A/N: Thanks for waiting!~ (More A/N at the end of the smut)
<- Previous episode
“I...am… so... so... sorry…” Dahyun enunciated. Making sure you heard every ounce of regret behind each word. The moment you entered the home you two built, she ran to you. Worriedly telling you about what happened earlier with John; the man who had his way with the woman of your dreams while you sat back, and stroked your cock in the tiny cube your company had the guts to call an office.
The windows were spotlights. Her spotlight. The afternoon's sun painting her golden like her confession was some best selling novel instead of betrayal.
She had on fresh clothes. The clothes that probably smelled like their shared scent were gone. She probably burned them. Ridding you the chance to know how she smelled like getting fucked by a real man. Good riddance.
"I- I promise it was a mistake" she said that like she were begging. Begging you to hear her out. Begging you to stay. Begging you to stop making that unreadable face.
Begging you to stop being so far away from her like she was strapped with a bomb. But there was no bomb. Just remorse, and truth.
Your silence makes her go for broke. Leaping at you to close the gap in your relationship, making you crash against the door, ringing steel and oak that cuts through the peace of the apartment complex.
Dahyun buries her face on your neck, wetting it with her sob. Unable to look you straight in the eye as she pleads with skin, with warmth, with her lithe figure that she knows you know fit perfectly in your frame like a puzzle piece.
She was practically molding her flesh with your work clothes. Her thighs on yours. Head on your neck. Arms on your chest. And crotch on...
"John was a mistake. A mistake that..." Her sin gets stuck in her throat.
"A mistake that wont ever---" She backs her midriff off your crotch
"Wont ever----" The sentence dies off.
Your lungs deflate like Exodus as she suddenly grabs your cock.
Your eyebrows furrow, and you were about to scold her for thinking that sexual favor would get her out of this.
But you didn't. For her eyes held curiosity laced with accusation. She finally looks up at you, showing you puffed eyes. Peering like she studied the windows to your soul.
Then she looked down to what her hand felt. Hardness.
Her eyes narrow as she feels the outline of your member. The cogs in her brain start to work, and so does her hand. Tentatively pumping you in shallow closed-fist strokes.
"John... he- he used me."
Pulse
"Took advantage of me"
Pulse
"Baby... he made me cum..."
That was your limit, and your zipper knew it too, clinking. Faint. Struggling to contain what new length you've reached.
The remorse starts leaving her face. Replaced with shock. Each pulse, each truth your body revealed dropped her jaw lower. Discovering what pleasure you found from her sin.
You had nothing. Absolutely nothing. For you knew that your body spoke louder than whatever words you could put together.
Dahyun closes the gape in her mouth. And with calculated movement, she brings your hand to her face. Slowly. Akin to testing waters. Cupping it with closed eyes. Cupping it so dearly you'd think you were holy. She smells your knuckles. Her forehead wrinkles at the smell of fax machine ink and an honest day's work. Seconds entailed. Ones that she stretched. Pausing time so she could hear what truth pulses on your wrist.
The agony in her face had long since past, replaced with duty, and a determination you've only seen backstage when TWICE was still active.
Dahyun guides you to the bedroom. Getting on her knees to trek the duvet as she pulls you to lay.
No more words. No more tears. Just duty.
You've never seen your sweet little tofu like this before. The girl who giggled everytime you kissed her. Your pillow princess that always felt the need to ask permission to be the little spoon.
No.
This was a different girl.
Confident.
Evident by her spreading your legs so she could use your thigh as her seat.
She undoes your zipper. Taking her time with each tooth. Click, click, click.
With her off hand, she grabs your chin. Demanding your gaze as she fishes for your cock.
"Tell me how you feel... about your woman being taken"
You look away. Clinging to what pride you had left, until she uses her thumb to trace your crown. Practically purple. Longing for her touch ever since this afternoon.
Your face contorts to the friction of soft thumb on rigid flesh.
Yet. Still no reply on your end.
"Baby" she drags her manicure on your tender cock to get your attention. Making you hiss, and return her gaze, witnessing her knowing smirk.
"I promise never to do something like that ever again..." Dahyun said that like she didn't regret it, all the while taking her time to drag the soft of her hand across your length. From the very tip of your engorged head, to the deepest depth that the fat of your base allowed her to push down on. "but something tells me you don't want that..."
"That you don't want me to be your pure Tofu" stroke
"monogamous..." stroke
"only yours..." stroke
"You want to share me, dont you?"
You've been made. You cuck.
She revealed more of the afternoon to you in excruciating detail while jerking you off. As hot as it was, you can't help but shift expressions. From frustration of her soft handjob, to a face that's starting to realize that she didn't know about your front row seat via the doggy cam.
She picks up on that. You see it in her face. Doubt mixing with the fear of losing someone she loved... The same face she had finding out some members were leaving JYPE way back when.
So she doubles down. Stroking you with a close grip. Harder. Almost desperate. While the other hand kneads your balls.
“This is still my favorite cock, Y/N oppa... Not John's who made me cum" your heart skips a beat
"Nor the landlord who lowers our rent... nor the janitors' who turn a blind eye for association dues..." full pause went your pulse.
This woman... not only did she admit further promiscuity, but she broke your word as a man—effectively nulling your promise to pay for every single cent of this place.
Never in your wildest dreams nightmares did you think that your wallet would ever work together with your girlfriend's holes to pay for this place. The broken promise. The treachery.
Your guts tighten, tugging your dick to stand acute. Almost flat on your belly. To which her hand never disconnects from your cock.
She spent hours jerking you off as she spat molten words of treachery that should've pushed you out the door. Not cum like a fucking fire hose.
-----
Under the refuge of the night. You lay in bed. Still.
Sifting through her hair like it untangled your feelings. Your heartstrings play dissonant chords while you allow even the moon to touch your lady laying on top of you, painting silver trimmings on her body.
"Dahyun... I'm so lost..." you told the lady laying atop you. She finished drawing nothing on your chest by sealing it with a kiss. Dahyun looks up to meet your eyes. And finds your hand without even a glance. Cupping it. Locking it. Like a promise.
She waited. Savoring the seconds it took for your heart to settle.
"I'll guide you through this" she simply said.
You chose to believe her. As she had nothing but adoration behind those tight peepers of hers.
"Did... did you... really fuck the Janitors?... And the Landlord?..." you looked away. This was all too new for you after all. "Is that why they keep staring at your ass when you're not looking?"
She didn't answer that. Making you drop your gaze and see her blushing. Hiding behind balled fist.
"N-no... DO THEY REALLY CHECK ME OUT? I ONLY SAID THAT TO GET YOU TO CUM." she was nervously giggling.
"How did you even kn--"
She traps your query with a kiss.
"Because your heart spoke to me" and there she goes again replacing the sun with that smile. That wide one that makes her look like a bean.
She hits your chest "Yah. I am not a bean" Dahyun stays her hand. Feeling the thump of your heart.
She then lay the side of her head on your chest like every thump of it was a language only she could decipher...
"Baby?... I don't want YOU to pay for everything around here." she gets up on her elbows "I want US to pay for everything. Together."
You were about to go on another one of your spiels. 'I want to treat you like royalty' 'I want to keep my promise' this that and the other thing, to which she seals your rant with a finger on your lips. Stopping you before you could start.
She lifts her eyebrows. Hinting at the possibilities. You start putting two in two together.
"What were you thinking?" you asked. Your new-found fetish beating out your principles as a man.
"Well? Remember that promotion they didn't give you last week?" she shows that idol smirk—the one you thought was reserved for freakishly spotting cameras, shining like it'll spot yet another. Soon. Very soon.
"You willing to bet your boss is a ONCE?"
--------------------------------
The next morning was like any other. Teeth brushed. Body bathed. Clothes picked out. But this time around? You were the one staying home, and she was the one going to the office.
"Okay baby, let's go through the plan one last time." you said as you helped her dry her hair.
She clears her throat. "My man" God, that phrase made your shoulders feel weightless. She smiled at that; you being all too easy to read.
"My man... THAT I LOVE... has been passed over for a promotion time and time again. And just last week, the position he's yearned for was filled by some outside hire—who knows nothing about the company despite being an up and coming prodigy scouted by all the headhunters in Seoul---" you cut her off.
"Yeah, maybe don't remind my boss about the credentials I'm up agaisnt."
"Babe, do you really think your boss will notice a word when I'm wearing THIS?" she gets up and turns, letting her free-flowing skirt give you a flash of her white panties. Easily. It was practically a belt. It wasn't clothing, it was sexual harassment waiting to happen. And the idea of it stirs your loins.
"Can't forget about this, right babe?" she said, wearing glasses that reads RayBan at the side of the frame.
-------------------------------
You counted the minutes before she got back. She was late. And every second made you think of all the possible reasons as to why. An hour, maybe two, passed before she finally got home.
"MISSION COMPLETE, BABY" Dahyun ran to you in a hug, letting you smell her after-sweat mixing with someone else's perfume. Before you could let a word out, she leads you to the bedroom with tons of kisses on your face. She pushes you to sit on the bed while she navigates her phone to open up the Meta Glasses app. She hands you her phone and sits beside you so you could watch together.
"He was so easy to get hard. So so easy. So so fast…" Your boss's age comes to mind. And her words nibble at the feet of a brewing fear..
"He was so excited. So raw. With a cock barely bigger than my hands" her gentle words tie around your neck like a noose. Dahyun kept gnawing at your ear while her hands fiddle to press play.
Her heels click and clack the floors you've trudged through a million times already. The stains, the cracks, the dirt trapped between the lines that separates the tiles. Never did you think you'd view them through her eyes. Walking toward the goal of fucking another man to get you the promotion you claim you deserve.
It wasn't hard to distinguish where your boss's office was. Only a select few was valued in your company. And management made sure the difference between the likes of you and the likes of them were distinct. The upper management's offices all look the same. Heck, even the door. Everything seemed normal at this point.
Dahyun lets herself in to get a scope of the landscape. And you peer at the familiar room layout. Wide area, grand windows, carpeted floors, and a cherry wood table at the center of it all. Fat and scotch brown, adorning curves that didn't need to prove itself as fine craftsmanship.
'Wait a minute...' you thought.
Dahyun explores with slow curiosity. The camera panning with every turn of her head. This is truly the office layout of your dreams... too much like it, in fact....
The voice in your head gets interrupted by her shaky camera work
Dahyun gets on her tippy toes to sit atop the cherry wood table. She grabs the glasses and lets you see what your boss will see once he enters. All of her. Soft cotton long sleeves up top. And below? Practically nothing. Panties barely covered by her flowy skirt. Nothing else. Not even shame. "Let's hope he's a ONCE, baby"
Click went the door. Sounding like the pin of a grenade.
"Fuck." your boss said, followed by heels of shoes sounding faster and stronger and closer to your girl.
She bites her lips at the sight of him, while the glasses were still angled for you to see her instead of your boss.
A clearer background shows. And you notice the bookshelves, hollow. The walls, clearly repainted. The floors, all too clean for your boss's nervous pacings.
Your gut tells you something was wrong, but your cock blocks it out. Add Dahyun's hand tracing the pipe-shaped hardness behind your house shorts.
"I'm happy that that's your reac--mHPPh" he lunges, causing her to drops the glasses on the table, not letting you see anything past her hips up. Hips and thighs that your boss was already busy kneading. Mandhandling.
You didn't didn't need visuals to know that your boss was devouring your woman like he was trying to suck out her soul.
His lust was immediate, you could tell from the audio alone. You didnt need to see it. But God did you want to.
Dahyun kissed your cheek with equal frenzy as you tune into the video on her phone. "By the way? Your boss was ONCE." She smiled agaisnt your skin.
"What the hell is a ONCE." he said in a hurry. Then unbuckled his pants in a hurry. Spread your girlfriend's legs. In. A. Hurry. As he works his pants off, he crouches, finally revealing his face. Smug. Young. Definitely not your boss's. Your thumb presses pause so hard and so fast that you almost cracked the screen.
"BABY..." Your world flips. This wasn't your boss.
"bABY!... YOU FUCKED THE WRONG GUY... I TOLD YOU WHICH OFFICE RIGHT?!" you raised your voice in panic. You weren't mad. Maybe your cock was, sure, but you more so concerned. All her efforts poured down the drain.
"Yes you did... but your boss said that firing this clown would cost your company an arm. And promoting you would cost a leg. Baby I threw everything at your boss, but he said if he agreed to our terms, there would be no more company for you to supervise... so..."
"You made Keith quit"
She bites your earlobe softly. And she slowly drags her teeth away from it. "Exactly."
It made sense.
But sound logic didn't make you the stop feeling like shit.
Because first he took your promotion. And now, your girl.
Dahyun's smile twitched like she was fighting for it to not crook. Like she knew this twist would make this sweet all the more bitter. More interesting.
With deft hands, she resumes the video and takes off your shorts and boxers. Fast. Scrunching, and scratching courtesy of her manicure. The one she told you she had gotten done so she looks prettier for your boss. A treat reaped by the man you hate the most in the office.
"Ooh myyy, babyyy" she purred. Seeing your cock. So wet and fat and constantly streaming precum. Begging for attention. She moaned with every bead of arousal you leaked. "Ooohhh my my my~"
You were about to whine with how she merely stared at your erect cock, until she looks back at the video.
Dahyun strokes Keith's cock. Harder and harder she went. Not because he was hot—he was. This wunderkind doesn't shut up about his gym sessions—but because he was... not gifted... Her strokes were not ones to please a lover. No. It goading. And expectant. Like she was demanding more, but was far too polite to ask 'this was it?' outright.
Like on queue, she palms your heated balls with her frigid hands. Dragging up and down on sync with the way she gave Keith a handjob. She palmed you so hard that your cock stuck to your belly. So hard that your pubes tugged and hitched and "Fuckkk"
She treated your words like the gun that starts a race. Making a fucking mess on your cock. Her fist closed around your tip and recklessly spread friction and precum all across your shaft. Up and down. She abandons video Dahyun's pace. Her handjob rung squelch noises across the room. Each stroke more uncaring of the filth she's making than the last.
You notice her eyes peeking sideways, checking the video yet again.
"Mmmhh now the nipples, slut"
Your blood burns at his derogation, but it reaches boiling point once she follows his instruction.
Both in the video. And onto you.
Keith was tall. Taller than you. So Dahyun didn't need to hunch so awkwardly to have her tongue play with his hairy nipples, all the while the love of your life never forgot to keep jerking this jerk's cock.
Actions she bring to life by making you experience it first hand.
"NnGHHHH" came your whining, as this was your first time with this sensation. You felt so sensitive. Your flesh crawls into goosebumps. Your short hairs stand as your Dubu introduces you to a new realm of pleasure thanks to your rival Keith.
Keith... Your mind was blendered at this point. Brain stem tugged at every which way. Not knowing if you should thank the rat bastard or shove his ass to the ground. Your eyes cross. But here goes the video again pulling you back to Earth.
Slap slap slap slap slap went his cock on her entrance. Giving you a hint of how wet the both of them were. Your girl, and your rival.
She gets on top of you like a good cowgirl. Slowly descending. Your wetness mixing with hers as you part her innie pussy. She moans. And your lungs rattle anger. For right now, she sounded exactly like she did in the video. Hinting that her satisfaction with you only equaled her satisfaction with Keith.
"Can you feel it?" once fully bottomed out, she rocks her hips in small circles. "Can you feel the indentation his cock left inside me?"
"Feel it baby, feel how much deeper you can reach compared to his crooked cock" she fucking worshipped your length, but the face she made said otherwise. Her legs quiver with hardship as she ascends.
"Feel the details of his cock etched into me... Feel how... You're bigger. And yet he STILL got to fuck me." she slammed herself down. Your balls hitting her thick tofu thighs.
Keith had the upper hand, for in the video, your girl was letting him rut and rut and rut like a fucking dog burying a bone.
She ascends yet again.
"Totally not embarrassing, right?" slam, then up again
"That someone so inferior is treating me like you would" slam.
"Or maybe, like John would" that was the last straw. Before the former TWICE member could slam back down, you hold the swell of her hip to stop her. And you fucking impale your cock inside her.
She moaned.
Or at least she tried.
For all she could procure was a soundless scream as you claim her.
"Like I would" you reaffirm. Accepting that John absolutely wrecked your girl yesteday. It lit a fire inside you. A fire that aims to to cauterize John's indelible name off her mouth.
You angle, making sure that you pierce that 'indent' that she claims Keith left. "Keep those legs steady baby" you said through grit teeth, as you rub and rub and rub Keith's claim in her insides.
Her cries of pleasure bounce off the walls of your room, drowning out the sounds of Keith railing your beloved.
"MY LEGS ARE ON FIRE" she screamed. And she was right. You see her legs spasming as they were hooked on Keith's elbow and shoulder.
"THEY WERE. THEY REALLY WERE, BABY, I'M SO SORR--" her legs give out, the sear of lactic acid on her thighs and quads were all too much, causing her to spear herself on your cock. The unguided descent made her spine quake like it threatened to crumble, as your cock threatened to pierce her cervix right through.
While you? Your heart tinged. For her legs had strength for Keith, but only enough for Keith. Like he had drained her strength and left you with nothing.
That didn't sit right with you, so without undoing your connection, you flip her. Missionary, like in the video. Two can play this game. You place the phone next to her head and you roll your hips like you've never before. Exploring her sex like you've never before. Making her pleasure your mission like you've never before.
Your ass cheeks tighten with the way you hoist every enter. Digging through her floor and ending it with a cock flat on her cervix. "nnGHH, NNGHHH"
Your exits weren't reprieve, they were extensions of your intention. To pleasure. To love. To mark every inch of her sex like you were branding her. Rather than pulling back, you were widening your legs. Squishing her perineum using your base. Physics did the work, as the cramped hole caused your cock to scrape her roof. "FUCKK"
Dahyun cussed with your every repeating motion. "FUCK. FUCK. FUCK."
"I'M YOUR MAN, KIM DAHYUN" you said that like she didn't know. Like you didn't say it every time you bed her. You were right to do so though, as this pottymouth wasn't the same Catholic woman you fell for. And you made sure to introduce your new self to her new self.
"fUCK... FUCK FUCK FUUh----" her insides shut around you so tight that it felt like she's squeezing you out. Making you pump all that much harder. The noises she made weren't hers anymore. It was satisfying violence. Like glass shattering. Similar to the image you thought you've accurately painted of her.
She gripped the sheets at first, then the pillows, then the headboard. Anything to root her onto reality. Her hands looked like they were swatting the air violently, unknowing what to use as an anchor—for each of your hurried thrusts caused beautiful ripples onto her pudgy white thighs. Heavenly turbulent.
"H- H- H- " she had nothing left but tentative huffs of air rid of profanities, saving her breath to stay conscious. "Where, baby?
"Where can I cum?"
"Where can I cum?"
You ask the same question as the phone. Making you finally look up at it again after what felt like hours of rutting your girl.
Dahyun puts a hand on Keith's defined abs to stop his pumpings.
An action she mimics on your less-chiseled tummy. The only difference was her face... or rather... mask...
In the video, she had on the same mask she wore yesterday. You remember, right? The mask she wore as John turned her into his toy. One of concern, but with eyes so epicly dilated that its curving into hearts.
But you weren't Keith. So you hold her down. And ;ock her hips around your waist, so you can freely piston her to chase your ending. Your panting mixed with laughter cause you are a petty petty man. You wanted to experience something Keith never will.
You were almost there "I'm gONNA fUCKING PAINT YOUR INSIDES KIM DAHY--"
"w-WAIT!" you heard her video self protest, to which Keith replies by swatting your girlfriend's hand away and grab her hips. Same as you were doing right now, but without warning. Without the need to verbalize your claim on her body. There was no pettiness. He just took what he wanted the same way he did your job. Rocking his hips as he deposits his seed deep inside your Kim Dahyun.
His conservative length led to his cum leaking out so easily. So fast. You mightve wanted to paint her insides, but Keith? Keith painted her thighs with the way his spunk dripped down on them. Like some sick perk of having a small cock.
That visual didn't push you off the edge, it SHOVED you to oblivion. Straining your balls so hard that the line between pain and pleasure began to fade, and you cum ropes, strings, and fireworks inside your girlfriend. Cock pressing hard to push inside her limit. Until her insides tell you that this was as deep as her biology went. Cock pressing like you're coping that 'at least Keith's small cock never got to taste her womb.'
But you knew.
You knew that you'll have to 'experience something Keith never will' another day. Cause tonight, you are on equal footing with him—creampie-ing the love of your life. Despite how much longer your cock was.
.
.
.
.
.
.
The video ends. Frozen at the last frame.
The room only sounds chased breaths.
You still had your softening cock deep inside her. Locking your offsprings in this former idol.
Dahyun had on the most whimsical face. Proud. And satisfied. Like she asked for everything and got everything.
None of the footages ever showed this. All of her snow white self in the most wrecked of ways. Hands up. Sweat shining sheens on her pits and tits and tummy and oh God you've never seen her look so willingly vulnerable. Unguarded, by choice. To you. And only you.
You feel butterflies mob your stomach. Like this was the first time you've seen Kim Dahyun. The real Kim Dahyun.
With locked hips, you bend down. Gently. Shy. Like this was the first time you two ever had sex. First time to have her face to face. Your lips travel around. Chin, cheek, temple, forehead.
She giggles at the suddenly shy stance that her stud took tonight. So she takes initiative. Grabbing you by the shoulders and kissing you to seal the night.
Your slumber had tough competition tonight.
For this Dahyun was surreal reality. One that you never knew you dreamed of.
I wrote this a lot longer than my past smuts since I feel like I owe that to all the people who—after all this time—are STILL waiting for part 2🤣
TMI: I was actually on the heels of doing something so irritatingly convoluted and complex until I realized that I should erase everything and write something that would satisfy me, not scrutiny.
I hope this was worth the 2 years, 10 weeks, and 2 days wait!
P.S. Thank you for all the words and all the "definitely not cucks" in my inbox. The words you left there—although never replied to—truly did make a difference upon writing this piece.
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Here we are! Two fics in a week, been a while since that happened. lol
Cuck Reader, Sana x not you
Length 2.5K
You turn on the system, eyes widening to see Sana standing naked before a man. You watch on the screen as Sana gets between his legs, a playful smile on her lips as she grasps his cock. “It’s so big,” she giggles, her hand moving slowly along his length. Sana gathers her saliva and lets it drip onto the head of his cock, watching it flow down before finally moving her hand and spreading it around his thick shaft. Sana looks eager, like she’s holding herself back. “Time to eat,” she says softly before wrapping her lips around the tip, her tongue swirling quickly as she begins to bob her head. One of her hands goes between her legs, and she touches herself, moaning softly around his cock. Occasionally, your girlfriend glances up at him with excited eyes. Sana begins taking more of him into her mouth, and her tongue runs along the underside, tracing his veins.
You watch as Minsoo places his hand on the back of her head and forces Sana to the base of his cock. You can hear her clearly, choking, gagging on it as it hits the back of her throat. A thick layer of spit coats his cock as her body makes more of it. Through it all, Sana’s moans get louder. She’s pushing her fingers deeper into her slit at the rough treatment. You can feel your cock straining against your pants as you watch her do her work. You can see just about every angle with all the cameras around the room. Your girlfriend was on her knees being facefucked by another man.
When he finally lets go of her head and gives her a chance to breathe, you can just barely see her face as she leans back. Drool coats her chin, dribbling down on her chest. Sana smiles, clearly happy with the results. Her hand stays on his cock, stroking it before she goes back in for more. Sana pushes herself closer to the edge, her fingers rubbing her clit now as she pushes his length into the back of her throat. It’s a tight fit; she has to have her jaw wide open to fit him in, but listening to his moans pushes her onward. Sana could feel him throbbing. She briefly debated pulling away and having him cum on her face, but decided that that could be done later. She cradles his heavy balls in her hand, giving them gentle squeezes as he explodes in her mouth. Each time his cock throbs, Sana can feel more of his pouring down her throat, filling her belly. A warmth spread across her body.
Sana bobs her head twice more as he nears the end of his climax. When she pulls away, she makes sure to have her mouth wide open, showing just how well she ate every drop up. She licks her lips and thanks him for the meal before standing up. Sana places her hand on her stomach, slowly dragging it lower until she reaches her needy cunt, “Can you feed this mouth too?” She asks in a sweet, needy voice. Your cock throbs as you hear your girlfriend begging for another man’s cum. Your eyes remain glued to the scene, watching as he pulls Sana to the bed, getting her on all fours. “Minsoo!” Sana cries out as he drives his length into her cunt. Her warm walls cling to his cock, refusing to let go now that they’re connected.
He grabs her arms, pulling them as he drives himself deep into her. Sana’s moans grow louder and louder with each thrust. The only sound between them was the clap of their bodies from the strong thrusts. “How do you like this? Better right?” He grunts.
Sana can hardly speak; moans keep spilling out of her. Minsoo drops one of Sana’s arms and brings his hand down on her ass. The sharp sting from the hit makes her yelp. Your girlfriend’s toes curl as pain mixes with pleasure. “Better! So much better! Bigger, thicker, longer!” She moans out. Sana was being split in half. If that wasn’t enough, he was ramming into her womb with every thrust. The sensation had her drooling onto the bed. Here was your girlfriend telling another man how much better he was, and you were sitting there watching it. You don’t even know when you started jerking off to it.
You continued to watch the action. Minsoo delivered more rough smacks to Sana’s ass, turning the formerly pale skin a bright red, his hand imprinted on her flesh. “More! Hit me again!” Sana cried out, loving each smack that she got. It couldn’t go on forever, though. He pulled her against him and grabbed her tits, fingers digging into her flesh as he kneaded the soft mounds. Sana started to whine, a sound you know all too well. She was getting close to cumming. Her walls were clamping down like a vice on his shaft, already trying to milk his cock for more of his seed. He was pushing her over the edge. One hand went to Sana’s sensitive nipples, pulling on the dusty pink nub while the other hand went to her clit. Her walls continued to tighten around his cock. “I-I’m cumming!” Sana cried out. Her body jerked and twitched as she came on his cock.
Minsoo continued to thrust, speeding up as he got close. You had a prime view of Sana’s tits bouncing as he fucked her; you could see the pleasure on her face as he buried himself inside her. The tip of his cock was pressed right against Sana’s womb as he came, flooding her body with thick and potent baby batter. Sana rested against his body, reveling in the moment. She could hardly feel her body with how much it tingled. Sana collapsed onto the bed, softly moaning. She could just barely feel Minsoo slapping his cock against her ass. Despite the weakness in her arms and legs, Sana did her best. She got onto her knees and arched her back, presenting her ass to him. Your girlfriend reached back and spread her cheeks. “Here too. My boyfriend has never been allowed in here.” Sana cooed as she felt the thick cock slide between her cheeks. She bit her lip, holding back a smile as she waited for him to push inside her other hole.
“You dirty slut,” With how covered his cock was in cum, and Sana’s nectar, Minsoo pushed ahead, prodding the ring of muscle, slowly stretching it. Sana’s muffled moans still managed to fill the air. The pleasure she felt was just too good. He was stretching her so much. Sana was feeling full, and he wasn’t even all the way in. Minsoo pressed on Sana’s back, forcing a deeper arch. He was enjoying himself; he had a whore of a woman in front of him who was seemingly okay with everything. He would’ve sworn he could ram his entire length into her ass in one go and she’d thank him. He didn’t, though; he pushed in slowly. If Sana’s pussy was tight, her ass was levels above that. It was crushing. It was almost like he was being sucked in as well. “Fucking dirty whore,” he grunted. “So fucking tight. I bet you wouldn’t even be able to feel your boy toy.”
“He’s nothing,” Sana groaned. “You’re so much better. You’re going to ruin me,”
“I’m not even halfway in,” he replied. You could’ve sworn Sana’s eye rolled into the back of her head at this point. He was still holding her down when he finally had enough and pushed the last few inches into her petite body. Sana came instantly, nectar splashing onto the bed, her walls trapping him inside her ass.
“Fuck, fuck me up,” Sana mumbled. He was buried deep in her guts. Sana knew she was in for a ride. She pushed her ass back as much as she could in her position. “Move, please, I need you to fuck me.” Sana slipped a hand between her legs, rubbing her clit as she continued. “Use me, fuck this tight ass, make it yours. Reshape my insides,” she begged. After a moment, Minsoo finally started moving, dragging his cock out of her, leaving just the tip inside before ramming it all the way back inside. Sana came again, her mind slowly leaving her. Her body was on autopilot, her hands never left her clit as Minsoo used her.
You listened to Sana’s moans, her whines, and whimpers for more. You had already cum a few times watching the erotic sight of your girlfriend being taken from another man, yet you couldn’t stop jerking off. Your eyes remained glued to the screen, watching Sana take his cock like it was second nature. She kept begging for more, “You’re the only one I need. Fuck me like the cheap whore I am! Cum inside your cheap fleshlight.” She would say whatever Minsoo wanted her to if it meant he would keep fucking her. She was degrading you and herself. You had never heard Sana speak so vulgarly. It all had to end soon enough, though. Minsoo was reaching his limit. He gripped Sana’s shoulder and placed the other hand on her waist, holding her tightly as he reached his climax. He pushed himself against Sana’s plush ass and unloaded, filling her with cum again.
“There’s so much,” Sana mumbles, placing her hand on her stomach. She had both holes filled with another man’s cum. She was on cloud nine, smiling like an idiot as she was pumped full of the stuff. Sana couldn’t support herself at all, collapsing once Minsoo let go of her body. Sweaty and dripping with cum, Sana was flipped over onto her back and moved until her head hung off the bed’s edge. Minsoo slapped his cock against her face, degrading your girlfriend further. It wasn’t like she hated it, though. Sana opened her mouth, welcoming the sour appendage into her mouth, lapping up the cum that remained on his cock, while he played with her tits. Sana popped him out of her mouth and kissed his shaft, dragging her tongue along his length as she sang its praises. “I’ll never need another cock as long as you’re here. This thing is perfect. My boyfriend doesn’t even compare; he’s a shrimp. Now make sure you mark your property.” She said, kissing it for longer before taking it back into her mouth.
In this position, you have to watch Minsoo thrust his cock down Sana’s throat; you could’ve sworn you were seeing it bulge. Sana, for her part, didn’t seem to mind, even as his balls smacked against her face. Her fingers were circling her clit in slow circles. “Damn, right you’ll never need anyone else. I’ll be fucking this pussy until it’s made into my image.” Sana had no response, she couldn’t what with his cock down her throat. Her moans were enough to tell him what he wanted to know, though. Minsoo was quickly reaching his final climax. Sana’s throat vibrating around his cock was becoming too much. He shifted his hand to her throat, wrapping them tightly around Sana as he rammed his cock down her throat. He was on the edge, and Sana gently tapped his legs, reminding him of what she wanted.
Minsoo pulled out at the final second and stroked his cock, pouring his semen onto Sana’s face, painting it with a few spurts before moving over her body and coating her body in a layer of his cum as well. Sana brought her hand to her face, scooping some of his cum off her face and tasting it as she lay there.
Minsoo took in the sight of the ruined woman, snapping a picture of Sana holding the peace sign across her face before going to the shower and eventually leaving your girlfriend by herself. The whole time Sana stayed on the bed, refusing to move her aching body. The only part of her that moved was her fingers as they gingerly moved over her body, pinching her nipples or rubbing her clit.
A few minutes later, the door to the room opens, a moment later, and Sana turns her head and smiles. “Did I do good?” She asks with a smile of pure happiness.
“You were great,”
“My acting was top-notch, right?” Sana follows you with her eyes as you sit beside her sweaty and stained body.
“I think you really fooled him.”
“It’s not so hard,” Sana giggles. “Did you get off, though? Or do I need to…” Sana pressed her tits together, offering them to you.
“Yes, I did. We can do that at home.” You place your hand on Sana’s thigh, “Though, I have to admit, I do want to reclaim you right now.”
Sana smiles sweetly, her nose scrunching as she boops your nose. “Now, mister, you just said we can do that at home. I’ll go take a shower. You need to get the cameras down. Then we can watch it together later.” Sana’s eyes smile at you as she mentions the last part.
“Yeah, you’re right. Take as long as you need. Are you going to need some help getting into the shower?”
“I can handle it,” Sana replied. You watch as she tries to sit up, grunting as she does so slowly. It was almost comical to see her struggle so much. You end up helping her, pushing her back until she’s seated. Slowly but surely, Sana waddles her way to the bathroom. Once the door closes, you get up and start removing the cameras from around the room, making sure not to leave a trace. You pack everything up and wait for Sana, then the two of you leave the hotel and return home after a couple of hours.
Sana smiles happily as she watches a replay of the action while she bounces on your cock. She was more than thankful about the situation; both of you got what you wanted. You got to watch your girlfriend lose herself to pleasure time and time again, only to reclaim her later. And Sana would get to live out two fantasies every time, being treated like a toy and being watched. Knowing you were always watching the sessions with strangers turned her on more than anything else. As Sana watches herself getting facefucked, she recalls the beginning.
You had caught her masturbating on the home surveillance, and when you brought it to her attention, she did it again the next day, calling out to you. She had never gotten off so quickly. Sana presses pause on the tape and brings up that memory, giggling about how surprised she was. The two of you laugh, remembering the beginning of this kinkier side to your relationship. As you do, Sana’s phone buzzes with a notification. It was Minsoo. She rolls her eyes and shows you the message. It was the picture he had snapped, followed by demands of another day together. Sana deleted the contact, “Once and only once,” she says before huffing. “These kinds always try to act so tough. They could never understand,” Sana says, before wrapping her arms around you and pressing her lips against yours. The two of you continue your lovemaking, plans forming on when to do this again.
An Yujin x Reader/OC ft. Liz (Kim Jiwon) as supporting character
Word Count: 11.2K, smut.
A/N + Summary:
A silly and not-so-serious self-inserted POV fic drafted when IVE visited Los Angeles a while ago. Thank you so much @autumnyacorn and @dotoliwrites for beta reading and the thoughtful comments! I learned a lot from you two to improve my writing! >3
(Fanprose has one day of early access, see it here: Fanprose)
TW: (sweaty) Car Sex, POV fantasy, idol x fan, bias-cucking
Mid spring, I wander on the streets of Los Angeles to enjoy my long- awaited Spring break. The cloudy cool air brushes my face, Southern California is not always full of sunshine, sometimes the sky is also dim.
Hollywood is still crowded with tourists; I didn’t join their party because I’ve shown multiple family friends around the area to the point where I can basically memorize the orders of the names on the Wall of Fame.
L.A. isn’t always my place; I live in a city where many people would have no idea where it is until I say “It's a 20-minute drive from downtown L.A.” Right now, I am back here, to this place where I mostly visit to relax and to temporarily forget.
The winter quarter had been cruel, failing a class or not is not as important as getting this break ASAP. Fortunately, I am a dedicated DIVE (IVE fandom name) and blasting their songs can restore some of my lost energy – especially right after they released their second full album REVIVE+.
ODD is my favorite song amongst them despite it not being the title track. The lyrics are very poetic, beautifully written. The message of embracing imperfection motivated me out of the self-doubt swamp after failing the first exam of the quarter. “Not bad, this imperfect feeling… asymmetrical lines are beautiful.” I murmur to myself while staring at the asymmetric letter “F” on my Canvas portal.
It’d be nice if I could write a fiction using the lyrics as an anchor… Anyways.
I keep walking, letting the breeze caress my face and my body. My hair is a bit messy, swaying in the wind as I paid little to no attention throughout the quarter to take care of them. Surrounding me is this messy crowd, people from all over the country chit-chat as they blend in to be a part of the City of Angels. How I wish I can see my angels one day?
That day is way sooner than I ever could’ve thought.
-
My phone in the pocket buzzes, a two-line message from my best friend Henry.
“Yo bro, Bob and I are coming to pick you up in a bit! Send us ur address when ur ready.”
Both of them are dedicated DIVEs like myself, and as they now come back from their universities at the east coast during Spring Break, we decided to hang out in Korea Town here in L.A. All three of us had never seen IVE in person before, nor had any of us experienced a concert before. So, now it is a good chance to talk about the plan that takes the virginity of two “first-timers” on one occasion.
I’ll be standing at the Starbucks right next to that In-n-Out, see you in a bit.
-
A few minutes later, I see Bob’s car drifting towards me, Henry waving at me exaggeratedly with both of his arms at the passenger’s seat. I quickly hop on to the backseat before the car behind us even reacts with a honk. Well, that's downtown traffic for you.
“Yo! Long time no see! The last time we met was already…last time! Maybe it was last summer?” Henry greets me with his iconic, yapper-spirited energy.
“Ay I know right? How’s the photocard collection quest going for your hot “wife” Naoi Rei? You said you’re gonna get 100 of them by the next time we meet!” I roast Henry.
A lovesick grin grows on his face, “Ah… about that… almost there…How about you? I bet you’re still watching your I AM Liz fan-cam every day.”
“And that Baddie Yujin clip as well. Correction, it’s ‘Mommy Yujin’.” Bob adds on, hands still on the steering wheel.”
“Fuck you both,” I shoot back, laughing. “Dimplez ship is the best ship. I’m not horny like you two. Go back to drooling over your Gaeul ODD performance video, Bob.”
Bob smirks. “Hard to deny. Gaeul killed it. Even you said ODD was your favorite song from the album too, didn’t you?”
The banter flows easily as we drive toward Korea Town, palm trees swaying outside the windows. The cool breeze through the cracked window calms my nerves. Everything feels peaceful.
Until we turn the corner into the K-Town block.
The sidewalk is packed. We try our best to squeeze our car into a miniscule streetside parking spot before all three of us walked out of the car. What us three saw shocked us. In front of the Korean restaurant we normally hit up, there’re groups of people waiting outside. Many of them have cameras of different models; some pace back and forth impatiently, others stand in tight clusters, whispering and constantly checking their phones. The atmosphere feels… off.
“Yo, since when did it become another TikTok influencer’s place? I’ve never seen so many people waiting here.” My brain is full of question marks.
“I don’t know, maybe it just got viral or something,” Bob mutters.
“Fuck it… plan changed! They said two hours, we ain’t waiting that long…even though they got good banchan. Let’s just get some fried chicken instead.” Henry comes back from talking to the shop owner, face full of disappointment.
I sigh, starting to trudge back to our parked car across the street. I take a glance at the groups of people waiting outside of the restaurant. Someone has a stabilizer rig that looks like it costs more than the meal itself. All that for a 30-second Instagram Reels? When we walk past a young man in sunglasses, I overhear him on the phone, “They’re this popular even in L.A.??? No way I can make it… I drove two hours down the south!”
Who are “they”? Those TikTok vloggers and Instagram “GRWM” girls? And why are they popular in Los Angeles in the first place? I can’t recognize any of them. I think to myself. You see, this is one of the things I dislike about social media culture. One big name says a restaurant is good, everyone starts to hop on the bandwagon. Man, I really miss the old times when us three just drive by and have a quick, authentic Korean style lunch. They got really nice banchan and kimchi jjigae. They remind me of how we just regularly came to this place to hang out before we went to college in different cities last year.
Henry and Bob seemed to be upset as well, but there is always a Plan B, and Plan B today is to get some Korean style fried chicken at the next block – no lines at all. We decide to order to go as there is a park right near the restaurant area, and it’ll be a huge waste of the California sunshine so why not turn it into a picnic and eat outdoors?
It takes about ten minutes before the cashier waves at us for collection, so I walk back into the store from outside. “Thank you so much! By the way, do you know when that Korean restaurant down the street got popular? They said the line is two hours today!” I casually chat with the guy.
“Hm? I don’t know, maybe just a group of tourists today? I never knew you have to wait that long?” He seems confused as well while handing me our order.
“Well, then it’s God’s message for us to try some chicken today.” I give him a genuine smile before walking out towards Henry and Bob.
We settle our stuff on a wooden bench in the park; a few geese idle on the grass like they’re the owner of this place. Henry unties the plastic bag and takes out the paper box with our fried chicken — garlic gochujang as Henry likes it. Well, as a Korean himself, maybe he has the final say in deciding the order.
We immediately sink to the bench, pick up a few pairs of plastic gloves to start our feast.
“What do you think, Mr. Korean? Is it authentic?” Bob mutters with his mouth already stuffed with a big chunk of chicken, dipped in that sweet, spicy sauce.
“Mhm… it is decent, the gochujang tastes a bit like my mom’s cooking.” Henry responds after taking a bite.
“Your mom? Or your mommy Rei?” I of course cannot let go the chance to tease him; I smirk as Henry’s ear turns red once that name hits him.
“Damn… Surely I’d be more than happy to try out her cooking, just…no chance!”
“You’d like to taste HER, not her cooking.” Bob adds on with a devilish grin.
“You two horny asses, and you?” Henry points at me, pretending to be angry despite his smile that almost reaches his ears. “Bob, did you know that this man”, he turns to Bob, “Wrote a whole-ass 15 thousand words fanfiction about his ‘Mommy Yujin’? I bet your keyboard is already auto-correcting “Monday” into “Mommy” huh?”
It is now my turn to turn my face into a tomato. Well, I could argue it is because of the spice from the chicken, but all of us know that it is a blatant lie.
“It... it was just one fic! It was for... for the readers! And I used it as a metaphor for her ... leadership!” I defend myself, weakly.
“All caps. You were the one typing ‘she’s so damn hot, I even wanna call her mommy’ in Discord! Stop pretending you’re not down bad for this girl.” Henry adds on, I know I lost at the moment he mentioned the Discord group chat - where we had and still have a lot of ‘honest confessions’. Well, you can’t blame me for that! Unlike Henry and Bob, I don’t have a girlfriend. So, it is quite natural that I need some ways to ease my loneliness, aren’t I?
Although it being the truth, tactical decline is the core of the banter. “I’m not down bad at all! Y’all know me well, my number one bias is Liz. I love her, purely, respectfully.” I claim.
“This guy is playing innocent now, too fake,” Bob sighs exaggeratedly while grabbing another piece of chicken from the box. “Liz fic when?”
“Never!” I almost shout immediately, “You know me, I... I just can’t even think about those scenes with her. I’d imagine wrapping her with a blanket and kissing her forehead instead.”
“Okay okay, whatever you say, pure hearted fanboy.” Bob exclaims.
“Hey guys, you know IVE is in L.A. now, right?” Henry suddenly asks.
“Oh yeah, I saw Yujin’s Story earlier today.” Bob responds casually.
“Wait, what the fuck? For real?” I almost choke on the chicken as I heard it, “but well, we ain’t gotta see them, there’re like ten million people around the metropolitan area.”
“Plus, they’re probably eating somewhere high-end, like a VIP room and tinted glass minivan type of stuff. They ain’t coming to Koreatown for food they can eat every day.” Henry says.
“If we ACTUALLY meet them, who’s gonna lose it all first?” I casually let the question slip: it’s gonna be another round of banter, but that’s why we love yapping with each other. “Henry is probably going to start reciting all the Rei verses out loud until he gets tackled by the bodyguards” Bob laughs blatantly.
“And you are going to lose your dignity, your sanity and all of your savings the moment you see Liz.” Henry fires at me.
“Hard to say I won’t, but losing my savings is foreseeable. You know the ticket sale for their concert opens next week right? Don’t blame me for not reminding you.”
“Wait really? I don’t even know they announced the date already?” Henry seems confused and excited at the same time.
“You’re a fake fan bro. Let me also set a reminder to get tickets,” Bob reaches his phone on the bench next to him, “Oh fuck! I forgot to wipe my hand! The sauce got all over my screen!” Bob screams while wiping the gochujang on his phone with a napkin.
“Hahahaha, you deserve it.” Henry laughs out loud.
-
Two whole boxes of chicken disappear amidst our chatter; I finish the last piece and chugged the rest of my Celsius before padding my full tummy.
“Hmm... what y’all doing later? Do I get a drive home?” I ask them.
“Oh! We’re actually gonna head for my girlfriend’s place for a party. You said you're not interested in those before, right?” Bob lifts his gaze from his phone.
“Nah, count me out. For God's sake, please wear a condom, and don’t get her pregnant.” I shake my head.
“Not that type of party, don’t you worry.” He stands up, “well... it had been nice seeing you man, it had really been a while.” Following him is Henry, “Yeah, time flies! Anyway, y’all hit me up on the date when tickets go on sale! We should hop on a voice chat, definitely need a plan to secure our chances.”
“Will do! See you all around, I’ll just chill here for a bit.” I stand up too, waving at them as they walk towards the car.
Seeing them leave, I sit back down on the bench, plugging in my headphones to enjoy this moment of peace. I select my IVE playlist, watching the geese waddling around the grass. A few joggers or dog-walkers occasionally run by, and I give a polite nod to each of them. It’s a really rare chance I can just sit here under the SoCal sunshine and not have to worry about anything. What an afternoon!
Soon, I feel my eyelids getting so heavy. The last thing in my mind is Liz’s “Unreal” playing and me thinking, “it is not a bad idea to have a nap.”
The world turns black.
-
I don’t know how long had passed, maybe an hour? Damn, it was a really nice nap. I open my eyes, almost blinded by the sunlight. The park is strangely empty. The joggers had moved on, and the geese were silent near the pond. There is this faint metallic taste in my mouth and my lips are dry as hell. I feel strangely warm and relaxed: it had been so long since I’ve had the luxury to take a long nap, I’d as well just continue sleeping.
Wait.
Wait a second.
I feel like I almost fall unconscious again. But I see a group of people exiting the backdoor of that Korean restaurant we skipped earlier. Something feels…off. Why are they wearing such long coats? And with masks? And with sunglasses? I must be hallucinating right now. Do TikTok influencers have sasaengs these days? Look at those two bulk men in suits, I swear to God they’re bodyguards. Wait a second, is that....
She walks with her arms crossed, her chin tilting at that precise, elegant angle that suggests she wasn't just walking to a car; she is reclaiming a runway. It is a gait I’d analyzed in a hundred airport arrival clips—the "Wony-walk."
She is physically taller than the men in suits, her silhouette cutting through the hazy LA heat with a sharp, expensive precision. There is a glimmer of a silver heart-shaped pendant swinging against her chest, catching the sun like a strobe light.
It’s her. My brain didn't even need the confirmation of a face. That poised, that "above-the-rest-of-the-world" energy—it’s Jang Wonyoung. And if the "Center of the Center" is here, then the rest of my universe is standing right behind her.
My universer takes off her mask for some air, at that moment, my heart stops beating. Her gaze is shining so bright and clear like an energized puppy despite her minimal makeup, I’ll never mistake her for anyone else.
The universe just put my angels 20 feet away from me, at a random park in Los Angeles. I rub my eyes, trying to open them wider. Confusion floods my brain like how my adrenaline does.
They shouldn’t be here... they should be in those high-end restaurants that have a reservation one year from now. Maybe some VIP lounges in Beverly Hills. Or maybe visiting some random venues of local sports teams as guests. The Los Angeles Clippers can be a nice idea. Any way they’d like, but definitely not in the back alley with dozens of paper boxes behind a Korean restaurant in downtown L.A. where even people like myself call it an affordable place.
