TripleDubu

The Chaewon incident that started this whole thing coming to mind, which you weren’t opposed to at all, considering the events that occurred afterwards. A few more surprises here and there with her closest friends with the other, the more recent one being Kazuha coming home, drunk off her ass along with the girls.

That was a rather interesting Friday night, you’ll say. Your body has never felt so sore in your entire life the next few days after.

Extremely worth it, for all intents and purposes however.

But, to your point, she doesn’t let you know about things that you would very much like to know beforehand. Like today, for example, when you come home from what you thought was going to be an ordinary Wednesday until—

“Hi!”

“Jesus–” This was not what you were expecting when you came home from work. Luggage bags left in your hallway, a woman that is most certainly not Kazuha sitting on your couch, sipping on one of your yogurt milk drinks as she waves at you. Which makes you question where Kazuha is. “Uh, hello?”

“You must be Kazuha's boyfriend.” The woman continues sipping on her drink, the loud slurps coming from the straw pausing as she smiles prettily at you. “She said you'd be here around this time, so I thought of saying hi.”

“Right.” You are, for all intents and purposes, extremely skeptical of this woman. Don’t know who she is, where she came from, why there’s so much of her shit scattered in your hallway. She’s just here, for reasons you have zero idea of. 

You walk to the kitchen counter, placing down your backpack before turning towards her. “Sorry, who are you?”

“Oh!” She practically jumps out of the couch, and skips straight towards you with a grin on her face. “Name’s Rei. Naoi Rei.” She outstretches a hand.

You take her hand and shake it gently, tell her your name and be answered with a cute little nod that you swear is not making you cringe on the inside or make your heart race from how adorable it was.

“So you are Zuha’s boyfriend!” she repeats, and before you could come up with a reply for it, the front door swings open once again.

“Looks like you two are getting along.” Kazuha's striding in, a shopping bag in one hand, and a small handbag in another. She stands next to you, smiling and leaning in to give you a peck on the lips before she hands the bag to Rei. “Here's some extra pillows you can use.”

Rei gasps, and you're confused on whether this woman's a walking adorable little thing or not because every action she does looks way, way too cute to be normal.

“Thank you so much, I'll pay you back before I leave,” Rei says, pulling out a pair of pillows from the bag, the paper falling down the ground.

“Don't worry about it,” Kazuha replies, placing her bag next to your pack, and you watch as Rei squeezes one of the cushions between her arm, picking up the bag on the ground and walking back to the couch with another thanks. 

Which leaves you with Kazuha. You turn to her, blinking slowly and giving her a pointed look. Your hands gesture towards Rei, who's gotten in her own world on the couch, setting up her makeshift bed on it. “So.”

“So,” Kazuha repeats, eyes following your hands. “That's Rei.”

“That is Rei, yes.” Your palms rest on your hips. “Why is Rei here with a bunch of luggage, exactly?”

“She’s asked if she can crash for a few days,” she explains, leaning her elbow on the kitchen counter. “Traveled all the way from Japan for some music festival this weekend.” Said Rei would be gone by Wednesday next week, Kazuha swears. “She won’t cause us any trouble, trust me.”

You turn your gaze back to Rei, legs up in the air while she’s hugging one of the pillows and scrolling down her phone. You can faintly hear the sounds quickly shifting from one topic to another as her thumb swipes up every so often. “And when you say trouble–” Queue your finger air quotes. “You mean she’s not going to be involved in one of your plans?”

Kazuha only smiles at you, hand rising up to pat your cheek fondly. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” There’s that familiar twinkle in your eye that you spot—one that you’re not sure whether to be excited or wary of what she’s cooking up—before she walks away.

Sighing and shaking your head, you take another look at Rei. Still busy with her phone, paying you no mind and not causing any trouble, just like Kazuha said.

You can’t help but add a ‘yet’, though.

—

Trouble, you’ve realized, decided to come in small batches over the course of the next few days.

Nothing that would get you arrested or caught in an indecent way, no. For the most part, it was you doing your usual routine with the added intrusion that Rei is living in your living room. And it causes a few odd encounters with her every now and again.

Like when Kazuha decided to jump you the following Thursday when you got home, kissing you right there in the doorway just as you opened the door to your apartment. And while it was an unexpected surprise that you would normally, wholeheartedly welcome with open arms, seeing Rei pretend that you and Kazuha are not sucking each other’s faces off wasn’t weird at all.

At least, not for Kazuha. It was odd as all hell for you when you realized that Rei was looking pretty earnestly until she got caught.

Or on Friday, where you swear to all manners of religion out there that you heard moaning outside your bedroom door when you woke up in the middle of the night because the bathroom was calling you. Suffice to say it was a quick run to and from the bathroom to avoid interrupting Rei’s potential ‘her’ time.

And you won’t lie, needing to be quiet in your own home because a guest was touching yourself was incredibly awkward, considering that’s not something anyone would ever stumble upon. Even more so when you were left alone on Saturday, when Rei was out at her festival, Kazuha coming along with her when Rei said her friend wouldn’t be able to make it.

“It’d be a great way for us to really catch up!” You remember Rei telling Kazuha before they left this morning. And for the most part, you kinda agree with her. The three of you never really seem to have a good time to sit down and hang out, outside of the two of them since they seemed rather close. You in particular, given that you’re mostly out on the weekdays that Rei started living in your apartment.

And as much as they wanted you to come with, the extortionist pricing to get tickets this late made all three of you exclaim profanities so loud that you were afraid of finally getting a noise complaint.

Aside from the rather relaxing afternoon you had cleaning up your home while watching the weekend motorsport race in an attempt to get rid of any lingering thoughts about Rei touching herself on your couch—one that you sat on for quite a while after doing the chores (you need to clean this couch soon)—and making some dinner for yourself after getting a text from Kazuha that they’ll be coming home late, you decided to call it early tonight and catch up with the two in the morning.

Which gets completely derailed when you wake up in the wee hours of Sunday, where you are awoken from the sounds that are coming from your living room. It causes you to groggily get out of bed, the intimate familiarity of your home allowing you to walk on autopilot even without fully opening your eyes.

Or have your senses wake up until you flick the light on to find Kazuha and Rei making out by the kitchen counter, the former practically shoving her tongue down the latter. 

You blink like an owl. Slowly, peculiarly, until the scene before you registers in your mind and you start looking like a deer in headlights. Then your brain finally catches up to what you’re seeing and—

“Well, good morning to you girls too.” Dragging a palm across your face, you decide to head over to grab a cup and fill it up with water. “Did you have fun earlier?”

Rei lets out a blissful hum, letting out a gasp as Kazuha leaves her lips to kiss down her neck. “Great,” she gasps, holding onto Kazuha’s locks. Rei lets out an even loud gasp when she gets hoisted up onto the counter by Kazuha, and even you were raising eyebrows at how assertive Kazuha is being tonight.

Or today, you’re not sure yourself. 

You take a good, long drink of your cup, downing it all in one go, a quiet, refreshed noise coming out of your lips before putting it down. You have half a mind to walk up and join in on whatever debauchery Kazuha’s planned, and another to go back to bed and let them have their fun, considering they’ve already started without you.

Kazuha might not even know you’re here, what with her buried completely in Rei’s chest, her hands pulling the jacket she has on away before her fingers begin to pull Rei’s top up to expose her chest and holy shit Rei being even more stacked than you thought was not in your bingo card.

Not that you were looking, of course. You were simply appreciating the times her cleavage was in display. Totally not looking down whenever you had the chance, no.

Your bro will never let you live it down. But then again, anyone would be happy to have their faces shoved full of tits, especially ones as big as Rei’s.

Kazuha included.

Speaking of, she’s finally gotten her head out of Rei’s tits and turns to you with a grin. “Hey.” Is all she says, like this is another Sunday for her (and for the most part, this was a normal Sunday before you two were a thing, the player that your girlfriend was. Still is.) “Had a good day doing nothing today?”

“I cleaned, thank you very much,” you answer, walking up next to her, arm wrapping around her waist and leaning in to give her a kiss on the cheek, like this is another Sunday for you. “I’m guessing this is how Rei is paying you back for staying?”

“Oh this was for the pillows I got her,” Kazuha says, taking your free hand and placing it on Rei’s bra-covered breast, and even with the fabric in the way you can feel how soft and large they are in your hand. Rei encourages you further, pushing her chest out for the both of you and your fingers can’t stop themselves from squeezing. “Now she’s paying us back with her pillows.”

“They are some very nice pillows,” you mutter, engrossed in the soft flesh.

Kazuha chuckles, a hand coming down to cup the bulge growing in your shorts, fondling you through your clothing. Her lips come close; kisses starting from your neck, journeying her way up to your cheek all the way until she can nibble your earlobe, cooing a question that you’ll ever answer. “Better than Kkura’s?”

Whether it be because you don’t want to hurt Rei’s feelings (especially cause you’re getting a feel of her tits), Sakura’s feelings when Kazuha eventually tells her (cause you know Sakura’s going to come barging in your apartment one night when she learns about it), or your own physical being, you can’t be sure. What you are sure of is that all three can be an option, but you’re too busy fondling Rei’s breasts to give Kazuha an answer anyway.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Kazuha sing-songs, tugging your shorts down to your ankles. “Rei, be a dear and help me out here, why don’t you?”

“On it!” Rei’s hands come to the waistband of your boxers, and they end up right above your shorts. Your cock twitching and leaking and Christ her hands feel amazing stroking you so gently it makes you moan.

It makes Kazuha giggle; a sound that makes you fall deeper into this whole rabbit hole of fucking yet another one of her friends. “Excited now, are we bro?” And it’s like she’s reading your mind, even when she’s on her knees and looking at you with those doe eyes. Knowing that you’re just as turned on as she is, that you’ll be sharing Rei between the both of you.

That, or it could be the other way around and she’s sharing you with her friends.

“Well, don’t worry too much,” Kazuha continues, inching closer to your cock. “Let Rei and I take care of you for the night, hmm?” Her tongue gives a quick lick at your tip, making your thighs clench.

“Let me guess–” you exhale, glancing back to Rei. “Is this your thanks for letting you stay?”

“Nope!” she says, her entire face lighting up. She leans in and gives your cheek a quick peck then drops off the counter to follow Kazuha on her knees. “I’m doing this cause I’m so fucking wet right now.” Rei gives that same quick kiss to your tip, holding you by the base all while Kazuha watches by her side.

“Rei’s a little bit of a horndog,” Kazuha adds, nudging Rei lightly. Rei only nods in agreement, her tongue coming out to lick your shaft; from the tip going down to the base of your cock, she leaves no surface safe from her pretty pink muscle that’s eager to get you ready. “And she is very adventurous.”

“I can tell.” Just by the way Rei is worshipping your balls, taking each one in her mouth and rolling them with her tongue, sucking and licking away at them so goddamn well it makes you lean back onto the counter to brace yourself for when Kazuha inescapably joins in. “Christ, Zuha, you’re making me think you’ve fucked all your friends.”

“Not all of them,” Kazuha snaps back, a smirk on her lips. She gets closer to your dick, hot breath tickling you, and the air you need in your lungs gets exponentially bigger the moment her own tongue comes out to have her fun. “I’m thinking we should double team someone one of these days, though.”

Jesus, this woman truly is after your own heart. Even the mere thought of Kazuha wearing a strap, pinning Rei down and getting to stuff her in both holes sounded insane. And here she is, telling you that she’s ready and willing to go; might not even need to be Rei at all.

“Hot,” Rei comments, like her mouth isn’t preoccupied with your balls. “Can that be me? Please let it be me.”

The shit eating grin on Kazuha’s face when she hears that, paired with her eyebrows wiggling at you causes a shaky laugh to spill out of your lips. Knowing that it really, actually, might be Rei that’s going to get stuffed by the both of you in the near future makes you throb harder, pulsing around Kazuha’s hand.

Something you’ll anticipate for later, when the time comes. Right now you need to focus on not cumming too early when both Kazuha takes your cock in her mouth, tongue swirling around your cockhead just as Rei manages to take both your balls in hers. It makes you grip the counter tighter, hissing a curse and looking up at the ceiling just so the view won’t make you explode in record time.

Not that it matters, you’re only delaying the inevitable when it comes to Kazuha.

“Z-Zuha–” you stutter, a hand coming to rest on her hair, running your fingers through her locks when she takes you deep. Mouth locked firmly around your length, she sucks eagerly, cheeks hollowing out as she bobs. Up and down and up and down and down and down until her nose almost reaches your crotch. Letting out a gag before she comes up for air, stroking your spit covered cock and looks up at you with a smile.

“Problem?” The tilt of her head partnered with the grin playing her face is fucking you up seven ways to Sunday, and your fingers curled up in her hair tightens in response. Combined with the fact that Rei’s never let up on your balls, and it’s a constant barrage of pleasure that you do not have the strength to win against.

“I–fuck–” It’s embarrassing to admit, having to lose so quickly against these two, but waking up and having your dick sucked wasn't exactly what you were expecting to happen. “I’m not gonna last long.”

Rei pauses, coming up and finally giving you a moment's rest, and she is a mess. Droll running down her chin that she doesn’t bother wiping off, only slurping what she can in her mouth as she grins at you two. “Can I do the thing please?”

You turn to Kazuha. “What thing?”

“Course you can, Rei.” Kazuha gives Rei a kiss on the cheek.

“Yes!” Rei leaves one last kiss on your cock, her tongue making out with the tip and the surprise almost makes you kick your feet up. 

“Holy shit–”

She doesn't stay for long, kissing you cock one last time before she stands up. Before you can know it Kazuha is pulling you away from the counter, getting you to stand upright.

“Dude, what is she talking about?” You hold on to Kazuha's shoulders, the clothes around your ankles being a pain to move forward.

Kazuha only grins and gives you a wink. “When I said Rei was adventurous–” You can feel Rei behind you now, her hands on your shoulders, face peeking out from behind to kiss you dangerously close to your lips but pulls away to smooch you on the cheek. “She’s really adventurous.”

Rei must know what'll happen if she decides to have a taste of your lips. 

Clothes rustling behind you pique your curiosity, making you want to turn around to see Rei's breasts out of that damn bra. Wanting to feel the weight of them in your palms, pinch and play with her nipples, give them a nice, good squeeze—

A squeaky, girly noise comes out of you, shivers up your spine, your skin tingling all over the place, body locking up; it happens all at once, overloading your senses and almost making you double over if not for Kazuha holding you upright. You don’t know how to react, your body running on instinct at the burst of pleasure that’s hit you, all because of a wet intrusion poking in your taint.

“What the fuck, Rei–” The letters that constitute pronouncing her name slowly become gibberish in favor of a long, drawn out moan, your hands grabbing Kazuha’s head in an attempt to find solace. Even if you must look so fucked stupid in front of her, that smile Kazuha gives you is somehow both endearing and problematic at the same time.

“Relax,” Kazuha says, and that one word—that one, simple word—is enough to let you know that there is, in fact, a problem. “Just let go when you need to, alright?”

And when Kazuha starts to double down on the assault of pleasure being inflicted on you, you just know that you’re not going to last much longer. You’re almost hyperventilating at how potent the feeling is, the tingling becoming a numbing sensation over your body from it all.

The sensation of Rei licking around your pucker, circling it with her tongue before she does a few pokes to test your reaction. Kazuha’s head a blur from how fast her head is bobbing, blowing you so eagerly. Rei digging her fingers in your ass once her tongue plunges in to rim you. Kazuha’s gaze never losing its focus away from you, her lips suctioned at your tip, tongue circling around, flicking the slit of your cockhead while her hands stroke you.

You’re seeing stars. Blots of white start blocking your vision, the hold you have on Kazuha’s head getting firmer to hold yourself together. It’s useless trying to fight back against it, not when these two are tongue fucking you on both sides. You try to warn either of them that the inevitable is happening, but all that comes out is garbled mutterings of a man gone mad.

It just happened, is what you eventually tell the both. When your eyes roll back and your cock erupts straight into Kazuha’s waiting mouth, filling up with cum at each pulse. The hum that vibrates around your cock along with the tongue slowly licking around your taint coaxes more and more of your load to come out, and it all seems neverending.

Rei comes out from behind, leaving your backside to kneel next to your leg. A finger feathers around your taint, even as she stares at Kazuha prolongs your load. And Kazuha manages to stay attached to your cock, jerking you off to gain more of your spunk, swallowing what she can even as it starts to spill out of her lips. The wonder in Rei’s eyes as she watches, the perverse anticipation in her lips—and all you can do is moan and let it all happen.

“There you go,” Rei mutters, her thighs pushing together. “Give her all that cum. Give her everything so I can have some for myself.”

Kazuha’s lips leave your shaft and you’re crumbling to the floor, feeling like you just ran a marathon and back from the experience. Rei makes sure that you don’t hurt yourself, getting your back against the counter before she gets pulled in for a kiss by Kazuha.

Cum gets swapped between their lips, lips savouring the taste, their tongues sliding together and sharing what Kazuha has milked from you. Some spill down, some stick to their lips, most get swallowed from both. It’s all so messy, and they don’t care at all.

Somehow, someway, your cock comes to life from the view. You don’t understand how, and you’re genuinely scared to find out what happens when you figure out that your body is overruling your sense of survival for more of this.

They part, Kazuha turning to you as Rei licks up any leftover cum that’s fallen down to the former’s chest. “You look like you enjoyed that.”

“I look like I’m a fucking corpse,” you reply, causing Kazuha and Rei to giggle. “What the hell was even that?”

“Just a little thank you for cleaning up the apartment while we were off partying.” Kazuha closes the distance between you two, coming to your left. She cups your cheek, and her lips meet yours. 

Arms wrap around her waist to pull her close, and you relax. Letting yourself get swept away by Kazuha’s soft lips for a moment, whispering such a rare phrase to you in between all of the kisses that it makes you smile. You say it back, just when you feel a wet pressure around your length.

It makes you flinch in surprise, pulling you away from the moment, from Kazuha. You look down, and Rei’s in between your legs, cock popping off her lips.

“So about that double team,” Rei starts, slowly stroking you. It was enough to ease you back into hardness. She’s careful with you, making sure that the pleasure doesn’t become pain from overstimulating you. “Can that be my payment for staying here for the week?”

You share a look with Kazuha.

Kazuha shrugs. Takes a glance at Rei. Smirks.

 SinB sat at home, wondering what to do. She had nothing planned, and while she could go out, she didn't particularly want to. As she turned over in bed, she looked at her nightstand. On the little table were her toys, various dildos and vibrators, shamelessly sitting there. SinB debated using them, but there was little desire to do so. A toy was good and all, but right now SinB felt like it wouldn't be enough; she wanted the real thing.

The young woman huffed. She reached over and grabbed her phone. She flicked through pictures and opened apps, going through everything in her boredom. Then she saw something that caught her eye. It was a cock, a long and thick one. She wasn't shocked; on the internet, people got around to posting things they definitely shouldn't have, and they'd be banned for it. Still looking at it, it piqued her interest. Then she read the caption, which was asking for someone to fuck in their area. Better yet, it was close to SinB; she recognized the address. SinB made another account; she wouldn't be caught using her own to direct message someone.  She took a deep breath and began typing out a message. She saw what she liked and wanted it. SinB might not have known what kind of girl you were into, but she figured with a cock like that, someone submissive might seem better. SinB could play any role, so it didn't matter that much. Once the message was sent, she took a deep breath. Hopefully, she would get a message back soon. In a blink-and-you'll-miss-it moment, she got an immediate response. She was a little shocked to hear back so quickly, but it was all for the better. She had an itch that needed scratching. 

You and SinB chatted, exchanging quick pleasantries before getting down to business. 

“So you’re looking to fuck?”

“Yeah, I really need a big fat cock right now.”

“I’m going to need to see a photo,” you text. SinB furrowed her brow; she didn’t exactly want to show her face. 

“Is a body shot okay?”

“That’ll work, but I want it nude.” 

“Fair enough,” she thought to herself. This was for the purposes of fucking, and they’d see each other later. SinB stood out of bed and walked over to the floor-length mirror. It was a good thing she was already naked—a small perk of sleeping in the nude. SinB gives a quick peace sign before snapping the picture. She looked it over quickly, making sure her face wasn’t visible and nothing of note was in the background. Once she was sure, she sent it over to you. “I’ll be wearing a mask during this. As much as I need you to fuck me up with your cock, I don’t need anyone to know what I’m doing.”

“Fine by me, but I’m going to need one more picture, from the back this time.” SinB rolled her eyes at the request. At this point, she thought she was in for a penny, in for a pound. She turned around and snapped a picture of her backside. The picture was sent, and then the two of you began discussing details. “Can I come over now?” She asked. The response was an immediate yes. Finally securing a fuckbuddy. SinB started to get dressed. The young woman didn’t bother to wear panties or a bra. They wouldn’t be of any use anyway. 

Dressed, SinB went on her way to your home. She did have to make a quick return to grab a mask. In her haste, she had nearly forgotten to put one on. She was right, the place was nearby. The moment she stepped into your home, you commanded her to strip down. Considering you were already naked, she had no problem with it. The young woman’s eyes were glued to your stiff cock. You hadn’t lied about what you were packing, and for that, she was thankful. She was also thankful you happened to pop up on her feed. You lead the young woman to your bedroom and take a seat on the bed. “Crawl for me, let me see what I bagged.”

SinB was glad that what lay before her matched the pictures she had seen. She smiled behind her mask and dropped to her knees. She crawled toward you, keeping her back arched and hips swaying. She would be happy to service you. She wrapped her hand around your length, her thumb tracing one of your veins. She moved along your shaft, watching your cock intently. She was getting wetter just looking at it. A handjob wasn’t going to be enough. “Go on and suck it. I see that look in your eyes.”

SinB smirked. She knew she had a terrible poker face when it came to sex.  SinB inched closer to you. She pulled the bottom of her mask and stuck her tongue out, the slick tip appearing to you, dripping saliva onto the tip of your cock. She moved lower, concealing your length as she wrapped her lips around it. It's like a disappearing act with the mask involved. Your cock disappearing into the young woman’s moist and warm mouth. You groan, enjoying the experienced mouth of your new fuck buddy. She moves along your shaft, reaching the base with a little effort. It turns you on the way she chokes on your cock, the small gags, and the teary eyes as she forces herself to stay near the base. 

You remember her opening messages and take advantage of this opportunity. You place your hands on the sides of SinB’s head and start thrusting your hips, fucking her face with increasing pace. SinB relaxed her jaw, letting you do as you pleased. There was something about having a cock being rammed down her throat that turned her on. Her hand went between her legs, finding her sopping cunt. She rubbed her clit, going in small circles. SinB’s moans were muffled at times, but you could tell she was trying to speak. What she said didn’t matter because you both knew she wanted this. The young woman placed her hand on your thigh, gripping it tightly as she got closer to cumming. “You love being facefucked, don’t you, you little slut.”

“I love it. I love big fucking cocks,” SinB tried to say. It was all but impossible with your cock still ramming the back of her throat. Her eyes shot open for a brief moment as you held her to your crotch. Then they slowly fell, half-lidded as your thickcum poured down her throat. You pulled out a bit, letting the young woman enjoy the taste as it filled her mouth. You might not have been able to see it, but SinB’s cheeks were hollowed out as she sucked as hard as she could, wanting every last drop. Even once your orgasm has ended, SinB keeps sucking, bobbing her head a few more times before leaving it with a pop.

The young woman makes sure to adjust her mask, keeping it over the lower half of her face. Her eyes never leave your cock, though, even after cumming, you were still hard.“Fuck, you really know how to treat a guy’s cock right. Why don’t you climb on up and ride this thing?”

SinB climbs onto you. She squats above your cock, her hand wrapping around your slick shaft as she aligns her aching cunt with you. “I’ve needed this all day.”

“Then go on, ride this fucking dick like your life depends on it.” You bring your hand to SinB’s ass, making her suppress a moan. She giggles before lowering herself. The young woman cranes her neck, eyes shutting as she relishes the sensation of your cock stretching her entrance. The head was splitting her apart, and as she took more into her warm folds, SinB’s voice trickled out. This was just what she had been craving. She took your cock deep into her needy cunt, stretching it to its limits. SinB let out a loud groan. She was absolutely stuffed. You were pressing against her womb. The young woman pushed on her knees to lift herself. It was difficult, though; her walls were clamping onto your cock, refusing to let it go easily. 

“C’mon slut, bounce on this dick,” you tell her, spanking her ass. SinB drops onto your cock one more time. The vice grip she has on you feels incredible, along with the warmth of her core. The pace she was moving at, though, left a lot to be desired. “I’ll do it myself,” you tell the young woman, grabbing onto her waist. You begin to bounce SinB on your cock, with a little force, you can easily slide her along your length, her slick walls still desperate for your cock. SinB grips your arms, moaning constantly. You watch her small tits bounce along with her, her soft flesh jiggling. 

You begin to thrust into her, adding to the pleasure she feels. “Fuck, fuck,” SinB grunts. She places her hands on your chest, supporting herself as you drive yourself into her. “I-I can’t–cumming!” SinB cries out, her walls clamping down on your shaft. As SinB cums on your cock you slip your hands under her legs and around her back. You slowly rise to your feet, keeping yourself connected to the young woman. You walk over to the windows, pressing her against it as you ram your length into her womb. SinB cries out. She presses her hands against the glass; her feet are by her head as you fold her in half. The only support she has is your hands on her ass. She feels your nails digging into her flesh, and your rough thrusts bring her to the edge of another orgasm. 

“Is this what you wanted?”

“Yes! Yes! It’s exactly what I wanted, what I needed.” SinB shouts, more moans spilling from her lips with every thrust, the sound filling the room along with the clapping of your bodies.

“Yeah, tell me all about it.”

“Toys can’t even compare to the real thing. A real fucking cock doesn’t stretch me out and fuck me until I can’t feel my legs.” SinB’s head rests against the glass, her core tightens as her orgasm approaches, and as much as she tries to hold it back, it becomes impossible. 

“A toy can’t cum inside you either,” you remark, burying yourself inside her fertile cunt. SinB lets out a low groan as your cum is pumped into her body. You feel her walls flexing around your cock, dragging every drop of cum out of you. “Such a tight cunt, I bet you want more, don’t you?”

“Please, please, fill my slutty pussy with more cum,” She mumbles. You bring SinB over to the bed, turning her onto her stomach and raising her ass into the air. You bring your hand down on her ass once more; the few strikes you’ve given her already have her skin turning a bright red. “More,” SinB groans, shaking her ass for you. You smirk as the young woman asks for more punishment. You bring your hands down on her cheeks, watching her ass recoil. You deliver more strikes, alternating which cheek gets hit. SinB keeps her face to the mattress and ass raised high, each hit had her biting her bottom lip, pleasure building from each stinging hit. 

She took a deep breath when the spanking finally ended. Then she cried out as you pierce her with your length. You hold onto her waist with one hand as the other grabs her hair. You pull her head back as you drive your cock back into her. SinB has drool dripping from the corners of her mouth, soaking her mask as you drive her crazy. Each thrust makes her lurch forward. When you pull her back, you match it with a thrust, making sure each time you ram into her womb. 

“Oh, fuck, fuck,” SinB mumbles, her body tingling all over. She could only focus on the sensation of your slick cock sliding in and out of her, pushing your cum out of her cunt to make room for more. As your cock began to throb, SinB tried pushing her ass back against you. She had little strength, though at the moment, she was nothing more than a toy for you to use, and she had no problem with that. The itch that had been bothering her was finally gone, and on top of that, she found someone who could be a great fuck buddy. The moment you buried yourself inside her, SinB reached another peak, her vision blurring as you came inside her again. Your searing cum poured into her womb again. If she wasn’t on the pill, she was certain you would get her pregnant with the amount you were pumping into her. Even with your cock inside her, it began to flow out of her abused cunt. Her pussy is left gaping as you pull out and spurt the last of your cum onto her back. SinB lets out a shuddered sigh. She felt content. You take a seat beside SinB, looking at your work. 

After some time, SinB regains enough energy. “That was amazing.”

“Yeah, now why don’t you take a little walk of shame, go back home with my cum on your back?”

“Okay,” SinB said with a giggle. SinB slowly got up, her legs wobbly as she dressed herself. The amount of cum you poured into her left the crotch of her pants wet, and her backless shirt made it quite obvious what she had done. “How about I come back in a couple of days?”

Minutes ago, she'd waved her phone at the massive bonfire circle, claiming she needed pristine starlight shots to make up for her Bubble radio silence.

Every MIDZY knew she was the group's relentless photo spammer on Bubble, but she hadn't posted a single thing since they landed in Jeju. Her camera roll was basically useless right now. The golden hour sunset photos from two days ago were gorgeous, except Minho had taken them, and her face in every shot was a fucking liability.

So the Bubble update was a pretty bulletproof excuse. Nobody questioned content creation.

They'd pushed Minho to sing, then shoved her until she joined him, and the moment his voice slid effortlessly with hers, her chest dragged tight. It sounded too good, too right. She couldn't even finish the song before the panic hit her throat.

I want this. I just want to sit in the fucking sand and sing dumb songs with him for the rest of my life.

That drove her straight out of the firelight. Since when did she want anything but winning that badly?

The sky out here was nice and clear, even if the bonfire smoke kept drifting in ugly grey patches across the beach, and her phone camera had a night mode that was supposed to make this look professional. She just needed ONE clean shot to prove her alibi before Yuna started posing with Winter's failed s'mores, or Ryujin heaved an entire log into the flames just to make a spark explosion. She'd been on dangerous levels of watch this energy all night because Yunjin kept laughing.

Standing near the edge of the basalt drop, Yeji locked her shoulders back and kept her chin high. Her default response to panic - well, to everything, really - was to just brace like she was waiting for a spotlight. The Pacific beat itself white against the lava blocks below. The racer back crop top had been more than fine near the fire, but out here, the wind slid under the hem and spiked goosebumps along her ribs. She ignored the cold, tilting her head awkwardly backward to shove the phone high into the dark, and tapped the moon icon on the screen.

The first photo came out blurry.

"Ah, jinjja," she muttered. Seriously?

She wiped the lens against the cleanest part of her crop top and tried again. The second shot caught a smear of orange from the bonfire, and the third turned the stars into little white scratches like dust on a mirror. On the next try, the wind shoved her hair across her face right as the shutter opened.

Fucking amateur.

Hwang Yeji didn't do amateur. Hwang Yeji trained mistakes out of her body before debut.

Shoving the loose hair behind her ear, her fingers brushed the collar of the crop top. Her hand stopped there against her neck, pressing flat over the tender, swollen mark Minho had sucked into the side of her throat that morning.

They’d ended up on the living room couch under the duvet after absolutely demolishing their bedroom last night. Waking up in the morning light, she'd simply pulled her panties aside, guided him back inside her, too tired for a real round but needing him stretching her out. He’d slid in slow, steadying her hips with one hand while his thumb held firm against her clit to keep her quiet. Every time she rolled her hips, she had to bite his arm and let him suck her throat muffle-tight so she wouldn't make a sound as he filled her up deep, taking the greedy, shameless thrill of his hot load inside her while her members made matcha steps away.

They’d been dead quiet. He'd kept her locked down under the blanket, so they’d gotten away with it. Sure, Ryujin had aggressively slammed the fridge door twice, Lia had kicked the leg of the couch on her way to the sink, Chaeryeong had dropped three whole strawberries into the matcha, and Yuna had walked in, seen the couch, walked right back out, then returned with a much louder "Good morning!" before asking, "Unnie, are you cold?" while staring directly at the duvet until Yeji nearly bit through Minho's arm, but nobody had said a word. They DEFINITELY hadn't suspected a thing.

Focus.

She lowered the phone, annoyed with herself, then raised it again.

Was it ever just the sex?

She waited for the usual shrug to settle into her shoulders, but her skin stayed cold. The phone pulsed in and out of focus, searching and searching stars it couldn't understand, and for a split second the black screen reflected her own face back at her. Wind-raw cheeks and hair in her mouth.

She turned the screen away.

Just take the fucking picture, Hwang Yeji.

The camera struggled to find light. The screen dissolved into noisy gray static, just like that memory from Practice Room B, five years ago.

Cold linoleum pressed against her cheek. The rough edges of the crumpled vocal evaluation sheet bit into her fist. The red D on the paper glared back at her until her head spun.

When Minho had shoved the door open looking for an empty mirror to drill choreo, she hated him for catching her. Except he'd skipped the bullshit trainee platitudes, dropping his bag to sit close enough for their shoulders to touch, and rested his warm hand on the back of her neck to steady her.

She'd sobbed into his shoulder and whispered for him to stay, and minutes later they were fucking on the scuffed floor as she begged him to keep the mess inside so she wouldn't get it on her clothes.

From that night on, it became the fix. Every time the schedule choked her out, every time the pressure made her head hurt, she dragged him into locked vocal booths, empty dorms, and after he quit, his modest apartment in Seongnae-dong, minutes away from the JYP building. Obviously, she loved the sex. It didn't help that he had a stupidly good cock and knew exactly how to pound her pussy until her head shut up.

She also taught him to stop counting steps, because he'd taught her how to stay.

Just sex. Right.

The phone slipped a little in her freezing fingers. Down the beach, Yuna's loud laugh rattled through a high-pitched scream. She should probably go back before someone set a sleeve on fire on the beach.

She held her ground on the rock.

She dragged her thumb down to kill the exposure, forcing the digital sky pitch black until the stars sharpened into clean white points.

The second the stage lights died at her debut showcase, her eyes swept the aisle seats in rows six and seven. She caught nothing but a bulky staff camera and someone's eomma waving a lightstick.

Not him.

Fine. He'd quit. People quit. She didn't.

After that, there'd been more seats to search. Nine days after debut, they broke the industry record for the fastest girl group win. The M Countdown trophy hit her hands, her fingers shaking so badly she almost dropped the acrylic while floor directors shoved them toward their encore marks. DALLA DALLA kept winning. ICY kept winning. By winter, rookie awards had piled up until managers were telling her to switch arms before broadcasts caught her trembling under the bouquets and gold edges.

And every single time the confetti cannons fired, her chin snapped up. Scanning the VIP pits. The sponsor tables. The camera risers. The suffocating crush of staff clogging the wings.

Not him.

Then WANNABE blew up so hard everybody knew the shoulder move. Their practice room mirrors fogged from sweat, Ryujin's shoulders became everyone's business, and Yeji kept smiling through encore stages with tape biting under her costume because being the top girl group of their generation meant they didn't get to look tired. LOCO took them higher. Billboard screenshots appeared in the group chat at insane hours, while hotel curtains opened in foreign cities she only saw through van windows and stage entrances.

She looked there, too. Raking the balcony tiers. Hunting through the catwalks. Squinting past the lighting desks. Staring dead into the absolute black drop past the pyrotechnics.

Not him.

And the bigger the numbers got, the faster the public took their cut, until less and less of her actually belonged to her. CHECKMATE made them million-sellers while everyone argued about SNEAKERS. CHESHIRE sold anyway, but they never performed it after the initial promotions because it'd taken a toll on their vocal cords. CAKE sold anyway, but the comment sections still chewed through them, and when Lia finally stepped back, Yeji read the statement once, blamed herself by the second line, and drove her heels into the next rehearsal floor until the junior staff stopped talking. When the label screamed or the internet turned, she'd gone numb and fixed it. Sang harder. Danced harder.

The world kept handing her proof that she'd made it, but her eyes kept checking the room anyway.

Not him.

Her thumb dragged too far across the screen, and KakaoTalk opened instead of the camera roll.

Of course it did.

His name sat at the top of the list because she'd sent him a photo of Chaeryeong's terrible grilled abalone earlier, which was normal. Sharing evidence of food crimes was normal. Keeping the thread open for no reason was also normal if nobody asked.

Having him pinned was normal too. She had needs. He always answered.

