男性

The shopping trip had been going normal. Nami got you outfits of all kinds that she liked the look of you in. Cute dresses, skirts that were both cute and hot, stylish trousers she said made your ass and thighs look good, nice shirts of different kinds for different weathers etc etc etc.

Point is, it'd all been going fine. Then you'd stumbled across a lingerie shop. And her eyes sparkled.

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"Mmhm, mhm, you taste so good," Nami moaned, licking your clit through the open gap in the lingerie that left you exposed there. Your hands gripped her curling hair, not pulling, simply gripping with the navigator kneeled before you, your legs propped up on her shoulders.

Shortly after the shopping she'd rented this room and had you change into the lingerie. When you'd stepped out, she'd pounced on you like a panther.

And here she was, eating you out like a woman starved. Her tongue flicked at your bud and she sucked it making you gasp and throw your head back. When you looked down, through half lidded eyes, Nami's drunk expression made you feel warmer than you already were as she started up at you with reverence.

"Keep doing that," She commanded making you furrow your brows with confusion.

"Doing what?"

"Keeping your arms like that," she mumbled, licking at your slit again. "Makes your tits look nice."

You looked down to see that, with you holding her hair, you'd inadvertently pressed your breasts together. The lace on your lingerie, picked by Nami to be the colour she thought suited your skin tone best, bunched up slightly with the cups brushing against each other.

"Pervert," you muttered but did as she asked anyway, keeping your breasts pushed together. She gave your clit a harsh suck at your words and you gasped into the air, giving her hair a tug.

Nami's moan vibrated through your body, her nails digging into your thighs as she dove her tongue back into you and continued to take her fill.

It wasn't much longer before you could feel your climax building. Your breathing began to get heavier as the feeling in your stomach stirred. You released your grip on Nami's hair to tap her head which she understood as the signal.

She released herself from your pussy to look up at you, her eyes were half lidded and with the way her hair was messed up with your hands she was the one who looked fucked out.

"Touch yourself for me, pretty."

You blinked down at her but she was already tasting you again. So you moved your hand from her hair and brought it down to your clit. It was already soaked from Nami's work so you could begin to circle it with little effort of preparation needed.

A moan left you at the dual stimulation of Nami's tongue and your fingers, and you rubbed at yourself in tight circles quickly bringing yourself to orgasm. Nami made a pleased sound as you moaned through it and devoured your cum.

Once she was done she looked up at you with a pleased smile. You knew you were definitely wearing this piece again.

Called cat-burgalar Nami cause shes getting all that pussy

you loved partying; going to different clubs, hopping from club to club, drinking and dancing with your friends until the sun came up — occasionally doing subsistences with pretty strangers , which led you to kissing pretty strangers in the club bathrooms. you just loved clubbing and partying.

normally you went out with your friends; but tonight you were alone , and you didn’t mind — because you knew by the end of it you wouldn’t be. you squeezed through the crowds of the crowded club , pulling down your sparkly black mini skirt , making your way to the bar to order a drink.

“i’ll pay for it , i’ll have the same thing she’s having.”

you turned to face the person; she was gorgeous. “thank you.” you smiled , the girl stood in front of your seat. “but i could’ve paid for it.”

“i didn’t say you couldn’t , but i wanted to pay for you.”

“im giselle.” she spoke , her arm resting on the bar counter. “you come in here a lot , but tonight you’re alone.” her eyes falling to your lips.

“my friends didn’t want to party , they’re being boring tonight.” you said. “they said i party too hard.” doing quotations with your fingers.

“well i’ve seen you , you do go pretty hard.” the bartender returned with drinks , sitting them in front of you. “you can party with me tonight if you want.” she smiled , opening her palms , two tiny pills in her hand.

“you don’t have to if you don’t want to.” she picked a pill out from her palm , putting it on her tongue before swallowing it , picking up the shot , downing it right after. “there’s no pressure.”

you knew you’d regret this in the morning when it was time to get up — but you’d deal with it then. she watched you picked the pill up , putting it on your tongue , swallowing it; also downing the shot. “i’m here to have fun , let’s have fun.”

she grabbed your hand , guiding you to the middle of the dance floor , her hands finding your waist with ease , your arms wrapping around her neck; the two of you dancing to the loud music as the pills started to set it.

she spun you around; your body flushed against hers , giselle’s hands wondering all over your bodies , your body heating up due to both the pills , and the heat of the club — but also the girl currently kissing your neck , her hands grabbing at every inch of your body that she could get her hands on. “you’re so fucking hot.”

“i really want to kiss you.”

turning back around , you smirked; grabbing her cheeks pulling her into a slopping , wet kiss. your tongues dancing together. you moaned into the kiss as her hands traveled down to your ass ; giving it a light squeeze. “that’s what i like to hear.”

you weren’t sure how many bad decisions you’d make before the night was over , but you surely didn’t stop her from grabbing your hand , guiding you to the club exit. “where are we going?”

“my place.”

her apartment wasn’t that far away , so the walk wasn't bad; it was full of giggles from the pill , and stopping for a makeout in the middle of the sidewalk , her almond shaped nails scratching down your back lightly. “can’t wait to take this off.” snapped the back of your bra.

before you opened the door to her apartment ; she was pushing you against the solid wood , her hand ghosting around your neck , not to choke you , but you felt it. “you’re gonna be a good girl for me right?” her lips barely on yours , smiling when you nodded , looking into your blown out eyes.

you guys finally made it into the house; your skirt was already pushed up on your waist before you made it to her room ; but she pushed you down on the bed , dropping to her knees in front of your legs. “let me see that pretty pussy.”

she slapped the sides of your thighs. “yeah that’s it.” she kissed the plush , spreading your thighs apart. “good girl.” her hands reaching up to pull your panties down.

“giselle.”

her nose brushing your clit as she engulfed your pussy. “fuck.” your hands coming up to her long hair , tugging at it , throwing your head back. you’ve never received head like that before — she ate you up like she was starving , her hands traveling up as her mouth never left your lower half , her hands moving quick as she snapped your bra off. “giselle i’m gonna cum!”

that didn’t stop her , her arm hooking under your thigh , throwing your leg over her shoulder, pushing you down on the bed — your moans turning into pleasurable screams as she didn’t let up on your clit , sucking it making you twitch. “oh fuckkk!” you squealed.

“fuck i’m cumming.”

she looked up at you , her eyes blown out , dark with lust as you came all over her mouth. she eagerly slurped up all your juices , leaving kisses on your clit as she got up. “taste just as good as you look.” her lips were once again on yours , your lips dancing together , the pill taking over fully , she pulled away with a lazy smirk , standing up.

“go up there and lay there and look pretty for me.”

she immediately started stripping herself of her clothes , opening her closet door. she bent down giving you a preview of her ass , standing up , turning around the harness in her hand. “cutie.” she smiled as you eyed the toy , it was definitely bigger than anything you’ve taken — man or women. “you’re drooling.”

she put the harness on , climbing back on the bed , wiping your bottom lip. “you wanna give it a kiss?” you were quick on your knees , giving the plastic toy a quick kiss. “look at you”

her hand gently pushing your head down on the toy , letting her push your head down. she yanked your head off the toy; you let her manhandle you into position , your ass in the air. “look at that ass.” she massaged it.

“you want it?”

lining her cock up with your entrance; rubbing the cock along your folds. “you hear that?” pushing the tip into you. “how wet your pussy is?” sinking fully inside of you.

her hands tangling up in your hair , tugging at as she pounded into you. “giselle!” the cock touching deep inside you , her hips slapping against yours. “deeper please — harder…”

she gave into your wants , pushing your head into a pillow; arching your back to get a deeper angle — going harder , tears filling your water line as she fucked you. “want you to cream my cock.” she whispered into your ear. “make a fucking mess on me.”

pushing her cock as deep as it could go , your legs shook as you came; squirting all over the toy. “fuck , that’s it.” she pulled out , slapping your ass. “made such a mess.”

you felt dizzy , but in a good way; like you were floating , only being pulled back when she grabbed your face. “you still with me?” you nodded , she smiled, kissing your lips. “good.”

she hooked your legs , her clit kissing yours , your anklet dangling by her ear as she moved. “fuck baby.” she moaned out , holding your calf , kissing it as she began to speed , both your moans getting louder , the headboard hitting the wall. “shit!”

you reached up , grabbing her boob , running your thumb along her nipple , watching it pebble up. your buds touching , making her hunch over , still moving as she kissed your neck tenderly. “such a slippery pussy , you’re gonna make me cum.”

she moaned into your ear , your third orgasm approaching quickly. “cum with me.” she cursed. “want you to cum all over my pussy.” she screamed , going faster , squeezing your boob. “fuck!”

both of you moaning out loud as you came , your juices mixing together , messing up the spot below you as you rode out your orgasm. “fuck that’s was so hot.” she kissed you messily , spit dripping from both of your mouths as she pulled away. “you’re so fucking hot.”

unhooking your legs , she fell next to you; her hair splayed on the pillow like a halo , her skin coated with a sheen of sweat. “you’re staring at me like you want to eat me.” she smirked , you took in her naked form. “i’m not against it.” you said , now sitting on your knees. “if you do , there’s no way i’m letting you leave tonight , hell you may never get rid of me.”

“so you’re saying that it’s a bad decision?”

she pulled you into a kiss , your hands resting on her bare thigh , she pulled away. “i’m saying you’ve already made so many bad decisions already.”

“but that might be the worst one tonight.”

and you clearly didn’t care , because you were already working your way in between her thighs.

you've known kim minjeong since you were seven years old.

back then, she was the quiet girl who sat in the corner of your second-grade classroom, the one with her nose always buried in a book during recess while the other kids played tag in the schoolyard. you'd approached her one spring afternoon because you'd forgotten your lunch and she was the only one who looked like she wouldn't laugh at you for it. instead, she'd silently split her gimbap in half and offered you the bigger piece without a word.

that was eighteen years ago, and somehow, you're still in each other's lives.

minjeong grew up to be beautiful in that understated way. the kind of pretty that sneaks up on people. sharp jawline, soft features, cute chubby cheeks, expressive eyes that crinkle when she smiles. she's always been on the quieter side, a little shy, a little reserved. but around you? she's different, comfortable, real.

she works as a freelance graphic designer now, which means she sets her own hours and spends most of her time in oversized hoodies, sitting in cafes with her macbook and an iced americano. you went into marketing, which is how you ended up at the same coffee shop in hongdae on a random tuesday afternoon when your life started to unravel just a little bit.

"you look stressed," minjeong said as she slid into the seat across from you, her curly hair pulled back into a messy half-updo. she was wearing a black leather jacket over a blue crop top, the outfit somehow both edgy and effortless.

you groaned, dropping your phone onto the table. "my cousin's wedding is in two weeks."

"okay?"

"and my mom won't stop asking if i'm bringing someone."

minjeong took a long sip of her coffee, eyebrows raised slightly. "well… are you?"

"no. obviously not. i haven't dated anyone in like a year." you rubbed your temples. "but she's convinced i'm going to show up alone and embarrass the family or whatever. she keeps trying to set me up with her friends' sons. it's a nightmare."

"so bring someone."

"who? all my friends are busy or already coupled up."

there was a pause.

minjeong tilted her head, studying you with those dark, thoughtful eyes. then she shrugged, so casual it almost seemed rehearsed. "i'll go with you."

you blinked. "what?"

"i said i'll go. pretend to be your girlfriend. it's not like i have anything else going on, and honestly?" she smiled a little, that rare flash of mischief crossing her face. "i'm kind of bored."

your heart did this stupid little flip in your chest, which was ridiculous because this was kim minjeong. your childhood best friend. the girl who once cried because she accidentally stepped on a snail. the girl who knew every embarrassing thing about you and still chose to stick around.

"you... you'd really do that?"

"yeah. why not?" she leaned back in her chair, looking entirely too pleased with herself. "besides, it might be fun. i've never been to a wedding as someone's fake girlfriend before."

"minjeong—"

"just say yes. you need a date, i need something to do. it's perfect."

and that's how you ended up here, two weeks later, standing outside the shilla hotel in seoul with minjeong beside you, looking absolutely devastating in a tailored black suit that hugged her frame in all the right places. her hair was styled in those loose curls you loved, tumbling past her shoulders. she'd done her makeup too— subtle but striking, with a hint of shimmer on her lids and a nude lip that made you stare a second too long.

"stop looking at me like that," she murmured, a faint blush creeping up her neck.

"like what?"

"like you're nervous. we're supposed to be dating, remember?"

right… dating. fake dating.

you took a breath and linked your arm through hers. her body was warm against yours, and you tried not to think about how natural it felt.

the wedding hall was gorgeous, all white flowers and golden accents, the kind of elegance that screamed old money. your relatives were already mingling, glasses of champagne in hand, and you could feel their eyes on you the second you walked in with minjeong.

"is that her?" your mom appeared almost instantly, her expression a mix of surprise and approval. "you didn't tell me you were seeing someone!"

"yeah, well... it's still pretty new," you said, feeling minjeong's hand settle on the small of your back.

"ah, hello, i'm kim minjeong," she said, bowing politely. her voice was soft, respectful. "it's nice to meet you, eomeoni."

your mom practically melted. "oh, she's so polite! and so pretty. how long have you two been together?"

"a few months," you lied smoothly, and minjeong nodded along, her thumb tracing idle circles against your spine through the fabric of your dress.

it should have felt wrong. it should have felt awkward.

instead, it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

everything went smooth— the ceremony was beautiful, and you barely paid attention to it. you were too aware of minjeong sitting beside you, her thigh pressed against yours, her fingers occasionally brushing your hand where it rested on your lap, every touch felt deliberate, intentional.

during the reception, you were seated at a table with some of your cousins, all of whom were very interested in grilling minjeong about your relationship.

"so how did you two meet?" one of them asked.

"we've known each other since elementary school," minjeong said, smiling. "but we didn't start dating until recently."

"childhood friends to lovers? that's so cute!"

you felt your cheeks heat up, but minjeong just laughed, her hand finding yours under the table and squeezing gently.

later, after the toasts and the cake cutting, minjeong leaned close, her lips brushing the shell of your ear.

"want to get out of here for a bit?"

your pulse quickened. "where?"

"our room. i need a break from all the questions."

you'd booked a suite at the hotel for the night. it seemed easier than driving back to seoul after the reception. the plan had been to just crash and deal with the aftermath of the fake dating ruse tomorrow.

but when minjeong looked at you like that, her eyes dark and unreadable, you found yourself nodding.

the hotel room was spacious, with a king-sized bed and floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. minjeong kicked off her heels the second the door closed behind you, sighing in relief.

"thank god. those were killing me."

you laughed, setting your clutch on the dresser. "you did great today, by the way. so very convincing."

"yeah?" she turned to face you, and there was something different in her expression now. something bolder. "i had a good time. your family's really sweet."

"they loved you."

"and you?" she took a step closer. "did you love me?"

the question hung in the air between you, weighted with something unspoken. you just smiled and nodded.

"of course.”

"we should practice," she said suddenly.

"practice what?"

"kissing." her cheeks flushed, but she held your gaze. "i mean, we're supposed to be dating, right? what if someone expects us to kiss in public? we should make sure it looks real."

your mouth went dry. "you want to practice kissing..?”

"only if you want to." she bit her lip, nervous now, that shy side of her creeping back in. "we don't have to. i just thought—"

you cut her off before she could finish the sentence.

"i want to," you breathed, the words tumbling out before you could overthink them. "practice with me, minjeong."

her eyes darkened instantly, that shy nervousness melting into something hotter but still gentle. she stepped forward until your back hit the edge of the bed, her body pressing softly into yours.

"okay," she whispered, voice husky yet tender. "just practice."

but the moment her lips touched yours, it was anything but practice. the kiss was slow at first, tentative and sweet, her soft full lips moving gently against yours, tasting like the champagne from the reception. then you sighed into her mouth and she lost it just a little, her tongue sliding in shyly at first, then deeper, tasting you with quiet hunger, one hand tangling carefully in your hair while the other rested on your waist.

you moaned softly, hands fisting in her black suit jacket, pulling her closer. her wild curly hair tickled your cheeks as she tilted her head, kissing you harder, more desperately.

"ah," she gasped when you broke for air, her forehead resting against yours, a deep blush staining her cheeks. "you have no idea how long i've wanted to do that... is this okay?"

her hands started roaming, sliding down your sides, squeezing your ass through your dress with gentle firmness before slipping under the hem. her fingers traced up your thighs, teasing the edge of your panties.

"you're already so wet," she murmured against your neck, nipping at the skin softly. "all from a little kissing? so pretty... you're doing so well for me."

she pushed you back onto the bed gently, crawling over you. her curls cascaded down around you like a curtain as she kissed you again, deeper this time, her touch still careful but in control. one hand pushed your dress up around your hips while the other tugged your panties aside.

two fingers slid through your soaked folds, circling your clit slowly before dipping lower. she pushed them inside you in one smooth thrust, curling them perfectly against that spot that made your back arch off the bed.

"minjeong— ah, fuck," you moaned, hips bucking up into her hand.