I put my wrist between my lips and bite down hard. This is the standard protocol I have for myself to test if I’m dreaming. I hope the pain will be as brutal as possible, so I know I am not hallucinating when I say “I just saw IVE near a parking lot in downtown L.A.”
Instead, I feel the adrenaline spike and this very familiar feeling of fight and flight. This feeling that I’ve experienced countless times sitting in an exam, panicking and not knowing what to do. It almost cost me though. They’re walking closer and closer towards that parking lot nearby, where three black minivans parked parallel. My window is closing.
If I sit, I am a coward. I’m singlehandedly killing any potential fairytale stories before they even have a chance to start.
If I run, I’m a creep. And those big men in black suits are going to tackle my skinny body within a second without any effort. I’d be pushed away and it’d be the most embarrassing way possible to give my self-introduction to IVE.
I stand up and start walking.
One, two, three, four, five, six.
Gaeul, Yujin, Rei, Wonyoung, Liz, Leeseo.
They’re right there. They’re so close, yet so far away. My heart is hammering so frantically that I forget my chest exists. My cheeks and ears burn albeit someone just set a fire on my face. Well, they absolutely did.
I keep walking, picking up my pace just slightly so I don’t look suspicious.
Closer, I can smell the lingering floral scent of their perfume. Not just expensive, but overwhelmingly distant.
Even closer, and it is at the point where some actions are necessary, otherwise I’d walk right into them. A manager-like man in a polo shirt, with a transparent earpiece puts himself in the middle of the walkway. Right between me and my dreams come true.
“Excuse me, no stopping. Private time here, please keep walking.” He says, with a slight accent and a professional, emotionless tone. His palm sticks out facing me like a “Stop” sign.
I freeze, and the hesitation was nearly lethal. He quickly turns and nods at the man in suits, mouthing something in another language.
The members keep walking, don’t even bother looking in my direction like similar shenanigans had happened countless number of times. Well, I can understand that certainly. But I’m not a stalker! I... I need to prove it to him before I get swept away!
“No, please!!!” I raise my pitch just a little bit, hoping I won’t scare away the girls. “I... I am a DIVE! I’m NOT a sasaeng! I... I live right here... and I was just walking by! I... I have this...” My expression stutters thanks to the extreme nervousness.
But I need to persuade him. I can see his tense facial expression just eases by a bit. And I have a lifeline.
I reach for my pocket with my violently trembling hand. The thing I’m looking for is on my phone. To be exact, it is between my phone and my phone case.
Clack…
The crisp sound breaks the pressurized silence as my plastic phone case drops on the concrete walkway. I don’t bother to pick it up at all. Instead, I carefully show the managers these two photo cards I’ve been putting in my phone case throughout the journey of being a DIVE.
First one, ATTITUDE era Liz. Blonde hair, lethal dimple on her left cheek. That warm smile itself is enough for me to squirm in my blanket burrito with a big smile every time I see it.
The second one, BADDIE era Yujin. The sharp outfit. The charisma that made me start writing fics on Tumblr. The origin of how Henry roasted me for all that “Mommy Yujin” nonsense. The daring stare like she can see through all my filthy fantasies at night.
“I... I have this... PLEASE! I’m an actual fan.” I hold the two photo cards like some sort of passing badge, hoping to move the manager.
But he doesn’t say anything, and he doesn’t move at all. I start to get anxious as half of the group is already at the parking lot.
“잠깐만요, (Wait a second) Manager-nim~” Two girls at the back slow down, before stopping and looking at my direction. I can immediately tell the one who just spoke was Yujin. She approaches the manager and whispers in his ear. “Aigoo, he’s just a fan! Look at him, he’s literally shaking right now. How can he do any harm?” Yujin giggles while peeking at the photo cards.
Well, don’t ask me why she just spoke English to her manager. It was NOT! It was Korean for sure. But a huge thank you to Duolingo, I was able to understand the most important conversation I’ve ever overheard in my life! (Author’s note, this message is not approved or endorsed by Duolingo).
They then kept whispering something that’s beyond one year worth of Duolingo learning, while I was left there, teeth clenching nervously.
I try to distract my attention. Hmm... who is that girl next to Yujin? It’s either Liz or Rei based on the relative height with Yujin. I hope she’s Liz... but I’d be such a fake Liz fanboy because I can’t even tell if that’s her.
“Listen, do you want a signature?” The manager finally turns back at me, after sighing like “are we really doing this”?
I don’t care. My soul is almost escaping my body. “YESSSSS! Please! Please!”
He waves at me as a signal to keep walking, so I do. But he’s still serving like a shield, completely blocking me with the girls. “Look, you are alone. No cameras. It is good. But if we stay here? People see and they gather. We don’t want that.” I immediately understood. The group of the people I saw outside of the restaurants? There were no TikTok influencers. There were no Instagram model girls. They were all here, camping IVE…
He clears his throat while I nod obediently. “I know you’re going to tell you friends, and everyone is coming here in minutes. So, walk with us, get in the car, get your signature. We drop you off somewhere mid-way and we both are happy, understand?”
“Y.... yes sir! Thank you so much!” I bow immediately, just for him to nod and he knowingly falls behind. Allowing me to walk parallel to the two girls.
“Hi~” Yujin smiles politely, fan service mode activated.
“Hi~ how are you?” The girl next to her takes off her mask.
It is a miracle that I didn’t just faint right at the moment. It is Liz. Kim Jiwon. Elizabeth Helga Muller, her German name, as you wish.
“OH MY GODDDD! Liz!” I scream out loud, only for the manager to give me a deadly stare like “keep it low or get out of here.” I instantly cover my mouth and apologize. “Sorry, sorry. I got too excited... I’m really a Liz fan.”
“Oh, really? Thank you.” Liz smiles, a bit timid.
“Can I see them?” Yujin asks, pointing at my photo cards.
“Definitely!” I hand them to her, while trying not to have any physical contact with her - I don’t wanna mess up this once in a lifetime opportunity by getting falsely assumed as a creep!
“Me and Jiwon, hehe” Yujin giggles proudly. “You are lucky today, no?”
“More than lucky, Yujin-ssi.”
“Aw~ what a polite fan boy, you can call me Yujin. What’s your name?” She seems a bit amused, which is definitely a green light for me.
“Ah! You can call me dimp...I mean, Mercy. m-e-r-c-y.” I almost slipped something that’s supposed to be top secret. Fortunately, I reacted quickly.
My heart has no sign to slow down, so I start to take some deep breaths. They notice. “Are you nervous?” Liz asks. “You don’t have to be so tense, fanboy. We don’t bite!” Yujin adds on.
Well, but to be fair, how can I NOT feel nervous at this moment? Walking next to me are literally the two women in the world that bring me the most joy. One with her dimple and a voice that’s clearer than my future. The other one with her...... charisma and....... leader spirit. I’m nowhere close to being ready!
“I....I try.” I manage to squeeze out two broken words.
“Hey buddy.” The manager taps my shoulder from behind as we’re close to the only minivan that’s still parking in the lot - well it seems like the rest of the members are already gone.
“Yes sir, what shall I do?” I try to be as cooperative as possible.
“This is the plan, ok?” He stops at the trunk, finds a sharpie from one of the bags. “You seem like a good person.”
“Yes sir, I am a good person. What do I need to do?” Man! Just give me the rest of the script! At this point I’m willing to do anything for their signature.
“You see, THAT group of people with cameras,” he stops, “We don’t want them to know where we are. So here is what’s going to happen. You unlock your phone, give it to me, so you don’t take photos or record. Everything is private, I will check your photo booth whether you stalked or filmed us.”
“My... my phone? Absolutely sir, I’ll give you my phone.” Yes! He’s taking my phone! I’ve never felt so happy before when someone takes my phone. Now he has my personal items, he can’t kick me away!
He quickly peeks at my photo booth to make sure I’m indeed not a sasaeng. He starts talking again, “Good. You give your photo cards to Yujinnie and Jiwon, they sign. Get in the car, we will drop you off somewhere mid-way so you don’t spoil our location.”
“Wait, what??? I’m getting in the car?” My brain refuses to believe the offer I just received - car ride with IVE. “Me? Really?”
“Yeah, you~” Liz walks past me, before getting on the back row of the minivan.
“Or you can take your phone back and walk away.” The manager says.
“No sir, you keep my phone.” I hop on the passenger’s seat at the front, try to be very gentle and give Yujin and Liz their personal space. I’m carpooling with IVE! That alone is already a miracle.
The door slides shut. The cool air conditioning and the smell of the leather seats separate me from the heat outside.
-
For the first minute, I sit with a tense posture: back straight, hands on my laps, palm sweating. I try to peek in the rearview mirror; Liz is on her phone with her hat back on and Yujin sits at the very back row next to the manager and I have no idea what they are whispering.
“Are you holding your breath? You look like a statue there.” Liz giggles.
“If I were you, I’d cherish the time and say something. Like, how did you end up becoming a fan?” Yujin adds on. I turn my head to my eight o’clock, and try my hardest not to look like I’m about to have a heart attack when I see Liz’s gentle smile.
“Liz-ssi, you.... you’ve always been my number one, do you know that? Every time when I’m stressed over those abstract proofs in Real Analysis, I’d watch your fancams over and over... and I’ll feel motivated again. Don’t get me wrong, I admire your vocals so much. It is cleaner than a glass of water...”
“Aw~ thank you so much for your kind words! Real Analysis, it sounds difficult... is it like a lie detector? To see if something is real or fake? Hehe” Liz giggles timidly and gently, her gaze flickers with sincerity.
“Eh... kind of, we analyze real stuff. It is very abstract, but you inspired me a lot when I had hard times nonetheless! I... I don’t know what else to say, Liz-ssi, it is my biggest honor in my life to get to tell you how much I liked you!”
I did it. I did the unthinkable in many fanboys’ sweet little dreams! I got to tell my favorite idol how much I appreciate her without being filthy! I showed her how dedicated and respectful a DIVE I am. I certainly just won the world.
“Ahem, Jiwon-ah, looks like you got a big fan here. How about me?” Yujin suddenly asks from the back, tone with a hint of mischief.
“I...I really like you too! Yujin-ssi.” For some reasons only I should know, I was NOT ready to answer this question so I stuttered.
“Really? You hesitated! Are you a fake fan?” Yujin keeps pushing, sounds a tiny bit frustrated but still playful.
“Leave this poor little boy alone, unnie.” Liz’s smile widens instead, her facial expression screaming “Not again” like she had seen Yujin battle for a bias title thousands of times.
“Then tell me what parts of me you like, fanboy?” Yujin reaches to the middle row, putting her face right next to Liz’s, her puppy eyes open wide and wink with anticipation.
“I... Ah...I... like your... hmm... power! And... leader spirit! Also, your... your confidence!” I defend myself, trying to convince Yujin that I’m not a fake fan but maybe only they can see how red I got when Yujin stared at me innocently like that.
“Aw, how cute! Leader Spirit and confidence.” Yujin intentionally emphasizes the two nouns like it is the password to something secret.
My heart skips a bit... please don’t be.
-
After a few more rounds of polite exchange of words, the manager (now driver) pulls over somewhere on the street. It looks familiar despite the tinted window.
“Yujinnie, Jiwonnie, do you want to get some In-N-Out? It is very famous in America!” The manager unbuckles his seatbelt, turning back towards Liz and Yujin and doesn’t even bother to look at me. More than reasonable, I don’t blame him. To him, I was just a piece of luggage they hadn't unloaded yet.
“Really! Let’s go!” Liz’s eyes flicker with sparkles.
“Not for me~ I’ve tried it many times when we toured in America last year!” Yujin says.
“Ok, then I’ll go with Jiwon. Yujinnie, you wanna wait in the car? We’ll be back soon.” The manager opens the door before Liz joins after him.
My hand automatically reaches for the seatbelt. My heart leaped. This was it. A walk with Liz. Just us (and the manager) under the California sun. "I’ll help! I can carry the—"
"No." The manager and Yujin almost say it at the exact same moment, the one single word cuts through my excitement like a cold snap. "If you truly care about her, you don't want to see 'Liz accompanied by mystery young man in L.A.' on Dispatch tomorrow morning, right?"
I froze, my hand halfway to the door handle. The implication hit me like a physical weight. Me? A mystery man? With Liz? My face didn't just turn red; it felt like it was radiating heat. The thought of being linked to her—even in a scandal—sent a shiver through my chest.
"Stop," the Manager sighed, glancing at me in the rearview mirror with a look of pure pity. "I know exactly what you’re thinking. No. Don't even go there."
I slumped back into the passenger seat, my ears ringing. "Right. Sorry. Safety first." For a twisted moment, I felt like I was almost a protagonist. Almost a “scandal”. Almost become the main character of a fanfic. Almost someone important enough to be "accompanied by Liz. The heat in my cheeks wasn't just embarrassment—it was a soaring pride. I felt like I was floating two inches off the leather, drifting in a golden California daydream where I actually mattered to her.
But a dream is always just a dream. You’ll wake up nonetheless.
“Good Boy~.” Yujin casually slips, her tone full of teasing.
I felt like I was being handed a death sentence wrapped in a compliment.
Some scenes that are not supposed to show up here start to automatically play inside my head. Fuck. I fucking forgot… My phone. Please… Please don’t tell me she found them.
Yujin had my phone – it got handed to her naturally as the manager needs to drive. Maybe he told her to check my photo booth if I stalked them from the airport. But I have all of my Tumblr drafts as screenshots in my Pictures… All of those… stories.
Liz looked back at me, her expression softening into that sweet, concerned look. "Are you okay? You look like you're about to faint. Car sickness?”
"I’m 100% fine!" I squeaked, my pitch an octave too high. I gave her a thumbs-up that felt incredibly unconvincing. "Just... thirsty! Take your time!"
Beside me, I heard a muffled, frantic sound. I turned to see Yujin burying her face into a velvet travel cushion, her shoulders shaking with silent, hysterical laughter. She knew. She knew exactly how "screwed" I was, and she was enjoying every second of my internal collapse.
"Let’s go, Jiwon-ah," the Manager said, putting on his sunglasses.
"Bye-bye!” Liz waved, her silhouette flashing one last time before she stepped out into the bright Los Angeles afternoon with her mask back on.
The door hissed shut. THUD.
The lock clicked.
-
“So,” Yujin breaks the deadly silence. “Apparently, mister pure hearted fanboy… You write stories about me, very… analytically, hm?” It is over.
“I… I can explain it…” I want to turn around and defend myself, but I physically can’t.
“Can you?” I hear Yujin’s voice coming from the middle row, she had crawled from the back like a predator corning her prey. “You handed the unlocked phone to us yourself, and I was scrolling through those story drafts all the way.” Yujin’s words sound mysterious; danger is hiding beneath that seemingly emotionless tone.
“I… it… it was just fiction… I didn’t mean to… Sorry.” I give up, knowing I just dug my own grave. Maybe I get kicked out of the minivan after my confession, and Yujin’s gonna tell Liz all of those. I’m screwed… my character, everything… Liz is going to despise me and she’ll feel so disgusted!
“You told Jiwon she was your number one because she’s so pure… and so clear. You study mathematics and you love pure things, don’t you? You told her how a respectful and dedicated DIVE you are because of her, hm?” Yujin pads the seat where Liz was just sitting, “Come here, don’t make me say it twice.”
I hesitate for a fraction of a second, before squeezing my body through that tiny space. Maybe there is still hope, but I know for a fact that I am completely at Yujin’s mercy. The seat is still warm, Liz’s lingering vanilla-scented perfume is so healing – yet what’s next to me is like a blackhole, full of force and unknown.
I meet Yujin’s gaze. Her eyes are dark, unreadable, and terrifyingly vivid.
“It seems like you don’t write about her spirit, do you?” Yujin murmurs, finger hovering on her bottom lip. “Tell me, if Liz is your angel… Am I your… downfall?” she licks her lip now, her alluring eyes never leaving mine. “Or are you finally gonna admit that I AM the truth that you’ve been secretly hiding from her?”
My heart is not slowing down. I come to the realization that maybe I am still screwed, but it’d be the best bad news I can hear. “You’re not answering my question. And I’m getting impatient. If I am impatient, I do really messy stuff. You don’t want to get on the blacklist of Starship Entertainment, do you?” Yujin has no sign of stopping her fire, knowing she has the upper hand from the start.
“I… I’m sorry Yujin… Please don’t! I swear it is just some nonsense, I… I can delete them if you want. Just please don’t say it out loud! I’d do anything.” My cheeks must be radiating heat at this moment and I’m also already used to the frantic pounding of my chest.
Maybe it was my sincerity, it must be. My response is like it just triggered some keywords.
“You said, anything?” Yujin smirks with mischief.
“As long as I don’t get blacklisted…” I stutter.
“Get to the back row, now.”
“If… if you say so.” My nostril already misses Liz’s pure scent at the moment I lose contact with her seat. I carefully take a step over their designer purses on the pass-through before placing my tense body onto the back row as Yujin instructed.
Yujin follows, taking the right side of the three connected seats. She sits on her knees, looking way comfortable despite being in such a packed space. “So... I’m going to give you some chances to prove to me that you’re not a filthy, degenerate fan.” Yujin says.
“I’m definitely not! Do you want me to show you my Spotify Top 0.1% Fan Badge?” I reach out for my phone that’s still on her lap.
“Aw, cute little attempt. But I'll keep it for now.” She holds my phone hostage, slipping it under her weight.
“T... Then how do you want me to prove it? I can recite the lyrics for all of IVE’s title tracks?” I stutter.
“Come on, you write those little stories about me, but still pretending to be innocent. Huh?” Yujin’s playful grin suddenly disappears, what comes after is something rawer that I was never ready for.
She slips her finger into my shirt from the bottom, scratching my chest in the most agonizing way possible. As much as I don’t want to admit it, the bulge down below starts to get visibly larger.
“See? You’re being very honest with your body.” She’s barely audible, basically just blowing air into my already itching ears.
“Yujin-ssi, please don’t! We... we will be in trouble! And I’ll become filthy and degenerate if you keep doing this to me!” I accidentally confess in desperation.
“Hmm... it’s better if we have an open conversation instead, maybe?”
“Y...yes! Conversation! We’re not supposed to be doing this at all!”
“Ok.” Yujin says, but her hands say otherwise. She quickly yanks my shirt off in one go, my chest suddenly exposes to the air. Next, she takes off her black jacket and her white T-shirt as well, leaving only a plain, white bra.
“What... what the fuck?!” I shout in awe while trying to cover my eyes with my palms. I can’t look at that... I'm not supposed to!”
“That’s why I call it an open conversation. If you don’t like it, I can also take it off. Hm?” Yujin hovers her finger onto the strap of her bra, teeth biting down her lips. God. Pure seduction. Why is she doing this?
“Why are you doing this?” So I ask.
“Aw, I want to test you. Let’s play a game.” Yujin smiles while putting her palms on each of my shoulders.
She then pulls me dangerously close, forcing me to look directly into her predatory gaze.
“Since you do analysis all the time, tell me, who is your favorite member in IVE?” Yujin asks, hands cupping my face. My breath immediately hitches.
“I... it’s Liz, you already knew that.”
“Nope baby... wrong name.” She crashes her red lips against mine. My whole world collapses. Yujin captures my hesitation, kissing me even more aggressively. Her tongue invades through my trembling lips, forcing mine to swirl with hers. I take it all, secretly enjoying this gut-wrenching guilty pleasure. I just got a kiss from the character in my wildest fantasies - but it feels like a huge betrayal to Liz at the same time.
“First chance is wasted. You didn’t give me the answer I wanted to hear. We can keep playing this game until your pure little angel is back. Guess what she’ll have to say when she sees us like this? Sweaty and half naked in the back seat?” Yujin is seemingly enjoying everything, her tone bright and joyful.
“Now tell me again, if your favorite is Liz… then why are you this hard, hm?” Yujin grins, fingers brushing my itching length through the fabric of my pants.
“Be…because I am a straight man!” I give out my final attempt to brush it off, but seeing Yujin’s facial expression remains unchanged, I know I’ll just let her do her thing. “Plus… you’re very hot.” I add on.
“It is hot here indeed, fuck, I’m sweating.” Yujin hums, realizing the AC is little use under the SoCal sun in the afternoon. “We gotta do this quick, before both of us pass out from the heat.” I take a quick glance at her half naked body, sweats already dripping down her chin – her scent mixes with the faint perfume, more arousing than ever.
“We are gonna do what?” My logic fails; it can’t be? I am never properly prepared for a scene like this.
“Take off your pants, right now…You’re lucky today. I’m going to show you why I AM the leader of IVE, and you’d start regretting why you didn’t choose me as your bias from day one.” Yujin mumbles, while unzipping her short culottes. I take a big gulp uncontrollably when she reveals her full curve, a few drops of sweats clinging onto her frame and her plain cotton pantie is already damped. Maybe from the heat, maybe from the arousal… or probably both.
My hands freeze on my belt, not knowing what to do after witnessing Yujin just stripped before me despite my throbbing length already screaming for release. “Fuck, stop pretending for be so innocent.” Yujin gets a bit impatient; her hands automatically locate my belt. And click, she unbuckles it before yanking both of my jeans and boxers all the way down to my ankle.
My itching length springs free, a wet sound covers the quiet humming of the AC. A pathetic moan escapes from my throat as Yujin wraps her hand around my base. “Look at this, already so hard for me~.” She gives it a long, slow stroke before climbing up onto my lap. Her hard is warm, contrasting with the cool leather of her boots squeezing my leg.
“Fuck… Yujin, are you sure we’re doing this? I.... My favorite member in IVE is An Yujin! Are you happy now?” The final bit of sanity left in my brain knows it is wrong, we’re both fucked if Liz and the manager are back from In-N-Out and see their respected leader of group is stroking a filthy fanboy in the back of their car. Is this even real? Is this even possible? I am just a helpless fanboy that fell into Yujin’s charm and couldn’t escape. But why? Why would she even talk to me, let aside… having sex with me? It must be a dream, but her deadly scent is so real.
“Too fake.” She clicked her tongue. One smooth motion and her fingers were at my belt. “You still call me by my stage name like a polite little fanboy. I want the real one. The one you type at 3 a.m. when you think no one’s watching.”
Yujin stares directly into the deepest of my soul, she unhooks her bra with her free hand. The strap slides down her shoulders and the fabric slowly falls off her gorgeous body. Her full breasts bounces up and down right inches away from eyes, she turns to throw the bra away.
“Now your Mommy Yujin is right here, do what you need, helpless little fanboy.” She quotes directly from the deepest secrets that I’ve been hiding, and that’s exactly enough to destroy any defense I have left. My hips jerked involuntarily and I groaned, the sound way too loud for a tinted minivan in broad daylight.
“Fuck…” The thrill of getting caught at any time mixes with her sweated scent are like a drug that just gets me addicted. I follow my instinct, carefully take in one of her juicy tits in between my lips and suck lightly. She tastes alluring. Her perfume alone is enough to drive me crazy, not to mention the faint salty, sweaty taste just mercilessly assaults my nostril.
“Mmph….” I try to say something, but my mouth is too busy savoring Yujin’s perfect tit. I never in my life had thought this would happen, yet the sensory had defeated the sanity. I manage to not faint from the overwhelming lust despite Yujin hasn’t started anything. I take a look at her soft hand grabbing my length, then keep my eyes shut again. Well, if I mute one of my senses, the rest becomes more sensitive, no?
“Look at me.” Yujin commands, she reaches close, hair brushing my cheeks. I oblige; she then opens her mouth and lets a string of her saliva fall onto the tip of my shaft. My body bucks as the slick, cool liquid meets with my overheated skin. Her eyes never leave mine. Deadly. Alluring. I can’t contain my desire anymore.
I reach out for her face, pulling Yujin close before kissing her juicy lips. This time it is much more intense compared to the first. My movements are desperate and hungry, and I can tell she likes it. She responds with equally thirsty kisses, the wet, obscene sound echoing in the warm minivan.
“Good… You finally stopped your little lie. I almost believed you’re such a dedicated and pure DIVE until I saw those filthy stories.” Yujin lets go of my lips, “It’d be your loss if you never tried me…bet you’ll feel different after this. Liz can still be your sweet angel with a crystal-clear voice, but you won’t ever forget who makes you this desperate.”
“Fuck…please, Yujin… Please don’t bring Liz into this.” Yujin’s words bring back that gut-wrenching guilt. For a second, I just hate myself so much for not having the self-discipline to resist Yujin’s force and it’s a pure betrayal to Liz.
“Uh-oh, look at who is triggered. But weren’t YOU the one who wrote ‘I am mommy An Yujin’s Puppy, please use me as you like’? Bet you got hard just by thinking about it when you hid under your blanket writing it, huh?” She amplifies the filth, quoting directly from one of my drafts. My head is a mess made of embarrassment and the painful pleasure from Yujin’s hand that never stopped stroking me.
“Am I meeting your expectations, or do you want more of me? The energy? How about the leader's spirit? Hmm?”
“What even is the point of all this?”
“To prove you wrong, fanboy. It makes me sick listening to all those beautiful lies but I know for a fact your body thinks otherwise. Just admit it, or we can stop here and wait ‘til your Jiwonnie comes back and sees it herself. Hmm? Last chance~”
“You really care about it that badly?” I hover my hands onto Yujin’s sweat-covered waist in awe. “Fine, if you really want to see me being filthy… I’d let you.” I know it is time to let go of my rational thoughts and just follow my instinct. And my instinct tells me to grab her bouncy ass and feel it with my palms. “I’ll make sure this pair of sexy legs keep shaking for hours.” The final doubt inside of my head is gone as I feel the smooth texture of her body on my hands. I’ve never felt anything like this before. The velvety smooth skin, the warmth, the sweat. They just feel so vivid… and so Yujin.
“Exactly the energy I want... Now touch me… show me how much you’ve been starving for this body.” Yujin’s tone is still commanding, but with a hint of arousal.
“Fuck… do you know how crazy you drove me with this body, Yujin?” I confess, mumbling because I am busy eating her tit at the same time. I draw little circles around her nipple, just to feel how heavenly she tastes with that faint scent of her body wash and the lingering sweat. Meanwhile, I don’t forget the work down below her butt. My hands start roaming free, staring from her waist, lingering on her cheeks before groping her insanely sexy thighs.
Yujin lets out several hums each time the tip of my tongue meets her nipple, her face is blushed from the increasing temperature and her own arousal. I lick and suck her other tit with equal desire – the desire that I’ve been hiding from everyone, that had made my head spin in countless midnight hours.
She doesn’t respond to my question. The minivan’s tinted windows trapped the heat like a greenhouse. Sweat beaded along Yujin’s collarbones, catching the faint dashboard glow and sliding down the valley between her breasts in slow, glistening trails.
Suddenly, a loud, door slamming sound from a nearby car drags me out of this dreamy picture. My heart sinks. We’re in the public; Liz and the managers are still coming back at any time. Yujin catches the sudden halt of my motion and I am certain that she can see through what I’m thinking. She dismounts from me, crawling to the driver’s seat only in her damped pantie.
Beep.
She locks the door from inside before turning off the engine. The AC is still on but it feels like nothing under the California sun. Yujin crawls towards me sitting there in the back row, slowly, like she is catwalking on a run way. Her hips roll and sways, each step makes her seducing frame even more alluring.
After like a year has passed, she finally gets back on my lap. Yujin grabs my leaking length once again and gives it a lazy stroke. Her fingers drawing lazy, tormenting circles on my sensitive head. “Mmph… fuck…” I groan, taking a deep breath so I don’t just come before even getting a chance to feel her. To really feel her.
She hooks her thumbs into the waistband of her pantie and peels it down her thighs in one fluid motion, kicking it aside. The scent of her—sweet, musky, unmistakably aroused—hits me like a drug. Her pussy was glistening, puffy and pink, lips already parted and shiny. She wrapped her hand around my cock again, guiding the head right against her entrance.
“W… wait!” I stutter.
“Aw… Don’t tell me you’re gonna chicken out at the last second.” Yujin purrs, her gaze is now nothing but pure desire. I don’t dare to keep staring at her anymore before I completely lose it and start screaming “Mommy Yujin”.
“We… we don’t have a condom!” I almost yell. Being caught walking with Liz? It is nothing compared to making Yujin a mother. There is zero probability that I can survive the fans if it ever happens, so, safety first.
“Screw it, we’re constantly on the pill anyways. Is that it? Can I properly fuck you now?”
“Y…”
I don’t get to finish. Yujin doesn’t wait for the rest. She drops the rest of the way in one smooth, greedy motion, taking every inch until her ass flushes against my thighs. A broken moan escapes her throat, and the sound goes straight into the deepest of my soul.
“Fuck, you’re bigger than I thought,” she breathes, already rolling her hips in tiny circles, grinding her clit against my pelvis. “Feels good, doesn’t it? Better than jerking off to my fancams in your dorm room?”
I cannot answer. My hands autopilots to her waist, gripping hard enough to leave marks. She starts riding me relentlessly then—slow at first, savoring it, then faster, the wet slap of skin on skin filling the van. The leather seat creaks under us. The AC still humming uselessly against the heat we were generating. Yujin bounces on my laps in near frantic motion. Each time she releases me from her slickness, the next second I’m being greeted by her warmth. Yujin is incredibly tight, and it makes me speechless. I’m nowhere close to being in charge as I helplessly watch how much Yujin owns the moment. Her bangs are damp from the sweat; her elegant fingers push the wet strand of hair behind her ears.
I dive back into her flawless body and continue to worship her tits before I lose myself in her alluring gaze. Her nipples are swollen, I plant careful kisses here and there, leaving wet marks on her frame. Her frame that owned my wildest dreams at those lonely nights.
“Mmph...” Yujin moans softly, “You’re doing good, maybe your mouth can do more than just lying.”
“Fuck… I never lied!” I thrust up into her in embarrassment, our sweat damps the leather seat – the squeaking sound echoes obscenely in the car. “Then show me, show me you are capable of making me come… like how it is in those dirty little stories you wrote about me.”
Her encouraging tone is exactly what I need to turn me on even more. I grab her waist with both of my hands, pushing her away from my laps onto the seat before I reposition myself before her. Yujin’s long legs immediately wrap around my chest; her leather boots are still on. The stiff texture contrasts with her smooth skin, and they just add an extra layer of stimulation on my sweating body.
I start pounding into Yujin in a relentless fashion as the desire I’ve been trying to hide is inevitably flooding through my body. I grab her thighs, lifting her legs and rest them onto my shoulder. Yujin rubs her clit with one hand, letting out several cracked moans, while the other hand grabs her own tits. Her eyes are half closed, getting lost in the sensation.
The minivan shakes, matching our fanatic rhythm. The tinted windows already fogged up from the heating atmosphere, I never stop my thrusting. My nails dig deep into her skin like I’m trying to hang onto something before my downfall. “Hmm? Yujin-ssi? Is this what you want? Getting wet because a fanboy is filling you up?” I tease.
“Mmph, just like that… harder… When are you gonna admit that I am better than Liz? Only this is not enough…” She mutters.
I thrust once more, to the absolute deepest I can and I just hold it still. “Don’t say her name!” I squeeze out a cracked groan.
“Liz this… Liz that, but look at who is so hard inside me right now… Hmm?” Yujin keeps taunting me like she is daring me to go harder. Yet, she pushes me away, I whine from the loss of the friction.
Yujin stands up and paces slowly to the middle row, where Liz was sitting. She gets her hands onto the seat, while arching her body and stretches her perfect ass out. I immediately follow her, hands located onto her soft waist try to enter her again. But instead, Yujin grabs my shaft, heads turn back toward me, eyes full of nothing but seduction.
“Bet your mouth is already watering just by thinking how tight this ass would be, huh?” Yujin teases, rubbing my fully hard length up and down along the entrance of her but never letting me in.
“Fuck… please let me in already.” I don’t stand a chance when there is a perfect body like Yujin’s in front of me.
“Does your precious little angel ever make you beg like this? I guess not, huh?”
“N…No”, I take a big sniff, but unfortunately, Liz’s pure, vanilla-flavored scent gets replaced gradually by Yujin’s addicting mixture of her sweat and her floral perfume. I whine again, but this time from pure hunger. “Please… I want you so bad…” My voice muffles.
“Good Boy, I love it when you are honest.” She finally puts me back into that warm and wet pussy that I’ve been craving for. I continue to fuck her from behind; my hand just can’t stop itself from slapping Yujin’s bouncy butt.
“Mmph~~~” She moans exaggeratedly, like an acknowledgment of how her body makes me lose control. “How does it feel? Becoming the protagonist of those stories you wrote?”
“Fuck… It feels amazing, you’re so fucking tight.” I admit in both guilt and shame.
“Good. Then give me all of it, do better than that nerd you built.”
“I…I’ll try, I am not sure if I can last long… mmph.” I slow down my pounding by a notch, otherwise I’d soon give in and unload myself into Yujin.
“You better do, you know the consequence of disappointing me, right~” I can’t see her face, but her words are enough to let me pick up my pace again. I bite my bottom lip as hard as possible to endure the building pleasure, but surprisingly I don’t feel any pain. It must be the dopamine flooding rent-free in my system, that my sense of pain is already overwhelmed.
I try to alternate my rhythm between slower, deeper strokes and shallower, quicker thrusts. Yujin is clearly also enjoying herself as I feel her walls clenching against me each time I enter, trying to drain me in a timely manner.
“Fuck… just like that, you are gonna make me come!” I can feel Yujin’s pussy clenching tighter and tigher on me; I keep slamming into her as she gradually gives in to the pleasure. It only takes one extra deep thrust before she hits her climax. Yujin’s body locks up, fingers digging into the seat while her walls flutter and spasm, almost making me come on the spot. I slow down, and keep thrusting through her orgasm.
Yujin takes a few deep breaths until she releases my throbbing shaft from her pussy. Her juice immediately drips out from the point of contact, my itching dick is swollen, coated by her essence entirely. She turns around, quickly pushes me down onto the seat before guiding me back into her again. I bury my face into her chest, greedily sniff her aroused scent.
“You made me come… not bad. So, you get what you deserve, fanboy.” She smirks.
And we both know it won’t take long for me to release into her. She keeps riding me – each time she rolls her hips so my shaft is getting sealed by her wetness from all angles. Sweat pours off both of us, mixing between our bodies, the air thick and heavy with the scent of sex and her perfume and pure desperation.
“Now… come for me~” Yujin orders, and that’s all I need.
After she slams back down on me one last time, I grab her waist firmly as I cross the line of no return. I come. Hard. Ropes of thick juices of mine flooding her walls while I keep kissing her tits messily. Yujin moans loud enough like she’s screaming. She keeps grinding down through my orgasm like she is chasing a second of her own, her walls fluttering and squeezing every last drop out of me.
But she doesn’t just stop there. Even as I am still pulsing inside her, she keeps riding. The overstimulation hits like lightning—pleasure so sharp that I can’t distinguish if it is pain. My thighs tremble violently, every nerve in my body is screaming.
I am gasping, chest heaving, sweat pouring into my eyes. My shaft keeps throbbing, raw and oversensitive. The minivan felt like a sauna now, windows completely fogged, the leather beneath us soaked with sweat and cum and her arousal. My balls ached, my thighs burned, but the pleasure kept building again, impossibly, another orgasm already coiling tight in my gut.
“Again,” she demands, wrecked but still commanding. She leans down, biting my lower lip hard enough to sting. “Fill me until it’s dripping out of me when Liz gets back.”
The mention of Liz—sweet, pure Liz—should have killed the mood. Instead, it twists something dark and guilty and unbearably hot in my chest. I buck up into Yujin with a broken sob, chasing that second release like I’m wicked. She meets every thrust, riding me harder, faster, her tits bouncing, hair wild, eyes locking on mine like how she shows up in every filthy thought I’d ever had. Within another minute, I come again. This time it doesn’t last as long, but the pleasure is equally high.
Yujin lifts herself up from my wrecked length, the obscene picture of my own essence mixed with her juice dripping out of her pussy almost makes me faint on the spot. She sits down next to me; fingers spooning a scoop of the cream and puts right into her mouth.
“Hmm… tastes good…” Yujin grins.
“Yujin… fuck… You’re unreal.” My breath has yet to recover from the overwhelming two orgasms in a row. I lie down on her lap while she caresses my hair in soft strokes. “I…I’m so drained, just give me like one minute. I need to catch my breath before we clean this mess.”
“Aw~ don’t worry, take as long as you need.” Yujin’s voice is like honey.
I feel the danger of getting caught by the manager and Liz approaching. But hey, how am I supposed to clean up when my balls just got drained by Yujin? As much as I want to get back on my feet and start wiping down the mess everywhere, my eyes are getting really heavy.
“My cute little fan boy~ have you changed your mind yet? Who is your favorite IVE member now?” Yujin teases me, fingers scratching my neck gently.
The dial turns. It wasn't a question, but rather a demand for total submission.
I gaze up at Yujin’s gorgeous face. It took me years to realize what I really wanted. I had committed a thoughtcrime for years, pretending to be pure-hearted and innocent. But I inevitably succumbed to my lust.
All those pitiful little lies I told myself! All those stubborn denials of my true desire! Two salt-scented tears trickle down the sides of my nose.
But it is alright. Everything is alright. The struggle is finished. I had won the victory over myself.
“I love An Yujin.”
My eyes give up resisting the weight anymore.
“Hey… hey!” Yujin pushes my shoulders, “At least put your pants back on!”
I don’t care anymore. The oxytocin is real. Unconsciousness soon claims me.
The world doesn’t go out with a bang; it ends with the scent of Yujin and the crushing weight of a memory too heavy for my waking self to hold. My vision blurs, the tint of the van’s windows stretching into an infinite, velvety black—and then, the hum of the AC is replaced by the dry rustle of wind.
-
I open my eyes again, and I find myself sitting on the bench in the park where I spotted IVE an hour or two ago. The sun had drifted to the west, dimmer orange light hover above the park.
“Where I spotted IVE…”
I panic, my lips are dry and my eyes heavy. I quickly stand up and sprint to the parking lot, no minivans are there. NO! It must be that the manager dropped me off where he picked me up, and I fell asleep again on the bench because I was so exhausted from the sex! It makes sense that I don’t remember WHEN I got dropped off and HOW I said goodbye to Liz and Yujin.
I… I need proof of this. So, I reach out to my pocket.
My phone is there; it must get handed back to me when they dropped me off! I know it!
I need to see the signature…. I need to see that sharpie ink.
I impatiently rip off the phone case and let it drop to the grass, where two sleeved photo cards of Yujin and Liz are still quietly sitting there. Back facing me.
I close my eyes and pray… Please don’t let it be a dream. But when I open them again, the photocards are gone as a breeze blows through me. The grass flutters, the geese idling in the lake fly up and I am left shaking in the wind. The two cards swirl in the wind, entering an entangled state like my memory.
The faces of my purest angel and my desired downfall start to blend, the colors of their hair and the light in their eyes mixing together into a frantic, spinning blur. Akin to the mess in my brain: there is one line of pure admiration, for the boy who smiles stupidly hearing Liz’s vocal; and the other line of unsatisfiable desires, for the boy who simps Yujin under the blanket in those lonely midnights.
They ran perfectly parallel in my head, one line never touching the other. Until today, when the boundary is starting to become a twisting manifold in front of my own eyes.
The photocards finally cease their frantic spinning in the spring SoCal air, drifting down like misplaced autumn leaves. They settle quietly upon the grass, just two feet away—a distance that felt like a light-year. I laugh; not a sound of triumph, but a soft, hollow exhale of relief.
Maybe. Just maybe.
I realize in this heartbeat that I don’t have to know.
The wave function doesn’t need to collapse.
I don’t have to see if the ink was still there.
If I look and see the bold strokes of her pen, I’d spend the rest of my life doubting my own sanity, haunting by a miracle I could never explain.
If I look and see only a blank, pristine surface, I’d be forced to mourn a ghost until the day I’m gone.
They are the definition and the projection of perfection and beauty onto my lonely little world. But for forty minutes, they were vivid. Liz’s dimple was a hymn I could finally hear, and Yujin’s touch was a fire I could finally feel—within my reach, yet forever beyond my grasp.
They’re like smoke in a mirror: always visible, but always far away.
Maybe it is destined? But we’ll never meet under the daylight.
I look up into the sky, squinting against the relentless gold of the California dusk, and one thing remains certain.
We shared the same horizon.
We breathed the same heavy, salt-tinged air of Los Angeles.
We are both on the way for what we love.
We both exist, beating hearts on this same spinning planet.
Doesn’t THAT make us real?
Perhaps.
Asymmetrical lines can be beautiful, but parallel lines will never intersect….
The elevator hums on its way up. Yujin fixes her blazer for the fourth time in thirty seconds. She glances over at Rei, who’s clutching two leather briefcases like a rookie paralegal at a firm that definitely launders money.
"Okay. One more time," Yujin says, cracking her neck. "We arrive, we explain the situation, we get him to sign the contract, and then we do what we came here to do. Simple. Clean. Professional."
Rei nods emphatically, though her grip on the briefcase handles tightens. "I still can't believe we're actually doing this..."
“This is everyday business for powerful people. Breakups, mergers, emotional takeovers. It’s just corporate restructuring with feelings thrown in. You'll get used to it, little bird." Yujin adjusts Rei's collar with two fingers, smoothing a crease that wasn't really there. "Wonyoung demands results. And you are going to deliver. Give it your best, yeah?"
Rei straightens slightly, a spark lighting up her eyes. "Wonyoung’s going to be proud of me!”
"That’s the attitude!" Yujin pats her on the shoulder.
The elevator dings.
The doors glide open straight into your suite - no hallway, no buffer. That’s the kind of place this is. Forty-two floors up, with a private elevator that answers only to you, and floor-to-ceiling windows framing a city that feels curated for your view. You’re standing in the bedroom doorway, halfway through buttoning your shirt, fingers lingering on the third button, when you hear footsteps on marble in a place where you’re supposed to be alone.
Two girls stride out of your elevator like they own the entire building.
You lift an eyebrow. “…How exactly did you two get in here?”
The taller girl moves in first, posture unshaken, like self-doubt has never been part of her vocabulary. Her shoulders are squared, chin angled with precise control - refined, yet quietly intimidating. “I’m An Yujin,” she says, holding out her hand.
You shake it. Her grip is firm, unwavering
The other one, a few centimeters shorter, shifts the briefcases to one hand and gives a small bow that's almost endearing in how formal it is. "Naoi Rei. Pleasure to meet you."
"It was easy to get in here," Yujin continues, already scanning your suite with the casual appraisal of someone who's been inside a lot of expensive rooms. "We can get into anywhere. Think of us like the Men in Black, but without being men."
"And without wearing black," Rei adds, glancing down at her navy blazer.
"Right. We also don't handle UFO events. Or alien immigration. Or memory wiping. Although," Yujin taps her chin, "that last one could be useful sometimes."
You finish buttoning your shirt and fold your arms. "So you have literally nothing in common with the Men in Black."
Yujin pauses. Thinks. "Yeah. That sounded better in my head.”
"My underwear is black, Yujin. That's already a start."
Yujin points at Rei without looking at her. "See? She's committed to the bit. I respect that."
You pinch the bridge of your nose. There are two strangers in your penthouse, one of whom just volunteered information about her underwear, and it's not even noon yet. "Look. As much as I love pretty girls trespassing on my private property, and I want to stress that this is extremely private property, what the hell are you doing here?"
"We're here on behalf of Jang Wonyoung," Yujin says, your eyebrow rises slightly. Now that she's said it, you actually do recognize Yujin. You've seen her at a few events, always orbiting Wonyoung, always laughing too loud at things that probably weren't that funny. Part of the entourage.
"What's this about, exactly?"
Yujin doesn't answer right away. She walks over to your sofa, a twelve-thousand-dollar Italian leather piece you've sat on maybe three times, and drops herself onto it without a shred of hesitation. She crosses her legs and leans back like she's been living here for months. Rei bows slightly, murmurs a quiet "excuse me," and sits down next to her with considerably more grace, placing both briefcases on the coffee table with the care of someone handling evidence.
"So here's the thing," Yujin begins, folding her hands in her lap. "Your relationship with Wonyoung is coming to an end. I'm sorry to be the one to tell you this. Well, actually, I'm not that sorry, because I barely know you. But professionally speaking, I'm sorry."
You stare at her.
"It didn't perform as well as she hoped. There were metrics, projections, social media engagement targets, public perception polling, a whole spreadsheet situation. And the numbers just didn't hit. The relationship underperformed across every key indicator." She shrugs. "In other words, you're a flop, darling."
"Thank you for your kind assessment," you say, the sarcasm obvious in every word. "I bet you love what you do, don’t you?”
"Hey, chill, I'm just the messenger. Think of me as the Hermes of the situation." She wiggles her feet. "My winged sandals are by Prada, though…"
You lean against the wall and try to process this. You knew. Somewhere in the back of your mind, past the optimism and the carefully curated date-night photos and the way she sometimes smiled at you when cameras were around, you knew. The relationship was a strategy from the start, something cooked up between Wonyoung's management team and the political arm of your family. Good optics on both sides. You were useful, and she was beautiful, and for a while that felt like enough.
But you'd been hoping, stupidly maybe, that she'd eventually come around. That the dinners would start feeling real. That the hand-holding would stop being choreographed...
Wonyoung is so goddamn gorgeous she fried your brain.
"She could've at least come and told me herself," you say. "Or called. A text, even. Carrier pigeon. Smoke signal. Anything."
"Wonyoung doesn't have time for that," Yujin says, completely matter-of-fact. "She's a global star. Schedule's packed. And to be blunt with you, she doesn't care enough about the relationship to handle this personally. That's what we're for."
That one stings, but it's not a surprise. You exhale through your teeth. "Fine. I get it. But why both of you? With all due respect, it feels like you’re more here to mess with me than actually handle any legal issue.”
Yujin reaches over and pops open one of the briefcases. Inside, a thick contract sits nestled in foam like it's a piece of jewelry. She slides it toward you across the coffee table. "Part of the original relationship contract included a breakup-sex clause. Section fourteen, subsection C. If one of the involved parties declines to personally fulfill the obligation, a consenting third party may represent them."
You blink. "I do not remember that clause."
"It was in the fine print," Rei says, speaking up with the tone of someone who genuinely finds contract law interesting. "It's always important to read and review every document with a qualified attorney before signing. These things have layers. The legal world is full of traps."
"The little bird is right," Yujin nods sagely. "You really should have had better representation."
You run a hand through your hair and try to assemble the sentence correctly in your head before you say it. "So if I'm understanding this correctly, you two came here to have sex with me. In the name of Wonyoung."
Rei nods. "Yeah, that’s pretty much the idea."
"Sorry, I can't do that. That's unethical. That's professional abuse. You're being exploited. Wonyoung is sending you here to sleep with a stranger because she can't be bothered to handle her own breakup. Do you not see how messed up that is?"