A week ago, in the dorm, she'd lain on her bed with her phone face down on her stomach and typed

Yeji: come to Jeju with me 🖤

before her ears burned up and she deleted it so fast her nails slipped on the glass. The black heart had been hers for so long that MIDZY treated it like official branding, which was annoying because Minho had picked it first, years ago when she'd refused to use red hearts because they looked needy. After one practice where she'd terrorized Lia for blaming a missed count on a slippery floor, he'd texted

Minho: scary girl 🖤

like that was a compliment. When she'd demanded to know why black, he'd said,

Minho: because it's your favorite color

Which, unfortunately, was true.

How the fuck did he know that, anyway?

Then he'd added that red looked too harmless for a girl who smiled like she was about to win a knife fight.

She'd told him to shut up.

Then she'd used it once. Fans loved it. The company noticed. The stupid thing became hers.

Which meant she could send it to millions of strangers after a selfie, but not to him. Not when he knew exactly where it came from. Also, who the fuck sends hearts to their fuck buddy? Too much. Weird. Unnecessary. They weren't that.

She'd tried again the day before they went.

Yeji: I'm going to Jeju with the girls tomorrow. Yeji: Five days. Minho: oh Minho: that's a long time Yeji: We haven't fucked in three weeks. Minho: yeah Minho: i know Minho: do you want me there? Yeji: Bring sunscreen. Minho: ok Minho: what flight should i take? Yeji: Figure it out. Yeji: There's a 21:40 from Gimpo after you get off work. Yeji: I'll ask manager-nim to pick you up. Yeji: Aewol Beach Resort. We're renting a villa.

She let her hand drop to the mattress, ready to lock the screen and be done with it. Except not even a second later, she pulled the phone back up.

Yeji: Text me when you land, ok?

She tossed the device face down on the sheets and rolled onto her side, pressing the back of her hand against her mouth until her jaw stopped aching. He'd taken the demand at face value, accepting five days in Jeju alongside her members - even though he'd never met them properly since the Busan calamity - as a given and jumping straight to flight logistics, leaving her alone with a stomach churning so hard she thought she might puke.

The next evening, after his shift, he got on a plane anyway, still wearing his blue dress shirt.

He showed up with a single backpack and tired eyes, and the new bottle of sunscreen was shoved right into a side mesh pocket so she could see the label. He never actually used it, though. Yesterday, Yuna had snatched the bottle first and rubbed it all over Yeji's shoulders on the beach with both hands, frantic enough to leave white streaks along her collarbone.

Yah, that was weird.

She stared at the old Kakao messages until the screen drifted into gray, and the moment her reflection rose over his name, she clicked the lock button and turned her thumb back to the camera app. She only needed one clean photo. One aesthetic shot to prove her fake Bubble alibi, so she could walk back to the fire and pretend everything was fine.

She lifted the phone and held her breath during the three-second countdown of the lens shutter.

Fuck, still blurry.

Her hands had jumped before the first sound of footsteps even hit the basalt path behind her.

She stared out at the ocean, though her rigid shoulders finally dropped. She slid the phone into her back pocket and stepped straight to the edge of the black columns. The stars burned bright and stubborn over the Pacific. Still unsparkling. Still useless.

***

[MINHO'S POV]

The bonfire had burned down to a low orange flicker on the beach behind me, leaving the wind to drag the last sounds of laughter away until the ocean swallowed the rest of the night.

Yeji had slipped away from the fire a while ago. Ryujin had noticed first, of course. She'd eventually caught my eye across the sand, giving me a look that casually promised murder before jerking her chin out toward the dark.

I found Yeji standing near the edge of the black lava columns in just that thin crop top, her shoulders tight against the cold as the coastal wind whipped across her bare arms. The basalt dropped away in broken steps beneath her sneakers, tidewater flashing white between the cracks below. A fall from this height would break bones. I kept my eyes off the freezing tide sliding into the black pockets to keep my balance steady.

I stopped a step behind her and dropped my hoodie over her shoulders to cut the chill. Without turning to check who it was, she smoothly slid her arms backward into the sleeves while I guided the heavy fabric down. She braided her arms across her middle and stared down the sharp drop beyond her sneakers, looking tiny against the Pacific now that she was swallowed by the oversized fleece. Her hair blew loose across her cheek under the Jeju stars.

We just stood there while the wind and the tide crashed below us, until her breathing finally slowed down.

"You're hovering," she murmured, barely loud enough to clear the surf. She threw a familiar dry glare at the Pacific under her feet.

"I'm making sure you don't fall off a cliff."

She stared straight out at the drop. "You wouldn't even see me hit. The ocean is pitch black, idiot."

"Wasn't looking at the water."

She let out a short breath that caught somewhere near a laugh, dropping her chin into the collar of the hoodie. "That was terrible."

"Worked, though."

Her cheek shifted. She was hiding a smile.

The way she stood now, with her chin tucked, arms crossed tight, dragged me back to all the post-evaluation nights in the mirror-lined JYP studio. Years ago, sure. But Yeji never stood still without a fight.

I stepped up right beside her on the uneven rock. The starlight caught a silver edge along her damp lashes.

"You okay?" I asked quietly.

Her shoulders dropped. "No." She turned her attention back to the black water. "But I want to be."

That worked for me.

I dropped my hand, letting my knuckles rest lightly against the back of hers to press my warm skin over her freezing joints. It was small enough for her to brush off as an accident. Her fingers twitched against mine. I braced for her to pull away, but instead, her hand turned under mine. Her palm opened upward, and our fingers slid together, catching perfectly like we'd been doing this for years instead of just since the day before on the beach.

That grip dragged me straight back to the basement studios from our first summer. Dead AC, squeaking sneakers on scuffed laminate, and Yeji hating early partner drills with her whole face. She despised holding hands with anyone. She claimed it ruined her timing, snapping at me that my hold was too loose, then too tight, then just generally annoying. But before long, she could grab my hand blind on cue while staring dead ahead into the mirror.

She squeezed my fingers once.

I dragged my thumb slowly over the sharp ridge of her knuckle in response.

"Remember the blue room?" I asked her.

Her eyes stayed anchored on the violent surf, but the tense line of her mouth softened up. "The one with the blown-out speaker?"

"And the aircon making that awful dying sound in the corner."

"You swore it was humming in B-flat."

"It definitely was."

"It was a C, you deaf bastard."

"It was B-flat," I said. "You were just mad I could hear it."

She let out a small scoffing breath, shaking her head. "You were miserable in there."

"You kept bitching at me to fix the speaker."

"You were the only one tall enough to reach the plug!"

"Being tall didn't make me your personal fucking handyman, Yeji."

"You tried anyway."

"I was trying to impress you so you'd stop yelling at me."

She finally looked at me, her sharp jaw cutting across the sky.

"You were?"

The stiff line of her mouth just vanished. "You were scary. Of course I was trying to impress you."

"I was focused," she argued, squaring her shoulders. "Not scary."

"You made that poor trainee cry because she missed the pre-chorus."

"She missed it six fucking times in a row, Minho."

"Scary."

"She needed the timing!"

"See?"

She laughed brightly, the sound whipping away into the wind.

The laugh faded into the rush of the ocean below us. Yeji looked back up at the sky, phone forgotten in her pocket, my hoodie hanging off one shoulder where the wind kept attacking it.

"You were supposed to be there," she said.

For one dumb second, my brain stayed in the blue room.

"In the studio?"

"No." Her fingers tightened around mine. "After. All of it. Debut showcase, first music show win, rookie awards, first tour. Rows six and seven at showcase. Back wall during music shows. Camera pits. The wings at award shows. Hotels. Airports. All the places you had no reason to be."

The surf hit the black rock below us hard enough to spray cold mist through the cracks. She watched the water fall back into the dark and kept her jaw locked.

"I looked for you every time," she said. "So pathetic, right? I would finish a stage, smile at the camera, bow to the staff, do all the shit I was supposed to do, and then my eyes would go searching before I could stop myself. Not him. Not him. Not him."

I couldn't move even if I'd wanted to. She had her hand locked around mine so hard my knuckles had gone pale.

"Yeji -"

"Don't." She lifted our joined hands ever so slightly, and the apology my mouth had started reaching for died right there. "If you say sorry, then I have to say it wasn't your fault. And it wasn't. So then where does it go?"

I looked down at our hands and had no answer worth giving her.

"I don't know," I said.

"Exactly." She swallowed and turned her face back to the sky. "You didn't do anything wrong. I didn't do anything wrong. You left before it killed you. I stayed because you sat on that floor with me until I could. Then I debuted, and everyone kept telling me I won."

Her thumb dragged once across my knuckle, then stopped.

"I did win," she continued. "I worked for it. My members earned it. I know that. But you were there first, before people said I was the leader, before stages, before anyone called me 'JYP's secret weapon' or whatever and meant it in public. You saw me on the floor with a D grade and talked to me like the paper was unqualified. Not me."

The old practice room came back too fast: scuffed linoleum, fluorescent glare, the red letter crushed in her fist, her shoulders shaking under my palm.

"You were never unqualified," I stated simply.

"I know that now." She wiped under one eye with the sleeve of my hoodie, hard enough to leave the skin flushed. "I didn't know it then. I thought every mistake was proof. Then you came in and acted like failing one evaluation was the dumbest reason in the world to quit, and I hated how easy you made it sound. I wanted to shove every win in your face after that - turn around and go, look. See? You were right. I did it. I fucking did it."

"You did," I said. "But don't give me too much credit. I said one true thing on a shitty floor. You built the rest."

"But you weren't there."

"No -"

"And I hated you for it," she talked over me, still looking away. "Then I missed you, and I hated that more. Then I fucked you again and told myself that solved the problem because sex has rules. You come over. Or I come over. We fuck. You leave. Easy."

She finally turned her head toward me.

"It was never easy. Obviously. Keep up."

That almost broke a laugh out of me. I held it in because she was still standing open in front of me, and I wasn't going to make her close back up just because the truth scared me.

She looked back at the sky, her grip on my hand loosening slightly.

"You know, I used to go to the JYP roof after you quit," she said softly, almost wistfully. "Above the old practice building, before we moved to the new one. Remember the door by the vending machines? The lock was broken for months. The machine made the whole stairwell blue, and I would sit by the rail after practice staring up until my neck hurt. I couldn't even see stars through the Seoul smog most nights, but just looking up at how massive and empty the sky was... it helped. It made whatever mistake I made in rehearsal feel incredibly small."

The wind pushed her dark hair across her face.

"Lia wasn't lying the other day," she murmured. "Zero light pollution. I always wanted to see what it looked like with you."

"You never told me about the roof," I said quietly.

She slowly lowered her chin to look at me, her dark eyes staring into mine. "You weren't there to tell."

Yeah, I'd earned that one.

"I - I didn't leave you," I mumbled.

She hooked her fingers into the front of my hoodie and pulled it tighter across her chest.

"I left JYP," I said. "The company. The trainee lists. The rooms with no windows. Trainers counting mistakes like they were collecting proof we didn't belong there. By the end, I hated dance. Music too. Mirrors. My own face in practice footage. I couldn't stay in it anymore."

"I know." She pressed the hoodie sleeve under her eye again, slower this time. "I knew then. You had that look. One more trainer said your name and you were going straight through the studio glass. I knew why you left."

She folded both hands around mine, trapping my fingers between her palms.

"It still felt the same."

I closed my other hand over hers.

"I think about it too," I said.

Her shoulders hitched once under the hoodie.

"The what-ifs?"

"Yeah. Bad dorm coffee. You yelling at me in stage makeup. Me pretending I wasn't staring at you in every practice clip." I watched her mouth tremble, then steady. "I thought about you on stage before you even debuted. After I quit, I couldn't listen to music for a while without feeling sick. Then your DALLA DALLA teaser dropped, and I watched it at two in the morning on my laptop with the volume low so my roommate wouldn't wake up."

She stared at me.

"Of course I watched," I said before she could ask. "I watched everything. At first because I missed you. Then because you were impossible not to watch. Then because it was easier to call it supporting an old friend than admit I was waiting for thirty seconds of fancam like a loser with a schedule."

Her mouth pulled sideways through the tears. "You never said."

"Neither did you."

"I was busy becoming famous."

"Yeah," I said, dragging my thumb over her knuckles until her grip loosened enough for blood to come back into my fingers. "You were."

She let the joke die there. For a while, there was only the ocean.

"Sometimes I pictured you in the company van," she said. "Sleeping with your mouth open, neck bent all wrong, complaining about my hairspray, stealing my heat pack. I pictured you backstage too. At awards, music shows - I pictured you beside me so many times that when it wasn't real, it pissed me off."

Below us, the waves kept time against the black rock, like it was counting down a future that had already passed.

"Do you think it would've been better?" she asked after a while.

I looked past her shoulder at the bonfire, far enough away now to be a small orange blur against the beach.

"No," I said.

Her brows drew together.

"I wanted it," I said, before she could argue. "I still want it. I... I see those backstage clips and it makes me sick how much I want to be the guy stealing your shrimp chips in the van. Or holding your jacket. Just the stupid, boring shit, you know? But if I hadn't quit, I would've dragged you down. You would've made it your project to fix my head, and I would've hated you for handling everything better than me. We would've wrecked each other."

She pulled one hand free and held it against her cheek.

"You don't know that."

I shifted closer, turning my shoulder into the wind to block a little of it from hitting her face. "I know what I was like when I left. Jealous of everyone still standing in those rooms. Even you. Especially you. You could take the hit and come back meaner. I took the hit and started flinching before anyone raised a hand."

"You were eighteen," she said.

"So were you."

"I was insane."

"Yeah." I squeezed her hand before she could turn that into a joke. "You were insane. Brilliant. You scared the shit out of me."

Her eyes stayed on mine.

"You already said that."

"I know."

She looked back up at the stars. The fight slowly went out of her shoulders.

"I don't want to keep checking rooms," she said. "I don't want to... every time we go somewhere new, I hate that my first instinct is still to look up. I get mad at myself every single time, because obviously you aren't going to be sitting in the third row of some random stadium, but I look anyway. And then I get pissed off that you aren't there."

She turned her face toward me again. The tears were drying cold against her cheeks, and this time, she let them stay.

"I want to be here," she murmured. "And know you're here."

Five years gone. The life we didn't get, gone too. But her hand was warm in mine, and the rock under us was solid.

I lifted our joined hands higher, near her neck, and used a slow pull to turn her around until she faced me.

Her eyes dropped to our hands. "Here?"

"Here."

"On a pile of cursed lava blocks."

"I've seen you dance on worse."

"It's a cliff edge, Minho."

"Scared?"

Her gaze snapped back up to my face, her dark eyes narrowing under the starlight.

"I'm going to make you look like an idiot," she warned.

"You always do."

She stepped in first, finding a flat face of basalt under one sneaker while my body slid right into place. My free hand swung up to catch her narrow waist. Hers found my shoulder, resting lightly at first before pressing down the second my stance locked. We stayed still chest to chest under the stars for one long breath. Her fingers tightened hard into my shoulder, pressing right over my pulse.

I took a step forward, but her muscles were already locked down hard to drive the motion on a strict downbeat.

The most powerful hip hop dancer in Seoul didn't know how to yield a count.

So I held my ground, keeping my hand steady against her waist while I waited. She stayed rigid against my hold, her breath trapped in her throat while her body fought the violent instinct to take the choreography over. Then her shoulders dropped. Her ribs softened under my hand.

That was when I knew I wasn't holding idol Yeji anymore.

She exhaled hard, let herself settle into my grasp, and allowed me to pull her into the next step.

Her eyes flicked up to my face.

"Better," I told her.

"Keep your fucking dance critiques to yourself," she muttered, though she stayed still against my chest.

"I just praised your adjustment."

"You corrected my texture."

"Your texture corrected itself."

"Still annoying."

Her fingers were tapping a silent, desperate count against the back of my shoulder.

"You're in your head, Yeji," I shot back. "After you spent months fucking that exact habit out of me so I'd learn to feel the beat and stop counting."

Her mouth fell open in the dark because I had her pinned.

I grinned down at her.

She rolled her eyes hard, but the tapping stopped.

I yielded the lead, letting my hand drag loose across her waist while our joined fingers cut a slow arc through the freezing night air. The stars smeared white across my vision as she pulled me through the turn, the whole sky tilting over her shoulder for one dizzying swing before the black Pacific snapped back behind her.

She took the space instantly, pushing off my palm to spin outward into the cold wind with her back snapping straight. The oversized hoodie flared open against the black backdrop of the Pacific, leaving her suspended on one leg with her dominant arm stretched back taut into my grip.

I yanked my arm hard and dragged her back toward the jagged rock.

She refused to soften the catch, hitting my chest on the count with a breathless gasp and giving me every bit of the step.

I crossed my arms instantly over her waist, locking her bare hands secure against her stomach before we could tumble backward toward the drop.

***

The first time we'd practiced lifts, she'd kept landing wrong on a swollen ankle she swore was fine, throwing herself backward exactly like this and banking on my arms snapping shut before she hit the floor. I'd locked my grip around her then, staring at her exhausted reflection in the studio mirror.

By the time they put cameras in her face, she'd already mastered hiding it without the mirrors.

She was eighteen when they put her on The Fan, two months shy of her debut and three since I'd quit, watching exactly 197 votes flash on the board - which meant three people didn't, shoving her straight onto the chopping block. Three weeks later, her back seized up so bad during rehearsal she had to go to the hospital. Straight out of the ER, she shot "New Rules" and danced like her spine wasn't locked down tight. The tears didn't drop until 224 flashed on the screen to say she survived, and even then, she smiled right through them to thank the whole country for forgiving her mistakes. I watched that broadcast and realized the girl who used to curse at her own swollen ankles in the JYPE building was gone. She'd figured out the job.

Hurt on your own time. Win first.

***

She nudged her head back against my shoulder in the dark, breathing slowly against my collarbone until she started to sing.

"Thinkin' about ya, my hand in a fist," she sang softly, her fingers tightening around mine on the last word.

I locked my grip tight around her waist. From every track in an industry built to say 'don't need you,' she sang the one that begged to be held. The low, warm catch of her voice hit my throat before she even pushed the words into the cold air. I knew exactly where that breath started. I'd spent hours in a sealed practice room trying to teach her how to drop air deep into her lungs when she was eighteen, blown out, and ready to quit. I taught her how to pull that breath, and then walked away before I got to hear what she did with it.

"A night I suffered alone."

She sang the next line right into my shirt, leaving me nowhere to put my hands except tighter around her back. I'd heard that track blaring out of arena speakers for years, but none of it sounded like this.

I rotated her inside my arms to face me under the moonlight. Her voice bent when our chests slammed together, then steadied as my hand slid down her waist to brace her lower back.

"You are here," she hummed softly.

"Here by my side," I came in under her, rough and late.

She twitched her mouth into a smile before dragging in air for the next line. Of course she heard me.

"Hold me tight, hold me tight."

I pressed my palm harder into her back. "You know I'm holding up when I see you."

She steadied herself against my shoulder as we tracked every step over the uneven basalt, shoes catching on slick edges where the columns broke toward the water. Her knee brushed against mine, pulled away, and brushed back again.

I backed us blindly toward the drop, watching a spray of loose gravel slip under my heel. Her eyes flicked from my face to the sheer edge. The old Yeji would have slammed her feet wider and taken over the step to keep us safe.

She let herself fall toward me instead.

"You and I, we ain't falling," she sang, stepping back and giving our joined hands a sharp downward pull.

"We'll go through it together," I replied.

She followed the cue instantly. Hip hop dancers fall into freezes by controlling their own descent and their own timing, but tonight, she broke that rule. Her spine went completely slack across my forearm to hand me the count. One hand locked tight in mine, and the other fell loose until her fingertips grazed the air above the dark water.

"Talkin' about ya, talkin' about us."

I dug my palm harder into her spine, sinking into my stance as she arched violently backward over my forearm. The oversized hoodie slid off one bare shoulder, leaving her suspended in a breathless backbend. Her throat bared to the cold wind, the rigid line of her flat stomach snapping tight the second she stopped trying to catch herself.

"You and I got the same feeling," I sang back.

She hitched a breathless laugh into the cold air, hanging reckless in my arms.

I shoved my sneakers down into the ground, locking my arm tighter around her back. The coastal wind tore at her dangling hair, dragging the loose neck of the hoodie down far enough to expose the athletic line of her collarbone.

She looked up at me from her lopsided pose in the dark, flashing the same fierce trust from those late-night practice rooms before her debut.

I dragged her back up, pulling her slowly with everything I had.

She rose in a smooth arc with her hair swinging forward, breaking on the tiniest laugh when her face snapped level with mine before grabbing hard onto the back of my neck.

I caught her bare jaw on pure reflex, my thumb sliding under the sharp ridge of her cheekbone.

"Hold me, you're doing well," she breathed.

"Hold me, please trust me," I answered against her mouth.

She gasped out a startled laugh that cracked the silence as my lungs emptied out.

I locked both hands around her waist, dug my heels in, and hoisted her clear off the stone, leaving her suspended over the edge of the Pacific while I stared up at her with the freezing surf roaring against the jagged rock somewhere way down in the dark.

She scrambled for my shoulders for a split second, but the moment she looked down into the black drop, a shaky breath broke out of her and she completely unspooled. Every rigid muscle went slack against my palms as she let go, pulling her hands away to spread her arms wide into the coastal wind instead of bracing for a fall. Her spine arched in a reckless curve over the ocean, leaving my hands the only thing keeping her from the drop.

I pushed my thumbs deep into her waist, holding her through the wind until her shaking ribs settled under my grip.

She pulled her chin back down, looking at me through the loose hair whipping across her face as she pushed the final outro into the night.

"We ain't falling like a domino."

I lowered her slowly, letting her slide down the length of my chest until the soles of her shoes hit the rock.

She stayed pressed against me, burying her face into my shoulder while the last notes hummed against my bare neck.

"Like a domino, domino."

I wrapped her up in the dark, hands gripping fistfuls of her oversized hoodie while her lungs fought for air against my chest.

"You knew the lower harmony," she mumbled into my shoulder, her voice still rough from the cold. "You caught the bridge exactly on the downbeat."

"I have good rhythm."

Her grip tightened in my shirt. "That's a tour-only B-side, Minho. And it came out three years after you quit."

"The Hulu Theater," I said quietly, pressing my palm flat against her lower back. "Madison Square Garden. November 2022. I had a work trip, remember? Took the red-eye out of L.A. and stood in the very back row."

PHOTO CREDITS: yours truly (November 13, 2022, Madison Square Garden, back row)

She went completely still against me, the brutal realization of that flight and that ticket clicking into place.

"You were in New York," she whispered.

"Always there somehow," I said, sliding my hand around the back of her neck and tangling my warm fingers into her freezing hair. "I never miss a stage."

Yeji sucked in a sharp gasp against my shoulder.

Then the world dragged us back. A massive wave shattered below, and someone, probably Yunjin, yelled from far down the beach by the bonfire. Yuna shouted something equally loud in response, followed by Chaeryeong screaming and Karina's boisterous laughter tearing up the beach.

Then Yeji exhaled a long, shuddering breath into my collarbone.

"My ass is going numb," she groaned.

A sharp, wrecked laugh tore out of my throat before I could stop myself. Yeji's shoulders started shaking against my chest, her forehead digging into my muscle as she failed to swallow down her own ridiculous giggling. We were standing on the edge of a deadly cliff drop, laughing pointlessly into each other's necks like idiots in the dark.

"So romantic," I choked out.

"It really is. Lava rock is terrible."

"I'll bring a blanket next time."

Next time.

She went quiet, and my laugh died before it could finish.

She pulled her face up from my shoulder. Tears caught the starlight in her eyes and made her look startlingly young.

"Yeah," she finally whispered, her fingers tightening at my shirt. "Next time."

I dragged my thumb under her eye and swiped the moisture away before it could slip down her cheek, letting her lean deeper into my hand.

"You weren't scared," I said quietly. "When I had you hanging over the ocean."

"Of course I was scared," she muttered.

"Didn't feel like it."

Her grip tightened at the back of my shirt. "Because you don't drop me."

The whole song-and-dance still burned through my muscles, from the heat to the tight grip to the last murmur of her singing against my skin, folding all that lost time down to the single fact that she was standing right in front of me.

"You actually sang for me," I said quietly.

Her mouth gave a weak, broken twitch. "I get paid to sing, asshole."

"You sang for me tonight."

She turned her head slowly, looking intently out toward the endless stretch of stars.

"You walked me back to it," she whispered. "I forgot how to share a count."

***

Somehow we ended up on the flattest shelf of basalt I could find, because Yeji was shivering through my hoodie and I sure as hell wasn't letting her freeze her ass off on a jagged pile of rock.

I sat first, planted wide, and tugged her down between my knees before she could argue.

She hit my lap with a startled yelp as my arms clamped around her waist. Grabbing my forearms, she adjusted her thighs and leaned back against my chest, tucking her bare legs between my denim.

The Pacific pounded the shoreline below in a slow, heavy rhythm. After a minute, her shoulders stopped jumping under my hands.

"It's almost too much," she murmured into the cold air.

I rested my chin near the crown of her head. "What is?"

"All those stars." She kept her hands still over mine.

I followed her gaze up. Without the Seoul smog bleeding out the sky, the galaxy stretching over us looked massive.

"Yeah," I said quietly. "Makes you feel small."

She let out a slow breath. "Small... but not alone."

I pulled my arms tighter around her waist, letting the heavy crash of the shoreline fill the dark for a minute.

"Karina whispered something to me," she said, dropping lower against my chest. "That first night at her villa."

I dragged my thumb over her knuckle. "After she hugged you?"

Her head turned slightly. "You saw that?"

"I saw her lean in. I saw you nod." I pressed my jaw against her hood. "Never heard the words."

Her hand closed harder over my forearm.

"She said, 'Without the courage to fall.'" Yeji looked back up at the stars. "'You already know, Yeji-yah - you sang it yourself.'"

The surf hit the rock below us.

"'You can never fly,'" I murmured, pressing my jaw against her head. "Best line in Bet On Me. Can't believe Karina gets your own lyrics better than you do."

Her elbow knocked lightly into my ribs. "Show-off."

Her pinky found mine and hooked around it, small and stubborn.

"I think..." She swallowed hard. "I thought if I just... opened my hand, there'd be nothing there."

I looked down at our fingers.

She squeezed once.

"But there is."

My grip tightened around her waist.

"If I had debuted..." I said under the sound of the surf. "Would we even have this?"

She finally broke her gaze away from the sky, shifting her head to look at me. "This?"

"Us. Like this." I looked down at our hands. "Maybe we would've eaten each other alive trying to survive it."

She dragged her thumb over the back of my hand. "Maybe that version of us would've been worse."

"So what do we do now?"

Her fingers tightened around mine. "We stop trying to rewrite the stars. We just... look at them."

I squeezed her fingers back in the quiet, pressing my jaw against her cool hair.

"You became Hwang Yeji because I quit," I told her to the dark. "Like I said. If I'd stayed, you would've kept focusing on fixing my head. I left, and you had to build everything yourself."

Her back went rigid against me.

"You want to know a secret?" she asked.

"Always."

"That night in the practice room. When I was falling apart, and you sat on the floor with me and told me I belonged there." She swallowed hard. "I became an idol because you made me believe I could."

I went quiet.

"Every stage I stood on," she whispered out into the ocean. "Every award I took. Every time I led the group when things went to shit... I was channeling the person you saw in me that night."

I closed my eyes, pressing my face into her hair.

"So yeah," she finished, a wet, quiet laugh slipping out. "You left. But you also gave me everything."

For once, I didn't know what to hate myself for. I buried my face into the side of her neck, pulling her flush against my chest until she let out a long, shuddering sigh.

Her body heat warmed my skin right through the fleece. The waves kept hitting the rock below us. Her hand stayed locked in mine.

We watched the stars.

I loosened my grip slightly so she could breathe.

"So why were you actually standing on a cliff edge taking shitty pictures in the dark?" I asked.

Her mouth curved into a smile against my collarbone. "I told you. I needed a photo for Bubble."

"You have six thousand photos of yourself on your phone right now."

"Of stars, idiot. A starlight shot." She twisted against my chest, retrieving the cold metal of her phone from her back pocket. "I've been dead silent online since we got to Jeju. Since you took those sunset pictures of me looking..."

"Like a liability?"

"Exactly." She sighed, staring down at the black screen. "I needed a cover story. A peace offering for the fans to cover my tracks. But my hands kept shaking the lens out of focus."

Her bare fingers trembled against the phone casing. I slid my arm around her side and offered my palm.

"Let me?"

She handed the phone over immediately.

I brought the screen up, framing the brightest cluster of the Milky Way directly over our heads. The camera static cleared instantly. I locked my elbows, leveling the shot perfectly still.

Her hand came up. Her freezing fingers slid over the back of mine, letting our knuckles overlap as we held the frame together.

"Ready?" I murmured.

"Yeah."

She dragged her thumb over mine, hitting the shutter.

The screen flashed once, burning a crisp, sharp image of the Jeju stars into the camera roll.

Yeji let out a long, shuddering exhale. Dragging her hand down, she hooked her pinky blindly into mine and rested her head back onto my shoulder. The phone slipped onto my denim. I wrapped both arms securely around her, burying my face against the fleece of her hood as we stared up into the dark.

The digital glow of the locked screen faded to black against my jeans.

***

[NARRATOR]

Two silhouettes sat tangled together on a flat shelf of dark volcanic rock. The Pacific stretched out before them, an endless expanse of black water and silver break crashing against the basalt in a mindless rhythm. Behind them, far up the sand, the bonfire had already died down to an tiny orange pinprick.

And above them: stars beyond counting.

The Milky Way swept across the black sky, a massive stretch of burning gas and dead space. The galaxy turned in the dark, holding no stake in the shoreline below or the five stolen years surviving on one ledge of stone.

Millions of fans spent their lives looking up at the girl on the Jeju rock, their own devotion illuminated by her heat.

But the sky offered no such promises, leaving the real stars to shine in the freezing vacuum of space regardless of who was watching.

All that empty space rendered the moment ephemeral.

Jeju had always been a place of exile - a stray sliver of volcanic rock separated from the real world by a small stretch of sea. The mainland's rules didn't apply out here. All the island offered was a brief suspension of time, leaving the cameras and the crushing pressure of Seoul across the water until nothing remained but the truth.

Caught between the black ocean dropping below and the silent universe expanding above, the only warmth in the coastal wind came from the embers they'd learned to keep alive in each other.

And the only meaning at the edge of the world was whatever they chose to hold in their hands.

So the stars just kept shining.

And so would they.

Intro | Masterlist | Series Index Previous Chapter

――――――――――――――――――

MINHO, YEJI, YUNA, AND KARINA WILL RETURN IN THE EPILOGUE

And it's flawless, because she makes it flawless - which is the true cruelty of it.

You reply: for the record, I poison the food, trace amounts, bioaccumulative. you'll go quietly in your sleep the week before you become partner, and i'll be left to grieve into your half of a security deposit

we are never seeing that deposit again because you put your fist through the drywall demonstrating a rear naked choke

You said you felt unsafe walking to the subway

I feel unsafe walking to the kitchen, thank you very much. She turns a page she was reading - now drink your spit.

Gladly

You'd had this apartment since you were both broke - instant-noodle broke, splitting one metrocard broke, the sort of broke that's almost fun in the rearview because you survived it by the skin of your teeth.

Now she bills more in an hour than the rent. You do something with capital you've stopped trying to explain at parties - rather, take a middle distance, talk about all the publishing companies you've sponsored. exclaim books aren't dead after all! [1]

[1] of course, the irony of it is that they are, kind of dead

The radiator finds a new place to leak everyday, the second bathroom is a closet on account of all the pipe failures - and you have to pass by her bedroom to go to the bathroom. You'll take your grim - as she says - 4-in-1 facial cleanser, moisturizer, toner, window cleaner beside her 70 products to - as she says, to look like a porcelain cup. Either of you could leave tomorrow. But you don't.

I'm making you a tinder profile you say, taking her phone off the counter, sliding in the code to her phone.

I don't need a profile

You need a life. Or, at minimum, an orgasm that isn't self-induced.

She scoffs at the answer, still focused on the book -

You read aloud what you type in: emotionally available between the hours of never and also never.

Keep going. I'm aroused.

Lawyer, with three working holes

She sets the book down - this is how you know you've drawn blood - give me the phone

Make me

You had reserved a restaurant for the two of you, this new restaurant that was supposed to be great according to 15 google reviews who probably were the owner's extended family - doing their due diligence to make sure that this specific child doesn't become the family disappointment.

As always, the food comes out less than satisfactory; all the dishes are doused in butter; and the salad section was the most calorically dense section of the menu. You whisper about how much better you can make each of these dishes back home - and she'll agree, for once:

You ruined restaurants for me. I used to enjoy being disappointed by the $20 millennial man-bun burger. Now there's a douchebag at home who makes a great burger.

my pleasure with a smile.

She's scrolling tinder, still scrolling ever since the morning. Look at this, look at what's available to me. This one opened with the word 'yes'.

Atleast he's confident about it.

Oh please... she sighs, and this one wanted to know - whether i would rather have one thumb for a tongue or a tongue on every finger.

What did you land on. I think the tongue on every finger -

Nothing! It's so impractical, i'd rather think about - i don't know, vigorously masturbating.

You choke on some food you were actively chewing on, and she giggles - of course she does - and this one spelled 'pussy' wrong, this one wrote 'wyd 2nite' and I just have to scoff - how lazy do you have to be. It is ONE keystroke. T-O.

She drops the phone facedown, Who raised these men. Who looked at a child and thought: i will release this, unfinished, into the apps.

You'd know more about raising them, if you'd dated more than one person since the Pleistocene.

Atleast I committed, you - you just find anybody to fuck around with. She points at you, still chewing the complimentary bread - there was that one with the lululemon workout gear, said that's her sexpertise - she mimics a gag - then the DJ. The other DJ. Then I think there was another fucking DJ. I just genuinely -

Respect the hustle, Sohyun.

Respect the hustle? Your dick has commitment issues.

You laugh, and she's laughing too, the helpless one she hates, hand over her mouth, a soft cackle, perfect, uneven teeth showing - and you pay before she can fight you about it.

There's a dress shop two blocks down, on the way back to your apartment - and there's a green dress of something very expensive, to which she slows just a tad for -

You: Try it.

No thanks. It's ten thousand dollars with a tag.

So is everything you own. And then, you can't help it, it's right there - you lower your voice into something oily, shriveled, all menace, Let your uncle get it for you.

Absolutely not, strike it from the record

Uncle's had a very good quarter sweetheart. You pat a pocket. Uncle wants to see you in the green one.

I will call the actual police, I will have you locked up in maximum security - but, that laugh, she can't help herself, laughing into her hand - ...does uncle want to come in - watch me try it?

And for once, neither of you has the line to pull back.

...That got away from us, you manage, like something's lodged in your throat

That got away from you. She says. Buy me the dress, uncle. I've earned it.

Of course. You buy it.

The weekend arrives with the both of you brushing in the same bathroom, the only usable bathroom. She gargles, lets the foam clear away before slotting a length of floss between her teeth - By the way, I've a date today

With a... functioning human being?

His name is Mark. He used a semicolon correctly, nearly proposed on the spot.

So he's unemployed

He's a structural engineer, building the finest bridges.

Man who builds bridges and stays punctual - sounds like you matched with linkedin premium.

He's nice. Two long relationships, both ending kindly. Tips like he's apologizing for capitalism.

...So a serial killer?

He's just nice, man. She moves to throw the length of loss away.

Nobody's just nice. 4 months later the neighbors will find the crawlspace. You amble a comb through your hair. and then, I'll say I told you so.

She presses an index finger into your gut and you reflexively jolt - save this barking for later, uncle.