"shh, jagiya," she cooed softly, pumping her fingers faster, her thumb rubbing tight, gentle circles on your clit. "let me take care of you. been dreaming about how tight you'd feel around my fingers... it’s so good..."

she added a third finger, stretching you open deliciously, the wet, obscene sounds of her fingering your dripping cunt filling the hotel room. she was relentless but so soft, fucking you deep and steady, her mouth moving to your neck, sucking marks into your skin while her free hand pinned your wrist above your head with tender pressure.

"so tight for me," she groaned, voice low and filthy but laced with affection. "your pussy is sucking my fingers in so greedily, baby… does that feel good? tell me, jagi.”

you were a mess, whimpering and grinding down on her hand, chasing every thrust. the pleasure built fast and sharp, her thumb pressing harder on your clit as she curled her fingers just right, her eyes never leaving your face.

"cum for me," she whispered hotly in your ear, her voice shaking just a little with her own shyness. "wanna feel this pretty pussy clench around my fingers. come on, let go for me... you can do it."

the orgasm hit you hard, walls fluttering and squeezing her fingers as pleasure crashed through you in waves. you cried out her name, thighs shaking around her wrist, soaking her hand and the sheets. she didn't stop, fucking you through it with slow, deep thrusts, whispering praises the whole time until you were trembling and oversensitive, whimpering into her mouth.

"that's it... such a good girl for me," she murmured, kissing your forehead softly as she finally slowed down.

she pulled her fingers out slowly, bringing them to her lips and sucking them clean with a quiet moan, eyes locked on yours the whole time, her blush still burning bright.

"taste so fucking good," she groaned, licking every drop off. "i could eat you for hours... if you want me to."

but she wasn't done. the lines had blurred completely, and neither of you wanted to stop. you slipped out of the reception early, claiming tiredness. minjeong led you straight to the parking lot, her hand never leaving yours, her fingers laced with yours shyly.

"my car's waiting," she said, voice still husky from earlier, a soft smile on her lips.

you barely made it into the backseat of her sleek black mercedes with the deep tinted windows before she was on you again, pushing you down and crawling over you, straddling your lap with gentle confidence.

"need you again, please," she pleaded softly, unzipping your dress with impatient but careful hands, her own suit jacket and shirt shoved aside in a hurry.

the car smelled like her perfume, leather, and the faint trace of soju from the reception. she kissed you deep and messy, tongues tangling as her fingers returned between your legs, three this time, thrusting in with purpose, curling perfectly while her hips ground down against your thigh.

you tugged at her wild curls, arching up into her, moaning her name loudly now that you were alone.

"cum for me again," she demanded, voice hoarse and filthy but still so soft. "soak my fingers like the good girl you are for me, baby. let me feel how much you want this... you're doing so perfect, jagi."

you shattered hard around her fingers, soaking her hand and the leather seat, thighs trembling uncontrollably.

but you flipped her, laying her back against the seat, mouth latching onto her nipple while your fingers explored her soaked folds. she was dripping, moaning your name in that breathy, shy voice.

"please, deeper," she gasped, hips bucking wildly, her hands gentle in your hair. "fuck me harder, jagi, i need it... please be good to me too."

you slid three fingers inside her, curling against that spot, thumb circling her clit in rhythm. her thighs shook around you, one hand gripping your hair, the other scratching down your back lightly as she rode your hand desperately.

when she came, it was intense. body tensing then melting with a broken cry of your name, curls splayed wildly across the seat, necklaces tangled between you both.

afterward, you both lay tangled, breathing hard, her head on your chest in the quiet of her tinted mercedes, the seoul night wrapping around you.

"this wasn't fake," she murmured, tracing patterns on your skin, voice soft but certain even as her cheeks stayed pink. "hasn't been for a long time. stay with me, yeah? for real this time... if you want to."

the biting, crisp air of the milanese winter clings to your skin, but the heat radiating from your own chest—a mix of nerves and adrenaline—is enough to make you feel as though you might catch fire. you clutch the straps of your gear bag, your knuckles white, your fingers tracing the worn fabric as if searching for a thread of stability.

every step you take toward the milano ice skating arena feels surreal. for years, you have lived for the sound of steel shaving against ice, the rhythmic thrum–hiss, thrum–hiss of your skates carving paths into the frozen surface. you grew up in local rinks, your knees bruised, your hair perpetually pulled back into a tight bun, dreaming of the day the olympic rings would loom over your head. and now, you are here. you made it.

“do you remember the skates, honey?” your mother asks, her voice thick with that particular brand of bittersweet pride that only parents of athletes seem to possess. she’s walking a step behind you, her hand hovering near your shoulder, itching to offer comfort you aren’t sure you need or can handle. “the ones with the little white bows? you cried because you couldn’t land a single lutz.”

your father chuckles, a deep, resonant sound. “and the trophy from the regional finals in ‘19. you slept with it under your pillow for a week. you’ve worked so hard for this, kiddo. just breathe.”

you try to smile, but your jaw is tight. you offer them a quick, tight–lipped nod, wanting to keep your focus sharp. as the grand glass doors of the arena swing open, the temperature drops, and the smell of ozone and freshly zambonied ice hits you like an old, comforting friend. this is it.

at the entrance to the locker room hallway, you turn back. “i have to go,” you say, your voice barely a whisper. “i’ll see you in the stands. please don’t embarrass me.”

their faces are a blur of teary–eyed encouragement as you turn away, walking into the corridor that leads to the heart of the competition.

the atmosphere inside the locker room is a chaotic symphony. hair spray fills the air, mingling with the metallic scent of skates and the sharp, floral notes of expensive perfume. competitors from around the world are scattered about, limbering up, applying glitter that catches the harsh fluorescent lighting, and whispering strategies.

as you navigate the narrow space, you feel like an intruder in a sanctuary you’ve only ever observed from the outside. people look up, some smiling, some offering polite nods. you try to return the sentiment, offering a small, awkward wave to a skater who catches your eye, but your confidence falters as you round the corner into the main dressing area.

there, sitting in a velvet–lined semicircle, is the quartet everyone has been talking about.

yoo jimin—the world knows her as karina—is leaning back, her posture impossibly perfect. her face, often compared to that of a digital rendering or an expensive porcelain doll, is currently set in a mask of total concentration. you’ve seen her perform on loop for years; you’ve watched her command the ice with that terrifying, calculated technicality. her movements aren’t just athletic; they are surgical. she shifts, her neck arching with a grace that seems almost robotic in its precision, her hair falling into place with a flick of her head that looks choreographed even while she’s just sitting down.

beside her, uchinaga aeri—giselle—is laughing at something on her phone. she exudes an effortless, “swag–heavy” energy that makes her look like she belongs on a stage in tokyo or new york rather than waiting for an olympic skate. she’s vibrant, her eyes bright with a sharp, guarded charisma.

on the far end, winter—kim minjeong—is tugging at her glove, her expression soft and seemingly innocent, a stark contrast to the intensity you know she brings to her jumps. and finally, there’s ningning, who is currently applying a layer of bold lipstick, her gaze playful and fierce, the kind of person who seems to turn the ice into a personal playground.

you pause, your bag slipping slightly on your shoulder. you’ve idolized them from afar, seen their names at the top of every leaderboard, and now you are standing in the same room, mere inches away. a part of you wants to introduce yourself, to bridge the gap between “rookie” and “peer.”

you offer a shy, under–the–shoulder greeting, your hand rising halfway in a hesitant wave. “hi,” you murmur, your voice disappearing into the hum of the arena.

the transformation is instantaneous.

the laughter stops. ningning’s hand stops mid–application of her lipstick. giselle’s head tilts, her eyes narrowing as she looks you up and down with an expression that is neither welcoming nor curious—it’s dismissive.

karina doesn't even move her shoulders. she merely shifts her gaze, her eyes like cold, clear glass as they scan your gear, then your face, then the way you are standing. she leans in toward winter, whispering something that makes the younger girl’s lips curve into a thin, inscrutable line. they don’t acknowledge your greeting. they don’t invite you to sit. they simply exist in their own private orbit, a solar system of talent and cold, hard beauty that seems to have no room for a satellite like you.

the air in the room suddenly feels thinner. you feel small—not just as a competitor, but as a person. the warmth of your parents’ pride is replaced by the chill of a thousand needles pricking at your skin. you aren’t just another skater; to them, you are a nuisance, an interloper, a footnote in a story they’ve already finished writing.

you pull your bag tighter, your knuckles white once more, and hurry toward your assigned locker, your heart hammering a frantic, uneven rhythm against your ribs. you realize then that the olympics aren't just about the ice. you’ve walked into a den, and for the first time since you started skating, you aren't sure if you’re here to win, or just to survive the gaze of the queens of the ice.

the locker room hums with a tension so thick it feels like static electricity. you reach your locker, fumbling with the combination, your hands shaking just enough to make the dial slip twice. all you want is to fade into the background, to lace up your skates and let the cold air of the rink wash away the sting of their silence.

but the silence is hard to ignore.

“did you see the latest entry list?” ningning’s voice cuts through the room like a blade—sharp, high, and unapologetically loud. she isn’t looking at you, yet the way her head is angled, you know the comment is meant for the air around you. “seems like she’s letting just about anyone in these days. quality control must be on vacation in milan.”

giselle lets out a sharp, cynical laugh. “let her have her moment, ning. it’s cute, isn't it? the ‘effort’ it takes to just show up. i remember when i was nervous about my first major event. it was adorable.”

you freeze, your hand still resting on your locker handle. the humiliation is a physical heat rising up your neck. you’ve worked for this. you’ve sacrificed friendships, late nights, early mornings, and the physical well-being of your own body for this moment. to be reduced to “cute” or “anyone” isn't just rude—it’s an erasure of everything you’ve built."

karina finally turns her head. her movement is so smooth, so controlled, that it feels uncanny. she looks at you, not with malice, but with a terrifying, blank indifference that feels worse. her eyes, beautiful and crystalline, sweep over your competition–grade skates, the ones you scrimped and saved for, as if she’s assessing their value and finding them wanting.

“are you going to stand there all day?” karina asks, her voice cool and low. “or are you going to lace up? the ice isn't going to wait for your jitters to subside.”

winter, who had been the quietest, glances up. her eyes aren't as cold as karina’s, but they are just as detached. “don’t trip on your laces,” she adds, her tone lacking any real warmth. “the judges here don’t like it when you mess up the surface early. it’s bad form.”

you don’t respond. you can’t. if you speak, your voice will tremble, and that would be the final victory for them. you shove your bag into the locker and grab your skates. as you move, you catch a glimpse of yourself in the oversized mirror on the wall. you look pale, caught in the reflection behind the radiant, perfectly made–up quartet. you look like what you are: a newcomer who is vastly out of her depth.

you retreat to a corner of the room, as far away from the group as the space allows. you sit on the narrow metal bench and begin to lace your skates. you pull the laces tight—tighter than you ever have before. the pain in your fingers as they pinch the material is grounding.

focus, you tell yourself. the ice doesn't know who they are. the ice only knows your blades.

you close your eyes for a second, trying to recapture the feeling of your first competition, the pure, unadulterated joy of movement before you knew what it was like to be judged by the silhouettes of icons.

across the room, the quartet is standing up. they move in unison, a pack of predatory grace. as they walk toward the exit, headed for the practice rink, they pass by you. you don’t look up, but you can feel them. you can smell the scent of their hairspray—a mix of expensive jasmine and something sharp, like ozone.

giselle’s shoulder brushes against yours—a deliberate, calculated touch. she doesn’t apologize. she doesn’t even break stride. she just keeps walking, her laughter echoing off the concrete walls as they disappear into the tunnel.

you are left in the near–empty room, the silence returning, heavier than before. you stand up, your ankles wobbling slightly before finding their center. you take a breath, feeling the cold air fill your lungs.

you’ve dreamed of this moment for a lifetime. they might treat you like a ghost, an unwanted shadow on their stage, but you aren’t going to disappear. not yet. you walk toward the tunnel, the blades of your skates clicking against the rubber floor. each step is a declaration. the arena lights grow brighter as you approach the exit, a blinding, welcoming white. you don't know if you’ll ever earn their respect, or if you even want it anymore. all you know is that when you step out onto that ice, you are going to show them exactly why you belong in the same arena.

as you step into the light, the hum of the crowd—distant, massive, and waiting—begins to fill your ears. you let go of the straps of your bag, your hands now resting firmly at your sides, and step onto the ice. it’s smooth, pristine, and perfectly empty.

for the first time today, the world isn't about the girls who sit in the velvet chairs. it’s about you, the blades, and the infinite, frozen possibility beneath your feet. you push off, and for a glorious, fleeting second, the noise of the world—the whispers, the glares, the expectations—vanishes into the rush of wind against your face.

you are here. and you are going to skate.

the arena settles into a hush the moment your name is announced. it isn’t the loud, excited kind of silence reserved for favorites. it’s the quieter one—the kind given to someone unknown. a newcomer. a question mark.

you skate to the center of the rink anyway. the ice gleams beneath the olympic lights, reflecting tiny fragments of silver across your costume. from the corner of your eye, you can see the judges settling into their seats. beyond them, thousands of spectators blur together into a sea of faces.

your heart pounds. once. twice. three times.

then the music begins. a single piano note echoes through the arena. everything else disappears: the locker room. the whispers. the laughter. the dismissive looks. gone. because this has never been about proving yourself to them, it’s about remembering why you fell in love with skating in the first place.

the melody is soft at first, fragile enough to break. it was your mother’s favorite song when you were younger. she used to play it on rainy mornings while making breakfast, humming along as you stumbled around the kitchen in oversized socks.

every time you heard it, you thought of home, of sacrifice, of dreams that seemed impossible. you push forward. your blade cuts cleanly across the ice. the first jump arrives sooner than expected. triple lutz. your body launches upward. for a split second, the world holds its breath. then—landing. clean. perfect.

the audience gasps, not because the jump is impossible, but because it is effortless. you don’t celebrate, you don’t even smile, you simply continue, because this program isn’t about technical difficulty it’s a story and you’re telling it with every movement.

your arms extend toward the rafters as the music swells. your fingers tremble with emotion. every edge is deep and deliberate. every spin flows naturally into the next movement like water finding its path downstream.

the judges lean forward: one of them begins scribbling notes, another raises her eyebrows. they weren’t expecting this. you weren’t supposed to be memorable. yet somehow they can’t look away.

halfway through the program, the music shifts. the piano gives way to strings. warmer. bigger. hopeful.

you skate faster, your confidence grows with every second. triple flip, clean, double axel, clean. combination sequence. clean.

the crowd begins reacting before elements are even finished. there’s a different energy in the arena now: people are paying attention. really paying attention. because what makes the performance special isn’t perfection, it’s sincerity. every movement feels genuine. you aren’t performing at them, you are sharing something with them, and they can feel it.

by the time the final section arrives, your chest is burning and your legs ache, but none of it matters. the music reaches its climax and you think of every freezing morning practice, every injury, every competition where nobody remembered your name, every moment you almost gave up. and then you fly, your final jump rises higher than any before it, the landing sends a crisp spray of ice into the air. clean. absolutely clean.

the audience erupts, but you barely hear it. the final notes begin, slow and gentle. you glide across the rink one last time before sinking into your ending pose.

silence, for a heartbeat, two, three, then the arena explodes. cheers crash over you like a wave. people are standing, clapping, shouting. you blink rapidly, trying not to cry, because for the first time all day, nobody is looking at you like you don’t belong. they’re looking at you like an olympian.

up in the stands, your mother has both hands pressed over her mouth. your father is on his feet. and at the judges’ table, several officials exchange impressed looks before nodding to one another.

you slowly rise from your final pose, breathing hard. only then do your eyes drift toward the entrance tunnel, toward the place where the next competitors are waiting: four familiar figures stand there: karina. giselle. winter. ningning. and for the first time since you arrived in milan, none of them are laughing. none of them are whispering. they’re simply staring, because the unknown rookie they dismissed in the locker room has just given the performance of her life.

and suddenly, you aren’t the question mark anymore, you are the score everyone else has to beat.

the applause for your performance lingers long after you’ve stepped off the ice. you sit in the kiss and cry area, wrapped in your team jacket, hands clasped tightly together as your score is finalized. your pulse still hasn't settled. every few seconds, another replay appears on the giant screen overhead—the clean landings, the emotional step sequence, the final spin that had brought the crowd to its feet.

you try not to look at it. if you do, you’ll cry. instead, your attention drifts toward the entrance tunnel. because everyone knows who comes next: karina. the reigning queen. the favorite. the skater whose name alone can fill arenas.

the lights dim. a murmur spreads through the audience, and then she appears. even from across the rink, she looks unreal. composed. untouchable.

while your performance had felt like a beating heart laid bare for the world to see, karina looks like a masterpiece carved from marble. every movement is measured. every breath controlled. every step deliberate. she glides toward center ice with her chin slightly raised, her posture flawless. there are no visible nerves, no uncertainty, just absolute confidence. the crowd erupts. some fans are already standing before the music even begins. but karina doesn’t acknowledge them, she simply takes her starting position, and waits.

the opening notes arrive. a sweeping orchestral melody fills the arena, instantly, the atmosphere changes. where your music had felt intimate and vulnerable, hers feels grand, regal. like the soundtrack to a kingdom.