Yujin holds up a finger. "First of all, darling, we read our employment contracts. Every word. Every footnote. Unlike some people in this room." She glances at the breakup contract on the table and back at you. "Second, we're both here willingly. One hundred percent. Nobody's being exploited. This is a task we accepted with full knowledge and enthusiastic consent."
"Then it's fine. You can go home. I'm not going to hold a grudge. I'll survive."
"It's not quite that simple." Yujin uncrosses her legs and leans forward, elbows on her knees. "Our job is to make sure you leave this relationship completely satisfied and without resentment. The goal is to prevent any future public bitterness, accusations, tell-all interviews, leaked texts, the works. Wonyoung's PR team was very specific."
"I promise I won't say a single bad thing about Wonyoung. I never have. I wouldn't."
Rei shakes her head gently. "Unfortunately, a verbal promise doesn't constitute a legal guarantee. You need to fulfill the terms of the contract, or there could be litigation."
"Litigation," you repeat.
"Litigation," she confirms, not blinking.
You take a breath. "Wouldn't it have made way more sense to just put a mutual non-disparagement clause in the contract? No public criticism from either side after the breakup. Done. Simple."
Yujin and Rei look at each other. A beat passes.
"That… would have been better," Yujin admits.
"That would have been much simpler," Rei agrees.
"Honestly, that feels like a plot hole." Yujin scratches behind her ear. "But it is what it is. The contract says what it says. We need to make you cum, man. That's the rule of the game. Them's the terms. You’ll be king for a day, so live it up." She slaps both her thighs and stands up. "Besides, Rei already shaved everything for this occasion. Don't let that effort go to waste."
Rei's cheeks flush a shade of pink that's almost impressive in how fast it appears. "I shaved because I wanted to. It had nothing to do with this!"
"Sure it didn't."
"It didn't…”
You look at the two of them. You're tired. It's not even lunchtime and you've been dumped by proxy, threatened with a lawsuit, and propositioned by two women you met four minutes ago. This is, without question, the last thing you needed today.
But you'd be lying if you said they weren't both stunning. Yujin is tall, almost catching up to your height, with long legs that her tailored slacks do absolutely nothing to hide. Dark hair falls past her shoulders, thick and straight, framing features that seem built for trouble.
Rei is different. Softer. Her face is rounder, her features more delicate, with wide dark eyes that make her look endlessly curious. She's shorter than Yujin by a handful of centimeters, and her frame is slimmer, more compact. Her hair is long and dark, parted neatly, falling past her chest. Something in her reads as gentle and careful, as though she’s constantly anticipating what comes next but keeping that knowledge to herself. The blush is still sitting on her cheeks, making her look even more endearing.
Together, standing in your living room in their formal wear, they look like a legal team that accidentally wandered into a very inappropriate comedy movie.
You sigh. A long, defeated, resigned sigh. "Fine. Let's just get this over with."
Yujin grins and claps her hands together once, all business. "Rei. Open the black briefcase again. Get the contract."
Rei nods, turns to the coffee table, and pops open the latch on the nearest briefcase. The lid flips up, and you all three stare at its contents in a brief moment of shared silence. Inside, nestled in neat little compartments, is a full spread of lace lingerie in various colors, two bottles of lubricant, a silk blindfold, a set of what appear to be very expensive restraints, and a few other items you don't even want to identify right now.
"That's the other briefcase, idiot."
"Both briefcases are black, Yujin!”
"One has a silver clasp and one has a gold clasp. I told you this in the car."
"You told me a lot of things in the car. You talked for forty-five minutes straight about how a hotdog is technically a sandwich."
"Because it is. Open the other one."
Rei closes the sex briefcase with a firm snap and reaches for the second briefcase. This one, mercifully, contains a thick stack of legal documents and a matte black pen. She pulls them out and hands them to Yujin, who fans through the pages with ease before turning the whole thing over to you.
"Sign here." She points. "Here." She flips a page. "And here. This document certifies that we have completed our objective and that you agree to all terms and conditions outlined in the original relationship contract between yourself and Jang Wonyoung." She flips to the last page and taps a highlighted section. "And in case of non-compliance, you will be sued for millions."
"How many millions?"
"Many millions. You’d probably have to sell this place to help cover the costs."
Whatever. You read approximately none of the fine print, which is ironic given the conversation you just had about reading fine print. You scrawl your signature across all three lines, grumbling the entire time about how this is the most absurd Tuesday of your life. You hand the contract back. Yujin slots it into the briefcase with the reverence of someone archiving a sacred text.
"Beautiful. Now." She turns to face you fully, hands on her hips. "Do you have any preferences? Sexually, I mean. We'll do basically anything. I personally won't do anal." She jerks her thumb at Rei. "But maybe this one will. She looks like she'd be quite the little slut given the chance."
Rei's back straightens. "Hey, I am not doing anal. That's too kinky. And filthy..."
"Nobody needs to do anal," you say, rubbing your temples. "I don't need to fuck anyone's ass. Can we just… not talk about asses for a second?"
A silence settles over the three of you. It is, without exaggeration, one of the most awkward silences you have ever experienced. You're standing in your own living room with two women you met less than ten minutes ago, a signed sex contract on the table between you, and absolutely no idea what the appropriate next move is. Do you offer appetizers? Put on music? Is there a Spotify playlist for "breakup sex mandated by your ex-girlfriend's legal team"?
"Do you guys want something to drink?"
Rei perks up instantly. "I want a Coke."
"We're not drinking anything," Yujin cuts in. "You can have a Coke on the way home."
"You said that last time and I didn't get a Coke."
"I forgot. I bought one later."
"You bought Pepsi. I don't like Pepsi."
"They taste the same, Rei."
"They absolutely do not taste the same. Coke is better. It's always been better. It's scientifically proven."
You hold up a hand. "I'll give you a Coke before you leave. I have a whole fridge full."
Rei beams at you like you just promised her a pony. Yujin rolls her eyes and snaps her fingers twice, redirecting the room's energy back to the task at hand.
"We should start. Right now. Before this turns into a beverage debate." She reaches back into the first briefcase, the fun one, and pulls out several sets of lingerie, holding them up for your inspection. A red lace set. A black number with straps that seem architecturally impossible. Something white and sheer that leaves less to the imagination than a clear window. "Which one do you prefer?"
You look at the options. You look at Yujin. You look at Rei. "You don't have to wear any of that. I’m fine."
Yujin's face falls. She stares at the lingerie in her hands, then slowly, mournfully, folds each set and places them back in the briefcase. "I arranged all of this for nothing. I spent an hour picking these out. An hour. At La Perla."
"I'm sure they're very nice."
"They're gorgeous. You have no taste." She closes the briefcase. "Fine, Mr. Vanilla. Let's go."
You lead them down the hallway to your bedroom. It's large, open, and minimal. King bed against one wall, floor-to-ceiling windows on the other, clean surfaces, muted colors.
You turn to face them. "So. How do we start?"
Rei raises a tentative hand, half like she's in a classroom. "Maybe a few kisses? To break the ice?"
Yujin is already unbuttoning her blazer. "You two get started. I'm going to warm up."
You watch her shrug off her jacket and toss it onto a chair. "Why do you need to warm up before sex?"
"To avoid joint problems." She rolls her shoulders in slow circles. "Warming up is a fundamental part of any physical activity, including sex. Especially sex. I don't want to wake up tomorrow with neck pain and a tweaked hip because I went in cold." She drops into a lunge, stretching her right quad with absolute seriousness. "You can’t mess around when it comes to your health.”
You sit on the edge of the bed. Rei sits next to you, close but not quite touching. Her hands rest on her thighs, fingers fidgeting with the hem of her skirt. You look at her, and she gives you a small, shy smile that makes her round cheeks push up slightly.
"I've never seen you before," you say. "Are you new?"
"I started working with Wonyoung pretty recently. This is actually my first time doing something like this." She glances over at Yujin, who is now doing push-ups in her underwear on your bedroom floor. "Yujin is supervising me. She says I need field experience."
"Field experience."
"That's what she calls it."
In the corner, Yujin knocks out another push-up, perfectly controlled. Her arms flex, and her dark hair pools on the floor beneath her. The girl has form; you'll give her that.
You turn back to Rei. "Can I kiss you?"
She nods. Just a small dip of her chin. With her permission, you reach up and cup her face with one hand, your thumb resting just below her cheekbone. She's warm. Her skin is impossibly soft. You lean in and press your lips to hers, gentle, unhurried. Her mouth is full and plush, and there's a faint sweetness there, something glossy and almost fruity. The kiss stays soft for a few seconds before it deepens, just slightly, her lips parting, the tip of her tongue brushing against yours with a tentativeness that's almost careful. Like she's still figuring out how much of herself to give.
When you pull back, you drag your thumb slowly across her lower lip. The gloss smears just slightly.
"You're pretty," you tell her. "Cute, too."
"Thank you." A faint blush creeps up from her neck. "You're very polite. Most guys just skip straight to grabbing."
"I'm a gentleman. For now."
She bites the inside of her cheek, fighting a smile. "Can I take my clothes off now?"
You nod. Rei stands and starts with her blazer, folding it neatly over the back of a chair. You help her with the buttons on her blouse, fingers working down the front while she unzips her skirt and lets it slide down her legs. She steps out of it, and there she is. Black panties. Black bra. Just like she said.
Her body hits different without the corporate layers hiding it. She’s curvy in a way those formal clothes were clearly trying to keep in check. Full hips, a soft waist, thick thighs that brush together when she shifts. Her chest fills out her bra easily. Her face hasn’t changed though - round cheeks, wide brown eyes, lips still faintly smudged from your kiss. That contrast, innocent face and everything beneath it, makes your pulse spike.
You pull her gently back onto the bed and kiss her again, slower this time, your hand sliding to the back of her neck as you ease her down against the mattress. Her hair fans out across your sheets, dark against white. When you settle over her, careful to hold your weight, she looks up at you and there's this brightness in her eyes, something electric and new.
“You’re a really good kisser,” she murmurs. “Even more handsome in person, too.”
"Rei." Yujin's bark comes from the foot of the bed. She's finished her push-ups and is standing there in nothing but a matching navy bra and panties, hands on her hips, a thin sheen of sweat across her collarbones. "Tone it down with the sweet talk. You're here to accomplish a task, not fall in love with the target."
"What happens if she falls in love?" you ask, still hovering over Rei.
"I'll have to kill her."
Rei's eyes go wide.
Yujin holds the serious face for exactly two seconds, then breaks into a grin. "Kidding! But seriously, this is a professional engagement. Keep it professional."
"You just did push-ups on his floor in your underwear, Yujin. How professional is that?"
"Extremely. That was occupational health and safety." Yujin climbs onto the bed, and the mattress dips under her. She's lean and long, toned arms, flat stomach, legs that don't seem to end. She crawls toward you with a confidence that borders on territorial. "Move over, little bird. I want to see if he's really that good."
She grabs your jaw with one hand, not rough but not gentle either, pulls you off Rei and onto your back, and swings a leg over you. Before you can get a single syllable out, she's kissing you. And where Rei was tentative and sweet, Yujin is immediate and aggressive, her mouth hot against yours, her tongue pushing in without asking permission. She kisses like she's trying to win something. You match her energy, one hand gripping her waist, the other sliding up her back, and she makes a small sound of approval against your lips.
When she pulls back, she's slightly breathless. She wipes the corner of her mouth with her thumb and tilts her head, evaluating. "Not bad. Eight out of ten. Room for improvement."
"Tough grader."
"I have standards." She looks down at Rei, who's propped up on her elbows watching the whole thing with mild fascination. Yujin's gaze drags over Rei's body with open appreciation. "She does have a really nice body, though. For someone who only drinks Coke."
"I don't only drink Coke! And I work out."
"When?"
"Sometimes..."
"Wow, that's fucking convincing." Yujin leans down and kisses her. Rei's hand comes up to rest on Yujin's shoulder, and for a moment the two of them are just tangled together on your bed, all lips and skin. Then Yujin pulls away and turns back to you.
"Clothes off. Rei, help me."
They work in tandem. Rei handles the buttons on your shirt while Yujin goes straight for your belt. Your shirt comes off first, and Rei's fingers trail briefly across your chest before she catches herself and pulls back. Your pants follow, Yujin yanking them off your legs with zero ceremony and tossing them somewhere behind her.
Both girls sit back on their heels and look at you. Just your boxer briefs left, and they're not doing a great job of hiding anything.
"Wonyoung picks her boyfriends very well," Yujin says, her gaze traveling across your torso, your arms, down your stomach. "At least she's got good taste in bodies."
Rei's head tilts. "Is it true that you and Wonyoung never actually had sex?"
"Yeah. We kissed a few times, tops. It never went further than that."
Yujin snorts. "That's pathetic."
“Hey, don’t be so harsh,” Rei says.
"No, she's right," you admit. "It was a pathetic relationship. The whole thing was for show."
"Okay, that's enough moping." Yujin flicks your forehead with her finger. "Stop crying. You've got two girls to fuck today. That's a net upgrade from zero. Rei, calm the baby down."
Rei leans over you and starts pressing small, quick kisses all over your face. Forehead. Cheeks. Nose. Chin. The corner of your mouth. Each one leaves a faint lipstick mark on your skin, and she giggles between them. Yujin joins in from the other side, stamping little prints across your jaw and temple.
You can feel them both laughing, their breath warm against your skin, and despite everything, you have to press your lips together to stop yourself from smiling. "Okay. You can stop now,” you say, and they obey, still laughing. “You’re gonna leave me looking like a passport full of stamps.”
Yujin's hand slides south. Her fingers trail down your stomach and settle over the front of your boxer briefs. She palms you through the fabric, and her eyebrows lift, not dramatically, just a little. Her grip adjusts, fingers curling slightly, testing the thickness, the length. You feel yourself twitch against her hand.
Rei reaches over too, her smaller hand pressing against you from the other side, and her lips part just slightly. "It's really big."
"The little bird loves a big cock in her mouth, don't you, Rei?" Yujin squeezes you gently through the cotton, not taking her eyes off Rei's face.
"Maybe..."
Yujin takes Rei's face in her free hand, squishing her cheeks gently between her fingers, and angles her toward you like she's presenting a product. "Look at this adorable little face. These brown eyes. These full lips. Tell me they don't look perfect wrapped around a cock."
The blush on Rei's cheeks darkens, spreading down her neck. She pulls her face free from Yujin's grip. “You’re way more of a slut than I am,” she says flatly.
They continue this back and forth while their hands work together to tug your boxer briefs down your thighs, over your knees, and off your ankles. Your cock springs free, fully hard, thick and flushed and straining against your stomach.
Both of them go quiet for about half a second.
"Well," Yujin says.
"Yeah," Rei agrees.
Your cock sits between them, heavy and at their complete disposal. Rei makes the first move. Her fingers wrap around the base of your cock, tentative at first, like she's testing the weight of it. Her grip is soft, polite even, and she gives a slow experimental stroke from root to tip. Yujin's hand joins a second later, wrapping around the upper half, and together their fingers overlap and slide in a lazy, uncoordinated rhythm that somehow still feels incredible.
"Okay, he's really hard," Rei murmurs, more to herself than anyone else. Her thumb swipes across the head, spreading the bead of precum that's already gathered there. She watches it with a focus that borders on academic.
"What did you expect? We've been touching him for ten minutes." Yujin adjusts her grip, tighter, more purposeful. She strokes you with a confidence that suggests she's done this more than a few times, her wrist rolling at the top of each stroke. "Rei, match my pace. You're going too slow."
"I'm being gentle."
"He doesn't need gentle. He needs results." They find a rhythm eventually, both hands working you in tandem, Yujin's grip firmer and faster, Rei's softer and more exploratory. The contrast alone is enough to make your hips shift against the mattress. Two different touches, two different temperatures, four hands on you at once. Your cock throbs between their fingers, thick and flushed, and you let your head fall back against the pillow.
Then Yujin leans forward and spits directly onto the head of your cock. A thick, wet strand that rolls down the shaft and over both their fingers. Rei blinks. "Yujin!"
"What? It needs to be wet. I'm providing lubrication. This is a professional service."
Yujin doesn't wait for further commentary. She dips her head and takes you into her mouth, her lips stretching around the tip, her tongue pressing flat against the underside as she slides down. She's sloppy about it on purpose, generating as much spit as possible, pulling back to let long strings of saliva connect her lips to your cock before diving back in. She bobs her head with an efficiency that matches the rest of her personality: fast, aggressive, no wasted motion. Her hand works what her mouth can't reach, twisting on each upstroke.
She pulls off and nudges your cock toward Rei. "Your turn. Show me what you've got, little bird." Rei tucks her hair behind both ears, lowers her head, and takes you in. And immediately goes deeper than Yujin did. Significantly deeper. Her throat opens and your cock slides in past the halfway point, then further, her nose nearly touching your pelvis before she pulls back with a slow, controlled drag. Your stomach clenches. Your fingers grip the sheets.
"What the fuck," Yujin says, watching Rei's throat work.
Rei comes up for air, a thin line of spit trailing from her lower lip. She wipes her chin with the back of her hand. "What?"
"Since when can you do that?"
"I've always been able to do that."
The two alternate. Yujin takes the left side, her tongue tracing the length from base to tip, getting you soaked, spreading spit everywhere with a shamelessness that's almost admirable. Then Rei swallows you deep again, her throat constricting around your shaft, and holds there for a count that makes your toes curl before pulling back.
It's been a long time since anyone has put their mouth on you. Months. Maybe longer. You stayed faithful to Wonyoung through the entire relationship, which in retrospect was probably the stupidest form of loyalty you've ever demonstrated. You very much doubt she showed you the same courtesy, but that's a thought for another day, because right now two beautiful girls are sharing your cock and your brain is having trouble forming complete sentences.
"So," you manage, your breathing a little uneven as Rei takes you deep again. "What do you two usually do when you're not, uh. Working?"
Yujin pulls her mouth off the side of your shaft and gives you a flat look, saliva glossing her chin. "Don't try to engage in personal conversation. This is a professional engagement."
"You're literally licking my dick."
"And it's a perfect dick, by the way. I mean that professionally." She drags her tongue from your balls to the tip in one long stripe. "Professionally perfect. Five stars on the dick Yelp."
Rei surfaces, catching her breath, her lips swollen and shiny. "I like watching anime," she says casually, like she's not kneeling between your legs with your cock an inch from her face. "And I play my Switch 2 a lot. And I listen to music."
"Yeah? Who do you listen to?"
She wraps her hand around you and strokes slowly while she talks, absentminded, like she's forgotten what her hand is doing. "I really like Noah Cyrus. Aphex Twin. Gracie Abrams. Björk. A lot of different stuff."
Yujin groans. "Here we go. She's so performative with this indie shit. She even has a Letterboxd."
"What's wrong with having a Letterboxd?" Rei asks, visibly offended.
"You probably fakelist all those weird movies. There's no way you actually watched Mulholland Drive and understood it.”
"I understood it."
"What's it about then?"
Rei opens her mouth, pauses, then puts your cock back in it instead of answering. A tactical retreat.
"That's what I thought." Yujin grabs a fistful of Rei's hair, gently, and guides her pace. "Stop talking and keep sucking him off. Earn your five stars for best blowjob giver." She leans down and joins her, both their mouths working you simultaneously. Yujin shifts lower, her tongue finding your balls, lapping at them with broad, wet strokes while her hand holds the base of your cock steady. She takes one into her mouth and sucks gently, and you feel it all the way up your spine.
Meanwhile Rei has you deep in her throat again, her nose pressed against your lower stomach, swallowing around you in a way that makes your abs tense involuntarily. She holds there, eyes watering just slightly, then pulls back with a gasp and immediately goes back down.
"She can swallow the whole thing," Yujin observes, pulling off your balls to watch. "She must have sucked a lot of dick to get this good. That's just math."
Rei comes up, flushed. "That's not true. I just have a good throat."
"That's what they all say."
"It's what I say. Because it's true."
"Sure, Rei. And Mulholland Drive makes sense." They both come together at the tip, their tongues meeting around the head of your cock, lapping at it from opposite sides. Rei's tongue slides across the sensitive underside while Yujin circles the ridge, and then their tongues touch, slick and pink, and they kiss over the head of your cock, slow and messy. Yujin bites Rei's lower lip gently before pulling away. Rei's eyes are glazed, her cheeks are red, and there's spit all over her chin.
They pull back. Your cock stands between them, absolutely drenched, twitching against your stomach. Rei leans in one more time and presses a soft, almost tender kiss to the very tip. Just a peck. She looks up at you through her lashes. "Do I deserve five stars?"
"Absolutely,” you reply, sounding slightly breathless. “I'd write a review praising your technique. Detailed. With specific examples."
Her smile is genuine, bright enough to crease her whole face. It’s achingly cute, at odds with her puffed lips and the messy trail of spit and precum glistening on her chin. “That’s so sweet.”
Yujin sits up and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. "Okay. Enough of the customer satisfaction survey. It's time to put this cock to work." She pats your thigh firmly. "Let's see if it's just for show or if it has some practical use."
"It has practical use,” you inform Yujin.
"We'll be the judges of that." She settles back on her heels and looks at you expectantly. "So who do you want to fuck first?" Before you can answer, Yujin turns her head sharply to the side and sneezes. Hard. She sniffles, blinks, and waves a hand in front of her face. "Sorry. My rhinitis flares up when I give head. Something about the angle." She pinches the bridge of her nose. "I really need to get that deviated septum surgery. I've been putting it off."
"Take your time."
"I'm fine. Answer the question. Who do you want first?"
"I don't mind. Whoever wants to go."
Yujin gestures at Rei with a tilt of her head. "Rei goes first, then. Since she's already head over heels for you."
Rei straightens up, indignant. "I am not head over heels for anyone. I'm just an affectionate person."
"You kissed the tip of his dick like it was a puppy."
"That's just how I am."
"Great. Then you can be very affectionate eating my pussy while he fucks you from behind. Put all that affection to good use." Yujin is already reaching behind her back to unclasp her bra. "Clothes off. Both of us. Let's go." The two of them strip. Yujin's bra comes off first, and her breasts are small but firm, her nipples already stiff. She hooks her thumbs into her panties and peels them down her legs without an ounce of self-consciousness, kicking them off the side of the bed. She's lean all over, slim hips, toned stomach, long legs, with a neat strip of dark hair between her thighs.
Rei takes a little longer. She reaches back and undoes her bra with careful fingers, letting the straps slide down her shoulders before pulling it away. Her breasts are fuller than Yujin's, round and heavy, and they settle against her chest with a softness that makes you stare. She wiggles out of her panties, and true to her earlier claim, she's smooth everywhere. Her hips flare wider than Yujin's, her thighs thicker, her whole body built along softer, rounder lines. She looks like a Renaissance painting someone accidentally dropped into the twenty-first century.
Both of them naked, side by side on your bed, are a sight that your brain is going to be replaying for the rest of your natural life.
Yujin catches you staring. "Have you never seen two naked girls at the same time before?"
"No. Never."
"Seriously? With your money?" She shakes her head with genuine disbelief. "If I had your bank account, my bed would be full of whores every single day. I'd have a subscription service."
"I had a girlfriend."
"You had a business partner. There's a difference." She crawls up the bed and settles against the headboard, sitting upright with her legs parted. She pats the space between them and looks at Rei. "Come on, little bird. Get in position."
Rei gets on all fours. She lowers herself, her elbows resting on the mattress, and settles her face between Yujin's open thighs. Her back arches naturally, pushing her ass up and out toward you. The curve of her spine is ridiculous, dipping down from her shoulders to the swell of her hips, and from this angle you can see everything, the smooth skin between her thighs, the pink of her pussy already glistening. She shifts her knees apart slightly, adjusting, and looks back over her shoulder at you. You're on your knees behind her, your cock still slick and hard, and the two of them are spread out in front of you like something your subconscious could never have conjured on its best night.
You're halfway to lining yourself up when a thought hits you. You pull back slightly. "Wait. Condom. I need a condom."
Yujin doesn't even blink. "Not necessary. We're both clean and on the pill. It's a job requirement. Wonyoung's team is very thorough about health compliance."
Rei turns her head, her cheek resting against Yujin's inner thigh. "We prefer to fuck raw anyway."
Yujin strokes Rei's hair once, almost affectionately. "The little bird is right. Besides, we've already had access to your medical records. Full panel. You're clean too."
You stare at her. "I think it's better if I don't ask how you got access to my medical records."
"Yeah, that would be wise."
You settle back into position behind Rei, your knees sinking into the mattress between her spread thighs. Her ass is pushed up toward you, round and full, and the arch in her lower back deepens the curve of her hips into something that makes your cock twitch. You reach down and run your index and middle fingers together along her entrance, slow, tracing the seam of her. She's soaked. Her lips are plump and pink and slick, and when your fingers drag through the wetness gathered there, she trembles. Not a big shudder, just a fine vibration that runs through her thighs and up her spine. Your fingers slide easily, parting her, feeling the heat radiating off her.
"Please put it in," Rei says, her grip tightening on the sheets near Yujin's hips. "Quickly. Sir."
Yujin's eyebrows shoot up at that. She looks down at Rei, then up at you, and a grin tugs at the corner of her mouth. She says nothing, but the look on her face says plenty. She threads her fingers into Rei's hair and guides her head gently between her legs. "Focus here, little bird. You've got a job to do too."
You take your cock in one hand and press the tip against Rei's entrance. The heat alone is staggering. You push forward, just the head at first, and her body resists for a second before opening around you, tight and slick and deliciously warm. You sink in an inch and stop, letting her adjust. She's so fucking tight it's almost difficult to move. Every fraction you push deeper, her walls grip you, squeeze you, like her body is trying to memorize the shape of you.
Rei exhales shakily into Yujin's thigh. Her fingers curl into the sheets. "My god, his dick..." You give her another inch. Then another. You can feel every ridge of her around you, the wet heat pulling you in, her muscles clenching and releasing in tiny flutters as she stretches to accommodate your thickness. By the time you're halfway inside her, Rei's forehead is pressed against Yujin's pelvis and her breathing has gone shallow and ragged.
"Breathe, Rei," Yujin says from above, her fingers still laced through Rei's hair. "And start licking. Multitask, babe."
Rei lifts her head slightly and lowers her mouth to Yujin's pussy. You watch her tongue extend and make contact, a slow, flat stroke from bottom to top, and Yujin's stomach muscles tighten visibly. Rei licks again, finding her rhythm, her tongue working in careful, measured passes while you continue feeding your cock into her from behind.
"Good girl," Yujin murmurs, and her hips shift against Rei's mouth.
You bottom out. Your hips press flush against Rei's ass, every inch of you buried inside her, and the sensation is so overwhelming that you have to hold still for a moment and just breathe. She's tight and hot and wet and alive around you, her walls pulsing, adjusting, gripping. You pull back slowly, watching your cock slide out of her, glistening, before pushing back in with a long, steady stroke. Rei gasps against Yujin's pussy, and you feel the vibration of it through your own body somehow.
You set a slow pace. There's no rush. Each thrust is full and deep, pulling almost all the way out before sinking back in to the base, and you savor every single second of it. The way her body yields to you, the wet friction, the obscene sound of skin meeting skin. You grip Rei's hips with both hands, thumbs pressing into the soft flesh above her ass, and use that leverage to control the depth and angle of each stroke. Her ass ripples slightly every time your hips connect, and the sight of it alone is enough to keep you hard for the rest of the afternoon.
Your eyes lift from Rei's back and find Yujin's. She's sitting against the headboard, legs spread wide, Rei's face buried between them, and she's looking right at you. Not at Rei. Not at the ceiling. At you. Those dark eyes are half-lidded and sharp at the same time, full of something that isn't quite challenge and isn't quite invitation but sits in that dangerous space between the two. She bites her lower lip, slow, letting her teeth drag across the pink of it, and holds your gaze.
"You look good like that," she says. "Behind her. Holding her hips. All that control." Her chin dips slightly. "It suits you."
You thrust into Rei again, unhurried, and watch Yujin's expression flicker as Rei moans against her. "You look pretty good yourself. Legs spread. Holding her hair while she eats your pussy." You push in deep and hold there, grinding slightly, and Rei whimpers. "Speaking of which. How's she doing down there?"
Yujin's breath catches. A low, unguarded moan slips out of her before she can stop it. She recovers quickly, tipping her head back against the headboard. "Pretty good. The little bird has a very skillful tongue. I'll give her that."
"I know. I just had that mouth on my cock. She's talented."
"Mm. Multi-talented." Yujin's hips roll forward against Rei's face, a slow, grinding motion she's clearly trying to keep subtle and failing. Her fingers tighten in Rei's hair. "She's doing this thing right now with the tip of her tongue that's... yeah. That's really good."
You pull back and thrust into Rei harder. Not brutal, but firm enough that the impact travels through her entire body, pushes her face deeper between Yujin's legs. Rei moans, a muffled, desperate sound that vibrates directly against Yujin's clit, and Yujin's thighs clamp around Rei's head for a split second before she forces them open again.
"Fuck," Yujin breathes. "Do that again."
You do it again. A deep, intentional thrust that buries you to the hilt inside Rei, and her whole body rocks forward. She moans louder this time, the sound smothered by Yujin's pussy, and you can see the effect it has in real time: Yujin's stomach flexing, her toes curling against the sheets, her fingers pulling Rei's hair tighter.
"You're using her as a vibrator," Yujin says, and there's a breathlessness in the way she says it that wasn't there before. "That's very resourceful."
"I'm a problem solver."
Rei pulls her head up just long enough to gasp for air, her chin slick, her lips swollen and shiny. "You two are going to break me and I haven't even been here an hour." She sounds wrecked already, her eyes glassy, her cheeks flushed so deep they're almost red.
"Get back to work," Yujin says, pressing Rei's head back down. "You're on the clock."
You settle into a rhythm. Each stroke is measured and full, your hips meeting Rei's ass with a steady, wet impact that echoes off the bedroom walls. You're not rushing. You're not chasing anything. You're just enjoying the feel of her, tight and slick and trembling around you, and the view in front of you is so fucking good it almost doesn't feel real. Rei's back, arched and glistening with the faintest sheen of sweat. Her ass, round and pushed back against you, taking every inch of you like she was built for it. And beyond her, Yujin, watching you with those dark, sharp eyes, her chest rising and falling a little faster than she'd probably like to admit.
You change the angle slightly, tilting your hips upward on the next thrust, and Rei's entire body jolts. She pulls off Yujin's pussy and her mouth falls open, a choked, guttural sound pouring out of her that she clearly wasn't expecting. "There," she pants. "Right there. Please."
"You found her spot," Yujin says, looking at you over Rei's trembling body. "You're getting warmer."
You hit the same angle again, a slow grind that presses the head of your cock against that swollen ridge inside her, and Rei's arms give out. Her chest drops to the mattress, her face turning sideways against Yujin's thigh, and her fingers grip Yujin's hips with a desperation that leaves white marks on her skin. You keep going, maintaining that exact angle, that exact pressure, and Rei is falling apart beneath you in a way that's almost too satisfying.
"Use your tongue, Rei," Yujin reminds her, tugging her hair. "Don't forget about me." Rei, with visible effort, turns her head back and buries her face between Yujin's legs again. Her licking is messier now, less precise, all broad strokes and sloppy enthusiasm, but from the way Yujin's abs keep clenching, it's working just fine.
You lean forward slightly, one hand still on Rei's hip, the other bracing on the mattress, and fuck into her with a slow, grinding pace that never lets her catch her breath. Every time you bottom out, you hold there for half a second, letting her feel the full depth of you, before pulling back and doing it again. Rei is shaking. Her thighs are quivering. And the sounds she's making into Yujin's pussy are getting louder, needier, more broken with every thrust.
"She's dripping all over your sheets," Yujin observes, glancing down between Rei's legs. "Absolutely ruining them. I hope you have a good dry cleaner."
"I'll manage."
"You better. Egyptian cotton isn't cheap." Yujin's hips buck forward against Rei's mouth, just once, a sharp involuntary movement she immediately tries to play off by adjusting her position against the headboard. But you saw it. You saw the way her jaw tightened, the way her fingers gripped a fistful of Rei's hair and held on, the way her thighs tensed and trembled for a fraction of a second.
She catches you watching and narrows her eyes. "What?"
"Nothing."
"Stop smiling."
"I'm not smiling."
"You're smiling with your eyes. Stop it." You thrust into Rei again, deep and firm, and the moan Rei produces into Yujin's pussy makes Yujin's head fall back against the headboard with an audible thud. Her eyes flutter shut. Her chest heaves. And for just a moment, the cocky, controlled, chaos-agent exterior cracks, and underneath it there's just a girl getting her pussy eaten really, really well.
She opens her eyes and finds you still looking at her. Something shifts in her expression. Something warm and a little bit dangerous. "Your turn is coming," she says. "And I'm not going to be as easy as she is."
"Looking forward to it."
Rei lifts her head, breathless, chin soaked, and manages to look over her shoulder at you with half-lidded eyes. "Can you go a little harder? Please, sir?" You grab Rei's hips with both hands and give her exactly what she asked for. The pace shifts from slow and teasing to firm, constant, each thrust landing with purpose and weight. Your hips snap forward and drive deep, pulling back just enough to slam home again, and the wet, rhythmic slap of your skin against hers fills the room like a metronome set to filthy. Rei's whole body rocks forward with every stroke, her knees sliding on the sheets, her fingers clawing at whatever she can reach.
You spread her cheeks with both thumbs, pulling them apart, and the view opens up completely. Her pussy stretched around your cock, pink and swollen and glistening, gripping you on every outstroke like she doesn't want to let you go. Her tight little asshole on full display above it, clenching involuntarily every time you bottom out. Everything wet, everything exposed, everything yours to look at while you fuck her at a pace that's making her lose the ability to form thoughts.
"Don't stop," Rei pants into Yujin's thigh, her face turned sideways because she can barely hold herself up anymore. "Please don't stop. Your dick is too fucking good."
Yujin looks down at her with undisguised delight. Her eyes are wide and bright and she's grinning in a way that suggests she's witnessing something she's been waiting to see for a very long time. The sweet Rei. The polite Rei. The girl who watches anime and plays her Switch and listens to Björk and blushes when someone mentions her underwear. That Rei is currently face-down between another girl's legs, getting railed from behind, and begging for more. Yujin reaches down and strokes Rei's hair away from her flushed, sweaty face like she's petting a cat.
"Look at you," Yujin says, and her tone is somewhere between pride and amazement. "Little miss 'I just have a good throat.' Little miss 'I'm just an affectionate person.' You're a complete slut, Rei."
Rei's fingers tighten on Yujin's thigh. Her back arches deeper, pressing her ass harder against you. "I can't help it." Her eyes are squeezed shut and her mouth is hanging open and the flush on her face has spread all the way down her neck to her chest. "His cock is just too fucking good. It's so thick and it's hitting everything and I can't think straight."
You thrust into her hard enough that her body lurches forward and she lets out a sound that's half gasp, half moan, entirely desperate. You bring your hand down on her right ass cheek, a sharp, clean slap that leaves a pink print on her skin and makes her whole body clench around you. The tightness is staggering. You feel it from the tip of your cock to the base of your spine. "Moan for me," you tell her.
Rei's head drops. Her shoulders tremble. And when you thrust into her again, she lets it out, a raw, unfiltered moan that she doesn't even try to contain. It's loud enough to bounce off the walls of your minimalist bedroom, and it's the most genuine sound you've heard all day.
"Yes, daddy!" The word falls out of her mouth like it's been sitting there waiting for permission. "Spank my ass more. Please. Harder."
You slap her left cheek this time, harder, and Rei's pussy clenches so tight around you that your rhythm stutters for a second. Her skin blooms red under your palm and she pushes back against you, grinding herself onto your cock with a desperation that's completely unrecognizable from the shy, formal girl who handed you a briefcase forty minutes ago.
"Again," she begs. "Please, daddy, again."
You give her another one, right across the curve where her ass meets her thigh, and the moan she produces is broken and raw and so loud that Yujin stops even pretending Rei is going to eat her out anymore. Rei's face is buried in the mattress between Yujin's legs, her mouth open, drool soaking into the sheets, and every thrust you deliver makes her entire body shake.
Yujin shifts her position, sliding her back up the headboard so she can see better. She spreads her legs wider, her left hand drifting between her own thighs, two fingers finding her clit and starting to rub in slow, tight circles. Her right hand stays in Rei's hair, gripping loosely, more for contact than control now.
"Fuck her good," Yujin tells you, her fingers picking up speed between her legs. "Harder. Reset her brain. I want to see her forget her own name."
You grab Rei's hips and pull her back onto your cock as you thrust forward, and the collision draws a sound out of her that isn't even a moan anymore, it's just noise, raw and broken and high-pitched. Her hands are fisted in the sheets so hard her knuckles have gone white. Her back is arched so deep her stomach nearly touches the mattress. And she's babbling, a stream of fragmented, barely coherent pleas that tumble out of her in between gasps. "So deep, you're so fucking deep, I can feel you in my stomach, don't stop, please don't stop, daddy, please..."
"She called you daddy," Yujin says, rubbing her clit faster, her chest rising and falling with quickening breaths. "Twice. The sweet little rookie is calling you daddy. This is the best day of my professional career."
You maintain the pace, steady and relentless, your cock driving into Rei with a consistency that never lets her come down. Every time she thinks she's caught her breath, you're already bottoming out again, filling her completely, your hips pressed flush against her ass. The wet sounds between you are constant and obscene, and Rei's pussy is so slick that every thrust produces an audible squelch that would be embarrassing in any other context but right now just makes you fuck her harder.
"I think I'm gonna cum," Rei gasps suddenly, and her whole body goes rigid. Her walls clamp down on you so hard you can barely move. Her thighs are shaking violently, her toes curling, her fingers tearing at the sheets. "Holy shit. Holy shit, I'm going to cum on your dick. I'm going to cum, I can't stop it, it's right there..."
"Cum for me." You grip her hips and keep your pace exactly where it is, deep and firm, hitting that spot inside her with every stroke. "Cum like a good girl."
"Yes, daddy." Her entire body is vibrating. Her head lifts off the mattress and her back arches and her mouth opens and nothing comes out for a second, two seconds, three seconds. "Yes, daddy, I'm cumming, I'm cumming, I'm—"
Yujin exhales sharply, her fingers a blur between her own legs. "Fuck, it's so hot watching her like this. She's completely gone. I'm almost cumming just from looking at her."
Rei's orgasm hits her suddenly and all at once. Her body locks up completely, every muscle tensed, and then she lets out a sharp, sustained moan that breaks in the middle and keeps going. You feel it around your cock, intense rhythmic contractions that squeeze and release, squeeze and release, her pussy pulsing around you in waves. Her thighs clamp against your hips. Her fingers claw the sheets so hard you hear fabric rip. The flush on her skin darkens to a deep, blotchy red that spreads from her cheeks down her neck to her shoulders.
You slow your pace, dragging it out. Long, deep, lazy strokes that keep her trembling, keep the contractions going, coax every last tremor out of her. Every slow thrust draws another whimper from her, smaller now, softer, her body twitching each time you push in. You can feel the aftershocks rippling through her, her walls fluttering weakly around your cock, and the wet heat between you is almost unbearable.
Gradually, Rei's body goes slack. Her knees give out and she melts onto her stomach, sinking into the mattress with the boneless grace of someone whose skeleton has temporarily left the building. She's still shaking, tiny little aftershocks running through her limbs, and her breathing is ragged and uneven. You lean over her, your chest close to her back, and press your lips to her shoulder. She's warm and damp with sweat and she smells faintly like floral fruity perfume and sex.
Rei turns her head on the pillow and looks up at you. Her eyes are glazed. Her lips are parted. Her hair is plastered to her forehead in sweaty strands. And she's smiling. It's the dumbest, happiest, most sex-drunk grin you've ever seen on a human face, the kind of smile that only happens when someone's brain is still rebooting after a catastrophic pleasure event. "I can't believe Wonyoung never tried your cock," she mumbles, still catching her breath. "What a waste. What an absolute waste. She had this the entire time and she never once sat on it."
"Her loss,” you say.
"Her monumental loss." Rei shifts slightly, wincing at the sensitivity, then settles back into the mattress with a contented sigh. "I barely had one orgasm and I already want more. My legs don't work though. Give me a minute."
"Take your time."
"Nope." Yujin is already moving. She crawls across the bed with the energy of someone who's been watching the previews and is ready for the main feature. She nudges Rei's leg out of the way and settles between yours, her fingers wrapping around your cock, still slick and hard and coated in the evidence of Rei's orgasm. She looks at it for a second, appraising, then lowers her mouth and takes you in.
The taste of Rei's cum on your cock makes Yujin hum appreciatively, a low, sustained vibration around your shaft that sends a shockwave through your hips. She sucks slowly, savoring it, her tongue swirling and pressing, cleaning every inch of you with a thoroughness that's almost meditative. She pulls off with a wet sound and licks her lips.
"Tastes so good," she says, stroking you lazily, her thumb smearing Rei's slickness along the shaft. "Like Coke."
From somewhere behind her, Rei grunts. "Stop it!"
A pillow flies across the bed and catches Yujin in the side of the head. She catches it one-handed before it falls, laughing so hard her shoulders shake, and tosses it onto the floor. "Chill! I’m kidding..." She gives your cock one more long, slow lick from base to tip, then releases you and crawls forward, positioning herself above you.
Yujin straddles your hips, her knees on either side of your waist, her hands flat on your chest. She's lean and warm above you, her dark hair hanging around her face, her small breasts catching the light from the windows. Up close, you can see the thin sheen of sweat on her collarbones, the slight flush across her chest, the way her pupils are blown wide despite the composed expression she's wearing. She reaches back with one hand and takes hold of your cock, angling it upward, and you feel the head press against her entrance, hot and slick. She's wetter than she probably wants to admit.
She holds you there, right at the edge, not letting you in. She looks down at you with an expression that's part challenge, part warning. "Let's see what all the fuss is about." She rolls her hips slightly, teasing, the tip of your cock sliding through her wetness without entering. "I should tell you upfront. I'm not easily impressed. Not like Rei."
From across the bed, Rei lifts her head just enough to protest. "I wasn't easily impressed, his dick is just really good."
"You called him daddy within five minutes."
"He earned it." Yujin ignores her. She adjusts her grip on your cock, positions it exactly where she wants it, and locks eyes with you. "Ready?"
"Yes. Let's see if the professional is really that good."
Yujin's eyebrow lifts. A slow, dangerous arch. "Are you challenging me?"
"I am."
She grins. "You just made a very big mistake." She shifts her weight above you, her thighs flexing on either side of your hips. "New rule. Whoever orgasms first loses. And the loser has to fulfill one request from the winner. Anything. No limits, no negotiations, no backing out. Are you in?"
"Yeah, I'm in,” you say, confidently.
"Good." Yujin sinks down onto your cock. Her jaw tightens and her eyes narrow but she doesn't make a sound, taking you inside her with a controlled patience that's almost defiant. She's tight, not as tight as Rei but tight in a different way, her muscles gripping you with an intentional squeeze that tells you she knows exactly what she's doing with her body. When she bottoms out, her ass flush against your thighs, she lets out a single measured breath through her nose and rolls her shoulders.
From the other side of the bed, Rei is lying on her stomach, chin propped on her hands, watching the two of you with the satisfied, dreamy look of someone who just got thoroughly fucked and is now enjoying the show. She catches your eye and gives you a small, conspiratorial nod. "I'm rooting for you."
Yujin's head whips toward her. "Traitor. Traitor to the entire gender. I'm writing you up for this."
"Write me up all you want. I want him to win."
"You've known him for an hour. I expected a bit more from you.” Yujin turns back to you and starts to move. Torturously slow. She lifts her hips until just the head of your cock is inside her, holds there for a count that feels like an eternity, then sinks back down in one fluid, rolling motion. It's sensual in a way that's almost aggressive, every movement calculated to make you feel as much as possible while she gives away nothing. Her stomach flexes. Her thighs tense. She keeps her eyes locked on yours the entire time, watching for any crack in your composure, any twitch, any tell.
"So," she says, rolling her hips in a slow circle that makes your fingers dig into the sheets. "Do you know what you'll ask for? If, hypothetically, by some miracle, you manage to win this bet?"
You look up at her. At both of them. "I wanna get to know you two better. I want to take you both out. Get dinner. actually having a real conversation instead of just this… transactional sex."
Yujin laughs. "A date? That's your big ask? You could ask for anything and you want to take us to dinner?" She shakes her head, still riding you with that agonizing slowness. "Smart aleck. Trying to charm us. Well, it doesn't matter, because you're not going to win. We'll finish the job today and you'll never see either of us again. We serve Wonyoung."
"I can treat you both better than she does,” you argue.
Yujin's rhythm falters for just a fraction of a second. Barely noticeable. She covers it immediately. "Oh yeah?"
"As people. Not tools for her to dispatch whenever she can't be bothered to handle her own life."
The room goes quiet for a beat. Just the wet, slick sound of Yujin moving on you and the soft rustle of sheets. Then she starts bouncing. Properly bouncing, lifting herself up and dropping back down with a snap of her hips that drives your cock deep and draws a sharp exhale from your chest. Her ass connects with your thighs on every downstroke and the impact sends ripples through her body that you can feel in your teeth.
She's good. She's really fucking good. The way she angles her hips, the way she squeezes you at the top of each bounce, the way she uses her weight on the drop. Her ass is incredible, firm and round, and watching it work as she rides you is pure bliss.
"What about you?" you manage, keeping your breathing even through sheer willpower. "What's your request if you win?"
Yujin's grin turns feral. She leans forward, her hands on your chest, her face close to yours. "I'm going to fuck your ass." You swallow hard. "There's a strap-on in the briefcase in the living room. You're going to be my slut." She punctuates this with a hard downward thrust that buries you to the hilt. "I'm going to bend you over this very expensive bed and make you call me mommy."
Across the bed, Rei buries her face in the pillow. Her ears are bright red. You can hear her muffled squeak of shock through the cotton.
You hold Yujin's gaze. You keep your expression perfectly flat, perfectly unbothered, even though she's riding your cock like she's trying to break it. "Then maybe you'd better try harder. I've had better rides from girls before."
Her face changes instantly, the playful confidence slipping away as raw irritation takes its place. Her jaw clenches, her eyes narrow, and she starts riding you harder, slamming herself down with a ferocity that shakes the entire bed frame. Her pace doubles, then triples, her hips working furiously, the wet slap of skin against skin filling the room in a relentless rhythm. She's going to make you cum through sheer force of will and spite, and honestly the strategy isn't bad.
But it's costing her. Her breathing is getting ragged. Short, sharp inhales through her nose, quick exhales through parted lips. And the moans, the ones she's been holding back since this started, are beginning to leak out. Small ones at first, barely more than breathy gasps, but they're growing in volume and frequency with every passing second. Her thighs are trembling. The flush across her chest is deepening. "Rei." Yujin's composure is cracking and she knows it. "Help me. Do something. Get over here."