You move into the living room, waiting for Sohyun to get ready. You didn't get to see her in a green dress yet -

Uncle, I'm ready. She says, behind the door.

This uncle bit is getting old, Sohy - She comes out, the green dress skims her curves, the v-neck that presses her cleavage together, gleaming hair, glowing skin, plump lips -

Eyes up here mister.

Right. Get a hold of yourself - yeah, it looks great. Like, I don't know, it's like an accidentally sexy librarian.

Your eyes are fixed to my cleavage, I'm not even sure if you got the full view.

You did, you definitely did. This is, without a doubt, the hottest woman you've ever seen.

Now, help me zip up this thing.

There's the long bare reach of her back, you drag it up slowly, the zipper is small and your hands are big and you don't want to waste a moment of counting all the moles on her back.

I'm sorry but there won't be a person left in this city who hasn't looked down the front of that dress you say, pulling the zipper by parts.

Here I was, hoping the one exception was you.

Afraid not. You move some hairs away from her nape to get the zipper fully closed.

And she turns again, the dress comes out even more pressed to her curves, and that v-neck, god almighty. She steps into the heels -

I'm picturing it, you - a human - and this... linkedin premium.

God please no

I'm picturing it - two barbie dolls in the dark, knocking smooth plastic parts together. You say, vulgarity be damned.

Please stop talking - a familiar twitch to her mouth, god what you would do to continue living with her.

He won't get anywhere regardless, you add, holding out her coat unasked. Ten years with one man, a year of nothing since: there are cobwebs in there.

You know what's charming about the women you date? she says, taking the coat. How they all vanish after exactly one dinner. Like you're running a very tidy little murder operation

You know what's charming about the men you date? They don't exist. Mark is the first confirmed sighting. That's a million dollar sighting. Rarer than bigfoot.

Mark exists.

We'll see if he survives contact. Go easy on him, castrator

Don't need to go easy, dahmer. He's structurally sound. She slings a bag over her shoulder. Dont wait up.

You wait up, badly: lights off, a finance newsletter open on your phone that you're not reading, slouching on the couch like a man who is definitely not watching the door, ambling away the scalding minutes.

The lock turns at around eight PM. She comes in on the green dress and a drunk smile -

So, you say

So. She drops her shoes

How was Marco

Mark - she says, with emphasis - was wonderful.

And something about it feels wrong. Like swallowing something that's whole, cratering its path through your esophagus. Wonderful how, be specific, treat it as a deposition.

He's funny, actually funny, she pads into the kitchen, where you've already moved, filling two glasses of wine - we didn't stop talking. Three whole hours of talking, they flipped the chairs onto the tables around us.

Insufferable

There's a second date, a sip from the wine, a gentle smile on her. You wouldn't know the feeling.

Conversation's never been my deliverable.

No. I've seen your deliverable. It leaves before the coffee and changes its phone number

It leaves satisfied, you gesture, A courtesy Mark may never trouble you with

She hops up onto the counter, legs swinging in a gentle rhythm. And that dress - your dress, your genuinely terrible idea - pressed high to her thigh, all pretense of hem gone, riding clean all the way to the upper -

You'd buy it anyway. You'd buy it on leverage you don't have -

Oh please, monk of the orgasm temple. She scoffs. "Satisfied." Then tips her head, lowers the lashes, entering this little play that she imagines your women sing: I see you across the bar and - gosh (this emphasis on the trashiest possible gosh) - you really want me to put my tongue there!? I've never done that before. Sweet as a song. Does that play? On the book-illiterate?

Devastatingly so, you say. You should audition to be one of these... book-illiterates. I'm always casting.

No thanks. I've got a second date to look forward to.

Do you even get to the regular stuff, you ask, or do you have to bury the body first?

Now - she aims the empty glass at your sternum - you're trying to get me worked up.

You retrieve the glass, but up close she's all wine-warmth, hot perfume, the gentle trace of another man's cologne, and your body, traitorous as it is, gets worked up.

Oh my god. she says, looking down, radiant, with a ticking-time-bomb of a laugh - is that what I think it is?

Quickly, try to play it off - Don't flatter yourself, I was outside for a while and walked past alot of women - and she catches the lie like it's nothing, scoffing: You walked past, maybe, a leaking radiator.

The radiator's been forward lately. I haven't wanted to make it weird.

Should've seen it sooner, looks like we're arranging the date soon for the radiator fucker, she rules.

Oh, but I'm shy - an awful pitch to your voice.

And there's this soft silence, like nothing's wrong in the world - and Sohyun's grinning at you, wine marking her lips a tad darker, like you could just -

She tilts her head, openly appraising - I've always had a soft spot, she murmurs, for the small and the weak.

There's nothing small about me

You bring your dick up an awful lot. She slides off the counter and lands close. I wonder what that means.

It means you keep looking. I knew you would.

I wanted a visual, she says, It'll be giving me nightmares for weeks, thank you very much.

And then nothing's said. Kitchen too small, this green dress too close, the fact that you've got a hard-on to her and she... Fucking. Knows.

Goodnight, Dahmer she brushes past - because she has never once let you have the last move - and goes down the hall to her bedroom

And you're fine.

Completely fucking fine.

A month passes, Mark, the angel Sohyun's in love with has her busy on the weekends, letting her experience the city for what it's worth, letting her live a life she's missed out on for years.

He texts you on a Tuesday. Apparently I've been dating your roommate a month and never once bought her roommate a drink. Let me fix that - Friday? Sohyun's in, obviously.

You go to hate him - an agenda that Sohyun is already aware of. They're already there in the corner booth, two of them sitting next to eachother - and Mark rises to shake your hand. Tall and good-looking, how cliche - like he's never been escorted out of a holiday party by the shoulders.

You came. Mark says. Sohyun bet me twenty you'd bail.

I should have. I had a flawless evening of resenting you from across the city already booked. You slide in across from them.

So, you say. Bridges, tell me about the one that collapsed. The bodies, all the bodies.

None of mine have collapsed

That you know of.

He won an award, Sohyun interjected.

An award for a bridge that hasnt failed yet - committee's bold then. Waitress brings a beer, foam leaking at the top, and you take a sip - Personally, cantilevers - I say as a layman - overrated.

Overrated how. He gives a pleasant smile

The general load -

You don't know what a cantilever is.

I know it's a kind of bridge

It's mostly a kind of shelf. And he's kind about it, which is just unsufferable. You just came to find something wrong with me.

A felony. An ugly walk. An ugly way of chewing. Maybe you cheer for Arsenal. You reply, suavely.

Sorry to disappoint.

It's enraging. I keep waiting for you to mention the women in the well.

No well, he mock-sighs. HOA's strict.

It's the moment you tip - Has she told you what she actually does? She castrates men for a living. It's all framed back home.

And Sohyun - careful all night, porcelain-beautiful, hair curled to perfection - It's family law, castration for itemization. There's a huge difference.

Then she adds: Don't let him do the wounded act by the way. He's a "venture capitalist" and calls it a vocation.

I also keep a few dying publishers as pets, you tell Mark.

Sohyun, not missing a beat, There's a working theory. I won't bore you with the evidence but it has to do with organs.

There's no evidence. You point at her, then finally finishing the rest of the beer. It's all gone, mysteriously.

Mark interjects: They're not dying, though, the publishers. A little lost.

Oh, they're dying, you and Sohyun say, at the same time, in almost the same key - the both of you laugh.

That's the first time you feel him fall behind. He laughs too - but it's lagged, late.

You always look like you're one step off a knife fight, she tells you.

I'm delighted to be here, actually. Means I'm not off evicting some single mother from a shelter.

That was an accident.

Hmm.

There was a - Mark starts. - a shelter?

Long story, you and she say, in unison, and don't tell it.

He sits back a little.

You mention you came straight up from the office and she says she didn't realize they let people jaunt back and forth over the River Styx[2] like that, and you say there's a small toll, it's all very very very civilized, and Mark says the cross-town traffic this time of night is honestly murder -

[2] Sohyun's foul mouth comes up with a brilliant joke: that you are dead, but you still walk back and forth over the River Styx, which is the boundary from the living world and the underworld in greek mythology. Curse her!

and hears himself, and stops. Lays an arm along the booth behind her, losing the ability to time himself, and just watches. Like this girl was nothing like what he was looking at, something nearer to wonder, a man at the aquarium glass.

She laughs, turning mid-laugh to bring him in, asking isn't this funny, and finds him already looking at her, gone soft and far off, and the laugh snags in her throat.

Mark calls for the check - On me. Least I can do. For the floor show.

Laying - drunk off my tits the wine we spilt painting the ground there's a barrier that jives around his warm face And I notice then, you could ruin my life

Chapter 2:

A day later,

You get home, you spot a bottle of something brown open, shining on the island. You're good at connecting dots. There were peonies scattered on the floor (Mark is the one to end things with flowers, pleasant as always).

And she's drunk enough to reach for the old shtick. So. Who's the lucky sixty-nine-year-old you've been ruining lately?

My aunt.

Your aunt's dead.

Which would explain why she's been so pleasantly quiet in bed.

She laughs, then she stares at the open window, ruminating:

I had someone. He left his contacts wilted on the bathroom counter, fossilized into half-globes. I'd come home and want to hear about his day - I mean I really wanted to, almost fetishistic, kiss what was left of the razor burn on his neck. He made the worst scrambled eggs. Rubbery, every morning, and I ate them every time. She turns around: ten years of rubber eggs.

What about you, she asks.

I had a woman. You take a sip of the brown she was drinking. She used to argue about the doneness of pancakes and then put her hands up my shirt and call the whole morning menial, and I'd ask: what purpose do we serve. The answer was always: I'm fine right here.

She sits, lets her head rest back against the cushion. Everyone wants somebody to understand their personality and their childhood and what each of those things has done to the other one. That's the scam of it. You show your pale underbelly, turn your ribs inside out, fashion your whole interiority for them and beg them closer, closer than that, even closer - and they get close enough, and then it's - they're already on the other side, and everything's over.

She picks up the bottle and sips. I feel like an alarm. Wailing. That's the humiliation of wanting. Capitalists fooled us into thinking wanting is shameless. Love takes you to shame two times over. 10 years. A scoff at the number.

You're not an alarm.

That's very funny. She stares past you, calculating the whole of you. A lawyer and a venture capitalist with Beckett on the shelf. He'd write us as two people in bins.

I once saw a pigeon on its back, she says. Alive but dying. It blinked at me, tire-smirched, blood-grizzled. I didn't do anything. I should've stepped on its brain. You know why that's sad? Pigeons know how to hurt but don't know how to sin. She drinks. I'm not sad about me. I get exactly what I deserve.

What do you deserve. You ask.

I don't know. Everything terrible. A man who makes bad eggs.

She's close enough now that you get the liquor and under it the her of her, the scalp, the skin, and you think of the skyscraper poem your ex wrote: how we overextend our necks staring at something enormous, like those mornings when someone's still asleep and their face is so calm and wantless and they're not even being a person yet and they're so perfect you want you want you want.

Do we ask the earth for permission? she says. Do we? There are little arachnids living on our eyelashes right now, clearing our pores and mating under the full moon, and their whole lives depend on us, and they never asked and we never asked - do, we, as arachnids, need permission from our earth?

No.

You press a hot hand to her stocking-clad thigh. She presses a flat hand to your chest, slips a whole hand in between the buttons of your shirt, spreads her fingers over the heartbeat.

Do you feel that, you say. Do you feel what you're doing to me.

You hold her hand there until the urge to kiss the fingertips wins - pen-worn hand, redness at the tips from gripping the legal pad all day, nails short and practical. You lift it, kiss one fingertip, and she makes a sound, this small mewl, and leans forward, mouth to your chest through the shirt, your neck, your jaw. You hold still. If you move you'll move wrong. You'll break whatever calculus she's built in her head to let this happen.

How am I supposed to not want you, you say.

What's the difference between you and other men. They're all horrible.

I'm horrible. But I'm here.

Don't be full of yourself. She pulls you in by the tie. You're preposterous

Her fingertips find a piece of twine protruding from a button and incise it. Your mouth on her shoulder. Her spine under your palm. The heft of her hair hooked left, more kisses, the tendon on her neck, the jaw, her mouth again, and she pulled you by the the tie, left and right, kissing whatever remained unkissed - a gesture so old, as old as the grandmother who named an ocean on her grandfather's wrist, who kissed each knuckle, who drew an island into his palm and told him which parts they would share and which they would leave alone - the open brown, the Francis Bacon print on the wall, and to think of her holding you down tugged up the wire of every species on this earth, not the electric inventions, something bigger, a fevered movement across the world, all the trees at once turning dewy -

nothing else matters at all.

stomach-churning pulses grinding through your intestines - and she's between your legs, pressing your legs apart, pulls off her dress shirt, her skirt, all that's remaining: nude bra and panties.

There's a soft unsteadiness in her, the alcohol, the need, the want all combining into this weak-knee'd unsteadiness - you hold her smallest fingers, steady her.

Did you jerk off thinking about me? she asks.

All the fucking time.

She smirks, sinking to her knees, hands bracketing the heat of your thighs. Her hands twist into your trousers.

I want to taste you, the weight of you on my tongue, the stretch. The heat of your cock.

She gently pulls down your trousers all the way, hands tracing the heat of your thighs - ignoring the obvious, the trapped heat.

She reaches up, still kneeling, finds the first button of your shirt, let's a hand go under to feel your warm abs as she unbuttons with one.

Did you do this with Mark, you say.

A smile on her - No, no I didn't. Are you glad?

You sigh with relief -

She grins, splays a hand on your chest, all the buttons off, the heartbeats -

do you feel it Sohyun - do you fucking feel it - you're driving me insane.

She takes a deep breath, breathing you in, the cologne melting off with your sweat, and you dot kisses on her scalp - that flowery shampoo, that smell that's hers, distinctively.

She's easing the lid open on you, finding the kinks in the armor. dotting kisses on your pecs, sitting up, still on her knees, pressing her fingers into soft spots and hard spots alike. She runs her palms down your thighs, closer to your cock, back up again.

You pull her hand into you, hand on her cheek, tilting her head up and pressing your lips onto hers, tonguing at her. Retaliation beckons: she palms your cock, rubs her palm over the heat, working the thin fabric for all it's worth.

She leans forward as she curls fingers over the band of your boxers, kissing the V of your waist, and she trails lower, closer to the heat. And you're pulsing, barely keeping it together and she lets your cock rest next to her neck -

it's so fucking hot

I know, please. you barely let out

please what?

stop fighting me, you're torturing me.

She presses a kiss on the first thick inch she sees:

You're granting me all this control - second inch, fingers curling on the base of your cock. kissing the inches, all the way - and the fingers - wrapped all the way around the thick of it.

it's hard to even close around it. And she's almost relieved.

It's hard to breathe, do you tell her that? Do you tell her that she's ruining you with just her hand staying static around your cock? That her little kisses are already taking you to that extreme?

You're twitching. A venom to her voice.

What do you want? your hands turning white gripping the couch.

I want you to fuck me. fuck my throat, turn me into a whore. I've all this control and it disgusts me.

But before you could process any of it, the sickening thrill of it: she grips harder, lets you throb in her hand, the burn of your cock; and leans forward, dragging her tongue flatly from base to tip in a wet line.

Your thighs tick forward.

And she mewls: I want more of that

She shifts higher, brings her mouth to the head of your cock and lets saliva drip along her tongue.

Pushing, letting it glance unevenly over the head - she flattens her tongue again, drags it over your cock, drags her fingers oh so soft. All this slick, the twist of her wrist, the second hand now closing in around the head of your cock, fist curving tighter over the sensitivity as it slips through all her spit.

And you're losing it: she's turning her wrist near the top, letting it meld into her soft tongue, letting your thick cock hit her tongue once or twice then not again and you can't fucking take it:

please

what?

please - what more can you say? She's trying to end you and it's all self-fulfilling.

you dig your palms into your eyes trying to process, you're already on the edge, twitching, weeping pre-cum onto her tongue and she's taking it all like it's everything to her. like the tears of weeping angels.

Another hip twitch -

this salty-sweet tang of your precum, you're so adorable. And she drags both fists up, spreading the remaining precum all over your cock -

Her mouth connects, sucking hard at the head, gripping tigher with her hands, lips stretched, mouth wide, as she sucks and tries to swallow more of you.

She pops off gently, getting breaths in, letting your weeping corded cock rest on her red-hot lips, before swallowing you back down, all the way until the head of yours bumps the back of her throat.

Relaxes - enough to breathe just a little, your cock still taking space in her throat - pulls your hand all the way to her hair, letting it entangle.

Sohyun's spit-slick, hand lands on top of your hand. And she presses down, like demonstration -

but you yank back, and a girlish yelp leaves her -

You finally coil enough power to get a turn. You pull her up by her armpits - and how light she is, like a fucking doll - you rip the stockings underneath her skirt, let two thick veiny fingers enter her sopping wet pussy.

clit rolling against your rough palm, the wet satin of her panties barely there.

And you scrape your teeth over her neck, sucking a mark onto her, as she bounces desperately over your fingers.

such a little thing, locking her waist into you as you push your fingers even deeper. two fingers trying to tear off her bra. two breasts pressed to your face, a nipple in your mouth.

made to fit me.

Cunt squelching on your palm, head dropping back. And you're sick with it, pulling her underwear to the side to watch her cunt weeping on your fingers.

Kissing all over chest, marking her up with your mouth.

On the bed, you think, sink inside her -

but you grab your cock anyway, dragging your head along the slippery pink of her pussy, and Sohyun moans - all sorts of needy that makes your cock throb, weep outside her.

sink on me, princess.

She sinks, forehead pressed to yours, and she's trying -

Feeling her, the wet and slick and tight - the spasm of her cunt, the clench, the leak of her arousal down your veiny cock.

You're fucking her raw, without a condom, rutting up into her, again and again, and she pushes back gently, trying to find a pace that doesn't utterly ruin her and you're chasing her, fucking her deeper, ruining her little pussy.

Until she presses a soft hand to your shoulder, leaning back, face flushed, nipples pink and hard, stomach tensed.

Stare at her - how fucking ruined she is: swollen lips from sucking your cock like it was made for her, sweat beading down her forehead - god is the sweat running down her face. You kiss the salt-worked forehead - a moment of softness.

Then she rolls gently, slipping a hand between her legs, past your thumb resting on her clit, onto the soaking mess of her, that hot pink mess that she's responsible for -

let me hear you, you growl, to her collar, kissing the blooming hickeys you left earlier.

grab at her hips, sit straighter, pull her into your body, let her wrap her hands around your shoulder - grasp at levity as this goddess is cock-drunk off you, still rolling, offering her clit to your thumb.

And she pants.

Clinging onto you.

letting her sopping cunt cling onto you like this was fucking prophecy - it's hot - sweat beading along your back, between your bodies, sticky - the wet noise of her cunt being excavated by a cock a smidge too large.

You're both close, these petty uncoordinated movements making the orgasm closer - sensitivities reaching an opus - only these little shifts of her hips - the urge to stretch this moment for as long as possible

And only then: the quietest orgasm, stuck to the top of her breasts, barely hanging in there, her waist locked between your thick forearms, cum spreading, filling in whatever was left between you.

poems for fucking:

romantic walks up your arm with my lips dinner on your collarbones, a bottle of wine paper bagged somewhere on your ribs I want to see your city, and by don't take me home just yet I really mean: Let's share a whiskey, take the train over your city, spot the pennies lodged between the pavement - let's make sure every part of your skin's been kiss-bitten and that'll take us a while and if it means anything at all, putting a stamp upside-down means I love you and I would turn over every post office in the world just to show you how much I care.

You wake to the cold half of the bed, and the rest of it makes a grim kind of sense: she's gone. Most of her stuff is still here, her shoes, but her daily shoes - gone.

You call, and it rings and rings until the call cancels - you text and the delivered stays there.

It's a Saturday. There's nowhere a person needs to be on a Saturday - but she's a workaholic - and the dots connect: you drive to her firm.

The weekend guard waves you up on account of being acquainted with Sohyun. And you get to the floor where she's usually working, and there she was, through the glass - neat-clothed, glasses on her, working hard on a case you'd never understand.

She looks up and clocks you, immediately bolting to the men's restroom - not toward the elevators or the stairs. And you go in after her -

Sohyun. I just want to talk

God, listen to you. "I just want to talk" Do you have any idea how many women have said that to your back while you looked for your shoes?

Yes. I'm aware of the irony, it's why I'm standing inside your firm at eight a.m instead of pretending you don't exist.

There's nothing to talk about. We were drunk, it was -

There was a shuffle outside the door - an employee? - but before you could look back, she pulled you by your tie into one of the stalls.

And you were dangerously close to her, her face, this face you've been in love with since forever. The one face that you cannot imagine living without - Listen, you try to say -

and she's off the tiles, fist in your tie, pulling you down, kissing you. Shut up.

You take her face in both hands, gently, and hold her back just far enough that the kiss can't keep doing the talking.

I'm not leaving. I'm going to be the worst thing that ever happened to your avoidance. Kiss me to keep me quiet all you like. I'll enjoy it, I'll still be here when you open your eyes.

Her hands press against your shirt, head pressed to your sternum. She stays there for a moment.

Starts kneeling -

Sohyun. You catch her hands. You dont have to -

I know. She looks up, Let me.

The Castrator, who has never once knelt to a man in her life, lowering herself to the tile of the worst room in the building.

You put a hand in her hair, to hold. The dots connect.

Daddy, she mewls.

Hands in your lap.

There's no sympathy for her. You're in this cramped bathroom with her, your groin pushed up to her face, and all she can say is: Daddy.

Open your mouth

Through the small opening in her mouth, you slot in a finger, trace the lower lip and upper lip - gather spit from the tip of her tongue to glaze her lips.

Wider. You say.

She's just sitting there, rubbing her thighs together - like she isn't so fucked and slippery in her underwear that just a small touch could make her cum - that you pressing a finger into her mouth - letting her throat close around that digit - wouldn't make her burst into decibels and let the whole town know that you are fucking her dumb.

She's staring at how you unbutton your pants. Button by button, all the way until your cock's out half-mast diagonal to her face and she's fucking drooling. Slowly moving forward and you pin her head to the wall of the bathroom stall.

How do you want this dick?

Like how you fucked all those other girls.

You think I'm not enjoying every moment with you? That day, we fucked like lovers. You cup her cheeks with one hand and her glazed lips point out duck-like. I'll show you what I like.

You bundle two fingers - index and ring - down her mouth, until her throat closes and she half-gags. Eyes fill with these tears and she tries to straighten herself. Fingers still down there, and it makes it hard for her breathe but -

She's fucking climaxing, barely keeping her hands on her lap. A breathless moan escapes her and you take this opportunity to let your fingers in deeper. Her chest jerks, a tear goes down her left cheek as your knuckles bump her teeth.

Roughly: good girl.

White-knuckled against her spit-trickled dress shirt that won her millions in lawsuits. Just then, you pull your fingers out, and she finally gets to swallow down.

You should be able to price anything. Be cutthroat about it, hedge your potential losses, then hedge on top of them - that's the only way to win. You've seen people go full-in, bet their futures on a life they so desperately deserve and by the end of it, they're lost souls, begging for the past. You thought it made you the only adult in the room. Then the day after that you came inside her and everything crumpled.

Your spit-slick fingers wrapped around your cock and you fisted it gently, just inches away from her mouth. She couldn't help but move forward, but you pin her head again and she's completely mindless - obeying any mechanic of hers that'll grant her a feather of stimulus. You tap your cock against her tongue. You could see the way her lips twitched to close, but she seemed to contextualize enough to know that anything that you didn't allow would be swiftly punished. And maybe now everything was dawning on her:

That you enjoyed sex with her rather than the opposite - that it's supposed to be as intimate as the day you came inside her.

Because this? This was heady, broken, and embarrassing - and all of it was happening in her own office bathroom that she shares with subordinates. One mistake and she's kicked off the ladder. And yet:

I want all of it. I want it. I want it.

You could see how her cloudy eyes mechanized - she was about to cum again - you let your tip on her tongue and she's already around the cycle again. You press the heft of your shaft into her mouth and push in gently. Push in gently because she already came, push in gently because you want to savor - for a few moments longer - how she crumples under you.

You're gentle with it, letting her set the pace, letting her get breaths between strokes. She anchors herself, and this control you give her makes her shiver - even the way her throat clenches when she goes too fucking deep.

She pulls back to breathe, a strand of saliva still connects your tip and her lower lip. And she's staring at the corded red-tipped shaft, speechless.

Stand up

She does, her skirt crumpled just a way's up. She's expectant, wanting something. But this wasn't a day for her wants.

You grab the waistbands of her panties and nylon, pull it down midway and her pussy's just glistening - all-pink, heady, musky, almost pulsing.

Hold your skirt up

And she does, further surrendering to your hand around her throat. And everything was a bit clearer:

You began fisting your spit-slick cock again, pointed down to her panties. Another embarrassing and heady position she can't seem to get enough of: Her eyes are full of will-you's and wants that she can't act on. You press a thumb over her pulse - grunting more hunch-backed trying to not spray your cum too early - and you tighten, tighten until she grips your forearms and loses her breath for just a second - then you release. There's this rush of inhales and exhales as she catches some air and you repeat the choke - until, just until, you press harder than you've done before - her legs going loose, eyes going to back of her head - and you cum all over her panties. Cloudy liquid dotting her skirt, the floor, the nylon , the front of her pussy, and all over the panties.

Fuck.

Is all she says, can say. You pin her jaw to the side so that she can't look at you, only the door, the cruel door that may open for a coworker - and you jolt closer, scooping a bit of your cum and letting two fingers enter her just then. And she's already climaxing, screaming in her own hand.

This is what happens when I do what I want.

Your nose is buried into her exposed throat and your fingers throttling her pussy. your callused hand scraping the hood of her clit, your hooked finger rubbing that spot that makes her legs splinter half-way. You take your fingers out and mash the front of her pussy with the heel of your palm before going into her again. She's rolling with how your cum-slicked fingers penetrate her.

Her body finally gives out and that's when you hug her, your fingers still slotted into her.

In truth, I can't fuck you the way I fucked these other girls. Your fingers finally slow their rolls. I want to enjoy my time with you, not treat you like trash.

And her reply, as best as it could be presented: a wet kiss, hands wrapped around you, grasping the hair behind your head.

Her kiss fluttered gently as you finally let her have one final climax.

I love you.

“Do you guys want to hear how I get to know IU or do you guys wanna let me continue?”

“Both” friend #1 and #2 says simultaneously.

“No.”

“HA! I knew it, this is just one of your fantasies right? There is no way a guy like you could be on par with someone like IU.”

“tsk Ya whatever, anyway like i was saying—”

Just then, me and my friends get interrupted by a far too familiar appearance.

“What are you doing?” Jieun asks.

“Oh, hi Jieun, I was just hanging out with my friends, say hi guys.” I am fucked, aren’t I?

“OH MY GOD, you are actually IU! Oh can we get an autograph?” Friend #2 asks, seems like he doesn’t realize what situation we are in right now.

Jieun ignores them and goes, “We are leaving. Now.” Then she just walks towards the exit into the parking lot.

“Damn, she's cold.” Friend #1 respond. I guess he is flabbergasted by the sudden surprise visit from Jieun.

“Yeah, she's probably going to kill me after this, I gotta go alright guys, maybe I’ll finish the story next time.” I left as soon as I said it, and I am pretty sure both of them are still in awe because now they start to really doubt their beliefs about me. HAHAHAHA.

Alright. We began on one fateful night, me and Lee Jieun walked inside one of the grand hotels in the area after her schedule. You know that yellow dress she wore in the drama? Yep, she had them for this special night.

So me and Jieun, we got inside the booked room right, and well it was not so easy to tell when it came to Jieun on what she wanted to do based on facial expression and body language alone. She was just like in the movie, stoic, like the kind of ice cold princess persona.

“So, would you like some drinks first?” I was talking like I was her servants, heck maybe I WAS her servants for the night, well could be worse.

“Give me that wine.” She pointed at my bag. Yes i carried a wine, she told me to do so.

Opening and serving the drink for her. Surprisingly she was quite a heavy drinker. She lets out a big sigh after gulping her first glass, like she just released a big chain that was on her back for the entire week or something.

I remembered we didn’t talk much, I did prepare some dinner for the both of us. She said the food I cooked tasted nice, but she said it with little to no emotion, so I couldn’t really get if she likes likes it or just saying it for the sake of saying it.

We finished eating, not talking much right, STILL it felt awkward in a way. Now I was quite inexperienced just to let it be clear, but I KNOW it wasn’t supposed to be this awkward silence. I was putting away the dirty container right, Jieun wanted to take a shower she said and went ahead, and I was like “Okay.” I don’t put much thought on it.

After I put away our bento and got myself ready to take a shower as well, I saw Jieun walked out of the shower room, still only wrapped in towel, and I can see her sexy legs her pale white and sexy thighs, not to mention the water drip on her upper body makes her tits and face shining, it just all adds up. She looked at me for a second, I was already shirtless by the way, then she just looked away and went to bed.

I took a quick shower since I already cleaned myself thoroughly for the preparation of tonight. Y’all I am not kidding, when I went out of the shower room, I saw Jieun LITERALLY masturbating on the bed.

Back in the bedroom, I saw Jieun on the bed with two fingers deep in her pussy. I was sure I wasn’t in the shower long but Jieun really pumped those fingers in and out of her pussy with a speed like she wanted to get it done soon.

Of course, she didn’t notice me, she was so focused on getting herself off. But something caught me by surprise was she moaned MY NAME.

Changing and mixing the rhythm of her finger fuck in herself. She also played with her perky tits, squeezing and pinching her nipples. I could clearly see her nipples got hardened by the second while she kept up her fingering in her pussy.

Sure enough, not long after, she came, squirting and wetting the bedsheet a little. I thought it was really hot. A woman with such a cold demeanor like her, hid such shameful behaviour, well well, that night I was sure to make her face every embarrassing moment we could make. Starting with her jolted reaction, seeing me stare at her after she came down from her high.

“What, since when did you—”

“I watched the whole thing, including the time you moan my name,” I said moving and leaned closer to her.

Her face instantly turned red, she tried to cover herself with a blanket but I stopped her hand.

“Tonight just got really interesting”

I cupped her face, leaned down and tried to kiss her, but immediately she turned her face away. I guessed she was still too shy that she got caught red-handed by me, masturbating to me.

Still maintaining her cold persona, yet no actual rejection, thus I continue. Started by kissing her cheek slowly, then moving around her jawline before going to the crock of her neck. I lightly sucked parts of her neck to leave a mark on her neck, a reminder of a secret discovered tonight.

“Awh, what are you doing? Don’t—” she said weakly. Jieun did not resist, instead her hands grabbed my head and pushed my head further towards her shoulder.

Using the moment as a sign of willingness, with lick and kisses I trailed a path from her neck down to her shoulder. Then, using my hands I grabbed her arm, lifted it up and pinned it above her head to the bed to expose the smooth and beautiful view of her armpit.

With both excitement and lust coursing through me, I chose to take my time appreciating this beautiful view in front of me. I leaned closer, put my face right up at her armpit and started sniffing at it. The scent from a combination of her perfume and sweat just hit the back of my nostril, and it flipped the feral switch inside me.

I put out my tongue and started licking every detail of her armpit, covering every part of that smooth skin with a trail of saliva right on top. It was so good, it was so nice. I lapped around her armpit while switching between licking and sniffing her armpit. I collected every trace of her sweat from her touching session earlier, leaving only my drool on her underarm before taking a glance at her.

“I didn’t know you have that kind of fetish,” she quipped.

I saw her giggling while throwing that comment at me, “do you like it?” I replied only to be met by her turning her face away from me again.

After indulging myself in her musk and sweat from her pits, I moved downward towards her tits. Squeezing it, I feel how soft and perky it is. I felt pity for those who could only ever see her in a tight dress or when she exposed her cleavage a little. I went on to nibble at her hardened nipple and swirl my tongue around it, which also elicits a moan from Jieun.

Switching between her right and left tits sucking on it, and at times gently biting on it as if hoping that something may come out of it. I did a couple of times until eventually I left a mark of my teeth on her areola.

“I hope I am doing as expectation, my princess”

“Hmph” Jieun still threw her face away as if ignoring me and dismissed me, but I saw a smile on her face.

Done with her tits, I trailed downwards again past her tummy to her pussy and thighs. Jieun immediately covered her pussy with her hands while simultaneously closing her legs together.

“Trust me,” I said calmly.

With that, I gently open her legs. I didn’t go straight to her pussy, but instead I started by kissing her knee, then trailing a path to her thighs. While slowly opening up her legs, I dived myself into her smooth and voluptuous thighs. I lick and munch on that white meaty skin that perhaps made Jieun ticklish that she started to close her legs every so often that forced me to use my hands to keep her legs apart.

“Augh, baby, please, my pussy…” she pleaded.

As soon as she said those words, I went straight to her folds. I can feel the intense heat coming out of her pussy, and I could see some trickle of her juice coating parts of the entrance of her pussy. She was so wet at that time that the only thing that crossed my mind was to suck that pussy and drink all of her juice.

“Babe, please, eat me up, please” she muttered.

That was surprising to her coming from Jieun after she ignored me from the start, but nonetheless, I complied, happily. My mouth to her clit, hardly sucking it which makes Jieun moan with a loud groan in response. Besides her clit, I make sure to put good use of my tongue lapping around her pussy mouth before plunging it inside her. Jieun was so wet that my tongue easily went in and out of her pussy, tongue fucking her until she is close.

“Ahh, Yes, Keep going, Keep Going, please, I am gonna cum, please”

Hearing those words made me put more effort in making her climax. While I tongue fuck her with occasional clit sucking, I was also pressing my hand to her chest and kneading on it. It didn’t take long after such stimulation that she reached another climax.

Her legs trembling, her juices flowing out like waterworks, and I just slurped it all up like a thirsty man.

Finished with the foreplay, I took my time to have her and me to catch some breath. I went ahead for another attempt at kissing her. This time though, she accepted it. I guess she was just too tired to care about her persona, but that’s a win in my book. For the first time tonight, I finally felt a genuine connection. Our lips met in a slow passionate kiss that provided temporary relief after an intense session we just had.

When I pulled back from the kiss, I parted her legs once more, aligning my throbbing hard cock to her soaked entrance. “I am putting in now,” I told her.

As I put my penis inside her, she responded with a small groan as I penetrated her insides slowly. My penis slid in easily because of how wet she was already. I pushed further until my tip reached deep inside her as I felt I hit the entrance of her womb.

“Yes, keep going,” Jieun managed to utter between her heavy breaths.

With audible confirmation, I proceeded to pump her in and out of her pussy, slowly at first then gradually up the pace. Everytime I hit her cervix I could hear her louder moan. It was not long until Jieun reached another orgasm, just only after a few deep and fast thrusts by me.

The sound she made when she reached her orgasm after getting her pussy fucked, it did bring another level of pleassure to my ear. With that, out of the way, I didn’t give her a chance to catch her breath before once again I fucked her.

This time however, it is time for me to have my release. This time I pumped her hard and fast right from the beginning, and tried to get her close to climax as soon as possible. This time because of how sensitive she has become after her climax previously, her pussy was choking my cock. It felt so freaking hot and wet that made me closer to my limit.

“Ah, Ryo, I am close…” she cried out.

Placing my hands on her frame, pinned it to the mattress as I responded “I am close as well, I am going to finish inside. Jieun, please tell me you are safe.”

A smile appeared on her face, probably the first time since the start of this night. “I’m not safe,” she said through ragged breath and moans. “But don’t you dare pull out,” Jieun then wrapped her legs around my waist, locking me inside her.