she pushes forward. the first stroke alone draws gasps, but it shouldn’t, it’s only skating, yet somehow she makes it look different: her edges are impossibly clean. her body lines stretch forever. every extension of her arms looks intentional, elegant enough to belong in a painting.

she reaches her first jump, a triple lutz. perfect. the landing is so quiet it barely makes a sound. then comes another. and another. each executed with frightening precision.

the judges watch carefully. one of them stops writing altogether. simply observing.

karina moves through the program like she’s following a blueprint only she can see: nothing is wasted. nothing is rushed. there are no frantic moments..no desperate attempts to connect with the audience. everything is under control, completely, utterly. and somehow that’s what makes it captivating.

you find yourself staring despite everything… despite the locker room. despite the cruel comments. because denying her talent would be impossible. she is extraordinary.

the midpoint of the program arrives. a dramatic crescendo swells through the arena. karina launches into her combination, the most difficult pass of her routine.

the crowd collectively holds its breath while watching her: rotation. rotation. rotation. landing. clean. and then the arena explodes. yet karina doesn’t react. not even a smile. she simply continues, like she expected nothing less. the confidence is almost intimidating.

near the judges’ table, several officials exchange impressed glances. their expressions remain professional, but even they can’t hide their admiration: every spin reaches impossible positions. every transition flows seamlessly into the next. every movement seems sharpened to perfection — there is no vulnerability in her performance. no cracks. no hesitation. she isn’t telling the audience who she is, she is showing them exactly why she’s on top.

the final section begins. the music grows larger, more dramatic. and karina matches it effortlessly: she skates with the elegance of someone who has spent years mastering every inch of the ice beneath her blades. you suddenly understand why so many competitors crumble when they face her. it’s not just the technical score. it’s the certainty. the feeling that she belongs here more than anyone else.

the final note arrives. karina sinks into her ending pose. still, graceful, perfect. for one heartbeat, the arena is silent. then thousands of people rise to their feet. the ovation is immediate. thunderous. deserved.

karina stands and offers a small bow, nothing more, but as she turns toward the exit, her eyes briefly find yours across the rink. the moment lasts less than a second, just long enough for you to notice something different, because the dismissive indifference from the locker room is gone. she isn’t looking at you like an inconvenience anymore. she’s looking at you the way champions look at other champions: as competition. and somehow, that feels far more dangerous.

if karina skated like a queen, then giselle skates like a star. the difference becomes obvious the moment she steps onto the ice.

the crowd reacts instantly, not with the respectful awe that followed karina, but with excitement. anticipation. because nobody ever knows exactly what giselle is going to do. and that’s part of what makes her dangerous.

she pushes away from the boards with effortless confidence, rolling her shoulders once as though she’s stepping onto a concert stage instead of the olympic rink. even standing still, she commands attention.

the spotlight seems to follow her naturally. the opening beat of her music drops: a modern arrangement layered with sharp strings and heavy percussion. it shouldn’t work for figure skating, yet somehow it does, because giselle makes it work.

she moves immediately, fast, powerful, confident. there isn’t a single ounce of hesitation in her body. while your performance had drawn people in with emotion, and karina’s with elegance, giselle grabs the audience by the wrist and refuses to let go.

every movement feels intentional. every glance. every turn of her head. every extension of her arm. she isn’t simply skating, she’s performing.

her first jump comes out of nowhere, one moment she’s dancing across the ice. the next she’s airborne. the landing is solid, confident.

the crowd cheers when they feel the emotion that her performance transmits to the audience. giselle flashes the smallest smile,.not enough to break character, just enough to let everyone know she heard them. and suddenly they’re even more invested, because giselle has a way of making people feel involved, as though they’re part of the performance itself.

the music grows louder. she accelerates, her footwork sequence begins, and the arena comes alive. the speed is ridiculous… her blades attack the ice with absolute certainty. every edge change is sharp. every turn precise. yet none of it feels mechanical. it feels natural, like she’s having fun, like she’s enjoying every second of being out there.

you notice audience members leaning forward in their seats: judges watching more carefully. even volunteers stationed near the boards seem unable to look away. giselle has that kind of presence, the ability to pull attention toward herself without ever asking for it.

halfway through the routine, she reaches her most difficult combination. the entire arena seems to tense. you know this element. everyone does. she’s missed it before, rarely, but enough times for people to worry.

giselle takes off. rotation. rotation. rotation. landing. clean. and the reaction is immediate: a wave of applause crashes through the building. for the first time all program, a grin flashes across her face. brief, bright, victorious. the kind of smile that says, “yeah, i know.” and somehow, the confidence doesn’t come across as arrogance, because she’s backing it up. every second of it.

the final section arrives. the music transforms into something explosive. bigger. bolder. and giselle thrives in it, her energy somehow increases despite the demands of the program. the audience is completely under her spell now.

she skates as though she owns the rink, as though every inch of ice belongs to her, the final spin blurs beneath the lights. faster. faster. faster. until the music cuts. giselle stops perfectly on the final note: her chest rises and falls. her hair slightly out of place. her eyes shining.

for a second, nobody moves, then the arena erupts. people are screaming, cheering, standing. the noise is overwhelming. giselle laughs softly and places a hand over her heart before bowing. for the first time today, she looks genuinely happy. not guarded, not cool, just happy.

as she skates toward the exit tunnel, she passes close enough for you to see the faint flush on her cheeks. the adrenaline. the satisfaction. the pride. and when her gaze lands on you, there’s something there that hadn’t existed in the locker room. respect. it lasts only a moment before she looks away, but you catch it. because after your performance, and after hers, one thing has become painfully clear. none of you are skating just for medals anymore. you’re skating to prove who deserves to stand at the very top. and the competition is only getting started.

winter’s name appears on the screen. the reaction from the crowd is immediate, though different from the thunderous excitement that followed giselle. the noise softens. warms. like a collective smile spreading through the arena.

you watch from your seat as she emerges from the tunnel. and for a moment, she doesn’t look like one of the most feared skaters in the world: she looks almost delicate, small beneath the olympic lights. her pale costume catches the glow of the arena, shimmering like freshly fallen snow. the soft colors suit her perfectly. there is nothing loud about her appearance. nothing demanding attention, yet somehow everyone’s eyes find her anyway — winter reaches center ice. she folds her hands behind her back and smiles. it isn’t a performance smile. it isn’t calculated. it’s gentle, genuine, the kind that makes people instinctively smile back.

then the music begins: a piano. soft, simple, beautiful. winter closes her eyes for the briefest moment. and when she starts moving, it feels less like skating and more like floating. the entire arena seems to exhale, there’s a purity to the way she performs: no dramatic gestures. no overwhelming intensity. every movement feels effortless, natural, like she belongs on the ice the same way birds belong in the sky. her edges are deep and smooth, drawing elegant curves across the rink. nothing appears forced. nothing appears difficult. even though you know exactly how difficult it is.

the first jump arrives, winter launches into the air, and lands so softly it almost looks unreal. the audience sighs. actually sighs. because somehow she makes one of the hardest sports in the world look easy, beautiful, weightless.

she continues, gliding through the choreography with a quiet confidence that never asks for attention: while karina commanded the ice, while giselle captivated it, winter seems to become part of it: her performance feels like a snowfall, gentle at first, then impossible to ignore. the longer it continues, the more enchanted the audience becomes. children in the front rows stare with wide eyes. older spectators watch with fond smiles. even the judges appear softer, more relaxed, as though they’ve been invited into a dream.

the music swells..winter spins, her skirt fans outward beneath the lights. for a moment, she looks less like an athlete and more like something from a fairy tale, and yet beneath all that softness lies incredible skill. every landing is secure. every turn precise. every movement polished through years of relentless training.

you remember the comment she made in the locker room: the detached look in her eyes,.the coldness, but watching her now, it’s hard to reconcile that image with the girl on the ice, because here, she looks almost impossibly kind, almost impossibly pure.

the final minute arrives. the piano returns, quiet, fragile. winter’s movements grow smaller, more intimate. she skates as though she's sharing a secret with every person in the building, and nobody wants it to end.

when the final note plays, she slowly lowers herself into her ending position: her fingertips brushing the ice, head bowed, still. the silence afterward feels sacred. nobody moves. nobody breathes. then applause fills the arena, a warm, endless, and heartfelt one.

winter rises, visibly surprised by the volume of it. her smile widens, small and shy. and the crowd only cheers louder. because somehow, despite standing among giants, winter has managed to make the entire olympic arena feel gentle.

and as she skates toward the exit tunnel, you realize something: karina inspires awe. giselle captures attention. but winter makes people care. and thats a power all its own.

and then there is ningning. the moment her name flashes across the giant screen, the energy inside the arena changes. again. because ningning doesn’f command attention like karina. she doesn’t captivate them like giselle. she doesn’t enchant people like winter. ningning makes people excited, she makes them curious, because nobody performs quite like she does.

the crowd erupts before she even reaches center ice. and unlike the others, ningning acknowledges it immediately: a tiny grin appears on her face, mischievous, playful. as if she already knows something everyone else doesn't.

you watch her glide onto the ice: there’s a lightness in the way she moves. a confidence that feels almost effortless. while the other skaters carry themselves with the weight of olympic expectations, ningning somehow looks like she’s having fun. actual fun.

the music begins. bright. dramatic. full of personality. and the second the first note hits, she comes alive. her smile widens. her eyes sparkle beneath the arena lights. she skates with an energy that immediately infects the audience.

people start smiling without realizing it, and you catch judges doing the same, because ningning doesn’t just perform her choreography, she plays with it. every movement has character. every glance has meaning. every gesture feels spontaneous, even though you know every second has been practiced thousands of times.

her first jump is huge, the landing secure, but what stands out isn’t the technique, it’s what happens after. she throws herself straight into the next movement with a grin so bright it sends a ripple of laughter through the crowd. not because she’s being funny, because she’s enjoying herself, and everyone can feel it.

ningning skates like someone who genuinely loves being on the ice. there’s no distance between her and the audience. no wall. she reaches out to them constantly, inviting them into her performance, and they follow willingly.

the music picks up speed. so does she. her footwork sequence becomes a blur of sharp turns and playful musical accents. every beat is matched perfectly. every note answered. it’s as though she's dancing with the music itself.

the crowd reacts louder and louder, completely drawn in. you find yourself smiling too… despite everything. despite the competition. despite the pressure. because watching ningning is impossible not to enjoy. she radiates joy. and joy is contagious.

halfway through the routine, she lands a difficult combination. clean. powerful. and the audience explodes.

ningning’s eyes widen dramatically as though she’s surprised by the reaction, but it’s clearly part of the performance. the crowd laughs, and somehow loves her even more. she’s teasing them, playing with them, making thousands of people feel involved in every second.

the final section arrives: the music grows bigger, bolder. and ningning rises with it. her confidence shines. her charisma fills every corner of the arena. yet she never loses that playful spark. that feeling that she’s sharing something fun rather than proving something.

the final spin accelerates beneath the lights. faster. faster. faster. until her costume becomes a blur of color. then the music crashes into its ending: ningning hits her final pose, and immediately flashes the audience a breathless grin. the arena erupts, people are laughing, cheering, standing. completely won over.because while other skaters make the audience admire them—ningning makes them fall in love with the performance itself.

she bows deeply, still smiling, and skates toward the exit tunnel. for a moment, she catches sight of you watching. her grin softens, just slightly. and for the first time all day, there’s no mockery in her eyes. only excitement. because after four incredible performances, one thing has become obvious.

the olympics aren’t witnessing a single star. they're witnessing five. and nobody knows who will shine brightest when the scores finally appear.

the arena falls silent. for the first time all evening, nobody is talking. nobody is moving. everyone is staring at the massive screen hanging above the rink.

the final results are being calculated. one by one, names appear: karina. giselle. winter. ningning. all of them have delivered extraordinary performances. olympic-worthy performances. the kind people remember for years.

your stomach twists. you’ve stopped trying to guess. stopped trying to hope. you’ve already given everything you had. whatever happens now is out of your hands.

the screen flickers.the announcer receives the final sheet. the crowd collectively holds its breath.

“and the olympic gold medalist is…”

a pause. an eternity. then—your name.

the arena explodes. for a second, nothing makes sense. the words don’t register. they float around you like snowflakes, distant, unreal.

your name remains at the very top of the leaderboard. gold. first place. olympic champion.

you blink once. twice. then your hands fly to your mouth. “oh my god…” your voice breaks. tears immediately blur your vision. somewhere in the audience, your mother is crying openly, your father is hugging complete strangers.

the crowd is on its feet: cheering. applauding. celebrating. but you can barely hear any of it,

because after years of dreaming, after every sacrifice, after every moment you doubted yourself—you did it. you actually did it. the medal ceremony feels like a dream. the lights are brighter. the sounds louder. everything softer around the edges.

you step onto the highest podium, gold resting against your chest, heavy, real, yours. when the anthem begins, you finally break, tears slide freely down your cheeks, and you don’t bother hiding them, there’s no point, not anymore.

when the ceremony ends, you glance toward the other podiums, toward the girls: karina applauds with the same composed elegance she carries everywhere. giselle is clapping. winter is smiling politely. ningning whistles loudly enough to make nearby reporters laugh. they are gracious, professional, respectful, exactly what champions should be. and yet— you can see it. the tiny signs.. the disappointment hidden behind practiced smiles. the frustration. the disbelief. because they didn’t come here expecting to lose, especially not to the rookie they barely noticed this morning.

giselle shakes her head with a small laugh, looking toward the scoreboard as though she’s still processing it. winter smiles, but there's a wistfulness in her eyes. ningning folds her arms for a moment before forcing herself to start clapping again, unable to hide how badly she wanted that gold.

and karina… karina simply stares at the rankings. silent. thoughtful. her silver medal gleams beneath the lights. finally, she looks up, and her gaze finds yours. for a long moment, neither of you says anything. then she nods, once, small, genuine. a champion acknowledging another champion. the gesture means more than any speech could. because beneath the disappointment, beneath the rivalry, beneath the countless hours spent chasing the same dream—they know. all of them know, you earned this. not through luck. not through sympathy. not through circumstance. you earned it with every early morning, every fall, every sacrifice, every impossible leap of faith. today, the olympic gold medal belongs to you, and no one can take that away.

the olympics are over, at least, officially: the cameras have stopped following every step. the interviews are finished. the medals have been awarded. and yet somehow, sitting across from the four girls at the private hotel tucked away in the heart of milan feels far more intimidating than stepping onto olympic ice.

you stare down at your glass of water. the silence stretching across the table is unbearable. it wasn’t supposed to be like this.

when ningning had approached you after the medal ceremony with an invitation to dinner, you'd assumed it was some kind of joke. then karina had joined. then giselle. then winter. and somehow, several hours later, you’re here, sitting with the very people who spent the morning acting like you didn’t belong.

the dining room of the luxury hotel where they are staying is warm and elegant, golden lights reflecting off crystal glasses and polished silverware. outside, snow drifts lazily past the windows.

inside, the tension is thick enough to cut.

“so.” ningning breaks first. of course she does. she leans back in her chair and points at you dramatically. “i’m just gonna say it.”

you nearly choke on your water, without even waiting for her to break the ice with a question that hints at something personal. “what?”

“where the hell did that come from?*

giselle immediately starts laughing. winter covers her mouth. even karina’s lips twitch slightly.

you blink, surprised that they seemed genuinely, or so they appeared, interested in you and your personal life. “my skating?”

“yes, your skating,” ningning says. “you show up looking terrified, barely say two words all day, then suddenly decide to become the main character of the olympics.”

“ning.”

“i’m serious!”

“i noticed,” giselle says, sipping her drink. “the entire arena noticed.”

you look down at the table,.heat creeping into your cheeks. “i just skated.”

“that’s the annoying part.”

you look up: giselle is staring at you. not angrily. not even rudely. just honestly. “you make it sound so simple.”

the table falls quiet again, because everyone understands what she’s really saying. nothing about today was simple.

all five of you spent years fighting for moments measured in minutes. you sacrificed childhoods, friendships, holidays, sleep,.pieces of yourselves, and only one person got to stand at the top.

winter gently traces the rim of her glass. “i hated your score.” you nearly drop your fork, and winter immediately laughs. “not because it wasn’t deserved!”

“winter.”

“i’m being honest.”

she looks at you. her smile sheepish. “when they announced first place, i wanted to be happy for you and throw myself into the nearest wall at the same time.”

giselle bursts out laughing. ningning slams a hand onto the table. “finally! someone said it.”

“ningning!”

“what? we all felt it.”

you stare at them, speechless, because somehow this conversation feels more genuine than anything that's happened all day.

karina remains quiet. watching. listening. and.the others eventually notice too.

ningning points. “see? she's still mad.”

karina raises an eyebrow, without even bothering to react because she wasn’t willing to waste her energy on you. “i’m not mad.”

“liar.”

“i’m disappointed.” there’s a difference. the words land heavily. not cruelly. just truthfully.

karina folds her hands together. “i wanted that gold medal.”

silence. the kind that settles deep. because nobody at the table can pretend otherwise. they all wanted it. badly.