Rei lifts her head from the pillow and looks at you, questioning. You give her a small nod. It's fine. She crawls across the bed to your side, her body still flushed and marked from her own session, and lowers her mouth to your chest. Her lips close around your left nipple and she sucks gently, her tongue flicking across the sensitive skin, and the added sensation sends a jolt straight down your spine to your cock. Rei's hand rests on your stomach, warm and grounding, and she alternates between soft licks and gentle suction, her eyes closed, completely content in her supporting role.
You place both hands on Yujin's waist. Your thumbs press into the grooves of her hip bones and you guide her rhythm, not changing it, just steadying it, controlling the angle so that every time she drops down your cock hits exactly where it needs to. Yujin lets you, too focused on maintaining her pace to fight the direction, and the adjustment makes her next moan come out louder than the ones before.
You watch her. The way her stomach flexes with every movement. The way her small breasts bounce with each impact. The way her dark hair swings and sticks to the sweat on her neck and shoulders. The way her lips part and her brow furrows with concentration and barely contained pleasure. She's stunning. Absolutely, unreasonably stunning, in a way that's completely different from Rei's softness, all sharp angles and lean muscle and controlled power that's currently losing its grip. "You're gorgeous," you tell her.
Her eyes snap to yours. "What?"
"You're gorgeous. I'm looking at you riding me and you're the most gorgeous thing I've ever seen." Something complicated happens on Yujin's face. She tries to smirk but it comes out uneven, one corner of her mouth lifting while the other trembles. Her rhythm stutters and she has to reset, grinding down on you to find her pace again. "More gorgeous than Wonyoung?"
"Yes. A lot more."
The reaction is subtle but it's there. A softening around her eyes. A looseness in her shoulders that wasn't there before. Her fingers, braced on your chest, press a little harder, like she's anchoring herself to something. She liked it. She liked it a lot, and she's going to go to her grave before she admits that out loud. "You just broke up with your girlfriend," she says, and her attempt at a dismissive tone is undercut by the breathlessness in every syllable, "and you're already hitting on someone else. You're a slut. All men are the same. Every single one."
Rei detaches from your nipple, her chin resting on your chest, and looks up at Yujin with raised eyebrows. "You're being too bratty."
"Excuse me?"
"You heard me." Rei's hand squeezes your stomach once, encouraging. A grin spreads across her face, still loopy from her own orgasm. "Daddy, put her in her place."
You tighten your grip on Yujin's waist. She sees the shift in your expression half a second before she feels it, and her eyes widen just slightly. "Wait, what are you..." You plant your feet flat on the mattress and thrust upward. Hard. A single, powerful stroke that drives your cock deep inside her and lifts her knees off the bed for a fraction of a second. The sound that comes out of Yujin's mouth is loud and unguarded and completely involuntary, a full, open moan that she claps her hand over a second too late.
"Oh fuck," she whispers behind her fingers.
And you don't stop. You grab her hips and start fucking her from below, driving up into her with a pace that's fast and punishing and completely controlled. Every thrust is deep, the kind of deep that makes her stomach clench visibly, and you're not letting her set the rhythm anymore. She's riding you but you're the one in charge now, using your grip on her waist to pull her down onto every upstroke, meeting her body with a force that turns her controlled bouncing into something messy and desperate.
The transformation is immediate. Yujin's hands drop from her face to your chest for stability, her fingers splayed, her nails digging in. Her head falls forward, hair curtaining around her face, and the moans are coming freely now. Real moans. Loud, surprised, helpless moans that she couldn't stop if she tried. Her thighs are shaking against your sides, her abs are twitching, and the wet sounds between you have gotten louder, sloppier, more urgent.
"Oh my god," she breathes, and her hips jerk involuntarily. "How are you... what the fuck, how are you this..."
"This what?" you ask, not slowing down.
She grits her teeth, refusing to finish the sentence, but another deep thrust pulls a whine from her that answers the question anyway. Her back arches and she grinds down onto you, trying to find some control, some leverage, and you give it to her for exactly two seconds before slamming up into her again and watching her composure shatter.
You shift the angle slightly, tilting your hips, and on the next thrust you feel Yujin's entire body seize. Every muscle locks, her nails claw into your chest, and the moan that tears out of her throat is so raw and so loud that it makes Rei's eyebrows shoot up. You found the spot. You keep the angle and fuck into it relentlessly, steady and deep and unforgiving, and Yujin's composure doesn't just crack, it collapses.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck," she chants, her head thrown back, her throat exposed, her body bouncing on you helplessly. She's not riding you anymore. She's holding on. "You're so fucking deep, oh my god, you're so fucking deep and hard and I can't..."
She catches herself. Bites down on her lower lip so hard it goes white. Straightens up and plants her hands on your stomach, trying to wrestle back control. Her hips start moving again, grinding in slow circles, and she looks down at you with an expression that's equal parts furious and aroused. "I'm not losing this bet," she says, and the tremble in her thighs says otherwise.
Rei rolls onto her side, propping her head up on one hand, watching Yujin bounce on your cock with the serene satisfaction of someone who already got hers. "You really don't look like someone who's winning, Yujin."
"If I don’t peg his ass," Yujin pants between thrusts, her thighs trembling around your hips, "I'm fucking yours."
"Mm, I don't think so." Rei stretches lazily, running her fingers along the damp sheets. "After daddy makes you cum, you're not going to have the strength to get out of this bed. Trust me. I speak from very recent experience."
Yujin grinds down on you, her jaw tight, sweat rolling down her neck into the valley between her breasts. She shakes her head, stubborn to the bone. "His dick isn't even that good. Very overrated. All this hype for a solid six out of ten at best."
You plant your feet and drive up into her so hard that her hands slip off your chest. Her eyes roll back, her whole body jolting, and the moan that comes out of her is guttural and helpless and completely involuntary. She catches herself with both palms flat on your stomach, fingers splayed, panting, and for a second she just stays there, impaled on you, her brain clearly buffering.
You look at Rei. "Give me some space." Rei scoots back immediately, pulling a pillow with her, settling in cross-legged near the foot of the bed with the eager posture of someone who just got front-row seats to the best show of her life. You turn your attention back to Yujin, who's still trying to reassemble her composure above you. "You sound a lot better moaning than you do talking all that bullshit."
"That's so fucking rude,” she grumbles. “You don't get to tell me when to talk and when to..."
You tighten your grip on her waist. Both hands, firm, fingers digging into the lean muscle of her hips. In one fluid motion, you lift her off your cock, shift your weight, and flip her onto her back on the mattress. The air leaves her lungs in a sharp gasp as her shoulders hit the sheets, her hair fanning out around her head, her legs falling open on either side of you. Before she can process the change in position, you're already between her thighs, one hand pressing her hip into the mattress, the other guiding your cock back inside her. You push in with a single, deep stroke that fills her completely, and Yujin's entire body arches off the bed.
"Oh, fuck—" Now you're on top. Now you're in control. And from the way Yujin's eyes have gone wide and glassy, she knows it too. You set a pace that's fast and hard and unrelenting, your hips slamming into hers with a force that shakes the headboard against the wall.
Each thrust drives deep, bottoming out, and the wet, obscene sound of your cock pounding into her fills the room alongside Yujin's increasingly desperate moaning. Her legs wrap around your waist instinctively, her heels digging into the small of your back, pulling you closer even as her hands push against your chest in a confused, contradictory bid for some kind of control she's already lost.
"You're such a fucking asshole," she spits, but her pussy is clenching around you so tight with every thrust that the insult loses all its teeth. "You absolute piece of shit, you think you're so fucking special because your dick is big and you can last a long time, you arrogant, smug, insufferable..."
"Keep going." You thrust harder, deeper, angling your hips to hit that same spot that made her fall apart earlier. "Every time you insult me, I just want to fuck you harder."
"You're the worst lay I've ever had." Another thrust. She chokes on a moan. "You have no technique. Zero finesse. You're just a rich boy with a big cock and no personality."
"That's a lot of talking for someone who's shaking."
"I'm not shaking." She's shaking. Her entire body is trembling beneath you, her thighs quivering against your ribs, her stomach muscles twitching every time you bottom out. The insults keep coming but they're getting shorter, more fragmented, punctuated by moans she can't swallow anymore.
You bring your right hand up and place it on her throat. Not squeezing. Not choking. Just resting there, your fingers curled around the column of her neck, your thumb against her pulse point, a firm, steady pressure that says everything without applying any real force.
Yujin's reaction is nuclear. Her eyes blow wide, her back arches so sharply that only her shoulders and hips are touching the mattress, and the sound that comes out of her mouth is raw and loud enough to make Rei flinch at the foot of the bed. Her hands fly up and grab your wrist, not to pull your hand away, but to hold it there. Her fingers wrap around your forearm and grip so hard you can feel her nails leaving crescents in your skin.
"Oh my god," she breathes, and her pussy clenches around you so hard your vision blurs for a second. "Oh my fucking god."
"Holy shit," Rei whispers from the foot of the bed. She's sitting forward, her eyes huge, her lips parted, her thighs pressed together. "That's so hot. That's so incredibly hot. Fuck her, daddy. Fuck her harder." You maintain the hand on Yujin's throat and pound into her, your hips relentless, each stroke driving so deep you can feel her cervix, feel the full length of you burying inside her again and again. Yujin's legs tighten around you, her heels locked behind your back, and she's pulling you into her on every thrust, her body working against her brain's protestations.
She's fighting it. You can see the battle playing out in real time on her face, the way she bites her lip, the way she squeezes her eyes shut, the way she tries to slow her own breathing. She's fighting the orgasm with everything she has, refusing to let it happen, refusing to lose. Her jaw is clenched so tight the muscles in her neck cord beneath your palm. "I'm not going to cum," she says through gritted teeth, but it comes out like a plea, not a statement. "I'm not. I refuse. I don't lose. I never lose."
"Cum on his cock, Yujin." Rei has crawled closer now, kneeling beside the two of you, her face flushed, her eyes bright with a wildness that wasn't there an hour ago. "Just let it go. It's going to be the best orgasm of your life. I promise."
"No." Yujin shakes her head against the pillow, her hair sticking to her face. "No, no, no, I'm not going to..." You hit the spot again. Hard. And hold there, grinding the head of your cock against that swollen ridge inside her while your thumb presses just slightly firmer against the side of her throat. Yujin's mouth opens. Her eyes go wide. Her hands fly from your wrist to the sheets, fisting the fabric.
"Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck..." It pours out of her in a continuous, panicked stream, each repetition higher and more desperate than the last. Her hips are bucking up against you, meeting your thrusts with involuntary, frantic movements she's clearly not controlling anymore. The flush on her chest has spread to her face, her neck, her ears. "You're going to make me cum. Damn it. Damn it, you're going to make me cum."
"That's it," Rei breathes, leaning close to Yujin's ear, her hand finding Yujin's thigh and squeezing. "Cum for him. Make her cum, daddy. Fuck it out of her."
Yujin's body goes rigid beneath you. Every muscle locks. Her back arches, her thighs clamp around your waist like a vice, the orgasm hits her and her mouth opens in a scream that your hand on her throat compresses into a strangled, ragged moan, muffled but still audible, still raw, still the loudest thing in the room. You feel it around your cock, a violent, rhythmic clenching that squeezes you in waves, her entire body convulsing beneath you, her hips jerking against yours in uncontrollable spasms. Her eyes are squeezed shut and there are tears at the corners, not from pain, from intensity, from the sheer overwhelming force of what's ripping through her.
You release her throat.
The sound that erupts from Yujin is unholy. A full, unrestricted moan that tears itself from her chest and fills the room, followed immediately by a series of gasped, broken syllables that aren't really words anymore. Her hands fly to your arms, gripping your biceps, and her whole body starts shaking, genuine, full-body tremors that make the bed vibrate beneath you.
"You won." It comes out wrecked, barely intelligible. "Damn it. You won. Fuck. I can't take it anymore. Stop. I can't..."
But you don't stop. You keep the same pace, your cock driving into her still-spasming pussy, and the hypersensitivity hits her like a second wave. Her eyes snap open and they're unfocused, pupils blown, tears tracking down her temples into her hair. Her mouth moves but nothing coherent comes out for a few seconds, just gasps and whimpers and fragments of sounds.
"She can take it." Rei's kneeling beside Yujin with a grin on her face that borders on feral. "She's a slut. Keep going."
"No no no no, fuck, please." Yujin's head thrashes on the pillow, her nails dragging red lines down your arms. "Daddy, no. Please, daddy, stop. You're going to make me cum again if you keep going like this. I can't. My body can't. Please."
That's exactly what you want. You grab her thighs and push them wider, opening her up completely, and fuck into her with everything you have. Deep, hard, constant, targeting that same angle, that same spot, and Yujin's protests dissolve into a continuous, high-pitched moan that climbs in pitch with every thrust. Her hands grab at everything, your arms, the sheets, the pillow behind her head, the headboard. Her body is arching and writhing beneath you, completely out of her own control.
"Fuck, fuck, I'm cumming, oh god I'm cumming again, I can't stop it, it's happe—”
The second orgasm slams into her harder than the first. Yujin screams, a real scream, sharp and loud and broken, and her body bows off the mattress. You feel a sudden rush of warmth around your cock, slick and hot and forceful, and then you see it. She's squirting. A hard, pulsing spray that soaks your stomach, your thighs, the sheets beneath her. It just keeps coming, her pussy clenching and releasing in violent contractions around your cock, each one pushing out another warm jet.
Rei's eyes go enormous. For exactly one second, she stares. Then she moves.
Her hand shoots between Yujin's legs and two fingers find Yujin's clit, exposed and swollen and drenched, and she starts rubbing. Fast. Hard. Aggressive circles with her fingertips pressed flat against the sensitive nub, and the effect is immediate and devastating. Yujin's squirting intensifies, the spray arcing higher, soaking Rei's wrist and forearm, splashing against your abs. Yujin's screams have gone silent, her mouth open, her body locked in a sustained convulsion, only her heels and shoulders touching the bed.
Rei giggles, bright and delighted, watching the chaos Yujin is making with the same breathless fascination as someone mesmerized by a burst of fireworks. "Look at all of that. Look at her go. She's making such a mess." Her fingers don't stop, rubbing Yujin's clit with a relentless enthusiasm that borders on cruel, and every pass of her fingertips draws another gush from Yujin's trembling body. "Come on, Yujin. Give us more. I know you've got more."
Yujin's hand grabs Rei's wrist weakly, trying to push her away, but there's no strength behind it. Her body is spent, wrung out, every muscle exhausted from the sustained intensity of two consecutive orgasms. She's making sounds that aren't moans or screams but something in between, small, broken, hitching gasps, her chest heaving, her stomach flexing with each aftershock.
You pull out. Slow, careful. And as your cock slides free, one last jet of clear fluid pulses from Yujin's swollen, flushed pussy, splashing against your thigh before trailing down between her legs and pooling on the already ruined sheets. Rei finally pulls her hand away, her fingers glistening, and wipes them on the sheet next to Yujin's hip with a casual nonchalance that makes you shake your head.
Yujin lies there. Breathing. Trembling. Her legs are still spread, too heavy to move, and her arms are limp at her sides. Her hair is a dark, tangled mess across the pillow. Her skin is flushed from her face to her navel, blotchy and pink and damp with sweat. Her eyes are closed and her lips are parted and her chest rises and falls in deep, unsteady rhythms that gradually, slowly, begin to even out.
You lean down and press your lips to her cheek. Soft. Unhurried. You can taste the salt of her sweat on her skin. "Looks like I won."
Yujin's arms come up and wrap around your neck. She pulls you down against her, tight, her face burying into the crook of your shoulder. She's holding you like someone who just survived something, her fingers gripping the back of your neck, her body still trembling in small aftershocks against yours. The embrace is fierce and needy and completely at odds with everything she's projected since she walked out of that elevator. You let her hold on. You settle your weight carefully, not crushing her, and let her take what she needs.
Rei tilts her head, watching the two of you with a soft, teasing smile. "Look at that. Daddy softened up the bratty girl."
"Shut up," Yujin mumbles into your shoulder, but there's no harshness in it. There's barely any volume.
You pull away slightly, just enough to meet her gaze. Her eyes are open now, softer, different - no more sharpness. Just a stunned, wide look, like she’s still trying to piece together what just happened. Her lips are swollen and her mascara has smudged slightly at the corners of her eyes and she looks completely, thoroughly, beautifully wrecked.
She grabs the back of your neck with one hand and pulls you down into a kiss. Not teasing, not competitive, not calculated. Hard. Deep. Her mouth opens against yours and she kisses you with a hunger that tastes like surrender, her tongue pressing against yours, her teeth catching your lower lip. Her other hand comes up to cup your jaw, holding you there, and when the kiss finally breaks she doesn't let you pull away. She keeps your face close, her forehead against yours, and brushes her nose against yours. Once. Twice. An almost unbearably tender gesture from someone who, five minutes ago, was calling you every name in the book.
A small, mischievous smile curls the corner of her mouth. Her thumb traces your jawline. "That was the best orgasm of my life," she murmurs, her breath warm against your lips. "Motherfucker. Congratulations."
Yujin turns her head on the pillow and looks at Rei, who's sprawled out on her stomach beside you both, chin resting on her folded arms, looking entirely too pleased with herself. Yujin narrows her eyes. "You were way too harsh on me back there. The little bird has claws."
Rei shrugs one shoulder, not even a little apologetic. "It was really fun. And you had it coming."
"I had it coming?"
"You called me a slut like four times today."
"That's because you are one. But fine." Yujin's mouth twitches. Something almost warm passes through her expression. "I'm proud of you. You were vicious. I respect vicious."
"Thank you. I learned from the best."
"Damn right you did."
You shift onto your side, propping yourself up on one elbow. "So. I won."
Yujin groans and presses the pillow over her face. Her response comes out muffled through Egyptian cotton. "Yes. You won."
"Which means you owe me a date. Both of you."
She pulls the pillow down just enough to glare at you with one eye. "You're going to complicate my life so badly."
"That seems fair. You two showed up at my apartment unannounced, broke up with me on behalf of my fake girlfriend, threatened me with a lawsuit, and then fucked me. I think one dinner is a pretty mild complication by comparison."
Yujin lets the pillow drop and stares at the ceiling. She exhales slowly, her chest still rising and falling a little faster than normal, the flush on her skin only now beginning to fade. "If Wonyoung finds out, Rei and I are done. Not just fired. Done. She's not the forgive-and-forget type."
"She really isn't," Rei agrees, but her tone is remarkably casual for someone discussing career annihilation. She traces a pattern on the sheet with her fingertip.
"I know she isn't," you say. "Wonyoung's petty. Always has been. She wouldn't care that she dumped me. She'd care that you two are seeing me, because in her head, everything that was hers stays hers. Even the stuff she threw away."
Yujin looks over at you, a subtle flash of surprise in her eyes, as though hearing her own thoughts echoed back in a way she didn’t expect. "That's... exactly right, actually. She'd do so much worse than fire us."
"I know. But she's not going to find out anytime soon. And if she does, I'll handle it. That's my problem, not yours." You hold her gaze. "I've dealt with petty rich people my entire life. I come from a family of them. I know how the game works."
Yujin chews the inside of her cheek, considering. She turns to Rei. "What do you think?"
"Yes!" Rei says instantly.
"Girl, I hadn't even finished the question."
"You were going to ask if we should go on the date. The answer is yes. I don't need to think about it."
Yujin squints at her. "Fifteen minutes ago you were a nervous intern who couldn't open the right briefcase. Now you're making life-altering decisions in half a second?"
"I've had a productive afternoon." Rei rolls onto her side to face both of you, tucking one arm under her head. "I thought I admired Wonyoung. Before I started working with her, I really did. She was this incredible, untouchable person and I wanted to be around that." She pauses, picking at a loose thread on the pillowcase. "Then I actually started working with her, and I saw how she treats people behind closed doors. The way she talks about them. The way she throws them away when they stop being useful." Her eyes drift to yours briefly. "My admiration kind of eroded after that."
The room sits with that for a second. Nobody fills the silence.
"Okay." Yujin pushes herself up on her elbows. "One date. Just one. To see how it goes." She points at you with a finger that still isn't entirely steady. "Don't get your hopes up. I just need to add some variety to my life. Everything's been work, Wonyoung, work, Wonyoung, repeat. A girl needs some seasoning."
"Noted. No hopes. Very low expectations."
"Extremely low. Rock bottom. Subterranean."
"Got it."
Yujin shifts her weight and her hand drifts down between you. Her fingers find your cock, still hard, still flushed and thick against your stomach, and she wraps around it loosely. She gives it a slow, lazy stroke, and then stops. She looks down at it. She looks up at you. "You didn't cum."
"Nope."
"How." It's not a question. It's an accusation. She strokes you again, slow, her thumb circling the head, and watches your cock twitch against her palm. "No guy has ever lasted through me riding them. I've broken every man I've been with. Every single one. And you just... sat there and flipped me over and kept going."
"I've always had good stamina." You fold your arms behind your head, casual, even though her hand on your cock is making it hard to project total nonchalance. "I can get pretty competitive sometimes. Especially when someone threatens to peg me."
Yujin's teeth catch her lower lip. She's trying not to smile and failing at it, a slow, reluctant grin spreading across her face that she absolutely cannot contain. Her hand keeps stroking you, absentminded, her fingers exploring your length and girth like she's cataloguing it for future reference. "I like that," she admits. "I like a guy who doesn't fold."
Rei yawns and stretches, her back arching, her body unfurling against the sheets. The movement is lazy but it draws your attention to every curve, every line, the fullness of her thighs, the soft weight of her breasts shifting as she moves. She catches you looking and doesn't shy away from it this time. "Anyway," Rei says, rolling her neck. "This is all very sweet, but I'm still really horny."
Yujin releases your cock and rolls her eyes so hard her whole head moves. "She's insatiable. One orgasm and she turns into a monster."
"Your fault. You brought me here."
"Fine. Since you're so worked up, go ahead and let him fuck your ass then."
Rei pauses. Looks at you. Looks at Yujin. takes one brief, unashamed look down and shrugs. "Okay."
You sit up slightly. "Hold on. I thought anal was too kinky and filthy. Your exact words."
"I changed my mind." Rei says this with the serene conviction of someone announcing they've decided to try a new restaurant. "A girl can change her mind."
Yujin barks out a laugh. "Please. She's always liked anal. The whole innocent act was bullshit. I knew it the second she said it." She gestures at Rei like a prosecutor presenting evidence. "Look at her. That angelic face. Those big brown eyes. That thick ass." She shakes her head. "Anyone with a functioning brain can see that girl loves a cock in her ass. It's practically tattooed on her forehead."
Rei blinks, and for the first time, she looks genuinely caught off guard. "Is it that obvious? Can people actually tell?"
"Rei. Babe. Everyone who has ever looked at you knows immediately."
"Everyone?"
"It's the combination. The sweet princess face and the body that won't quit. It broadcasts a very specific frequency." Yujin swings her legs off the bed and stands, still naked, still glistening faintly with sweat. "I'm getting the lube from the briefcase. Don't start without me."
She pads out of the bedroom on bare feet, moving with the easy confidence of someone who's entirely comfortable being naked in a stranger's penthouse. The view from behind is excellent. Her ass, round, full, juicy and still faintly pink where the sheets creased against her skin, disappears around the corner.
The second Yujin is out of earshot, Rei scoots closer to you. She puts a hand on your chest and leans in, her lips near your ear, she murmurs: "She called you daddy."
You look at her. "I caught that."
"While you were fucking her. Multiple times." Rei pulls back and grins at you, her nose scrunching. "She was begging. Actual begging. 'Daddy please, daddy no, daddy stop.' She's going to pretend it didn't happen."
"Probably."
"She likes to act all tough and unbothered, like nothing gets to her. But she loves being put in her place. She needs it." Rei taps your chest once with her index finger. "She's been waiting for a guy who wouldn't buckle. Every other guy she's been with folded the second she started pushing. You pushed back harder. That broke her brain."
"You figured all that out in one afternoon?"
"I'm observant." Rei smiles, and there's nothing shy about it anymore. "Also, she talks in her sleep during naps at the office. Very revealing stuff."
You hear Yujin's footsteps coming back down the hall. Rei immediately scoots to a respectable distance and adopts an expression of pure, guileless innocence. The transformation is so seamless it's almost frightening. Yujin rounds the corner holding a bottle of high-end lubricant. She tosses it onto the bed, where it bounces once and lands between Rei's knees. Her gaze flicks between the two of you, eyes narrowing.
"You were talking about me."
"We absolutely were not," Rei says, and she sounds so sincere that even you almost believe her.
Yujin stares at her for two full seconds, then decides she doesn't care enough to pursue it. She climbs back onto the bed and grabs Rei's shoulder, spinning her around. "All fours, little bird. Show's about to start."
Rei catches your eye one more time as she moves into position, and the look she gives you is quick and private and full of mischief. Then she turns, plants her hands on the mattress, and arches her back. Yujin pops the cap on the lube with her thumb. She squeezes a generous amount directly onto Rei's ass, a thick, clear line that drips between her cheeks, and then another dollop onto her own palm. She rubs her hands together, warming it up.
"This one heats up," Yujin says, spreading the lube across Rei's skin with slow strokes. Her fingers glide over the curve of Rei's ass, working the slick between her cheeks, coating everything thoroughly. "High-end stuff. Wonyoung's company card paid for it, so you know it's premium."
Rei shivers. Her back dips and her fingers curl into the sheets. "That feels really good. The warming thing is nice."
"Of course it does. You love being pampered." Yujin's thumb traces a slow circle around Rei's tight hole, spreading the lube, not pushing in yet. Just getting her used to the contact. "And your absolute favorite pampering is a thick cock in your ass. Isn't that right?"
Rei presses her face into the mattress and says nothing, which is an answer in itself. You lean back against the headboard, watching Yujin work. Her fingers are careful, attentive, making sure every inch is slick and warm. It's the kind of consideration that comes from actually giving a shit about someone, not from following a job description. "You don't seem like Wonyoung's biggest fan," you say.
Yujin doesn't look up from what she's doing. "Wonyoung is my boss. I do what she tells me to do. End of story."
"I don't know. Seems like there's more to it."
Her fingers pause on Rei's skin for just a fraction of a second. "Who are you, Sherlock Holmes?" She resumes, her thumb pressing gently against Rei's rim, applying just enough pressure to tease without entering. "Put the magnifying glass away."
"Just making conversation."
Yujin stays quiet for a few seconds. The only sounds are Rei's soft breathing and the wet, slick noise of lube being worked into skin. Then, without prompting, Yujin says, "We used to be closer. Me and Wonyoung. It wasn't always a boss-and-employee thing. There was more to it than that."
You wait. Don't push.
"If you're going to ask what happened, don't bother. Better question is what didn't happen." She squeezes more lube onto her fingers and slides one fingertip just barely inside Rei, who exhales slowly and pushes back against the intrusion. "I don't like talking about it. It's boring and depressing and I've spent enough energy on that woman for one lifetime."
The subject closes itself. You let it go. Yujin works her finger deeper into Rei with a patience that borders on surgical, rotating slowly, letting her adjust, and Rei's breathing gradually shifts from tense to steady to something that sounds a lot like enjoyment. She's rocking her hips back in small, barely-there movements, instinctive, chasing the feeling.
After a moment, Yujin speaks again. Quieter this time, her eyes still on her own hand. "Did you mean what you said earlier?"
"About what?"
"That I'm prettier than Wonyoung."
There it is. Past all the attitude, the sarcasm, the Theatrical indifference - this. A question she couldn't bury, surfacing again the moment she convinced herself enough time had gone by to make it seem offhand. "Yeah. I meant it."
"Why, though?" She adds a second finger alongside the first, scissoring gently, stretching Rei open. Rei whimpers into the mattress, her toes curling. "Wonyoung is one of the most beautiful women on the planet. That's not even an opinion. There are rankings."
“Rankings are bullshit.” You keep your eyes on her. “There’s something in your eyes, Yujin. The way you look at people, the way you talk, even when you’re being a pain in the ass. There’s a spark there. You feel… I don't know, alive? Present?” You pause, choosing your words. “Wonyoung’s stunning, yeah, but she’s like a photograph. Perfect, but still. You’re not. You’re always moving. That’s why it’s so hard to look away from you.”
Yujin's hand goes still inside Rei. For a couple of seconds she just stares at you, and something passes across her face that she doesn't manage to hide in time. Her throat bobs with a swallow. Then she blinks, resets, and the classic Yujin is back, smooth as ever. "Jesus Christ." She looks away, her mouth twitching. "You could've just said I'm hotter than her. You didn't need to write a whole TED Talk about my eyes."
"That too. You're way hotter than her."
"Obviously." She pulls her fingers out of Rei and wipes them on the sheet. The flush on her cheeks has nothing to do with exertion. She slaps Rei's ass with a crisp, ringing smack that makes Rei yelp. "She's ready. All warmed up and stretched. Now all that's missing is your dick."
Yujin turns to you, grabs your cock, and squeezes the bottle directly onto the shaft. The lube is warm, almost hot, and it runs down your length in thick rivulets. She strokes you with both hands, one twisting at the base while the other slides up and over the head, spreading the slickness everywhere, making sure every inch is coated. "You're not small," she says, matter-of-fact, her fist gliding up your lubed shaft. "So go slow or you'll break her."
"I'm right here," Rei says from all fours, looking back over her shoulder. "And I'm not fragile."
"Your ass is about to have a very different opinion on that."
Yujin gives your cock one final stroke, root to tip, and releases it. She wipes her hands on the sheets, already ruined beyond salvation, and scoots to the side, settling into a cross-legged position near the pillows with a clear sightline to the action. Supervising.
You move behind Rei. She's on her hands and knees, her back arched, her ass pushed up and out toward you. The lube is everywhere, glossy and warm, catching the light from the windows. Her hole is slick and relaxed from Yujin's prep work, pink and tight and glistening. You run one hand up the back of her thigh, over the swell of her ass, and she pushes back against your touch, eager.
You grip the base of your cock and press the head against her. The contact alone makes her tense, a reflexive clench that tightens everything, and you hold still. Just the tip against her, not pushing, letting the warmth of the lube and the pressure do the work.
"I'm going to start. Tell me if you need me to stop."
Rei nods. Her fingers are bunched in the sheets, her head hanging between her shoulders. "Go ahead."
You push forward. Gentle. Steady. The head of your cock presses against her ring and meets resistance, firm and tight, her body instinctively clenching against the intrusion. You hold the pressure, not forcing, just a constant forward push, and after a few seconds you feel her start to relax. The muscle yields, slowly, incrementally, and the head slips inside.
Rei sucks in a sharp breath through her teeth. Her back goes rigid and her knuckles go white in the sheets. She's impossibly tight around you, her ass gripping the head of your cock with a pressure that's almost painful, hot and slick from the lube but so constricting it takes genuine effort not to just shove forward.
"Breathe," Yujin says from her perch near the pillows. She's watching with her head tilted, clinical and attentive. "Don't tense up. Push out, not in. Let him in."
Rei exhales slowly. You feel the shift, a conscious relaxation that eases the grip around you just enough to move. You push another inch inside her and Rei's mouth falls open, a long, shaky exhale escaping her.
"How's it feel?" Yujin asks.
"Big," Rei manages. "Really, really big."
"I told you." Yujin looks at you. "Slower."
You give Rei a moment. Your hands rest on her hips, thumbs tracing small circles on her skin, grounding her. When you feel her body soften again, you push deeper. Another inch. The lube does its job, the warming sensation easing the slide, and Rei groans low in her throat. It's a sound of fullness, of being stretched in a way that walks the tightrope between too much and exactly enough.
Another inch. You're halfway in now, and the tightness is unreal. Nothing like her pussy. This is a different kind of grip entirely, relentless and uniform, squeezing every millimeter of your cock with equal, crushing pressure. The heat is staggering. Rei's thighs are quivering, her breathing short and fast, and every tiny movement you make sends a visible tremor through her body.
"More," Rei whispers. "Keep going." You push deeper. So slow it's almost painful for you, the urge to thrust fighting against every ounce of restraint you have. The lube squelches obscenely as you slide further in, and Rei lets out a broken, stuttering moan that builds in volume the deeper you go. Her ass is swallowing you inch by inch, her body opening for you, and the visual alone, your thick, glistening cock disappearing into her tight little hole, her round ass pressed against your hips, is enough to make your pulse hammer in your ears.
"Almost there," Yujin narrates, leaning to the side to get a better angle. "About two inches left. She's taking it like a champ."
"I can feel every single inch of him," Rei says, and her tone is dazed, almost drunk. "Every ridge. Everything."
You push the last two inches in slowly, steadily, until your hips press flush against her ass. All of you. Every inch buried inside her. Rei's body shudders beneath you and she lets out a sound that's half gasp, half sob, her face dropping to the mattress, her fingers twisted in the sheets so hard the fitted corner pops off.
"There you go," Yujin says. "All of it. How do you feel?"
Rei doesn't answer right away. She's breathing in short, shallow bursts, her body adjusting to the fullness, the stretch, the sheer overwhelming presence of your cock lodged deep in her ass. You hold completely still, giving her time, and you can feel her pulse throbbing around you, fast and heavy.
Then she lifts her head. Turns to look at you over her shoulder and says: "I'm ready, daddy." Her hips push back against you, taking you deeper, and the moan that leaves her mouth is filthy and absolutely nothing like the girl who asked for a Coke two hours ago. "Please fuck your good girl's ass."
You pull back. Feel every inch of her gripping you as you slide out until just the head remains inside, her rim stretched tight around the thickest part of you. Then you push forward again, steady, controlled, and Rei's whole body sinks into the mattress as you fill her. Her fingers claw the sheets and a long, trembling moan pours out of her, muffled against the pillow, a sound that starts in the gut and doesn't stop until there's no air left.
She's perfect on all fours. Back arched deep, ass pushed up and round and full, her dark hair spilling over her shoulders and sticking to the sweat on her skin. Every slow thrust makes her body rock forward, her breasts swaying beneath her, her thighs trembling with the effort of holding position. The lube has made everything slick and warm and the friction is sinful, that impossible tightness squeezing you on every stroke, hot and constant and so good your jaw aches from clenching it. "Deeper," Rei breathes. Her hips push back against you, greedy, impatient. "Go deeper. I want all of it."
You give her all of it. Bottom out with a slow grind that makes her toes curl and her spine flex. She lets out a choked, guttural sound and her arms give out, her chest dropping to the mattress, face turned sideways, mouth open. "Fuck, your cock is so good in my ass," she moans, pushing back onto you, taking you deeper even though there's nowhere deeper to go. "It's so thick. I can feel you stretching me open. Every single inch."
Yujin is sitting cross-legged beside the two of you, close enough to touch, her chin propped on her fist. She's watching Rei with an expression that's somewhere between a proud older sister and a director reviewing her best actress's career-defining performance. Her eyes are bright, engaged, drinking in every moan and tremble with obvious relish.
"Look at you, little bird." Yujin reaches over and traces a single finger down Rei's spine, from the nape of her neck to the small of her back, and Rei arches into the touch. "All that 'it's too kinky and filthy' bullshit. Too kinky for her. Can't do anal. Absolutely not." She laughs. "And now you've got a fat cock balls deep in your ass and you're begging for more. You're a natural."
"I am," Rei pants, and there's zero irony in it. "I'm a natural. I love it. I love his cock in my ass."
"Tell him that. Don't tell me. Look at him and tell him how much you love it."
Rei cranes her neck to look back at you over her shoulder. Her lips are swollen, parted and there's a strand of saliva connecting her lower lip to the pillow. She looks absolutely ruined. "I love your cock in my ass, daddy." She pushes back against you again, a slow, rolling grind that takes you deeper. "Please don't stop. Please keep fucking me."
You grip her hips tighter and pick up the pace. Not fast yet, but firmer, more rhythmic, each thrust landing with a slap of skin that punctuates the wet, obscene sounds between you. Rei drops her head and moans into the mattress, long and loud and completely uninhibited, and her hands slide forward on the sheets, reaching for something to hold onto, finding nothing, her fingers just clawing at empty fabric. "Harder," she begs. "I can take it. I promise I can take it."
You give her harder. The pace builds gradually, your hips snapping forward with more force, more speed, and Rei starts making sounds you didn't know she was capable of. Deep, throaty moans that break into whimpers at the peak of each thrust, her body jolting forward with every impact, her ass rippling where your hips collide with it. The lube is doing its job beautifully, everything warm and slick, and the tightness of her ass around your cock is relentless, gripping you from every angle, so snug it's almost unbearable.
"Oh my god," Rei gasps, her fingers twisted in the sheets, pulling them off the corner of the mattress. "Oh my god, oh my god, I can't believe Wonyoung never tried this. She had this the whole time. She had this cock and she never even let you fuck her. She never even let you inside her."
"Wonyoung is a fucking loser," Yujin says, casual and absolute. She shifts closer to Rei, settling onto her knees beside her. "The biggest loser in this whole city. She had a man who could make two girls fall apart in one afternoon and she used him for photo ops."
Yujin brings her hand down on Rei's right ass cheek with a clean, sharp smack that echoes through the bedroom. Rei's whole body clenches, her ass squeezing your cock so hard you have to grit your teeth, and the moan she lets out is wild and broken and grateful.
"Say it," Yujin tells her. She leans close to Rei's ear, her hand resting on the reddening handprint she just left. "Say Wonyoung is a loser. A stupid rich girl playing pretend. Say it, little bird." Another smack, harder than the first. Rei's back arches violently and her hips jerk back onto your cock, taking you deep, her body spasming around you.
"Wonyoung is a loser," Rei moans, her face pressed into the sheets, drool pooling on the cotton. "She's a stupid rich girl who throws people away. She doesn't deserve him. She never deserved him."
Yujin's hand smooths over the red mark on Rei's skin, soothing, possessive. "Good girl. That's my girl." Her fingers trail down between Rei's cheeks, brushing the stretched rim where your cock is splitting her open, feeling the slick junction of the two of you. Rei whimpers at the added touch, pushing back against both of you. "Now say you're hotter than her. Say you're better. Say Wonyoung could never give a blowjob like you gave today. That prissy bitch wouldn't even know where to start."
You thrust harder into Rei, punching deep, and the sound that rips out of her is raw and savage and nothing a polite girl would ever produce.
"I'm hotter than Wonyoung!" Rei practically shouts it into the mattress, her hips bucking back against you. "I'm so much fucking hotter than her. She could never suck a dick like I do. She could never take a cock in her ass like I do. She'd tap out in thirty seconds. She doesn't have the range." Her head lifts, hair falling in sweaty tangles around her face, and her eyes are wild. "And I give better head. Way better. She probably just lies there like a starfish. I bet she's never even made a guy cum with her mouth. I could make him cum three times before she even figured out what to do with her tongue."
Yujin's face lights up with pure, unadulterated glee. She grabs Rei's chin and angles her face upward, looking into those blown-out, frenzied brown eyes. "That's my fucking girl. Don't you dare stop. You hear me?" She slaps Rei's ass again, a stinging crack that makes Rei's whole body seize. "Fuck that cock. I want to see your ass moving. Show daddy what you can do."
Rei plants her palms on the mattress and starts rocking back onto you. Hard. Aggressive. Her hips snap backward, her ass slamming against your pelvis with a force that catches you off guard, impaling herself on your cock with a desperate, single-minded hunger. She's not just taking it anymore. She's fucking herself on you, driving back into every thrust you give, meeting you in the middle, and the combined force of both of you sends shockwaves through her entire body. Her ass bounces against your hips, round and full and glistening with sweat and lube, and the wet, filthy slap of impact fills the room in a constant, accelerating rhythm.
"That's it," Yujin breathes, her eyes locked on where your cock is disappearing into Rei's ass over and over. "That's fucking it. Look at her go. She's a goddamn machine."
"Don't stop, daddy," Rei pants, slamming herself back onto you. "Fuck my ass. Use me. Use my tight little ass. It's yours. Everything is yours." You grab her hips and start meeting her pace with your own, thrusting forward hard every time she pushes back, doubling the impact. The collision of your bodies is brutal, wet, loud and Rei screams into the mattress, a sustained, guttural wail that breaks into stuttered gasps with each thrust. Her ass is clenching around you in frantic, involuntary pulses, so tight you can barely pull out before slamming back in.
"Harder," Yujin commands, and she's talking to both of you. Her hand comes down on Rei's ass again, a rapid series of slaps, one two three, each one drawing a sharp cry from Rei. "I want her stupid. I want her drooling. Fuck her brains out."
You grab a fistful of Rei's hair and pull her head up off the mattress, and what you see confirms that Yujin's already gotten her wish. Rei's face is a wreck. Her mascara has smeared into dark streaks beneath her eyes. Saliva trails from her lower lip to the pillow in a thin, glistening string. Her jaw is hanging open, slack, her tongue half out, her eyes rolling and unfocused. She's trying to say something but the only thing coming out is garbled, fragmented nonsense punctuated by moans that sound barely human.
"More," she manages, and even that single syllable comes out slurred and broken. "More more more more more."
"She's gone," Yujin says, and there's a kind of awe in her expression. "Her brain is completely fried. Look at her. She's drooling on your thousand-dollar pillowcase." She cups Rei's face in both hands, tilting it toward her, examining the damage with a grin that's equal parts cruel and affectionate. "Hey. Rei. What's your name? What year is it? How many fingers am I holding up?"
Rei blinks at her, unfocused. A string of drool stretches from her lip. "Fuck me," she whispers. "Just keep fucking me."
"That's not an answer to any of my questions, but I respect the commitment."
You increase the pressure. Each thrust is deep and hard and unrelenting, your cock driving into her ass with a force that pushes her entire body forward on the mattress, her knees sliding on the sweat-damp sheets. You pull her hips back onto you every time she slides away, keeping her pinned, keeping her full, and Rei has stopped trying to form coherent thoughts entirely. She's just noise now, raw and animal, her body shaking and clenching and trembling beneath you. You can feel it building in her. The way her muscles are tightening, the way her thighs are quaking uncontrollably, the way her ass is gripping you in rhythmic, desperate spasms that are getting shorter and faster and more intense. She's close. Her whole body is a coiled spring about to snap, every nerve ending firing, every muscle tensed to the breaking point.
Her fingers are white-knuckled in the sheets, her toes curled, her back locked in a rigid arch that presses her ass up against you as hard as her body can manage. The moans have gone high and thin and continuous, a keening sound that wavers with each thrust, building and building toward something massive. Yujin sees it too. She's leaning close, one hand still on Rei's face, the other resting on the small of Rei's back, feeling the tremors running through her. Her own breathing has quickened, her nipples hard, her thighs pressed together. She strokes Rei's hair, almost tender, and watches her unravel with hungry, fascinated eyes.
"She's about to blow," Yujin murmurs, looking up at you over Rei's quaking body. "Whatever you're doing, don't you dare stop."
Your hips keep their rhythm, steady and deep, your cock driving into Rei's ass with a force that shakes her entire body. Your balls swing forward with every thrust, slapping against her soaked pussy. Rei's face is buried in the mattress, her fingers twisted in the ruined sheets, her entire body trembling with a vibration that's getting worse, tighter, closer.
"I'm gonna cum," Rei chokes out, and her back arches so deep her stomach nearly touches the bed. "Oh fuck, I'm gonna cum like this. From my ass. I'm gonna cum from your cock in my ass, daddy."
"Cum for daddy." You grip her hips and drive deep, holding there, grinding against that spot deep inside her that makes her whole body clench and spasm. "Let go. Give it to me."
Yujin leans in close to Rei's face, her hand on the back of Rei's neck, fingers threaded through damp, tangled hair. "He said cum, little bird. You heard him. You're his good girl. You deserve this." She strokes Rei's cheek with her thumb, almost maternal, while her other hand reaches under Rei and finds her clit, swollen and slick, and presses down. "Cum for your daddy. He earned it. You earned it."
You pull back and slam forward, burying yourself to the hilt, and Rei's scream is instant and raw. You don't stop. You keep that depth, that angle, fucking into her with short, punishing strokes that never let the pressure drop, your balls slapping against her drenched pussy with every impact. Rei's thighs are shaking so violently her knees are sliding apart on the sheets, and Yujin's fingers on her clit are relentless, rubbing in tight, fast circles that make Rei's whole body jolt and twitch.
"I can't, I can't, I can't," Rei babbles, but her hips are pushing back against you harder than ever, her body chasing what her mouth is trying to deny. "It's too much, it's too much, I'm gonna—"
The orgasm tears through her hard. You feel it before you hear it, her ass clamping down on your cock with a crushing, rhythmic pressure that squeezes you in violent waves. Then the sound hits, a scream that starts in her chest and rips its way out of her throat, high and sharp and sustained, her entire body locking up beneath you.
Her back goes rigid, her toes curl so hard her feet cramp. She convulses against you, her hips bucking in frantic, involuntary jerks, and you feel a rush of wetness flood against your balls as her pussy clenches in sympathy, her whole body detonating at once.
"Yeah, cum," Yujin breathes, her fingers still working Rei's clit through the orgasm, extending it, dragging it out. "Cum like the little slut you are. That's it. All of it. Every fucking drop."
Rei's scream breaks into a series of sobbing, gasping moans, each one weaker than the last, her body shuddering through wave after wave of contractions that you can feel rippling along every inch of your cock. Her arms collapse and she goes flat against the mattress, twitching, her fingers opening and closing on nothing.
You slow down. Pull back, inch by inch, letting her feel every ridge of you as you slide out. Her swollen rim clings to you, stretched and pink and glistening, and when the head finally slips free, Rei's body sags into the mattress with a full-body shudder that runs from her shoulders to her toes.
Rei rolls over onto her back, and the sight of her is extraordinary. Her face is flushed scarlet, her makeup destroyed, mascara streaked in dark smears beneath both eyes. There's drool on her chin, trailing down her neck, and her lips are swollen and parted and curved into the stupidest, most blissed-out smile you have ever seen on a human being.
"This is the best day of my life," she mumbles. "Nothing will ever top this. I peaked. It's all downhill from here."
Yujin leans over her friend's wrecked face and licks a stripe up her chin, collecting the drool on her tongue and swallowing it without a shred of hesitation. Then she cups Rei's face in both hands and peppers her with quick, firm kisses, lips pressing against her cheeks, her forehead, the bridge of her nose, the corner of her mouth.
"You were incredible, babe,” Yujin says between pecks, and there's no sarcasm in it. None. Just genuine, unfiltered pride. "That was beautiful, Rei. You took it so well. You're amazing." Another kiss, on the lips this time, lingering. "My little bird."
You lean down and brush a strand of sweat-damp hair off her forehead. "Don't thank me. That was all you. You were amazing."
Rei hums contentedly, her eyes drifting shut for a moment, basking. Yujin's gaze drops to your cock. Still hard. Still slick and flushed and thick, jutting up from your hips with an insistence that borders on unreasonable. She stares at it. "You still haven't cum."
"Nope."