With that said, my mind went wild, no more thoughts, just the pure lust to fill her with cum. No more holding back, she wanted this, WE wanted this. I threw away the tempo, thrusting deep inside her, poking at her cervix until I heard her moans mixed with her constant gasping for air.

“Cum inside me, please, cum inside me!” she screamed.

And with that, I slammed my full length inside her and I let go. I filled her womb with thick and warm cum. Jieun reached her orgasm alongside me, her walls milking every single drop out of my balls, and her lower body trembled feeling the warm sensation pooling inside her.

After that session, we laid in bed, just relaxed, feeling that post orgasm clarity.

“So, uh, Jieun, do you think we can do this again?”

Jieun didn’t answer immediately, then she said “only if you can give me another load tonight.” She faced away from me when she said that, but that really got my brain short circuited, and my cock hard again in no time.

Tonight, shall be a story untold.

======================================

Seoul never actually got dark like this; it just gave up and went grey. But out here, past the resort, where the black lava rock dropped off into the ocean, the darkness wiped the horizon clean. Overhead, the Milky Way painted a violent smear of white across pitch black. For once, something actually looked better in reality than it had on the curated Instagram accounts Karina had exhaustively scrolled through when booking the trip, looking less like a postcard and more like a direct act of God.

Yesterday morning, when Yeji jumped into her DMs with paragraphs about Chaeryeong’s desperate need for an American beach fire and Lia’s promise of zero light pollution, Karina had read the texts flat on her back. Mostly because her body was still thoroughly wrecked from what Yeji and Minho had done to her the night before. She’d been too busy tracing a ring of faint, finger-shaped bruises on her left breast to care about roasting marshmallows.

But sitting in the sand now, freezing in the coastal wind while the Pacific crashed somewhere in the dark, she had to admit Lia was, in fact, totally right. The stars kept multiplying every time Karina looked up, white and shameless over the water, and her neck started to ache before she made herself look away. Annoyingly, inconveniently, she wanted to pray about it.

By the time the sun fully dropped behind the water, ITZY had essentially relocated their Seoul dormitory and dropped it directly onto the beach. They’d claimed their patch of sand long enough for their belongings to scatter into that comfortable chaos they somehow lived in every day without falling apart. On the sand sat a cracked-open cooler bleeding condensation onto a discarded million-won hoodie, half-kicked-off slides sinking near the driftwood, and Lia’s phone tripod jammed into the dirt to record the impending disaster unfolding by the unlit fire.

Karina watched as her own members wasted no time getting comfortable.

Over on the main blanket, Winter had already fished out the honey butter chips meant for later and declared them chips for right now, hugging the bag to her chest while Ningning and Giselle successfully stole bites anytime Winter looked away. Winter had her knees tucked up inside a Doraemon blanket and her cheeks puffed full of chips, chewing with solemn focus. With Winter, snacks always demanded discipline and respect.

Yeji sat off to the side with one knee drawn up to her chin, silently watching Minho fail, while Yuna tucked her legs under herself and accepted a chip from Ningning, holding it suspended in the air for a long time before finally taking a bite.

Karina glanced over and watched as the boys struggled with fond cynicism. Delegating the fire to them had been an unspoken group consensus, the sort of primitive task men were supposed to handle when they weren’t busy being horny and useless. Although right now, they were just being useless.

Out by the driftwood, Sunwoo was trapped in a miserable loop of polite intervention. He kept taking an eager half-step forward with his mouth open to help, then immediately second-guessing himself and shoving his hands violently back into his pockets out of sheer politeness. It was agonizing to watch.

Down in the sand, Minho crouched beside a questionable pyramid of sticks, repeatedly striking a lighter into the sea breeze while Minjun nodded along as if the effort looked promising.

“You look like a sad YouTuber,” Giselle called from the blanket, clutching a bottle of soju. “Like ‘Man survives one day without wifi’.”

“It’s called airflow,” Minho said, shielding the tiny spark with his palm.

“More like arson cosplay,” Lia chimed in, tapping her screen to take a video.

Minjun nudged a stick with his toe. “No, because if we just -”

“Not like that,” Sunwoo finally interjected.

Ningning popped up on her knees, chewing a stolen honey butter chip. “Wait, I know this! You put the tiny ones under the big ones.”

Winter, still bundled in the blanket, lifted one hand like a student answering in class. “Maybe the small sticks are babies. They need protection.”

Giselle stared at her. “Minjeong-ya, we’re burning them.”

Winter’s face folded into immediate distress. “Unnie, then why did you call it kindling? That sounds gentle.”

Ningning patted the top of her head while still observing Minho’s collapsing stick pyramid with unfettered amusement. “Don’t worry, unnie. They’re brave babies.”

“Oh.” Winter accepted this at once and shoved another chip into her mouth.

When Minho brought the lighter too close to his thumb again, Yeji inhaled sharply enough to be heard over the surf. She folded her arms immediately, squaring her jaw, and Karina watched the tension lock into Yeji’s shoulders.

Giselle sighed loudly over the rim of her cup. “Dude, just use lighter fluid. You’re not winning any prizes for doing things the hard way.”

“I know how to do it naturally.” Minho adjusted the smallest sticks with two careful fingers.

“Dude,” Giselle scoffed, staring at him. “The natural part is fucking failing right now.”

He clicked the lighter again, caught empty air, clicked it once more, and singed his knuckle with a sharp hiss, shaking his hand out fast.

Before he could try again, Sunwoo stepped in, nudged two bits of driftwood apart, crouched, and lit one twist of paper. The kindling finally caught and sent a bright flame crawling up through the center of the pile.

As the wood popped and caught, Chaeryeong clapped loudly, then tucked both hands under her chin in a tiny victory pose.

“See? This is why I brought him,” she beamed, claiming total victory for a fire she hadn’t touched. “You’re all very welcome.”

Sunwoo gave her an appreciative glance across the rising heat.

Chaeryeong smiled sweetly, ambled over, and snuggled into his side. “You looked cold doing all that.”

Orange light spilled across the blankets, catching Winter’s cheek when she turned to ask Ningning for her charger, and flashing off Lia’s rings as she lowered her phone. Karina sat back on her hands, digging her fingers into the cool sand, letting the fire warm her knees.

***

Phone flashlights swept the beach path, throwing long, distorted shadows down the sand dunes before Ryujin’s voice even reached them.

“I told you, this is the right one. Why would I kidnap you to the wrong fire?”

“Bro, what the fuck are you being so mysterious for then?!” Another voice cut loudly over the crashing surf. “You literally dragged me past three empty beaches!”

LE SSERAFIM’s Yunjin emerged from the dark path wearing an oversized flannel peeling off a tight brown crop top and black denim cutoffs so frayed they put the ‘short’ in shorts. Karina watched her from the sand, her aesthetic eye taking in the unapologetic power of Yunjin’s build. Legs for days, thighs with actual power to them, and good bones under all that muscle, the whole package looking like it had told standard idol thinness to fuck off the New York way. She’d always enjoyed casually swatting Winter’s ass onstage, but this was on another planet.

While the rest of the circle clutched maekju and soju bottles, or in Winter’s case - juice boxes, Yunjin bounced on the balls of her feet, carelessly swinging a massive iced americano. Stopping right where the firelight thinned out, she took in the sprawled blankets, the half-buried coolers, the dark stretch of ocean beyond, and finally lifted her cup in approval.

“Damn, okay.” Yunjin laughed. “Fuck. This is kinda cute.”

Ryujin ambled in right behind her wearing a sleeveless hoodie over torn denim shorts and sandals, both hands shoved in her pockets like she owned the fucking place. She’d clearly forgotten to turn off her phone’s flashlight, leaving one side of her hoodie glowing a bright, oblivious white from the inside out. Seeing her, Karina let out a slow, quiet breath into the sea breeze.

“JENNIFER!”

Ningning kicked her blanket off in a flurry of limbs. Chaeryeong shrieked loudly enough to make Minho flinch, nearly flinging her drink into the sand as both hands flew up.

“Wait, is that - “ Yuna scrambled up, dropping her phone in the sand.

Giselle raised her bottle. “Oh my gosh. Jennifer Huh.”

Yunjin swung her iced americano back in a lazy, sarcastic toast. “Aeri Uchinaga. Still drinking on a Tuesday.”

“It’s a vacation Tuesday, so technically it doesn’t -”

Giselle didn’t even get to finish her retort before Yunjin’s attention snapped past the firelight, her face breaking into a delighted beam as she spotted Ningning and Winter. “MY DORMIES!”

Ningning scrambled past the snacks, grabbing Winter by the hood to drag her into the fray.

“Wait, no -,” Winter protested, refusing to pull her hands out of the chip bag. She got crushed into the three-way hug anyway, letting out a startled, high-pitched yelp before abandoning the chip bag and squeezing Yunjin back tightly.

Yunjin practically bounced on her heels, managing to keep her massive iced americano perfectly level with impressive wrist control. She pulled back just far enough to grab Winter by both shoulders. “MINJEONG, YOU GOT HOT! THE WORLD IS YOUR OYSTER, BESTIE,” she screamed, loud enough that Winter’s bangs literally blew back from the force of it.

“You got louder,” Winter gasped, blinking rapidly.

“Y’all are gorgeous, I’m tight,” Yunjin was cracking with sudden sentimentality. “I missed you guys so much!”

Yeji stayed seated, resting her chin on her knee, staring at the three-way hug. “Where are your members, Yunjin? You didn’t leave them unattended near open water, did you?”

Yunjin straightened so fast her iced americano sloshed against the lid. “Bro, don’t even. They’re dead to me. Deadass. They’re at that samgyupsal place down in Seogwipo.”

“That place is so good.” Winter nodded earnestly from inside the throng of overexcited female energy.

“Told you to go.” Ningning stole another chip.

“I sent you the Naver pin,” Giselle called over the fire.

“Okay, I GET IT.” Yunjin locked her fingers around her plastic cup. “I got spammed by the three of you about pork belly, alright?! But I’m literally on my vegetarian comeback-prep bullshit right now! Chewing on leaves! Surviving on water and vibes!”

Yeji spoke from across the fire. “Right, isn’t your comeback at the end of the month?”

“Literally the thirtieth! This is our pre-release getaway, and shit’s CRAZY right now. Actually crazy.” Yunjin rattled the ice in her cup hard enough to underline every word. “Anyway, I had to bounce because they went feral in the restaurant while I had to breathe fumes.”

“Tragic,” Ryujin muttered, dropping onto the sand beside Lia.

“Feral,” Yunjin repeated, gesturing wildly with her free hand. “Chaewon-unnie defected from leadership the moment she got off the plane. She thinks she’s five again or some shit. Giggling and making the staff take four hundred photos of her by the ocean all fucking day -”

Yuna lifted her head from the blanket, her voice devoid of its usual bounce. “Wait. Yunjin-unnie... did you seriously just, like, abandon Eunchae? Why would you do that to me?”

“Zuha has her,” Yunjin clarified, taking a massive, rattling drag of her iced americano. “Actually, knowing Zuha, Manchae’s probably drowning in a koi pond right now while Zuha maintains unbroken eye contact with some local gym bro’s biceps at the next table.”

Lia blinked slowly across the fire, taking an impossibly tiny sip of her drink. “So you did abandon them and decided to follow Ryujin into the dark instead. Valid choice.”

“Ryujin straight-up kidnapped me! We literally just landed! I’m trying to live, yo!” Yunjin threw her free hand in the air, spinning to address the circle. “Wait, how long have you guys been here? What did I miss?”

Yuna crossed her arms and collapsed back onto her blanket, sounding instantly miserable. “Literally everything. Like, you actually missed BLACKPINK at the pop-up concert. Just like me. Which is fine! I’m completely fine! My life is just a tragedy, it’s totally fine.”

“Wait, BLACKPINK was here?!” Yunjin exclaimed, ignoring her woes. “You deadass?!?”

Karina hugged her knees, laughing at the sheer volume of the intrusion. “Yeah, a few nights ago. We’ve been here almost four days. Leaving tomorrow morning.”

“We’ve got three more,” Yeji added, evidently unbothered by all the screaming.

“No way, you guys are leaving?” Yunjin stared at Karina, then whipped around to glare at Giselle. “Are you kidding? I just got here!”

Before Yunjin could demand answers, Ningning grabbed her by the wrist. “Unnie, come here. No, here. Sit here. Wait, why are you drinking coffee?”

“At night,” Lia pointed out, looking directly at the iced cup. “On a beach.”

“Yeah, and?” Yunjin challenged. “Digestion is a sacred process, okay? Some of us didn’t eat the meat and need energy! Gotta keep the fire in the belly going, you know!”

“You texted me at 2 AM asking if the resort had room service bagels.” Giselle watched her over the fire.

Yunjin whipped around, clutching her americano to her chest. “See? This is what I mean. Aggressively West Coast. Smug on contact.”

Giselle smirked. “And you came in shouting. So New York of you.”

“I AM from New York! You went to an international school in Tokyo! You’re the opposite of a California girl, Aeri!”

Ningning looked back and forth between them, utterly delighted by the chaos. Winter leaned close to her, tugging on the hem of Ningning’s sundress twice in a tiny, urgent rhythm, her brow furrowing in concern.

“Are they fighting?”

“No,” Ningning corrected, patting Winter’s knee with solemn authority. “They’re bonding.”

***

Yunjin dropped onto the edge of the blanket, while Ryujin landed beside her with a quiet thud, and within seconds they’d taken over the group dynamic. Yunjin loudly interrogated everybody about their drink choices, yelled at Sunwoo for laughing at her coffee, demanded to know who failed to start the fire, and claimed immediate territory over the disputed honey butter chips. She reached across the blanket to steal one, pausing just as her hand hovered over the bag, her eyes dropping immediately to the movement beside it.

Minho had just blindly passed Yeji a fresh can of Pepsi - one of the new IVE Summer Festa promos with Wonyoung’s face dominating the aluminum. Yeji took it silently, cracked it open with her thumb, tipped it against her knee, and kept listening to whatever Chaeryeong was saying.

Yunjin’s hand froze over the chips. She pulled it back, squinting at Minho over the rim of her iced americano.

“Wait,” Yunjin said, squinting aggressively through the firelight. “Who the fuck are you?”

Minho just blinked at the plastic cup aimed at his nose. “I’m Minho. Yunjin, right?”

“Yeah, but why do I know your face?” She kept squinting at him, the ice rattling as she studied him. “You look SO familiar. Are you staff?”

“I helped run the boards when you tracked Fearless,” Minho answered, giving her a polite little nod.

Yunjin’s eyes went wide. “Oh shit! Studio monitor guy! Yeah!” Yunjin brightened on the spot, then squinted harder like that only made the situation worse. “Wait. So what are you doing on a dark beach with ITZY?”

“He’s a friend,” Yeji answered, fast enough to trip over the words.

Minho let out a slow, visible exhale. “I’m Yeji’s friend.”

“From when we were trainees,” Yeji added, layering on a desperate, aggressive casualness that only made it worse.

Sitting in the sand, Karina closed her eyes. Slowly, with profound spiritual exhaustion, she tilted her head back and made direct, metaphorical eye contact with God.

When she finally brought her gaze back down to earth, Ryujin was staring at the sky like she’d found enlightenment, Chaeryeong had both hands pressed to her temples, and Giselle was taking the slowest drink Karina had ever witnessed. Around the blanket, the same verdict passed from face to face: terrible lie.

Yunjin’s hand froze over the chips. The americano dropped to her lap, forgotten for one precarious second. “Wait. Wait, wait.”

She looked at Ryujin, then at Yeji and Minho, then back to the group, dropping into a conspiratorial whisper that cleanly overpowered the Pacific Ocean. “Are they together?”

The only sound was the snapping wood. Yeji blinked, Minho stared at the sand, and Karina wondered if anyone else was praying for divine intervention or just her.

Chaeryeong scrambled onto her knees so fast the blanket hitched under half the circle. “THANK you! Finally. Okay, because if you watch the way he hands her things, it’s very - I mean, SO not casual. And yesterday morning he rescued her eggs, which unfortunately you weren’t there for, which sounds normal until you understand she was in his shirt, glued to his arm, and then at breakfast her hand kept ending up in places that were very much not friend-coded -”

“Chaeryeong,” Sunwoo interrupted mildly.

“- and there’s a look he does when she’s ignoring him which is textbook drama male lead, except he’s also carrying coolers and fixing drinks which means he’s already full-blown husband-coded -”

“Baby.”

“I have NOTES! Wait, baby, give me my PHONE -”

Chaeryeong stopped mid-reach. She lowered her hands and turned to look at the one person on the blanket who wasn’t looking at her.

“Wait!” Chaeryeong tucked one hand against her mouth. “Ryujin-unnie -”

Ryujin slouched further back on her elbows and stared at the flames. “Nope.”

“Nope?” Chaeryeong echoed.

“No trial by bonfire.” Ryujin crushed an empty chip bag into a tight ball and tossed it toward the cooler. “If Yeji wants to be weird about her trainee friend with nice forearms, she can be weird in peace.”

“I’m not being weird,” Yeji said instantly.

Ryujin let her head tip sideways. “You introduced him like a hostage statement.”

Yeji’s mouth opened.

Nothing came out.

“Yeddeong,” Ryujin muttered, turning back to the fire. “Fix your face.”

Yeji stared at her for too long, then looked down at her Pepsi.

Chaeryeong froze.

Yesterday morning, Ryujin had seen Yeji holding onto Minho-oppa in the kitchen and walked out before anyone finished breakfast. Clean plate, dishes dumped in the sink, posture stiff enough to instantly launch a side plot in Chaeryeong’s head.

Then that massive living room fight later that night never actually made sense anyway. Ryujin had tried to make Yeji rate Minho like some cheap hookup the way they always used to, called him a golden retriever, and pushed until Yeji pulled rank just to shut it down. Then she had lost her mind over it, backing Yeji into a corner to force her to admit he was her boyfriend. But Chaeryeong knew Ryujin didn’t even do boyfriends. She hadn’t been jealous over the guy. She seemed more devastated that Yeji refused to play their old game anymore.

There was a massive hole in the plot. Whoever wrote their scripts was taking the whole ‘show, not tell’ thing to a totally depraved level. And right now, Chaeryeong could really use a lot of telling.

Instead, Yeji was sitting in the firelight with that same soft mouth, and Ryujin just... stayed.

Chaeryeong sank back onto the blanket and blinked. “I missed an episode.”

Yunjin dragged her iced americano closer to her chest like she needed it for protection. “Girl, I missed the whole season.”

Ningning let out a scandalised shriek, and Winter made a soft ‘ohhhhh‘ of comprehension despite grasping almost none of the actual context. The noise bounced around the circle, everyone talking over each other. In the blur, Karina caught Yuna laughing. The sound hit a note too sharp. Her mouth was thrown wide, but her eyes were already darting away before anyone could meet them.

Through the chaos, Yeji finally looked away from the fire. She shifted her gaze down the sand to find Minho. He was already watching her. He let out a slow, visible exhale, his shoulders dropping in resignation.

Ningning chose that moment to poke the fire with a driftwood twig. The end caught at once, flaring violently. She pulled it out and held the tiny torch up in triumph.

“See? You just have to be aggressive with it.”

“You’re waving it too close to the chips!” Winter shrieked, hugging the bag tight against her chest. “If the chips burn, we’ve got nothing!”

“The chips are safe, unnie, calm down.” Ningning never shied away from any opportunity to be a menace.

The circle shifted after that, the group relaxing their postures as drinks changed hands and people readjusted their spots. Someone mentioned their flight time for tomorrow, prompting Giselle to groan loudly into the sleeve of her sweater. Winter asked the group for the fourth time where her charger had gone, openly accusing the beach itself of theft. Over by the driftwood, Sunwoo and Minjun fell into an easy, low-voiced conversation with Minho. Chaeryeong successfully stole Sunwoo’s sleeve again, pulling it over her knees, while Lia leaned back to snap a photo of Winter digging for a snack right as Yeji lunged across the blanket to rescue a tipping beer can.

***

Karina watched Yuna from across the fire.

The maknae sat bracketed by Ningning and Giselle, staring straight through the flames. She had drowned herself in an oversized hoodie pulled past her hips, the sleeves bunched tight over her knuckles, gray sweatpants swallowing the legs she usually treated like a public service. Yuna lived in crop tops, bikini bottoms, and whatever gave her legs the most mileage. Tonight she was a ghost in thick cotton.

Her phone lay blank in the sand. Every few minutes, she picked it up, stared at the black reflection, and dropped it back into the dirt like it’d been poisoned. Between checks, she tipped soju into her mouth in sharp, impatient sips, forcing the liquid down her throat like she was trying to erase the taste of something else.

Karina pushed up from her blanket and crossed to Yeji. “Your maknae’s unusually quiet,” she said, dropping down beside her friend.

“Yeah.” Yeji tracked Karina’s gaze. “She’s been off since yesterday. Told me she had a beach hookup while we were out the day before, and that it went bad.” Yeji dragged a thumbnail along the rim of her Pepsi can. Condensation wept down the aluminum, running straight through Jang Wonyoung’s printed summer-festa smile. “She shut down when I asked for details, but I saw the bruise on her chest. Right here.” Yeji tapped high on her own breast. “A dark one. She tried to hide it from me. I think whoever she brought back hurt her, and she’s too embarrassed to admit it.”

Karina watched Yuna force a wide, loud smile at whatever Ningning was saying. The muscles around her mouth worked hard, but her face sank right back into a flat stare the second Ningning looked away.

“You want me to talk to her?” Karina offered.

Yeji exhaled, her shoulders sinking. “Would you? I tried again this morning, and she just ran away. Better if it comes from someone else.”

Karina stood and navigated the minefield of blankets and kicked-off sandals, before stopping at Yuna’s shoulder. The girl was dissecting the label on her soju bottle, peeling the paper back in thin, violent strips.

Karina folded her legs and sat, pressing her shoulder against Yuna’s. The ocean wind whipped sand over their shoes. Yuna stiffened. Her thumbnail locked against a scrap of paper.

“Unnie,” Yuna chirped, pitching her voice high and loud. “What’s up?”

A massive, practiced smile snapped onto her face. It looked like hard work.

Karina let out a slow breath, slumping her shoulders to tip her head sideways and drop her cheek heavy against Yuna’s shoulder. Yuna’s breath hitched at the sudden contact, but Karina just stayed there, pressing in until the muscles holding up Yuna’s fake smile started to shake, twitching at the corners before her whole face dropped.

Yuna’s hands dropped back to the bottle, shredding the remaining label into a pile of green confetti.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to perform for me,” Karina murmured into her sleeve.

Yuna’s jaw clicked shut. She stared at the scraped glass of her bottle, her thumb pinned against the sticky glue residue.

“I’m fine, really,” Yuna said.

Karina leaned sideways, sealing the gap between their arms. Behind them, Giselle shrieked over whatever Yunjin had just claimed. The fire popped, throwing hot sap onto the sand.

Yuna dragged in a hitched, uneven breath. She bit the inside of her cheek until the skin went white. Her spine bowed inward, collapsing her tall frame, and she dropped the glass bottle into the dirt.

“I’m not -” Yuna whispered. “I’m not fine.”

Karina shifted deeper into the sand, letting her arm stay heavy against Yuna’s to block the wind.

“Keep the reason,” Karina said. “Just sit here with me.”

Yuna blinked. Thick, glassy wetness gathered along her lower lashes. She swallowed a hard knot in her throat and snapped her gaze back to the wood smoke.

“Does it get easier?” Yuna asked, the words scraping her throat. “Feeling like you... totally wrecked everything?”

Karina watched the orange sparks spiral upward into the black. “Eventually. Once you admit you’re the one who actually got cut on the glass.”

Yuna took that in with a slow nod. She pulled her knees to her chest, caging her sweatpant-covered shins with both arms, and dropped her forehead onto the soft cotton over her knees. Karina kept her shoulder pressed into Yuna’s arm while the fire burned down. They stayed side by side in the dirt, letting Yunjin’s screaming and the crashing surf handle the noise.

***

“I’ve made a decision,” Chaeryeong announced, dropping Sunwoo’s sleeve and projecting clearly over the crashing surf. “I need an actual s’more. Properly roasted.”

“Seconded!” Ningning agreed immediately from across the fire.

Winter froze, her hand buried deep in the massive canvas snack tote sitting by her knees. Her eyes went round above her puffed cheeks. She peered down into its depths and started digging, both hands tossing a box of Pepero and a stray pack of gummies onto the sand in a frantic scramble.

She stopped. She looked up at Karina, blinking sheepishly.

“Ummm. Unnie -”

Everyone looked over.

Winter pulled a crumpled, completely empty plastic bag out of the tote and held it up by the corner.

“There’s no more marshmallows...”

“How many did she eat?” Giselle asked, already knowing the answer.

“It’s not my fault,” Winter protested, clutching the empty wrapper. “You guys stole all my sour candy the other night!”

“I was helping you,” Giselle said nonchalantly, licking chip dust off her thumb. “You were hoarding. Besides, someone needs to go get more s’mores.”

“And chips,” Ningning added, casually chewing on the last piece she’d snuck from the bag.

Winter shot a cutting side-eye at Giselle across the fire.

Ningning loudly took Winter’s side, arguing that honey butter chips were a cultural imperative, while Chaeryeong betrayed that side at once purely because she wanted her s’mores fantasy to be perfect. Karina got to her feet while the argument was still rising into the night air.

“I’ll go.”

Winter brightened instantly, tugging on the hem of Karina’s dress. “Honey butter chips, unnie. Please. Only the yellow ones.”

Yuna looked up from the sand.

Karina dusted off her shorts and scooped up the empty canvas shopping tote by the straps. “Yuna-ya, come help me carry stuff, will you? We’ll take the golf cart.”

Yuna blinked, startled by the direct order, but nodded quickly and scrambled up. Karina caught her hand mid-step, lacing their fingers together with a firm grip and pulling her forward. Yuna’s shoulders hitched at the sudden contact, her hand staying stiff until she finally forced her knuckles to relax against Karina’s palm.

Ducking her chin into her hoodie, she let herself be towed up the dark beach path toward the road, leaving Yeji watching their retreat until the dunes swallowed them.

***

[YUNA’S POV]

At the top of the dune, the golf cart coughed to life on the second try. Yuna climbed into the passenger seat and tucked her knees up to her chest, the baggy gray sweatpants bunching around her ankles while the narrow road out past the resort ran dark beside the water, the cart’s single working headlight throwing a shaky, pathetic yellow path through the night.

Normally, she lived for this midnight aesthetic. Riding shotgun in the dark with her hair whipping around should’ve given immense main character energy, but tonight her brain refused to enjoy the fun part. The Levitating soundtrack from two days ago when she’d walked down to the beach thinking she was hot shit? Yeah, that was dead. Now it was just the same bruising facts spinning on loop until she wanted to unzip her own skin and climb out, leaving those perfectly manicured nails behind.

“You’ve been quiet all night,” Karina said over the rattle of the engine, keeping her eyes on the road.

“I’m fine,” Yuna shot back on pure instinct, hating how the lie came out coated in that automatic idol-trained gloss she saved for Cosmopolitan. Great, even her denial sounded media-trained. She bit her lip and stared at the dark tangerine trees whipping past while Karina kept driving in silence, giving Yuna way too much time to obsess over the glowing green numbers on the dashboard clock.

Minutes later, the GS25 sliding doors parted in a blast of freezing AC and offensive lighting. Yuna caught her reflection in the door glass and actively flinched. The overhead fluorescents were violently anti-woman, blowing out her features until she just looked exhausted and pore-heavy. The whole store was just dead-silent aisles of ramen and lighting totally optimized to ruin your self-esteem.

Karina stepped through the automatic doors a second later, the entry sensor chiming loudly in the empty store. She caught Yuna rigidly staring at the glass and immediately let her gaze slide past her to the aisles, offering the easiest out possible. “I’ll go hunt down the marshmallows,” Karina quipped, cutting right through the hum of the freezers. She nodded toward the back wall. “You grab the rest.”

They split up, leaving Yuna to speed-walk down the chip aisle, desperate to grab the honey butter chips and make this whole mini-trip strictly about sodium because carbs were safe and junk food didn’t judge you for hooking up with your leader’s terrifyingly competent non-boyfriend. Just a normal midnight snack run. Very casual. SO fine.

Blue Pepsi cans sat stacked in clean rows behind the glass, each label turned forward for the 2024 summer promo - IVE Summer Festa. The same one Yeji had been holding back on the beach. Wonyoung smiled from the aluminum at eye level, glossy and too perfect under the fridge light, her printed face repeating down the shelf until the whole fucking display looked like a fan account with a beverage license.

Yuna stopped with one hand on the door handle.

The dark bedroom came back in phone light and twisted sheets. The article she’d already read twice. The comments scrolling under her thumb while her body lay there refusing to cooperate.

Face and body-wise, she and Jang Wonyoung are the top two.

Her fingers slipped through the gap before she decided to move. She touched the can with Wonyoung’s face on it, one fingertip resting against the printed cheek.

“Nice to look at...” she whispered.

“Yuna-ya,” Karina called from the next aisle. “Did you find it?”

Yuna snatched her hand back so fast the cans clinked together. She grabbed the nearest box of plain crackers off the shelf and hugged it to her oversized hoodie.

The Wonyoung can kept smiling at her from behind the glass. Yuna grabbed two cold cans of maekju from the next row and pinned them against the crackers.

“Yep!” She answered, trying to force some bouncy, maknae-line charm into the suggestion that fell flat against the hum of the freezers. “Found crackers. Very chips-adjacent. Honestly, genius.”

She tracked down Karina leaning one shoulder against the freezer glass with her thumb glowing over her phone screen.

“Wait, what if we just - like - give Minjeong-unnie these?” Yuna asked, holding up the crackers.

It was a photo of Karina at twenty in a sheer purple stage outfit, face rounder but expression blank, that porcelain-doll stare she’d perfected in rehearsal rooms, scrubbing out every trace of the actual human until only the weaponized avatar remained.

Yuna frowned as a weird spike of annoyance hit her. “Jimin-unnie. Who is that?”

Karina’s thumb twitched like she was going to snap the phone against her thigh, but she stopped and left it face-up under the harsh store lights.

“Me. When I was twenty. Black Mamba era, the year I debuted.”

Yuna stared at the screen. “Unnie, you look so...” She couldn’t find the right word. ‘Empty’ didn’t cover the sheer amount of effort it took to look that devoid of life. “...CG.”

“I was trying so hard, you’ve got no idea,” Karina cut in, bereft of her usual smoky polish. “I thought that was everything I wanted... if I could just get that sexy look right, then I’d be happy.”

“Always thought that was the goal, you know? To train my face out of the picture until there was nothing left but the brand. I thought if I just became the perfect blank slate for SM, then people couldn’t hurt the real me.”

Yuna lowered the crackers onto the top of the freezer case, the cardboard hitting the glass with a quiet, hollow tap. Why did Karina look so vacant under all that pretty, and why did that vacancy look so horribly familiar? That was supposed to be the dream version - twenty, pretty, famous, wanted. So why did the girl in the photo look like a completely empty shell?

Karina dragged her thumb across the glass to reveal a waiting room selfie featuring heavily styled hair. “Music Bank. I think I’d been awake forty straight hours at that point. Somebody told me to fix my face right before they took this.”

She swiped again, bringing up a bulletproof smile flashing beneath Seoul streetlights. “Dispatch. Didn’t even know they were following me.” She stared at the phone. “Saw it online the next day and that’s when I realized... my face just does that now. Smiles before I even know someone’s there.”

Yuna stared hard through the glass at the girl in the picture while her own brain traitorously fired off a rapid highlight reel of her own broadcast habits. The chin tilt. The breathy laugh. The hip angle that said hot but not desperate. The pout that tested well with male fans but didn’t alienate female ones. She’d practiced all of it until her face knew the drill better than she did, and suddenly, the daily grind of being the visual felt less like a flex and more like a burden.

Karina locked the phone, shutting down the screen. “You can get very, very good at being what people want.”

Yuna’s posture caved inward, her face flushing so hot that wearing that massive hoodie and sweats suddenly felt like the most honest choice she’d made all week. She swallowed, the movement catching awkwardly in her throat.

“Does it help?” Yuna asked timidly.

Karina laughed once under her breath. “It helps them, until they’ve taken everything they can and you don’t even remember your name anymore.”

The freezer’s hum buzzed loudly in Yuna’s ears as she reached for the crackers again, her fingers hovering over the box before gripping the cardboard and pulling it tight against her ribs.

Up at the front of the store, a NewJeans track trickled through the cheap ceiling speakers. The sad one, of course, because even after two days unhinged idol disaster, the universe never relented with its impeccable sense of comedic timing. It was the one with the girl filming the girls like they were her actual friends, then boom - surprise, bestie - your emotional support idols were a coping mechanism with great styling. Parasocial damage, director’s cut. Yuna knew the lore because nobody survived fourth gen without studying every competitor’s cinematic universe like it was the CSAT. Though, hearing that song over the ramen aisle while she was having a face-and-body crisis in a GS25 felt weirdly personal.

They carried their items up to the counter, dumping marshmallows, cracker boxes, chocolate, and Yuna’s two beers onto the counter. Yuna slapped two Melonas on top because the freezer glass had given her the shakes.

Behind the counter, the cashier kept his eyes glued to his lap. A guy in his late twenties rotting in a rumpled uniform vest, he locked his thousand-yard stare on his phone, mashing his thumbs through some mobile game.

She draped herself over the counter, leaning forward to deploy her best, most desperate variety-show pout to get his attention. “Sir. SIR?? Do you have honey butter chips too?”

Her reflection stared back from the black acrylic security screen bolted to the counter, locking Yuna in place. She’d instinctively snapped into that broadcast-approved pout, rolling her shoulder forward and widening her eyes for a guy who clearly wasn’t giving a shit about her. The cringe hit her muscles before her brain caught up. She abandoned the posture instantly, shrinking her spine down against the counter and yanking her hoodie strings tight to hide her blazing cheeks.

Karina took a step back.

“Honey butter?” he droned, as he blindly dragged the marshmallows across the scanner. “A young lady came in the other night and cleared out the whole shelf.”

“Sold out?” Yuna gripped the edge of the counter, her cute act dissolving into actual horror.

“You heard me.” The cashier hauled his gaze over his phone, squinting at the two of them under the buzzing lights. His eyes passed from Karina’s face to Yuna’s and back again. “Actually, she looked a lot like Winter from aespa. Are you two -”

“Nice of you to think that,” Karina cut him off, flashing a hollow smile. “But no.”

He shrugged, dragging the crackers across the scanner and dropping his eyes right back to his screen. “Whatever. You girls all look the same with the plastic surgery you get on the mainland anyway.”

Yuna dropped her forehead against the edge of the counter, breaking into a messy laugh. A copy-paste job sitting on the same mainland shelf. Karina called it thirty seconds ago and here was the universe proving her right in real time. Yuna slapped a hand over her mouth, her shoulders shaking. If she let the laugh stop, she was going to have to exist in a world where some random GS25 guy reduced her entire life to a joke. Karina’s face softened, the diamond edge melting off and leaving the cashier standing there holding a box of crackers like a malfunctioning NPC.

***

The drive back was slower.

Karina tore open one of the Melonas and passed it to Yuna before unwrapping her own, steering the cart with her knees while she peeled back the paper. The wind dropped to a steady push off the water, rattling the plastic bag between their knees while the cart’s single working headlight threw its sad yellow cone over the asphalt.

Yuna bit into the green ice, neon syrup running down to the corner of her mouth. She didn’t notice until Karina pulled a tissue from her pocket and handed it over while keeping her eyes on the road. Yuna took it and scrubbed at her face, the sticky residue smearing before it came clean.

Karina kept one hand on the wheel. Yuna held the Melona wrapper in her fist, green syrup drying sticky on her thumb, and stared at the dark tangerine groves passing on the left.