“but,” karina continues, her eyes meeting yours, “if i was going to lose to someone, i suppose losing to the person who skated like that is easier to accept.”

your breath catches..coming from her, that almost feels like an award itself. almost.

ningning immediately groans. “ugh. look at her being mature.”

“someone has to.”

“couldn’t be me.”

winter laughs into her drink. giselle shakes her head. for the first time all evening, the atmosphere begins to loosen. slightly. just enough. yet something strange remains beneath it all, a feeling you can’t quite name. because they are smiling. they are talking. they invited you here. and still… every time your gold medal catches the light where it hangs beside your chair, you notice their eyes drift toward it. just for a second, before looking away again. not resentment. not hatred. something far more complicated. the awareness that all five of you stood on the same ice.

all five of you performed brilliantly. and somehow, impossibly, only one of you left with gold.

the conversation continues late into the night: jokes, stories, arguments about skating, occasional teasing directed at you. yet underneath every smile lies an unspoken promise. the olympics may be over, but the rivalry isn’t. if anything—it’s only just begun.

the atmosphere in the private hotel suite was thick with a tension that had nothing to do with the gourmet food on the table. the dim, warm lighting of the room made everything feel intimate and heavy. karina sat reclined in her chair, looking effortlessly cool in a silk camisole, sipping on a glass of red wine while her dark eyes constantly drifted toward you.

giselle was laughing at something ningning said, her eyes sparkling with mischief, while winter sat slightly more reserved, though the way she kept stealing glances at the group suggested she was just as hungry for the night ahead. the conversation was light, but the subtext was loud; every accidental brush of a hand or lingering gaze felt like a prelude to the chaos planned for later.

karina leaned forward, setting her wine glass down with a soft ‘clink.’ she reached under the table, her hand finding your thigh and squeezing firmly, her thumb tracing small, suggestive circles against your skin.

“so.” karina said, her voice smooth and commanding, drawing everyone’s attention. she flashed that wicked, signature smirk. “we’ve all had a good meal. the energy is high. and we’re all in the same room…” she tilted her head, her eyes locking onto yours with a predatory heat before she scanned the rest of the girls. “who’s ready to stop talking and start playing? because i don’t think any of us can wait much longer.”

the silence that followed your simple, heavy nod was electric. it was the green light they were all waiting for. the tension that had been simmering throughout dinner finally boiled over.

ningning was the first to move, letting out a low, playful giggle as she stood up, her eyes fixed on you. “finally.” she whispered, her voice lacing with anticipation. giselle followed suit, her gaze intense as she reached across the table to squeeze your hand, her touch warm and lingering.

karina didn’t even wait for the others to finish. she stood up, her movements fluid and predatory, and walked around the table until she was standing right behind you. she leaned down, her lips brushing against the shell of your ear, her hands sliding firmly onto your shoulders. “that’s my girl.” karina purred, her voice vibrating against your skin. she looked up at the other four, her expression one of pure, unadulterated dominance. “you heard her. let’s get this party started. i want all of you, and i want (y/n) right at the center of it.”

winter, who had been playing it cool, finally let a hungry smile break her composure as she rose from her seat, the air in the room feeling thick enough to touch. the dinner was forgotten; the only thing that mattered now was the heat radiating between the five of you as you all began to gravitate toward the massive, plush bed in the center of the suite.

the air in the room was thick with anticipation as the five of you moved toward the king sized bed. karina’s hands didn’t leave your shoulders, her grip firm and possessive, guiding you toward the center of the plush mattress. as you sat down, the other girls crowded around, their eyes filled with a shared, hungry intent.

ningning was the first to sink onto the bed beside you, her fingers tracing the hem of your top, while giselle moved to your other side, her gaze intense and unblinking. winter knelt at the foot of the bed, her hands already reaching for your ankles, and karina loomed over all of you, the undisputed leader of this beautiful, chaotic storm.

“don’t be shy now.” karina whispered, her eyes flashing with a predatory heat as she leaned down to capture your lips in a deep, demanding kiss, signaling to the others that the time for waiting was officially over.

the suite was filled with the sound of heavy breathing and the soft, wet sounds of skin meeting skin. karina was completely lost in you, her tongue dancing with yours in a deep, messy kiss that tasted of red wine and pure desire. her hands wandered from your waist to your hair, pulling you closer as if she wanted to merge your bodies together right there — on the other side of the bed, the passion was just as intense. giselle and ningning were tangled together in a heated embrace, their bodies pressing against each other as they traded hungry kisses, their hands roaming freely over each other's curves. the sheer heat of their movements sent waves of electricity through the air.

in the midst of this beautiful, carnal chaos, winter sat slightly apart at the edge of the mattress. she looked small and delicate compared to the others, her eyes wide and shimmering with a mix of awe and overwhelming shyness. she watched the way karina’s lips moved against yours, the way giselle’s hands gripped ningning, and the way all the light caught the curves of your bodies. she bit her lip, her cheeks flushed a deep crimson, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps as she took in the sight of her friends being so uninhibited.

karina, even while lost in your kiss, was acutely aware of everything happening in the room. she pulled back from you just an inch, a thin string of saliva connecting your lips, her eyes dark and hooded. she glanced over at winter, seeing the shy girl watching them like a deer in headlights. with a predatory smirk, karina reached out one hand, her fingers grazing your cheek while her other hand beckoned winter closer. “don’t just sit there and watch, winter,” karina teased, her voice a low, gravelly command that left no room for argument. she looked back at you, her eyes smoldering. “come here, baby. there’s more than enough of us to go around, and (y/n) wants to see you too.”

karina’s gaze flickered from winter back to you, her eyes practically glowing with a wicked sort of triumph. she didn’t wait for winter to find her courage; instead, she reached out and grabbed the hem of winter’s shirt, gently but firmly tugging her toward the center of the bed where you were waiting. “come on, sweetie.” karina whispered, her voice a velvety lure. (y/n) is waiting for you. don’t make her wait too long.”

as winter crawled closer, her face still burning with a shy heat, ningning and giselle broke their own embrace to watch, their eyes gleaming with excitement at the sight of the shy girl finally joining the fray. the circle was closing, the heat was rising, and the night was only just beginning to unfold in a beautiful, tangled mess of limbs and longing.

“... can i eat her out? please?” the room seemed to go silent for a split second as winter’s shy, quiet voice cut through the heavy air. it was so unexpected, so blunt coming from the girl who had been watching from the sidelines with wide, blushing eyes. the sheer honesty of her desire sent a jolt of electricity through everyone present.

karina let out a loud, wicked laugh, her eyes lighting up with pure delight. she loved this the sudden shift from innocence to raw hunger. she leaned back on her elbows, her gaze sweeping over winter’s flushed face with intense approval. “god, jeongie... you’ve been hiding a hungry little mouth under all that shyness, haven’t you?” karina purred, her voice dripping with praise. she looked at you, her eyes flashing with a challenge and a promise. “hear that, (y/n)? our little minjeongie wants a taste of you.”

giselle and ningning, still tangled together, both let out low whistles of approval. ningning leaned forward, her eyes dancing with mischief. “go on then, winter! don’t let us keep you waiting. we know you want to!”

karina reached out, her hand sliding behind winter’s head, her fingers tangling in the girl’s hair to guide her. she didn’t pull her, but the gesture was commanding, directing the shy girl’s attention exactly where it needed to be. “spread your legs for her, baby.” karina whispered to you, her voice a sultry command as she watched with predatory anticipation. she wanted to see the moment winter finally lost her shyness and surrendered to the heat.

winter, emboldened by the encouragement and the heavy, sexual tension in the room, crawled forward on her hands and knees. her face was still bright red, but her eyes were fixed on you with a newfound, singular focus. she moved between your thighs, her breath warm against your skin as she hovered there, waiting for your signal to finally dive in.

karina leaned closer to you, her lips brushing your temple as she watched winter’s every move. “show her what she’s working with, (y/n)... let her eat until she’s satisfied.”

winter didn’t hesitate any longer. driven by a sudden burst of courage, she leaned in, her lips finally making contact with your soft, sensitive skin. a small, shaky gasp escaped her as she began to work her tongue with a surprising, desperate intensity, her shyness melting away into pure, focused devotion. she was thorough, her movements rhythmic and eager, as if she were trying to make up for every moment she had spent just watching.

karina let out a low, appreciative moan at the sight, her hand sliding down from your temple to rest firmly on your hip, her fingers digging into your skin as she watched winter worship you. the sight of the shyest girl in the group being so uninhibited was driving karina wild.

“look at her go…” karina whispered, her voice thick with lust. she leaned down, her lips finding the sensitive skin of your neck, biting softly as she felt you tremble under winter’s touch. “she’s a natural, (y/n). and she’s just getting started.”

on your other side, giselle and ningning had moved closer, their eyes glued to the scene. ningning reached out, her fingers grazing your stomach, her gaze dark and heavy with desire. the air in the room was thick, heavy with the scent of arousal and the overwhelming heat of five women completely lost in the moment. the boundaries between you were blurring, and as winter continued her task, you could feel the hunger of the others rising to meet yours.

your silence was the loudest thing in the room. you didn’t need to say a word; the way your back arched off the mattress, the way your fingers tangled into winter’s hair to pull her even closer, and the soft, broken whimpers escaping your throat told them everything they needed to know. you were lost in it, and you wanted more.

karina saw the way your eyes fluttered shut, saw the sheer pleasure written across your face as winter’s tongue worked magic on you. a dark, possessive hunger flared in karina’s chest. she wasn’t about to let you have all the fun alone.

“you like that, don’t you?” karina growled against your skin, her voice vibrating through your entire body. she moved from your neck to your lips, reclaiming them in a kiss that was far more aggressive than before, tasting the heat of your arousal on your tongue. she was marking you, letting you know that while winter was worshiping you, karina was the one in control.

seeing you so undone was the final straw for the others. giselle and ningning, seeing your reaction, moved in like predators. giselle slid up beside your head, her hands roaming over your breasts, her thumbs teasing your nipples through your top, while ningning moved to your side, her lips finding the sensitive curve of your waist, her hands sliding down to join winter in exploring your thighs.

the bed was a sea of tangled limbs, soft skin, and heavy, desperate breathing. you were the center of a beautiful, overwhelming storm of sensation. every inch of your body was being touched, kissed, and tasted. the shy winter had transformed into a force of nature, her movements becoming more confident and rhythmic, driven by the sounds of your pleasure.

karina pulled back just enough to look you in the eyes, her gaze smoldering and predatory. she reached down, her hand sliding between your thigh and winter’s face, her fingers brushing against the wetness they were both creating.

“look at us, (y/n).” karina commanded, her voice a low, sultry rasp. she wanted you to see the hunger in all of their eyes, to see the way they were all completely consumed by you. “look at how much we want you. we’re not stopping until you’re completely spent.”

as if to prove her point, giselle leaned down to kiss your neck, her tongue tracing the same path karina had just taken, while ningning’s hands moved higher, her touch light and teasing, driving you toward the edge. the sensation was too much a beautiful, chaotic overload of pleasure that left you breathless, your messy hair spread wildly across the pillows like a halo of beauty in the dim light.

the sheer intensity of it was overwhelming. every nerve ending in your body felt like it was on fire, electrified by the synchronized attention of the four women surrounding you. karina’s dominant kisses, winter’s fervent, rhythmic worship, and the teasing, expert hands of giselle and ningning created a symphony of pleasure that pushed you closer and closer to the brink.

as the tension reached a fever pitch, karina pulled back from your lips, her breathing as ragged as yours. she looked down at your flushed face, her eyes dark with a triumphant, possessive heat. “that’s it, baby... give in to us,” she whispered, her voice a command that echoed the primal need in the room.

with a final, coordinated surge of passion, the room dissolved into a blur of sensation. you felt yourself arching, your voice catching in a silent scream of ecstasy as the pleasure finally crested, a wave of pure, unadulterated bliss that crashed over you and left you trembling in the arms of the women who had claimed you so completely. in the quiet, heavy aftermath, as the five of you lay tangled together in a heap of sweat slicked skin and heavy breathing, the air was still thick with the scent of desire, a silent testament to the beautiful, chaotic night you had all shared.

the moment you finished, the energy in the room didn’t dip; it shifted. the focus of the storm moved from you to the two girls who had been watching with predatory patience. giselle and ningning shared a knowing, wicked glance, their eyes dark with a shared hunger that had been building since the first kiss of the night.

karina, ever the director of this beautiful chaos, didn’t miss a beat. she slid back, propping herself up on her elbows to get a perfect view, her eyes gleaming with sadistic delight. she loved watching her friends devour each other just as much as she loved devouring you.

“my turn to watch the show,” karina purred, her voice thick with satisfaction. she reached out and traced a finger along your sweat slicked cheek, keeping you close as the focus shifted. “don’t go to sleep yet, (y/n). the best part is just starting.”

giselle and ningning moved with a synchronized grace, their bodies already humming with heat. they didn’t need words. giselle grabbed ningning by the waist, pulling her flush against her, while ningning’s hands immediately found the hem of giselle’s top, tugging it upward with an impatient, hungry energy — the transition was seamless. one moment they were teasing you, and the next, they were a whirlwind of motion directed at each other. they tumbled onto the center of the bed, their limbs tangling in a frantic, desperate dance. giselle’s lips were everywhere on ningning’s neck, her collarbone, her breasts while ningning responded with fierce, biting kisses and low, guttural moans that echoed through the quiet suite.

the sound of their passion was intoxicating. giselle was dominant, her hands gripping ningning’s hips with a possessive strength as she drove them both toward the edge, while ningning was a whirlwind of sensation, her legs wrapping tightly around giselle’s waist, pulling her closer as if she could never be close enough. their voices rose in a duet of soft cries and sharp gasps, creating a rhythm that pulsed through the entire room.

karina leaned over you, her gaze never wavering from the spectacle. she reached down, her fingers finding yours and lacing them together, her thumb stroking your knuckles in a slow, grounding motion that contrasted with the wild energy of the other two. she leaned in, her lips hovering just an inch from yours, her breath hot and smelling of the wine they’d shared.

“look at them, (y/n).” karina whispered, her voice a dark, sultry velvet. she nudged your chin up so you had no choice but to watch giselle’s lips sink into ningning’s neck. “they’re losing their minds. and soon, we’re all going to lose ours.”

as the intensity of giselle and ningning’s encounter reached its peak, the air in the suite felt heavy, almost tangible, with the sheer force of their shared release. the bed shook slightly with the force of their movements, and as they finally collapsed into a heap of tangled limbs and heavy breathing, the silence that followed was not empty, it was filled with the lingering electricity of their climax. the night was far from over, but the foundation of desire had been laid, and as karina’s eyes turned back to you with a predatory, unquenchable hunger, you knew the real storm was still brewing.

your silence was a heavy, breathless invitation. you lay there, your skin still tingling and sensitive from the onslaught of pleasure, your messy hair fanned out like a beautiful and soft silk stain against the white pillows. your eyes were half lidded, glazed with a mixture of exhaustion and a deep, unquenchable hunger that hadn’t been fully sated yet. karina saw it. she always saw it. she saw the way your chest rose and fell in shallow, jagged breaths, and the way your gaze drifted toward her, pleading and demanding all at once. a slow, dark smirk pulled at the corners of her lips the look of a woman who knew she had exactly what she wanted, and was about to take it.

“still hungry, baby?” karina whispered, her voice a low, dangerous vibration. she didn’t wait for an answer. she leaned down, her body hovering over yours, her weight a delicious pressure that grounded you. she captured your lips in a kiss that was slow, deep, and incredibly possessive, tasting the lingering heat of the night on your tongue.

as she kissed you, the others began to stir. the exhaustion was there, but the adrenaline was stronger. giselle and ningning, still tangled and slick with sweat, pulled themselves apart just enough to crawl toward the center of the bed. winter, no longer the shy observer, moved with a newfound purpose, her eyes fixed on you with a quiet, intense devotion.

the bed became a crowded, beautiful landscape of soft skin and heated breath. karina was the anchor, her hands roaming your body with a practiced, dominant grace, while the others converged on you like a tide. giselle’s lips found the curve of your shoulder, ningning’s hands began to roam your thighs again, and winter settled close to your side, her warmth a comforting, steady presence — it was a beautiful, overwhelming sensory overload. you were surrounded on all sides by the scent of perfume, sweat, and pure arousal. every time you thought you had reached your limit, a new touch, a new kiss, or a new whispered word from one of them pushed you just a little bit further.

karina pulled back just enough to look you in the eyes, her dark gaze burning into yours. she reached down, her fingers lacing through yours, pinning your hand to the pillow as she leaned in to whisper against your lips. “we’re not letting you go anywhere tonight, (y/n).” she promised, her voice thick with a predatory promise. “we’re going to keep you right here, in the middle of us, until the sun comes up.”

and as the five of you merged into one singular, pulsing entity of desire, the world outside the hotel suite ceased to exist. there was only the heat, the rhythm, and the intoxicating, endless dance of five women lost in each other.

the atmosphere in the room shifted from chaotic to intensely focused. karina, ever the one to take command and push the boundaries of pleasure, decided it was time to claim her prize in the most dominant way possible. with a wicked, knowing look shared between her and the other girls, she moved with a predatory grace, crawling up your body until she was positioned directly over your face. the weight of her was a delicious, heavy pressure, her hips settling firmly against your cheeks. you could feel the heat radiating from her skin, the scent of her expensive perfume and the faint, intoxicating musk of arousal filling your senses. she looked down at you, her dark hair falling like a silken curtain around both of your faces, creating a private, darkened world just for the two of you.