"How is that physically possible? You just fucked her ass for..." She trails off, trying to calculate the timeline, and gives up. "A long time. You fucked both of us. Multiple orgasms. Squirting. Anal. And you're still hard."
"Girls cum first. That's always been my rule. I like making sure they're taken care of before I worry about myself."
Yujin's lips part slightly. "That's... actually really hot. You keep surprising me. I came here today expecting some spoiled rich kid who couldn't find the clit with a map and a flashlight. You're nothing like what I expected."
"Good surprises?" You ask.
"Really good surprises. Now wait here, both of you. Don't move."
Yujin climbs off the bed and walks out of the bedroom. You watch her lean figure disappear around the corner with her stride purposeful and quick.
Rei lifts her head. "Where's she going?"
No answer. Just the sound of the briefcase clicking open in the living room. Rei lets her head fall back against the mattress and turns to look at you. That loopy grin is still plastered across her ruined face. "I'm excited for the date," she says softly. "I already know what I'm going to wear. I have this dress that I bought months ago and never had a reason to put on."
"Yeah?"
"It's dark green. It makes my eyes look good." She rolls onto her side, facing you, tucking her hands under her cheek. "Yujin's going to pretend she doesn't care. She's probably going to complain the whole time about how we're being reckless and how it's a terrible idea. But she's excited too."
"You think so?"
"I know so. The way she looks at you." Rei pauses, searching for the right way to say it. "She found somebody who can actually keep up with her. Someone she can't bulldoze. She's been running over every guy she's ever been with, and she's bored of it. You pushed back. You didn't fold." She smiles. "She'll never tell you this, by the way. If you mention I said any of it, I'll deny everything."
Footsteps in the hallway. Yujin rounds the corner and walks back into the bedroom, and between her legs, strapped snug against her hips with black leather harnesses, is a silicone cock. It's not comically large but it's not modest either, a smooth, dark-colored shaft that bobs slightly with each confident step she takes.
Rei pushes herself up on her elbows. Her eyes go wide. "Oh. Holy shit."
Yujin stands at the foot of the bed, hands on her hips, looking like a general surveying a battlefield. "Time for the fatality." She slaps the strap-on once, letting it bounce. "Today is a day you are never going to forget, little bird."
"It's already extremely memorable, Yujin. I've already had two orgasms."
"This is just to make absolutely sure." Yujin climbs onto the bed, the strap-on jutting forward, and kneels behind where Rei is lying. "You need to cum with two dicks in your holes. Full completion. Hundred percent achievement unlocked."
Rei sits up, her expression oscillating between terror and excitement with a healthy dose of horny delirium mixed in. "You're going to kill me."
"You're going to die happy. And when it's all over, you can have an ice-cold Coke. Straight from the fridge. That's your reward."
Rei looks at Yujin. Then at you. Then at the strap-on. Then at your cock. She chews her lower lip, and something sparks behind those big brown eyes, something calculating and mischievous that looks remarkably like a trait she picked up from Yujin. "Fine," she says. "I'll do it."
Yujin nods, satisfied. "Good girl."
"But." Rei holds up one finger. "Only if we spend the night here."
"You've lost your mind," Yujin says flatly.
"We stay here tonight. Both of us. We leave tomorrow morning." Rei crosses her arms over her bare chest, and despite the fact that she's naked and covered in sweat and her makeup looks like a Rorschach test, she projects a surprising amount of authority. "Those are my terms."
"That's insane. We need to go back. We have schedules. We have obligations. Wonyoung's expecting a debrief."
"Wonyoung can wait until tomorrow. The debrief isn't going anywhere."
"I can make dinner for everyone," you offer. "I'm a good cook."
Yujin's head swivels toward you. "Of course you're loving this idea."
"I make a really good pasta. From scratch."
"Nobody asked about your fucking pasta!" Yujin exclaims.
Rei tilts her head at Yujin. "You want to stay. I can see it on your face."
"You can't see anything on my face."
"Your left eye twitches when you want to say yes but your pride won't let you. It's twitching right now."
Yujin slaps a hand over her left eye. Holds it there for a second. Drops it. Takes a breath that contains the weight of every professional boundary she's crossed today, which is all of them.
"Okay! Fuck it!" She throws both hands up. "The plan's already gone to hell. Everything's gone completely off the rails. We've violated about thirty company policies. Who cares anymore." She points at Rei. "Fine. We sleep here tonight. But I am going to make you regret this idea later. That's a promise." Rei beams. "Wipe that grin off your face and get on top of him."
Rei climbs over you and settles on your hips, straddling you. She looks back over her shoulder at Yujin, who's kneeling behind her, adjusting the straps on the harness. That victorious, shit-eating smile is still spread across Rei's face like she just won the lottery and the Nobel Prize on the same day.
Yujin meets her eyes and smiles back. It's not a warm smile. "I'm going to fuck that grin right off your face tonight, little bird. Enjoy it while it lasts."
You reach down and take your cock in hand, lining the head up with Rei's pussy. She's still soaked, swollen and sensitive, and when the tip presses against her entrance she shudders visibly, her thighs clenching around your hips. Behind her, Yujin squeezes a fresh line of lube along the strap-on and presses it against Rei's ass, the tip nudging her already stretched, tender hole.
"Ready?" Yujin asks, one hand on Rei's hip, the other guiding the silicone cock. Rei nods. Her hands are flat on your chest, her fingers spread, steadying herself. She takes a breath.
You push up. Yujin pushes forward. Simultaneously. Rei's mouth falls open but nothing comes out. Her eyes roll back, the brown disappearing behind her lids, and her entire body goes taut, every muscle locking as both holes are filled at once. Your cock sinks into her pussy, hot and tight and clenching, and you can feel the strap-on through the thin wall separating her holes, the hard ridge of silicone pressing against your shaft through her body. The fullness must be staggering. Rei's fingers curl against your chest, her nails biting into your skin, and a thin, reedy whine escapes her throat.
Yujin pushes deeper, slow and steady, one hand on the small of Rei's back. "Breathe, little bird. Open up for us."
You sink in further. So does Yujin. Inch by inch, together, filling Rei from both sides until your hips are flush against her ass and Yujin's thighs are pressed against the back of hers. Both of you completely inside her. The tightness is absurd, her pussy squeezed even tighter by the presence of the strap-on in her ass, gripping your cock with a pressure that makes your stomach clench.
Rei is frozen above you. Trembling. Her eyes are still rolled back and her mouth is open in a silent oval. She's not breathing. You put a hand on her cheek and she blinks, focuses, sucks in a ragged gasp of air like she just surfaced from underwater. "There you go," you murmur. "Breathe. We've got you."
Yujin leans forward, pressing her chest against Rei's back, and wraps an arm around her waist. "You're doing so well. Just relax. We'll go slow."
The three of you hold there, connected, waiting. Rei's breathing gradually steadies. The trembling doesn't stop but it changes, shifting from shock to anticipation. Her pussy clenches around you in slow pulses, testing, adjusting, getting used to the impossible fullness of being stuffed in both holes at once.
"Okay." Her hips shift, just barely, a tiny experimental rock that makes all three of you feel it. "You can start. Just... go slow." She exhales shakily. "I really hope I survive this."
You start to move first. A slow, shallow thrust upward into Rei's pussy, feeling the tight, slick grip of her around your cock, made even tighter by the strap-on filling her from behind. A second later, Yujin follows, pulling her hips back and pushing the silicone cock forward into Rei's ass with a careful, exploratory rhythm that's clearly out of practice.
"It's been a minute since I've done this," Yujin admits, adjusting her grip on Rei's hips, finding her angle. "I'm relearning the choreography. Bear with me."
Rei is between you, suspended, her chest against yours, her face buried in the crook of your neck. Every movement from either direction makes her entire body shudder. Her fingers are digging into your shoulders so hard you're going to have bruises tomorrow, and the sounds coming out of her are small and constant, tiny whimpers that pulse with every thrust.
"It's really intense," Rei manages, her lips moving against your collarbone. "Both of you at the same time. I can feel everything. Every inch of both of you. It's so much."
"Having second thoughts?" you ask, running a hand down her spine.
"No. Just... recalibrating." She shivers as Yujin pushes deeper. "It looks so much easier in porn. Those girls are just bouncing around like it's nothing. They lied to me."
"Welcome to the harsh reality of having two cocks in your holes," Yujin says, settling into a slow, steady rhythm. "Porn is propaganda, little bird. This is the real thing."
You and Yujin find each other's rhythm. It takes a few strokes, a couple of adjustments, a silent negotiation between your bodies that happens through Rei, but after a minute you're moving in sync. When you thrust up, Yujin pulls back. When you pull out, she pushes in. Rei is never empty, always full of one of you, and the alternating pressure is making her lose her grip on reality one thrust at a time.
You cup the back of her head and tilt her face toward yours. Her eyes are glassy, unfocused, her lips wet and parted. You kiss her. Your tongue slides against hers and she moans into your mouth, the vibration traveling through your chest. She kisses you back with a sloppy, desperate hunger, her teeth catching your lower lip, her tongue chasing yours, and when you pull away she tries to follow, whining softly when the distance opens between you.
"You're doing so well," you tell her, brushing your thumb across her cheekbone. "You feel incredible. Both holes squeezing me. I've never felt anything like this."
Rei's cheeks flush even deeper, which shouldn't be possible given how red she already is. "Really?"
"Really. You're unbelievable."
Behind Rei, Yujin leans to the side, admiring the view. She reaches down with both hands and spreads Rei's cheeks apart, watching the strap-on slide in and out of her stretched, lubed hole. The sight makes her bite her lower lip and push in harder on the next stroke.
"The little bird was truly born to take it in the ass," Yujin says with the conviction of someone stating scientific fact. "Look at this. It's art. Someone should put this in a museum."
Rei whimpers into your chest. "That's not a museum-appropriate activity."
"Everything is museum-appropriate if the curator is brave enough." Yujin gives Rei's spread ass a long, appreciative look, then lifts her gaze to yours. That mischievous spark is back in her eyes, brighter than before. "So. What do you think of your first threesome?"
You thrust up into Rei and feel her clench around you. "I'm having a great time. Really enjoying the company."
Yujin snorts. She actually giggles, a sound you didn't think she was capable of producing. "I genuinely can't tell if you're describing a threesome or a picnic in the park."
“I love picnics,” Rei mumbles into your shoulder.
Yujin lets out an incredulous breath. “Nobody asked you anything, Rei."
“Sorry,” Rei says quickly, shifting slightly, almost sheepish. “I just… really like picnics. With sandwiches.”
Yujin actually pauses, then exhales a short, disbelieving laugh. “I’m literally inside your ass right now,” she says flatly, “and you’re talking about sandwiches. My fake dick almost went limp.”
Rei winces faintly at that, her fingers tightening where they rest. “Sorry,” she murmurs again. “didn’t mean to kill the vibe.”
Yujin's face softens. She runs her palm up Rei's back, gentle, grounding. "I'm just teasing, babe." Then her hand comes down on Rei's ass with a sharp crack that makes Rei's whole body jolt. "Now moan for mommy, okay?"
Rei obeys. A long, unfiltered moan that starts in her belly and spills out hot and broken against your skin. Her pussy clenches hard around your cock, and you feel the pressure of the strap-on through the thin wall between her holes, the silicone pressing against your shaft from the other side. "Good girl," Yujin purrs. "Louder."
You pick up the pace from below. Your hips drive up with more force, more speed, and Yujin matches you, the two of you falling into a faster rhythm that has Rei gasping and writhing between your bodies.
She's pinned. There's nowhere to go, nothing to do but take it, and the realization seems to hit her all at once because her body goes slack against your chest and she just surrenders. Completely. Every muscle releases and she becomes soft and pliant and open, her hips rocking between you in small, involuntary movements, her moans coming on every exhale.
"There she goes," Yujin murmurs. "She stopped fighting it. Now she's just taking it."
"That's it, Rei." You grab her ass with both hands, spreading her, giving Yujin a better angle. "Just feel it. Let us take care of you."
"Both of you," Rei pants, and her hips grind down onto your cock with a needy, circular motion. "Both of you feel so good. I'm so full. I've never been this full in my life."
You thrust harder. Yujin matches you. The rhythm is faster now, the bed rocking beneath the three of you, the headboard tapping the wall in a steady beat. Rei is sandwiched between your bodies, skin against skin, sweat mingling, and every thrust from either direction makes her cry out. The sounds she's producing are raw and uncontrolled, a continuous stream of moans and gasps and fragments of words that don't connect into sentences.
"Come on, little bird," Yujin says, snapping her hips forward, driving the strap-on deep. "Take it. Take both of us. You wanted this. You asked for this."
"I love it." Rei's nails score lines down your chest. "I love both of you inside me. Please don't stop. Daddy, please don't stop. Mommy, please."
You grab Rei's face in one hand and make her look at you. Her eyes are barely tracking, rolling and glassy, her pupils blown so wide the brown is nearly gone. There's drool on her chin again, her mascara is a lost cause and she is the most beautiful wreck you've ever seen in your life.
"Who makes you feel this good?" you ask, thrusting up hard enough to make her whole body bounce.
"You do, daddy." She can barely get the words out between moans. "You and Yujin. Nobody else. Nobody has ever made me feel like this."
"That's right,” Yujin says. “And nobody else is going to."
Yujin increases her pace. She's gripping Rei's hips hard enough to leave finger-shaped bruises, her own breathing getting heavier, her thighs slapping against Rei's ass with every forward snap. She leans over Rei's back, pressing close, her mouth near Rei's ear. "You're taking it so well, babe. Both holes stuffed full and you're still begging for more. You're our perfect little slut."
"I am," Rei sobs. "I'm your slut. Both of yours."
The three of you are moving together now, a single organism of tangled limbs and sweat and noise. You and Yujin have locked into a brutal, alternating rhythm, never letting Rei rest, never giving her a moment without one of you buried deep inside her. Your cock drives up into her pussy, thick and hard and relentless, while the strap-on fills her ass from behind, and Rei is caught in between, overwhelmed, overloaded, every nerve in her body firing at maximum capacity.
You feel her start to tighten. Not just her pussy, her whole body. Every muscle drawing taut, her thighs clamping against your sides, her fingers digging into your shoulders, her teeth sinking into the meat of your chest hard enough to sting. The moans are getting higher, tighter, more desperate.
"She's close," you tell Yujin.
"I know. I can feel her shaking." Yujin pounds harder, the strap-on driving deep. "Come on, Rei. Finish. Give us everything."
"I'm gonna cum." Rei's entire body is vibrating against yours, a fine, uncontrollable tremor that runs through her like an electrical current. "I can't hold it. Both of you are too much. It's too good. I'm gonna cum with both of you inside me."
"Then cum, babe," you tell her, grabbing her hips and driving up into her so hard she bounces off your pelvis. "Cum for us."
Yujin slams forward at the same time you do, and for one brutal, perfect second, Rei is completely filled from both sides at once. Maximum depth. Both holes stretched and stuffed and speared on cock.
Rei detonates. The orgasm is violent. Her body seizes above you, rigid as steel, and the scream that comes out of her is inhuman, a raw, tearing sound that doesn't stop, that just keeps pouring out of her throat as her body convulses. Her pussy crushes your cock in rhythmic, crushing contractions, so tight it's almost painful, and you can feel the strap-on jerking on the other side of that thin wall as her ass clenches just as hard.
She's shaking so violently that Yujin has to grab her waist to keep her from bucking off both of you, and wet heat floods around your cock as she cums so hard her body can't contain it, her juices spilling out around your shaft and running down your balls.
"Holy fuck," Yujin breathes, holding Rei steady, still buried inside her. "Holy fuck, she's still going."
Rei's orgasm keeps rolling, wave after wave, her body clenching and releasing in violent spasms that you feel through every inch of your cock. Tears are streaming down her face, mixing with the drool and the smeared mascara, and she's making sounds that have stopped resembling anything human, just raw, primal noise, her body expressing what her brain no longer can.
You and Yujin slow down together. Easing off. Letting the aftershocks ripple through her without adding to the overload. Yujin pulls out first, slow and careful, and Rei whimpers at the withdrawal, her body twitching. Then you ease your hips down, letting her feel you soften your rhythm to a gentle rocking, just enough contact to keep her grounded while the tremors gradually subside.
Rei collapses onto your chest. Completely boneless. Dead weight. She's breathing in ragged, hitching gasps, her whole body still twitching with aftershocks, and she doesn't move. Doesn't speak. Just lies there, draped across you, her face pressed against your neck, her heartbeat hammering so hard you can feel it against your own ribs.
Yujin unstraps the harness and tosses it off the bed. It lands somewhere on the floor with a thud. She lies down beside you both, propping herself on one elbow, and looks at Rei with something that transcends amusement and enters the territory of reverence.
"Rei. You alive?"
A long silence. Then, muffled against your neck: "I'm going to need a wheelchair from now on." Yujin laughs. "My legs don't work," Rei continues, her face still hidden. "My brain doesn't work. Nothing works. I'm broken. Both of you broke me."
"You're welcome,” Yujin says proudly.
Rei slowly, painfully, rolls off your chest and lands on her back beside you. She lies there spread-eagled on the destroyed bed, staring at the ceiling, chest heaving, body glistening. Every few seconds a residual shudder passes through her and she twitches, her thighs squeezing together involuntarily.
"Tell my Switch 2 I loved it a lot," she mumbles. "We had some amazing moments. Sadly, I won’t be finishing Pokopia..."
Yujin is grinning at Rei when you feel a hand on your jaw. She turns your face toward hers and kisses you. It's unexpected, and that's what makes it hit different. Her lips are soft against yours, warm and unhurried, and she kisses you like she's taking something for herself rather than proving a point. When she pulls back, her eyes are clear and steady. "Good job."
"You did pretty well yourself. Tag team of the century."
She grins, but it fades into something else. She leans close, her lips brushing the shell of your ear, her hand resting on your chest. Her breath is warm and her whisper is low enough that Rei can't hear it. "Can you make me cum again?" She traces a small circle on your chest with her fingertip. "I'm kind of obsessed with your cock. It's becoming a problem."
You turn your head and catch her eye. No guarded expression this time, just a lingering heat, a flicker of want, and something raw she isn’t covering up. "Of course I can,” you say.
Yujin grins again, grabs your hand and pulls you off the bed. Your feet hit the hardwood floor and she positions herself in front of you, standing at the edge of the mattress, her back to your chest. The late afternoon light is cutting through the floor-to-ceiling windows and painting gold stripes across her skin, across the lean lines of her shoulders and the sharp curve of her waist.
On the bed, Rei rolls onto her stomach and props her chin on her fists, settling in. Her legs kick up behind her, crossed at the ankles. "Go ahead. I'll just watch and enjoy the show."
Yujin glances back over her shoulder at Rei. "Didn't know you were into voyeurism."
"After today? Voyeurism is all I've got left." Rei shifts and hugs a pillow to her chest. "Everything else has been thoroughly explored. I'm retiring from active duty. Observer status only."
You put both hands on Yujin's waist. She's warm under your palms, her skin damp and smooth, and you can feel her pulse ticking fast beneath the surface. You pull her hips back against you, your cock settling between her thighs, sliding through the slick heat gathered there. She inhales sharply but doesn't move, letting you take the lead. You angle yourself and press the head of your cock against her entrance. She's wet. Embarrassingly wet, from everything she's watched and done and felt over the last however many hours this has been.
You push inside her. Slow. Steady. And Yujin exhales like she's been holding her breath since the last time you were in her, a long, shuddering sigh that drops her shoulders and tips her head forward. "I missed this," she murmurs. "It's been like thirty minutes and I missed this. That's pathetic."
You slide your hands up from her waist. Over the flat plane of her stomach, up her ribs, until your palms cover her breasts. They're full, firm and her nipples are stiff against your palms, and when you squeeze, gentle but possessive, she pushes back against you and takes you another inch deeper.
Your lips find the side of her neck. You kiss the spot just below her ear, then lower, along the tendon, tasting salt and perfume, and she tilts her head to give you more room. You mouth your way down to her shoulder, teeth grazing skin, and feel the goosebumps rise under your lips.
"You have the most incredible body," you tell her, squeezing her breasts again, rolling her nipples between your fingers. You thrust into her, slow and deep, and feel her clench around you. "Every single part of you. Your stomach. Your hips. These legs." You press deeper and she gasps. "You're so fucking hot it's hard to concentrate."
Yujin laughs, breathy and unsteady, her composure fraying at the edges. "You're so obsessed with me. It's borderline clinical."
"It's the truth. Why would I lie about it?" You pull back and push in again, a long stroke that fills her completely, and her laugh cuts off into a moan. "I've been with one woman for over a year and she never once made me feel anything close to what I feel when I'm inside you."
"Stop being smooth while you're fucking me. It's not fair. I can't think of comebacks."
"Then don't think." You start thrusting deeper. Not faster, just deeper, each stroke reaching further, grinding at the peak before pulling back. Yujin's head falls back against your shoulder, her hair spilling over your skin, and she stares at the ceiling with her lips parted and her eyes half-shut.
From this angle you can see everything. The way her throat works when she swallows a moan. The way her stomach clenches with every thrust. The way her hands hang at her sides because she doesn't know what to do with them, because she's given up trying to control the situation and she's just letting you have her.
"Damn… you’re fucking me so good," she says, voice low, stripped of anything but pure feeling. "You're hitting something in there that I didn't even know existed. How are you doing that?"
"Trade secret."
"Asshole."
"You two look really good together," Rei says, and her tone has a roughness to it that wasn't there a minute ago. "Like, unreasonably good. The height difference. The way she leans into you. The way your hands look on her body." She shifts again. "Maybe I'm more into this voyeurism thing than I thought."
Yujin moans, long and open, as you thrust particularly deep. "Enjoying the view, little bird?"
"Very much."
You keep fucking Yujin. Slow, measured strokes from behind, your hands exploring her body with a thoroughness that's making her squirm. Every time you squeeze her hip, she clenches around you. Every time you kiss her neck, she tilts into it. Every time you murmur something against her skin, her breathing gets shorter.
There's no pretense anymore. No competition, no performance, no score-keeping. She's just here, with you, feeling everything, and for the first time today she's letting herself have it without a fight.
"Wrap your arm around me," she says, quiet, tentative even. You slide your arm around her waist and pull her flush against your chest, and she makes a small, satisfied sound and reaches back to grip the back of your neck, holding you close. The position is intimate in a way that nothing else today has been. Your chest against her back, your arm around her, your cock buried deep inside her, the two of you moving together in the golden afternoon light.
After several minutes, the mattress creaks. Rei has gotten tired of watching. She pushes herself up, swings her legs off the bed, and stands in front of Yujin on unsteady legs. She's still flushed, still wrecked, still marked with the aftermath of everything that's happened to her body today, but there's a renewed energy in her eyes.
She steps close and cups Yujin's face in both hands. Yujin looks at her, surprised, and Rei kisses her, their lips meeting softly, tongues touching, Rei's thumbs stroking Yujin's cheekbones. When they part, Yujin's eyes are glassy. "Looks like the little bird got her strength back."
Rei smiles. "Watching you get fucked is like spinach. Instant recovery."
"Don’t ever let those words come out of your mouth around me again."
"Stop being so grumpy,” Rey says, then her mouth travels down. She kisses Yujin's jaw, her throat, the hollow of her collarbone. Her lips close around Yujin's left nipple and she sucks softly, her tongue flicking across the stiff peak. Yujin hisses through her teeth and her hand comes up to cradle the back of Rei's head, fingers threading through dark hair. You keep fucking Yujin from behind, your pace steady, and between the two of you she's starting to shake.
Rei kisses lower. Down Yujin's sternum, across her stomach, her lips tracing the faint lines of definition there. She drops to her knees between Yujin's thighs, looking up at both of you, and the angle gives her a perfect view of your cock sliding in and out of Yujin's pussy. "Let me help," Rei says, licking her lips.
You lift Yujin's left leg and place it on the edge of the mattress, opening her up. The new angle drives you deeper and Yujin gasps, grabbing your arm for balance. Her pussy is spread wide now, everything exposed, and Rei leans in and presses her tongue flat against Yujin's clit.
"Fuck—" Yujin breathes. "Oh, fuck."
Rei licks her in slow, broad strokes, her tongue running from where your cock enters Yujin all the way up to her clit and back down again. She's licking both of you, tasting Yujin's wetness and the slick coating your shaft, her tongue sliding along the underside of your cock every time you pull back. The sensation is staggering, Rei's hot, wet tongue dragging along your cock while Yujin's pussy grips you from every angle, and you have to lock your jaw to keep your composure.
"This is too fucking good," Yujin gasps, her head falling back against your shoulder again. "Both of you. Her tongue and your cock. It's too much. I can't handle this."
"You can handle it," you tell her, thrusting harder. "You're handling it right now."
"I'm barely surviving."
Rei focuses her attention on Yujin's clit, sucking it between her lips, flicking it with the tip of her tongue in quick, precise strokes. Her hands grip Yujin's thighs, holding her open, and every few seconds she dips down to drag her tongue along the stretched rim of Yujin's pussy where your cock is splitting her apart. The wet sounds are filthy and constant, Rei's mouth and your cock working together in a symphony of slick, obscene noise.
You increase your pace. Harder, faster, your hips driving into Yujin with a force that makes her whole body rock forward with each thrust. Rei adjusts, staying close, her tongue never leaving Yujin's clit. You grab Yujin's hip with one hand and her breast with the other, pulling her back onto your cock as you slam forward.
"I'm not going to last," Yujin pants. Her fingers are tangled in Rei's hair, pulling her closer, grinding her pussy against Rei's face. "Both of you at once is cheating. This is fucking cheating."
"Complain about it later," Rei says against her clit, the words buzzing against sensitive flesh, and Yujin's legs buckle for a second.
"Oh god. Oh god, oh god, oh god." Yujin's hand shoots back and grabs the back of your neck, nails biting into your skin. Her body is tensing up, that familiar full-body clench, every muscle drawing tight. "I'm close. I'm really close. Don't stop. Neither of you stop. Please, daddy, don't stop—"
You pound into her, relentless, your cock driving deep on every stroke. Rei sucks her clit hard, her cheeks hollowing, her eyes squeezed shut in concentration. Yujin is caught between the two of you, shaking, gasping, her body coiling tighter and tighter. "Cum for us," you growl against her ear. "Let go, babe."
Yujin cums. Her whole body seizes, her spine arching away from your chest, her mouth opening in a silent scream that hangs in the air for one eternal second before the sound catches up. A raw, shattered moan rips out of her, and then the flood. She squirts hard, a forceful spray that catches Rei directly in the face.
Rei flinches back, eyes flying open, sputtering. Her face is drenched. Her hair is drenched. She's blinking rapidly, mouth open in shock, Yujin's release dripping off her chin and running down her neck.
Yujin sees Rei's face through the haze of her orgasm and starts laughing. A breathless, broken laugh that mixes with her moans, her body still convulsing around your cock. "Oh my god. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, little bird. But your face right now..."
Another jet pulses out of her, arcing through the air and hitting Rei square in the chest, splashing across her breasts and running down her stomach. Rei looks down at herself, then up at Yujin, her expression caught between outrage and disbelief. "Yujin!"
"I can't control it!" Yujin is laughing so hard she can barely stand, her legs wobbling, her body still twitching through the tail end of her orgasm. "It just happens!"
You ease your pace, slowing to a gentle rocking, letting her ride the last waves. When you finally pull out, Yujin shudders one last time and exhales a breath that seems to empty her completely. She leans against you for a moment, catching her balance, then looks at Rei, who is kneeling on the floor absolutely soaked from the chest up.
Yujin's mouth twitches. "Okay. Since little bird got a surprise facial..." She pushes herself off you and lowers to her knees beside Rei, both of them on the floor in front of you. Yujin wipes a streak of wetness off Rei's cheek with her thumb and grins. "Let's finish the job properly."
Yujin's fingers wrap around the base of your cock. Rei's hand joins hers, overlapping, both of them stroking you in tandem. Their faces are inches from the head, looking up at you, and the visual alone almost does you in. "Look at these balls," Yujin says, her free hand cupping them, weighing them, rolling them in her palm. "So fucking full. You've been holding it in this whole time while you made both of us cum how many times? You're gonna explode. There's gonna be so much."
Rei runs her tongue along the underside of your shaft while Yujin strokes, a long, slow lick from base to tip that makes your thighs tense. "He deserves it. He's been so patient."
"Patient isn't the word. This man has the self-control of a monk." Yujin leans forward and takes the head into her mouth, sucking hard, her cheeks hollowing, tasting herself on you. She pulls off with a wet sound. "I can still taste my pussy on your dick. That's so hot."
Rei takes over, swallowing you deep, her throat opening around your shaft with that natural ease that made Yujin's jaw drop earlier. She holds there, her nose pressed against your pelvis, then pulls back slowly, a thick string of saliva connecting her lip to your cock. "You taste like both of us now."
They alternate. Rei goes deep while Yujin works the shaft. Then Yujin takes you in her mouth, sloppy and aggressive, while Rei dips lower and sucks your balls, taking one into her mouth, rolling it gently with her tongue. The combined sensation of two mouths, two tongues, four hands, all of it focused on your cock with a coordinated intensity that borders on worship, is pushing you toward the edge faster than anything has all afternoon.
"You two are so fucking good together," you manage, your hand finding the back of Yujin's head, your other hand tangled in Rei's hair. "The best mouths I've ever had. Nothing even comes close."
Yujin pulls off long enough to grin up at you. "Tell us more."
"Fishing for compliments with my dick in your mouth. Classy."
"Always." She runs her tongue in a circle around the head. "Now tell us how bad you want to cum."
"Pretty fucking bad."
Rei releases your balls and licks her way back up, joining Yujin at the tip. Both their tongues meet at the head, lapping at the sensitive ridge, their lips brushing against each other and against you in a wet, messy tangle that makes your abs clench hard enough to ache.
"Then cum for us, daddy," Rei says, looking up at you with those wide brown eyes that have no right to look that innocent given what her mouth is doing. "Please. We want it."
"We need it," Yujin adds, stroking you faster. "Cum on our faces. Give us what Wonyoung would never let you have." She spits on your cock and twists her fist on the upstroke, her grip tightening. "That prissy bitch would never let you cum on her perfect little princess face. Too messy. Too dirty. Too beneath her."
"But we're not her," Rei breathes, her tongue flicking across your slit. "We actually want it. We're begging for it."
"We're so much better than her." Yujin's pace increases, her fist pumping your slick cock fast and relentless. "We let you fuck our pussies raw. We let you fuck Rei's tight little ass. We let you do anything you want with us. Wonyoung could never."
"She could never," Rei echoes, sucking the tip between her lips briefly. "She doesn't deserve this cock. We do."
"So give it to us." Yujin's hand is a blur now, her wrist snapping on every stroke, your cock drooling precum that she smears across the head with her thumb. "Cum all over us. Paint our faces. We want to wear it."
Your grip tightens in both their hair. Your thighs are shaking. Your balls are drawn up tight and the pressure is building, building, a coiling heat in your lower stomach that's about to snap. Both of them are focused on the tip now, their tongues overlapping, licking, their lips kissing the head of your cock from either side.
"Cum, daddy," Rei whispers.
"Fucking cum," Yujin demands.
You break. The first rope hits Yujin across the bridge of her nose and her right cheek, thick and white and hot. She doesn't flinch. Doesn't close her eyes. Just keeps stroking, her fist pumping your cock through the orgasm, milking every drop. "More," she says. "Give us more. Don't stop."
The second shot catches Rei across her forehead and her left eye, which she squeezes shut just in time. It drips down her brow and along her cheekbone. The third hits them both, streaking across Yujin's lips and Rei's chin. You're cumming harder than you've ever cum in your life, weeks and months of pent-up frustration and loneliness and faithfulness to a woman who couldn't be bothered to break up with you in person, all of it pouring out of you in thick, pulsing ropes that keep coming and coming.
Yujin's hand doesn't stop. She keeps stroking, fast and tight, pulling every last drop from you while your cock throbs and kicks in her grip. "That's it. Keep cumming. Fuck, there's so much. Look at all of it, Rei."
Rei is a mess. Her face is glazed with it, white streaks across her forehead, her nose, her cheeks, dripping off her chin onto her chest. She opens her good eye and looks up at you with that stupid, blissed-out grin. Your cock pulses one more time, a final weak spurt that lands on Yujin's collarbone, and then you're done. Empty. Completely and thoroughly spent.
Yujin smiles up at you. Her face is covered. It's in her eyelashes, across the bridge of her nose, on her upper lip. She looks like a glazed donut and she couldn't look more satisfied about it. "Amazing… And to think I'm getting paid for this."
Rei scoops a thick line of cum off her cheek with two fingers and slides them into her mouth, sucking them clean. She considers the taste for a moment, like a sommelier evaluating a vintage, and nods approvingly. Yujin runs her tongue across her upper lip, collecting what's gathered there, and swallows.
You sit down on the edge of the mattress. Your legs feel like they've been deboned. You lean back on your hands and let out a breath that comes from somewhere deep in your chest, somewhere that's been clenched tight for months. "That was fucking awesome."
"The best part," Rei says, still kneeling on the floor, still dripping, "is that we're sleeping here tonight. So we can do it again later."
Yujin groans from the floor. "Do we really need him? What if he's a serial killer? We don't know this man."
Rei looks at her flatly. "I just let the serial killer cum on my face, Yujin."
Yujin purses her lips. Opens her mouth. Closes it. "You have a point."
You lean forward and offer both of them a hand up. "How about a bath? I've got a tub big enough for three."
"You made the mess," Yujin says, taking your hand and pulling herself to her feet. "You clean it up." She touches her hair and her fingers come away sticky. "There's cum in my hair. This is a two-hundred-dollar blowout."
"I'll wash it for you."
"Damn right you will."
—
A few hours later, the penthouse feels calmer. Golden daylight has slipped into a cool evening blue, and the city beyond the windows begins to glow.
Yujin is in your kitchen. She's wearing your shirt, a white oxford that hangs to the top of her thighs, the hem just barely covering the curve of her ass, which peeks out whenever she reaches for anything above counter height. Her legs are bare, her hair is damp from the bath and starting to curl at the ends, and she's got your wireless headphones clamped over her ears.
She's singing, her hips swaying as she opens the freezer and pulls out a tub of ice cream. Her bare feet pad across the kitchen tile and she grabs a spoon from the drawer, scooping out a bite and eating it while she sings between mouthfuls.
"Hey, Miss Sun, what can I say?" She twirls the spoon between her fingers, bobbing her head. "I tried to hold you, but the moon got in the way..." She does a little spin, sliding on the tile in her bare feet, and catches herself on the counter. "It won't be long before the morning has you back in my arms—"
The music cuts out. Her phone buzzes on the counter, the screen lighting up. She glances at it and the spoon freezes halfway to her mouth.
Jang Wonyoung
Yujin sets down the ice cream. Pulls off the headphones. Takes a breath. Answers. "Hey, boss."
Wonyoung's tone comes through tinny and sharp, even from across the room. Yujin leans against the counter and examines her nails while she listens.
"Where are you two? You've been off the grid all day. I tried calling Rei three times."
"Yeah, sorry about that. Rei hurt her ankle. Fell down some stairs on the way out of his building." Yujin picks at a cuticle. "That girl doesn't look where she's going. I keep telling her. She just spaces out and trips over everything."
"Is she okay?"
"She's fine. It's just a mild sprain. I took her back to her apartment to keep an eye on her. We'll probably be in tomorrow."
A pause on the other end. "How did it go? Everything run smoothly?"
"Smooth as silk. Textbook operation. Contract signed, obligations fulfilled. All wrapped up."
"Did he cry?"
A flicker of tension pulls at Yujin’s jaw before she smooths it over. “No,” she says, light as ever.
"Seriously?" Wonyoung sounds genuinely annoyed. "He should have cried. I expected at least some tears. I would have cried."
"I think he wanted to. He was definitely holding it back. Didn't want to cry in front of two girls, you know? Fragile masculinity. Big ego, small emotional range. The usual."
"Men..." Wonyoung sighs with the weariness of someone who has never once been inconvenienced by her own behavior. "How was the sex?"
"Everything went according to plan. He was satisfied by the end. No complaints. No resentment. Mission accomplished."
"Perfect. Great work, Yujin. Now we just have to wait about six months." Wonyoung's tone shifts into something brighter, more animated, the sound of someone admiring their own strategy. "The breakup's going to generate tons of attention. Everyone loves a fallen romance. Sympathetic press for me, speculation, mystery. And then in six months, we get back together. Reconciliation arc. The public eats that up. Engagement numbers will be through the roof."
Yujin stares at the far wall. "Sounds like you've got it all figured out."
"I always do. Just keep the documents safe. I want everything on my desk tomorrow."
"Of course. You can count on me, boss."
"I know I can. Goodnight, Yujin."
"Goodnight."
The call ends. The screen goes dark. Yujin stands there for a moment, phone in hand, staring at nothing. Then she puts the headphones back on. The music starts again, Miss Sun picking up where it left off. She grabs the ice cream tub and turns toward the hallway. On her way past the kitchen trash can, she glances down.
Inside, sitting on top of crumpled paper towels, is a small pile of ashes. Gray and black and still faintly warm. The edges of a few charred paper fragments are still visible, corners of thick, expensive legal stock, the kind used for contracts that were meant to be kept in briefcases and filed in offices and presented to bosses who think they run the world.
Yujin takes a bite of ice cream and looks at the ashes for a long, satisfied moment.
“That bitch has no idea what’s coming,” she murmurs around the spoon.
Yujin turns off the kitchen light and pads down the hallway to your bedroom, carrying the ice cream with her, humming softly.
A latency ask? holyyyy shit this is like a gold scar
Heeyeon - She's like the most vanilla seeming member of latency, shy and all. So missionary in her bed with some music running in the background. Night time of course.
zzone/Jeewon - She's like the opposite of Heeyeon in the sense she's definintely an eccentric, very bubbly and kinda loud. Life of the party type vibes.
So riding, one because of the aforementioned things. And two because she got big boobs so, jiggle :)
Haeun - Similar to Heeyeon in that she's pretty vanilla leaning, but I think that comes out less during sex and she's more of a go with the punches sorta woman. Doesn't have it set in stone because her mind changes a lot, maybe something to do with her hands because keyboardist.
Hyunjin - Anything, as long as it has a mirror she can see. She's the ultimate self appreciation queen and if she can see herself and how hard she's worked she gets off on that. The position barely matters, though every position that gives her the best angle of that.
Yeah that's what she's into and thats what she wants.
Semi - A lot of the images I've seen of her, alongside her personality makes me fully convinced Latency has adopted a second Choerry and that can only mean one thing.
at the risk of summoning a particular asker... Mating press, because it's just Choerry, again.
ps - stream Latency, stan Latency and thank you for the Latency ask, feel free to come again soon :)
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The penthouse had the same cozy smell every morning: fresh coffee, Yoona's floral perfume, Taeyeon's soft vanilla lotion, and the light sweet scent of the perfume the sisters always wore at shows. At seven in the morning, Yoona was already in the kitchen, her long bare legs under one of Taeyeon's oversized shirts, humming old Girls’ Generation songs while stirring the eggs and rice. Taeyeon entered a few moments later, sleepy and warm, hugging her wife from behind and giving her a kiss on the nape of her neck. They were the foundation of the family, married, mature, affectionate. Yoona was the most organized and proper, always making sure everyone's schedules aligned. Taeyeon was the calmest, whose love felt like a blanket you could wrap yourself in forever.
Then the siblings arrived, turning the kitchen into something noisier and much more electric. Jimin (Karina to the world, but just Jimin at home) entered next, her hair still damp from the shower, wearing only an old loose white t-shirt that did nothing to hide the heavy sway of her huge, soft breasts and tiny black sleep shorts that clung tightly to the curves of her thick thighs and that perfect, round ass. At twenty-two, she was the oldest, the second mother (or rather, the third), the one who made sure Luccas ate well and that Minjeong remembered her vitamins. As she passed, she ruffled Luccas's short dark hair, leaned down to kiss the top of Minjeong's head, and dropped into the chair with a dramatic sigh, “Ah~ another day being perfect...” she joked, and her mothers laughed because it was true. She kept everyone together.
Minjeong (better known as Winter), nineteen years old and the baby of the family, entered last, almost disappearing inside one of Luccas's huge hoodies, which hid her small and delicate body. She was reserved with strangers, but at home she was all soft whimpers and excessive caresses seeking attention. Casually, she sat directly on Luccas's lap, resting her head under his chin and murmuring: “Oppa, did you sleep well?”, while her hands played with the hem of his shirt. Her jealousy was silent but huge, especially when Jimin's hugs lasted a little too long or when Luccas's eyes fixed even for a second on his older sister's chest.
Luccas, twenty years old, sat in the middle, literally and figuratively. The quiet middle child, the one who carried everyone's bags after practice and remembered what kind of coffee each aespa member needed. On the surface, he was the perfect son and brother. Respectful, helpful, introverted. No one knew that inside, he was burning alive with the most intense and shameful perversion imaginable. It started at sixteen and, over time, consumed him more and more. Every room, every scent, every movement in this house fed the fire inside him.
He was obsessed with his sisters. Jimin's voluptuous body, the vigorous sway of her big breasts, the softness of her belly, the way her thick thighs rubbed against each other. Minjeong's small and delicate body, her flat chest, narrow waist, the round little butt that seemed almost fragile. He was equally obsessed with his mothers. Yoona's long and elegant legs and the way her big ass filled her yoga pants. Taeyeon's slender and graceful figure and the quiet maturity in her smile. And permeating all of this, clear and undeniable, was his deep foot fetish. He loved their feet. The soft arches, the perfect toes, the way they looked after a long day in high heels or barefoot on the cold tile. He desired them in secret. The sight of any of their feet was enough to make his cock throb instantly.
He had more than special moments alone whenever the mothers went out. He masturbated in Jimin's bed with her used panties wrapped around his penis, inhaling her scent while imagining burying his face between her thighs. He would sneak into Minjeong's room to rub himself on her pillow while imagining her small body under him, using her as the perfect little toy she secretly wanted to be. He had done the same in his mothers' room. Once, thinking about Yoona, he masturbated furiously while looking at the strappy heels she had worn the night before, imagining her long and beautiful feet pressed against his face. Another time, thinking about Taeyeon, he stuck his nose into a pair of her elegant Louboutin high heels and masturbated imagining her beautiful soles on his tongue. The guilt was there, but so was the thrill.
Jimin noticed everything. She started leaving the bedroom door ajar while changing after practices, allowing him to see her voluminous and heavy breasts swinging when she unhooked her bra and the slow movement of her bottoms sliding down her thick thighs. She would “accidentally” brush her body against his in the hallway, pressing her soft belly and huge breasts against his chest for a second longer than she should. At dinner, her small soft hand would rest on his thigh under the table and squeeze it, her eyes shining with mischief. Minjeong's jealousy made her bolder, in her own way. She started wearing even shorter shorts at home, sat on his lap more often, rubbing her tiny ass while whispering, “Oppa, I can feel you getting hard… Is it because unnie is being super clingy again?” She would press her flat chest against his back in the kitchen and murmur: “I can be good for you too, you know... Even better than her...”
The tension had been building slowly for months until it finally exploded. The first big break happened on a Thursday night. Yoona and Taeyeon were at a business dinner. Jimin and Minjeong had just gotten home from a performance. Luccas couldn't wait any longer. He entered Jimin's room while she was showering, grabbed the black pantyhose she had just taken off, which was still warm and with the crotch slightly wet, and wrapped it around his cock on her bed. He was in the middle of jerking off, moaning her name, when the door opened. Jimin was there, wrapped in a towel, hair damp, her dark eyes intense. She didn't look surprised and a slight smile formed on her face, “Luccas…” He froze, his cock throbbing, his face burning with shame. She entered, closed the door slowly and let the towel fall. Her voluptuous body was completely exposed. Huge heavy breasts with dark nipples, soft belly, meaty thighs and a beautiful pussy that she hadn't shaved in a few days and that certainly smelled and tasted wonderful. “Little brother… you don't need to hide anymore. I've known for a long time. The way you look at me. The way my things come back… used.” She smiled again, soft and warm, crossing the room to sit on the edge of the bed. “And I like it. A lot.” That night, they didn't go all the way. She simply pulled his face to her chest, cradling him like she always did, and let him suck on her nipple while her small hand caressed his cock slowly and gently through the pantyhose. She watched her brother and his desperate mouth on her breast with great pride. Afterward, she held him tightly as he spilled all over her soft belly, thick jets painting her skin. She kissed his forehead and whispered: “You're safe with me, Luccas. Noona is here.”
Minjeong caught them the next morning, entering the hallway and seeing Jimin saying goodbye to Luccas with a kiss, his hand cupping one of her breasts. Instead of anger, Minjeong's eyes filled with desire and that familiar intense jealousy. She simply approached, leaned against his back and whispered: “It'll be my turn soon, oppa. I'm waiting too.” Jimin truly claimed him two nights later. Minjeong was in a prolonged recording session. The mothers were out. Jimin prepared dinner wearing nothing but an apron, her huge tits visible from the side of the apron and her big ass completely exposed. They ate on the couch, her thigh resting over his lap. Afterward, she pulled him into her room, gently pushed him onto the bed and straddled his hips. “I need you tonight, baby,” she murmured, her voice low and affectionate. “No more pretending.” She guided his hands to her breasts, letting him squeeze them as much as he wanted. Then she slid down his body, taking his thick cock into her mouth, hot, wet and perfect, sucking him slowly and deeply until he was trembling. When she finally sat on his cock, taking every inch in a smooth slide, Luccas moaned at how hot and tight she felt around him. She rode him firmly, thighs flexing as her hips rotated in slow circles. Her huge boobs swayed with every movement, and she kept one hand in his hair, guiding his mouth back to her nipple. “That's it... suck on noona while you fuck me,” she whispered, her voice sweet and commanding at the same time. “You're such a good boy for me, Luccas. My perfect little brother.” He felt completely dominated, completely safe, loved in the most obscene way possible. Jimin treated him like her baby and her toy at the same time. Protective, dominant, infinitely affectionate. She made him feel small and loved, even while using his dick for her own pleasure, whispering praises between moans until they both came intensely, him deep inside her and her contracting around him with a trembling cry.
Afterward, she slowly pulled away from him, his cock glistening with their mixed fluids, and smiled that mischievous older sister smile. “I know what else you want, baby. You've been staring at my feet for years.” She positioned herself on the bed, placing the perfect soft soles of each foot on either side of his still-hard cock, and pressed them together around him. Her arches wrapped perfectly around his thickness, her toes flexing as she began to stroke him up and down in a slow, teasing footjob. The heat of her skin and the way her toes curled over the head of his cock was everything he had fantasized about. Jimin watched his face the whole time, biting her lip, her huge breasts rising and falling as she stimulated him. “That's it… fuck noona's pretty feet like the little pervert you are. You've jerked off thinking about them so many times, haven't you?” Luccas thrust between her soles, moaning, until he couldn't hold back anymore. He came hard, thick ropes of cum splashing over her perfect feet and ankles. Jimin just chuckled softly, bringing one foot to his mouth so he could lick it clean. “Good boy.” Afterward, she pulled him to her chest again, nestling his head between her breasts, stroking his hair and kissing his forehead. “You belong to me now,” she murmured. “I'll protect you, spoil you, ruin you… anything you need. I love you so much, little brother.”