The cashier’s voice was still in her ears. You girls all look the same.

Same shelf, same idol face under a fluorescent tube. Yuna wanted to be mad about it. Instead, she kept hearing her own laugh from the store, too loud and too sharp. She’d bully herself for if it ever aired on a variety show.

“Boys are fun, aren’t they?” Karina said, her eyes on the road.

Yuna’s head snapped sideways. Karina kept her eyes on the road, mouth flat, dark hair whipping across her jaw.

“Yeah,” Yuna said, and the answer came out in the bright broadcast tone she’d used on every variety show since debut, breathy and cute with the vocal fry that tested well. She bit the inside of her cheek the second it left her mouth. Great. Even this had a rehearsal room stink on it.

“Fun,” Yuna repeated, quieter, trying to mean it this time. “Like - yeah.”

Karina glanced over. “What fun?”

The pool flashed back. Yeji’s cum still glossy on his cock the second the towel hit the tile, and Yuna’s brain locking onto it like an exclusive drop unnie had been gatekeeping. That’s why she keeps him around. Her personal premium subscription. She’d thought if she could just get him to beg for her instead - if she could make him pick her, even for thirty seconds going feral underwater in the deep end - she’d unlock the cheat code that made Yeji-unnie untouchable. She’d climbed out of that pool confident she’d secured the ultimate flex. But the thing unnie actually had with him didn’t live in his cock or his cum or getting chosen; it was the part Yuna couldn’t just serve face and fuck her way into. The way he held unnie’s face like she was a literal human being and not a 4K fancam. When she’d overheard him telling her “they’re perfect” through the wall after she’d complained about her tits being small.

“People thinking I’m hot,” Yuna finally said. “That’s the fun part. Knowing they want me.”

She’d never said it that plainly before. It sounded worse out loud than it did in her head, which was REALLY saying something because it hadn’t sounded great in her head either.

Karina nodded once, watching the road. “I used to think that too.”

“Used to?”

“Mhm.” Karina shifted the cart around a curve, the headlight sweeping across a low stone wall. “Being wanted was the best feeling I knew. For a long time.”

Yuna turned the sticky Melona wrapper between her fingers, pressing the green residue into thin lines on her skin. “So what happened?”

“I got everything I wanted.” Karina rubbed the back of her neck, her fingers digging under her dark hair. “But they only wanted Karina from the magazines. The girl who skips carbs and finds the right smile for every room.”

Karina let out a short, dry laugh. “Three nights ago. After the BLACKPINK set. Ryujin wanted to run through some Yonsei frat boys she found in the mosh pit. Dragged me along for bait.”

Yuna’s head snapped around, completely forgetting the sticky Melona wrapper. “Wait. FIVE? Unnie. You didn’t.”

“I tried.” Karina slouched forward, bracing her forearm against the steering wheel. “I literally stripped naked on their shitty leather couch, spread my legs wide open so they had a perfect view, and waited. You know what they did?”

Yuna didn’t answer. She couldn’t.

“They fucking gawked.” Karina shook her head, an ugly smile twisting her mouth. “Stood there with their jaws slacked, drooling over my tits like I was a hallucination.”

Yuna swallowed, the sweet taste of the Melona suddenly completely gone.

“I was lying there wet and desperate for someone to just fuck me hard like a normal girl,” Karina said. She steered the cart around a pothole with the heel of her hand. “Which - you know what I mean. We’re young. We’re allowed to just want good sex.”

Yuna nodded once, scraping her sticky thumb against the soft cotton over her knee. She definitely knew what she meant.

“Except half of them busted the second they pushed inside,” Karina snorted. “The rest just used me like a human fleshlight. Hammering away without giving a single shit if I actually got off.” She glanced over, her eyes catching the dashboard light. “They didn’t want me, Yuna-ya. They just wanted to stick their useless dicks in the poster so they could brag about unlocking a trophy.”

The cart rattled over an uneven patch and Yuna grabbed the oh-shit bar, her sweatpants brushing against the plastic bag.

“And the thing is,” Karina continued, “you can give them that forever. Skin, performance, the girl they showed up for. You can keep handing it out, and they’ll keep taking it, and everyone keeps calling it love.”

Yuna’s throat went dry.

“Until one day you want one single thing for yourself,” Karina finished, “and they tell you it’s a betrayal.”

The wind filled the cart. Tangerine groves blurred past. Yuna opened her mouth, then closed it again.

She thought about her own Instagram, the comments she scrolled through at 2 AM calling her the hottest fourth-gen idol alive, the DMs from industry guys opening with compliments about her waist and closing with hotel names, the fancam numbers she tracked like a stock portfolio. She’d treated all of it like proof she mattered. Karina had collected the prize and ended up writing an apology for having a life.

Yuna swallowed.

The question had been poking at her since before Jeju, since the group chat, since the BLACKPINK tickets Ryujin gave to Karina because Karina was still apparently a mess three months after a relationship that lasted five weeks. But also because Yuna was too busy fucking some random guy to return Ryujin’s calls, and later ranted about it to herself on the beach like the entitled brat she was.

“Jimin-unnie. What actually happened with him?” She asked quietly.

Karina didn’t flinch. She kept her eyes on the road and her hand steady on the wheel.

“We met in Milan,” she said carefully. “At the Prada show. He was smart and handsome, and he looked at me like I was real.” She took the cart around a bend in the road. “Rare enough that I thought it meant something.”

“Did it?”

“For about a month.” Karina adjusted her grip on the wheel. “We went on walks late at night near his apartment. He’d buy me iced coffee from the GS25 near his building, and we’d talk about dumb things, like what dramas were good and whether cats or dogs were better. Normal things.”

She went quiet long enough that Yuna thought she was done.

“Then Dispatch got it,” Karina said. “And everything became content.”

Yuna looked down at the Melona wrapper in her fist. Content. The same word she used for her Instagram grid. The same word her manager used when reviewing her fancam numbers.

“They sent a truck to my company,” Karina sighed. “With a billboard on it. Asking if I didn’t feel loved enough by my fans. Asking why I’d betrayed them.”

Yuna’s hand froze on the Melona wrapper.

“I wrote an apology,” Karina continued, her shoulders dipping as the cart rolled over cracked asphalt. “On paper. By hand. Posted it to Instagram. I told fourteen million people I was sorry for having a boyfriend.” She took the next curve. “He told his agency he wanted to focus on his drama. That was it for him. Clean exit.”

He went back to work. She wrote sorry by hand and posted it where everyone could zoom in. Same relationship, same breakup, different cost.

“Five weeks, Yuna-ya,” Karina said. “We were public for five weeks. I apologized for longer than I dated him.”

Yuna remembered her own rant from the beach, the bitter little monologue she’d delivered to her shadow about Karina moping over a guy she’d barely been with and costing Yuna her BLACKPINK tickets. Her toes curled against the cart floor.

“I had every version of what you think you want,” Karina said, her fingers tightening once on the wheel. “The face. The fame. The beautiful man. The feeling of being chosen.” The road bent left and Karina followed it. “And I still couldn’t tell you the last time any of them knew who was actually in the room with them.”

“The sex was easy. They wanted it, I gave it, everyone left happy.” Karina adjusted her grip on the wheel. “Took me a while to realize they weren’t fucking me. They were fucking the girl from the magazine. I was just the one who had to show up for it.”

Yuna sat still with green Melona syrup on her thumb and the plastic bag crinkling against her sweatpants. Karina kept her hand steady on the wheel while the dark road unspooled ahead of them.

She’d thought Karina was weak for hurting that long over something that short. Now the timing made sense. Five weeks of having someone see her, then the industry stole it away with a press release, and Karina was still walking around with the handprint.

The worst part was that Minho had wanted her. Her body made that impossible to deny, which was the whole reason she’d treated it like a win. But even then, between every wet little victory lap her brain had turned into content, his eyes kept cutting back toward the bedroom like Yeji had a hand on him from afar.

“Unnie,” Yuna said, very quietly.

“Mm?”

“I was such a bitch about the BLACKPINK tickets.”

Karina let out one breath through her nose.

“I did wonder why Head Blink wasn’t there,” she said, and one corner of her mouth lifted wryly. “You don’t seem like someone who misses BLACKPINK by accident.”

Yuna pressed her sticky thumb harder into the vinyl seat. Yeah. Funny story. Hilarious, actually. Five stars. No notes. She kept all of that inside her mouth and stared at the headlight shaking over the road.

They drove the rest of the way in the dark, the resort lights growing brighter through the trees. Yuna pressed her sticky thumb against the vinyl seat and watched Karina in the passing headlights of an oncoming car.

Karina looked beautiful, because of course she did. The annoying part was that Yuna could see the dark smudges under her eyes now too, and they made the beautiful harder to lie about.

Yuna thought she might want to learn that too. Eventually. Not tonight. Tonight she just had to carry a bag of marshmallows back to a bonfire and figure out how to fix the thing she broke without cutting herself again.

The resort gate opened. The headlights found the beach path.

“You good?” Karina asked.

Yuna wiped the green syrup off her thumb with the napkin Karina had given her earlier.

“Yeah,” she said. “Better.”

They rolled back into the firelight moments later, the plastic shopping bag resting loudly against Yuna’s sweatpants as she climbed out. Winter spotted the marshmallows from the blankets and let out a high squeal while brandishing a wooden skewer, prompting Ningning to snatch the bag from Yuna with both hands and instantly assign jobs nobody had requested.

Yeji looked up from the fire the second Karina stepped back into the circle, and when their eyes met across the sand, Karina gave a small nod that Yeji reciprocated.

Before Yuna even sat down, Ningning shoved a half-assembled s’more directly into her hand, declaring she looked like she needed chocolate before going straight back to nearly setting another marshmallow actively on fire. Karina lowered herself back onto the sand where Ningning immediately slumped against her shoulder as if she’d never left. Across the roaring fire, Ryujin threw her head back, laughing loudly at something Yunjin had just said while Yuna looked down at the chocolate melting into the cracker in her hand, letting the noise of the beach wash over her.

***

[MINHO’S POV]

By the time the second round of marshmallows got underway, the fire had burned down into that nice, competent middle stage, impressive enough to validate the effort and dangerous enough to keep Ningning interested. Sunwoo and Minjun were on the other side, half committed to a long story about a manager in Osaka who’d somehow locked himself in a hotel bathroom, while I stood behind Yeji with my thumbs pressed into the tight muscles at the base of her neck.

Finding her took no effort anymore.

She had her chin tipped forward, one knee drawn up, both hands wrapped loosely around a Pepsi can while I worked my fingers over her shoulders. Moving firelight caught the sharp edge of her cheekbone and the bridge of her nose, then slid away. Every now and then she’d smile at something Chaeryeong or Lia said, and my fingers stopped against her hoodie until I remembered to move them.

I kept swallowing the same thought over and over.

I almost lost all of this.

Yuna came out of the dark with a cold beer in each hand, and Minjun stopped talking mid-sentence.

She crossed the last stretch of sand with her eyes down, oversized hoodie swallowing her hands, gray sweatpants dragging low over her heels. I thought she was coming to give Yeji the drink until she stepped around Yeji’s shoulder, set both cans carefully in the sand by my foot, wrapped her arms around my middle, and pressed her face into the front of my zip hoodie hard enough for one rough breath to catch against the zipper.

My hands stayed useless in the cold air while everyone watched.

Yeji looked up first, her head turning beneath my arm. Her eyebrows pulled together, confused, then her face softened when Yuna’s fingers clenched in my jacket.

“Yuna-ya?” she asked. “What happened?”

Yuna shook her head once against me and turned her face until her mouth brushed my ear.

“I thought being wanted meant I was worth something,” she whispered. Her fingers tightened once in my jacket. “You saw me anyway. So stop feeling bad for being decent to me. Yeji-unnie chose you, so... don’t make her regret being brave.”

I shut my eyes. For days, I’d been carrying that pool like evidence against myself, replaying it every time I looked at Yeji or Yuna went quiet until my jaw hurt.

Yuna stood there in her huge hoodie, crying into my jacket, and told me to stop.

I lowered one hand to the back of her head, keeping my palm light and my body still, close enough to comfort her and careful enough for Yeji to see exactly what I meant.

“You’re worth plenty.” I said quietly, keeping my hand still against her hair. “You don’t have to prove it like that.”

Her shoulders hitched once, and Yeji was on her feet before anyone else moved. She stepped close, one hand landing on Yuna’s back, her attention narrowing the way it did when one of her members came offstage pale and pretending not to be hurt.

“Yuna.” Yeji’s hand moved once between Yuna’s shoulder blades. “Are you okay? Did something happen?”

Yuna lifted her face from my jacket. Her lashes were wet, cheeks blotchy, nose pink from the wind, and when she tried to smile, her mouth shook out of it.

“I messed up.” Yuna rubbed her sleeve under her nose and looked at the sand between Yeji’s feet. “And Minho-oppa helped me after. That’s all. He was... he was nice to me when I didn’t really deserve nice.”

Yeji looked at me, and I held still until her shoulders dropped. She nodded once, then pulled Yuna out of my arms and straight into hers.

Yuna went with a choked little sound, folding into Yeji so fast my hand was left hanging there. Yeji wrapped both arms around her and tucked her chin against Yuna’s temple, rocking once in the sand.

“You’re our maknae. You always deserve nice,” Yeji murmured, rubbing the back of Yuna’s hoodie with her thumb.

Karina sat near the blankets with her drink held loose between both hands, watching Yuna over the rim. When Yuna finally peeled herself off Yeji and wiped both cheeks with her sleeves, Karina gave her a small nod of approval, and Yuna’s eyes immediately found the ground again.

Yuna’s mouth trembled before she bent, picked up one of the maekju she’d brought, and pressed it into my hand.

“For you.” Yuna cleared her throat, grabbed the other bottle, and shoved it toward Yeji. “And for unnie. Because apparently I’m mature now.”

“Apparently,” Yeji said, taking it.

Minjun waited until Yuna had shuffled back toward the blankets and collapsed between Karina and Ningning before leaning over.

“Did I miss a whole redemption arc?”

I cracked open the maekju Yuna had given me. The hiss cut clean through the fire crackle.

“Yeah,” I said, watching Yeji turn the can once in her hands before she looked back at Yuna. “You really did.”

***

Behind us, Yunjin and Giselle had sought each other out again and were currently deep into their third or fourth argument of the night. Except this one had drastically pivoted to anime. Ryujin had made the fatal mistake of trying to contribute and was already looking for a way out.

“Gojo Satoru is the best character ever written in any medium,” Yunjin announced, projecting her voice over the fire. “I will die on this hill and I’ll look hot doing it.”

“He’s a thirst trap with a backstory.” Giselle tucked her hands deeper into her oversized sleeves.

Yunjin slapped her thigh in outrage. “Okay, a thirst trap can also be a genius! Why does it have to be one or the other with you, it’s exhausting.”

“Shinji Ikari. Better written. It’s not close.”

Yunjin stared at her in pure horror. “I don’t care about better written, I care about iconic. Shinji is iconic at having one breakdown in a robot.”

“That’s still writing.”

“Crying in a giant robot isn’t automatic literature, Aeri.”

Ryujin leaned in between them, committed and doomed. “Okay but Zoro would clap both of these guys, so -”

Both of them turned on her with lethal synchronization.

“How much have you actually seen?” Giselle asked.

Ryujin hesitated, sensing the trap. “Like... the first three arcs?”

Yunjin dramatically clutched her own chest. “That’s the trailer, babe.”

“You haven’t watched One Piece, you waved at it from across the room.” Giselle waved a hand to dismiss her.

Ryujin looked betrayed.

From the main blanket, Winter leaned toward Ningning again, holding her half-burnt marshmallow upright like a tiny ruined microphone. “Are they still bonding?”

“Yep.” Ningning nodded solemnly, critically examining the charcoal side of her marshmallow. “Still bonding.”

***

That was how the rest of the night went. People pairing off, arguing, and drifting back again. Chaeryeong kept stealing bites directly from Sunwoo’s s’more, claiming it was strictly quality control. Lia snapped photos across the fire, timing them for when people stopped posing. Karina laughed with her head bent, one hand over her mouth, while Yunjin switched seamlessly into English to complain. Yeji leaned close to Ryujin for a quick, quiet exchange that ended with Ryujin rolling her eyes dramatically but handing over her drink anyway.

Then Winter’s phone lit up and rang loudly from the sand, and she practically scrambled over Ningning to grab it, knees slipping in the blanket and one socked foot kicking free.

She looked at the screen, her face splitting into an instant grin. “Wait. Wait, everybody. Say hi.”

She answered the FaceTime already smiling, aiming the camera out at the fire.

“HI!” the entire beach circle yelled in unison, hands waving at the lens.

A deep voice rumbled a laugh through the phone speaker. A massive dog shoved its face briefly into the frame underneath a tattooed hand, prompting Winter to shriek in sheer delight and clap both hands over her mouth, trapping the phone between her palms for one dangerous second.

“Unnie.” Ningning rescued the bottom edge before the screen tipped toward the sand.

“Puppy,” Winter whispered back, reverent and useless as an explanation.

Within seconds, she turned the phone right back around to hoard the screen to herself, tucking her chin down and curling around it. Giselle let Winter burrow against her shoulder and lazily patted her hair, keeping her drink steady.

Yeji had drifted back to my side at some point during the call, settling into the sand close enough that her shoulder brushed my knee. I tipped my chin toward Winter, who was curled around the phone whispering at the screen.

“That dog’s huge,” I said.

“Mhm.”

“And that hand had a lot of ink on it.”

Yeji took a slow sip of her maekju. “He’s a sunbae.” She tucked her chin against her knee, the smallest curl at the corner of her mouth. “Friend of ours. He’s good to her.”

“That’s all I get?”

“That’s all anyone gets.” She bumped her shoulder against my thigh gently. “That’s how she keeps it.”

***

The fire started to burn low, the orange flames retreating back into the wood. I pulled the collar of my jacket up against the ocean chill as somebody tossed another thick piece of driftwood into the center. Propped back on one hand in the sand, I just sat and watched everybody find comfortable, tangled shapes around each other to block the wind. aespa had tucked in a little closer together, apparently bracing for their flight out tomorrow. ITZY sprawled across their blankets like they’d owned this beach for a week.

Yunjin had fully abandoned her flannel jacket, sprawling back on her elbows in the sand, and was currently delivering a loud, tipsy state-of-the-union address on the Seoul dating pool.

“I opened Tinder before the plane even got to the gate,” Yunjin announced, waving her phone at the fire. “Mapo-gu is a fucking wasteland. I needed to see if the island roster was carrying.”

“Is it that bad?” Chaeryeong asked, leaning forward over her knees.

“It’s bleak, bro,” Yunjin ranted, letting her head drop back. Her throat caught the firelight. “Do you know what comeback prep does to a bitch? I’ve been doing six hours of choreo a day on iced americanos and spite. I even fully shaved for this trip. Do you know how exhausting that is on two hours of sleep? I’m down so astronomically bad I could walk into the ocean. PLEASE get me a guy who can rail me so hard I forget my own name.”

Ryujin laughed into her beer can. “Girl, just hook up with one of your backup dancers like a normal person.”

“HUH-larious. But nah.” Yunjin slashed a hand through the air. “They get weird. The second you try to choke them with your thighs, they panic about HR. You open your legs for some Gangnam industry fuckboy and half the time he’s trying to network mid-stroke or asking about Spotify streams. I don’t want a fan, I want a menace. I want some dude who can actually fold me like a lawn chair and shut me the fuck up.”

Beside me, Yeji let out a soft snort of agreement, taking a slow sip of her drink.

“I thought a Jeju local might actually have some stamina,” Yunjin sighed, scrolling aggressively with her thumb. “Fishermen. Surfers. Dudes who don’t own a twelve-step skincare routine and can actually rearrange my guts. Give me calluses or give me death.”

"Or crypto bros," Yuna muttered darkly from inside her hoodie.

On the other blanket, Ningning stopped chewing on the end of her wooden skewer. She turned her head, very slowly, and stared dead at Giselle.

Winter caught the look. Her head snapped toward Giselle too, her eyes widening.

Giselle took a maddeningly slow sip of her drink, the ice clinking loudly in the plastic cup. She lowered it, maintaining a completely blank expression as her members zeroed in on her.

Yunjin sat up fast, sensing blood in the water. “Wait, why are you all looking at her?”

Giselle adjusted the heavy blanket over her legs. “I commit vibes.”

“Aeri.” Yunjin started. “AERI. Did you get your back blown out while I was stuck in a recording studio?”

Lia put her phone face down in the sand and crossed her arms. Even Karina went still, attention snapping in.

Giselle picked a piece of lint off her sleeve, looking thoroughly unbothered by the sudden interrogation. “Dude, if it helps your thesis, he wasn’t local. He’s a cinematographer I knew from high school. Lives in Gangnam. So your Seoul facts are off.”

“That’s a full confession,” Yunjin gasped, already way too invested. “Spill. Right now.”

Winter paused mid-chew, looking between them with wide, sincere eyes. "Wait, so how did your networking go, unnie? You never told us."

The fire popped sharply, throwing a sudden burst of bright orange sparks up into the dark space between us.

I looked across it.

Yeji was already watching me. She raised one eyebrow, her chin still propped on her knee, and waited me out. I broke eye contact first, conceding the point, and I caught the corner of her mouth twitching up into a smirk right before I faced the water.

Across the circle, Giselle took one last long drink and finally started.

“So we were at that really hyped samgyupsal place in Seogwipo, right?” she began, channeling that thoroughly pseudo-West Coast energy. “And that place was so smoky I couldn’t see a fucking thing. Anyway, we were meeting this cinematographer guy I knew from high school...”

Intro | Masterlist | Series Index Previous Chapter | Interlude (Chapter 23.5) | Next Chapter ――――――――――――――――――

Author’s Note

I know this chapter is a little heavier than the title suggests, but I hope it was worth the wait. Honestly, this was probably my least favorite chapter to work on - not because it didn’t matter, but because the subject matter is dark and philosophically complex in a way that’s far from the smut and romance I actually enjoy writing most. But alongside “Nobody Like You,” this might be the most emotionally deep chapter in the series. This story wouldn’t be complete without it, and I think it stands on its own.

If you’ve made it this far into the series, there’s a good chance you’re not just here for the smut anymore. One of the unintended consequences of using bodies to tell emotional truth is that you inevitably hit the philosophical questions underneath - specifically, what it actually costs to live in that body professionally.

I wanted to explore that parasocial damage in a way that felt real and personal. Karina’s history was the best way to close off Yuna’s arc, because Yuna had to learn that being desired as a product isn’t the same thing as being seen as a person.

This chapter is heavily based on the themes from NewJeans’ “Ditto,” which, deep down, is about how parasocial love is a one-way mirror. The idol performs and gives so much of themselves, but gets nothing real back. The fan loves and supports unconditionally, but never actually connects with the person, and both end up alone.

It’s also why Karina’s line about forgetting your name is a direct nod to Spirited Away. Just like Yubaba steals Chihiro’s real name to bind her to the bathhouse, the idol industry demands the human (“Jimin”) give up her identity to the persona (“Karina”). They exist just to serve the masses, trapped in the performance until they forget who they really are.

Rather than leaving you with another long-ass note this time, I’ll assign some homework. I think this video is a really interesting deep dive on the MV that thematically inspired this chapter and the core of Yuna and Karina’s arcs. I’d love to hear your thoughts!

What she became for Sullyoon was comfort, laughter and a guiding hand. What she is now is, well, we’ll get to that.

It’s the hope that really did it. From the first day they met, crossing paths outside a practice room, where Sullyoon bent the full ninety to be met by Sana’s little dip of her head, partnered with her bright smile and greeting, that had her heartstrings tangled. They spoke in brief, barely an introduction, but it was enough.

Then they had her sit in, and Sullyoon danced until her feet grew sore, and Sana grinned and gave her a thumbs up, and in those brief moments, Sullyoon could never regret her career choice. When it was over, somewhere between Sana's muted appreciation and Sullyoon's gushing gratitude, Sana made an offer. Practice together, the two of them.

Sullyoon agreed, of course. She agreed to everything.

The warnings, the advice, the rumours. So what if a younger girl liked an older girl? So what if Sana was her senior? Sullyoon was - is - windswept.

So when the idea of coffee before practice came at Sana's suggestion, Sullyoon was up an hour earlier than usual. She had her hair in rollers, and she sat at her vanity. She tapped the brush across her skin and dotted the concealer. She took her time with everything. From curling her eyelashes to applying her lipstick, it was wholly methodical. She wanted to look good, but that was a given. It was more than that; she wanted to look like Sana's type.

She picked a simple outfit, skin-tight jeans, a cropped camisole and a light cardigan. It wasn’t the first choice, nor was it the second. In fact, it was around the fourth swap that Sullyoon looked at herself in the mirror and began to judge the woman staring back. It’s coffee. Just little beans ground down and brewed into a drink to start the day before practice. Practice that would inevitably require a change of clothes anyway, so why did this matter so much? 

Sana - that’s why.

The coffee date (could Sullyoon call it that?) passed by all too quickly, but it opened the metaphorical door. No longer did they only talk about dancing and comebacks and vocal tones and aegyo and… - yeah, you get the picture - but they talked about each other. Favourite snacks, drinks, and places to visit. Sana would appease everything Sullyoon threw out.

That park that Sullyoon loved to visit? They met there the following Monday and walked around for a little while.

The movie that Sullyoon loved? Well, Sana didn’t watch it, but she read the reviews and pretended that she had.

The games that Sullyoon loved to play? Sana bought a switch. Yep, a switch, just to play with Sullyoon.

And look, Sana had absolutely no idea what she was doing. She followed Sullyoon around - once she finally understood the controls - and did everything she said she should do. By the end of the first day, Sana had a hole in the ground, and Sullyoon had a house. They didn’t get a lot of time outside of schedules, but they would play when they could. Sana’s hole in the ground got a little bit nicer as Sullyoon decorated it and built around it to keep it safe.

In the lamp-light-clashing-moonlight glow of her room, Sullyoon pondered it all. Sana took her where she wanted to go, bought her the things she wanted to own, read her favourite books and watched her favourite movies. Sana bought a switch just for her. All these gestures paled in comparison to the little things she noticed.

Like how Sana would accidentally brush her hand and then smile as if nothing happened, how she would make these little jokes that share just a little bit too much detail about her sex life, and how she would constantly invite Sullyoon over to spend the night.

Empty pizza boxes accompanied empty bottles. Flirty jokes accompanied Sullyoon falling head-over-heels. She was falling - faster and harder than anything had ever fallen. Barrelling towards a reality that had begun to form in her head, Sullyoon pictured the future. It would be tough, keeping the secret, but they could do it, Sullyoon was sure. 

Sana had experience; Sullyoon would come to learn. Her relationships with her many friends in the industry, from Momo to Miyeon and everyone in between. Not that Sullyoon was jealous, no, not openly. That only reared its head on those nights alone in her room, pondering possibilities.

Then came the day everything changed. The casual-flirty jokes became not-so-casual-flirty jokes, and all of Sullyoon’s favourite things became tools of the evening. Her favourite snacks, drinks, movies, everything - all at once. The longing looks became long looks. Sana flicked a switch, and Sullyoon crumbled. Putty in her hands.

They slept together that night. Sana had all these things she liked to do, and Sullyoon had a body she wanted to do them all too. The kisses never seemed to end, from chaste to an outright dissolution of decorum. The touches trailed to the ends of Sullyoon’s world - all this caressing and grabbing and tugging and fuck -

Yeah, it was perfect. Sullyoon wept after it all. An emotional cooking pot boiled over in the post-coital serenity - in Sana’s arms. She confessed it all to her in that raw state: how she fell in love with her before she ever even met her. How the feelings only became cemented upon seeing that smile in real life, and how every single domino that fell following that had led her to this precipice.

And on that precipice, she stood. She stood still for a long time. 

Sullyoon would load up her Minecraft world from time to time, build a little more around that hole, waiting for her to come back. She drank more coffee, wandered around the parks, and practised harder than ever before. Sana would show up again and invite her over. Food. Drinks. Great sex. Precipice. Waiting. Hope.

Sana’s phone would flash with Miyeon’s picture, or someone else’s, all the time. Things would go quiet. No dates. No movies. No feelings. Then she would return to do it all over again.

For Sana, it is a loop, and for Sullyoon, it is a spiral. 

jangkyukyu at 16:51 - “please come over, daddy”

jangkyukyu at 16:51 - “i have a surprise for you ;)”

Just with her messages alone, rekindles something familiar within you, and it’s just going to go downhill from there.

Kyujin knows her grip onto you every damn time she messages you something inviting or suggestive like this—you’re fathomably predictable, and she knows that you can’t resist her no matter what you do.

You love her too much and the feelings are mutual, but whatever she’s hinting at is something you’re always excited about, as the anticipation clearly gets ahead of you.

But right now, you're here, and you clearly don’t need to anticipate anymore, because that headspace was minutes and minutes ago.

It’s also the fact that you can sense her in front of you, head into the game as you could just imagine what she has in store for you, and what she looks like outside your frustrating blindfold.

The hindrance falls short and results in a halt, as her faint voice calls you.

“Take it off now, daddy.” So you did, and you’re flabbergasted.

The sight alone is immaculate, the epitome of perfection as Kyujin was at the top of the game—your eyes immediately land towards her figure, and oh it’s so sinful down to every inch.

She flaunts her full body in display for you and god, that tent in your boxers is aching to be released.

You sit back and gawk over every inch and every element is just right: those cat-ears headbands firmly tucked behind her hair, the white lingerie over her that perfect accentuates her slender figure (not to mention the straps over her midriff too, diabolically hot), those white stockings that just fits perfectly on her thighs, bright-colored stiletto heels, that cat-tail buttplug that she’s been dying to wear ever since she mentioned it weeks ago and the best part of the shot, that damn collar her neck that’s pretty slim to be called as one.

Genuinely, this is the most seductive and the hottest sight your eyes have laid upon and you’re savoring every second, incredibly in awe of how perfect Kyujin could be.

“I guess you love it, daddy—been looking at me for some while now.”

“Yes I fucking do, Kyujin.” You keep yourself seated, as Kyujin walks closer to you, getting herself comfortable for the position she will do.

“You do, daddy?”

“Yes, god—you’re actually the prettiest girl on this planet I swear.” Your words make Kyujin blush, a smile curling up your face as you support her legs once she straddles you, and at your end, you need her so much that you’re ultimately and instinctively greedy, hands roaming around where her weakness is.

“Did this for you—need to kiss you now, daddy.”

She doesn’t need to ask because you’re ahead and she’s clearly insatiable enough for you to advance towards the unthinkable. You pull Kyujin into a deep kiss, not that passionate and sloppy as you immediately find your lips pecking the pristine skin of her neck, suckling on it as your hands roam around her soft, scrumptious ass which makes her moan softly, wanton-filled.

“Daddy…” She averts her attention towards the growing tent between your thighs, her hands skating around your clothed chest as she unbuttons your top precisely. “Kiss me more—want to feel how great you kiss me.”

“Yeah, don’t worry, Kyujin.” You’re grasping her ass with a firm grip as you continue your worshipping advances, peppering her shoulders then her lips with pecks that show how much you yearn for her. “I’ll probably kiss you until my lips go numb.”

And you just continue to do what you’re best at, and Kyujin’s that good girl, taking everything incredibly well.

Her hands continue her advances towards your chest as she moans out your name whenever you kiss the vicinity of her neck, and it’s such a cute sight to see such a sinful Kyujin be reduced into a whimpering, adorable mess under your control. She’s so small that you could probably carry her right now and pin her against the bed to continue what’s clouding your mind but no, you really want to appreciate every inch of hers and your lips are fulfilling that wish.

“God, daddy.” Her lips are quivering, eliciting dying moans of need as your lips finds her porcelain skin repeatedly, suckling onto the succulence as you can feel the familiar wetness seeping onto her crotch (it doesn’t help that her lingerie is brightly-colored that you can already see how wet she is becoming). “I n-need something from you—ohh…”

That piques your interest, all ears on what Kyujin might propose to you. “Go ahead, Kyujin—we have all day here.”

“Need to f-feel you badly, daddy. Need it so bad…” You know what she’s referring to as the growing tent in your pants grows harder, and you’re dying to just take it off and fuck her into incoherence but you play along, wanting her to learn patience despite your growing insatiability to her.

“Need what, specifically, hm? Speak up, darling.” Kyujin whines as she keeps grinding onto you, and it’s euphoric on how great her hips move against you. You support her straddling figure with her hands on her plump cheeks still, feeling her tiny frame be a mere weight against you as you marvel with her growing need, evident with those glistening eyes of lust from hers.

“Daddy—need your cock badly. I need to t-taste it, please—fuck…” Her pleading continuously like this is just your hidden guilty pleasure, and her bane. But ultimately, you want to test the waters down below before diving in, and you have specific thoughts in your mind that need execution.

“I would want that, darling, but—” There’s that pronoun she hates to hear, a condition she’ll be fulfilling for you because she’s always that good girl for you, and you love that from her. “—I need to do something for you first.”

Kyujin raises an eyebrow, anticipating what you may do as she keeps her eyes in contact with yours. “What is it, da—oh! Oh my fucking god, daddy.”

Her eloquence is short-lived when your fingers roam around her dripping cunt, evidently wet against the beautiful fabric of her panties.

She chokes, cries for you but the constant dexterity sends her into submission, as she’s enervated to move anywhere but her hips.

“Kyujin.” You remind her, prompting her to something she would always comply with. “Stay steady and let me finger your cunt.”

She smiles right after, all ears for you as she relaxes herself, putting her hands on your shoulders and listening to whatever you command her. She eases up her body as she takes your fingers inside her constricting cunt, moaning wantonly as you assess the state she’s in right now, and she’s giving in slowly and you can sense.

“God, darling—how are you this fucking wet already? It’s just my fingers, oh my god.” You marvel with the unfathomable drench below her tight tummy, her slit leaking on your fingers as you keep thrusting in her, pushing her onto the edge and even flicking her clit as the cherry on top. “You really yearn for my cock, do you?”

The fabric is a mere distraction on your fingers, not when it’s set aside to the point where it almost tears it all up and you can’t just hide the fact that you want her badly, that you’re testing her limits and what she can take all thanks to you.

Also, your questions towards Kyujin is a no-brainer, as she’s as straightforward as she can get.

“I need it, daddy.” Her head hangs inches away from your face, as you kiss her earlobe just to amplify the gratification she’s feeling. “More than anything, please…”

That plea of hers makes you twitch on your trousers and god, she is definitely testing you and inviting you to just give her what she wants.

But then, good girls obey orders, and she ultimately is one.

“Darling, I need you to do something for me first.” You’re finger repetitively fingerfucking her to the fullest, feeling rivulets drenching your digits as she stares at you with carnal need, anticipating what you may say.

“Daddy—fuck, w-what is it?”

You’re pace is rapid and you know how sensitive and close she is, and you know she can’t hold it anymore. “Cum for me, my precious kitty—cum for daddy.”

She doesn’t flinch, nor a single respite as she undergoes her own elation—it was quick from her but you didn’t care, you need to make her feel special in every second you serve her.

But right now, you’re too frustrated to do that because of the growing monster beneath your pants (rawr: in your headspace).

You know how this goes and Kyujin’s bright mind, still a little clouded with her orgasm, knows what to do, so she gets off her position and gets on her knees.

God, she looks great when she’s vulnerable and submissive like this.

“Fuck—you’re good at that, darling.” She really is, as she’s that one-in-a-million girl whose talent you’ll appreciate and never let go. Her hands unbuckle the strap and so are the other garments, undressed swiftly and with precision.

It’s just the last bit of defense against her grand prize, and her profound movements give you a gist on what she’s up to—she’s teasing you near your boiling point, and she’s fiddling onto that limit of yours.