“you’ve been such a good girl, (y/n).” karina purred, her voice vibrating through her thighs and directly into your jawline. she leaned forward slightly, her hands planting firmly on either side of your head, pinning you to the plush mattress. her eyes were hooded, dark, and filled with an unquenchable hunger. “now, it’s time to show you exactly how much we appreciate you.”

as she slowly lowered herself, the sensation was overwhelming. the softness of her skin against your lips and nose, the intense heat of her, and the sheer dominance of her position left you breathless. you could feel the dampness of her arousal, a slick, heady invitation that demanded your attention. karina wasn’t just sitting there; she was claiming you, her movements deliberate and teasing as she ground her hips in a slow, rhythmic motion against your mouth.

the other girls watched, mesmerized. giselle and ningning leaned in closer, their eyes wide with anticipation, while winter sat perched on the edge of the bed, her breath hitching at the sight. they were all caught in the gravitational pull of karina’s dominance and your silent, hungry submission.

karina reached down, her fingers tangling in your sweaty and messy hair, pulling your head back just enough to expose your throat before guiding you back to her. she began to move with a more insistent rhythm, her hips rolling in a way that forced you to taste her, to breathe her in. every time you tried to gasp for air, she would shift just enough to let you in, only to press back down with a renewed, commanding intensity.

“taste me, (y/n).” she commanded, her voice a low, gravelly rasp that sent shivers racing down your spine. “don’t miss a single drop. show me how much you want it.”

the sensation was an incredible, overwhelming overload. the warmth, the taste, the scent, and the sheer, raw power of her sitting atop you made your head spin. you were lost in the rhythm of her, your hands reaching up to grip her hips, your fingers digging into her skin as you desperately tried to keep up with the delicious, demanding pace she set. the world outside the bed disappeared, replaced entirely by the heat of karina’s body and the primal, intoxicating dance of her hips against your face.

as her movements grew faster and more frantic, karina let out a low, guttural moan, her head falling back as she surrendered to the sensation of your tongue working against her. she gripped your hair tighter, her knuckles white, guiding your mouth with a desperate, uninhibited hunger. the other girls were practically breathless, watching the display of dominance and devotion with wide, hungry eyes.

“yes... just like that.” karina gasped, her voice breaking as she neared her peak. she ground herself down against you one last time, a powerful, rhythmic surge that felt like it would shatter you both.

while karina was busy asserting her dominance above you, claiming your mouth and your breath, the heat beneath you was just as intense. giselle, who had been watching with a hungry, focused gaze, decided she wasn’t going to let you be the only one being worshipped. she slid down the bed, her movements fluid and purposeful, until she was positioned between your thighs.

the sensation was a dizzying, dual assault on your senses. above, you were drowning in the intoxicating taste and scent of karina; below, you were being met with the expert, feverish hunger of giselle. as giselle pressed her face against you, the warmth of her breath sent a fresh jolt of electricity straight to your core.

giselle didn’t hesitate. she leaned in, her lips parting as she made first contact with your sensitive skin. unlike the shy, hesitant movements of winter, giselle was a pro; she was confident, assertive, and knew exactly how to drive a girl insane. her tongue was long and firm, tracing the delicate lines of your anatomy with a rhythmic, sweeping motion that made your hips buck instinctively against the mattress.

she let out a low, appreciative hum against your skin, a sound that vibrated through your entire lower body. her hands reached up, her long fingers gripping your thighs and spreading them even wider, anchoring you so she could get deeper, more intimate. she began to focus on your most sensitive spot, her tongue flicking with a precise, relentless intensity that felt like liquid fire.

the contrast was overwhelming. you were caught in a pincer maneuver of pure pleasure. karina’s weight on your face provided a heavy, grounding pressure, her hips grinding rhythmically against your lips, while giselle’s mouth was a whirlwind of wet, swirling sensations below. every time you tried to moan, the sound was muffled by karina, only to be echoed by the sharp, needy gasps escaping your throat as giselle found a particularly sensitive nerve.

giselle’s technique was masterful. she used a combination of soft, teasing licks and deep, demanding suction that left you seeing stars. she could feel the way your muscles were twitching, the way your breath was hitching in sync with her movements. she leaned into it, her nose brushing against you, her entire focus narrowed down to the taste of you and the way you reacted to her every move.

karina, feeling the tremors running through your body, leaned down even further, her chest pressing against your face as she looked down at giselle’s work. a dark, triumphant grin spread across her face. she reached down, her fingers lacing into your sweaty hair, her other hand reaching down to guide giselle’s head, pressing her even closer to you.

“look at you, (y/n)...” karina whispered, her voice a husky, distorted growl through the heat of her own body. “getting devoured from both sides. you’re taking it so well... such a greedy little thing.”

the room was a symphony of wet sounds, heavy breathing, and the frantic heartbeat of five women pushed to their absolute limits. you were the epicenter of a storm of sensation, trapped between the commanding dominance of karina and the expert, ravishing hunger of giselle, as the world dissolved into a blur of pure, unadulterated ecstasy.

the sensory overload was now absolute. you were no longer a person; you were a vessel of pure sensation, a living nerve ending caught in a beautiful, erotic crossfire. as karina dominated your mouth and giselle worshipped your core, the upper half of your body was claimed by the others, ensuring that not a single inch of you was left untouched.

winter, the shy girl who had finally found her courage, and ningning, the playful provocateur, moved in on your chest. they worked in a frantic, hungry tandem, their bodies pressing against your sides as they leaned in to claim your breasts.

ningning was the first to make her mark. she didn’t hold back, her lips finding one nipple and taking it into her mouth with a sudden, demanding suction. she used her teeth just enough to send sharp, electric jolts through your chest, her hands roaming up to squeeze your breasts, kneading the soft flesh with a desperate, playful energy. she let out a low, satisfied moan against your skin, her tongue swirling around the peak in a way that made your toes curl.

on your other side, winter was more tender, yet just as intense. her touch was soft, almost reverent, as she cupped your breast in her small hands. she leaned in, her lips grazing your skin before she began to suckle with a slow, rhythmic devotion. her tongue was warm and wet, tracing the underside of your breast before focusing on the tip, her movements gentle yet incredibly focused, as if she were trying to memorize the taste of you.

the sensation was maddening. you were being pulled in four different directions by four different styles of pleasure. the sharp, biting hunger of ningning on one side, the soft, worshipful suction of winter on the other, the heavy, commanding weight of karina on your face, and the relentless, expert tongue of giselle between your legs. every breath you took was a struggle, every gasp a plea for more.

karina, feeling the frantic movements of the other girls, leaned down, her face inches from yours. she could hear the wet, slapping sounds of winter and ningning’s mouths on your skin, the heavy breathing of giselle, and the muffled, desperate sounds coming from your own throat. a look of pure, unadulterated triumph crossed her face.

“god, look at you…” karina groaned, her voice thick with lust as she felt the vibrations of your pleasure through her own body. she reached down, her hands moving to grab winter and ningning by their hair, pulling them even tighter against you, forcing them to deepen their assault. “don’t stop! eat her! i want her to feel every single one of you!”

the bed was a battlefield of desire. the air was thick with the scent of arousal and the frantic, rhythmic sounds of five women lost in a singular, carnal purpose. you were the sun, and they were all orbiting you, caught in a gravitational pull of pure, uninhibited ecstasy. as the intensity climbed toward an impossible peak, the boundaries between your bodies and theirs began to vanish, leaving only the heat, the taste, and the overwhelming, beautiful chaos of the night.

the peace was short–lived. the moment you thought you had found a moment to breathe, the hunger in the room surged back to life. the girls weren’t finished with you not by a long shot. they were like predators who had tasted blood and were now driven by an insatiable, collective craving.

giselle, her eyes dark and dilated with a renewed sense of purpose, didn’t let you settle. she moved with a smooth, predatory grace, crawling up the bed until she was hovering over you once more. she looked down at you with a smirk that was both beautiful and dangerous, her skin still slick and glowing from her previous climax.

“don’t get too comfortable, baby.” giselle whispered, her voice a low, sultry command. without waiting for a response, she lowered herself down. the weight of her was a heavy, delicious pressure, her hips settling firmly over your nose and mouth. she positioned herself perfectly, her heat pressing directly against your lips, inviting you back into her world of sensation.

but she wasn’t the only one claiming you. ningning, ever the one to crave contact and mischief, slid down to your side. she didn’t want to be a spectator anymore; she wanted to be part of the friction. she moved between your legs, her body pressing tightly against your thigh, and began to rub her own swollen, aching cunt directly against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh and the edge of your hip.

the sensation was a dizzying, dual layered assault. above, you were being smothered by the intoxicating scent and weight of giselle, her hips beginning to grind in a slow, demanding rhythm that forced you to breathe her in. below, ningning was a constant, pulsing friction, her wetness smearing against you as she moved her hips in a frantic, rhythmic dance, seeking the relief only your body could provide.

karina, watching from just above, let out a low, appreciative groan. she reached down, her hands finding your waist to steady you, her fingers digging into your skin as she watched the spectacle. she leaned down, her lips brushing against your ear, her voice a heated, ragged whisper.

“look at you... caught in the middle of it all again.” karina teased, her breath hot against your skin. “giselle wants you to worship her, and ningning wants to melt into you. you’re the center of our whole world right now, (y/n).”

the room was filled with the sounds of intense, rhythmic friction the wet, slapping sound of giselle’s hips against your face, the soft, desperate gasps of ningning as she rubbed herself against you, and your own muffled, frantic moans as you tried to navigate the overwhelming sensation. you were being squeezed, rubbed, and smothered in a beautiful, erotic vice.

giselle began to increase the pace, her movements becoming more aggressive, more desperate. she was no longer just sitting; she was riding the sensation of your mouth, her hips rolling in deep, heavy circles that made your head swim. meanwhile, ningning’s movements became more frantic, her breath coming in short, sharp hitches as she pressed herself harder against you, her desire reaching a fever pitch.

you were trapped in a beautiful, carnal loop of pleasure, a prisoner to their hunger, and as the heat rose once more, you knew that the night was far from over. the storm wasn‘t passing; it was just gathering strength for a second, even more violent, wave of ecstasy.

the sensation of giselle’s heavy, rhythmic grinding against your lips, combined with the frantic, wet friction of ningning’s body against your hip, pushed you toward a state of sensory delirium. you were drowning in them in their scent, their heat, and their unyielding demand for your attention. every time you tried to draw a breath, giselle would press down harder, her hips rolling in deep, punishingly perfect circles that forced you to taste her essence, while ningning’s desperate, rhythmic rubbing sent waves of electricity through your entire lower half.

“yes... just like that, ningning! use her!” karina’s voice rose in a triumphant, jagged command, her hands moving from your waist to your hair, pulling your head back slightly to give you a clearer view of the chaos. she was watching the way giselle’s skin glided against yours, the way ningning was practically vibrating with the need to reach her own peak.

the tension in the room became a physical weight, thick and suffocatingly erotic. you could feel the moment the threshold was crossed. giselle’s movements suddenly became sharp, frantic, and uncoordinated as she gripped your shoulders, her back arching as a silent, powerful tremor tore through her. simultaneously, ningning let out a high, broken cry, her hips slamming against you one last time before she collapsed against your side, her body shuddering in the throes of a violent, beautiful release.

as giselle finally slumped forward, her weight pressing you deep into the mattress, the world seemed to explode in a final, blinding flash of pure sensation. you were caught in the crossfire of their dual climaxes, the sheer intensity of their shared ecstasy pulling you over the edge of a cliff you hadn’t even realized you were climbing. your body bucked, your vision blurred, and for a few long, breathless seconds, there was nothing in the universe but the heat of their skin and the overwhelming, divine chaos of the moment.

the room was still thick with the heavy, sweet scent of spent passion. you lay there, your chest heaving, your skin flushed and slick with sweat, feeling like you had been through a beautiful, erotic war. your voice, though a little raspy from the muffled cries, cut through the quiet of the suite like a spark in a powder keg.

“are we done? or what’s next?”

the question hung in the air, provocative and daring. the other girls, who had been drifting in the hazy afterglow of their own climaxes, all snapped their heads toward you. the exhaustion was there, but your hunger that unquenchable, hazy eyed fire was clearly still burning.

karina, who was still draped partially over you, let out a low, dark chuckle that vibrated against your skin. a slow, dangerous grin spread across karina’s face. she loved that you were asking. it meant the hunger hadn’t been extinguished; it had only been stoked into a wildfire. she lifted her head, her hair a messy, beautiful halo around her face, her eyes smoldering with a renewed, predatory intensity. she looked at the other girls, a silent communication passing between them. the “afterglow” was officially over; the hunt was back on.

“what’s next?” karina repeated, her voice a sultry, dangerous purr. she leaned down, her lips brushing against your ear, her breath hot and teasing. “you really are a greedy little thing, aren't you? most girls would be begging for sleep, but you... you want more.”

giselle, still flushed from her release, propped herself up on one elbow, a wicked smirk playing on her lips. she reached out and traced the line of your jaw with a finger. “i think we know what’s next” she whispered, her gaze dropping to your lips.

ningning, ever the playful one, sat up and began to crawl toward you, her eyes dancing with mischief. “we haven’t even gotten to the best part yet,” she teased, her hands already reaching for the hem of your shirt again. “we’ve been taking turns, but maybe it’s time we all... work together.”

winter, who had been quiet, watched the shift in energy with wide, sparkling eyes. the shyness was still there, but it was being overtaken by a desperate, eager curiosity. she moved closer, her hand tentatively reaching out to touch your arm, her touch light and electric.

karina sat up fully then, her gaze sweeping over the group, her expression one of pure, unadulterated command. she was the queen of this chaos, and she was about to orchestrate the grand finale. “next,” karina said, her voice dropping to a commanding, velvety low, “is a complete surrender. no more taking turns. no more watching from the sidelines. we’re going to lose ourselves in you, (y/n). all of us. at once.”

she looked at giselle and ningning, a silent command in her eyes. they moved instantly, positioning themselves on either side of you. she looked at winter, beckoning her forward with a tilt of her head. finally, karina’s eyes locked onto yours, dark and filled with a promise of something even more intense, more overwhelming, and more beautiful than anything you had experienced so far. “get ready, baby.” karina whispered, a slow, triumphant grin spreading across her face as she began to lean back down toward you. “because we’re about to show you exactly what ‘next’ looks like.”

the air in the room seemed to thicken as the focus shifted. while the other girls were loud, aggressive, and demanding, winter remained a quiet, shimmering presence at the edge of the bed. she was watching you with an intensity that was almost unnerving a silent, wide eyed devotion that felt like a prayer. she hadn’t quite found her voice in the chaos, but her eyes were screaming for you.

karina, sensing the unspoken tension, let out a soft, knowing hum. she nudged winter with her shoulder, her voice a teasing whisper. “don’t just sit there being a good girl, winter. she’s practically begging for you. go on... show her that quiet side of yours has some teeth.”

winter’s breath hitched. a deep, rosy flush crept up her neck and flooded her cheeks. she looked at you, her puppy eyes searching yours for permission, and when she saw the hunger in your green eyes, she finally moved. she crawled forward with a hesitant, graceful elegance, her movements almost feline as she settled between your legs.

as you reached out, pulling her closer, the dynamic changed. where giselle had been fierce and ningning had been playful, winter was... profound. when you leaned down, your lips finally meeting her skin, she let out a sound that was less of a moan and more of a soft, broken sob of relief.

you began to worship her, your tongue tracing the sensitive skin of her inner thighs before finding her center. the moment your mouth made contact, winter’s entire body jolted. her fingers flew to your soft hair, not pulling with dominance like karina, but clutching you with a desperate, trembling need, as if you were the only thing keeping her grounded.

as you worked your tongue against her, your fingers sliding inside her to find her rhythm, winter’s quietness transformed into something much more primal. she wasn’t loud, but she was vocal in a way that felt more intimate: small, sharp gasps, the rhythmic catching of her breath, and the way she whispered your name like a secret between the two of you.

the sensation of your fingers stretching her, the wet, rhythmic suction of your mouth, and the sheer intensity of her focus on you created a bubble of intimacy in the middle of the crowded bed. you could feel her pulsing around your fingers, her muscles twitching in anticipation of the release you were expertly coaxing out of her.

karina, giselle, and ningning had slowed their own movements, leaning in close to watch. they were mesmerized by the sight of you, the girl with the fiery and beautiful hair, completely lost in the act of devouring the quietest member of their group. they watched the way your hands worked, the way your eyes stayed focused on her face, and the way winter’s expression shifted from shy hesitation to pure, unadulterated ecstasy.

winter’s head fell back against the pillows, her eyes fluttering shut as she neared the edge. her hands tightened in your hair, her hips beginning to lift off the bed in an instinctive search for more pressure. “(y/n)...” she whimpered, her voice a tiny, beautiful wreck of sound. “please... don’t stop... please…”

the room was silent except for the wet sounds of your devotion and the frantic, shallow breathing of the girl beneath you. you were the one in control now, the silent architect of her pleasure, driving her toward a climax that felt as sacred as it was carnal.

the intimate bubble you had created with winter was suddenly, deliciously breached. just as you were driving winter toward the edge, your tongue working in perfect tandem with your fingers, a new heat pressed against your backside. you felt a pair of soft, eager hands slide around your waist, pulling your hips back toward a new source of hunger: ningning, never one to stay on the sidelines for long, had decided she wanted a taste of the main course. with a playful, mischievous giggle that vibrated against your skin, she maneuvered herself behind you. she didn’t wait for an invitation; she simply dove in, her lips finding the sensitive junction of your thighs from behind.

the sensation was a staggering, multi directional assault. from the front, you were still deep in the rhythmic, worshipful devotion of winter, whose quiet whimpers were turning into frantic, breathless gasps as you continued to tease her. but now, from behind, ningning was attacking your heat with a completely different energy. she was all teeth and tongue, her movements quick, wet, and incredibly teasing.

ningning’s tongue flicked against your clit with a rapid, staccato rhythm that contrasted sharply with winter’s slow, deep suction. she was playing you like an instrument, her hands reaching around to squeeze your breasts or knead your hips, driving you into a frenzy of sensation. the dual stimulation was almost too much to bear; you were caught in a pincer maneuver of pure, unadulterated pleasure.