Minjeong's turn came three days later. She had been extremely affectionate and whiny all morning, wearing only Luccas's hooded sweatshirt, with nothing underneath. She found him in his room and suddenly snuggled into his lap. “Oppa…” she whispered, her voice soft and sweet but tinged with desire. “Unnie had you first... but I want you to use me too...” Luccas tried to be gentle at first, kissing her softly, removing the sweatshirt to reveal her tiny breasts, smooth belly and narrow waist. But Minjeong didn't want gentleness. She pushed his head between her thighs and begged: “Eat me, oppa. Make me yours.” Her pussy was shaved, tiny, tight and so wet. He licked her until she came, moaning and pulling his hair. When he finally penetrated her, she gasped, digging her nails into his shoulders. “You're splitting me... so deep... use me harder, oppa.” He fucked her like the delicate toy she wanted to be, pinning her small wrists above her head, thrusting deep and firmly into her tight heat while her thin legs wrapped around his waist. Minjeong treated him differently from Jimin. She was possessive and spoiled, making him feel powerful and needed at the same time. She wanted to be dominated, used and then spoiled. “Harder… break me,” she moaned, her eyes glazed with pleasure. He came deep inside her, filling her up while she contracted around him, cumming again with a soft moan. Afterward, she snuggled against him like a kitten, her hand wrapping around his softening dick. “Don't love unnie more than me,” she murmured, half joking, half serious. “I'll be your perfect little toy… or I'll be bad if you want. But you have to take care of me afterward, oppa.”
The three continued getting involved for another week. Stolen kisses in the kitchen, Jimin caressing Minjeong on the couch while Luccas watched, Minjeong giving him a blowjob under the dinner table while Jimin cooked. The mothers would come home and, apparently, everything seemed normal. Family dinners, movie nights where Luccas's head rested on Jimin's soft chest and Minjeong snuggled by his side. But the atmosphere between the siblings was electric.
The night when everything became definitive came on a stormy Saturday. Yoona and Taeyeon had spent the night in another city. The penthouse belonged to the siblings. They started on the couch, with the lights low, the rain beating hard against the windows. Clothes were slowly removed. Jimin's huge breasts were freed, Minjeong's small body looked so fragile next to her, Luccas's thick cock stood proud and leaking. Jimin took control as always. She made Luccas lie on his back on the couch. Then she straddled his face, facing his feet, lowering her wet pussy onto his mouth while leaning forward. Minjeong climbed on top of him too, but instead of mounting his cock immediately, she knelt between his spread thighs and took him into her mouth first, sucking him deeply while Jimin rubbed herself on his face. The position allowed the sisters to kiss and touch each other on top of him. Jimin's hands in Minjeong's blonde hair, Minjeong's fingers pinching Jimin's nipples, while Luccas licked, sucked and moaned into his older sister's pussy. After a few minutes, Jimin pulled away from his face, breathing heavily. “Switch, baby. I want to feel you inside me while Minjeong watches closely.” She turned and sank onto his cock in cowgirl position, facing him this time, so he could see her massive tits swaying loosely. Minjeong crawled to the side of them on the carpet, kissing Luccas wetly while her hand rubbed Jimin's clit. The three moved together, Jimin riding him deep and slow, Minjeong's tongue in his mouth, her tiny body pressed against his side. They kept switching positions, never losing the rhythm. Luccas sat up, pulled Minjeong onto his lap with her back to him and fucked her in reverse cowgirl while Jimin knelt in front of her, licking Minjeong's tiny clit and massaging Luccas's balls at the same time. Minjeong came hard, whimpering like a puppy. Then Luccas put Jimin on all fours on the carpet and penetrated her from behind, hammering her soaked pussy while Minjeong lay underneath them, sucking and squeezing Jimin's swinging breasts.
The hours passed and they didn't even notice. They came again and again. Jimin contracting around him while Minjeong masturbated, Minjeong screaming when he filled her small pussy, the two sisters on their knees sharing his cock with their mouths until he covered their tongues and chins. In the last round, Luccas laid them on their backs side by side on the carpet, legs spread, and fucked them one after the other, with deep thrusts into Jimin's welcoming heat, then into Minjeong's incredibly tight little pussy, until he couldn't hold back anymore. He pulled out at the last second and came over both their bellies and breasts, thick white spurts marking them as his. When they finally collapsed in a sweaty, cum-covered pile on the couch, Jimin pulled their heads to her soft chest. Luccas latched onto a fat nipple, lazily sucking like the baby he secretly loved to be. Minjeong caressed the other, her hand possessively wrapping around her brother's exhausted cock.
“This is us now,” Jimin whispered, her voice hoarse and satisfied, stroking their hair. “No more hiding. No more masturbating alone in our rooms. You cum for your sisters. You fuck us. You belong to us.” Minjeong kissed his chin, sleepy and satisfied. “And I can be your little toy whenever I want… right, oppa?” Luccas nodded, exhausted, happy, completely subdued. The rain kept falling. The penthouse smelled of sex, vanilla, strawberry, sweat and cum. Tomorrow the mothers would come home, and everyone would sit down for breakfast as if nothing had changed. Yoona teasing them for being too quiet, Taeyeon smiling softly. But the three would exchange secret glances across the table, carrying the most obscene and most beautiful family secret. Jimin kissed the top of Luccas's head. “Sleep, baby. Tomorrow we start figuring out how to make this work every day… us three, whenever we want.” Minjeong let out a soft giggle against his neck. “Promise?” “I promise,” Jimin murmured, pulling the blanket over the three of them. Luccas then fell asleep between the two girls who had become his obsession, his ruin and his everything. His sisters, his lovers, the center of all his obscene fantasies.
A/N: The final path into the Blackhole. Thank you for being on this journey. I hope you enjoyed all 6 paths into the Blackhole.
pleasure_protocol.exe (v.1.0.0)
It is the year 2569.
They used to joke that technology would solve everything. That by now we’d be living in some glittering utopia of flying cars and endless leisure. Instead, the world is still the same tired mess it has always been — just with better graphics.
Pride. Greed. Lust. Envy. Gluttony. Wrath. Sloth.
Humanity’s greatest hits, remastered in 8K.
At least sloth is easier to indulge in these days.
Rain hammers the corrugated roof of the bar like impatient fingers. The air is thick with the smell of over synthetic liquor, mouldy concrete, and the sour tang of spilled drinks. You sit hunched on a cracked stool, the fifth glass sweating between your callused fingers. The liquor has softened the edges of the world, but not enough.
It's never enough.
Your cheap wrist device blinks at 17% battery. The connection signal is weak. Perfect. That means minimal disruptions. You don't want to polish anything tonight. Polished means expectations. Expectations means more polishing. Another endless cycle.
Just like the rest of your fucking life.
With a disoriented thumb you tap the public simulation node. You're on the free tier with no account required, and it’s the kind of place that resets every hour, cleansing everything inside that smells of morbidity and desperation. Easy in, easy out.
You reach your wrist device forward and connect to the login prompt.
Authorised.
Light flashes in your eyes and swallows you whole.
The transition is cheap and ugly (reflective of the free price): a lurch behind your eyes, a static hiss in your ears. Then the world resolves.
Soft violet lighting. A low, pulsing bass line that feels more like a heartbeat than music. The simulation lounge is crowded with avatars, some glossy and expensive, others glitchy and half-rendered. Your own avatar is of course the bare-minimal default of plain black shirt, jeans, and your own unaltered face you never bothered to customize. You look exactly like what you are.
An exhausted man trying to disappear.
You drift towards the long obsidian bar, order something, and simply exist. Drinking here doesn't feel the same as drinking outside. But a drink is a drink.
That is when she notices you.
She has been working in the room for three simulated hours already. Her avatar is exquisite in its restraint: long dark hair that catches the violet strobes like spilled gleams, a simple silk slip the color of crimson that clings without screaming for attention. Her face is delicate but not doll-like — sharp cheekbones, full lips, eyes that seem to hold too much quiet despite being part of a companion program. You watch her turn down three wealthier clients tonight.
Perhaps it is something about the way you sit — shoulders curved inward, gaze unfocused — that she slides onto the stool beside you without asking.
“Rough night?”
Her voice is low, a little husky, but it's the kind that doesn’t need to raise itself to be heard.
You glance sideways with a tired half-smile that tugs at your mouth.
“That obvious?”
“Only to someone who’s seen the look before.” She tilts her head, studying you. “You’re not here for the usual show, are you?”
You let out a soft breath that might have been a laugh. “No. Just… to forget. For a while.”
Her smile is small and gentle. “Then you came to the right place. Forgetting is my specialty.”
You talk. Awkward at first with halting sentences and long silences, but honest in a way that surprises you both. You tell her your name is Jae, that the rain outside your real window matches the one in here, that you drink because the silence in your apartment is louder than the noise in your head. She listens without performing sympathy, only nodding, occasionally teasing you lightly when your words grow too heavy.
“You sound like a man who’s been carrying the same stone for years,” she says, tracing an idle pattern on the bar with one fingertip. “Ever try setting it down?”
“Not tonight,” you answer.
Then quieter. “Maybe not ever.”
She doesn’t push. Instead she lets the silence settle again, comfortable this time.
After a while she leans closer, close enough that you can smell the faint synthetic jasmine on her skin. It's warm, it's expensive, and it's designed to linger in your synthetic nostrils.
“Would you like to forget with me?” she asks simply. No coy wink, no scripted seduction. Just the question, offered like an open hand.
You look at her for a long moment. Something in your chest unclenches.
“Yeah,” you say. “I would.”
The private room she leads you to is small and intimate. Low lighting the color of unripe peaches, a wide bed dressed in black sheets that look soft enough to drown in. No mirrors, no unnecessary details. Just the bed and two of you.
She closes the door with a soft click and turns to you with a slow, sultry smile that makes heat coil low and heavy in your stomach.
You don’t rush.
But she pushes.
She steps close and kisses you first, pressing her lips deep, hungry and unhurried onto yours, her tongue sliding against yours like warm silk. She tastes of cherries and something darker. When she pulls back just enough to speak, her voice is a husky murmur against your lips.
“Let me take care of you tonight… I’m going to make you forget everything, other than me.”
Her hands move with expert confidence, peeling your clothes away while her mouth pepper hot, open kisses down your throat. She finds every sensitive spot with frightening accuracy, licking, sucking and grazing just hard enough to make you hiss. When she reaches your chest, she circles one nipple with her tongue before sucking it into her mouth, humming softly at the way your back arches.
“Mm… so responsive already,” she whispers with seductive approval. “I like that. Let me hear more of those sounds.”
She guides your hand between her thighs, feeling her already slick and scorching heat. Covering your fingers with her own, she shows you exactly how she wants it. Slow circles over her swollen clit, then two fingers sliding deep. She rides your hand with languid rolls of her hips, inner walls fluttering and clenching greedily around you.
“Just like that… fuck, your fingers feel so good… spreading me… stretching me…,” she breathes, eyes half-lidded with pleasure. “Deeper… yes… keep going.”
You dig deeper and curve your two fingers towards you in alternate frequencies, coaxing the wet juices and moans out of her. Then you scissor your fingers, spreading her folds wide before thrusting in deep.
“Oh gosh… I can't take it anymore… I need you inside of me…”
When she finally straddles you, she wraps one hand around your aching cock and strokes you with slow, twisting pulls while rubbing the swollen head teasingly along her dripping folds, coating you in her wetness.
“Feel how wet I am for you?” she coos. “You’re going to slide in so deep… I can’t wait to ride this cock.”
She sinks down inch by inch, enveloping you in a slow slide with her tight, velvet heat. It makes your toes curl and your breath catch. Once you’re buried to the hilt she pauses for only a heartbeat, letting you feel her pulse around you.
Then she begins to move.
The intensity builds fast.
At first her hips roll in deep, powerful waves. They're sensual, controlled and devastating, each snap and roll dragging you along every sensitive inch inside her, walls clenching rhythmically like she’s milking pleasure from your very soul. But the hunger in her eyes grows darker.
She plants her hands firmly on your chest and leans forward, shifting into something far more primal.
She starts bouncing.
Smooth, controlled lifts and drops that rise until only the head of your cock remains inside her, then slamming back down, taking every thick inch in one greedy stroke. Her small breasts bounce and jiggles with each downward thrust, nipples tight and dark in the dull unripe peach light. The wet slaps of her ass meeting your hips echoes through the small room, growing louder and faster.
“Fuck… you feel so good,” she gasps huskily as she rides you harder. “So thick… stretching me open every time I drop down on you.”
She doesn’t stop. She keeps bouncing with long, continuous and relentless strokes. Up until you almost slip out, then crashing back down, her slick pussy swallowing your cock again and again. Her dark hair flies wildly around her shoulders and sweat begins to glisten on her skin with the intensity. Her thighs flex powerfully with every rise and fall.
“Watch me,” she taunts softly, eyes locked on yours. “Watch how deep I take you. You like that? You like how my pussy looks wrapped around your cock while I bounce on it?”
She rides you faster, hips snapping down with seductive force. The bed creaks beneath you. The wet sounds of her dripping cunt sliding up and down your shaft fill the room. It's lewd, rhythmic and addictive.
“Don’t hold back,” she moans, bouncing even harder. “Let me fuck you properly. Use me. Fill me up with that thick cock.”
You can’t stay passive anymore. Her dirty talk and the sight of her bouncing so shamelessly on you triggers something inside you. You grip her hips tightly and start thrusting up to meet her, driving your cock even deeper on every downward bounce.
“Yes — just like that!” she cries out. “Fuck me back. Harder. I want to feel you slam up into me while I ride you.”
The pace turns brutal. She keeps bouncing with long, powerful strokes that never seem to end while you thrust up to meet her, the two of you colliding again and again in a wet, frantic rhythm. Her breasts bounce wildly. Her inner walls flutter and squeeze around you with an otherworldly expert skill, milking your cock on every upward thrust and every downward slam.
“Fuck, you’re so deep,” she gasps “I can feel you hitting the back of my pussy every time. Don’t stop — keep fucking me like that. Give me that cock. I want all of it.”
She rides you even harder, ass slapping loudly against your thighs, her slick juices coating your cock and dripping down your balls, pooling at the already crumpled sheets beneath you. Her moans grow louder, more desperate, but she never loses control. She's still the one setting the merciless rhythm, still taunting you with every word.
“Look at you… losing control already,” she purrs between bounces. “You were trying to be so quiet when you walked in. Now you’re thrusting up into me like you can’t get enough. Come on, give it to me harder. Pound my pussy while I bounce on you.”
The intensity keeps building. She bounces faster, longer, taking you deeper with every drop. You thrust up harder, meeting her halfway, the wet sounds turning disgustingly pornographic. The bed shakes. Sweat slicks both your bodies, darkening the already black sheets below. Her long dark hair sticks to her damp skin as she throws her head back, lips parted in raw pleasure.
When you finally flip her onto her back, she laughs breathlessly at your bravery, moaning seductively and immediately wraps her long legs high around your waist, heels digging hard into your lower back.
“Give it to me,” she purrs, staring deep into your drunk pupils. “Fuck me deep. I want to feel every hard thrust. Don’t you dare hold back now.”
You drive into her with powerful, relentless strokes.
Hard, fast, deep.
Hard, fast, deep.
Hard, fast, deep.
She meets every thrust with rolling hips, her pussy clenching greedily around you, urging you even deeper.
But it’s not enough for her.
Her legs tighten like a vise around your waist, heels pressing insistently into your back as she pulls you into her with every thrust, forcing your cock even deeper.
“Harder,” she gasps, eyes wild. “Yes — just like that. Pound my pussy. Make me feel it. I want you to ruin me with that cock.”
You lose control.
You start fucking her with desperate, punishing force, giving long, brutal thrusts that slam into her again and again. Her moans rip violently from her mouth with every savage stroke, long dark hair fanning across the black sheets.
She doesn’t just take it.
Her legs lock even tighter around you, ankles crossed behind your back, using her thighs to yank you deeper on every downward plunge. Every time you pull back, she drags you back in, heels digging harder, forcing your cock to bottom out inside her slick, fluttering heat.
“Deeper—fuck, deeper!” she moans, voice breaking into sharp cries. “Don’t pull out so much. Slam it all the way in. I want to feel you in my guts.”
Sweat flies from your bodies. Her pussy clenches and flutters wildly around your cock, greedy and soaking endlessly. She keeps pulling you in with her legs, matching your desperate rhythm, nails raking bloody lines down your back as she urges you on.
“Harder… yes… ruin me,” she gasps between broken moans. “Pound that cock into me. I can take it, give me everything. Don’t you fucking stop.”
You fuck her harder than your hardest, punish her walls with thrusts that border on violent. The sound of your bodies slamming together is filthy and constant. Her inner walls squeeze you so tightly it almost hurts.
“Fuck—right there!” she cries out, voice raw. “Keep pounding me just like that. I’m so close—don’t you dare slow down. Fill me up. Wreck my pussy.”
The orgasm builds like an inferno.
She cums first, body arching sharply off the bed, legs locking painfully tight around you as her walls pulse and spasm around your cock in powerful, rhythmic waves. She screams, “Fuck—I’m cumming—don’t stop—fill me up!”
The intense contractions rip through you. You bury yourself as deep as you can and cum hard, sending pulsing hot and thick waves inside her while she continues those perfect, fluttering squeezes, milking every last drop with devastating skill. Her legs stay locked around you the entire time, refusing to let you pull back even a millimeter.
Afterward she slowly loosens her legs, both of you breathing hard, skin slick with sweat. She traces lazy patterns on your chest with one fingertip and presses a soft, almost tender kiss to your temple, a small satisfied smile spreading on her lips.
Then the sim timer blinks red.
You wake with a jolt on the bar stool, heart racing, every nerve still singing with aftershocks. Your mouth tastes of cherries and jasmine. Between your legs you’re half-hard, sticky, and throbbing as you soften.
You stare at the empty glass.
“Fuck,” you whisper.
Your wrist device is still there. Fingers trembling slightly, you book the next available slot.
Same lounge. Same companion.
Yujin.
You are already hooked.
***
pleasure_protocol.exe (v 1.3.4)
You keep coming back.
You tell yourself it's just one more session to take the edge of your exhaustion off, but the next thing you know, the violet lights are already around you.
And Yujin is already waiting for you.
“Back so soon?” she teases gently, smile carrying slight warmth rather than the professional courtesy you saw yesterday. “Missed forgetting already?”
“Something like that,” you chuckle.
The conversation between her and you flows easier now. She shares fragments of her exhaustion — the endless stream of clients who crave for fantasies they can't have in reality, the way the simulation resets after every session leaves her feeling hollow afterward. You? You talk about your favourite companion alcohol and its accompanying noun habit. You wouldn't be you without one or the other. You also admit how your apartment feels smaller every single night, how your percentage of loneliness is increasing by 1% every single day — it's currently at 1802%.
At one point she asks what you do when you're not here.
“I’m a developer on the simulator enhancements team. We work on amplifying raw emotions and sensations, making everything hit harder, making everything… feel more real inside the simulation.”
You shrug and give a half-bitter smile. “Ironic huh? The one working on improving emotions is seeking for more emotion.”
She looks at you for a moment, something unreadable flashing in her eyes, then simply nods.
“Must be strange, knowing that you're the one trying to make it all feel so… convincing.”
The hunger from last night builds as the conversation gets deeper. The next thing you know, you're both back on the same black bed with the same black sheets and the same dull unripe peach lights.
But the touches feel heavier and more addictive, even though it's just a day that has passed without any firmware update. Your hands map her body, palms sliding up her waist, cupping her breasts, thumbs brushing her nipples until they harden. Her? She kisses you like she's been starving for months. Tongue dancing across your lips, teeth grazing your neck, lips suckling your chest.
Clothes vanish quickly and she pushes you onto your back. She turns around this time round, straddling you in reverse cowgirl. She grabs your cock and guides it to her entrance, sinking down slowly until her scorching heat envelopes you fully.
She starts riding you quickly, rocking her hips with snapping force, not before rising until only the head remains inside her and slamming down. From this angle, you have a perfect view of her ass bouncing, her slick pussy stretching around your cock, her long dark hair cascading down her back.
“Mmm… look at you,” she purrs, glancing back over her shoulder with a wicked little smile. “Already so hard for me again. Did you think about this pussy all day?”
She keeps bouncing, ass slapping loudly against your hips with every drop. Sweat beads on her skin. Her thighs flex powerfully as she rides you faster.
“You like the view back there?” she teases, voice breathy but playful. “Watching my ass bounce while I fuck myself on your cock? Bet you never get tired of that sight.”
You grip her hips and start thrusting up to meet her, driving deeper on every downward bounce. She moans louder, clearly enjoying your loss of control.
“Oh? Getting eager now?” she laughs softly, still bouncing. “Go on then, fuck into me. I love it when you go crazy for me. Show me how badly you love my tight little pussy.”
The sensations go crazy. She bends forward onto the bed and slams her hips down with long, powerful strokes while you thrust up into her, the two of you colliding over and over again. Her firm ass cheeks spread wider with the new position, and you grab on to them lifting and pushing her down onto you while her inner walls flutter and squeeze without pause.
“Fuck… that’s it,” she gasps. “Keep going. I love feeling you lose it underneath me. You’re getting so deep. Are you trying to ruin me already?”
When it becomes too much for you to hold on, she slides off and gets on all fours, arching her back deeply and pushing her ass toward you.
You move behind instantly, gripping her hips and sliding back inside her in one smooth thrust. The doggy position lets you go even deeper, the angle perfect for powerful, primal strokes.
You start fucking her hard — as if you weren't hard before — slamming relentlessly until she moans into the sheets. If there's anything you understand about Yujin from these two days, she's not passive when it comes to sex, clearly understanding that it takes two hands to clap. She pushes back against you, meeting every slam, her ass rippling with each impact.
“Harder,” she demands. “Come on, don’t be gentle. I can take it. Weren’t you rougher yesterday?”
You give it to her, hips snapping forward again and again. She keeps pushing back, clenching around you, urging you deeper. “That’s better,” she moans, pushing back even harder. “Fuck—I can feel you so deep like this. You like having me on all fours? Like owning this pussy from behind?”
You pound her mercilessly, one hand sliding up her back to grip her shoulder for leverage, the other reaching around to rub her clit in circles. Her moans turn sharper, more desperate.
“Don’t slow down,” she gasps. “I’m so close—keep pounding me just like that. Make me scream for you.”
Then she shatters. Her body shakes and her walls clenches, sending waves of wet and hot liquid all around your cock.
“Fuck — I’m coming… don’t stop — fill me up!”
You bury yourself as deep as you can and cum inside her, growling deep as you fuck your cum into her milking pussy.
Afterward you both collapse onto the bed, breathing hard. You press a kiss to her shoulder. In the quiet moment, you whisper almost too softly, “Is this real?” The question hangs for half a second, then dissolves when the other leans in for another kiss.
You both push the thought away.
That night you log out later than the day before. The world outside is still raining. You wait under a bus stop outside the cheap public node station, heart pounding harder than any simulation has ever made.
Then you see her.
Yujin steps out of the node station with a real coat on her real shoulders, real face softer and more vulnerable than what you've seen from before.
She sees you and stops.
Something electric snaps in the air between you.
You don’t think. You just move.
You don't know why, but you cross the distance in three measured gaits, rain dripping from your hair, and pull her into you. The kiss is urgent and frantic despite connecting with your bodies earlier, but as your mouths crash together, you find your tongues sliding hot and messy, teeth grazing each other in the rush. Her hands grab and crumple your wet shirt, pulling you closer like she’s afraid you’ll disappear. You grip her waist hard, pushing and backing her against the node station wall as the rain pours down around you both.
It’s not a gentle smooch. It's a warming desperate kiss. Real lips, cold from the rain, tasting faintly of cherry. Real breath gasping against your mouth. Real fingers digging into your shoulders. Her body presses flush against yours, heartbeat thumping wildly against your chest.
When you finally break apart, both of you are breathing hard, foreheads pressed together. Rain streams down your faces and for a second, neither of you speaks.
pleasure_doubt_protocol.exe (v 1.8.12)
Your “dates” with her now transit between worlds. Some nights in the violet lounge, other nights you find each other in reality — at the expense of any small pockets of available time you both have, of course.
A late-night supper where the noodles are boiling hot and the lights are too bright, not before you're balls deep in her by the alley. A quiet bench under flickering streetlamps where rain pitter-patters on your shared umbrella while you sit on plastic bags to keep your pants dry. The next thing you know, you're pumping up into her tight cunt behind the bushes. The contrast sharpens everything: the sim feels warmer, more forgiving; reality feels rawer, more fragile.
Sex escalates naturally between you both. It grows more intense and vulnerable as you both feel more deeply connected.
In the simulation one evening she pushes you down and takes control completely, pinning your hands above your head while she rides you fervently. You unload every drop inside her.
Later, in reality, you pull her into the narrow alley behind her node station, tasting her right there and then with her coat half-open and your knees on the ground. She cums with a muffled cry, fingers twisted in your wet hair.
Sometimes in the simulation, vulnerability between you both deepens. You make love facing each other, eyes never leaving one another as you grind your sexes slowly and intensely. Her legs wrap around you tight, each thrust filled with passion, each breath filled with intention. She whispers how good you feel, how she doesn’t want the session to end. You tell her the same between kisses, hands mapping every curve like you’re afraid the code might forget.
Yet the subtle unease creeps in anyway.
After one particularly intense night, a quiet question surfaces in your mind: Are these feelings just simulation bleed?
Are the feelings you feel in reality a consequence of the amplified emotions from the simulations?
The way her touch lingers in your real nerves even hours after logout.
The way your heart races when you see her avatar before she even speaks.
The way you smile when you lace your fingers under the night sky.
Are they real, or are they an after-effect?
The codes that you work with every day surge out of your mind. Are what you're feeling just 1s and 0s? Is it the same for her?
You push the thoughts away, tightening your arms around her instead.
Yujin has her own onion layers to peel.
Once, after you’ve both come down from a slow, shuddering orgasm in the real world (your small apartment), she lies quiet for longer than usual.
“Sometimes I wonder if I can still feel anything real anymore,” she murmurs. “Everything’s been paid for so long… but this feels different.”
She pauses, then laughs softly to herself, “Or maybe I’m just doubting myself again. Maybe I’m the one who’s broken and can’t tell the difference anymore. Or maybe I’m doubting you too, wondering if you only feel this because you helped build the code that makes feelings feel stronger.”
“Are my doubts being amplified?” She shakes her head, as if trying to shake the thought loose. “See? Even my doubts have doubts now.”
She doesn’t elaborate further. You don’t press, because you don't know either.
The doubt stays mostly hidden, tucked beneath layers of genuine closeness. You share laughter in the diner when she steals fries from your plate. You hold her hand during a slow walk along the riverfront, thumbs brushing in quiet affection. In the sim you experiment with new positions — her bouncing on your cock while you stand and carry-fuck her, or both of you standing, her braced against the wall as she takes you from behind with deep thrusts that make her cry out.
Every encounter still feels connected, sensual and addictive like the first. The hunger hasn’t faded. If anything, it has grown roots.
One especially intense night you meet in the customized sim room. Everything goes the same, your cock in her mouth, her hips rocking against your tongue. When neither of you can wait any longer you both fuck each other until your orgasms hit you both almost simultaneously.
When you're both gasping and coming down from your high, forehead pressed against each other, she whispers:
“Next time, let’s try something more… real.”
She doesn’t explain what she means.
And for the first time, the roots of your shallow infatuation dig into the doubt layered beneath.
***
pleasure_doubt_protocol.exe (v 2.4.19)
You agree to the fully real-world date with an unsettling kind of hope that already feels dangerous.
It was her idea.
No simulation.
No script.
No safety net of code.
No sex.
Nothing but a date.
Just the two of you, ordinary and exposed.
You meet outside a café along a quiet side street where it's drizzling. It always rains when you both are together.
Yujin arrives first, wearing a simple black coat over a soft gray crop top and dark jeans. It's nothing extravagant, nothing designed to seduce. When she sees you, her smile is small and genuine.
“Hey,” she says with that same low warmth you know from every private room session, but yet today she sounds more fragile. You already know what today is about.
“Hey,” you reply.
The date unfolds tenderly on the surface.
Inside the café the air is warm and fragrant with caffeine. You sit across from each other at a polished wooden table. The conversation flows easier than you expect — were you expecting it to not be? It's the same small talk you both always have, light stories about ridiculous clients she’s had, your latest corporate drudgery enhancing emotional algorithms in the very simulations you both escape into.
But it feels different. It feels… lighter.
She laughs when you describe a glitch that turned an entire luxury lounge into a potato farm for three hours. You steal glances at the way her eyes crinkle, at the small scar on her knuckle she got from real life, not there in the code life she has.
After coffee chat you walk together along the river, when the rain has finally eased into a cool, fine mist. Streetlamps cast golden halos on the wet pavement like checkpoints, making your heart thump harder when you leave one, making your heart calm slightly when you reach the next one.
You both don't say anything during the walk.
Your fingers brush on the seventeenth checkpoint, then intertwine naturally on the nineteenth. Her hand feels warm and solid in yours. It’s a temperature that feels non-simulated. Just real skin, real pulse.
After the 43rd golden checkpoint, you stop under a bridge where the lights are softer. She turns to you, hands grabbing on to your collars. You lean in and kiss her. Her lips taste faintly of the coffee she drank earlier. Or is it the lingering caffeine from yours? You dig deeper to find out. Her hands slide up your chest to rest at the back of your neck. The kiss stretches unhurried, real breath mingling, real heartbeats close enough to feel.
On the surface it is perfect. Tender. Ordinary in the best way.
Inside, the doubt begins to surface more noticeably.
As you walk again, her hand is still in yours, but your mind keeps drifting to the system you know too well. You develop the very enhancements that make simulated emotions feel indistinguishable from real ones. You’ve seen how residual data bleeds into reality, how an avatar’s learned behaviors can leak into logged-out states, how emotional subroutines can plague long after the session ends.
Every gentle squeeze of her fingers makes you wonder: Is this genuine, or is it residual code bleeding into reality?
The thought sticks like glue that doesn't let go. You love her and you feel it sharp and clear, but the knowledge of the system you created poisons your feelings. You pull back emotionally even while your body stays present.
Your grip loosens ever so slightly.
Your breath hitches a millisecond.
Your eyes waver a millimeter.
Yujin feels it.
She has been numb to paid touch for so long that this — real café date, real walk, real kisses without timers or cash deposition — feels different.
Profoundly different.
Or that's what you think she thinks.
Her feelings surge inside her chest, terrifying in their clarity. She wants to tell you how safe she feels with you, how the numbness inside of her has faded and something thumping has taken its place.
You're assuming everything at this point.
But she senses your withdrawal, the subtle distance in your eyes, the way your laughter fades a little too quickly. She interprets it as rejection, as the inevitable moment when reality fails to live up to the sim.
Is this what she's thinking?
You see her frown at you, perhaps thinking: Maybe I’m just doubting myself again. Maybe I’m the one who’s broken and can’t tell the difference anymore. Or maybe he’s right to doubt me. After all, I’m the one who’s spent years letting code tell me what pleasure feels like.
She doesn’t communicate anything in her mind. She keeps her own feelings guarded, smiling softly instead, squeezing your hand once before letting the silence stretch. In her mind the doubts probably layered on top of each other: doubting him, doubting herself, even doubting her own doubts.
And it goes the same for you.
Are you doubting her?
Is she doubting herself?
Are these doubts even true?
Who made up these doubts?
The growing gap widens without a single raised voice.
You end the night at the entrance to her node station. The rain has picked up again, heavy like hail pelting on the awning above you. You pull her close for one last lingering kiss, deep and slow, full of everything unsaid, full of everything unclarified. Her body presses against yours, real and warm, but the emotional current feels strained, like two frequencies drifting out of sync.
When you finally part, she looks at you for a long moment. She doesn’t ask to stay over. She doesn’t suggest another date. She simply touches your cheek once, gently, and says, “Goodnight, Jae.”
Then she turns and walks into the station, coat swaying, shoulders straight but somehow smaller.
Your chest aches with a hollow kind of longing. Already the doubt is amplified.
Was any of it real?
Or was I just chasing code that learned how to feel like love?
***
pleasure_doubt_protocol.exe (v 2.9.27)
The looming doubt from the real-world date does not fade. It festers.
You drink heavily now, bottles lining up on the kitchen counter. The doubt explodes inside you like ever since that night. Every memory you made with her fractures under the cold knowledge of the countless codes and grids you developed. And you? You swallow yourself into work, writing more code, amplifying more emotions, making simulated pleasure feel more and even more. You delete your sim access in a drunken rage one night, then reinstall it the next morning with shaking hands. You accept the promotion that arose from a successful 357% increment of emotion enhancement. Material security over emotional risk, you tell yourself.
Yujin reacts the opposite way.
She chases harder in the simulations, desperate to prove the connection is real. She messages you relentlessly through the public nodes until you log in again. When you finally do, she pulls you into a heavily customized private room and immediately conjures something she has never done before.
“Tonight I need you to feel me,” she says, voiced laced with a trembling raw urgency. “Not the sim. Not the code. Me. All of me. Even if I have to become more than one to make you believe.”
She crashes into you, kissing you hard. Then, with a flick of her wrist and a shimmer in the air, a second Yujin appears beside the bed — identical, naked, eyes burning with the same desperate desire.
The first Yujin straddles your face instantly. “Eat me,” she demands, lowering her dripping pussy onto your mouth. “Make me cum while my other self fucks you senseless.”
You grip her thighs without hesitation and bury your tongue into her folds, licking broad and messy stripes up and down, sucking hard on her swollen clit. She grinds down shamelessly onto you, riding your mouth with wet and slick sounds. At the same time, the second Yujin grabs onto your legs and lifts them, folding your thighs onto your chest. She then grabs your cock and bends it towards her, guiding it to her entrance. She pushes her snatch forward and envelopes you fully.
She starts pounding into you immediately — long, powerful, relentless strokes. Rising until only the head remains inside her, then slamming onto you hard, taking every thick inch. Her breasts bounce with every snap of her hips as she fucks you. “Fuck… you’re so thick,” the second Yujin gasps, thrusting harder and faster. “Stretching my pussy open every single time I pound you. I know you’re doubting this. I know you’re doubting me. But feel how real my pussy is gripping you while I ride you. Feel how wet I am even when you think I’m fake.”
She keeps on fucking you with ferocity, hammering her pussy onto you that never seem to slow. Her thighs slap loudly against yours with every impact. Sweat glistens on her skin. Her thighs flex powerfully as she presses onto you faster.
“Still doubting me?” she taunts, looking down at you while the first Yujin grinds on your face. “Still think this is all code? Then why is your cock throbbing so hard inside me? Why is your tongue still licking my pussy like you’re starving?”
The first Yujin moans loudly with her still stuck on your face. “That’s it—eat my pussy while I fuck you. Taste how real I am. I am real. I am dripping for you even when you doubt everything.”
The second Yujin fucks you even harder, hips snapping down with a seductive force, her pussy clenching rhythmically around your cock in an attempt to claim you as hers. “I know you’re scared. I know you think our feelings are just amplified data. But feel this, feel me bouncing on your cock, milking you, using you. This is me trying to fuck the doubt out of you.”
You can’t hold back anymore. The combined pleasure rips through you. You groan into the first Yujin’s pussy as you cum hard, pulsing thick and hot inside the second one. She keeps fucking your cock through your orgasm, milking every drop with continuous tight, wrenching squeezes.
But they’re not done.
The second Yujin slides off, and with another shimmer, a third Yujin appears. Now there are three identical versions of her.
They reposition and flip you onto all fours.
One Yujin kneels in front of you and grabs your hair, and pushes a thick conjured strapon into your mouth. Another slides beneath you, guiding your still-hard cock into her dripping pussy, and starts grinding up into you. The third moves behind you, pressing her strap-on against your ass, and pushes in deep in one smooth thrust.
You are completely spit-roasted.
The Yujin in your mouth fucks your throat with slow, deep strokes. “Suck it,” she purrs. “Suck my cock while you fuck my pussy and take mine in your ass. I know you’re doubting everything. I know you think none of this is real. So feel it. All of it.”
The one beneath you rolls her hips upwards, taking you deep into her cunt. “Still doubting us?” she moans. “Still think our love is just simulated? Then why is your cock so hard inside me? Why are you leaking while we fuck you?”
The one behind you pounds your ass with long, relentless pushes and pulls, her hips slapping against you. “I know you’re doubting me. I know you’re doubting yourself. I know you’re even doubting your own doubts. But feel my cock wrecking your ass. Feel how real it is when I fuck you like this.”
All three move in perfect, overwhelming sync. The one at the back pushing into you, slamming you forward into the pussy beneath you, thrusting you forward into the cock at your mouth. When she pulls back, the one in front fucks into your mouth, pushing your ass back onto her, sliding you out of the pussy below you. They fuck your mouth, your cock, and your ass at the same time. The Yujin behind you reaches around and jerks your cock in time with her brutal thrusts.
“Still think this is fake?” she growls, pounding harder. “Still think I’m just code? Then why is your cock twitching in her pussy? Why is your throat taking my cock so eagerly? I’m going to fuck every doubt out of you until you believe me.”
The pounding is merciless and long. You don’t know how much time has passed despite the amplified focus and awareness. The one in your ass slams into you again and again, deep, punishing strokes that hammer your prostate. The one beneath you grinds up into you, her pussy clenching greedily. The one in your mouth fucks your throat with steady, deep thrusts.
Your body begins to shake.
Your eyes roll into whites.
“Cum for us,” the one beneath you moans. “Fill my pussy while we use you. Prove you can still feel something real even when you doubt everything.”
The overwhelming sensation pushes you over the edge again. You cum hard, groaning around the cock in your mouth as you spill deep into the Yujin beneath you. All three versions moan in unison, their bodies trembling with you as they keep fucking you through your orgasm.
Only then do they slowly pull away, the extra copies shimmering out of existence until only the original Yujin remains, collapsing over your back, breathing hard.
She kisses the back of your neck.
“Did you feel that? That was real. We’re real. Please… believe me.”
You lie there, heart hammering, aftershocks still rippling through your spent body.
But even as the sensations feel stronger and more intense than before, the doubt is louder than ever. To you right now, everything feels… distant. Even the most extreme, overwhelming pleasure feels like data. Recorded, rendered, repeatable. You gently ease away from her, muttering something about needing air, and log out before she can stop you.
***
doubt_protocol.exe (v 3.10.8)
You log out while she is still reaching for you, the ghost of her fingers brushing empty air. The real world slams back in and you're back in the cold apartment, half-empty alcohol bottle on the table. Your body is still trembling with your ass sore, cock spent, skin sticky with sweat and lube and her. But none of it feels real anymore. It feels like data.
You delete your sim access again that night. This time you don’t reinstall it for three full days.
When you finally log back in, it is only because her messages have become frantic, short, desperate.
Please.
Just talk to me.
I’m scared.
The neutral public lounge is almost empty. Yujin is already there, standing in the middle of the empty space like she has been waiting forever. Her avatar looks smaller than you remember. Shoulders slightly hunched. Eyes red-rimmed even through perfect rendering. The sight of her hits you harder than any thrust ever could.
She steps forward the moment she sees you.
“Jae…”
You stop a few steps away. The distance feels both necessary and unbearable.
She tries to smile, but it wobbles and dies. “I keep replaying that night. The way you felt under me… around me. The way you came while I was still inside you. The way I made another version of myself just to overwhelm your doubts. It was real. I felt it. I know it.” Her hands tremble at her sides. “Why won’t you let yourself feel it too?”
You look at her, at the woman who chose you in a cheap public sim because your despair felt familiar, at the woman who rode you like she was trying to save both of you, at the woman who literally multiplied herself because she was terrified of losing you.
Something inside your chest splinters.
“I can’t,” you whisper, tears flowing from your eyes.
The words come out raw, dug from the deepest part of you.
“I can’t risk it anymore. I develop the enhancements that make simulated emotions feel more real than reality. I’ve seen how one night of intense connection gets written into the residual data and leaks out into the next session. How perfectly the system can learn to say ‘I love you’ so that it feels indistinguishable from the truth.”
“What if that’s all this is? What if I’m in love with code that got too good at pretending?”
Tears spill down her cheeks now. She doesn’t wipe them away.
“So you’re telling me everything we did, every time I came apart for you, every time you held me after, every real-world kiss in the rain, even when I brought another version of myself just to prove I’m real, none of it was enough to prove I’m real to you?”
Her voice rises, not in anger but in pure, aching desperation and sadness.
“I was numb for years, Jae. Paid touch, paid moans, paid smiles. Then you walked in drunk and quiet and looking like the world had already ended for you… and something woke up inside me. Something that hurt. Something that wanted you. I chose you. Not the credits. Not my clients. You.”
She takes one step closer. Her hand lifts, hovers, then drops again when she sees you flinch.
“I begged you with my body that night. I let you see every raw, messy, desperate part of me, even when I split myself in two just to fuck the doubt out of you. And you still choose doubt?”
Her breath hitches on a sob she tries to swallow. “I kept looking for proof that our love was real… and all along the proof was that I kept looking. That I kept coming back even when it terrified me. Even when I started doubting myself, doubting you, doubting my own doubts.”
The silence that follows is worse than any scream.
The breakdown crashes over you like a wave you can’t outrun. Your chest tightens until breathing hurts. Your hands shake violently. You want to reach for her. You want to pull her close, bury your face in her neck, tell her you’re sorry, that you’re terrified, that you love her so much it feels like dying.
But the fear is louder.
The knowledge of the system is louder.
And now the regret starts to eat you alive.
“I’d rather feel nothing,” you say, “than feel something that might not be real.”
The words land like a blade between you.
Yujin’s face crumples completely. A soft, broken sound escapes her and she presses both hands over her mouth as if she can hold the pain inside. Tears stream freely now. Her shoulders shake.
For one terrible moment she just stands there, looking at you like you have killed something precious between you.
Then she straightens slowly, as if every movement costs her everything.
“Fine,” she whispers. “Then I’ll disappear where the code can’t lie to you anymore. Where even you can’t doubt what’s left of me.”
She takes one last look at you, eyes still full of love and grief and quiet devastation, and turns away.
“Maybe when I'm gone, you’ll understand that your love and my love… our love… were never doubts.”
Her avatar begins to dissolve, pixel by pixel. Her status log lights up in your eyes. Gone was the cheap public node Yujin. She has contracted into a high-paying, long-term immersion contract. A place where the system owns every second, every thought, every simulated heartbeat for months, maybe years.
No more public lounges.
No more stolen real-world kisses.
No more chances.
You reach out instinctively, hand closing on empty air.
“Yujin—”
But she is already gone.
***
doubt_protocol.exe (v 3.11.2569)
Months later.
The apartment is quieter than it has any right to be. You are sober now.
Painfully, relentlessly sober.
The bottles are gone.
The trembling in your hands has mostly stopped.
You go to work every day in the simulation maintenance division, your corporate ID badge clipped to your chest. You spend your shifts monitoring grid stability, patching residual bleed, fine-tuning the very emotional amplifiers you once helped design.
You tell yourself you are fine.
Most days you almost believe it.
Until tonight.
3rd November, 2569
A ghost signal appears on one of the private monitoring channels. It's the creation of an unauthorised private world, buried deep in the unused layers. The access tag is simple. Just two words. Her name. The one you whispered against her skin every night.
Your heart stutters. Your fingers hover over the console for a long moment before you log in.
The transition is gentle this time. No cheap lurch, no static hiss.
It is the exact recreation of your real-world date.
The small café with its soft caffeine smell. The river walk hazy with mist. All 43 golden checkpoints under the path to the bridge where you missed. Even the fine drizzle hangs in the air, soft and familiar. But the space is empty. No avatars. No distant city sounds. Just the rain, the light, and the hollow echo of your own footsteps.
You walk the path you took that night. Every detail is perfect. The seventeenth where your hand brushed hers, the nineteenth where your fingers intertwined with hers, the bench where you stopped under the bridge and kissed, the awning where you said goodnight and watched her walk away.
Your chest tightens until breathing hurts.
You walk back to the bench underneath the bridge, sitting at the same spot where you kissed her. Everything is the same, except for the fact that she is not there anymore.
Then a plain envelope fades into view beside you. Inside is a single cheap paper bookmark, the kind sold at node stations. On it, is her familiar, slightly slanted handwriting:
I kept looking for proof that our love was real.
I never realised the proof was that I kept looking.
I love you.
-Yujin
You stare at the words until they blur.
The regret you thought had settled into something manageable surges back, sharper than ever. It hits you like a physical blow. Your knees buckle and your hand presses to the center of your chest as if you could hold the breaking pieces together.
You loved her.
God, you loved her.
You loved the way she chose you when you were nothing but a drunk shadow in a cheap sim.
You loved the raw hunger in her voice when she rode you like salvation.
You loved the quiet vulnerability in her eyes the night she suggested something more real.
You loved her real lips tasting of coffee and rain.
You loved the way she split herself just to prove she was real.
You loved her enough to destroy her.
And you let doubt win.
A low, broken sound tears out of you. It's not a sob this time, but something deeper, more animal. You sink to your knees on the wet pavement, fingers crumpling useless at the bookmark.
The rain keeps falling, soft and indifferent, exactly as it did the night you first kissed her in reality.
Each drop feels like an accusation.
Each drop feels like a judgement.
Each drop feels like the doubt you never casted aside.
You see her face again in your head again. The way it crumpled when you said you’d rather feel nothing. The way she stepped back, shoulders small and defeated, before dissolving into the grid. You imagine her now, locked inside some long-term immersion contract, surrounded by strangers who will never know the woman who laughed at your stupid potato-farm glitch story, who traced circles on your chest after sex, who literally multiplied herself because she was terrified of losing you.
You destroyed that.
You destroyed her.
Because you were too afraid to risk believing something beautiful might actually be real.
The regret is endless. It coils around your ribs, squeezes until you can’t breathe, until fresh tears burn down your face and mix with the rain. You stay there on your knees for what feels like hours, whispering her name into the empty world like a prayer no one will answer.
“I’m sorry,” you choke out. “I’m so fucking sorry, Yujin. I was wrong. It was real. You were real. I just… I was too scared.”
But the words reach no one.
The system gives its final warning: Idle timeout in sixty seconds.
You don’t move.
Thirty seconds.
You press your forehead to the cold, wet ground, shoulders shaking with silent, wrenching sobs.
Ten seconds.
The world begins to fade.
As the private realm logs you out, the last thing you see is her handwriting, soft and steady against the rain.
I love you.
Not loved.
Love.
Then darkness.