You fucking need to feel her mouth now and she can sense it with the way you’re refusing to look at her, feeling the pleasure even without her hands onto the main event yet.

Thankfully, the frustrating restraints are off and god, she looks splendid with a cock near her mouth—genuinely pornographic yet encapsulated with such beauty no one can ever match.

“Fucking hell, Kyujin.” You whisper and she already knows your weak spots and that’s lethal enough for you to handle. You love the thrill and the will to combat the pleasure with your own semblance of control, even if it’s crumbling down to submission or in its all-time strength, you will find authority.

You’re determined to be one because Kyujin wants that, and you’re not disappointing her.

But seriously, it’s only been at least fifteen seconds of her mouth meeting your tip and you’re practically shaking in pleasure.

You still feign your authority, even though the  defenses in you slowly crumble.

“Am I doing good, daddy?” You know Kyujin is just asking that to seek validation, intents in the likes of rhetoricism.

But you have tricks in your sleeve to paint that certain expression of hers that you like her to tease with.

“No.” She frowns, continuously licking your slit with profound fervor, knowing that your words are genuine.

“Oh—what did I do wro—”

“You’re doing fucking spectacular right now, dear—keep going for me.” The sudden shift makes her smile as you chuckle a little, but not before eliciting a moan as her lips envelop your sensitive tip.

The sight is pretty adorable to say the least—disregarding the beauty of her face being disheveled due to her own hunger on your cock, her pouting in disbelief paints a smile on your face as you always love teasing her, even in moments like this.

But Kyujin doesn’t stop, not when she’s depraved for such a wonderful mast that she’s savoring every inch and second she invests towards you. She just appreciates every inch, kissing on it as she tells you how thankful she is for this opportunity and you’re just there, smiling like an idiot and caressing her hair leisurely.

“I’d never get tired worshipping your cock, daddy.” A peck on your base comes right after as she dives into the action, divulging how much she needed you.

Talent remains evident, her tongue dancing around your length as she takes you halfway, lips enveloping with a tight suction. Her hands roam on your thighs as you relax and let yourself loose for her, savoring the pleasure as you’re enamored with the beauty of filth.

The plastered drool around your cock when she pulls out is just diabolical, her expressions enough to make you twitch as her hand now grasps your base as she sucks on you like a lollipop.

“Getting ahead of ourselves right now, hm, dear?”

Kyujin paints a puzzle face, possibly hesitant to assume what she had in mind knowing your past ambiguity. “What do you mean, daddy?”

“Why the cat ears? Wanting to try something special?” You grunt slightly right after, utterly interested in what sparked her mind to try such an inviting fit.

“I always thought you loved the idea of me dressed as a pet.” She slobbers continuously over your length, sheathed with her drool as her tongue dances over your tip while she talks with her mouth full of cock. “So—mmfh—I rwlly—really wanted to dress like daddy’s slutty, obedient catgirl.”

Now that you’re enlightened, you can’t help but flash that grin because of her efforts and she ultimately knows your Achilles’ heel—with such a seductive vision coming into life, you can't help but rank this up on the greats.

Kyujin is just relentless right now, proving her talent and your time truly treasuring its worth, as she doesn’t keep anything idle. Whenever she pulls out to appreciate your balls and play with them, she continues pumping you with a pace tolerable, then when she sucks you off, her hands fondling those valuable reservoirs of yours gently.

Also, the sight of her figure just staying there, her head bobbing moderately with those cat ears on her head being the cherry on top is just truly insane, a view to savor for eons to come.

“God—what the fuck, Kyuj—holy shit, darling—you’re doing so good for daddy.” The praise strokes her gently, and those are just fuel as she keeps the pleasure in an all-time high, and you’re inching closer to that elated state.

But you have other plans for her, and it’ll be messier than this. 

Sure, you want your load into her mouth, deposited right to her stomach or to paint that pretty face of hers, you just can’t hide the fact that you truly need to fuck her right now, and you’re not sugarcoating anything anymore.

“Kyuj—dear, rise up.” This earns a pout from the disheveled girl, her bright mind sensing that you wanted to do something and not the fact that she didn’t do great—you’ll just be incredibly stupid to think she didn’t excel here.

“I guess daddy wants to fuck her slutty pet…”

“I fucking do.” You get yourself out of the chair, prompting her to do something as you’re incredibly yearning to feel Kyujin. “Now, will you get all on fours on the bed, please, dear?”

She obliges and god, her outfit compliment her legs and her ass in this lingerie is such a hot sight that you just can’t help but gawk over it—her arching her back a little when she’s in position and wiggling her backside is just the final straw, and you need to do something right now.

You just can’t deal with your clothing being dressed onto yours anymore, peeling it off yourself as quickly as you can while savoring the obscene angle Kyujin has mounted herself onto.

“Please, daddy.” She looks behind her shoulder, flaunting her ass up as she caresses the soft mattress, waiting for what you will do to her. “I’ve been great—please treat your kitten like something you always wanted to do.”

Her way of words never disappoints, and you love the absolute madness and filthiness of each dropped syllable. Your cock is throbbing relentlessly, furiously wanting her bad with the scene presented in front of you—such an immaculate figure clothed so sinfully, ass up for you and such a fluffy tail is the cherry on top.

You mount near her, your hands finding the softness of her ass as you grip on it, and then teased your leaking cock over her clothed crotch.

“May I?” You ask Kyujin, repeatedly whining as you hint your tip over her drenched cunt over the fabric.

She just nods looking back, then gets herself ready for what’s about to take place.

Like a good girl.

The panties are practically drenched beyond saving, pulling it down and towards her knees, and god, the sight is downright depraved, utterly vitiated all thanks to you—the hint of that gray metal of her plug connected that fluffy tail just hints the contradiction, and it’s all too well.

You swipe your digits over her drenched lips as you earn a whine coming out of her lips. She knows that you can’t take it anymore, getting rid of the foreplay or anything in the like, but just go and do what she wants you to do.

Kyujin senses it, and your tip meeting the heat of her cunt was the last fucking straw.

She keens when you plunge the tip onto her overwhelming snugness, earning moans of approval and need out of her lips. The repeated calls of your name was just eargasmic as she forms fists onto the sheets, bracing every inch of you invading the walls of her tight pussy.

“Fucking tight, as always—shit.”

“Daddy, please—” Kyujin pleads to you as you elicit more ragged breaths, ensuing a turtle’s pace over her cunt for now as you make herself accustomed to your length for the time being. “—please f-fuck me real good.”

Whenever she feels submissive and utterly helpless, she begs and that’s music to your ears. With just a constant pace onto her pussy, you can’t help but marvel at how great her ass ripples every time, spanking the flesh harshly as the pain stings and is elicited.

“Ow! Oh my fucking god—daddy, please…” You’re just orchestrating a gradual pace right now, exponentially getting faster as the moans that form are more carnal, making you throb more.

Yet with this state of elation and pure flow of steady rhythm, you can’t help but think that something is missing, and it’s something she likes too.

“Wait—wha—what a-are you doing, daddy?” Kyujin whines, feeling herself being edged and empty as you do the unthinkable. “Why’d you pull out?”

You don’t want to, but you have a better idea that will enlighten her fully, because she never sees this coming.

Those fluffy, circular culprits stem the urge for you to go further with the kinks, and with such control that she wants, you know she’ll lose her shit.

“Wait—oh, daddy… You’re so naughty for your kitten…”

“Really am.” You’re no stranger in these cuffs, having done this before with her as you tease your tip onto her waiting lips, making her squirm. “Now, your hands behind your back please.”

Now with such vulnerability, she can’t help but voice out how she wants you to control her, dictate how she feels in the long run and how bad you want her.

“Gosh, daddy—really love cuffing your lovely slut, hm? Please fuck me up, daddy!”  You will, and you’re not wasting any second because as soon as the cuffs clicked and locked in place, you inserted your length in her once again.

With Kyujin’s flexibility and strength still evident on her thighs, she lifts herself up enough to keep herself steady, a great angle for such diabolical pistoning at your end.

The chains of her collar rests onto her back, meeting the fluffy ends of her tail as you grasp it, making sure that you’re utilizing what you’re able to grasp and see. She yelps every time you bury your cock deep inside her velvety walls, seeing the repeated constrictions of her puckered hole around the metallic bud as the cherry on top which you ultimately love. Her moans restrict whenever you pull the leash, and she just laughs it out and moans how great your roughness is currently, and her words are just fuel to the fire at this point.

“Fu—uck—oh, shit—daddy! Fucking u-use me!”

“That’s my good fucking kitten.” You keep your firm grip on the handle, your other hand grasping her right hip as you pound her right, pace now relentless now with the constant urges she had morphed yourself into.

You’re now pounding her into total incoherence, and this is only the beginning.

But then, she remains sturdy and able to elicit those beautiful moans out of her mouth, legs squatting for you to be taken with your entirety, and that filthy mouth of hers.

“Dadd—y—oh fuck, I like it when y-you choke me—holy shit…”

“I know you do, kitten.” You grit your teeth as you exaggerate your thrusts, giving her what she deserves and facing her the fact of her sluttiness and yearning for you and your treasured dick. “Fuck, you’re getting tighter—guess you want me to call you that, huh?”

Guess you found the right name, and she’s borderline crying because of the pleasure and how badly she wants to be called as that.

“Yes, d-daddy.” She winces and hisses when you spank her, wrists flailing as the pleasure gets her going, uttering words as she’s still thankfully coherent. “Fucking l-love it when you—fuck, call me a kitten.”

That’s the groove, and you’re dancing with the devil.

Your hips oscillate at a ruthless pace, Kyujin’s moans and the repeated clashing of bodies are orchestrated to bless your ears, not to mention the squelching of her cunt due to the juices that’s seeping out of her tightness. Her thighs shiver, lips quivering to the roughness that’s being brought to her, and with no semblance of control, she can just take you all, like the good kitten that she is.

“Look at you already creaming on my cock.” She doesn’t give a compliment or the opposite, but it wouldn’t matter because she’s just taking you so well all that you can mouth is how great she possibly feels and the walls of her pussy. “Such a good, genuine slut for me, kitten.”

“Fuck! I am—I a-am your g-good kitten—oh god!” The reciprocation is audible, and it’s a rhythm in your ears you’ll always treasure. Her head yanks up every time you pull the leash towards you, and that earns that wicked smirk on your face, satisfied on the right roughness you’re bestowing her.

Surprisingly, the headband still clings for dear life onto her silken hair, tucked firmly behind her ear despite the onslaught of rough thrusts she’s taking. The sigh alone is worth a marvel, a blessing to savor as every detail is just beautiful up to the miniscule.

How could you not? Not when her back tenses with your actions, her pussy squelching as her nectar drips over the sheets, her thighs rippling and trembling due to you, her lingerie a perfect fit on her slender body, her hips and her ass hinting a rosy hue, the collar fitting perfectly around her neck, those cat ears a balance to such debauched sight and that tail of hers that’s a mere distraction as you’re fucking her with all your might, adding up the scenic beauty of her.

This is a sight to die for, and you’re absolutely living in it.

“Da—daddy, fuck—can’t t-take it anymore…” It’s bound to happen, as you let go of the leash and leaned over her, fucking her deeper and letting yoir voice tickle her ear.

“Then go, kitten.” You snarl as you keep the pace going, not giving her a millisecond to recover. “Cum on this cock.”

She does immediately, and it’s an utter mess all throughout.

There’s no respite, fucking her through her orgasm as she chants your name like a ritual, summoning the devil in you to totally wreck her in half.

You gradually slow down, not wanting her to pass out due to sheer overstimulation but still buried inside her, your hands supporting her shivering body that’s precarious due to the elation knocking down her walls.

“Good fucking kitten.” You hiss on Kyujin’s ear, earning a gulp from her and that beautiful smile from her lips as your praise is the cause. 

You’re just buried inside her, immobile as she whines with the girth invading her walls thoroughly. Of course, girls like her at this moment crave for something special, like a reward they deserve as soon as the second of such filthy sex commences.

Those lips part, and she’s vocal with what she wants.

“Isn’t daddy close? You must be so close, daddy~” Kyujin’s tone laces need, the utter epitome of yearning for your cum for so long and her inviting voice alone makes you throb repeatedly.

You inevitably start your hips again and this time, you’re not holding back. Your hand ultimately grasps her hips with a grip that borderline leaves a bruise because of how you’re grappling it. The other isn’t so idle either, and even the best contributor to the mess Kyujin’s brain is currently experiencing as you pump her asshole with the tail plug that’s been keeping her tightest hole gaped.

Kyujin whimpers against you, having that modicum of patience left as you keep her holes filled and busy, all thanks to you. 

If Kyujin can see your face contorting to the sheer pleasure her pussy brings, the candor is evident—you’re fucking close and not playing around anymore because she always love hearing how near you always are.

You’re not lasting a minute in her snugness.

“Gonna fucking cum, kitten—right to this tight, little pussy of yours.” She can’t control herself anymore and with your words, she’s a whimpering mess. You keep yourself steady, fucking her ultimately until she speaks volumes are you’re losing it.

“Please cum, daddy—” Kyujin is pleading, a pathetic tone just to earn what she deserves right up her womb. “—I c-can’t—please cum inside m-me, daddy!”

You enter the promised land, sinking deeper as you submerge into that euphoric state, depositing everything as you keep yourself sinked in her.

It goes straight towards where it belongs, filling her up to the brim as you squirm from the multiple spurts you filled her.

Hell, maybe you’ve possibly fucked a baby into her and you’d never know—the thrill is fun, but she possibly has planned this ahead.

“Fuck—that was—oh shit, you f-filled me up, daddy…” She rests her head against the mattress, her body relaxing over its comfort as she keeps her arch evident, ass up for you to marvel and drool on.

You eventually pulled out and fuck, you’re still throbbing seeing that freshly-fucked cunt dripping with your treasured cum, and you know what to do after this.

“You’ve been so great, kitten.” The immediate swipe of your digits gets her keening, lifting her head just for you to hear her moans as you scoop samples. "Here's a reward for you. Don’t waste it.”

“Yes, daddy.” She just takes it, no questions asked.

Kyujin fervorly sucks your digits sheathed with your semen, tongue swirling over it as she hums due to the satisfaction, a delectable treat tasted after such deprivation.

“Such a good kitten, huh?” She nods, as you uncuff her wrists and let her body rest against the mattress after such a rough session. 

“You know that I’m still not done with you, right, kitten?” You yearn for her answer, towering over her exasperated frame as she recovers as fast as possible.

“Yes, daddy—you promised me that you will leave a load somewhere…”

That raises your eyebrows, interest piqued as you vaguely remember what the promise was but it’s surely as filthy as this. “Really? Enlighten me then..”

“You promised to leave a load on or in me after breeding me before—didn’t put some effort into wearing this without something in return…” There’s this hint of entitlement here, and as much as you want to put her in her place and remind her of something, her proposition is too inviting.

First of all, you did promise her that: going in lengths just to fulfill what she needs and even over your limits. 

But what’s genuinely surprising is her fit for you to swoon and drool all over, and that’s why you adore the element of surprise.

“Right, and I dearly appreciate this, kitten, so do what you need to do.” She’s too delectable to let yourself be hindered from such a filthy round with her, and with her on all fours yet again and that beautiful face inviting you to do what you’re best at, you can’t simply resist. 

Kyujin wiggles her ass as an invitation, as the sight of your load dripping between her thighs just releases those animalistic urges in you to go ballistic over her but you remain composed for an ephemeral amount of time. You work on her tail, teasing the metallic culprit down below as you thrust the metal criminally slow, and she’s already quivering.

“Daddy’s such a tease…” She moans out the pleasure right after, swiping your finger over her leaking cunt as you keep herself accustomed to what will invade her tightness soon, and the already-lubed plug aids her and introduces her to such wonders.

“It’s important, kitten.” Your circle the pivot of where the fur and the metal meets, earning those sultry cries from her mouth as you lean forward, inches away from ear as you whisper, “And you love whenever I tease you like this.”

Even if she denies it, her body says otherwise. She loves being taken care of and showing her what it feels like without overstimulating her so suddenly.

Because after all, she’s the best girl you’ve ever met and the best kitten when in bed.

Gonna make her purr—

“There you go.” You push the plug further, making her writhe with the feeling, succumbing to the euphoria it brings as your other hand dances around the lips of her filled pussy. “Keep moaning for me, kitten—such a good fucking girl, you are.”

Your words make her sensibly yearn for your cock once again, and with your constant teases and that longing control fading away as she gets too bearable to just stuck her with this for more minutes, you can’t take it anymore and neither does she.

As you command her to ease her anal muscles up, you prepare to pull out the plug as she voices something similar to your interest. “Daddy, do you remember the stuff you say whenever we do anal sex?”

You quite have the grip of that and yet again, you’re unsure but this time, you’re sincere since there’s a lot of things you could’ve said before. “What is it, kitten?”

Kyujin looks back, not with that smirk on her face as she states the obvious. “That you always wanna paint my face after fucking my ass or something in the like… y’know how bad that turns me on, daddy.”

Maybe she made that up, or it’s true based on the four times you’ve had this similar situation (not including this one), but you didn’t care to think much with your brain, but with such an irresistible sight in front of you, your cock does the thinking.

“If that’s what you want.” You eye her gaping hole, reach for the lube that’s near the drawer behind you and lathered a copious amount on your length before doing such a feverish act. “Behave well for me and I’ll paint your pretty face, kitten.”

Even with the dim, fluorescent lights emanating over the both of you, you can see the glint on her eyes once you said that. Thank the heavens above for such an amazing build from Kyujin, as the architecture of her legs stays sturdy, on all fours as you mouth yourself ready to plunge it in slowly and when you do, she buries her head onto the mattress, knees buckling.

“Fucking hell—still grips tight as fuck.” The grunts that follow right after are inevitable, as you push yourself deeper into Kyujin’s snug walls and her wanting more.

“God—fuck, daddy—” Her breaths are ragged, almost crying as the tightness overwhelms her but she still helps you out, and even with the help of the plug, she’s still as tight as a vacuum. “—push it in, I c-can take it…”

That’s the green light and you slowly invade the entirety of her ass, and it’s unreal how it truly feels around your pulsing length. You leisurely make Kyujin take it, let her be accustomed to your entire length as she eases her muscles for comfort, and everything is just going well as it should be.

“Daddy’s gonna split m-me open—oh fuck, daddy, it’s so big in my ass—god!” 

“Take it easy, kitten.” You stroke her hair to reassure her, as you resume snapping your hips to her liking. “Gotta start slow, okay?”

So you did, a snail’s pace in her ass as she savors every second of your invasion and the ruined sight in front of you is just carnal fuel. She still maintains that cat-like facade for you, willing to be into the play and letting you experience her capabilities right off the bat.

All throughout the half an hour of such filth, she’s doing so well and the genuine fruition with her, and you can’t ask for anything more. You’ll never get tired of peppering her with kisses, back tensing as you move your length ever-so-slightly, and those endless stream of compliments that always makes her feel special and that familiar rosy hue hinting on her cheeks. As time runs, you impale her slowly and move even more, and she’s whining, clearly whining for more which is evident with the tone of her voice. 

God, you can just imagine how pretty and inviting her face must be diving into such a plethora of pleasure.

“I c-can take more, daddy—” Kyujin enlightens you with a green light, and with her assurance, you aren’t a stranger to how these things go. “—do it—fuck me like h-how you always wanted it!”

The demand laced in her voice says a lot, even though it’s slightly muffled as you begin moving with such confidence, a moderate pace enough for the both of you to feel elevated.

Her gaping hole craves for you, as it feels like a magnet whenever you thrust into her, onto the limit as suction is the pleasurable it has ever been, and it’s always fucking up with your brain’s chemistry—it’s a poison you’re addicted to, and it’s mutual with hers. The sensations are far too good to be true, especially when your balls slap against her wet lips and her hole constricts tighter with the feeling of such mere contact onto her sensitive cunt. Your persistent throbs against her tight asshole sends a message, and she likes how she always makes you feel the utmost euphoria, and your seeping animalistic urges slowly going down onto that filthy route. You grasp onto her hips firmly, pistoning yourself to truly let her feel how bad you’ve been wanting her ass as she remains steady, on all fours albeit quivering due to your reckless acts on her ass.

“Fuck—please, d-daddy—more! Gape me o-open!” Kyujin’s pleas are a chant in your, following those defiled moans that completes the symphony. Her sounds just ignites you to chase that high of yours, fucking her faster and letting her asshole take what you can give her, and you’re fulfilling what she wants for the umpteenth time.

“What if I just—fuck—like, fill this ass up?” You grit your teeth right after, continuing your pace as the resonating sounds of her cheeks meeting yours makes you throb, inching closer towards that promised state. “You wouldn’t m-mind that, do you, kitten?”

It doesn’t register within her answer so coherently and immediately, and you spanking on her butt harshly and deftly fingering her doesn’t help, even with such a reduced pace in your thrusts.

Kyujin whimpers and moans in return, and you’re not satisfied. “Kitten, answer daddy’s question.”

It’s stern and it barely registers in her with the current stimulation, but her current state etches a smile on your lips. “W-what question, daddy—fuck!”

You smack her again, and ultimately give her mercy because she’s been such a good kitten for you, and she deserves the best of treatment. 

“I said—” You lean down, your body resting against her back as you whisper in her ear, continuing your thrusts. “—you don’t mind me filling up this tight ass, won’t you, kitten?”

You kiss Kyujin’s nape, earning a moan from her as your hands grasp her tits against the white lingerie still fitted perfectly on her body and go down onto teasing her abs as the cherry on top. She manages to utter an answer, but not without broken melodies and discordant sounds of pleas.

“God—please—fuck, I d-don’t care anymore, daddy—” Kyujin pulls you into a kiss as you eagerly reciprocated, letting her know how much you fucking want her and you let her finish what plea she may utter. “—but as l-long as—oh god—I feel your cum, t-then it’s good…”

You continue pumping her and you’re at your wit’s end with the ability to last any longer than a minute. With her debauched sight, heavenly moans, and what she wants from you, you’d ultimately bless her with another reward.

Your cadence falls a little dissonant, grunting in every thrust as you continue to play with her tits on the fabric and kneading her cheeks to turn you on even more.

Right now, you’re going to erupt strongly and Kyujin’s ass vice grip would be the culprit.

“Gonna fucking cum so deep in you, kitten—” You lick her ear, continuing a strong pace as you pound her into oblivion. “—and you'll store it in your ass like a good girl, do you understand?”

Kyujin faces back, nodding her head and with her frame taking you all with great semblance of control and composure—even with her shivering thighs and possibly weak knees, she never ceases to amaze you—you know you’re just going to be hammering until you blow it all.

And so you did, cumming deep and painting her anal walls white, possibly every snug inch.

The sight is beyond fucked up with ten seconds worth of such elevated orgasm whenever you pull out—your cum leaking out of your tip and out from her tight hole, dripping towards her cunt.

Right at this moment, Kyujin has truly made you be at your best, to be downright animalistic and the filthy sight of her holes leaking with your seed will  forever be etched in your brain.

“That was fucking good, kitten—god, you’re so good for me.” You stroke Kyujin’s hair, reassuring her of how perfect she has been with you and how well she took you, and that alone makes you feel proud of her.

“Loved this so much, daddy—so warm inside me…” She turns around, laying herself flat on the bed as she recovers from the sneaky high she had when you fucked her ass relentlessly.

Even with the possibly evident soreness, she still aids you with easing her muscles up, letting the plug store all your cum inside her walls and letting it stay there for as long as you want.

“Good kitten.” You join her on the bed, peppering her cheeks with kisses as she finds your lips once again, eagerly reciprocating and voicing out how great this experience is. 

“I think we should do buttplugs more, daddy.”

“Filthy slut.” You chuckle right after, appreciating her features as you adore her fetishes. “That’s cute but damn, I really loved your cunt more.”

“You love both, daddy—stop lying.”

You elicit a gasp, shocked with her words as you state the fact. “I do but you—”

Yet Kyujin shuts you up with another peck, and then she pulls out with that cute smile on her lips, and her beauty still exuding seductiveness and the feline atmosphere still there.

You take seconds to adore and marvel as her incredible figure is still on display, despite the disheveled fits (you’re genuinely surprised her headband is still there, tucked and fitted) and ruined appearance—Kyujin always looks spectacular, and that’s such a blessing.

“Well, I guess there’s another hole you haven’t filled yet, daddy.” With the way she talks and invites you, how can you not resist?

It is all too well with Jang Kyujin, but you have some decency left and that grasp of self-control left in the bank.

Or do you?

Yes, you do.

“I think we should clean up first, kitten.” You rise up, as the young girl composes herself and agrees with you, but not without the following proposition. “Then maybe you can blow me on the balcony before we have dinner.”

That piques her, eyes scintillating full of anticipation as she rebuts. “But daddy’s load is enough for my dinner.”

You smile, giggling a little as Kyujin paints that familiar smile on her lips, her way with words still getting up on your nerves.

“Alright, let’s see how this goes, kitten.” You compose and dress yourself up (pretty unhygienic but okay), as you let yourself be occupied onto something else. “For now, you can take a shower while I get us some dinner.”

“Still with this plug on? And I wanna shower with daddy~”

Well, here are the toughest choices but she’s too insatiable to fight the temptation, and ultimately, Kyujin still wins.

“Fuck it, babe—remove the plug start up the tub. I’m joining you.”

That curls up that smirk on hers, as she elicits such an ecstatic cheer, swiftly going to the bathroom and preparing for herself and possibly, you.

That’s the only explanation for you meeting Chaewon at a party, because otherwise, it would be at risk of being labeled as fate—and boy, are those dangerous waters to explore.

And now, she’s ruffling her hair like nothing happened, having just taken a shot of something strong enough to get her ears red. You don’t know which; the party’s buzzing with probably each type of vice, liquor, and sin. You don’t usually attend parties for that reason. You don’t need a bad influence in your life when it’s so easy to get hooked onto the wrong thing.

Yet when your eyes find hers in this pool of bodies, you realize you’re just relapsing into an old dirty habit.

It’s written all over her easy smile, the way the fringe falls over her forehead. Chaewon turns up her chin and says, “Why don’t I know you?”

The audacity of this girl, really. Her voice is saccharine sweet. Her words sound like the lyrics to a siren’s song. You’re already six feet deep into the waters and she’s holding you down.

Yunjin rolls her eyes. She’s your best friend, but she’s also Chaewon’s best friend, which means she knows exactly how this is going to play out. It’s an old story. Chaewon does that seductress act, preying onto some poor guy, and the next thing she knows, they’re making out in the master bedroom.

 “Oh my god, don’t tell me you’re already flirting with him.”

“I’m not flirting with him,” says Chaewon, but she’s not even looking at Yunjin, her hand already ending up on your forearm. “What do you take me for, Jennifer? A slut?”

Yunjin thoughtfully places her fingertip on her chin. “Well—”

Chaewon bursts into laughter and tells her to shut up. God, even her smile is gorgeous. She’s a goddess up close—not a pore or a blemish anywhere on that flawless skin. Her scent is faint and sweet, some fragrance you can’t buy for four digits anywhere. You hate that you notice it. It just makes you think how far behind you are to Chaewon. Girls like her don’t look at guys like you.

Hanni catches Yunjin’s attention, dressed in a heart-shaped little top and fairy boots, looking like a butterfly. She squeals when she sees Yunjin, and their reunion leaves you and Chaewon to yourselves. The tension between you grows thicker. It’s impossible to breathe.

“Don’t listen to her. She’s just jealous I get to have you.” She tilts her pretty head and squints thoughtfully. “What was your name again?”

You can’t believe she’s talking to you, out of everyone in this house party. But you tell her your name anyway, and you can already tell it’s something her mouth will keep to memory. She’s circling you like you’re prey.

Don’t you want to fight back? Don’t you want to puff out your chest and say you know exactly how girls like her work? You’re just standing there, trapped by that golden voice and deadly silhouette. You’re not even pretending you want her to fuck off.

“It’s a nice party,” continues Chaewon. “Kazuha did her big one with it. Invited all the rich guys, the buff ones, the hot ones…” She pauses her stroking on your flesh to finally look you in the eye. “Tell me, are you any of those? Because if not, I’m packing my stuff.”

“I—I’m sort of—”

The serious look is immediately shattered from her face with a gorgeous laugh. “I’m just messing with you,” Chaewon assures you. It’s a cruel thing to joke about but she’s so pretty that forgiveness is instant. “I’m here to take my mind off things like you are. I’m not trying to do anything.”

But you should know by now that Kim Chaewon is a liar. From the very first second, she lied to Yunjin, lied to you about just messing with you. Her hand brushes yours as she reaches for a drink. Then it’s on your arm. Then it’s under your chin as she talks her way into a bedroom.

You don’t stop her. 

The yellow lamplight casts shadows over Chaewon, contouring her figure into a tiny silhouette on the wall. That tiny dress that reveals her back looks better in the dark. All you’re thinking is that this only ends one way, and how it shouldn’t because she’s trouble and you’ve already got problems without Kim Chaewon on your mind. What more are you looking to add?

She’s talking about her friends as she sits on the bed. And she’s got a lot of them—Yunjin, the girl she’s forever linked with; Kazuha, the biggest party girl with somehow the most innocent face, and; Sakura, who’s pretty much an introvert. She likes to stay home and crochet. It’s more fun that way, she had argued, and Chaewon rolled her eyes. This time though, she agreed to wait down in the lobby just in case anybody needed a designated driver. 

“But if you ask me,” she says (you didn’t), “Eunchae dresses best among all of us. I think it’s the sort of Gen Z fashion the older girls can’t master. Knows how to do her makeup, don’t you think?”

You realize here that Chaewon is kind of full of herself, only masking it behind asking your opinions then building another story about herself from that. Every word is a plot device leading to her, the main character. It’s something you find in too many people. They think that everyone and everything orbits around them.

It’s actually a pet peeve of yours but you have to give it to her: Kim Chaewon has every right to be narcissistic. Pretty face, great body, a great bank account to back her vices. She’s the girl every guy wants and every girl wants to be. It’s probably a statement made about girls less attractive and magnetic than her, but you know at the end of the day, it’s a title that only becomes true when given to her. She’s a carnal desire, something you cry about when you confess it to a priest.

“I guess I wasn’t really looking at her,” you admit. 

“Oh?” Chaewon sets her drink down. Her voice drops even lower. “Who were you looking at then?”

It’s a trap. It’s a fucking trap. But before you could tell her you’re leaving, Chaewon’s already kissing you. 

She tastes like vodka and sin and everything you shouldn’t be indulging in. But you do anyway.

She gets on her knees like she’s done it plenty of times for you. You get an idea of how an angel would react when they get a taste of sin when she cums around your cock. Her eyes  shut, her body curls around you like it’s the only thing in the world she can hold onto. She looks fucking perfect.

Girls like Chaewon give you heaven for a night then leave you forever. They leave you wanting more but never give it to you even if you get on your knees and pray.

But Chaewon obviously likes something about you. And come on—she’s no fucking angel anyway. You both can go to hell.

-

You have a place of your own, but most of your time nowadays is spent in Chaewon’s luxurious Gangnam apartment. You raise this concern to her as she does her makeup in the living room mirror. The lipgloss makes her lips look plusher, the mascara enlarging those pretty eyes. You raised concern over her vanity as well, but she dismissed it. You love it when I look pretty for you anyway.

(And you hated to say that she’s right. You love when she puts on lipstick that ends up all over your neck. You love when she wears the sexiest dresses of all so you can take them off. So you zipped your mouth shut and waited another hour for her to doll up.)

“Friends share, don’t they?” she replies. Her ass looks great in those cycling shorts. She said she’s going to the gym, but if she sticks her ass out at you one more time, she’d have to delay. 

You laugh. “Even friends with benefits?”

“It’s in the name, baby. Friends with benefits. Your benefit is staying in this chic place with me, while my benefit is that cock of yours.”

At least she’s clear with the fact that she’s using you. Sure, she likes that you’re easy to talk to and that there are no strings attached. But the feeling of your cock in her is too good to let pass.

And right now, Chaewon’s eyeing you like she’s up to no good.

You know that look. “Now?”

“What, you think I’m just horny 24/7?”

Chaewon walks and talks like she’s willing to go against each word. Those toned, perfect legs stride over to you. Her voice is sultry enough to stir a heat inside of you that, ironically, only she can put out.

She adds fuel to the fire by sliding onto your lap, her favorite seat. The curve of her cheeks perfectly aim at your bulge. You groan as Chaewon starts to circle her hips around you, all while she looks back at you with a bite of her lip.

You close your hands around her waist. “Thought you were driving to the gym?” 

“I could do a different type of exercise here instead.” 

“The membership is like, a fortune per month, Chae.”

You’re struggling to get your words out already. Damn those stupid shorts. Chaewon’s practically humping you. The feel of fabric upon fabric and her plump flesh pressed against yours is dizzying. 

“Doesn’t matter,” Chaewon says. Her breaths shorten but she doesn’t stop moving. The sports bra cups her tits that bounce with each rotation. “I can think of certain ways to pay it back.”

“And what could that be?”

She’s already giving you a hint with the hypnotizing sway of her hips. 

The graze of your clothed cock against her clit makes Chaewon gasp. You haven’t even gotten inside her, nor have you taken off that bra that pushes up her bouncy chest. But the feel of her gyrating against you, knowing exactly how you like it, is enough to make you go over the edge.

Not yet.

Chaewon rises from your lap. You almost groan if not for the show she’s offering you this time. She makes a show of stretching upwards, drawing your eyes to her tight midriff, before turning her back to you. Her fingers hook around the hugging material of her shorts to hike them slowly down her thighs. That bubble butt almost pops out of the fabric.

Only a thong. No wonder the wetness soaked through. 

She bends over a little as she shakes her cute little ass to you. You can see how wet she is, arousal sticking to the tiny thong snug between her cheeks. You quickly remove your pants as well because you know how this goes with Chaewon. She’s fucking insatiable. She never takes no for an answer.

And you never give no as an answer either. You’re a match made in hell.

“I was thinking…” Her knees dent the sofa beside your hips. With her palms on your chest, she works your cock, grinding her swollen clit on the head. Both of you gasp. 

“That’s new.”

“God, shut up.” Chaewon’s whimpering now. “Y-you know how we fuck like animals, right?”

She sinks onto the first few inches, her walls pulsing and fluttering around you. You let out a deep sigh. The sight of your cock disappearing into Chaewon’s tight little pussy never gets old. 

She warms your member for a few delicious seconds, her walls pulsating around you. Chaewon bites her lip and throws her head back. 

“Kind of stating the obvious here, Chae.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” she says in that irresistibly cute voice. It doesn’t seem too cute anymore when you compare it to how she begins to ride you, her hips rolling forward as if she’s trying to feed her cunt more of your cock. “But who’s to say we can’t use it to our advantage?”

She isn’t even explaining herself yet but already it sounds like all sorts of bad ideas. Chaewon herself is a bad idea. You told yourself that at the party, but she ends up on your cock anyway. 

Like right now: her clever hips snap downwards, and there’s that timeless feeling of her walls clenching around you. You lay back on the sofa and try to take deep breaths. Chaewon’s done this before, more than you could tally, but the way she fixes herself onto your cock feels new each time. You have to reacquaint yourself with how tight she actually is. 

The toned line of Chaewon’s back arches beautifully. You can’t take your eyes off it. Your abs tighten up as her ass bounces on your cock. 

“Let’s see: we’re both pretty fucking hot—” You laugh, the sound drowned out by a moan of your own. Chaewon bites her lip. “And we both have a pretty hard time keeping our hands off each other. Imagine the money we could make off that.”

Chaewon’s going faster now. Her strangled groans collide with the sound of her thighs slapping against yours. 