“oh god...” you gasped, your head lolling back. you were trapped between two different worlds: the soft, reverent ecstasy of winter in front of you, and the wild, uninhibited hunger of ningning behind you.

karina, watching this spectacular display from above, let out a low, predatory growl of approval. she reached down, her hands gripping your hips to steady you as you bucked under the dual onslaught. “that’s it! get her! both of you!” she commanded, her voice thick with lust. she leaned down, her lips brushing your shoulder, her eyes dark as she watched you being devoured.

the room was a cacophony of pleasure: the wet, rhythmic sounds of her mouth working on you, the frantic gasps of winter as she neared her peak, and the low, triumphant moans of the other girls. you felt like you were being pulled apart by two different tides, your body arching and trembling as you struggled to process the sheer volume of sensation.

ningning’s tongue became even more insistent, her suction deepening as she felt you beginning to tremble. she was chasing your climax, her movements becoming more frantic, more desperate. at the same time, winter’s hands tightened in your hair, her hips beginning to roll in a desperate, rhythmic search for the final release you were providing.

you were the epicenter of a beautiful, erotic storm, caught in a collision of two different kinds of passion, and as the tension reached a breaking point, you knew that the explosion was only seconds away.

“oh god...” you gasped, your head lolling back, eyes rolling back into your head. you were trapped between two entirely different worlds: the soft, reverent ecstasy of winter in front of you, and the wild, uninhibited hunger of ningning behind you. the air in the room seemed to crackle and weigh down with the sheer volume of arousal.

karina, watching the scene unfold from above, was practically vibrating with tension. she didn’t just watch; she participated, her fingers digging into your hips, pulling you back against ningning even more firmly. she leaned down, her voice a low, guttural whisper that cut through the sounds of wetness and gasping. “look at you... being taken care of from both sides. do you feel that, (y/n)? how much they want you?”

every time you tried to focus on winter, ningning’s tongue would snap back into place, stealing your attention with a sudden, sharp flick of pleasure. and every time you tried to lean back into ningning, winter’s desperate, needy whines would draw you back down. you were the bridge between them, the source of their shared hunger, and the pressure was becoming unbearable.

the world didn’t just blur; it shattered. you were no longer a person, but a raw, pulsing nerve ending caught in a violent collision of pleasure. the dual assault was too much, a beautiful, agonizing overload that pushed your nervous system to the absolute brink.

from the front, winter’s quiet, worshipful devotion reached a fever pitch. as your fingers worked deep inside her and your tongue maintained that steady, rhythmic pressure, she let out a sharp, high pitched cry, a sound of pure, uninhibited surrender. her body stiffened, her back arching so hard it felt like she might break, her internal muscles clamping around your fingers in a series of frantic, rhythmic spasms that sent a jolt of sympathetic electricity straight into your own core.

but before you could even process winter’s release, ningning’s hunger from behind slammed into you like a tidal wave. sensing you were on the precipice, ningning abandoned all teasing. she became relentless, her tongue a blurring, frantic machine of wet heat, her suction so intense it felt like she was trying to pull your very soul out of you. she was chasing your peak with a predatory ferocity, her hands gripping your hips so hard her knuckles were white.

the two climaxes collided within you. the soft, trembling ecstasy of qinter and the wild, jagged fire of ningning merged into one singular, earth shattering explosion. your vision went white. your lungs seized. a long, silent scream died in your throat as your body bucked uncontrollably, your hips slamming back against ningning while your head thrashed against the pillow.

you were drowning in the sensation of your own release, the intense, pulsing contractions of your walls, the heat of their mouths, the weight of karina’a hands anchoring you to the bed. it felt as though you were being torn apart and put back together all at once.

karina, seeing you break, let out a triumphant, guttural roar. she didn’t just watch; she leaned down and captured your mouth in a deep, bruising kiss, her tongue tangling with yours as if she were trying to drink in your very essence. she was the conductor of this madness, her body vibrating in sync with your frantic tremors.

as the intense waves of your orgasm finally began to ebb into a slow, heavy throb, the room fell into a state of beautiful, exhausted wreckage. the only sounds were the ragged, desperate gasps of five women, the wet slapping of skin, and the heavy, humid air of the suite.

ningning finally slowed, her forehead resting against your lower back, her breath hot and shaky. winter collapsed beside you, her eyes glazed and beautiful, her chest heaving in synchronization with yours. karina remained draped over you, her weight a comforting, heavy presence that kept you from floating away into the ether.

you lay there, a beautiful, broken mess of sweaty hair and flushed skin, completely spent. the silence that followed was thick, heavy with the scent of sex and the profound, quiet intimacy of what you had just shared. you were exhausted, overwhelmed, and utterly, completely conquered.

the exhaustion was a lie. the moment you felt ningning’s hot, playful breath against your skin again, a new, sharp hunger flared up in your gut. you weren’t done. the adrenaline of the previous climaxes was still coursing through your veins, and the sight of ningning’s mischievous, lopsided grin her lips still wet and swollen from you was enough to ignite a fresh fire.

with a sudden, coordinated burst of energy, you and ningning shifted. the movements were fluid and practiced, a dance of mutual desire. you rolled, and she rolled with you, until you were positioned in a perfect, symmetrical tangle of limbs. the sixty nine position was established, your bodies locked in a heated embrace where the only thing that mattered was the taste and sensation of each other.

the sensation was a dizzying, reciprocal loop of pleasure. as you lowered your head, your sweaty and messy hair cascading down to frame her, you were met with the intoxicating scent of her arousal. you didn’t hesitate. you dove in, your tongue finding her center with a hungry, confident rhythm that matched her own energy. you wanted to taste her, to devour her, to show her that you could be just as predatory as she was.

ningning, true to her nature, didn’t just receive; she attacked. as you worked on her, she leaned into you, her mouth finding you with a frantic, eager intensity. her tongue was a whirlwind of sensation, her suction deep and demanding, her hands reaching up to grip your hips, pulling you even closer, even deeper. it was a beautiful, erotic feedback loop: every time you made her gasp, the sound of her pleasure drove you to work even harder, and every time you teased her, she responded with a ferocity that sent new jolts of electricity through your own body.

the rest of the girls watched, mesmerized by this new, intense dynamic. karina sat up, her eyes dark and hooded, a slow, appreciative smirk on her face as she watched you and ningning lose yourselves in each other. giselle and winter leaned in closer, the air around the bed practically humming with the raw, uninhibited energy of your mutual worship.

“look at them…” karina whispered, her voice a low, husky rasp. “two hungry little beasts, trying to eat each other alive.”

the sounds in the room became a rhythmic, wet symphony. the frantic, shallow breaths of you and ningning, the slapping of skin, the low, guttural moans that escaped you both as the pleasure intensified. you were caught in a whirlpool of sensation, where the line between giving and receiving blurred until it disappeared entirely. you were no longer just a participant; you were a part of a singular, pulsing cycle of lust.

as the intensity climbed, the world narrowed down to just the two of you: the taste of her, the heat of her, and the desperate, beautiful struggle to reach the peak together. you were driving her toward the edge, and she was pulling you right along with her, a synchronized descent into pure, unadulterated ecstasy.

the air in the room reached a fever pitch of anticipation as the dynamic shifted once again. the mutual heat between you and ningning was a wildfire, but karina and giselle were no longer content to be spectators. with a low, knowing glance at each other, they reached for the straps they had brought along dark, sleek, and ready to transform the encounter from a beautiful duet into a full blown symphony of sensation.

you were still locked in your position with ningning, your tongue working its magic on her, when you felt the bed shift. the sudden, heavy weight of karina pressed against ningning’s back, her long, strong legs locking ningning’s in place. karina let out a low, satisfied growl, her hands gripping ningning’s hips and pulling her back, a predatory, confident smile on her face as she slid her strap into place.

at the same time, giselle moved behind you. you felt her hands, firm and sure, glide up your thighs, spreading them wider as she settled herself against you. the first contact of her strap was a jolt of electricity that made your breath hitch. she didn’t tease; she didn’t hesitate. with a single, powerful surge, giselle filled you, her body shuddering with the sudden, intense connection.

the room dissolved into a chaotic, beautiful blur of sound and motion. you were trapped between ningning’s frantic, desperate tongue and giselle’s relentless, rhythmic thrusts. the pleasure was overwhelming, a dual assault that demanded your total attention. you gasped into ningning’s skin, your fingers digging into her thighs as you tried to keep your balance, your body responding to giselle’s movements with a desperate, needy rhythm of its own.

above you, karina was lost in her own world of ecstasy, her body slamming against ningning in a fierce, commanding cadence. ningning’s moans were now a series of high, broken cries, her back arching as she was driven deeper and deeper into her own release. the two of them were a storm of motion, their bodies colliding with a raw, visceral intensity that echoed through the entire room.

behind you, giselle was a force of nature. her movements were sure and deliberate, each thrust sending a new wave of pleasure through your body, building a tension that was almost unbearable. she leaned forward, her lips brushing against your ear, her breath hot and ragged. “you feel that, (y/n)?” she whispered, her voice thick with lust. “feel how much we want you. feel how much you belong to us.”

you were caught in a crossfire of passion, the air thick with the scent of sweat, sex, and the overwhelming presence of four powerful women. your own climax was building, fueled by the combined energy of everyone on the bed. the world narrowed down to the friction of skin, the heat of breath, and the rhythmic, pulsing beat of five hearts all synchronized in a single, primal moment of connection.

as the tension reached its absolute peak, you felt it the moment where the pleasure became too much, where it crossed the line into something transcendental. you gripped ningning, your fingers digging into her, and giselle’s pace increased, her body vibrating with the same desperate need that was tearing through you. with a final, guttural cry, the world exploded into a kaleidoscope of white light and pure, unadulterated bliss, as you and the girls collided in a shared, shattering release.

the friction of giselle’s thrusts and the frantic, wet suction of ningning’s mouth merged into a singular, deafening roar in your mind. you were being pulled in two opposite directions one driving deep into your core, the other pulling at your very soul and the tension was so immense it felt as if you might physically split in two.

the climax hit you like a lightning strike. as giselle delivered a final, deep, punishing thrust, her body trembling with her own release, you felt your walls clamp down on her with a desperate, rhythmic ferocity. simultaneously, ningning’s mouth found your clit one last time, her tongue working with a frantic, starving intensity that sent you spiraling into a void of pure, white light. you let out a long, broken cry, your body arching so violently that you felt weightless, suspended in a sea of pure, unadulterated ecstasy.

the room erupted. karina’s triumphant roar joined the chorus of gasps and moans as she reached her own peak, her body slamming against ningning in a final, powerful cadence. for several long, breathless seconds, there was no world outside of the bed, only the heat, the friction, and the overwhelming, beautiful chaos of five women losing themselves in each other. as the waves of pleasure finally began to recede, leaving you all gasping and trembling in the wreckage, you knew you had never been more completely, beautifully conquered.

the silence that followed was heavy, thick, and almost sacred. it wasn’t the silence of emptiness, but the silence of total, absolute saturation. you lay there, completely motionless, your body feeling less like flesh and bone and more like a collection of glowing, vibrating embers. your messy and sweaty hair was spread across the pillows like a spilled silk shroud, damp with sweat and the remnants of the night’s passion.

your eyes were open, but you weren’t really seeing the room. you were staring at nothing, your gaze unfocused and glazed, your mind still caught in the aftershocks of a climax so violent it felt like it had rewritten your very dna. every inch of your skin was hyper sensitive; the mere brush of the cool air in the room felt like a caress, and the weight of the girls around you felt like a warm, protective cocoon.

giselle, still connected to you, slumped forward, her forehead resting against your stomach as her breathing slowly began to level out. her heart was still hammering a frantic rhythm against your thigh. beside you, ningning had collapsed into a heap, her limbs heavy and uncoordinated, a small, dazed smile plastered on her face as she stared at the ceiling, her chest heaving in shallow, satisfied gasps.

karina was the first to break the stillness. she didn’t move away; instead, she crawled upward, her body slick and glowing in the dim light. she hovered over you, her eyes dark, hooded, and filled with a terrifyingly beautiful sort of triumph. she looked down at you at your flushed skin, your swollen lips, and your wide, dazed and soft eyes and she looked like a predator who had just finished the most exquisite feast of her life.

she reached down, her fingers trembling slightly from the sheer exertion, and traced the line of your jaw, her touch incredibly tender despite the raw intensity of the last hour. she leaned down, her lips hovering just a fraction of an inch from yours, her voice a low, primal vibration.

“you’re still here…” she whispered, her breath smelling of you, of us. she let out a soft, breathless laugh that was part exhaustion, part pure adoration. “god, baby... you’re incredible. you took all of us. every single bit of us.”

winter and the others drifted closer, a slow, tangled migration of limbs. there was no more talking, no more commands, no more frantic hunger. there was only the quiet, rhythmic sound of five women breathing in unison, the warmth of skin on skin, and the profound, overwhelming sense of being completely, utterly, and beautifully consumed.

you were the center of their universe, and as you finally allowed your eyes to close, drifting into a deep, heavy slumber, you knew that you hadn’t just survived the storm you had become the storm itself.

Clan girls invoke their own image in her mind. And like her reputation, it isn't a pleasant one. Girls no girl wants to be, but a fate that most aren't lucky to escape. Always omegas, with their soft scents and clear skin. Their pretty figures and hair fashioned neatly. Demure personalities, melodious voices.

Maki doesn't really...like omegas. Doesn't know how to conduct herself around them in a way that won't terrify them. She's an alpha, but a female one, and that's already a rarity. The scars all over her body certainly don't help.

She wasn't too keen on having some clan omega here, sniffling around the school, making her feel unwelcome. Because the clan omegas never come alone. There's always their alpha husband if they're married, or a beta bodyguard of some sort if they aren't. So she avoided you. For months.

You found her one night, wandering the track. Her head was throbbing—because she told Shoko she didn't need to take anything for her migraine. Mostly out of pride, which is beginning to get her into a bit of trouble.

"Oh!" You had said, which shot through her aching head like an arrow. Her instincts latched onto the sound, rolling it around in her mind again and again. Pretty. And you had a nice scent too. "Are you alright, Maki?"

Maki glanced around. It was much too late for her to either pretend she hadn't seen you or make her escape. But where was your...watchful eye?

"How do you know my name?" She asked instead and forced her gaze to soften when she narrowed her steely eyes at you.

You didn't flinch at all. Maybe you were used to it. Instead you smiled. At her.

And she's been gone for you since.

Maki's never believed in any of that alpha bullshit. The whole domineering, controlling act.

Or the whole bit where omegas are the ones 'secretly in control' of their alphas—it's just lie clan girls are fed since they were old enough to comprehend human speech. To keep them docile and harmless. To know that all they have to do to get their alpha husbands to hit them less or to maybe stop them from having so many children is to give him what he wants.

Be sexy. But not too sexy, because alphas don't want whores. They want wives. Soft-spoken, sweet on the eyes. And a figure that'll get them hard. Good with children, unless you're in a bigger clan, where betas and lesser born omegas do all of the hard work for you.

She only knows that bit because she was expected to present as an omega, like Mai. Of course, she hadn't.

Maki isn't some knot-dumb alpha who loses her mind at a nice scent. Not even a really nice one. But what she loses her mind over is this : an omega who touches her arm carefully, who prattles on and on about whatever's caught her attention. An omega who insists on everything being neat and pretty, nice legs and a nape that makes Maki's fangs itch. An omega who is kind. Kind to weaker sorcerers, kind to the auxiliary staff. Kind to people she passes on the street.

To old men, to the beggars, to the children, to the girl running from an alpha who can't take no for an answer. An omega who stands up for the weak in the best way she knows how, who stands up to the strong even when it scares her; makes her breath run quick and her delicate flowery scent turn bitter with fear.