You never log in again.
***
A/N #2: I'm sorry I had to end this on a sad end but I felt that it was the best course for this piece. For those of you who are really interested in an alternate ending, you can check out this link here:
love_protocol.exe (v 4.0.0)
A/N #3: Thank you for reading this series. It's not exactly a series??? Moreso a compilation of oneshots for each of the IVE members. Although, I would say that the theme of this series explores the inherent six emotional tone of the six different members.
Delusion. Silence. Control. Chaos. Doubt. Youth.
I hope I conveyed these emotions and core concepts well that resonates with you, and made you feel something. It was honestly a very fun experience writing them, and I looked deeper into what makes a character a character and I hope you've taken away some 'lessons' about life as well!
Thank you all my readers for supporting me, and every comment that you leave really spurs me to write more, do better and of course write more emotionally impactful pieces.
pI'll see you in my future works!
—AutumnyAcorn
Which was your favourite path?
Path of Delusion (IVE's Jang Wonyoung)
Path of Control (IVE's Naoi Rei)
Path of Chaos (IVE's Leeseo / Lee Hyunseo)
Path of Silence (IVE's Kim Gaeul)
Path of Youth (IVE's Liz / Kim Jiwon / Elizabeth Helga Muller)
A/N: We are upon the penultimate path into the blackhole. Enjoy!
“You're still young. There's plenty of time to try new things, so relax and enjoy the ride.”
That's what your mother used to say every time you talked to her about an overseas exchange program, a new hobby, and your first date. She said it with a soft smile, like youth was a long, gentle river you could float down without hurry.
But that was years ago.
And now? Now your mother's saying something entirely different.
“You’re not young anymore. Time to get attached. When am I going to get my grandchild?”
The words land like a quiet slap every time she calls. She doesn't say it meanly. She says it tiredly, worriedly, like she's watching sand slip through an hourglass she can't flip back over. You've always wanted to argue back and say that it was her who conditioned your mindset, but she's not wrong. Is it wrong to take things slow?
You still don’t know the answer.
There's no wrong in taking it easy and going with the flow. You're doing fine right now, in fact, you're much better off than you expected. A good job, stable life, a nice apartment that you own.
The only thing missing is a partner — and you’re in no rush to find one.
But tonight you're not thinking about your mother.
Tonight you're thinking about how you ended up here.
Your friends tricked you into this group blind date.
“Low pressure,” they said.
“Just come hang out. Free food. You might meet someone nice.”
They didn’t mention there would be eight people, half of them already half-drunk, and that “nice” apparently meant “loud.”
The restaurant is one of those trendy spots with neon signs and overpriced cocktails. The table is long and narrow, voices overlapping like the stack of messy papers on your office desk.
Your friends are in full playboy mode, leaning in, flashing grins, tossing flirty one-liners at the girls across from them.
The girls laugh in response, some genuine, some polite.
And you? You sit near the end quiet, sipping your water, nod when spoken to, answer in short sentences.
You’re not rude. You’re just… not performing.
Across from you is Liz. She’s the loudest one here, but not in an obnoxious way. She’s the one who ordered the spiciest ramen on the menu “because why not,” then immediately regrets it and downs three glasses of milk while laughing at herself.
“Okay okay okay,” she announces, slamming the empty milk glass down. “New game. Drink if it’s false. Never have I ever eaten instant ramen for breakfast.”
A common thing that everyone has done. Everyone on the table groans and drinks. You raise your glass of beer reluctantlyp.
“Losers! I win!” Liz laughs sniggers goofily, hands tapping on each other like an otter.
One of your friends, the loudest playboy, leans towards her with a smirk.
“Never have I ever kissed someone on the first date.”
Liz drinks dramatically, along with the rest that chugs their share down.
“Oh~ You've kissed before?” your friend asks with his eyebrows raised.
“Duh. Life’s too short.”
The table erupts in cheers and teasing, all nodding as they reminisce.
She grins, then glances at you.
“You didn’t drink,” she says, pointing. “First-date kiss virgin?”
You shrug. “Haven’t had the right first date yet.”
Her eyes light up.
“Ooh, mysterious. I like that. Have you even kissed before?”
You shake your head and shrug.
“He’s always like this,” your friend says. “Quiet guy. Girls love it until they realize he’s actually boring.”
Liz tilts her head at him.
“Or maybe he’s just waiting for someone interesting enough to talk to.”
Your friend blinks at the attention Liz is giving you and the table quiets for half a second.
Then Liz bursts out laughing.
“I’m kidding! Kidding! Don’t look so offended.”
But she’s still looking at you, longer this time. You almost feel as if she's boring a hole into your heart with her gaze.
The rest of dinner is chaos: more games, more drinks, more stories. Just the usual as to how a usual group blind date or any drinking party would go. Liz keeps pulling everyone in, making the shy girl next to her talk, challenging your friend to a chopstick-eating contest (he loses), telling a ridiculous story about the time she tried to “taste the rainbow” with illegal spicy candy and ended up in the ER.
Every now and then she glances at you again.
It's not a flirty glance. Just… curious.
When the bill comes and the group starts splitting up, she lingers.
Outside, the night air is cool. Neon glows from the restaurant spills onto the sidewalk. Your friends are already walking ahead, some exchanging numbers, others wobbling drunkenly. You spot your friend talking to Liz by the side, most likely asking for her number, but you see her shaking her head.
Rejected.
Your friend looks at you and smiles sheepishly, before walking away into the fading light.
Liz falls into step beside you as you head towards the train station.
“Hey,” she says. “You were pretty quiet in there.”
You shrug. “Not much of a talker.”
She grins unapologetically. “I noticed. It was kinda hot, actually.”
You blink.
She laughs at your expression — not mean, just delighted.
“Okay, fine. That sounded weird. But seriously. Everyone else was trying so hard to be funny or cool or whatever. You were just… cool. It was nice.”
She stops walking. So do you.
The street is noisy with cars, distant music, and salarymen spilling out of bars, but right here it feels like a bubble.
She rocks on her heels, looking at the ground before blurting: “Let’s go on a date.”
You open your mouth, then close it.
She rushes on before you can speak.
“I promise I won’t make you ride the scariest rollercoaster… maybe. Just one date. If it’s boring we never speak again. Deal?”
She sticks out her pinky.
You stare at it.
Now you're thinking about your mother.
Her voice echoes in your head — the new one, not the old one.
“You’re not young anymore. Time to get attached. When am I going to get my grandchild?”
You look at Liz. Her eyes are bright, cheeks a little pink from the cold, and alcohol (or maybe her nerves?), hair messy from all the laughing and exaggerated movements the entire night.
“Just to see,” you sigh, raising your pinky up.
Her face lights up and she squeals. “Yes!” She hooks her pinky around yours, shaking it vigorously. “Tomorrow! I already have an idea~”
She takes your phone which you graciously unlock to allow her to input her number, before bouncing once on her toes. She makes a small spin and runs to catch up with her friends, yelling over her shoulder with a wide smile.
“Don’t ghost me, mysterious quiet guy!”
You stand there for a second, pinky still outstretched, mind still dazed from the turn of events.
Then you smile.
You have a date.
***
<Liz 🌀, 08:17> GOOD MORNING MYSTERIOUS QUIET GUY!!
<Liz 🌀, 08:17> Ready for round 1? Meet me at 6 sharp. Wear comfy shoes and bring your brave faceeee~
You should have known better. Liz blasted you with messages the next morning… and somehow, you already feel the pull.
You stare at the messages for a whole minute and 28 seconds, thumb hovering. She's pretty, but she's lively, a bit too much in fact.
But your mother’s voice creeps in again.
Not young anymore… Grandchild… When…
You sigh and move your thumbs.
<You, 08:20> Okay
A simple, short and curt reply.
Her message comes immediately after.
<Liz 🌀, 08.20> What? That's it? Just an ‘Okay’?
<Liz 🌀, 08.20> Geez you're not even trying, but you're so god damn cool. Didn't even bother to ask where huh?
You panic a little at your blunder and try to send a reply, but it's a little too late. Right as you press send, her message comes in before yours.
<Liz 🌀, 08.20> Seoul Station, Exit 15
<You, 08:21> Where?
You rub your temple once, half-exasperated, half-amused.
<Liz 🌀, 08:21> Ahahahahaha
<Liz 🌀, 08:21> You're so slow lmao
<You, 08:21> …
<Liz 🌀, 08.21> Anyway, see you later~
You look at the messages and sigh. Your fingers move and tap into her contact that she saved. Thumbs dancing, she’s now known as: “Whirlwind 🌀”.
Bubbly, lively and energetic.
Nothing like you.
Nothing like how you imagined your first date to be.
But you're smiling.
The day passes by in a blur and once the work day is done, you're already on the way to the agreed upon meet up location.
You arrive at Seoul Station Exit 15 at 5.55 p.m. The crowd is thick with salarymen like you rushing home, students in uniforms, tourists with maps, but you spot her instantly.
Liz is leaning against a pillar, one foot propped up, scrolling her phone with one hand while the other waves a tiny red flag she definitely bought from a street vendor just for this moment. Does she even know what a red flag means? It's as though she's advertising herself as one. When she sees you she squeals, and it's an actual squeal, runs over, nearly tripping on her own shoelaces.
“You’re early!” she exclaims, eyes wide. “Like, actually early! I thought you’d be the type to show up at 6:01 just to be safe.”
You shrug. “I don’t like being late.”
“That's so responsible. I love it,” she beams at you. “Okay, come on!” she grabs your wrist (not your hand — your wrist, like she's leading a puppy on a walk) and starts pulling you toward the escalators.
“Where are we going?”
“Devil Tteokbokki Challenge!” she announces like it’s a national holiday. “It’s only two stops away. You ready to cry?”
You’re already regretting saying yes, but you don’t pull away.
The Devil Tteokbokki place is small and fluorescent-lit, but it’s packed with patrons. But these aren't the main things to worry about. What you’re worried about is the heavy smell of fire and regret that's choking the air.
There’s a giant red devil head on the wall with a speech bubble: “No time limit. If you finish Hell Level, free photo on the Wall of Victory! Otherwise, Wall of Shame!”
Liz signs the waiver without reading it.
You though, read it carefully.
She doesn't wait and orders Hell Level for both of you.
“You sure?” you ask again.
“We’re in this together,” she grins. “Teamwork makes the dream work!”
“...” you stare at her, before setting down the wavier. “Yea…”
The bowls arrive, and they're bright red and steaming, looking like the boiling pot of punishment in whatever level of hell that you can't remember — not that remembering it would save you.
Liz doesn't wait and takes one bite, eyes going wide then immediately starts fanning her mouth, mouthing breathy cavemen ooh ooh ahh ahh noises in an attempt to expel the hotness in her mouth.
“Sheesh, it burnt my tongue…” she wheezes, trying to cool it down in her mouth. “I forgot it was just out of the pot.”
You look at her antics, grinning a little.
“It's not that bad though?” you say, savouring the first piece. Sure, it's spicy, but it's well rounded and sweet at the start, followed by a nice umami in the middle, then—oh fuck.
cough cough cough
You're fucking choking from the sharp spiciness. Liz is in no better shape, choking on the lingering spiciness of the sauce.
cough cough cough
“Oh my god oh my god oh my god—” Liz cries, cheeks and nose red from the capsaicin invading her pain receptors.
You're already drinking your glass of milk, hoping that it will help with reducing the pain, but Liz has already downed hers, before obnoxiously snatching and drinking the remaining of yours.
Apparently the extra half glass of milk helped, and she's now laughing so hard at your plight that she almost falls off her chair. You look at her teary eyed, fire unextinguished in your mouth. You cough and try to reach for water, but your eyes water further.
“You’re crying! Oh my god, you’re crying again!”
You manage a weak glare through the tears.
She hands you her glass of warm water, still giggling.
“Here, hero. Warm water is more effective than cold water.”
You take it from her and drink. The burn fades ever so slowly.
She wipes her eyes, still smiling.
“You’re cute when you suffer.”
You roll your eyes at her, but you’re smiling too. Just a single bite and you’ve already drank two glasses of fluid. How many bites are there left? You wonder to yourself and count. 32. 32 more bites. And that means 64 glasses of fluid. How the hell are you going to finish the challenge?
Not to mention, the rules state that you have to finish every single drop of sauce as well. And that'll probably add another 64 glasses of fluid onto your belly. Assuming that each glass is 500 ml, then what, you’ll be filled with 64 litres of water. At this rate, you’ll be a walking watermelon by the end of the challenge.
“Earth to you!” Liz waves at your face, nudging you. “Eat!” she says, popping another piece hesitantly into her mouth, before downing another two glasses of water — no more milk, the milk ain't free. You try your best too, but ultimately, you both barely finish a third of the bowl before surrendering.
The owner takes a polaroid of you two, red-faced, teary, holding up the half-eaten bowls like trophies.
Liz insists on sticking it on the Wall of Shame herself.
“Team Whirlwind & Quiet Guy!” she declares, writing it in marker. You stand behind her, arms crossed, trying not to look proud, but damn, her handwriting is pretty. You get another two pieces of the polaroid photo, which the owner had kindly taken extra for you both as keepsake.
You take the photo and glance at it for a second, appreciating her goofy smile beside your forced one. You never did realise, but she has a dimple on her left cheek when she smiles, and it makes your heart skip a beat and the corner of your mouth curves slightly. Before she can catch any hint of it, you take out your wallet and keep it, making sure that none of the edges are folded when you slide it into the slot. And Liz? She clasps it behind her transparent phone case’s cover at the back of her phone.
How long do dates last? You have no clue. But it's definitely not an hour and twelve minutes because she is already dragging you to the next stop, a bar a few blocks away.
The challenge is simple — a standard dart game, but instead of the usual subtraction of numbers from 501 from every hit, it is a combined score of 520 times two, which is 1040. Because apparently 520 means ‘I love you’ in Chinese, and since it is a game meant for couples, it's double the intended target. You two have to take turns throwing a dart that looks like a swordfish (you have no idea why, perhaps an inspiration from some anime or sorts).
She lines up her first throw like a pro with her tongue out and eyes narrowed, then launches. The dart arcs beautifully… straight into the wall three feet above the board.
And of course you both lose spectacularly, despite her bragging about being a high school dart champion in her neighborhood. You swear that at least 20% of her throws ended up with fates that took a magnificent modest arc to land on either right on the ground or hit the high ceiling wall.
You make a mental note to never let Liz convince you to be a target on a knife throwing stunt — you doubt that it will happen, but who knows what will happen with her.
As losers again, yes again, you both end up in matching inflatable dinosaur costumes that are bright green and ridiculous, with tiny useless arms. How did T-rexes even earn their title of apex predators or King of the Dinosaurs?
The bartender takes the polaroid (does everyone own a polaroid nowadays?) and snaps a photo.
Liz poses dramatically with her arms up, roaring.
And of course you stand there, deadpan.
She laughs so hard she almost falls over.
“Losers Wall forever!” she cheers.
They hang the photo right next to the dart board prize neither of you won. And of course, courtesy of the bartender, you both get new pictures to add to your collection, to which you both slide into your wallet and behind her phone.
You're then dragged to the bar counter and Liz orders two cocktails — something bright blue and probably dangerous.
“Alcohol content?” you ask.
“18,” the bartender replies.
You pick your glass up and swirl it slightly, trying to get some of the volatile alcohol to evaporate, before sipping slowly.
She downs half of hers in one go. You cock your eyebrow, visibly impressed.
Then she leans across the table, eyes sparkling.
“Okay. Truth or dare.”
You raise an eyebrow. “Again?”
“Truth or dare,” she repeats, grinning.
You sigh.
“Truth.”
She thinks for a second.
“What’s your idea of a perfect date?”
You answer honestly.
“Quiet dinner. Walk after. Maybe a movie. No costumes. No challenges.”
She tilts her head.
“That sounds… nice.”
She drinks, not because she lost, but just because.
“My turn. Dare me.”
You hesitate.
She leans closer.
“Come on. Dare me.”
“Tell me your name,” you say quietly.
“Pshhh. Lame. Isn't Liz enough?”
“Name,” you say again curtly, insisting that she tells you.
“Fine. I’m Jiwon. Kim Jiwon, my mother’s daughter.” She murmurs, batting her eyelids at you coquettishly. “Liz isn't exactly my name name. My friends just call me that because there's a running joke that I look German, and so they gave me a name.”
“Oh?”
“Elizabeth Helga Muller. Hence Liz for short.”
You let out a small snort in amusement.
“Your turn! Truth or Dare! C'mon choose dare~” she bounces on the high chair slightly.
“Truth.”
“Ugh. You're such a coward,” she whines. “Fine. You know, yesterday when I asked about the kiss on a first date, is that true?”
“Yea. Do I look like someone who lies for a profession?”
“Maybe? Liars don't write that they're one on their foreheads.”
“Fair enough,” you mumble, taking in a deep breath before sighing. “This is my first date actually. So yes, I haven't kissed anyone on a first date before because I haven't had any dates before.”
“Wait, for real? So you're not a ‘first-date-kiss-virgin’, but a ‘0-date-virgin’? Geez~” she giggles, tapping her two middle fingers together with that same otter clap again. And god, she's so cute when she does that.
“So… does that mean I get to be your first first-date kiss?” she teases softly, eyes lingering on yours, face inching closer to you.
Your breath hitches in slight panic and you turn away, swirling your glass of cocktail again.
“Y-your turn! Truth or dare.”
“Dare.”
Her answer comes immediately.
You glance around — bar lights flashing, people laughing.
“Sing something,” you say quietly.
She blinks.
Then she grins.
“Here? In front of everyone?”
You shrug. “You wanted a dare.”
She laughs loudly and then stands up on the chair, clapping her hands to gather everyone's attention. The bar quiets a little.
“Ahem ahem,” she clears her throat, pointing to the band in the center. “Please play Love Wins All by IU.”
Once the guitarist starts strumming, she starts to sing. And you're mesmerised. Her voice is breathy and angelic, but it also carries a solid and strong base to it.
People cheer. Someone films it.
When the song ends, she bows dramatically, then jumps down and grabs your hand.
“Your turn.”
You shake your head.
“I’m good.”
“Fine. But you owe me,” she pouts, but her eyes are soft. “Truth or dare?”
“Truth.”
“Why do I even bother asking…” she mumbles, before pausing to think for a second.
“Do you think I’m too much?”
You pause.
She’s still smiling, but there’s something softer behind it as she waits patiently for your reply.
You shrug and answer honestly.
“You’re… a lot. But I don’t mind.”
Her smile widens and her dimple deepens.
“Good answer.”
Then she downs the rest of her drink.
“Dare me.”
You hesitate.
She leans closer.
“Come on. Dare me.”
You glance out into the night sky, glancing at the flashing arcade lights, people laughing, and the city glittering below.
“Kiss me,” you say quietly.
She blinks, then she grins again.
“Here? In front of everyone?”
You shrug. “You wanted a dare.”
“It’s alright if you don't want to—”
She chuckles then grabs your collar, pulling you across the table, and kisses you.
It’s messy.
It’s enthusiastic.
It tastes like blue cocktail and adrenaline.
People whoop and whistle.
You both stay there, lips locked onto each other for a long moment, before she pulls back, cheeks pink, eyes shining.
“Best dare ever.”
“Yeah.”
She grabs your hand again.
“Come on. One more stop.”
The last stop — you hope — is a tiny karaoke booth in a basement arcade. When the door swings open, the lights inside are dim with a fake leather couch sitting against a wall, and a small table with two half-empty water bottles from the previous group.
“So what are we singing?” you say, already reaching for the control panel to select songs.
Liz locks the door behind you, and dims the overhead light to a soft pink glow, then turns to you with a nervous-excited grin.
“You’re so dense,” she says, grinning at you. “No singing tonight. Just… this.”
She pushes you onto the couch and kisses you right there and then. Your mind freezes. She's clearly tipsy from the cocktail earlier but fuck, she's also clearly conscious about it.
That's two kisses on your first date. Now you won't lose any truth or dare challenges.
Liz cups your face and leans in even more, tongue digging in as she sucks on yours, like she's starving for you. You reciprocate and hold on to her hips, holding her tight, gently biting on her lower lips as you kiss her back needily.
The wet smacking of your lips against each other fills the room. Her hands slide under your shirt and her fingers trace your skin. She whimpers into your mouth as you go deeper and harder, robbing and stealing the oxygen from her until you pull back slightly.
“You okay?”
She nods, eyes glassy and drunk with your taste.
“I want… more.”
You hesitate, but she senses it.
“Please,” she whispers. “I want to try… everything. With you.”
You look at her. She’s flushed, breathing fast, and her hands are trembling slightly.
“Okay.”
She smiles in relief.
Then she drops to her knees and settles between your thighs, right here, in the karaoke booth. She looks up at you with wide and eager eyes.
“Can I…?”
You hesitate a little, worrying about the public state of events.
“I want to… try more. With you.”
Your heart slams against your ribs.
“You sure?”
She nods frantically. “I’ve never… done this before. Not to mention, we're in a public place.” Her voice drops even lower. “I’m scared I’ll mess it up. But I want to. Please?”
You swallow hard. “We can go slow,” you say quietly. “I’ll guide you. If it’s too much, we stop. Okay?”
“Okay.” She nods again, eyes shining with relief and excitement. The air in the booth is warm as she steadies herself against your thighs, the carpet rough under her shins, the booth’s fake leather creaking slightly.
Her hand flies to your belt, undoing it. Her fingers are clumsy from the alcohol, and she's giggling nervously from her fumble.
“Sorry… first time doing this in a karaoke booth.”
You smile despite the pounding in your chest, reaching down and stroking her cheek with your thumb.
“You’re okay. Take your time.”
She finally succeeds in freeing you and your already painfully hard cock.
Her eyes go wide.
“You’re… really big.”
She swallows visibly, nervousness flickering across her face.
“I’ve… never taken anything this big before. I don’t know if I can. None of my toys were this… big.”
She licks her lips across her upper lips in anticipation then leans in. Her tongue flicks the tip of your cock experimentally, tasting you with feather-light laps.
You hiss, hips twitching forward involuntarily.
“Like that?” she pulls back, eyes flicking up to you in satisfaction.
“Yeah,” you breathe. “Just like that. Slow… and swirl around the head.”
She follows your instruction, tongue circling the ridge slow and curious, tasting every inch. It’s messy and uncoordinated, but it feels god damn good. Saliva is already pooling at the corners of her mouth while her tongue moves, flowing in thin streams across the sides of her tongue onto your tip. Then she takes the head between her lips, making sure you stretch them wide, cheeks hollowing slightly as she sucks.
She tries to push further but gags almost immediately, throat fluttering. She pulls off with a wet pop and coughs once, eyes already starting to water.
“Sorry—still learning.”
You stroke her hair gently.
“You’re doing good. Breathe through your nose. Relax your throat.”
She nods, determined to do better, then goes back down. She goes deeper this time, taking you in inch by inch, lips stretched wide, tongue pressing flat against the underside. Her breathing is loud through her nose, sending hot little puffs against your skin.
She gags again, tears pricking her eyes, but she holds it there, throat working around you in tiny swallows. You feel her tongue explore around your shaft, sliding along the vein, circling the head when she pulls back halfway. Her hands grip your thighs, nails digging in slightly, anchoring herself as she tries to take you more.
She moans around you muffled, the vibration ripping up your spine, making you groan involuntarily.
“Am I’m good?” she pulls off and whispers, voice utterly wrecked.
“You’re so good,” you grunt. “So perfect. Look at you… taking me so well.”
Her eyes flutter from your praise and a soft whimper escapes her.
“More?”
You nod.
“More. Slow… just like that.”
She dives back in, bobbing now. It's clumsy but eager, and she tries to take more of you inside her each time. Her throat flutters and gags with tears spilling down her cheeks, but she doesn’t stop.
glk glk glk
She pulls off every few strokes, gasping for air, strings of spit hanging between her lips and your cock. “Look at me,” she pants. “Please… look at me while I do this.”
You can't even look away even if you tried. Her pupils are blown and her eyes are glassy, and her mascara is starting to run in short black tracks as she tears more and more.
She looks wrecked.
She looks beautiful.
She takes you deep again, nose almost brushing your pelvis this time, throat convulsing around you. You feel the coil tighten within you, and it's fast and almost painful.
She senses it and pulls off, stroking you fast and hard. Her slick hand glides over the spit and pre-cum around your cock. Each slide brings you closer and closer to the edge.
“Hey. Look at this.” She whispers and grins, showing you her signature dimple again. “This is your third kiss on your first date.” Right as she says that, she latches her lips onto your cockhead and smooches it, sucking hard while she pumps you with both of her hands. Her tongue swirls and flicks your head while her lips wrap around it, saliva flowing down to lubricate your cock while she pumps and milks you.
“Cum for me,” she whispers. “Please. I want to taste you. I want… all of it. Let me make you feel good.”
She looks up, eyes locked on yours, tears streaming, mascara running, but she doesn’t break contact.
“I’m yours,” she mumbles around you.
The words hit harder than the vibration.
You break. Groaning, your hips buck into her mouth, spilling hot and thick across her tongue. She swallows everything you're expelling greedily and messily, some leaking from the corners of her mouth. She keeps you in the entire time, tongue flicking the underside, milking every last pulse.
When you’re entirely spent, she pulls off slowly. Her lips are swollen and glossed, chin glistening with saliva, and her eyes are shining with tears and pride. She licks her lips to catch the stray drops with her tongue.
“You taste good,” she says softly.
Then she giggles in sudden nervousness, as if the embarrassment only appeared now.
“That was… intense,” you say, pulling her up onto the couch beside you. You tilt her chin and kiss her deeply, tasting yourself on her tongue. She melts into you, clinging onto you, arms tight around your neck. You hold her there, breathing hard, cock still out but spent, heart hammering against hers.
Later, back at your place — yes, she insisted on staying over at your place because she feels tipsy — she falls asleep curled against your chest.
You stare at the ceiling.
You think you're in love with her.
***
“Will that get me a pass on the ride?” you say, frowning in exasperation.
“You think?” she giggles, arm hooked into yours.
The week after the karaoke booth feels like the world tilted slightly off-axis. Jiwon doesn’t slow down. Instead, she speeds up even more. Yes, you're calling her Jiwon now. You insisted on it after the karaoke night despite her playful reluctance, because you wanted to mean something to her beyond the nickname. She rolled her eyes… but smiled the whole time.
On Monday afternoon she texts you a single photo with a roller coaster loop-de-loop at Lotte World, neon lights streaking behind it like comet tails.
<Jiwon 🌀, 2:14 p.m.> Don’t worry, I’ll hold your hand the whole time
You stare at the message for an hour. Okay, maybe not an hour. But your phone screen with that message on it remained on your desk while you worked, and your eyes kept flicking to it for an hour.
You’ve never been a roller coaster person, but you still reply with an “Okay”. No questions. No hesitation. You’re already learning that with Jiwon, hesitation just delays the inevitable.
You meet her at the entrance at 6:55 p.m. — five minutes early, because old habits die hard. She’s bouncing on her toes in the ticket line, wearing a cropped hoodie, denim shorts, and sneakers that look like they’ve seen a thousand adventures. When she spots you she squeals and runs over, nearly tripping on her own shoelaces.
“You’re early again!” she exclaims. “Responsible guy strikes once more!”
“Were all your dates always late? I don't like to keep people waiting, especially you.”
“That’s so… sweet,” her smile softens.
She grabs your wrist and pulls you toward the gate. “Come on! The line for Atlantis is already long!” Atlantis is the big one, the indoor/outdoor coaster with the massive loop and the drop into darkness. Rumour says, okay maybe not rumours, Naver says that as “one of the scariest rides at Lotte World, it features steep drops, sharp turns, and a 2,198-foot, 1.5-minute, 3.8 G-force experience”. Whatever that means, it means you're fucked.
The queue is a snake of teenagers and tourists. Jiwon chatters the whole time, bouncing from foot to foot, pointing at the track, telling you about the time she rode it with friends and “almost threw up but it was worth it.”
And you? You listen quietly, nodding occasionally. Half your mind is focused on her quirky talk, but the other half is focused on the shortening queue and your impending doom. She glances at you every few minutes, like she’s checking if your soul is still there.
When you finally reach the front she grips your hand tight.
“You ready?”
You look at her and her eyes are bright, cheeks pink from excitement, hair already messy from the wind machines in line.
“Yeah,” you say, sucking in a deep breath. “Let’s go.”
The ride starts slow, climbing the lift hill with the reminiscent click-click-click that you hear every time you watch Final Destination — why the fuck are you remembering that now.
Liz squeezes your hand harder. “I’m not scared,” she says, voice higher than usual. You don’t answer, because that's obviously a lie that she's telling herself, but you hope that line will give you both strength to overcome—
The drop comes mid thought. She screams loud and delighted, hand gripping your arm so hard her nails leave marks onto your skin. Well, it hurts, but at least the pain helps you focus and keeps your mind from reeling. The loop flips you upside down and your world inverts, and her scream turns into laughter.
When the ride ends she’s laughing breathlessly, hair wild from the wind.
“That was amazing! Your face was so calm the whole time. How are you not scared?”
“I-I trust the machine,” you lie blatantly.
She laughs harder, but she leans in to kiss your cheek.
“My brave quiet guy—hurk—bleagh—”
Jiwon bends to the side and starts to gag, the spinning from the rollercoaster ride finally starting to kick in. Her knees start to wobble and you lunge forward to catch her before she falls, supporting her as you help her to the side.
“You okay? Take it easy,” you pat on her back concerned, taking a grape flavoured sweet out from your pocket. Here, suck on this. It’ll help you feel slightly better.
“You… brought that for me?”
“Mhmm. I knew one of us would gag, and sweets will definitely help with calming your churning stomach.”
“Gee thanks~” she says, popping the sweet into her mouth. “You're so sweet, like this sweet,” she blushes.
“You sure you're okay?”
“I'm fine, it's not the first time I'm gagging anyway. Remember? I was just gagging on your cock last week.”
“...”
She chuckles and wraps her arms around your neck.
The next thing you know, she's gagging on your cock in your car at the parking lot. You drove today because you didn't intend to drink. Well, that's the least of your concern, because right now, her mouth feels so god damn warm and wet around you.
“Car sex?” she whispered earlier when closing the car door, eyes sparkling. “It’s risky, it’s hot, it’s new!”
You hesitated and glanced around.
The lot is dark with few cars left, and the security cameras are probably too far to matter.
She senses your pause.
“Please?” she whined softly. “Just this once. With you.”
“Okay.”
glk glk glk glk
Jiwon’s taking your entire cock without restraint right now, body bent onto you as she sits right beside you. Her throat is stretching much more easily around you as compared to last week — you don't bother to ask why, but perhaps she has been practicing at home — and your cock is spearing her throat much deeper than before. Each bob of her head onto your cock makes you groan louder and harder, and you gather her hair into a bunch to the side to let her throat fuck you without restraint.
glk glk glk glk glk
“Bwah—” she lifts herself off your cock to catch a breath, before turning to smile at you. Her make up is slightly messed up and her lipstick is smudged, and gosh right now, she looks so fucking sexy.
“Your cock… it tastes so fucking good…”
She dives back down and bobs even harder and faster, desperate to claim every moan that comes out of your mouth, desperate to claim every drop of pre-cum leaking from your slit.
Each bob brings you closer and closer to the edge, and you don't know what it is, but her throat feels heavenly. Is that why she is so good at singing? Every thrust into her oral cavity has her throat muscles quivering and massaging your shaft, melting your mind into an euphoric pleasure.
“J-Jiwon—”
“Mhmm?” she pulls off, grinning at you. “I got better right?” She holds the base of your cock and lightly slaps it on her cheek, before giving your tip a few kitten licks. She then lets your cock go and climbs onto you, straddling you. Her hoodie is pushed up and her shorts are already shoved down to her ankles.
She’s needily rocking against your cock with her clothed pussy, whimpering. “Please… I need you inside… now…”
“Y-yea, condom—” you grunt, trying to take the packet that you’ve kept in your pocket since like forever — just in case you ever got laid on a date, which is apparently happening right now.
“No condom, please…” she begs.
“No Jiwon, I won't do it unless we use a condom,” you say firmly.
She looks into your eyes, desperate for your rawness, but your eyes tell a different story.
“Fine. One day I’ll get your raw cock in my pussy, and you’ll regret fucking me with one.”
You tear open the packet, hands steady despite the adrenaline still buzzing in your veins. She watches you with dark eyes, lips parted, then helps you roll it on, fingers trembling slightly.
She lifts her hips slightly and grabs your cock with one hand. With the other, she pulls her panties to the side, exposing her already dripping folds and lowers herself onto you, sliding you in slowly and carefully.
The heat of her swallows you whole.
She gasps at the fullness, head falling back against the headrest, hands braced on your shoulders. Her walls flutter around you instantly, slick and tight, still pulsing from the adrenaline high of the ride.
“Fuck—” she breathes. “So full… you’re so deep already…”
Your hands find her hips, fingers digging into soft flesh, steadying her as she starts to move.
She doesn’t ease into it.
She bounces.
Earnestly.
Desperately.
Every downward slam makes her breasts jiggle under the cropped hoodie, makes the car rock on its suspension, makes wet slapping sounds fill the small space between you. You thrust up to meet her, but it's controlled at first, matching her rhythm. And god forbid you, because you want to go faster.
She moans loudly and unrestrained, head thrown back so far that she's bumping lightly on the car’s ceiling with every rise.
“Yes—yes—fuck me like that—”
Her dirty talk spills out in broken gasps, voice still hoarse and wrecked from screaming on the coaster and now from this.
“Harder—please—make me feel it—make me feel you—”
You grip her hips tighter and pull her down harder on every bounce. The newfound angle lets you hit deep, deeper than the toys she’s used to and she keens every time your pelvis grinds against her clit. You slide both hands upwards from her hips, snaking under her hoodie, pushing the fabric up until her breasts spill free. You reach behind and unhook her bra, tugging it upwards to her wrists only to hook and tie them again.
Her wrists are now bound.
Back to her tits. They're soft and warm and stiff, dark nipples begging for attention. The size is perfect, resting right in your palms as you cup them both, rolling and kneading as she grinds and rocks her hips on you. You lean forward and take one into your mouth, tongue swirling round, lips sucking hard. Her back arches violently and a choked cry rips out of her.
“Oh god—yes—suck them—please—”
You switch to the other, teeth grazing lightly as your tongue flicks the peak. She rides you faster, hips snapping down, walls clenching every time you apply that soft, gentle suction.
The car is rocking harder now as its springs creak, windows completely fogged from your body heat and passion.
Her moans turn into high, frantic whimpers.
“I’m—close—fuck—I’m gonna—”
You thrust up harder, driving into her relentlessly on every downstroke. Jiwon shatters and cums with a scream, whole body seizing, walls clamping down so tight you almost lose it right there.
Warmth floods around the condom and she squirts onto you, a sudden gush that soaks your lap, the seat and her shorts.
She’s shaking from the sensation and her thighs are trembling, but she's already moving again. Tears streak down her cheeks from the intensity, but her hips snap down harder and faster more urgently, as if she's forcing herself onto you to chase the aftershocks of her first orgasm, while trying to pull you into one with her.
The car rocks violently now. The suspension springs are groaning under the force and the windows are completely fogged over, the outside world reduced to nothing but blurry neon smears. These are the least of your concerns, because right now, only Jiwon is in your eyes.
You thrust up to meet her drops, and they're no longer gentle, no longer measured.
Your hands move back and clamp onto her hips, fingers digging harder into her soft flesh, guiding her rhythm while also anchoring her so she can bounce even harder.
“Fuck—yes—right there—” she gasps.
Taking one hand off her hips, you reach upwards to grab her bound wrists, leaning forward to lick the sweat that’s beading off her collarbone. Peppering her neck with kisses, you move downwards and latch your mouth onto one nipple again, sucking hard and fast, making her arch violently.
“Suck harder—please—bite—fuck—”
Your teeth close around the peak as her hips smack wetly onto you, tongue flicking rapidly on her nipples. Your hand slides from her hips, between your bodies to find her swollen clit. Your thumb rubs in tight, fast circles, matching the brutal pace of her bouncing.
She’s riding you like she’s trying to break you, or break herself, hips slamming down so hard the sound of skin on skin is obscene, wet, echoing in the confined space.
The car smells like the sex of her thick and musky arousal, mixed with cherry lip gloss, your sweat, the faint rubber of the condom, and the lingering adrenaline from the coaster that's still clinging to both of you.
Her walls are fluttering again, and her orgasm is already climbing, clenching around you in erratic pulses.
“I’m—gonna—again—fuck—I can’t—”
You thrust up harder, driving deep on every bounce. She screams and her body seizes. The second orgasm hits her like a freight train and she squirts again, even harder this time. The hot gush soaks your lap, dripping down your balls.
She’s sobbing now, pleasure so sharp it looks like she's hurting.
But you don’t stop.
You can’t stop.
She's crying for you not to stop.
You’re chasing your own high now, hips snapping up, fucking into her through her spasms. Her walls are still fluttering, milking you and the overstimulation makes her voice break into high, keening whimpers.
“Too much—too much—oh god—don’t stop—don’t stop—”
You suck harder on her nipple, teeth closing as your thumb presses mercilessly on her clit.
Her third orgasm crashes almost immediately, sharper, shorter, and more violent than the last. Her back arches so sharply her head slams and hits against the roof, a choked sob ripping out of her. Her walls clamp down on you like a vise, pulling you over the edge.
You groan against her breast, hips bucking one last time as you unload hard into the condom.
Pulse after pulse of white, thick cum bursts out of your slit, heat flooding the latex. The sensation is so intense it makes your vision white out for a second.
Your grip on her wrists loosens and she collapses forward, chest heaving against yours, arms wrapped around your neck like she’ll never let go. Both of you are shaking and breathing in harsh, ragged gasps.
The car is a sauna. Windows opaque, air thick with the scent of sex, salt from both of your cum and sweat.
She trembles in your arms, shaking in aftershocks that's still running through her. She's crying with small, hiccupping sobs against your neck. You rub your hands in slow circles on her back gently, kissing her temple, her cheek, the corner of her eye where tears still cling.
“You okay?” you murmur.
She nods against your shoulder.
“Yeah… just… wow.”
You stay like that for a long minute, letting her calm down, breathing together. Eventually she lifts her head. Her eyes are still glassy from the waning pleasure pain, but she's still smiling.
“That was… a lot.”
“Yeah.”
She giggles weakly then nuzzles into your neck.
“Best second-date souvenir ever,” she whispers.
You smile into her hair and carry her to the front passenger seat, driving her home. She falls asleep in the passenger seat, hand still curled around yours above the gear stick.
You glance at her sleeping face when you stop at a traffic light. She's peacefully sleeping now and you feel that same tightness in your chest.
You love her joy.
You love her chaos.
But you’re starting to wonder how long she can keep running at this speed before she crashes, because you know that constantly surging ahead means an inevitable burnout.
You don’t say anything.
Not yet.
***
Every week is a new and fresh date. Just like a whirlwind that gets stronger during intense temperature increments, her passion and infatuation with you grows stronger.
The weekend after the roller coaster feels like the whirlwind is spinning faster.
Jiwon texts you on Friday night with a single photo of a creepy clown mask from Nightmare Valley Horror Park’s website. Its red lips are stretched in an evil grin with void black eyes.
<Jiwon 🌀, 9:37 p.m.> Tomorrow. 9 pm. Nightmare Valley. Bring your scream face again 🎃
<Jiwon 🌀, 9:37 p.m.> I’ll hide behind you the whole time (promise I won’t bite… maybe 😈)
You stare at the message and your mind begins to shake. You’ve never been to a horror park. God you hate horror stuff. Why would you pay to be scared? But you already know the answer.
<You, 9:45 p.m.> Okay. See you there.
<Jiwon 🌀, 9:46 p.m.> 👻 ❤️ Woooooooo~
<Jiwon 🌀, 9:46 p.m.> Eheheheheheh~
You sigh in defeat, but there’s a tiny smile tugging at your mouth. You’re getting used to this.
Saturday evening arrives humid and heavy with the kind of air that clings to your skin. You park your car and meet her at the entrance. She’s dressed for the occasion: a black mesh crop top with a large red glittery star emblazoned across the chest. Ripped black jeans hug her legs, ending in chunky sneakers, and her long blonde hair is pulled into high twin ponytails, each tied with a massive red ribbon that bounces with every excited step she takes.
“Wow, you… look like a doll,” you stammer, gawking at her cute yet chic outfit.
“Pretty right? I tried to take a little inspiration from Harley Quinn, but I didn't want to look so… weird, so I settled with something more toned down!”
“Really? Elizabeth Helga Muller, toned down?” you look at her, raising an eyebrow in doubt.
She chortles a laughter and throws her arms around your neck. “I thought you would chicken out, but here you are~ My reliable guy.”
She grabs your hand and laces her fingers around yours, dragging you through the ticket gate.
The park is already dark. She said she purposely chose this timing to avoid the crowd and queuing, but it only served to make the whole park quieter and spookier. Fog machines pump white clouds across the paths, red emergency lights pulse like heartbeats, and distant screams echo from the haunted house.
The ball of energy beside you bounces on her toes. “First the big one. Haunted Manor. Then the mirror maze. Ready?”
You nod.
She squeezes your hand tighter.
“I’m brave,” she says and nods, huffing out a short breath before puffing up her chest. “Totally brave.”
You don’t comment.
The Haunted Manor line short, just a few teenagers in front of you giggling nervously and a couple behind you whispering bets on who’ll scream first. Jiwon chatters the whole time while waiting for your turn, pointing at the fake blood on the walls, telling you about the time she watched a horror movie alone and slept with the lights on for a week.
You listen quietly, nodding occasionally.
She glances at you every few minutes, checking if you’re still there. “Don't tell me you're scared of ghosts?” she mocks.
“Uhhh… aren't you?”
“Duh? Obviously not?”
“Then why are you teasing me?”
“Because it's fun to see you flustered, expressionless man~”
You poke her dimple when she laughs.
When you finally reach the front she grips your hand so hard her knuckles go white.
“You ready?”
You look at her. Her cheeks are pink from excitement, but her hands are sweaty from nerves, hair already frizzing from the fog.
“Yeah,” you say. “Let’s go.”
The door opens and darkness swallows you both. Inside it’s pitch black with only strobe lights and red emergency strips. Actors lunge from corners. Zombies, clowns, bloody nurses. Jiwon screams loudly and hides behind you every time something jumps out. Her feet freezes every few steps and she clings on to your arm, giggling between shrieks.
“I’m not scared,” she insists, but her voice shakes in betrayal. “Totally not scared.”
A zombie actor lunges from the side this time and she yelps, burying her face in your back. You keep walking calmly, guiding her forward.
She peeks out from behind you then laughs.
“You’re so steady. How are you not screaming?”
“I trust the actors won’t actually eat us.”
She laughs harder, but clings tighter.
“But. You have no idea, but my ass is clenched so tightly right now,” you declare with a sharp breath drawn.
She laughs even harder, hand covering her mouth in amusement.
When you both finally reach the exit, she’s breathless with her hair wild from all the ducking and jumpscares, but her eyes are bright with relief.
“That was amazing! You were like a human shield.”
“Anytime,” you smile.
She gives you a quick peck on your cheek.
“My hero.”
The Haunted Manor exit spits you both back into the humid night air, still buzzing with leftover adrenaline and the faint smell of fake fog clinging to your clothes. Jiwon’s hand is still in yours, fingers laced tight, but her grip is a little looser now. After all, the haunted house is over. She glances at you sideways, eyes still bright, but there’s a tiny tremor in her smile.
“Mirror maze next?” she asks.
You nod. She takes it as her cue and pulls you towards the glowing neon sign that reads: Lost Forever – Enter at Your Own Risk.
The entrance is quieter than the manor, fewer people, no long queue. She pays for both tickets (she insisted) then turns to you with a mischievous grin.
“I’m gonna get lost on purpose,” she whispers. “You have to come find me. And when you do…”
She trails off, eyes flicking toward the dark mouth of the maze.
Your stomach flips.
She doesn’t wait for an answer and leads you inside. The moment the door closes behind you, the world shrinks into reflections and echoes.
The maze is a labyrinth of floor-to-ceiling mirrors with cold glass on every side, endless Jiwons and endless yous stretching into infinity in every direction. The lighting is low and shifting with blue and purple strobes that make the reflections flicker like multiple versions of you both are breathing at slightly different speeds.
Every step echoes with soft thuds and clicks on mirrored floor, the sound multiplied a hundred times over in accordance to the reflections.
All of a sudden, Jiwon lets go of your hand and surges away.
“Catch me~” she sing-songs, her voice bouncing off the glass in overlapping layers. She darts left and disappears, pigtails swinging, red ribbons flashing in the strobes of light.
You shake your head and follow calmly, turning corners, listening for her giggles. She’s fast, but not subtle. You hear her laugh, then a soft “oops” as she bumps into a mirror.
“Wrong way!”
Another giggle. She's closer now.
You turn right, then left, then another left.
The reflections make it disorienting. Every mirror shows a different Jiwon, one laughing, one biting her lip, one looking back over her shoulder with wide eyes. You swore you saw one where her face is laced with fear and panic.
You keep walking.
Eventually you find her.
She’s in a small dead-end nook with three mirrors boxing her in, infinite Jiwons staring back from every angle. She’s breathing fast and her cheeks are flushed, eyes bright with excitement and something darker. She sees you in the mirror first and smiles with her dimple flashing.
“Found me.”
You step into the nook, boots soft on the mirrored floor.
“Let's go,” you say, reaching your hand out to her. But she turns and presses her back against the cool glass, pulling you in by the front of your shirt. The mirror is cold against her spine, and you feel her shiver through the fabric.
“Kiss me,” she whispers.
You lean forward and taste the faint cherry gloss still on her lips, the salt of her skin, the adrenaline still buzzing through both of you from the haunted house. Her hands slide across your shirt, fingers tracing your sides, then higher, nails grazing your ribs.
She moans softly into your mouth, hips pressing forward, grinding against you through denim. The mirrors multiply every movement of the infinite Jiwons arching into infinite versions of you, infinite hands sliding across infinite shirts, infinite mouths opening in silent gasps.
You pull back just enough to speak.
“Here?”
She nods, lips parted, eyes dark with want.
“Here. In the mirrors. I want to watch myself… while you…” she trails off, but her hands are already tugging at the waistband of her pants. “Eat me.”
You glance around. The maze is quiet with distant laughter and screams from the other minimal visitors, and no footsteps are close.
You nod.
“Okay, but we have to be quick.”
She smiles and guides your hand between her legs. You push her pants down and slide her panties aside, fingers finding her already slick, swollen, pulsing with heat. She gasps into your touch, hips jerking forward, and the mirrors show it from every angle. Her mouth falls open, head tilting back against the glass, thighs parting wider, your hand disappearing between them.
You kneel and spread her legs wider. Jiwon's back arches against the mirror, hands tangling in your hair. You lean in and press your tongue flat on her wetness, tasting her.