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” you ask, because the more Chaewon bounces on you, the more you can’t think of a reason it should be a bad idea.  

Her melodic moans strike every chord. How she could even get words out from how hard she’s riding you, you’ve no idea. Chaewon is a strategist anyway. She knows how to make do. So she rises from your lap, letting each pulsing inch leave her cunt, before ramming them all back inside her. 

You groan. Chaewon laughs, but in spite of it, her languid movements never stop. When she gyrates to and fro, you start thinking about how this is probably a ploy to get you to agree. Look, her body seems to talk to you, in all its little motions and curves, look how good it is to see me stuffed with your fat cock. Look how good you make me feel. Wouldn’t you want to see it all on camera?

You both know what the answer is.

Chaewon’s smirking. “I’m saying we should make a movie.” She starts rubbing her clit, and her breath hitches between her sultry words. “And god, baby, we don’t even have to have a script or anything. It could just be me and you, doing what we do best.”

Her voice gets higher. Her hips start to move faster, more frantically than you could handle. And lord knows you’re the only one who could handle Chaewon. If it weren’t for you, who was going to keep her satisfied?

“And you know the camera’s my best friend. I’d look good getting stuffed by that hard cock from any angle. Anyone can watch you fuck me, but they know they could never be as good as you. They could never own me like you do.”

This has to be illegal. It’s the way she’s egging you on, knowing exactly what to say to ruin you, combined with the orgasmic choreography of her hips that renders you defenseless against her. And what harm could be done? Chaewon looks great on camera, even greater when it immortalizes into pixels how her face looks when she cums. It could be something you’d look back at when you’re worked up and she isn’t there (although that rarely happens), or sell with a reminder taped onto the plastic case that she’s yours. They can watch her get her little pussy destroyed but ultimately, at the end of the day, your bed is where she ends up.

You hate to say it, but all in all it sounds like a pretty fucking good idea.

“Fuck, Chaewon…”

“Is that a yes?” she asks eagerly. The lethal grip of her pussy starts to feel overwhelming. “It’s a win-win situation… please, won’t you say yes? Please, please, please—”

You could never say no to her, honestly. Not when she turns to look back at you with those sparkling doll eyes, and definitely not when she’s milking you.

You watch your cum drip outside of her like a waterfall. It’s hard to take your eyes off it, but then there’s Chaewon’s face, sweaty and lost to bliss. Yeah, she would look great on camera. And you did remember thinking back then, when you first met Chaewon, that she was never the type of girl to not be captured by a camera lens. You admit that your idea was pictorials and Vogue covers, not porn videos.

But later on, after Chaewon goes for a shower again to clean your mess up and actually works out, you find yourself setting up an account. Of course, there needs to be a discussion of some kind of how far you actually want to go with this.

“Do you want to be like… a full-on pornstar?” you ask. The question makes your ears burn. It’s not something you’d ask the average person, but you’ve been through this a million times; Kim Chaewon is not an average girl.

It’s late afternoon and you’re on a videocall with her as she drives home. The gorgeous interior of the Mustang looks almost mediocre when put next to Chaewon’s gorgeous face. 

“Nope.” She shakes her head. “I’m not made for Pornhub, sorry to disappoint.”

“How is that disappointing?” you ask in disbelief.

“I dunno. A lot of people wanna see me do porn, but it’s just gonna be a side hustle for me.” 

Nod as you get the verification code from her email. You realize that you share everything with Chaewon. You know all her passwords and she knows yours. Your bank accounts are intertwined with each other. It’s a bad idea, seeing as there isn’t a clear definition on what’s going on between you. 

But right now, you’re literally creating an account to do porn together. It can’t get worse than that.

You pick Chaewon’s prettiest photo for the avatar—one of her in that tight Diesel top with her fingers through her hair. It parallels with the small rectangle in the corner of your screen.

“It’s asking for your age,” you tell her. 

Chaewon rolls her eyes, hands tightening on the wheel. “You know the names of all the positions we’ve tried but not my birthday?”

Cowgirl at Eunbi’s house as you try to be quiet, 69 at that suite after your promotion—okay fine, maybe she has a point.

“I do know your birthday. I just can’t do math.”

“You’re an idiot,” she says. There’s sweat rolling down the sides of her face. It shines on her chest and drips down the fabric of her sports bra. You can’t stop thinking of how her skin looks so good, flushed and stretched. 

Do a little mental math, eyes up to the spiralling ceiling fan. “Was I still an idiot when I made you cum thrice last night?”

Chaewon’s face burns red. The memory’s still fresh in that pretty little head of hers. “Shut up. Just fix my account and I’ll call Minju to give us advice later.”

“Park Minju or—”

“Please use your head for once. Is there another Minju who’s both a friend of mine and a pornstar?”

Alright, so she’s talking about Kim Minju. Pretty face, cute voice, thighs that could crush you. The girl’s a socialite who only does all the indie films for fun—the talent fees mean nothing to her. 

That’s probably why she does the whole porn thing so well. Top creator minjugato.__. earns millions a month from just a camera, her bed, and another girl. She’s fulfiled a whole niche: not too famous to get into an actual scandal, not too invisible for the common guy to recognize her from a small platform movie and think hey, I don’t mind paying for this.

You look at her slim, composed figure fixed on the edge of your own bed. “How long have you been doing this?” 

Minju smiles. “Not long enough,” she says teasingly, leaning over the PC. She’s typing in a caption for your first livestream. So far she’s helped you get a fair amount of followers with a helpful promotion post. 

minjugato.__.: hi all!!! any weekend plans? :3 mine is to watch my best friend ssamuwon’s new movie later tonight. maybe you should come by!! it’s pretty explicit but i don’t think that would be a problem 👀

The stats rise by the minute. Five thousand people await Chaewon’s debut to start. Everytime you look away the number seems to get higher. There’s clear demand for Chaewon, the hottest girl in Gangnam, perhaps even the whole of South Korea itself.

No need for second-guessing. Chaewon’s in your lap, wearing the tiniest tube top known to man. You’ve seen her in less clothes and without them completely but this one’s just explicit. It accentuates her waist and lets a little skin show before her black shorts—somehow even tinier—hug her hips. 

It’s no wonder at all she managed to convince you to fuck her for work. They’ve said to avoid capitalizing off your hobbies, but let the record show that you won’t ever get tired of fucking Chaewon. 

Minju makes a final click on your keyboard. “You’re live in five minutes. I set up a few ground rules in the corner just in case they get wild.” She fires you a wink. 

Chaewon reads the box of rules sent in the chat, pinned to the top of the stream. It’s all pretty basic. No scat, no invasion of privacy, just the usual. Minju conveniently added that requests paired with high donations are prioritized. You shudder. What would the viewers make you do to Chaewon? There’s too many fantasies to pick from. 

“Thanks for helping me slut myself out, Minju,” says Chaewon with a smile too sweet for what she just said. 

It doesn’t faze Minju at all. She actually laughs, the crease of her eyes making her look like a sly fox. “You know what they say: you have to learn from the best.”

Oh, the best, alright: Minju’s videos speak for themselves. They’ve gotten billions of views, spread across every social media platform to the point she had to commission someone for a watermark. It’s all good publicity anyway. More people watching meant more traction and discovery of her account. 

The air in your room is thick with excitement. The ringlight casts a perfect shadow over Chaewon’s body. There she is, much smaller than you while your shadow alone could overpower here.

And of course, Minju’s hourglass shape is there as well. It doesn’t look like she’s leaving anytime soon. You honestly don’t mind it.

One minute to showtime. Chaewon holds your face in her hands. She’s as flawless as the day you met: perfect skin, thick lashes, eyes that could kill. There’s an evil smile sewn on those glossed lips.

“You ready, baby?” she asks. You’ve often wondered how she does that: she could speak in her usual high, cheerful voice most of the time but when the world dissolves to nothing more than you and these sheets, it drops to this ridiculously sexy low note. She’s insane. She’s unpredictable. But she’s also the sexiest woman you know.

If you had to be honest—

“Never been more ready.”

Chaewon is actually the perfect girl for this job.

When it comes to porn, it has to be specific. Every detail should be. The average viewer looks for something that they can’t get anywhere and it’s her job to be that. When every comment’s assumption about her is different, she has to put on a multitude of faces, all to keep their interest.

And it comes as nothing to her.

anonymous_lurk_79: she’s way too cute to be on here NumberOneMinjuLuver replied: it’s the cute ones that are the freakiest i said the same thing about minju

The red light blinks beside the lens. So does Chaewon, getting on her knees before the camera and batting her lashes. She’s whatever they want to be.

“Hello, is this thing on?” Chaewon smiles sweetly, as if she isn’t discussing being fucked for an audience of seven thousand and counting. “It’s my first time doing this stuff. I hope you all go easy on me.”

She looks up at you then at your growing erection. She giggles. “But I hope this one here goes as hard as he likes.”

Minju giggles, too. Chaewon was a natural.

“Shall we start?” she asks. “How do you want me?”

mingmingult: she looks a lot like the girl in minjugato’s videos whenidiethr0wmyphoneintheocean donated $****: suck his cock first like a good girl

Four digits already? 

Chaewon does as she’s told. She wraps her small hand around your cock, giving it a few hypnotic strokes. Feels like your heart is beating right there in her palm, too. She could feel every hot throb of arousal.

She then wraps her luscious lips around your cock and starts to suck. She suckles on the first few inches, letting her tongue dance around the sensitive bits, before she moves on to take more. You can see her shorts ride further down her ass as she pushes her face on your cock. 

You pick up the camera and generously give the viewers a POV shot. Chaewon blinks slowly at the camera, breaking the fourth wall, and sits on her heels so they could see some of her cleavage. She looks even more enticing and tight in this angle. Try to keep your breaths controlled so it doesn’t drown out the sloppy sounds of Chaewon making out with your cock.

“Such a good little slut,” you murmur. Use your other hand to grab Chaewon’s short hair. She moans happily. Her seductive chuckle vibrates and sends ripples of electricity throughout your body.

1800hotnfun donated $****

Chaewon sloppily presses more of your length down her throat. Her breaths arrive shorter. You have no idea if she’s looking at you or the camera. You get the advantage either way; the juxtaposition of those large innocent eyes and the way she’s blowing you could make any man cum in seconds. 

nsfwizone donated $** 69__jonginkang donated $*****: what a fucking tease ANTIFRAGILENTHUSIAST donated $******: need to see this pretty little whore’s mouth filled w my cum

That would answer your rent for the next few months, with money on the side to really get this gig going. Plus, Minju did say that large donation requests should be prioritized. 

And if whoever this guy was wanted to see Chaewon with cum overflowing from her lips, then so be it.

Your grip on Chaewon’s hair borders on painful. You pull it back, angling her chin upwards. Film from the side and the viewers could see how your cock dents Chaewon’s throat, rapidly filling it up again and again. Her nipples are already hard. Her lips provide a tight suction, her hands on your waist an anchor for balance.

You’re really giving it to her now. Chaewon’s helpless little whimpers do things to you, and apparently to the other eight thousand viewers wishing they were in your shoes. The chat is filled with obscenities. The donations rank up higher. Everyone’s waited far too long to see Kim Chaewon get her face fucked.

If it hurts, Chaewon doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t even push you away or tap out. She lies there with her knees red and grazed, taking every shot you eventually pour into her waiting mouth. Each swift plunge makes her tits bounce in that tight top. Your cum fills her soft cheeks to the brim.

The flash makes the tears in Chaewon’s eyes sparkle. “Did you get every drop?” you ask.

Chaewon nods.

“Show me.”

She looks directly at the camera as she opens her mouth. As expected, you’re given a view of the pool of semen she kept for herself. She swallows it all obediently.

pipipi: fuck that was so hot Bunnybaby: we have a new supreme

You look at Minju for approval. It’s tens across the board for her—she looks flushed, squirming on the chair. There’s a lazy smile on her face.

“Was I a good girl?’’ Chaewon asks. The chat responds quickly. It’s flooded with emojis, donations, and dirty remarks. “Shouldn’t I get a reward for swallowing your cum?”

What reward? There’s a million things you want to do to her. You could bend her over the bed, creampie her, then fuck her ass until her cheeks are red. The possibilities are endless.

You look at the stream for suggestions. One particularly dirty comment points out how hard Chaewon’s nipples are, poking through the tube top in need of attention.

Chaewon reads it, too. Her fingers run up the shape of her figure coyly. “Can Chaewonie touch herself, please?”

She cups her boobs, slowly placing her fingers over the soft flesh. A groan immediately leaves her used mouth. She makes sure to look at the camera when she bites her lip. 

She pushes the top down until it bunches just below her perfect breasts. The fabric pushes up her tits even more, as if coaxing the spotlight to focus on them. 

She starts to pinch her nipples, tweaking and pulling them like they were made to be. You can see her getting worked up already. Each roll of her fingers over the hard nubs makes her soak through her lace panties. The little sounds she makes could kill you.

“Please?” Chaewon pouts. “I’m so, sooo sensitive. Can you help me out, daddy?”

You don’t have to say anything for her to know your answer. Your job is to be silent after all. It’s Chaewon they’re paying for, not you.

You set the camera back in its place and gently push Chaewon to the mattress. You tower over her. You’re taller, bigger, stronger; and it’s even clearer when there’s the lack of proximity between the two of you. She could barely reach your shoulders. It’s the little things like that the audience looks for. 

It’s the little things like that which set you off. 

Chaewon looks good in any angle. She constantly proves that with her Instagram photos, where even closeups make her look like a goddess. But she looks the best when she’s underneath you, writhing for your touch. 

You don’t stall more than you need to. The hot kisses on her neck are just foreplay. You attach your lips to a stiff nipple. She arches her back, but you keep her pinned to the soft cloud that is your mattress—she’s not going anywhere yet. You make sure of that by pinching the other nipple, giving both sensitive breasts equal attention.

“F-fuck…” Chaewon’s whimper is nearly inaudible. The rise and fall of her chest is hypnotic. She pushes her tits into your hand as you lick and suck. “You’re so good at that.”

You’re not selling yourself short, but these easy reactions are easily drawn from the fact that she’s sensitive. Dangerously so. The trail of your hand across her body leaves one of goosebumps. The thrill of getting her face fucked still runs high, and you discovered early on that the easiest way to make Chaewon melt was play with her tits. 

You squeeze her hard enough to make her whine. But your other hand’s grown tired of kneading her breast. It’s more interested in the soaked patch of arousal in the center of Chaewon’s shorts. Her legs immediately lock around your wrist, making you finish what you started. You can’t just play with her nipples then leave her to fend for herself. 

“Don’t stop,” Chaewon gasps. Your digits start to work between her legs. Her thighs tremble and her breath hitch in that particular way that drives you wild. The tight fabric of the shorts makes it difficult for you to intensify your movements, but you make do. Chaewon deserves to get fucked within an inch of her life. It’s what she so desperately wants anyway.

It shows in how she’s pushing herself up against you, tangling her fingers in your hair, hoisting her hips up so you could go deeper. The wet squelch of your fingers driving into her cunt is deafening. It makes her blush, but she’s got no reason to be ashamed. The viewers love it. They’re throwing money at her and betting on how fast she can cum.

Chaewon finally makes a mess on your fingers and screams at the top of her lungs, shaking and whining. When the bliss overtakes her features, you suddenly become sure of something:

You’re about to be the richest guy on the planet.

-

“Jesus.” Minju claps her hands together, looking very impressed. “You two are naturals.”

It’s been three days since Chaewon’s debut, but the profit you made could fit five months.  Chaewon’s doll eyes go wide seeing the numbers on the screen. You’re surprised as well at the followers you got in so little time. Other creators needed months of work to get this kind of traction. 

“This is insane,” you say. Hand Minju a cup of tea while Chaewon measures the damage she did on the internet. Mini tabloids are going crazy. And of course, people on your street are starting to look at her differently. They know too much about what goes on inside Chaewon’s luxury apartment, but they can’t tell the world how they found out.

Minju accepts the cup gracefully. For someone who’s been doing this for so long, she’s massively impressed by the quick success. Chaewon’s follower count will match hers in little time.

“I knew we were gonna do well, but not like this,” you tell her. “Thanks for all the help, Minju.”

Chaewon giggles. “Not that we needed any.”

“Little brat can’t even be grateful,” you say disapprovingly. Chaewon pouts, but doesn’t look regretful in the slightest.

Minju’s laugh is as charming as she is. “She’s not wrong. I don’t think getting money would be a problem, but you have to keep the hype going. You don’t want to peak so early.”

She sounds like a PR manager for all the beautifully fucked up films you’re going to make with Chaewon. You trust her word, though. This was a woman who knows what she’s talking about.

Chaewon studies her nails, painted hot pink and only long enough to scratch your back. “Maybe we could open up requests.”

“That’s a good idea,” Minju agrees. “People would pay a lot to see you live out their fantasies.” She sits back on your couch. A look of amusement crosses her face. “One time a guy paid me five hundred for feet pics.”

You raise your brows. “Feet pics?”

Minju doesn’t recognize the implication and only shrugs it off. You couldn’t believe people were actually into feet. It sounds pretty mild to Minju. She’s probably been made to do worse. “It’s easy money. He could’ve gotten videos with that amount.” 

Chaewon thinks of that for a second. It doesn’t sound too bad. It would take less effort than setting up a camera and managing through violent orgasms. But she thinks she likes the latter more anyway.

She used to hear older people give her advice when she was a student. They said to make money off what she liked to do, and she’d never have to work a day in her life. She smirks. How would they react if she told them how she made her money now?

“You could paywall the more intense stuff,” Minju’s suggesting now. “Don’t ever downplay how good you’re doing. If people want to pay for it and would pay for it, let them. But don’t post too often. You want to keep them wanting more.”

“Biweekly sound fine?” Chaewon asks. Oh, she’s serious about this. You wonder how you’ll survive the next week. 

“Perfect, actually.”

You butt in the conversation for a moment. “What about equipment?” Sure, you had a ringlight and a PC, but there’s nothing more. You imagine that this would take a lot of work and stuff, like a professional camera and neon lights. 

Chaewon was wondering about that as well. She looks at Minju, who shakes her head, much to your surprise.

“You won’t have to worry about that. The average person isn’t going to Pornhub anymore to get off. They want something unscripted now.”

Minju’s fox eyes dart pointedly at the two of you. “They want something real,” she stresses.

Her gaze is sharp with accusation. Chaewon laughs and rests her head on your shoulder. You don’t say a word to deny it.

-

Just in case anybody clutches their pearls over it, you’ll clarify here that you still have pretty normal jobs. You’re not totally prostituting yourselves for money, although you hate to use that term and you’re not desperate for the extra income.

You work a corporate job and volunteer at your nearest charity when you have time on your hands. (Taking note of the latter is advice you have to take yourself because it seems you live off sin 24/7.) It allows you to split the rent with Chaewon and buy food. 

As for Chaewon, she also works a regular job. You think? Wait, you realized that you have no idea what she does for a living. You simply assumed that with all her vices and expensive clothes, she must have a job keeping her busy somewhere.

Come to think of it, you’ve never heard her complain about work. It’s been a while since you moved in and got to know each other, but all the sticky notes about deadlines on the fridge are yours. 

“Chaewon, I have something I want to ask you.”

She turns to you, her legs swinging off the seat at the bar. You gulp. All of her beautiful legs are on display thanks to that tiny brown dress. The only things that bother saving anything to the imagination are her boots. 

That stitched cowboy hat too, if it counts. And it does the opposite of what it should. It makes you think of how well it matches her dress, and the way it makes her look like a cowgirl who could ride—

“Yes?” she says, still bopping her head to the music. 

“Where the hell do you get all your money?”

Chaewon ponders over this for some time, then takes a sip of her margarita. “Oh, I don’t know.” Seeing the surprise on her face nearly makes her spit her drink out from laughing. “Seriously, I don’t know! I think it just shows up in my bank account. I guess our little collaboration helps, too.”

She winks at you. Your breaths shorten.

Nope. Just because she’s the hottest girl alive doesn’t mean she can lie to you. “Liar.”

“Don’t be a dick.”

“What was I supposed to think, Chae?” you say as diplomatically as you can. You gesture to your surroundings. “We’re in one of the most expensive bars in Hongdae where the fucking senators’ kids create scandals. You’re wearing another designer set.”

You had a point. Chaewon shrugs off the offense she took. “My fault for assuming you’d think about anything other than me in this dress.”

She stands up and twirls around. The skirt floats around her thighs. Those safety shorts are way too tiny to be considered safe. Chaewon gets a hit out of teasing you though, grinning when the realization registers on your face.

“Don’t you want to take pics of me?” asks Chaewon with a pout. She doesn’t wait for your answer and hands you her phone. It’s the latest one, pink and sleek. “So we have content to upload later!” 

While you have qualms about taking pictures of Chaewon in her ridiculously provocative outfit, she’s right. It’s been a few days since your last upload. Minju said it was important not to post too often, but too long in between posts could throw your followers off.

So here you are again, playing the role of a photographer. You snap several photos of her within minutes. Chaewon switches between poses like they’re nothing. You have one where she’s bent slightly over the bar, a finger on her lips as she looks coyly at her short skirt. There’s one in the bathroom where she looks at the mirror instead of the lens. She’s holding the cowboy hat on her head and winking. 

All that skin, that shameless seductiveness… it feels like you’re getting drunk off of these sexy photos instead of the alcohol. Chaewon is too hot for you to handle.

You return to your private booth to upload them. What would she do without you? You’re her fuckbuddy, best friend, and social media manager all at the same time. 

anyone know where i can find a ride? ❣️🤠

It’s difficult to think of a good caption. Choosing which photos to post is ruining you. Not to mention the filtering to bring out the brown of her eyes and the sunlight. It makes you stall. You have to keep staring. You have to take note of every detail, every delicious curve of her body. Images of Chaewon posing, winking, and showing off are burned forever into your mind.

Your hands shake as you hit post. Turn your phone off. Focus on having a good time and dancing and singing and whatever you do, do not take another look at those pictures. 

“Oh, you poor thing.” 

Oh no. 

Chaewon sounds smug as ever as she takes a seat on your lap. “Hard already? We aren’t even in the bedroom.”

You don’t need this right now. Getting an erection could not come at a more inconvenient time. You can’t say anything provided that you can’t even meet her eyes.

“Don’t worry,” she purrs. “I’m gonna take care of that.”

There’s a hunger in Chaewon that needs to be satiated today. You can see the fire in her eyes as she pulls you out and wraps a fist around your stiff cock. The sight of her small, dainty hand compared to your shaft is provocative by itself. Those large, deceptively innocent eyes stay on yours while she drags her delicious touch up and down, preparing you for her. 

“Been needing you so bad lately…” 

Chaewon lifts her hips slightly. She allows your cock to rub between her slick folds, teasing at her entrance but never quite giving her what she needs. Her breath hitches when you hit her clit. 

“Promise to fill me all the way up,” she whines. “Don’t leave a single drop.”

You wouldn’t dare. There hasn’t been any penetration yet the wetness of her puffy lips feels like heaven. In your hands, her core works her waist into circles. More precum ends up grinding and mixing between your sexes. 

Chaewon whimpers. “Promise me.”

“Fuck, gonna fill this pussy up, Chaewon.” Her nipples poke through the thin bikini. Her grinding grows more desperate as you groan out your obscene promise. “Gonna breed this perfect pussy. Just ride my cock like the pretty little fuckdoll you are.”

She can’t take it anymore. Chaewon slams herself down on your cock in one go.

The stretch hurts so good. Her head throws back with a breathy moan. Her soft walls immediately hold onto you, throbbing and needy. 

The music is a dull thump through the walls. You could feel the bass in your heart time with Chaewon’s bouncing. Her back is against the door. 

“There,” she gasps. “Right there, don’t stop…”

Her eyes are dim with pleasure. You bring a hand up to pinch and roll her nipple, circling the taut peak with your thumb. Immediately Chaewon’s internal muscles clench around you like a vise. 

Her hips start to lift and dance in a little choreography of an impending orgasm. You hold her down, pinning her to your lap while you thrust up in her. The tightness becomes harder to push past through. She’s so tense that you have to rub your thumb against her clit to get her to relax. 

Your eyes meet. Jesus, she was a sight for sore eyes. The toasty, sunkissed color of her makeup makes her look like she’s blushing. The two of you are flushed either way. There’s forbidden excitement in knowing one of the servers could walk in here at any moment and see Chaewon riding you harshly. You shouldn’t be doing this here. There were important people who could raise this complaint to the higher-ups and get you banned forever.

You can stop the bullshit. When has hesitation saved you from getting in trouble? When has anything convinced you not to fuck Kim Chaewon? 

-

You didn’t even mean to execute this request so well.

It just so happens that this is how a day in your life looks like with Kim Chaewon. While they pay to place themselves in your shoes and see it happen, you’re the one who actually gets to touch her. 

A guy who went by the username hanyoooojin sent a large amount of money the moment Chaewon announced requests. Unlike the other ones who filled up the rest of the slots, he didn’t want anything overly specific.

Netflix and chill anyone? 😉

That was the caption you set for the video. It’s something enticing even with its simplicity, and come on, people would watch anything if it had Chaewon in it. 

The camera records everything. It starts out with Chaewon dressed in your shirt. It’s way too big on her, and if the fabric were any more see-through, it would be clear she only had a bra on. She’s lying next to you on your bed as a movie plays on your TV.

The volume is low, almost to complete silence. It’s only static background noise to what’s going to happen.

Chaewon snuggles against you. Her body is already warm. But she does a good job of acting like she’s interested in the movie. She called it boring a million times before, and you remain convinced it was an attention span issue. 

“I fucking hate when movies are slow,” she had said. She rolled her eyes. “What’s the point of making me wait thirty minutes for something exciting to happen?”

“Sounds a lot like you to hate taking things slow,” you replied easily, earning you a punch in the shoulder.

Maybe that’s why her hand slips under the blanket a little too early. You’re supposed to be a sweet domestic couple. It’s just a role you have to play for cash to come in. Chaewon’s the sweet girlfriend and you’re the boyfriend who still wants to hang out with her even when you’re exhausted. You watch a movie together, as requested, pretending you have no idea of what she’s about to do.

Her creamy thighs folded against each other hide her wetness. Chaewon’s become a master at angles. She knows to lift the blanket a little above your thighs so the camera captures her hand in your shorts. 

You look down at what she’s doing and laugh. “Thought you wanted to watch a movie,” you say. 

Her lazy strokes work you to full mast. You remind yourself that this was supposed to be unhurried, but there was no delaying gratification around Chaewon. 

Chaewon takes her eyes briefly off the screen to smile at you. “I do.” Her voice is soft and unfazed. She looks adorable in those puppy pajamas. It really sells the fantasy. “But I can do two things at once, can’t I?”

Her thumb circles your tip with maddening precision. Chaewon kisses you with the same gentleness she uses to jack you off. You can tell she’s struggling not to pounce on you. This isn’t the kind of sex she was used to. Sex for Chaewon was trading orgasms until one of you confessed you ran short. 

For this one, she has to keep herself sane. She has to be tender with it. She takes your hand, squeezes it in hers, and places it right where she needs you. The tiny pajama shorts allow easy access to her cunt. 

“Just keep watching,” she whispers.

The hair at the back of your neck stands up. Your lips find Chaewon’s again. You run your fingers up and down her slick folds while she jerks you off. Aside from a few heavy breaths and twitches of her tight body, she doesn’t take her eyes off the movie. She’s equal parts engrossed by it and focused on getting you off.

Chaewon’s voice runs into a whine as you go faster. Her thighs start to get messy with her own arousal. It’s taking everything in her not to strip off this shirt and ride you. She can do that later, something even the audience can’t pay to see. 

Even though you’re needy and throbbing in the soft grip of her fist, you smirk. “What’s the matter, baby? I thought you said we should focus on the movie.” 

Chaewon is still intent on keeping up the pretense. But it’s clear she wants this, too, the handjob no longer the unhurried routine she initiated.

You thrust your fingers against that sweet spot she’s been aching for you to reach. Chaewon’s body curls around you tightly. Her fingernails find purchase scratching on your forearm. 

She can’t do this any longer. You’re the only actor she can watch now. Her gaze seals onto yours as her movements grow more frantic, like she’s willing you to do the same. You have one common goal here, really. It’s evident from the precum leaking onto her wrist, her cunt pulsing around your digits. This could only end one way.

That’s one of the many requests you and Chaewon fulfill. Besides the need for real stamina, especially for longer videos, it’s actually not that taxing. It’s no construction job anyway, but fucking Chaewon comes easily to you. It takes no work at all when it’s as natural as improv.

Over the weeks, you get people tipping generously just for photos, and you remember what Minju said about them. People paid a lot to see a pretty girl naked and doing whatever they wanted.

“It’s up to you if you want to do them,” you remind Chaewon. It’s one of those lazy afternoons where you’d rather bask in the airconditioning than do anything productive. While you’re fully conscious, your body’s still in sleep mode, draped in the duvet and Chaewon’s form.

Chaewon rolls her eyes. You don’t really see it since she’s clicking away at her phone, but you know her so well that it’s like watching a movie you got a first look at unfold. “Look at you getting all mushy. I told you I don’t break easily.”

You know that, too. You’ve folded her in half and split her legs apart so many times, but you learned not to let her small stature fool you. In no makeup and just an oversized shirt and shorts, Chaewon’s the most antifragile person you know. 

You wave a hand in the air. “Of course you won’t break down. You’re the most dick-addicted girl in the world.” Chaewon snorts at that. “But we’re doing homemade porn for a reason. This isn’t a corporate or something. You don’t have to do every request there is.”

Chaewon sees where this is leading up to. She shuts her phone and shifts on the bed, the ocean blue sheets rustling above her. Her arms rest on your stomach. 

She tilts her head to the side like a puppy. There’s an amused smile on her face. 

“First of all, you should stop worrying so much,” she tells you. The faux sternness in her tone shouldn’t be this cute. “And second of all, nobody’s making me do anything I don’t want to do. I’m a big girl, you don’t have to worry about me.”

Right. It should be common sense already. Chaewon’s always done things of her own accord. She’s not the malleable type of girl who takes no trouble to convince. It’s honestly one of the traits you admire about her outside of the bedroom. Maybe, if you had Chaewon’s heart of steel or one-track mind, you wouldn’t have let her fuck you at that party. You wouldn’t be in this bed with her.

But god, were you glad you’re here.

You lose yourself in these thoughts for barely five seconds and she’s already suddenly too close. One wrong move and you’d end up kissing her. There’s that warmth again, radiating from her body in what you figured to identify as a sign. You get one too many good omens from Chaewon.

“And you know what I really, really want to do?” she asks breathily. Every word is a sultry huff against your lips.

Very few could stand a chance against her. You think it’s why she likes you so much and keeps you around, regardless if she’d admit it. You’re the only guy who could look her in the eye like you are right now and reply, “Do I even have to guess?”

It doesn’t take long for it to happen. These spontaneous sessions are becoming a bad habit. But how can you help yourself when Chaewon looks like that? You’ve no defense against those lithe legs and tight midriff, much less against that even tighter pussy. 

It just so happens all this looks great on camera.

You close the gap between you until it feels like your bodies are bonded together. They’re impossible to break apart. You have one hand closed around Chaewon’s wrists, the other on her hip. The pillow muffles her screams as you thrust into her mindlessly. Her ass is sore and red. 

“God, all that talk was for nothing, wasn’t it?” It’s always worth it in the end. You completely own her. Her pussy was just made for your cock, clinging wetly onto your girth and doing so even tighter when you back it out. “You just wanted to rile me up so I can show you you’re my good little slut, taking my dick like you were born to do.”

Chaewon’s crying out, messy little sounds tumbling out of her drooling lips. The pillowcase bears her weight and those tears of bliss. The truth is she wouldn’t trade this for anything else. She could spend all her life on the end of your length, whining her tiny waist into your palms and her ass perked and ready for you. She wouldn’t know what to do without hearing the sound of your skin snapping against hers.

“Feels so—fucking—good!” Chaewon sobs into the pillow. Senseless words are all you could fuck out of her. She can’t think much when you have your dizzying grip on her wrists like that or when you’re completely destroying her tight hole. “I’m just your personal cumdump, I’m all yours, you’re going so fucking fast—”

She’s absolutely dripping around you. Her body responds to you so well because this is exactly how she likes being fucked. She likes being fucked as if you’re trying to get her cunt to memorize the shape of your member. Not one spot on her body is left untouched. Her pussy tightens dangerously when you drive up into her cunt and those messy moans could be heard even with the fabric against her mouth. 

And it’s incredible without all the lighting and ignoring the camera blinking next to you. You’ve got a great view: Chaewon bent over and her ass up on the bed, the hourglass shape of her waist to her hips even more appealing from this angle, and her toned back shining with sweat. Her tits swing back and forth in response to the force you’re taking out on her. It could make any man go crazy.

You should’ve known to put towels on the bed, because the ending’s always the same when Chaewon feels the entirety of your control, when she’s being fed every thick inch of your cock, being handled like she’s nothing but a doll to release into—

“Oh my god!” Chaewon cries out, the lightning before the thunder, the thunder before the storm. Her scream is equal parts bliss and awe—she’s shaking all over, and the swift deep drills of your cock draw out her squirt. 

Neither of you expect it. The sharp sound of it makes you slow down. She hasn’t stopped pushing her ass into you. The puddle gets on your thighs and hers, splattering on the sheets. You feel suspended in mid-air staring at the mess she’s making. It feels even more surreal knowing you did it to her.

Chaewon collapses forward, her cheek against the softness of the pillow. It’s ridiculous how good she looks in spite of the messy hair and kiss-swollen lips. Always the temptress. The camera shines light on her exhausted, satisfied simper. 

And of course, there’s the evidence that will prove this happened. It will back you up even if Chaewon randomly decides not to post this video on the internet or worse, call everything off. The fresh mess she left on the blanket—the same one you had just been cuddling in a few hours earlier—is all the proof you’ll need.

Chaewon laughs breathlessly. She arches her back beautifully as she pulls away from your cock. It’s the perfect ending scene. 

-

All entertainment industries are parallel to each other in a way. You could work in film (legitimate films, by the way—not whatever you and Chaewon are making), music, or K-pop but what they don’t tell you is they all work the same. They manufacture and process things that appeal to the consumer. You could play the usual tropes, tunes, or concepts. Go down the loveteam road or make another generative pop song. If you’re brave enough, you can search for a niche and make it your brand.

You can do anything—release an Oscar-winning film or write a critically acclaimed album, pick your poison. It all boils down to one thing everyone is looking for anyway:

A big break. 

It will solidify your place in the industry and make sure you stay there, and if not, it makes sure you get a higher spot. A big break would earn you a loyal amount of followers and more money in your pocket. Very few get their big break. Some, although deserving, don’t get theirs at all.

In Chaewon’s situation, her big break was that video. Everyone’s talking about it and everyone’s absolutely obsessed with it. You see it posted in places you don’t expect seeing it: Instagram group chats, the NSFW side of Twitter, and the first Google result that pops up when you search Chaewon’s name. It’s gotten so much traction that you start putting a watermark of her username over the videos, along with a link to her social media profiles should they ever get crossposted again.

It’s an overnight success. You grin when you see Minju’s messages, supportive as always.

You woke with a stinging sensation in your head, little transparent worms wriggling through your vision. You did not register where you were, almost amnesic, soft bedding atop you, a plush pillow behind your head and a heavy-weighted notebook lying on top of the blanket. You picked it up:

READ IN CASE YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU'RE DOING.

Minji. The first time you saw her, she was sitting underneath a streetlight, reading, of all places, in Manhattan. No one stops to sit and read here. And you saw her there, a book about something with her legs crossed just slightly, all you wanted to do was make love to her. Buy her coffee, maybe, as hedge.