For an omega like that; Maki will do anything to keep her. And she has.

You stir against her. You've actually been awake for some time, but for some reason beyond her, you like to pretend. It's easy to tell— because when you are asleep, you become a terror. You hog the blankets. Sometimes your arms and legs thrash while deep within the land of dreams, causing Maki to be attacked at odd hours of the night.

And every night, against your own will, you end up on the other side of the bed. Sometimes (if she is awake hours before you even think to rouse) one of your limbs will hang precariously off the edge of the bed.

When you do wake, you immediately latch onto her side again. Sweet as a daisy, plastering onto whatever part of her body you can reach. So it's easy to tell.

At this point in the morning, you've been awake for quite some time before Maki just rushes out with it, nerves be damned : "I would like to marry you. If you don't hate that idea"

She feels your smile pressed into her neck. "Why would I ever hate being married to you, Maki?"

"Well—" She flounders, sucking her teeth. "Shit. I don't know. I just. Well I wanted to ask." Isn't it important to know where you both stand, or something like that?

Your giggle spins around inside her brain, like a record stuck on repeat. "Oh-ho." Your gummy smile turns all sweet and bashful, dreamy-eyed gaze. "Are you afraid of what my parents might think?"

Maki snorts and rolls her eyes (mostly to hide the fact that she's blushing). What your parents should think is that they're eternally grateful for the existence of Maki Zenin who murdered her cousin, Naoya, who would have been your husband (that had not been a factor in killing him—she was going to do that anyway). That you still care enough about either of them to still want that connection. That you choose to don your best yukata every Sunday evening to take dinner with them. That their daughter has an alpha who loves her, even if that alpha is Maki Zenin—who is no good for anything.

"My parents think," You begin pointedly, when Maki does not confirm or deny your earlier statement. "Of my happiness. And that my alpha should maybe start planning her proposal, unless she intends to court me for the rest of her life"

Maki heavily doubts that, but says nothing. Your parents are probably waiting for a curse to finally kill her so they can match you up with a better, more virile alpha.

"Well, your parents are probably right" She says instead, pulling you half on top of her and gripping the soft doughy around your hips. "But, for the record, I do not intent to court my omega for the rest of my life and I do, in fact, plan on getting over my insecurities. Because I've already corrupted you, and your parents will be so heartbroken now that I've deflowered their only omega daughter by not claiming her, when I've done everything else"

You giggle again. "You didn't corrupt me, Maki. This isn't the old days" But you squirm on top of her anyway, looking sweet.

"Mhm" Maki hums dryly, and slides her (cold) hand underneath the waistband of your lacey pajama shorts. "So, you weren't a good, sweet girl before you met me?"

"Well—" Your words pitch off into a delicate little sigh as her hand massages your stomach and waist, trailing lower. Something about it makes her fangs itch. She isn't into the whole alpha puritan bullshit, but something makes her smug, knowing she got to you before some other alpha did.

"I bet you were all demure. Pourin tea for your parent's guests. Hung out with other pretty, delicate little omegas. And never talking to alphas, cause they're trouble, that's what your parents told you anyway. And you listen to them, always. I bet you even say your sir's and ma'am's because you're a really good girl. And that means absolutely never letting alphas in your panties, hm?" The words pour out of her mouth like filth, she can't stop.

Your wriggle, trying to coax her hand where you want it. Maki doesn't, because she's trying to feel you up instead, and right now, that's more fun. Her fingers skirt alongside the edge of your panties, before moving to grope your butt and back up to your waist again.

"Maki" You whine, eyes narrowing into little slits. "I'm still good—touch me please. Now. Please?"

She does not, biting her lip instead. She slides her other hand up, massaging your breasts. Fondling them until the nipples grow hard like little pebbles.

You are easily the prettiest omega she's ever seen. And you're pretty like a goddess would be. Ironic, considering she's never cared for them before. Never been the religious type. Yet you must definitely be a goddess sent down to absolve Maki of her wickedness. A goddess that deserves to be laid down and touched, worshipped and sampled like the finest delicacy on Earth.

She feels like a half-crazy fanatic priest—except one with less holy intentions. She wants to lay you down on an alter and get your clothes off so she can feel your body coming alive beneath her hands. So you can squirm all cutely and bat her hands away, except your legs will spread and she will drink the God's ambrosia right from the source.

You whine out her name again, practically pornographic, rubbing and grinding against her for friction. It isn't enough for you, and Maki's tongue pokes against the inside of her cheek to keep from teasing you mercilessly.

"Maybe you were just pretending to be a good girl," She hears herself breathe out. Her hand slides inside your shorts again, this time tracing the lips of your cunt through your panties with her finger, green eyes trained on your face. "With your sugar scent, trying to trap and ensnare an alpha like me. Of course it would have to be me. No other alpha could handle you, because they don't know what you need. How to treat you. But I do, don't I?"

"Yes. Yes, Maki—" You whine again, sounding delicately frustrated. Like Maki not touching your cunt when you want it is somehow the end of the world. "Touch me now, want you to touch me"

Who is she to keep you waiting? Besides, you've always been terrible at this part, the dirty talking. You get all bashful and clammy, face and neck heating up—barely being able to hold her gaze. Or, you end up too fucked out to function right, just whining for more, more, more.

But Maki loves it. She fucking loves the whole shy, desperate thing. Because it's real. It's not some omega trying to cater to her fantasies. But it's you becoming tongue-tied and whiny because you want her to touch you and then more tongue-tied because your brain oozes out of your ears and you never want her to stop.

Maki reigns in her thoughts and gently nudges your panties to the side and firmly drags her fingers through the wet folds of your pussy, not even blinking as your thighs quake and your head tips back with a wavering little moan.

"You were just waiting for me to come for you, weren't you baby?" Maki finds herself thinking of Naoya, and how he was everything she has ever hated about Jujutsu, and the world. About how he will never get to see this or work his fingers against you slow and delicate to drive you up a wall. Thinks of all the alphas out there with wonderful omegas who probably don't even know how to make them cum outside of their heats.

"I was, I was-" You nod, ever so eager to please.

"Not your fault," Maki coos, and snakes her other hand back up to your tit. "I should've came for you sooner. I took too long, left my omega craving for something she couldn't even understand she wanted" Really, she should have known. "I should have realized it when we met. Should have just asked you to marry me when we were at the track, remember?"

"I remember," Comes the sweet, airy reply. "Marry me now; Maki. We can just get married now"

Maki has to yank you down, burying her face into your neck to mask her groan. God, that was so cute. Her entire face flushes with heat. She loves that about you. She's no good with words—says very little or the first thing that comes to her mind. But you seem to pluck words out of thin air and whisk them into something incredibly beautiful and real.

No way in hell can she pass you up. The thought of another alpha getting to have what she does makes her want to snarl and bite.

"How do you want it?" Maki pants, and she meant to sound more confident. More in control. Cool and level-headed. But you undo her. Her fingers run up your side. "It's your wedding baby, how do you want it?"

You sigh, eyes closed, completely blissed out against her. "I want you to fuck me"

"Are you sure?" She inquires. You've been together for some time now, but she always asks. She trusts you and she knows that you wouldn't do something just because she likes it. But she can't help but—it could. Ugh. There she goes again, all ineloquent.

The last thing Maki ever wants to do is force you.

Because she likes it. Maybe too much. She doesn't like feeling like one of those alphas—doesn't want to be reminded of the shitheads in the Zenin she grew up around. But there are very few things in the world that are better than being inside of you.

"'m sure" You coax, rolling off of her and onto your back, showing her the most vulnerable parts of yourself with ease. Then you giggle. "It's our wedding night, right? And I want my wife to take care of me"

Nevermind the fact that it's midmorning. Nevermind that there's no ring and there has been no ceremony and she hasn't even proposed. But that does it for her. My wife. She wasn't expecting it...to have this much of an effect. But it literally makes her mind spin and she feels all dizzy with it. The last name Zenin wouldn't be so awful if you had it, she thinks. Or would she rather have yours? Belong to a family, for once in her life?

No. It's obvious that you two would share them. Swap them like hoodies and shoes and everything else.

Mind made up on the matter, Maki surges down to kiss you (luckily, you say nothing on the fact that she had done nothing but stare at you for a handful of minutes—a part of her realizes you're used to it). She gets her leg between your thighs and lets you ride her thigh for a moment.

It's a sight. The wet patch on your panties, sliding back and forth in view, and then gone again—always garnering her eye. The huffed, quiet little breathing. The fact that all she has to do is lie there and let you use her for her pleasure. That her body does something other than maim or kill.

But no. She can't let you finish like that. Her baby wants to get fucked, so Maki's going to fuck you. Still (like you hadn't asked for it), you whine when she moves her leg in order to strip you of your clothes.

She can't help it when she says, still shuddering around a lungful of air, "Be patient. My bride deserves something a little more than some filthy grinding" The word bride tentatively, unsure—wholly experimental in nature. Wants to see if you like it the same way she likes hearing the word wife come out of your lips. But there's still that edge to it, slightly playful; safe. Plausibly deniable. A joke, if you don't—

"Oh, fuck" You gasp, reedy and entire body squirming, seeking out friction from her body where there is none. "Maki, please"

Maki grind. Yeah. She had a feeling you'd like it.

Her hands quickly move onto the next task. Finding a pillow and shoving it underneath your hips and then pulling your sticky panties off, exposing your thighs. The smell of your wet cunt, ready to be bred, slaps her in the face, and she thinks she does a great job at self control by not sticking her face in your pussy to get a taste.

"Look at you," Maki murmurs, a hint of genuine wonder in her voice. You get all squirmy from the tone, caught between bashful and stupidly-fucking-horny, lashes kissing your cheeks. "Wow, you're so beautiful"

"Jeez, Maki—" You grumble, though it sounds exasperated and embarrassed rather than annoyed. Not that it matters, because the rest of your slick remark is cut off by a whiny oh! when her fingers press inside.

Despite your needy protests, Maki doesn't rush through this. Prepping is always her favorite part and she kills for some good foreplay. Most alphas would want to rush through it and knot up, but not her. She likes the tension, likes dragging the moment all the way out; taught and thin. Sweat beads along her forehead but she ignores it, eyes practically unblinking as two fingers become three and hinting at maybe four.

It's the control, she thinks. Knowing that without a shadow of a doubt that she knows you're ready. That she can guide you along, make it real good. Of course you can beg and whine for her cock, that you can take it, but Maki likes to be sure. Even when your hands claw at the sheets and your thighs start shuddering like you're about to cum.

"Maki" You whine, sounding put-out that you aren't getting your way. Your hands stop trying to rip the sheets apart to instead tug her shirt off of her head. Not that you can, considering the fact that you've been fucked dumb by her fingers. You grow frustrated, lashes clumping with tears and then you grab her and yank her down so close her nose bumps awkwardly into your cheek. "Oh, god. Get on with it! Maki, please, get the fuck on with it!"

"So bossy" Maki tuts, but does like you've asked. Sitting up on her haunches to pull her shirt off, abs clenching as you run your fingers reverently over her muscles. "What happened to that sweet girl who says her please's and thank you's?"

"You married her" You say smartly, looping your arms around her neck like it's your first dance at prom. There's something that twinkled in your eyes, mischief or fondness, maybe. Makes her feel stupidly fluttery inside. "I'm your wife now, remember?"

Maki kisses the side of your face and guides her cock in. "How could I forget?" She murmurs and then hisses through her fangs when your syrupy cunt starts spasming around her cock, oversensitive. She tucks her face down into your neck, gnawing on your shoulder as gently as she can manage so that she doesn't do something stupid like bite.

Her hips churn inside, fucking in with deep thrusts, the sound of your moaning like the heavenly sound of a choir in her ears.

"How're so tight?" Maki grunts, planting one of her hands in the mattress and another gripping tight around your clammy, sweat-slick skin. Her ears pop, like she's way up high, or down in the deepest depths of the ocean. "Almost—almost could believe it's your first time. Like you saved yourself for me. For our wedding night"

That pulls a loud, punched-out cry from your throat. You tip your head back, body quivering and shaking. Those big eyes slip shut and then open, and then shut again, accompanied by your startled, rabbit-fast breathing. God, you're so beautiful. Your arms are constantly moving, like they don't know exactly what to do with themselves, and your tits bounce every time Maki fucks back in. She makes a quick game of it, really clearing her head and fucking it how you like, practically drooling with her eyes focused entirely on your tits.

"Oh, oh, uh, uhn, Mak–Maki"

"Don't worry, I won't tell" She murmurs. She shifts herself again, puts one of her hands on your stomach and pins you down because you keep trying to run from it. "I'll make sure everyone knows you're still that proper little omega. That you didn't let your bad alpha in this pussy before your wedding night"

The idea of marriage and a family—those things used to belong to a world where Maki knew she wasn't welcome. Something like that, a sense of belonging, a home. Things like that wasn't something someone like her was allowed to have.

Of course, all of that changed when she met you. Averse to omegas as she was, scared of their rejection and the isolation...she wanted you. The first time you met and you smiled at her, she wanted you. She likes to think that she sees the world like you do now, something that is capable of goodness and change.

Maki wants so much she feels sick with it sometimes. Like that part of her that says you don't get to have nice things is trying to rear its ugly face again. But she wants to parade you around under the noses of other sorcerers. Wants to show them a free omega, one not constricted to their pointless rules and expectations. She wants to kiss you in public, in front of the more traditional idiots who don't still believe that female alphas are an abomination or that women, regardless of second gender, shouldn't find happiness in one another.

She wants smaller things too. A kid too. Maybe twins. Maybe like what she and Mai could have been. Wants to watch you on the front porch with them, suckling at your breast. Or maybe both of you stressing about winter fevers or what color to paint to nursery or that awful bittersweet tragedy of that first day of school and all of the firsts that follow behind it. She wants, she wants.

Your arms surge up, pulling her down for a messy, spit-slick kiss. Maki's lower back twinges with discomfort at the position, but she's quick to readjust. Guides your leg around her waist, though it slips a few times before you realize what it is she wants from you. With your body securely in place, Maki finds that rhythm again. Fast, hard, like she's trying to catch lightning in a bottle all while your shuddery cries turn into wails.

I think you were made for me.

The thought is crass, cringe, and Maki doesn't really shes said it out loud until you're echoing her—made for you, made just for you, Maki, pleasepleaseplease, fuck. But it's true. Maybe the two of you were made for one another. Stars plucked out of the sky and formed into humans bodies that would eventually find one another, no matter the distance between them.

There had been times when she had seen you, or startling moments in passing conversation when she had wondered, is any of this real? Is this a hallucination? Some sort of guardian angel? How was it possible for someone to be so perfect? You love Maki the way she's always wanted to be loved.

You need her, but that is not the limit of your love. More apt, you see her. All the scary things she doesn't want to admit. You dig your hands into the center of her being with your smile and say, Maki, none of this is ugly, this is just who you are. And your hands touch her soul maybe–

"Maki"

"Yeah, yeah, I know" She grunts, shifting just so her cock nudges into that bundle of nerves that makes you cum with a strangled shout, your nails scratching long marks down her back. Her vision whites out for a second, fuck, so close. But she doesn't want to do too much, wraps her fingers around the base of her cock with the intention to pull out. But you latch onto her wrist with another cry.

"Don't," You slur, more dazed than anything else. "You can—inside. Wan' it inside. Please, alpha"

"Oh, fuck," Maki curses, hurtling right out of her own body, coursing through space and time itself. She curls over your body, doesn't let an inch of your skin go uncovered by her own. Your mouths are close. She'd kiss you if either of you could actually manage the coordination to do so.

Your body goes soft, pliant. Trusting. She rocks in with shallow thrusts, blindly chasing her orgasm, growling and rumbling into your sweaty skin. She's not going to last much longer, and she doesn't—and Maki pictures a rubber band being pulled so taught it snaps—and then she cums inside of you.

She slumps against you, entirely spent. Gingerly, weakly, completely fucked out, your arms wrap around her, purring with the content. You're both too tired to do much of anything but catch your breath. But the words keep spinning inside of her head anyway, mine, mine, mine, mine.

"Do we even know enough people for a wedding, anyway?" You broach later, once you've both returned to the land of the living. Maki's between your legs with a wet rag, gently wiping you clean.

"Hm?"

"When we're kids, they all tell us," 'They' of course being your clans. Older omegas and the betas in charge of the lessons and schooling. "They tell us we're all going to have alphas who love us, and big, beautiful weddings. I went to my cousins wedding once, I was the flower girl, except I was a bit old. It was big. Lots of people"

Maki smiles despite herself. "Yeah?"

"Yeah" You say assertively, and then nod. "Who's gonna be your maid of honor? Kugisaki?"

"Absolutely not" She snorts, and flings the thing aside, crawling up to your body again. "We're supposed to actually make it alive to the wedding, you know? Kugisaki's bachelorette will kill us both."

"Maybe we can ask Nanami to give the speech" You mumble, cute and sleepy. "I think he would make a nice speech"

"And he can keep Gojo in check, more importantly"

That remark sends you into wild peals of laughter. Something, her heart, she thinks; warms. The pair of you go silent for a bit. Maki is thinking about how you really don't know anybody. Between the two of you there's your parents, and Gojo. That Itadori brat and her cousin Fushiguro. Nanami, Yuta. Sorcery does not exactly ensure a very rambunctious lifestyle and everyone truly important to her is dead.