Everyone's busy with something, pricing their organs for their mid-life subsidies, for example; but her, she was sitting still in time, scarf looped over her neck enough times to fall in love. Around her the world pulsed, and she was still, making your heart sputter into little pieces of dynamite - pop, pop, pop! - covering your cheeks in red. And you had the audacity to ask what book she was reading - she said, Faulkner, an oldie but a goldie. And you never wanted to kiss someone so badly.

Eyes like the pools that girls would get naked and swim in. That mouth. You asked her where she was going and she said Nowhere, really - you were struck by how beautiful that answer was. How rare. Almost criminal.

So this is a poem for the woman sleeping next to you, who you have already forgotten, which I am sorry about, which is exactly why I am writing this. It's hard, married life and she hates your antimemetics job to death, but this is for life, she says, and then she kisses your temple, and the memories come rushing back.

I hope reading it rearranges that forgetful brain of yours. I hope it runs its fingers through your hair while she sleeps next to you.

Do you realize you're sleeping next to a goddess?

Good. Now kiss her after this poem is over. Don't put the notebook down and go pour coffee. Kiss her. Because she's the summer rain, the first kiss while the fog slowly clears. Stand at the edge of the world and kiss her until you realize that kiss could be the last, and then kiss her some more.

Her name is Minji.

Her name is Minji.

Her name is Minji.

You looked to your left. She was sleeping, facing you, one hand curled under her cheek, a t-shirt too large - which could mean that she stole it from you - and maybe, just maybe, the one she stole from you because it smelt like you, and maybe now, years later, it smells only like her.

You curl the page back

Another poem:

When she's asleep and the night pours through and the moon looks palpable through the window almost poking in I imagine you, Minji, your curved sleeping body to be the nest of our ship

Another page

I'm so sorry Minji It's hard, all this forgetting and misremembering and all this writing I'd ask you the pain of me forgetting and you say ten out of ten and it'd break my heart the richter scale will tell you how hard it is to recover from an earthquake and i can only imagine how hard a ten must feel. I'm so sorry for forgetting all the time.

This time, a poem written by Minji.

Why do you always forget, I say.

And you'll say back: just leave

But I love you.

and what if i leave first?

I will starve.

what if i find another?

I will die.

--Minji (check page 83)

You flip past many references, all the way back to page 83:

There's a small inline written by Minji: references handed out to every Antimemetics Division employee

REF: J-007

Containment: J-007 is kept in vault 9082A at the Secondary Archive building. This containment unit is medium-security. A 5 x 5 x 5 cuboidal room clad in layers of cement and electromagnetic interference shielding.

Security personnel have routinely lost their memory posted outside the containment unit. The shielding is 80% defective.

J-007 is a self-keeping secret, otherwise known as an antimeme. Information about the nature, physical appearance as well as its nature, is self-classifying - unable to be produced.

How J-007 was originally acquired is unknown. It was one of the earliest caught antimemes, hence its early number.

it is not indescribable, nor invisible; individuals are perfectly capable of entering J-007's containment unit and observing it, taking mental or written notes, making sketches, taking photographs and even making audio/video recordings. An extensive log of such observations is on file. However, information about J-007’s physical appearance ‘leaks’ out of a human mind soon after such an observation.

Individuals tasked with describing J-007 afterward find their minds wandering and lose interest in the task; individuals tasked with sketching a copy of a photograph of J-007 are unable to remember what the photograph looks like, as are researchers overseeing these tests. Security personnel who have observed J-007 via closed-circuit television cameras emerge after a full shift exhausted and effectively amnesiac about the events of the previous hours.

Who authorised the construction of J-007’s containment unit, why it was constructed in this way, and what the purpose of the described containment protocol may be are all unknown.

Despite J-007’s containment unit being easily accessible, personnel at the Secondary Archive uniformly claim no knowledge of J-007's existence when challenged.

All of these facts are periodically rediscovered, usually by chance readers of this file, causing considerable alarm. This state of concern lasts minutes at most, before the matter is simply forgotten about. A great deal of scientific data has been recorded from J-007, but cannot be studied. J-007 may present a major physical threat and indeed may have killed hundreds of personnel, and we would not know it.

Certainly, it presents a major memetic/mental threat, hence its (tentative) ε categorisation. At least two attempts have been made to destroy J-007, or possibly to move it from containment to another Archive Facility, meeting failure for reasons unknown. Addendum, 2226-11-10: It is hypothesised that J-007 was never formally acquired by the Organisation and is in fact an autonomous agent, inserted at Black River by an unidentified third party for the purpose of silently observing or interfering with other entities, the Organisation itself, or XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX. No action to counter this potential threat is suggested, or indeed theoretically possible.

Antimemetics Division employees find their memory most harmed when observing Unknowns; security personnel, require minutes to forget - employees need merely seconds.

Take the rule of memetics: the more you observe memory, the more you seek to observe ideas, the faster you lose them. There is a great evil in this world.

You shuffle your head above the pillow, pulling yourself up by parts. Your memory already foggier than the moment you woke up, which shouldn't be possible, the only one thing you remember was Minji. You turn your head left, towards her.

She wakes by parts, the sound of an early stretch, a hand finding your forearm, then the eyes, opening onto you. Those eyes, pools that girls swim in.

You read it?

I did.

All of it?

Not all of it, just a few pages.

Good. It's overload if you read too much of it at once.

Patient as always, she comes closer, dots a kiss on your shoulder, lets her hand find your heartbeat.

Mm, eggs?

Eggs sound good.

She said she'll take an hour to grab groceries. Maybe ninety minutes if she passes by the bakery, kissing your jaw at the door and saying don't be stupid.

You wash the breakfast plates, finish the coffee, take the equipment out from under the bed.

The home rig is half-size of the lab's. A black headset that loops around the temples, three sensor pads to apply behind each ear, battery pack the size of a deck of cards. There's a film of vaseline on the pads, you touch and feel how worn the pads are -

This was frequent.

You sit at the kitchen table, open the notebook to the working pages, ones with the red tab. The protocol entry:

MEMETIC MEMORY HEADSET - EXCLUSIVE PHYSICAL AND MENTAL CONNECTION CHANNEL FOR DIVISION EMPLOYEES

PROTOCOL AMNESIA: If clarity arrives sharper than usual - if the work begins to flood and a presence begins to speak - STOP. Do not answer it. Do not look at it. DO NOT TRY TO TOUCH IT. DO NOT TRY TO TOUCH ANYTHING.

Take Amnestic-3 (in your right pocket), take the pill and bite down and let the powder swell on your tongue. Wait 90 seconds.

Take Mnestic-2 (in your left pocket) silver gelcap. Swallow. wait 90 seconds - memories from the past 12 hours will flood in.

Take Amnestic-3 again, to forget the past 16 hours. Same dose until the rig powers down.

Clarity is then reduced by 1% and you'll be released from the cloudy arena of J-680.

--Minji

You wonder how many other entries she has been quietly updating, behind your back, to make sure you keep finding what you need.

You put the cuff on. The pads stick behind your ears with a small adhesive lick. And you start it.

A grey field starts to envelop the room, your breath slows.

There is a man at the other end of the table. There, in a chair across from you, hands folded on the wood. He is old, bearded, greyed out. Wearing a distressed coat weary with dirt. Around his neck is a scarf. You know the scarf - the scarf you wrote about when talking about Minji - Looped over her neck enough times -

He smiles. Quite a morning

You don't answer, the protocol entry incised between your hands.

Your wife saves you, the man says.

She saves you every morning. She hands you the notebook. She turns to the page with the poem. You read it and kis her. She has been waking up to a man who does not know everyday. She does you good. She is, in a literal sense, immune to you.

She is the summer rain, the man says. She is the first kiss while the fog slowly clears.

He has the fucking poem - you stand suddenly, reaching into your left pocket to reach for the amnestic-3, crushing it between your teeth and letting it dissolve, reaching for the mnestic-2 to grasp as a reminder to take it when you go amnesic.

He is visible through your hand. You close your eyes. He is still there, projected on the dark inside your eyelids, calm.

Stand at the edge of the world, he says, and kiss her until you realise that kiss could be the last.

You look at the table. The phone is there. You press Minji's name in the favourites.

It rings on the counter, three feet from your hand, where she left it before she went to the bakery.

Of course.

Of course.

You set the phone down.

She'll be home in forty minutes, the bearded man offers, helpfully.

You do not answer.

Do you know what she's getting at the bakery?

You take the mnestic-3

You remember Minji.

Minji.

Minji.

...

Minji.

Last night, near midnight, bodies swelling against eachother:

The kiss gets harder, heavier, hungrier. You kiss her like you're about to devour her, your hands screwed tight on her lips, shifting down her ass, gripping on because Minji can't possibly stay still under you.

She snakes her fingers between your bodies to get at your belt, wants more skin on skin, wants to feel you against her, wants you, your burning heat to brand her entirely.

There's a muted clink of metal, she's working your belt while you kiss her and steal her breath, lips stinging slightly between short intervals of air.

Next thing she's yanking the belt, slipping to the floor, a loud thunk. And she's on her back, you're pushing between her legs and your skin is on hers and you're savoring the gasp of her surprised exhales.

You're hot and heavy, the shifts into her hips has her wrapping her legs around your waist and pushing her hips to meet whatever stimulus you mercifully offer. She's gripping at your arms, her spine bends into those notes and her moans are an orchestra to you.

You nip at her jaw, suck at her neck, arms tensing around her head, hand curling onto her hair, and she's -

oh fuck, fuck - speechless. You on top of her, your hips rolling against the slippery wet of her underwear, the heat of you and the painful brush of your zipper everytime she grinds back against your rolls.

She reaches between you again - and you're sensitive: fuck, gently, Minji, fuck - but she's restless - pushing down your pants, graceless, far enough to see the desire between your legs and it's fucking terrifying how much you want her-

I need you so fucking bad.

And she's narrating it all - take, take me then, fucking ruin me. You brace back over her, catch her swollen lips, rolling against her cunt and it's pure fucking perfection.

Minji wraps her warms around your neck, mouth slipping over her cheek because just can't fucking stop the fuck that breaks out of her. And your body, what's between your legs, all but stuck and soaked to slippery oblivion against her cunt and the damp cotton of yours -

It's so fucking good, god please - it's all a blur out of her mouth.

It's so easy to imagine it now, how it would - how it will be when you take her. You braced on one forearm, the other gripping at her thigh, her ass cheek, pulling her lower body higher so each thrust of your hips, each grind of you covers more of her cunt.

Groping her ass cheek, long enough to curve around the entire cheek, brushing the bare, slipping wet of her that's leaking and slicking between her thighs as you brush her sex and it's

ohgodohgodohgodohgodohgod

Your fingers brush lower, slipping so close to that aching heat inside her begging to be resolved and she fucking whimpers under the pressure, arching her hips, trying to get that finger closer -

Mouth on her neck, pulling a mark out that makes her lose breaths, teething sharply at it, before you lick at it, kiss her pulse, her collar, the thin intimate skin between her breaths. Kiss all wide and hungry for skin.

Your lips brush the hard of her nipple -

How much have you been thinking about this.

You're not looking at her - grips the flex of your shoulders, the nape of your neck, scratching your scalp - and it's all but: all the fucking time, all the damn time.

you surround a nipple now, flicking a tongue over it, spine bending movements that sends her in a thrall - she's gasping, pressed to the sky.

You finally leave her some breathing room, your mouth leaving her shiny nipple, the skin surrounding her nipple shining like gold.

You're sensitive you finally say, stopping nearly all movement.

what the fuck she replies

oh? do you need me to continue, take you oblivion?

And she can barely form a sentence, whining, rolling the wet of herself onto you, your underwear damp from her grinding. You shift back, kneeling, gripping her hip, trailing upward to her body, her chest, palming a breast, biting a kiss right on the skin under her breast.

You're so wet. you say, and it's so obvious, you caress a breast, feeling that rapid heartbeat.

You lean down, hands over her hips to hold her still, and you press a kiss to her navel, scraping teeth all the way until -

ohgod.

tell me what you want. i need you to say it.

Minji bites her lip, hips inching up towards your mouth no matter how much she tries to keep still. A hand still entangled in your hair, scraping your scalp like: you know what I want, comeon, just please, you know what i want.

You lean back, looking down at her in the dark. Your hands curling around the sides of her underwear on her hips. Your knuckles hot on her skin. Her sex throbbing. A shiny wet mark on her hip from your mouth, her pulse beating beneath it.

Minji grips at the duvet, twisting the fabric, can't keep still while your eyes sink over her body, her toes digging into your thighs, your hips, sliding off and pushing out over the bed before coming back to curl her toes on your thighs.

Please she begs, hips twitching, a shine on the inside of her thighs that's all her own slick arousal. Isn't that enough? Can't you see how much she wants it? Isn't it all dripping and smeared between you?

fucking hell, her bare sex is exposed - glistening shine - and your knuckles go white trying not to dive in while pulling off her underwear. Look at you

You lean forward and her core clenches, the shine of her cunt shifts - open-mouthed, you come close enough to press a kiss, but you don't - a soft flick against her clit and she's writhing.

so fucking pretty

You lean back to pull off the rest of her underwear, pushing your hands into the inside of her thighs, this time, with an intention to ruin her. And you sink lower, watching her eyes, pressing a finger on the inner curve of her thigh, close enough to her cunt that she's fucking crying for relief.

pleasepleasepleaasepleaseplease

You flash a smile until your mouth is on her, tasting her, savoring her cunt, pressing hotly to her.

And she's so fucking sweet, you're chasing the taste, flicking over her clit, sealing your mouth over it, sucking at it, the pull of her mouth making her spine bend like nothing, making her hips roll like that could possibly save her. You curl your arms under her, thighs wide so you can devour her easier. And her foot lands on your shoulder, toes curled, the other sliding desperately across your side.

You press a tongue to her cunt, licking over it, around it, back up to her clit, until you press your tongue inside her. Your hands tighten on her ass cheeks, over the span of them, and you groan when she pulls you by the hair to take you deeper into her cunt.

You pull her a little higher, the pressure of your mouth heavier, tongue flicking her clit in a maddening rhythm and encouraging the twitching, needy roll of her hips against your mouth.

You suck at her clit again, urging her hips to roll faster. Hot and wet. Pooling all between her hips, like a fucking dam, lighting her up -

She's coming apart at the seams, every nip of your teeth over her clit makes her arc higher, until she's throwing one arm back to brace against the headboard, and she's riding your face like you don't even need to breathe.

which... fair.

Can't focus on anything until she feels your finger, pressing just against the clenching, empty, leaking spread of her. A slippery wet stroke over her before you press your finger just a little -

Minji cries out, her hips twitching down and it slips a little further inside of her and she's -

Please - Minji cries, trying to roll her hips lower, but your grip is too tight, your tongue rolling against her clit as you suck it, the pressure so perfect that she's sobbing; your finger stroking over the needy empty place she wants you so desperately to fill, before you're tucking the tip of your finger back in and she's -

Breaking open, that strung tight ache inside of her unravelling in a hot, spine-arching rush. body tensing, strung tight like a bow and then easing into a trembling mess; she sobs and twists her fingers into your hair so tight it has to hurt you, but all you do is groan, licking her up, chasing every drop, every hip twitch and jerky, shaking jolt of her body.

Oh my God, Minji sobs, turning her face into the pillow that she's somehow gripping onto and doesn't remember reaching for; her thighs trying to close around your head, her cunt spasming against your finger, still hooked inside of her.

You press a hot, open-mouthed kiss just above her clit and she jolts, whimpers and then cries out as your finger slips a little deeper inside of her while her body is still burning and shaking from her orgasm.

She whines when you nip her clit with your teeth, your voice rough: fucking perfect -

It's too much, she’s gasping into the pillow, but you aren't stopping and she thinks to shove you away just so she can fucking find her mind but you're sucking at her clit again and she's left writhing and squirming beneath you.

It's too much and you don't stop, no matter how Minji whines as she presses her hand against the top of your head, her limbs unsteady and weak, her thighs shaking as they try to close. You smile against her - she can feel it, the slip of your lips - before you're holding one thigh wide with a grip and licking her up.

Wait- she gasps, but you work her back up so quickly that the tensing of her arms turns into a tremble, turns into curling toes, turns into her pressing both her hands into your hair to push you off but all she ends up doing is twisting them in as you suck at her clit, your finger pushing deeper, just enough that when her cunt tightens on the next stroke of your tongue, Minji can clench around it -

She sobs, breathless, her spine arching, her hips twitching to press down, her body seeking more, more stretch, more pressure, more -

And then your finger sinks deeper, deep enough to pull desperate noises out of her; pushing in and then slipping back out to spread more of that slick over her cunt for you to lick up and drag over her clit in a maddening pattern.

God- Minji sobs as your finger slides back in, her hair knotting beneath her head, another orgasm burning between her hips. Her cheeks burning, her toes curling on your shoulders -

You pop the amnestic, the foam swelling on your tongue and the memory gets fainter, fainter -

The bearded man is fainter now. Like a slide projection in a brightening room.

I love what she has done for you, he says.

She is the reason there is a you to do this to.

The cuff finally ends its intermission, beginning a gentle whirr and the kitchen table dissolves. The walls of your apartment peel away and under you the floor shifts to a wooden deck, and there's water all around you, a lake so dark.

A man is sitting on a thin mattress beside you. He is old - wrinkles all over, maybe upwards of eighty, maybe even ninety - and he looks to be dying, hair thin like spider webs. But his eyes are immensely clear, like he's content.

Reyes, name's Reyes. You're the documentarian they sent?

Yes

Reyes holds up the syringe. The liquid inside is colorless - mnestic X. The failed youth serum. Rejuvenates mind and body by up to thirty years. Also fatal. But I'm immune. There's a glad smile on him.

He injects himself, and the change is immediate - wrinkles pull back, like a face lift but so natural. And he's a man again -

I remember...

You dot on the notebook -

REYES, LAKE, MNESTIC X

What do you remember?

Reyes is looking up at the sky, a bird - bird with immense grey wings, a branch in its bill, then disappears.

There is an entity that your division has never seen. The entity that my division couldn't contain. Back in the golden age of Antimemetic research, when we had a headcount of 578,000.

You only found 80 employees in your notebook - and everything's feeling just a little impossible.

It came at us. We weren't prepared to be attacked directly. It was eating the entire division alive. So hard and so fast that all we could do was self-destruct and take all the amnestic pills we could.

But - a sudden prickle in your brain. Something wrong. The lake is a little too still, like the night sky without stars.

If you know it exists, it knows you exist. The more you know about it, the more it knows about you. If you can see it, it can see you. And it Hates... to be seen.

You look down at your notebook again, the words are smudging -

There's a splash that you look back to, alarmed. But nothing in the lake.

You turn back and his whole body is shaking. Clamping his left eye hard.

Destroying all knowledge of it was the only way to contain it. And restoring my memories was a foolproof way to bring it back.

You reach for your amnestic-3 -

His left eye bulges. A waving black leg coated in dark hairs, forcing its way out through the pupil, and he tries to break the leg, tries to contain it.

What is it? What does it want? Does it have a name?

A n-a number

A second leg slides out through his trachea. Blood spills on the deck, a third leg from his abdomen.

I can't-

There's a drop, you're being dropped, a full 5 second drop into a hammer blow of water, every part of you filled with water, lungs seizing for breath. Reyes is gone, the deck is gone, and you're in water that's deeper than the sun can reach.

Everytime you blink, it'll get closer. Everytime you breathe, you'll know more about it

and it hates to be seen.

You fumble for the amnestic-3, you fingers are going numb and the nails about to fall off but you finally find it and crush it between your teeth, barely swelling from all the water mixed in. You wait, and you wait -

You can't remember anything, but the thing is still there, waiting.

And there's only pain

Pain that strikes your brain, your tendons, the spine, your teeth. You want to die more than you have every wanted anything.

But there's a voice: Swim. Get to the shore first. Then you can die

You begin swimming.

You wake in your bed. The ceiling is white. The blanket is pulled up to your chin. There is a heavy-weighted notebook lying on top of the blanket, and a woman sleeping beside you, facing you, one hand curled under her cheek.

You pick up the notebook.

READ IN CASE YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU'RE DOING.

The first page is a poem. A poem about how you wanted to kiss her, Minji so badly.

You look to your left.

She's still sleeping, t-shirt too large, maybe stolen.

You look back at the notebook, flip a few pages until -

If you are reading this, don't ever put on the headset ever again. It's all over. The division is being dismantled. God save us all. - the handwriting is rushed and stamped by the Antimemetics division.

–

This would be very apparent from the dinner leaving a horrible taste in your mouth. Even with the five-course meal curated by the most fine dry-aged meats, the savory dishes spliced in immaculate presentation, and the fine refreshments of dessert after, you can’t help but feeling- 

Sick. 

The dinner had been pure, psychological torture from the moment you walked in. In kindness, you’ve excused yourself with a fist in your pocket, reaching for a pack of smokes as a way of coping (or in this case: relapsing). It’s safe to deduce that you’d be better off away from the crowd of people inside and finding solitude outside on the balcony at the long end of a corridor. 

While the quick bliss of smoke, corroding your lungs with every puff and pass, it oddly clears your mind while staring out into the distance. It all hits you in quick flickers - flashbacks blinding you in a mixture of regret and wanting of reconciliation: the image of a woman with her hair swept so beautifully, wearing a dress with thin straps that look like they could fall off her shoulders so easily, standing in front of you with your hands wrapped around her hip ever-so slightly. 

One cigarette goes, and another comes. You can’t stop your twitching hands. She definitely saw it, even from a distance. Staring at the ground a few floors up and the gentle breeze soothing your mind as the two women glanced at you from across the table - how one of them quickly put it altogether. 

Despite how cushy the job was, it was literal hell trying to keep your sanity in check with all these women twisting your mind into a man fucked- 

“I take one good look at you and think you’ll just throw yourself off the building,” a voice grabs one ear from behind, seeing the very woman who might as well point the gun at you and fire at your head, her face just as gloriously cold like the night, bare shoulders and thighs exposed beneath the slit of her dress. 

For one, you’re leering - though not too much - since it’s best not to ogle and give into the urge to consume her entire look, ‘cause the girl’s close but still so far out of reach. Ripping into your stare before your eyes dart elsewhere. “Why are you here, Dahyun?” 

“You look out of it, so I just wanted to see how you’re doing.” 

Surprisingly, it’s dangerously appreciative of the concern, but you know well her silent anger is enough to kill a world leader if the cards aren’t played right. “Cut the bullshit, babe. I know.” 

She blinks, pulls her lips flat. “Okay. Then-” 

For the record: you’re an idiot. A complete fucking imbecile at that. Yet it’s in just the general nature for a man like you to give into desires that you shouldn’t be bothered by in the first place- 

“How long, hm?” 

-to be at an end recuperating such a sinful act. And you’re about to experience Dahyun reaping the absolute benefits of it. 

“You have to understand,” you plead. “It wasn’t my fault-” 

“Save it,” she says, her tone remaining calm; pitying your sorrows (in mourning for breaking the vow you swore at the altar). Reaching, Dahyun steps forward; not in anger, you think. But rather, willing to get the whole story before she comes to her own verdict of the situation. “First Momo, now Sana’s trying to get a piece of you for herself again. I always knew.” 

God, she’s your own grim reaper looking deathly beautiful beneath the shining moon, her dress hugging the curves delicately that you can’t help but surf along them with your eyes. You’ve got this smoky look in your eyes which she notices - and she knows what they could mean, because she can’t break her gaze away. 

“What exactly are you defending here, dub?” You mumble, a hurtful plea, just the thought of Dahyun (and Sana) is making you lose your mind more than just being disappointed with yourself, a part of you that wishes to take everything back and fill that craving of her that’s all-consuming. 

Dahyun’s got no words to suffice, because it’ll just be a revolving door of the same issues over and over again. She can’t help herself, in the way you look at her and how she reciprocates it, like you’re back to wanting her after being pulled away from other beautiful women that are just as equally whipped for her. They can get you all they want, but Dahyun’s yours at the end of the day, drinking in your eyes; kissing you because she’s yours. 

Against red wine and tobacco and you told Dahyun that you’d quit being a chainsmoker, but your tongue slips into hers and she’s falling in love with the very same mouth that did so from the beginning. Your hands grasp around her waist desperately, feigning less care that you’d rip the dress right off of her body; a drastic engulfing as if you’d never want to let her go. Dahyun’s feet then get her pinned against the wall, shrouded away from the world where you’d let your deepest sins rise from the darkness - kiss her until she begs to breathe once more, hushed through slack lips: “Everyone here drives me crazy, including you.” 

It was never meant to be this sort of cruel reminder or notion of how things are; no, not even in the slightest. In the end, she’s the one who’s got the ring on her finger and you’re hung up on whether yours should be taken off or not. “I was angry with you once, but not anymore” she whispers, lips stuck in this heated inferno when you descend down the lower parts of her neck. 

Kissing her pulse, the tip of your nose brushes her cheek. “We both know that’s a lie and you know it,” you say, “You know it; I know it. Why don’t you confront Sana and see what she says about this.” Since this has been a revolving door of many occurrences and girls falling in and out of your arms; though the one who has always stayed is keeping you right where you are. “What could she say, hm?” You propose, blindly angered. 

“What could she say? As if she wasn’t the one to find out about you and Momo in the first place-” 

“And you remember when she called me that night,” you grin, “Yeah you scare me sometimes, but I don’t fear you. Not when you’re like this.” A shrug is what you give when your hands claim her wrists, raising them higher above her head. “Everyone wants a piece of me just as much as they want a piece of you.” 

Dahyun’s gaze freezes, watching as you make way a familiar path of placing an ear to her breasts. “I get that, but-” 

“Don’t bullshit me.” 

“Even if I were to say something, what difference would it make with the others? When Momo got you-” 

“The first time was already rough as it is,” you grumble, “It’s not like I’m being shunned, am I? Besides; they don’t have me. You do.” Your eyes shimmer in hers. “So what if I’m being passed around like a boytoy-” 

Dahyun’s shoulders loosen from your gripped wrists. “Maybe this was a mistake,” she sighs. “I shouldn’t have checked on you.” In lieu of saying: you’re fucking inssufferable is what you are - she blinks right through your face. 

So: to hell with it. Fuck everything and everyone is the best presumption. 

She tries to leave, but you don’t let her, keep her confined to the corner. “What do you think you’re gonna do? Who are you gonna go to? Sana? What would she say?” You ask, eyes narrowed. 

“No. But I might if you don’t let-” 

“Let go? Wow. I thought you’d stay and watch me wallow in my emotions.” Dahyun scoffs at this, since there've been many ‘disagreements’ before. Even when Jihyo made way to you that other time at an event like this, Dahyun was pissed. Your hands find solace at her hips, rustling fabric to skin. “I’d never let you off that easy.” 

You hear her breath shorten as she tries to wriggle out of your touch; drinking in the dark, salacious intent your eyes pool out. “Babe- wait. We can’t, no. Not like this,” she says suddenly, because she knows what’s about to happen - even more humbling and pathetic to her own mind - much less of a plea or surrender in your name. Trying to break free from your hands but you raise hers high; higher actually. 

“Didn’t you want to see how I was holding up?” You murmur, breath warm and lavicious. “For the record: I wasn’t doing okay until you came around.” There’s truth to this statement, overshadowed by the sneer in your tone. Your fingers slip in the opening of her dress, at her waist while the other cups her ass. “I could tell it was bothering you the way you slammed your glass on the table.” 

“Sana and Tzuyu-” and her groan is the first real break in her act. “Ugh. Those two don’t know when to back the fuck off,” she admits, shaking her head. Turns out she was subjecting herself to her own psychological warfare of the other girls ogling at you from a distance. 

You don’t buy her alibi at first, studying her figure as your hand traverses down between her legs: “I did say that you’re even hotter when you’re mad, but you being soaked is another,” you huff, “Look at you, Hyun. You’re dripping.” Normally, you’d take pleasure in finding this out, but it’s overshadowed. “Don’t tell me you’ve thought about Sana on me, too.” 

“Do you really think that lowly of me?” She asks, doing all she can to not notice the press of your thumb on her little clit through the fabric. The assumption alone could be enough to not be on speaking terms, yet it’s very invigorating how frustrated the both of you are. Her head dips - an admission, “It would’ve been so hot, though.” 

“Oh?” You say, settling between her legs, rumpling waves of fabric that were a measly barrier between the growing tent right at the seat of your pants, waiting to meet her long-awaited cunt. “What if I told them I’d also do the same thing I’m doing right now?” you gruff, “If that’s what my girl wants. Fine. Have it your way.” 

Dahyun shudders at the voice; everything about the way your words are presented are so enunciated and punctual: “I’m going to take this body of yours as mine like it’s supposed to be.” 

Her body follows the flow of your mouth and hands, responding to them with their own violation, thighs pressed against each other to sustain the feeling. One knuckle up her cunt wasn’t enough, so there goes another - or two, even - and the fabric between the inevitable crime is only making it worse in the need for more, and rough. 

You’re taking it all in, in the sound of her hot mouth funneling in your ear. Utilizing all the friction you can to make her ache before you’ve even sunk your cock into the poor girl. Cumming in no time flat which is a small testament to how you want her to be, and how she wants you desperate to go all the way. 

So much for her panties anyway: ripped from her hips and lost into the darkness behind. “Whoops,” you say, unbothered (yet you like it despite the little effort), “Didn’t mean to do that. Just hope you don’t drop anything in front of Sana, or Tzuyu, for that matter.” 

(It’ll be an idea for her sometime in the future. Maybe when she’s been riled up enough to get an entire coalition to deal with your insufferable antics - to use you as their own personal servant until they feel like they’re willing to switch the roles around. You hope so, too. Dahyun will never know before the day it happens.) 

Just like how she picked the ideal dress that hugged her body, adorned with all the curves and angles perfectly fitting with the intent of making you notice. Because she knew that you wouldn’t stop. She looks over the dim lights shimmering through the small windows, a small clamor of people stepping outside of the ballroom. “Someone could hear us, y’know,” she whispers, biting her lip as she feels the third knuckle bathing in her slick.

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” you drawl, the gentle groan of your zipper undone. Divide and conquer: work her lips while she gets herself open for you, whimpering at the feeling of your tip pressing hard into her entrance. 

Not that it was some form of protest, wrapping a leg around you, pushing her hips forward for the angle where she likes it deep. Dahyun holds you close, to the neck and with fingers in your hair. You, on the other hand, are shameless and gripping her ass as the pace is being found, snapping your hips upward and letting her back hit the concrete behind her. 

Dahyun’s body is a map you know all too well. It’s easy, and (always) good. She throws her head back and moans, letting the clenching cunt do its work around your length. “Right there, hon,” you rasp, quietly. “Not too loud. Cover your mouth if you have to.” She nods in reply, neck going slack as she can’t fathom the same spot of her cunt being worked over one thrust in the next - like she’s being transformed to a being that your only purpose is to love her. 

For a girl like her- 

One that comes off as inviting and prude in a second, to being an unfiltered deity who won’t back down in voicing her demands where she sees fit. 

Fuck me. 

The dark dress being lifted to reveal more is your own twisted version of a veil. 

Harder, babe. Please. 

“God, Dahyun-” 

“Fuck me like you want me,” she commands, and you have to wonder if she truly wants to get so fucked over and make it the constant reality (which it already should be) to get you apologize with more than your mouth attached with apologies. 

“Christ, you fucking tease.” It’s hardly an insult, but rather an affirmation of what’s owed: “You’re the biggest and neediest girl that needs to know where she stands. Insufferably whipped like there’s nothing else than that.” 

Dahyun winces in reflex, as noticed by her cunt gripping your length like a vice. Her eyes blown in a hazy black, closing them in humiliation while the arousal continues to out her with every slam and drag back of your hips. Her face is against your neck, gently kissing the pulse; one more thing to worry about that’s clouding the impending edge you’re getting yourself off on. 

The preferences in a short amount of time come in quick succession: hosting her up to the moonlight; fucking her fast and painstakingly slow, to the point where she has to slap your face to get your attention, despite that with one more slide down your shaft, she can’t bring herself back to earth as she cums all over your cock. 

“You’re-” you choke because her whine was loud enough for someone to notice, but honestly getting caught would be better than being like this. “Absolutely wonderful, my love. Look at you, sopping all over my cock like you can’t help it. 

“Fu- it’s so good, it’s too good I can’t fucking stop-” 

“Don’t,” you sneer, letting one of her legs back down as she stops halfway, sharply inhaling at the flex of your cock inside her, clearly displeased. “If you don’t stop me, I’m going to fuck you until I cum in your pretty little cunt; we don’t want them to notice it after now, would we?” 

The groan slipping out of your fiancé’s lips is pure music, mixed with her climax, but with every upward stroke inside she then realizes what was currently happening. Dahyun pulls your head close, where her mouth is back on your ear, and it’s a siren’s call: “If you really want to show that I’m yours, then you better mark me where everyone can see-” 

“An absolute fantasy, baby. Oh my fuck-” you slip here because the idea’s way too rewarding with how the whole thing unfolded. “I bet you’d like the thought of seeing me get off with the others just as much as you are right now.” Because it could happen, and it will; just entirely a matter of when that time comes. 

You kiss her, brutally, with teeth and tongue and every mixed emotion of anger and denial and wanting to own up your regrets to take back what’s yours. Dahyun feels it in the rough heat, and she’s hot all over. A bad desire that’s only boiled from the tension prior because you’d much rather have a mattress to fuck her in as opposed to sleeping in shame on the couch. “I’ll make it up to you. Here,” you confess, thumbs pressed to her hips as they hold her in place while you’re pushing the angle a little more deeper. “I’ll fuck you as many times as it takes if it helps you forget what the other girls have done with me; when you’re full and cock drunk and begging for more, then you could at least stop pretending like you’re not mine.” 

“Please,” your girl sighs, and she’s begged for your cock multiple times, enough to tattoo it into your skin and bones. It almost makes her feel guilty; it’s in her eyes, and you might’ve both misunderstood each other- maybe. You get yourself off in her, thrusting without any sense of remorse, letting her moans fill your ears until it all becomes white noise- 

“Yes, yes, yes, yes-” 

You blink right through the simple praise, naturally cumming inside her like she’s meant for it. 

It then gets messy, lackadaisical. Your entire body shudders as rope after rope is put inside her hole. Her head nods in approval, rubbed against your cheek. She’s melting in your hands, almost enough to make you worry she’ll slip right through your fingers. 

“Fuck,” rasps Dahyun. “You came so fucking much.” 

A groan is all you give in response. 

She coos as you slip out and see her wobble, sinking to her knees, holding her breast and swiping her tongue to the underside for a quick second. “Think I can make you cum with my mouth in a minute?” 

You gaze down to her beady eyes, breath hot on your balls. It makes your cock twitch on impulse. “I have a better idea.” 

“Scared?” Dahyun tilts her head in confusion, which also forces her to stand up without you telling her. “What’re you-” 

“You can clean up my cock later when we get home,” you say, lifting her leg and place your cock back in her needy entrance, revitalized from her small taunt. A few more thrusts even long after you’re spent, and you’ve came in her again. The tightness squeezing around your cock makes you leak when you pull out and land a little more cum on her inner thighs. 

“Oh my god.” says Dahyun. “Fuck- you really couldn’t help yourself-” 

“Save it,” you spit, take a moment to stop the shaking in your legs and get your pants right. Dahyun dips a finger to the mess below and has a taste for herself. She looks at you without any care, and your hips feel stiff once more. 

“Do you realize how hot you are when you’re angry?” And she acts like the cloth doesn’t cut both ways.

“If you want Sana to know where we’ve been,” you tell her, grabbing her chin and forcing to your height advantage, yet she bites her lip because you know she likes it. “You’d show her yourself what’s under that dress, while also thinking of me.”