She loses herself in another timeline. One where sorcerers and curses don't exist. Or at the very least, one where neither of your families are involved. Imagines herself as someone less broken. Maybe the two of you are childhood friends. Mayne you are high school sweethearts.

Maybe she has a scrapbook of her dream wedding, because she is a normal girl who doesn't have to fight curses. Maki's face scrunches in confusion. What would a normal girl even look like, and would she still recognize herself is she were? Would you?

"Maki?" You ask, voice soft and strong enough to break through the murkiness of her thoughts. She hums, noncommittal and turns her face so that she can kiss you lazily for a few seconds. "Where were you?"

"Nowhere important," Maki replies, and means it. She runs her hand down the middle of your back and bites back a sharp grin at the full body shudder the action rewards her with. She means it though.

Right here is exactly where she wants to be.

Shoko’s eyes softened immediately. “Come here,” she murmured, reaching out to adjust the collar, her fingers grazing your collarbone. “You look so fucking cute. It makes me want to keep you in my lap all day.”

Yuki leaned back, eyes dragging slowly down your frame. “So cute, your boobs look amazing in it.”

You giggled, twisting a little in front of the mirror. “Stop it…”

But you didn’t want them to stop. Not really.

They kept spoiling you. Dresses, tops, jeans that made your ass look incredible (Yuki’s words). Every time you came out, Shoko would pull you closer, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple or your shoulder while whispering how beautiful you were, Yuki was less subtle. When you tried on a tight black dress that clung to your curves, she let out a low whistle.

“Fuck, princess. Bend over just a little for me? Yeah, like that. God, I need to fuck you in this later.”

Your face burned, but the giggle that escaped you was pure delight. Shoko snorted, rolling a cigarette between her fingers to smoke later. “You’re making our girl nervous, Yuki.”

“Aw nooo,” Yuki fake pouted, raising her hand for you to come between her legs. “Do I make you nervous, doll?” She batted her eyelashes, looking up at you as her hands rested low on your hips.

“N-no,” you answered, looking at her for one second before looking away. 

“Don’t lie…” Shoko added with a little smirk. 

You clicked your tongue in frustration, now nodding. “A little.” You put your thumb and index finger close to each other, showing Yuki how little she made you nervous. 

“A pretty girl like you can’t be shy.” Yuki shook her head, getting up and grabbing your hand. “C’mon, we’re taking it all and we’re going to the makeup store next.”

Shoko dabbed lipstick on your lips with careful fingers. “This shade looks so pretty on you,” she said softly, thumb brushing the corner of your mouth. “Makes me want to kiss it all off.”

Yuki leaned in from the other side, close enough that her breath tickled your ear. “Bet it leaves the prettiest marks on the skin.”

You squirmed in your seat, thighs pressing together, heart racing at how casually they said things like that in public. But they knew exactly how much you loved it.

The lingerie store was the most intense, you felt heat rising to your cheeks the second you stepped inside. “We don’t really have to—”

But they were already choosing sets for you to try on. “This one,” Shoko said, holding a pink lace set up. “You’ll look like an angel in it. Our sweet little angel.”

Yuki immediately grabbed a deep red sheer babydoll. “This one too. I bet your nipples are gonna show right through it.”

They ushered you into the large fitting room together, locking the door behind them. The space was intimate, just the three of you and the warm lighting. You slipped into the pink lace first, hands a little shaky with excitement. When you turned around, both of them went quiet for a second.

Shoko exhaled slowly, stepping closer. Her hands settled on your waist, thumbs stroking the bare skin above the panties. “Look at you… so pretty for us.” She kissed your neck gently, then your jaw. “We’re so lucky you’re ours.”

Yuki’s eyes were darker, hungrier. She came up behind you, pressing against your back, hands sliding down to cup your ass. “Jesus, baby. This little set is not lasting all night. I’m gonna eat you out while you’re still wearing it, then fuck you nice and deep till you’re crying my name.”

“Yuki!” You let out a soft, giggly whimper, hiding your burning face against Shoko’s shoulder.

Shoko tilted your chin up, kissing you slow and deep, her tongue teasing yours until your knees felt weak. When she pulled back, Yuki turned your head to claim your mouth too, her kiss hotter, more demanding, biting your bottom lip playfully.

“You’re our good girl, right?” Shoko whispered against your ear.

You nodded fast. “The best.”

“Mm, I love to hear that. Don’t you, Sho?” Yuki commented with a grin against your neck. 

Shoko hummed in approval, already planning all the things they’re going to do that night to you together, they love so much to team up against you.

Roommate!Shoko pats your ass before she goes over to the counter to make coffee. “I’ve always been like this, but I used to have my parents physically dragging me out of bed. Guess I need a special touch.”

It’s gotten so bad that her friend, Gojo, has offered you a lot of money to get her out of the apartment on time. 

And you’re not one to turn down money.

So you devised a plan to capitalise on this. You tried banging pots and pans, leaving ten alarms so that they blare all at once, shaking her, yelling right in her ear — nothing. She will not budge. She will not flinch. 

She will not wake the hell up.

So it’s clear that by ‘special’ she doesn’t mean violence, because you’ve rained attacks on her with her pillow many times and it never did anything but tire you out.

Until, one day, you discovered, by complete accident, that there’s a foolproof way to get her up and alert: orgasms. 

It really was an accident. 

You were trying to wrangle her out of bed, and changed so that when she did wake up, she could rush out of the apartment instead of wasting time trying to pick an outfit. It was thoughtful. Smart. Genius! 

But she never makes anything easy for you. 

Her body fought against your attempts, wanting to cling to the comfortable mattress and stay in the warm comforts of her blanket. In all the wriggling and fighting, your thigh ended up between hers, lodged firmly to the apex. 

You realised too late what was happening; you still fought and fought, and was accidentally grinding your thigh to her pussy. It only became apparent to you what a horrible mistake you had made and what an unfortunate position you were in when her arms locked around your torso to keep you in place as she subconsciously humped your leg. 

Then her body was spasming. She was moaning in your ear, leaving a warm wetness on your skin. 

Within seconds, she was awake and confused as to what you were doing above her, all flustered and aghast. 

You didn’t want to tell her what happened, out of embarrassment. In fact, you vowed to take it to your grave. But the money dropped in your account, with a note that said, thx for working miracles, from The Strongest. And for the first time in months, maybe even years, you were able to splurge. 

So, guilt-ridden and fully prepared to go to jail, you explained. 

Roommate!Shoko hummed, arms and legs crossed. She eyed you through her long lashes before a devious smile pulled at her lips. “So, you molested me in my sleep and woke me up.”

“I wouldn’t put it like that,” you argued, cringing. “But, yeah, I guess. I promise it was an accident though!”

She cradled your cheek and tenderly pressed a kiss to the other. “It’s alright. I’m actually quite grateful we found a solution to my sleeping problem.”

A beat of silence passed.

“What?”

Casually, she strutted off and jumped on the sofa. She patted the seat next to her as she said, “You want money, I want to wake up on time. Sounds pretty simple to me. Do what you gotta do, and we don’t have to talk about it after. It’ll be our little secret.”

Things spiralled soon after. 

A routine formed. 

Every morning, varying the time based on what she had going on that day, you would sneak into her room, checking she’s asleep. 

Today is no different.

The door opens to your touch. You step in.

Roommate!Shoko lies over her covers, on her stomach, dressed in only her panties and a big T-shirt that belongs to Geto. You sigh. There’s 20 minutes before she has to get to her feet and wash up if she wants to make it on time for a lecture. A med student really cannot afford to be missing any classes and lectures, so you never understood why she doesn’t take care of herself better.

Being the one to make sure she can make good on her promises and graduate with a degree has become your responsibility. The burden is heavy. It’s not like you have nothing going on in your life. 

At this point, however, when you’ve earned thousands and are swimming in money because she’s friends with a rich kid, you can’t complain. 

With a little groan, you flip her on her back. 

Still nothing.

“Jeez, Sho,” you mutter, “I could throw you down a flight of stairs and you’d still be snoring.”

You trail your fingers over her bare thigh, until they skim the hem of her grey Calvin Klein panties. It’s one of your favourites. Maybe she knows that, maybe she doesn’t. Who’s to say if she gets herself into positions that pushes her gorgeous ass out on purpose, if she wears clothes she knows you can’t get enough of?

Parting her legs for her, you hum as you press an indent on her clothed slit. It surprises you every time how squishy her pussy lips are. Her hips jolt. You easily find her clit, rubbing in gentle circles, just the way she likes at first. 

Roommate!Shoko stirs. 

You lie on your stomach on the bed, keeping her legs spread. The mattress drips. The bed frame creaks. Does she wake up? 

Of course not.

Her thighs are smooth and soft; they’re nice to lay on when you’re watching movies together. They’re even nicer to rest your cheek on when you’re up close and personal with her panties. Your nose nudges the cute little bump where her clit is, inhaling her sweet scent.

A wet spot has formed at the gusset — grey panties show it so easily. Giggling a little, you press a kiss to the darker spot. You lick the faint taste of her off your lips. Not even a second later, you’re suckling on the fabric. “Mm, Sho. I can already taste you,” you tell her, even though she can’t hear.

Roommate!Shoko releases a low moan. When you peek up, she’s still asleep. Her lips are parted, her breathing’s steady, eyes closed. Although, you do spot a light dusting of pink on her cheeks and the way her two middle fingers, which rests upon her pillow, twitches.

All good signs.

With 15 minutes left to go, you decide to up the ante; pulling her panties to the side, you’re met with her puffy lips, which have grown shiny with her juices. The heat radiating has you growing dizzy. 

It’s silly really, how you’re more affected than her.

There’s always a mix of feelings inside you every time you do this: guilt because she has no idea exactly what you do to her, excitement because she has no idea that you take the initiative to suck on her clit, and disappointment because she has no idea and cannot return the favour. 

After each time, you send her off or you leave first, you’re always left with an itch you have to scratch, on your own. You’ve wondered many times how nice it would be to have her between your legs, to feel her slender fingers in you and sinful mouth on you. 

Of course, you know this is wrong, that this arrangement isn’t healthy or ethical, but it’s for her own good. It’s simply a bonus that this isn’t much of a sacrifice to make because you’ve always had a fat crush on your smart, witty, sexy as sin roommate, with her slender legs, wide hips, slutty waist, and huge tits. 

Speaking of…

A hand creeps up. You grope one of her breasts over her shirt. Fat pudge between your fingers. Her nipple is hard, poking your palm. You run a blunt nail down the little bud. Her back arches. Like clockwork. 

Roommate!Shoko loves to have her tits played, especially over the top, where the friction and the texture of her shirt adds a special kind of thrill. 

Right on cue, a fresh wave of pussy juices oozes out of her, dripping down the plumpness of her ass. You collect it on the tip of your tongue, then bury it back inside her. Warm, gummy walls clench around the wet appendage. Above you, another moan resounds. It shoots straight through your body. Your own pussy reacts.

Even in her sleep she’s so hot. 

“Don’t worry, Sho,” you chirp. “I’ll have you awake soon.”

You lick a fat stripe up her slit.

Her juices are sweet and tangy, with a distinct taste of her. It’s intoxicating. Her internal heat and your breath creates a humid mix that has your and her clit throbbing seemingly in tandem. You greedily lick as much of her as you can, making sure to flick her cute button on your way up. 

“Mmm.” 

Roommate!Shoko’s shuffling now, writhing slowly. Her breathing’s grown irregular, deeper, face more flushed. One leg wrestles itself from your grip. It throws itself over your shoulder, bending to push your head even closer. Soothing, you brush her heated flesh.

In her sleep, her pelvis rocks up. It’s subconsciously grinding her whole pussy on your face, seeking the tip of your nose to satisfy her needy clit. That’s fine with you — you can shove your tongue inside her pussy and curl it against the rough texture near the entrance in the meantime.

Both of your hands are squeezing and massaging her tits, wanting to hear more sleepy moans and groans from her pretty lips. You could play with them for hours. They’re a work of wonder. She’s always pressing them against your back, your arms, in your face. Sometimes you think she does it on purpose. Perhaps you hope she does.

Lewd sounds are being wrung out by your mouth, which has become an expert in her body by now: squelches, slurrrrps, and the sticking of skin with the messiness of her wetness spreading itself all over your cheeks, chin, her inner thighs.

You look at the alarm clock on her bedside table.

4 minutes. 

How time flies when you’re having fun. 

“Alright, Sho. You’re gonna need to cum for me,” you tell her, slapping the side of her tit to watch it bounce. She gasps. 

Since she hasn’t woken up yet, her bladder’s probably full. And everyone knows the best time to touch yourself is when you need to pee. She’s not an exception. 

You press a hand down on her lower belly as you wrap your swollen lips around her clit. At the same time that you apply pressure, you suuuuckkk! it hard.

Roommate!Shoko’s hips jerk. They threaten to pull away from you. You hold her body down, mercilessly devouring her cunt with increasing hunger. The pulsing of her clit and the clenching of her insides have intensified. She’s close. Really close.

“N-no,” she breathes out. “Nghhh, gonna -hah- gonna…”

She’s throwing her head side to side, eyes shut tight, and low moans turning into louder groans and whines. 

Finally, her body tenses. 

A ferocious climax tears right through her. 

You hold her firmly as she cums, lapping incessantly at the juices overflowing, threatening to stain her bedsheets. Your hips hump the bed, overwhelmed by the tightness of her thighs which clamp around your bed, trying to suffocate you, undecided between wanting to push you away or pull you in. 

There’s barely any stimulation. It’s frustrating. Infuriating. Maddening. Maybe you should try scissoring with her. Would she mind? 

The clock reads that there’s only a minute to spare. Sloppy work.

Knowing that any second now, she’ll be waking up, you give her quick licks around to clean her up. Then you move her panties back into place. Right as the alarm goes off, you’re standing to your feet.

Roommate!Shoko’s eyes flutter open. 

She grips a breast in one hand and her pussy with the other, wanting to calm the aches you’re sure as she’s still feeling the tremors of pleasure in her system.

“Morning, Sho.”

Her eyes dart to you. She lets her body go. If she’s embarrassed she’s been caught grinding into the heel of her palm, she doesn’t show it. Instead, she gives you a lazy smile. “Mmm, hi, gorgeous. You know how I love when you’re the first thing I see in the mornings.”

Even freshly woken up, she’s a flirt. 

Taking her hand, you pull her to a sitting position. She runs a hand through her hair and exhales. “Man, whatever you did, you did really well. I feel so light. Mm, my pussy’s tingling.”

“We don’t talk about it, remember?”

Roommate!Shoko bites her lip, and, with a smirk, raises her arms in surrender. “Of course. My bad.”

Her hands grip your hips. You find your body being used as leverage so that she can get to her feet. You’re chest to chest now. Her hard nipples scrape yours. You fight the urge to moan right in her face. Pelvis to pelvis too; you feel the heat of her pussy through your shorts. You wonder if she feels yours.

Tucking a lock of hair behind your ear, she purrs, “You always take such good care of me, don’t you, roomie?”

“Anything to afford rent,” you say.

With a yawn, she side steps you to head to her en-suite bathroom. “Don’t I know it? Well, I appreciate you coming into my room everyday to make sure I wake up to my alarm. You go above and beyond. You’re the best. I love you, babe.”

“Don’t mention it.”

You fall to her bed. Partly because your knees are weak, because your pussy’s still throbbing and you need some friction, and partly to hide the wet spot that’s formed on her sheet. 

At the doorway, she pauses. 

Turning her head to look at you, she gives a wry smile. That’s all the warning you get before she’s shrugging her shirt and panties off. You get an eyeful of pale skin and curves you want to take a bite of. 

“Shoko!”

Roommate!Shoko looks at you with innocent, bambi eyes. “What’s wrong? We’re both girls.”

“It doesn’t matter,” you splutter, looking away even though you really want to look. And occasionally looking back, as though you can’t help it. “Where are your manners?”

The girl’s shameless.

Truly, utterly shameless.

A normal person would be ashamed that they have to be eaten out by their roommate to wake up. A normal person wouldn’t be undressing right in front of their roommate. But then again, a normal person wouldn’t be eating their roommate out for money either. 

She rolls her eyes. “My manners?” she repeats. “Where are yours?”

“What’re you talking about?”

Roommate!Shoko runs a finger across her lips and says, “Got a little something there.” 

Face flushing, you hurriedly wipe away her juices from your lips and chin. Oh god, that is humiliating. How long had that been there? Why didn’t she say anything sooner?

She laughs. “You know, you’re allowed to try different methods to wake me up, right?”

“Oh.” A twinge of disappointment hits you. Frowning a little, you ask, “You want me to go back to wafting smelling salts under your nose? That did seem to work for a little bit.”

Roommate!Shoko shakes her head. “No, babes, I’m saying you should let me have something sweet once in a while. Switch it up here and there, y’know? Have some fun for yourself.” With a grin that’s all sorts of bad for your heart rate, she adds, “I don’t bite.”

You gulp.

“Noted.”