She exhales with a loud broken moan, head falling back against the glass with a soft thud. The sound echoes and reverberates around the mirrors, multiplied by every reflection, each reflection moaning at slightly different delays.
“Look at me,” she whispers. “In the mirrors. Look at us.”
You glance up.
The reflections are endless. Jiwon multiplied forever, face flushed, mouth open, eyes glassy. Your head is nested between her thighs, her fingers tight in your hair, her breasts rising and falling under. Your senses are overwhelmed and going into overdrive from the infinite versions of her trembling, infinite versions of you licking.
Every mirror shows a different detail: one catches the way her thighs shake, another the way her back arches against the glass, a third the tears already forming at the corners of her eyes from the intensity, a fourth the way her lips part in a silent scream when your tongue circles her clit, a fifth the way her fingers tighten in your hair so hard her knuckles turn white, a sixth the way her hips buck forward involuntarily, chasing your tongue.
She watches herself moaning and trembling.
“Oh god… look at me… look at how I’m shaking… look at my face—oh fuck—I look so… desperate… so needy…”
You lick harder, tongue circling her clit, fingers sliding inside, curling up to find that spot that makes her gasp.
Her reflections react in waves. One Jiwon arches, another sobs, a third bites her lip so hard it turns white, a fourth’s hands tighten in your hair so hard her knuckles turn white, a fifth’s thighs tremble violently, a sixth’s back bows so sharply her shoulders slam against the glass.
The sensory overload makes her nerves go on overdrive and she cums fast, crying out as her walls flutter around your fingers. She shakes as a gush of wetness coats your tongue and chin, some sprinkling onto the mirror floor beneath.
Her reflection shows everything. Head thrown back, mouth open in a silent scream, tears streaming, thighs trembling violently around your head, infinite Jiwons cumming at once.
She looks wrecked.
She looks beautiful.
But she begs you not to stop.
“More,” she breathes. “Please… I want to see myself cum again.”
You add a second finger inside her, thrusting slowly, tongue flicking her clit in tight circles.
She watches the mirrors, eyes locked on her own reflection, moaning louder.
“Fuck—look at me—look at how I’m shaking—look at my face—oh god I’m so wet—look at my pussy taking your fingers—”
Her voice cracks with every pump, thighs clamping around your head. Her second orgasm hits harder and faster, her back bowing so sharply her shoulders slam against the glass, a choked sob ripping out.
She squirts and sends a fresh wave of hot liquid that coats your chin, dripping down your neck, pooling on the carpet.
The mirrors fog slightly from her heavy breathing, her reflections blurring at the edges, making the scene look dreamlike, surreal. She grabs on to your head tightly, holding you in place, refusing to let you go. She doesn't say anything other than a few whimpers, but you take it as her cue to not stop.
And so you lap and lick and finger and thrust into her, until her third orgasm crashes almost immediately. Her legs buckle from the weakness and you catch her hips, keeping her upright, licking her through it until she’s trembling, oversensitive, whimpering.
“Please… enough… I can’t—”
You finally pull back and kiss the inside of her thigh tenderly, then stand. She collapses against you, arms around your neck, breathing ragged.
“That was… intense.”
You kiss her slowly and let her taste herself on your tongue.
“Thank you.”
You rub slow circles on her back.
“Anytime.”
She giggle then nuzzles into your neck.
“I like watching myself with you.”
You smile into her hair.
“I like watching you too.”
On the way out she’s quiet, clinging to your arm, smiling.
But her smile looks forced.
***
“Jiwon…”
“I’m terrified,” she whispers.
“Then why are we here?” you whisper back.
“I’m scared shitless of heights but I wanna do it.”
“...”
“Puh-lease?”
You keep quiet and squeeze her hand harder.
The instructor straps her in, harness tight around her chest and thighs, ankle cuffs clipped to the cord.
She stands at the edge with her toes curled over the lip as the wind whips her ponytail. She peers down and looks at the river far below.
Her knees are visibly shaking.
She looks back at you with trembling eyes.
“I love you,” she says suddenly.
Your heart stutters.
“I love you too,” you say.
She smiles and then turns forward, arms wrapped tightly around you as you get strapped too.
“Can we opt out now?” you plead.
“No.”
“Pleas—”
“3… 2… 1… BUNGEE!”
She jumps and pulls you along with her.
Her scream rips through the air as you both fall together, body plummeting towards the water. You grip her so hard that your knuckles turn white.
When the cord stretches to the maximum, it bounces back upwards, not before recoiling and you both fall downwards again. The cycle repeats for a few more times until your screams turn into laughter, then sobs, then laughter then sobs again.
When they pull you both back up she’s crying and laughing at the same time, but she's shaking so hard her teeth’s chattering.
You hope that she'd enjoyed herself out there, but she collapses into your arms the second she’s unclipped, face buried in your chest, sobbing openly.
“I did it,” she whispers. “I did it.”
You hold her tight, hand stroking her back.
“I’m proud of you.”
You sigh and wonder when she’ll actually stop forcing herself, because the more you spend time with her, the more you know that she doesn't want to do any of this.
The rooftop bar gathering is later that evening. The same place as before, same group of friends.
The sun has already set with city lights glittering below, music pulsing softly.
Jiwon is quieter than usual, still flushed and recovering mentally from the jump, clinging to your arm more than normal.
Her friends are loud and drunk, talking about sex like it’s a competition. And by now, the news of you and Jiwon dating is already known by all.
“Vanilla is so mid,” one girl says, rolling her eyes. “You gotta level up or you’ll bore him.”
Another laughs. “My ex used handcuffs and it was insane. Try bondage — trust me.”
Jiwon laughs along, but her smile is tight. You sense the force in her laughter. She glances at you nervously then changes the subject.
“Anyway! Who wants another round?”
The conversation moves on.
But you notice.
Her hand on your arm is shaking slightly.
After the group leaves — hugging, promising to meet again soon — she leans against you on the rooftop edge. The wind is cooler now, city lights reflecting in her eyes.
She’s quiet. Unusually quiet.
You hold her hand tight.
She doesn’t speak for a long minute.
Then:
“I want to try something really intense next time.”
You look at her.
“Like what?”
She swallows, eyes flicking away.
“I want to see… how many times I can cum. Like… really push it.”
You feel the tightness in your chest again, sharper this time.
“You sure?”
She nods and smiles, but her smile doesn’t reach her eyes.
“Yeah. It’ll be fun.”
You don’t answer right away.
You just hold her hand tighter.
She yawns, and quickly tries to cover it, but you see the way her eyelids droop a little, the way her shoulders sag when she thinks you’re not looking.
***
The days after the rooftop bar feel like walking on cracking ice.
Jiwon keeps smiling and keeps texting and keeps planning, but the cracks are showing.
Her messages come slower and her emojis fewer. She yawns in the middle of voice notes and laughs too quickly to cover it.
You notice everything, but you say nothing.
Friday night she sends only one message:
<Jiwon 🌀, 8:14 p.m.> Tomorrow. My place. 8 pm.
<Jiwon 🌀, 8:14 p.m.> The thing I talked about on the roof. Really push it. Please?
There’s no emojis. No playful tone. Just quiet.
You stare at the screen until it goes dark from the automatic time out of five minutes.
You type back an “Okay”.
She replies almost instantly.
<Jiwon 🌀, 8:20 p.m.> Thank you. I love you.
The words feel heavier than ever.
You arrive at 7:52 p.m., eight minutes early.
She opens the door wearing only an oversized hoodie with no shorts, bare legs, bare feet. Her hair is loose and unbrushed, eyes shadowed with exhaustion she’s trying to hide behind a smile.
“You came,” she says softly.
“I said I would.”
She pulls you inside and locks the door, leaning against it for a long second like she’s reconsidering what is about to happen.
The living room is lit with only the main ceiling light on, dimmed into a soft dull glow. The coffee table has the familiar setup of soft pink bondage tape, the bullet vibrator, lube, and the Hitachi wand she didn't use the last time.
But there’s something new.
A full-length mirror propped against the wall — the one from her bedroom — angled so the couch is fully reflected.
She sees you staring.
“I thought… it would be hot. To watch.”
Her voice is small.
You nod.
She fidgets, fingers twisting the her shirt.
Wrists and ankles again. And… the vibrator. A lot of it.
She looks up, eyes searching yours.
“I want to see… how many times I can cum. Like… really push it. Until I can’t anymore.”
Your stomach drops. You’ve done light bondage before at her request, but this feels like walking into a storm you can already see coming.
You hesitate much longer than the previous time and she notices.
“If you don’t want to—”
“I’ll do it,” you say quietly. “But red means stop. Immediately. No hesitation. Promise me.”
She nods fast, too fast.
“Red. Yea. I promise.”
She sits on the couch.
You kneel between her legs, trembling slightly. You start with her wrists, pulling them to the side, wrapping the tape slowly and carefully around the arm rests, leaving it still loose enough so that she can slip free if she needs to.
“Is this okay?” you ask.
“Tighter.”
You adjust and pull the tape until she nods, breathing shallowly.
“Yeah… tight… but good.”
You move to her ankles, securing them to the couch legs, spreading her thighs just enough.
She tests the restraints and wiggles, trying to break free. She's fastened tight.
“Feels… safe. With you.” She smiles softly.
“Good girl.” You kiss her forehead.
She whimpers from it, already wet.
You shift the couch until the mirror directly is in her line of sight. She looks at her reflection: Kim Jiwon bound and waiting to be worked, and she shivers from the positive (?) anticipation.
“Turn the light up a little,” she whispers. “I want to see everything.”
The walk to the switch and turn the knob, adjusting the variable resistor until the room brightens to show her bounded body in full view. You start with your fingers, drawing slow circles on her clit before thrusting gently inside. She moans and rocks her hips, eyes locked on the mirror.
“Look at me,” she breathes. “Look how wet I am already…”
You add the small bullet vibrator, pressing it to her clit on low. She gasps immediately, back arching on the couch as she tries to reach for something, but her hands are bound tight.
“Oh god… that’s… so good…”
You keep it steady, watching her face in the mirror, watching her dissolve in pleasure. Her first orgasm comes fast, and she's shaking through it, crying out your name as her walls flutter around your fingers, sending a small gush that soaks your hand.
She pants as her orgasm dies down. “More… please… I can take more…”
You edge her next, bringing her close, not before pulling the vibrator away. She whines from the loss of sensation, hips chasing after you, but she can't move.
“Please… don’t stop… I need it… I’m not boring… I’m fun… right?”
Her voice cracks on the last word that's filled with desperate self-reassurance. You stay silent throughout and bring her close again, and again, and again, and again, edging her four times in total.
Each time she chants frantically.
“I can take it… I want it… keep going… tell me I’m good… please say I’m good…”
You press the vibrator back onto her pussy and turn it up one notch. She cums right there and then, walls clamping around the small bullet as she sends another gush of wetness that soaks the couch.
You don't stop.
You turn the vibrator up to the maximum, pressing it firmly. Her third orgasm builds quickly. She’s crying out loud right now as her body jerks on the couch, pussy squeezing and clenching with convulsions that rolls through her for nearly thirty seconds.
By the fourth, you have added the Hitachi to her clit, the intense vibrations sending her into a full minute of continuous spasms.
“M-more—I can take—it—”
The vibrators are all on maximum intensity at this point and they remain fixed onto her sensitive pussy.
Fifth orgasm. She’s sobbing now, pleasure turning sharp, body locking up for a duration you can't count. Her thighs quivering uncontrollably, mirrors showing every twitch multiplied.
“Please… more… I can take it… I’m not done… I’m fun… right? Tell me I’m fun…”
Sixth: she’s babbling “too much… too good… please… keep going… don’t let me be boring…”, orgasm dragging on for over two minutes with full-body convulsions, sweat pouring, skin blotching red from the panting.
Seventh: her thighs clamp around your hand, liquid flowing freely from her eyes and pussy right now. Her voice is hoarse and the reflections in the mirror shows her head thrashing side to side.
“We green?”
“Yes—yes—fuck don't you dare stop—I need to prove—fuck cumming—”
She's cumming for the eighth time. She's already limp on the couch, voice cracking into near-silent gasp, body jerking in slow, exhausted pulses.
On the ninth her voice breaks completely. “I can’t… I can’t… it hurts… but don’t stop… I’m not boring… please…” Her orgasm stretches past long minutes, and she's shaking with full-body tremors, tears soaking the couch, reflections blurring into a smeared chaos of flushed skin and black mascara rivers.
On the tenth, she’s barely coherent, shaking violently, tears and sweat soaking everything. She’s choking on her own whimpers, mirror magnifying every shudder infinitely.
Your hand is trembling, wondering if you should stop despite her not using the safe word. Your heart wants to stop, but you know that you should keep going, because she trusts you.
She’s right at the edge of the eleventh and her hips are thrashing, walls fluttering wildly, body locked in pre-orgasm tension. Her reflection in the mirror shows a final, fractured version of herself — mouth open in a silent scream, eyes wide with panic — and something in her gaze finally breaks.
“RED!”
The word rips out of her, shattering the room.
You stop instantly, pulling the vibrators off and throw them to the side, hands pressing gently on her face, thumb rubbing across her cheeks. You continue to untie her wrists and ankles quickly, but also carefully at the same time. Her entire body is trembling in microspasms, to the point that it feels like she's shivering from extreme cold.
Once done, you carry her into your arms and sit on the couch, holding her tight as she curls into you. Her tears flow freely as you shush her, body still spasming with leftover aftershocks. You rock her slowly, hands patting softly on her back.
“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I’m so sorry. I should’ve stopped earlier.”
She shakes her head while her face is buried in your chest, sobbing uncontrollably.
“No… it’s not you. It’s me.”
She cries even harder, body shaking with the force of it. You stroke her hair slowly, whispering soft reassurances that everything is fine now. She clings onto you like she’s afraid to let go.
The room is quiet now, with only her hiccupping breaths and the faint hum of the vibrator forgotten on the floor.
You don’t move.
You just hold her, rubbing gently on her wrists.
Your heart breaks.
Her wrists are red from the tape faint lines where she pulled and struggled against, but she doesn’t seem to notice.
“I… I lied to myself,” she whispers. “I kept saying I wanted it. I kept saying it was fun. That I needed to… to keep up. To not be boring. To not regret anything when I’m older.”
Fresh tears spill at the confession.
“It’s nice when I do things together with you, but I never wanted any of it. Not really.”
She swallows.
“I was scared. Scared that if I slowed down… if I just wanted normal things… you’d get bored. Or I’d wake up one day and hate myself for wasting my youth. For not trying everything.”
You kiss and cup her face, thumbs wiping the unabating tear tracks.
“You’re not wasting anything.”
She shakes her head again.
“My mom… she never let me do anything. Said I was too young. Too unsafe. So I grew up thinking… if I didn’t grab every chance, I’d end up like her. Regretting everything.”
She sniffles in between the sobs.
“And my aunt… she did the opposite. Took every risk. Traveled everywhere. Started her business young. Now she’s a millionaire… but she’s alone. No family. No partner. She calls me sometimes and says ‘don’t waste your youth like I did by playing it safe’… but she’s miserable. She’s so fucking miserable.”
Jiwon’s shoulders shake.
“I didn’t want to end up like either of them. So I just… kept pushing. Kept saying yes. Kept thinking ‘one more thing, one more thing, then I’ll be okay’. But I’m not okay. I’m exhausted. I’m so fucking exhausted.”
She buries her face again, crying into your neck.
“I don’t want to try anymore. I just want… you. I want to wake up with you and not have to prove anything. I want to be boring with you. I want to be safe with you.”
You hold her tighter, heart aching painfully.
“I was doing it for you,” you say quietly. “All of it. The dom stuff. The roles. The pushing. I thought that’s what you needed. But I never wanted it either. I just wanted you. I love you exactly like this.”
“Look at me. You were drawn to me because I'm ‘boring and quiet’ right? So why don't you do the same for yourself and be yourself? If you can accept me for how and who I am, why don't you do the same and let people accept you for who you actually are and want to be?”
She lifts her head, searching yours.
“You mean that?”
“I mean it.”
Fresh tears spill again, but these are different.
They are tears of relief.
“I love you, Jiwon-ah. So you don't have to force yourself to do things that you don't want to.”
She nods shakily.
“I love you too.”
She lifts her head and kisses you, tasting salt and tears and cherry gloss.
You kiss her back gently, hands cradling her face.
“Make love to me,” she whispers. “No games. No restraints. Just us.”
“Okay.”
You carry her to the bed and set her down carefully, undressing her, pulling her oversized t-shirt off. You kiss every inch of her skin that's revealed. She reciprocates and undresses you as well, fingers tracing birth marks, moles, lines, memorising you like she's afraid she'll forget.
You stand in between her legs at first, sliding the latex on before laying down on top of her and sliding inside her. You push in slowly until you're embedded deep, eyes locked on hers throughout. She gasps softly, legs wrapping around you.
Her pussy is still quivering and sensitive from the overstimulation earlier, but she's smiling contentedly now.
No begging.
No commands.
Just feeling.
You move together slowly, hands clasped, foreheads touching. She moans with every movement, fingers digging into your back.
“You feel so good,” she whispers. “So right… so safe…”
You kiss her while you thrust, tongues sliding, breaths mingling.
“Can we… without anything?” she asks softly. “I trust you. I want to feel all of you. Just us.”
You hesitate, heart pounding against your ribs.
“You sure?”
She nods with certainty.
“I’m sure.”
You nod and unsheath briefly, pulling the latex off before sliding back in bare. The difference is immediate. It's hotter, closer, more intimate. She whimpers at the sensation, hips rocking up to meet you. You move slowly, feeling every flutter, every ripple. You feel every rib of her wall that you couldn't due to the thin rubber before, and now you feel like you're completing her; her completing you.
She doesn't last long, cumming first with soft, shuddering cries, walls fluttering around you in a quiet, trembling release that rolls through her like a wave.
But this time, she's not crying. She's not in pain. She's crying in pleasure.
The way she's melting under you sends you to the edge too. A few more thrusts and you follow, spilling inside her with a quiet groan as you kiss into her lips, sending pulse after pulse of warmth that fills her.
She clenches softly around you — not hard, not desperate — just holding you there, like she’s finally letting herself keep something instead of chasing the next thing.
She clings onto you tightly, tears on her cheeks.
But they’re happy tears.
You hold her after, arms wrapped around her, bodies tangled.
She falls asleep smiling, and she's peaceful, breathing soft and even for the first time in weeks. Her exhaustion is different this time round.
You stroke her hair.
This.
This is what you both needed.
Normalcy.
***
A few months later, the kitchen smells like garlic and soy sauce on a lazy Sunday evening.
Jiwon perches on the counter, legs swinging, stealing bites from the wok while you stir. She’s in your old t-shirt, hair in a loose bun with no makeup on.
You flip the vegetables; she watches quietly, chin in her hand.
Then, she asks softly:
“Am I boring?”
You don’t look away from the pan.
“Do you think this is boring?”
You gesture with the ladle in your hand at the steaming rice cooker, the open window, her bare feet dangling, the sauce smudge on your cheek that she hasn’t wiped off yet.
She follows your hand with her eyes, then looks back at you.
Her lips part to say a joke or two, but she stops.
Then she turns her head and really looks again.
At the chipped nail polish on her toes, the crooked apron she helped to tie, the ordinary Sunday unfolding around you both.
Her eyes soften.
The corner of her mouth curves.
That dimple appears.
She smiles.
She just smiles.
No words.
No need for any.
You lean in and kiss the dimple, then her lips, tasting her and the taste of home.
You lift off and turn back to the pan.
“Pass me the sesame oil, boring girl.”
She laughs and hops off the chair to hand it to you.
The immigration officer's tone is not too enthusiastic. They probably act similarly with everyone — long shift and everything. You don't take it too personally.
Incheon International Airport is rather bustling and loud, as to be expected for airports on a Sunday during winter. There are announcements echoing all over the airport for last calls and lost belongings. Through the people, you make way for yourself with a roller suitcase to the metro station and take a ride into the heart of Seoul.
The importance of this stint is as deathly crucial to you as it is to your university back home — a four-month compulsory graduation internship, and a gesture that signifies the bond between JYPE and your institution. You're not so sure regarding the number of years they've been on the ends of the connection, but surely, you're not letting it crash into rubble with your performances.
The ride into Seoul continues. There's a rolling of wheels running against the rails from under you. In the cabin, you watch the afternoon clouds and the snow-covered buildings run past you in a blur. Your compartment is playing a comfy lo-fi tune you don't recognize. Of course, you don't expect them to play K-pop all the time, but something you can tap your fingers to would be nice. They would make you feel more familiar with this place.
You reach your desired station eventually, and you drag your roller suitcase for a few hundred meters out of the station to the employees' dorm. Your body shivers in the freezing cold air of the city at three post meridiem. It's quite grueling, but you manage to withstand the temperature until your destination is right in front of you.
Your room is on the modest side. It's a little smaller than what you have at home, but you'll live. The space has everything that you need for survival: a bed, a heater, bathroom. You transfer your belongings from your suitcase to the closet, and in a heartbeat, you've made this place your home for the next four months.
—
"Don't forget the hashtags. The interns always forget them."
You type hashtags into your Notes app as Hyunjae — your supervisor — gives you a rundown of the ins-and-outs of your job. The inside of the JYPE building feels modern and sleek, probably from all that TWICE and Stray Kids income. This kind of design gives you a bit of comfort against the blues of working in a foreign country alone. It's not a complete package of coziness, but it'll work for now.
"There's also common sense stuff, but I'm sure you have it, right? Or they wouldn't have sent you here." Hyunjae scoffs before she gives you a questioning look. "Right?"
"Yeah, I have common sense, yeah," you respond to her, typing common sense into your Notes app and opening Safari. It's just to check if you're a well-mannered person.
Hyunjae smiles at you approvingly. "Alright, I'll go grab the passwords. Do whatever the hell you want until then."
—
The next few days pass by quickly. You're burying yourself in the work of posting the approved social media posts. There's TWICE. There's Stray Kids. There's ITZY. In the meantime, you've started to gain the ability to separate the Stray Kids members after years of boy band neglect. You've never missed a hashtag as well. That's the feat you're proud of.
"Why did you wanna be here? Like, why not somewhere close to your home?" Hyunjae quizzes, picking up a piece of tteokbokki with chopsticks. There's a small shot of soju at her side. There's a small shot of soju at your side. Just half a bottle of soju should suffice for this chilly Friday night.
"I just wanna be abroad," you answer. It's a simple answer to roll off your tongue. "Is that enough of a reason?"
There's a soft whir of the heater in this restaurant, working hard against the sub-zero temperature outside. The place smells of food and alcohol. There's a bit of woodiness in there as well.
"You don't get homesick?" Hyunjae asks. "I'm more concerned than curious right now, if you don't mind," and she chuckles softly.
You give her back a smile. "I live in a dorm during college, so this isn't very new to me."
Hyunjae just nods before picking up another piece of rice cake into her mouth. You figure you should grab a piece as well. Hyunjae is still in her blazer from work with a white undershirt. Her wide-legged pants look wonderful on her.
"So, who's your ultimate bias? Like, the greatest of them all." Hyunjae asks as she chews her food, a hand covering her mouth for politeness. "Not limited to just JYPE!"
"She's in JYPE, actually," and you chuckle. "It's Yeji."
Hyunjae nods receptively. "Nice, so what do you like about her?"
"She's my type! I like women who's on the more, what's the word, aggressive side?"
"Ryujin is aggressive as well — even more than Yeji," Hyunjae challenges, and that makes you think a bit. Yeji instead of Ryujin with assertion as the criterion is certainly something.
After a few seconds of thinking, you shrug out of surrendering to your supervisor's point. "Maybe I shouldn't have said aggressive."
Hyunjae chuckles. "It's fine. Sometimes we kinda just vibe with people, you know?"
You just smile at her before taking another piece of tteokbokki into your mouth.
—
The weekend passes by, and you find yourself sitting in your chair posting the activities and approved personal photos of your assigned groups on Monday. You stretch from time to time to release the fatigue building up inside your muscles. The atmosphere inside the office smells of air freshener and tea, while the sight is tinted blue from the lights installed above your head.
A Slack notification appears in the top right corner of your MacBook.
Han Hyunjae, 11:49: Itzy's in the building today
Han Hyunjae, 11:49: Wanna meet them?
You click on the notification to type a sure as a reply. Finally, you're meeting your ultimate bias up close!
Han Hyunjae, 11:50: Come to the cafe when you're ready!
—
The coffee shop on the ground floor is cozy and warm. You order a cup of iced Assam tea despite the harsh winter outside, with two pairs of tuna sandwiches from the cashier before settling yourself in front of Hyunjae at a table.
"They should be here in a few minutes," Hyunjae states, sipping her hot latte. There's a small mark of cream on her lips.
"You got a, uh," and you point at your upper lip. "Milk foam?"
"Oh, thanks." Hyunjae wipes the white stain off her mouth before gazing at the cafe entrance. You turn in her direction of sight as well, and you see them — ITZY — all five of them.
You've expected that they're people just like you — flawed and unique. Still, you can't help the quickening of your heartbeats for Hwang Yeji under the cafe lights. Your index finger taps on the table frantically as the women come closer to you and Hyunjae. You alternate your eyes between the five girls, but your focus seems to incline towards Yeji a bit more than the others. She looks different from what you've seen her in the photos and videos. Hwang Yeji just looks so damn tangible here — unfiltered, human.
You hear Hyunjae chuckle beside you. She notices you being star-struck seeing Yeji in person for the first time, though she just gives you space to get nervous seeing your idol.
The women settle themselves at a table not too far away from you. You turn back to Hyunjae, eventually, to see her smile tenderly at you.
"You wanna say hi to them?" she asks, pointing in ITZY's direction with her thumb.
You stammer out, "Yeah, sure. Do you have to, like, come with me?"
Hyunjae shrugs. "Up to you! They're used to the seniors from your college, though, so don't worry too much."
You give her an investigative look — lips tight, squinted eyes — before getting up from your seat and telling her: "Can you come with me, please?"
Hyunjae just laughs and stands up. "Alright, follow me."
You walk behind her at a somewhat close distance, watching ITZY's relative position getting closer to you. They chatter about something you can't make out against the waves of sound from the entire cafe.
"Hey!" Hyunjae greets, and the women turn to her and you. Yeji tilts her head slightly, perhaps curious about your presence.
With a drag, "Hello!" Yuna says first, happily, followed by a few waves and greetings from the other members.
"My new intern wanna say hi to you guys," Hyunjae says, presenting you simply with her hands.
"Hi," you stammer out shyly, trying to look cool in front of the girls despite the rapid heartbeats behind your ribcage. "I'm the new intern."
"The university intern from abroad, right?" Yuna asks with curiosity. So, it seems that there's only one foreign university MOU with JYPE according to her statement.
"Yeah," you respond politely, almost with a bow. You're awfully socially anxious for them here.
"So, he's our Instagram admin now?" Yeji asks your supervisor, pointing at you with her thumb. Her voice is so deep, unlike the tone you've heard on the stages and clips. You find it attractive, of course.
"Yep, until early May, unless we give him a post-internship contract," Hyunjae answers. "He hasn't forgotten a hashtag in the posts yet. That's some achievement!"
Your heart floats a little at Hyunjae's praise. The tension in your shoulders dissolves slightly.
Yeji smiles approvingly before asking you, "Would you stay if you get the contract? Barring the visa and logistics and all."
"Yeah!" you reply swiftly. "It has been great for me so far," and you add small gestures with your hands to show the excitement at the prospect. You'd jump at the chance of working abroad.
Yeji nods. "Well," and she pauses. Perhaps she's thinking of something to tell you, only to come up with nothing. "No, yeah, I don't have anything to tell you. Do you guys wanna say something?" Yeji asks the other members.
"Just don't be afraid to talk to us," Ryujin utters coolly, arms resting on the cushion behind her. She seems chill with you, and that's wearing your guard away a bit more. "Don't use the main account, though."
"Sure, I'll do my best," you tell Ryujin with a smile. And feeling brave, you hint, "I have just your public Instagrams for now, still."
Ryujin chuckles, giving you a knowing look. "You want our private accounts?" and the rest of the women laugh as well.
Your body freezes, not thinking straight at Ryujin's forward proposal. You just asked for ITZY's personal Instagram accounts, how brazen!
"Chill out, Ryujin. Let him settle in with the company first," Yeji states, and she turns to you. "Come to the end of the month party. We can, like, talk a bit more there."
"Party?"
"Yeah, we have a party at the end of each month," Yeji answers. "Everyone gets wasted and has deep talks — fun!"
"Everyone?" you ask another question, brain imaging the entirety of ITZY slurring and throwing arms around.
"Unless you're tolerant to alcohol, then yeah, everyone who's in Seoul on that day," Ryujin says, "I saw Hyunjae making out with—"
"You saw nothing," Hyunjae quickly halts Ryujin with a finger point, who's now laughing merrily.
Lia chimes into the conversation, "It's fine, Hyunjae. We're happy that you finally found someone!"
"Fuck off," Hyunjae curses, face already red with embarrassment. "I didn't make out with anyone. I'm a woman in her twenties who can look after herself!"
"Doesn't mean you have to be single!" Lia teases with a shrug.
"Again, fuck off," Hyunjae curses once more, and you just watch the banter unfold like that for a while until Chaeryeong gestures them to stop escalating the verbal onslaughts.
"No fighting in public, girls," Chaeryeong says, prompting a grumpy huff from Hyunjae and a giggle from Lia.
"Two tuna sandwiches and Assam tea!" a barista announces from behind the counter. That's your order.
"I'll go to the party, I promise," you tell the women, turning back and forth between your food and them. "Thanks for the welcome, really."
"See you around," Yeji says warmly.
"You're my bias, by the way," you say to Yeji.
She touches her chest with kind eyes and an aw. "Appreciate that, see you around to the power of two then."
You just smile back and nod at the girls before leaving the table with the now-beet-red Hyunjae.
"Who was it?"
"Oh my God, fuck you too."
—
The next three weeks move by rather slowly. Your job still consists of being present and posting media on your assigned groups' and members' accounts. The relationship between you and Hyunjae develops into something warm and comfortable in the meantime, and she helps you settle into living in South Korea by a large margin. It's not quite a place of home yet, but it's much better than four weeks ago.
Party day arrives, eventually. You've been spinning your chair for the last few hours out of excitement to get drunk under Hyunjae's supervision. Your state of mind has been fortified since the last day of your last semester back in your country. Intoxication in a foreign country has been a far-fetched concept to you, but you're going to experience it firsthand tonight!
From the side, you see Hyunjae walking towards you merrily in a blazer and a pair of wide-legged pants, humming some tune you don't recognize.
"Hey!" she starts with a blooming smile, and you wave back to her. "Have you posted the Hyunjin images yet? For his personal."
You check the Instagram feed for a bit — hynjinnnn. The latest post was 34 minutes ago, and you nod at your supervisor. "Yeah, half an hour ago."
"Splendid. Well, let's go now, shall we?"
You look at the time. It's about half past four post meridiem — not the time to clock out yet. You shoot her a puzzled look.
"Party day! We can leave early, don't worry," Hyunjae assures you. "We reserved the entire restaurant from five to eleven, and I don't wanna be late."
"Oh, alright, okay, sure," and you quit the apps on your MacBook before shutting it down. You put your belongings into your backpack and leave the premises with Hyunjae.
—
It's almost five. The restaurant is big — unbelievably big.
"How many people will there be again?" you ask Hyunjae. There's quite a number of people at the tables already, waiting for other employees and all sorts of meat and vegetables to be served.
"Last time was two hundred and twenty-one. This place can handle two hundred and fifty, though," she responds. "If there's fewer people, we get more soju."
You give Hyunjae a judging look.
The two of you settle yourselves at a long table that should fit about twelve people. There are already a few bottles of fruit-flavored soju on the table with shot glasses. You're waiting for more people to join the party, still. And while waiting, you pick up your phone and scroll through Twitter fan-wars and memes mindlessly.
As minutes pass, more and more people enter the restaurant, sitting at the tables all around the place. You're still surfing through Twitter, reading sombr-ending tweets and the somehow-still-ongoing war between BLINKs and ARMYs.
A hey from Hyunjae is what calls you back to the chatter of the diner.
At the entrance, you see the five girls of ITZY waving in your direction. They tread towards your table with Yuna almost jogging to you to say hi. She hugs Hyunjae and sits down beside her, across from your seat. The other members haven't even reached the halfway point yet.
"Intern boy, right?" Yuna asks you.
"Yeah," you reply with a soft smile, putting your phone back into the pocket. A server hands you the menu.
"Hello," Yeji greets as she appears beside you.
Your eyes widen — star-struck, shocked, almost dropping your menu. You can only stutter out, "Hi, Yeji."
She laughs joyfully before taking a seat next to you. "Well, nothing soju can't do."
Chaeryeong and Lia sit on the other side of the table, while Ryujin finds her seat on Yeji's left. There she is: Hwang Yeji, your ultimate bias, sitting beside you in a restaurant for a dinner with alcohol involved. This is going to be the most stressful meal you've ever had.
You order the food through the server, and they go back into the kitchen to prepare your meal. Your body is still trembling with anxiety with Yeji sitting beside you.
She seems to notice your nervousness still, and she kindly sparks a conversation with you with a giggle. "Do you drink often? Back in your country."
Still shaking, you stammer, "Yeah, kinda." And with shyness, you start pouring grape soju into the shot glasses for the surrounding girls, and you hand out the glasses to each person, trying not to drop them.
"Thanks," Yeji says. "Ever blacked out before? Sorry if this is, like, too personal," she continues to probe tenderly.
You appreciate the sentiment, really, but you still can't shake the apprehension away. A part of you remains sensible with her, at least, telling you to keep answering and asking the questions back. It'll break the barrier between you.
"Yeah, in my sophomore year," you reply, attempting to knock this fear out. "I woke up at a bus stop on my campus."
Yeji chuckles. "Well, I've blacked out before as well! It was at our dorm, though. So, yours was obviously more exciting."
"She puked all over herself," Ryujin chimes in, earning a shy laugh from Yeji. "Shit was fucking messy."
The image is not pleasing to your eyes at all, whatever melts the ice, though.
You share more of your experiences. "I remember my teeth probably hitting the edge of a toilet, and the bouncers carrying me down from the second floor."
Yeji laughs. "We're equally fucked, then."
You chuckle back at her. The tension begins to dissolve into something more domestic and casual. You can feel your bones relaxing inside your body, and you start asking more about Yeji. "So, how do you, like, get your stuff? You guys can't just go to a store and buy soju, right?"
"It's usually our bodyguards, yeah. They can carry a lot more than us, though, so it's probably for the better," Yeji answers with a shrug before taking a shot of grape soju, and you hand her the bottle to pour more. "How about your college life, though? Aside from that blackout."
"Difficult," you reply. "Having good friends helps a lot, at least."
Yeji nods with an ooh leaving her lips, then, "What do you guys usually do together, if you don't mind me asking?"
"It's standard college stuff, you know: eating, studying, taking classes. You probably—"
You notice Yeji's expression soften into something that almost resembles sadness, and you have to stop yourself from talking to empathize with her first.
"Yeah, and?" Yeji asks, almost sniffling with tears now. "I just, yeah, wait."
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't—"
"No, no, keep talking. I just gotta manage myself a bit," Yeji responds with a slight stutter in her voice. She's wiping her eyes with the back of her hand now, and you shake your head profusely, adamant on not telling her about your college life further.
"Let's talk about something else," you comfort, eliciting a smile from Yeji's face. "Like, do you watch sports?"
Still with a slightly shaken voice, Yeji answers, "Yeah, I do watch F1 on some weekends, yeah."
With almost minimal knowledge of car racing, you ask her, "Can you tell me about it?"
Yeji's sniffles turn into a look of unease instead, putting your thoughts to a halt. "You're testing me or something? Is it because I'm a woman, is it that?"
"Misogyny, boo," Ryujin adds from behind Yeji and gives you a thumbs down. She's still apparently listening to your conversation intently.
Your eyes widen in fear of misunderstanding. You deny the accusations with haste. "No, no, no. Oh my God. I didn't mean to, like, question you like that. I'm so sorry."
Yeji stares at you blankly for a few seconds, letting you bask in the apprehension of being mistaken. You look at her fearfully, at least until she laughs at you, and Ryujin laughs at you as well.
"Just fucking with you, don't worry," Yeji assures. "I'd be happy to tell you about F1, and Ryujin too. We watch it together whenever we have a chance."
You let out a long sigh of relief. "Thanks. I really don't know shit about this."
—
"That's why I support them," Yeji states.
"And Hwang Yeji is cursed for years of torment and suffering of being a Williams fan!" Ryujin announces as she hugs Yeji from behind. "Should've been a Bearman fangirl like me."
Yeji chuckles. "I think I'd be dead before Williams has a top-three season."
There have been a few shots of soju since the start of F1 recap from Yeji and Ryujin, and you're not particularly tolerant of alcohol. So many things are flashing through your head right now: math problems, laundry, making out with someone. You feel a lot lighter than you're supposed to be. The sound of sizzling means shit right now as your brain decides to loop your favorite song on repeat.
"I'll go to the bathroom a bit," Yeji says as she gets up from her chair, leaving just you and Ryujin behind on your side of the table.
You go back to grilling meat and vegetables as Yeji disappears behind the bathroom door. Suddenly, Ryujin scoots over onto Yeji's chair, equally drunk as you are.
"Does she live up to your expectations?" Ryujin asks, bumping her shoulder to yours softly. "Yeji Hwang, your bias."
You reply without looking at her, still flipping food on the grill, "She's great! I mean, I don't expect her to be a perfect angel like that. You guys are human like me."
Ryujin nods. "That's a great mindset to have," and she joins you on the fire, helping you flip the food carefully.
"Thanks."
Ryujin helps you flip a few more pieces, then she pours you and herself a shot of soju. An oh leaves your lips. You don't expect Ryujin to do this for you. Still, you thank her and gulp down the shot alongside her.
"I think I'm gonna go outside a bit. Wanna come with me?" Ryujin asks you, evenly distributing the meat and vegetables to the other side of the table and not keeping one to your side.
"Me?" and not Lia or Chaeryeong or Yuna?
"Cultural exchange, wait," and Ryujin pauses for a thought. She looks at your supervisor. "Hyunjae, can I have your man for a bit?"
Hyunjae, drunk, replies with a reference to Jemima Kirke, "What the hell, sure."
Ryujin stands up from her seat in an instant, adjusting her leather jacket slightly. "We won't be long," she promises. The other members at the table just give each other a certain look as you stand up along with Ryujin. Your difference in height isn't much — you being taller than Ryujin by about an inch or so, but it feels like she's holding all the power against you here somehow. Maybe it's her assertive personality. Maybe it's her social status. Maybe it's the fact that you're a foreigner.
"Alright, follow me," Ryujin says before leading your steps towards the door to the outside. She grabs her coat from the seat, reminding you to take yours into the cold air as well. As you tread along the walkway, you two draw a few unwanted pairs of eyes. You're too drunk to raise a concern to Ryujin, though.
The door opens. You're met with the chilly late-January atmosphere, and it's making you shake immediately at the first contact. Your hands are tucked between your arms and flanks to preserve the body temperature. The air smells of smoke and asphalt. Ryujin continues to walk a few more steps against the stillness of the night, though, and you just have to follow her into the outside.
Ryujin stops a few meters away from the door as you struggle to walk under the cold. She chuckles tenderly at your inexperience in handling this temperature. Your body keeps shivering against the air uncontrollably. You reach Ryujin eventually, still.
She smiles almost awkwardly at you before starting. "I'm gonna be honest, I have no fucking idea what to talk about." She has a puff of air coming out of her mouth.
"It's fine," you scoff, smiling. You notice a puff of air coming out of your mouth as well. "Normally, I don't open myself up, though, so maybe I'll vent to you."
Ryujin laughs, leaning against the stone wall of the restaurant. The faint chatter from inside can be heard. "Thanks for trusting me," Ryujin says.
You just smile back at Ryujin, leaning against the stone wall beside her.
The silence goes on for a while. It's not suffocating — not the case of it's appropriate to say something. You notice that Yeji doesn't come out to get you back inside, but you don't raise your concern to Ryujin. Your body is still shivering in the cold, and Ryujin seems to notice it. She moves a little closer as if to warm you with her body.
You feel her warmth.
"Do you have a partner back home?" Ryujin cuts through the tranquil.
Mind in disarray, you answer succinctly, "I did."
She looks at you with a small sigh. "Sorry about that."
You scoff, turning to her as well. "It's fine — almost two years now. If anything, I'm a better person because of that."
"I used to have someone like that too — pre-debut," Ryujin says. "Life gets in the way, kind of thing. I'm sure yours is worse still."
You chuckle dryly. "It's not a competition. Don't invalidate your feelings," you assure her in the drunken stupor, moving closer towards her body a little more until your shoulders touch each other. Her eyes are a mix of longing and sadness. It's almost as if she's about to bawl in front of you, and you can do nothing but give her a warm smile against the cold air.
"You're so fucking sexy when you tell me that, you know?" Ryujin suddenly says, almost a scowl, and you just giggle, almost timidly. It's awfully forward, but you decide to ride the wave.
"Never counted you as a feeler," you reply with a tilt of your head, getting witty and brave to shoot a banter all of a sudden.
"I think more than feel, of course," Ryujin tells you. "But I'm not emotionally inept — suppressed, more like."
"Sorry to hear that."
Ryujin scoffs, "It's fine." She glances around her — the empty street, the buildings, the lights — and you do so as well, looking around until your eyes meet each other's. It's not the most magical moment you've ever been through — moderately drunk in the cold air. It's nice to have someone by your side at least, looking into your pupils and giving you the much-needed warmth.
"Do you wanna make out?" Ryujin utters. There are no signs of embarrassment or second thought on her face. You're not too shocked either. It's as if kissing celebrities is a normal occurrence for you.
You laugh quietly before responding with another question, "Do you do this often?"
"Making out?"
"Isolating an intern from abroad before, yeah, making out with them."
"You're the first man."
"Not the first person?"
Ryujin smiles awkwardly before propelling herself off the wall. She wraps her arms around your neck, slightly shaken from the alcohol. You see her cheeks flushing red under the nocturnal streetlights. "You're gonna judge me for that? Do I have to boo you again?"
You giggle in front of her, eliciting a mutual laugh back from Ryujin. Her breath smells of grapes. You're sure that yours is the same. The image is not as sensual as portrayed in the films, but it's certainly tangible.
"What if someone walks out and mistakes this for an affair?" you raise a concern, though half-hoping that Ryujin will just shut you up with her lips already.
"You're just quoting bullshit," she dismisses mischievously, apparently catching your tribute to a niche community. "Also, I don't plan on getting attached, since I won't be the only one having you."
You blink consciously, a tad surprised by the notion. Still, you're too hellbent on having Ryujin's grape-flavored tongue inside your mouth, so you tease, "You have me tonight, though."
Ryujin pouts with an aw, and she kisses you, like that.
She enters your mouth with little to no resistance from your body. Her tongue sweeps around the inside of your orifice, spreading her grape-ish taste and tasting your grape-ish taste simultaneously. Your hands cup her face gently, feeling the warmth of her cheeks. You're then pushed back up against the wall by Ryujin's sheer strength, and the act becomes even hungrier. She moans needily into the kiss, eliciting whines from your vocal cords. Your body shivers from the concoction of cold temperature and Ryujin's searing lips. You cannot think properly with everything that's going on, but your body is working on its own accord — flushing, shaking, moaning. You're so love-struck right now.
Ryujin gets a tad friskier with her hands, traveling down your frame from the back of your neck. She finds your arms. She finds your waist. She finds your thighs, and she gives them a totalitarian squeeze. You jolt, of course, and she chuckles against your lips.
Suddenly, with her core strength, Ryujin lifts you up against the stone wall of the restaurant. You yelp helplessly against her mouth. Still, you can't help but melt into her completely, submitting entirely to her.
"Wrap your legs around me, baby boy," Ryujin half-slurs, half-commands. You follow instantly, and Ryujin holds onto your supple ass firmly, using her body to push you up against the surface. Your cock twitches wantonly under the thick fabric of your pants, so eager to be freed and stimulated even more. It's pressed between your body and her taut abs. Never have you been pinned against the wall and wrapped your legs around someone like this. It's an utterly brand-new experience — one that you begin to appreciate more and more with the passing seconds.
"Ryujin," and a needy moan into the kiss. The lack of control over your body is awfully evident here, and you're more than ecstatic to let Ryujin take your place. Her lips taste of grape and a bit of smoke from the meat and vegetables. She gropes your rear authoritatively, not giving you an area to protest against her reign.
"God, you have such a nice ass," Ryujin hums, trailing her kisses to your cheeks and making you moan whorishly in Seoul's nocturnal air. She bites your ear with her lips. That's your erogenous spot, apparently, and you just collapse weakly into her. Ryujin is carrying your body now. It's a good thing that you're rather light for her. Then, she finds your neck, sinking her teeth into your skin playfully, almost dangerous in drawing blood. You find satisfaction in her acts, at least.
She keeps planting her kisses on parts of your face for a few more heartbeats until you hear a sound of clinking coming from the inside. The two of you are reminded of the party going on in the diner, and you're the first to come to your rational senses.
"Ryujin, we should, fuck," you stutter out weakly as she bites your lips. "We should go back inside."
Ryujin gives your lower lip a final tug before letting it go. "Yeah, we really should," she agrees with a chuckle, and she slowly lowers you down onto the floor. You let your feet settle on the asphalt surface of the street, and you feel like you can breathe and see things properly again.
You adjust your clothes a bit, doing your best to avoid raising suspicion from other employees. Ryujin does so as well, tugging at her coat hurriedly, setting her hair to its former state.
"Do we go back in together?" you ask with a little bit of nervousness.
Ryujin scoffs, "They'll know, definitely."
"Maybe," you cut her off, making Ryujin laugh heartily.
She continues, "They won't say a thing, though. Don't worry."
"If you say so."
—
The people at your table just exchange glances and giggle at one another. You're not giving them a harsh stare, but just smile and blink awkwardly at them as you sit back down beside Yeji. The sound of food sizzling reverberates through the air as Ryujin sits back in her seat as well.
"I didn't smoke," Ryujin starts, picking up a piece of meat with her tongs. "He didn't smoke."
"It's unhealthy!" you add. "No cigarettes or vapes involved in cultural exchange."
"That's encouraging, baby boy," Yuna jokes, and a wave of drunken laughter erupts from everyone at the table but you and Ryujin. You two can only look at each other as you wait for the hilarity to dissipate into the air.
—
With all the shakiness in the world, "So, you do smoke?"
Stern, "Vaped — past tense."
Ryujin's bed creaks weakly under her movement — mostly as a result of her hips thrusting.
For what happens between you two, it's the similar steps: making out, stripping off, lying down. The path from her door to the bed is smooth. Her room is damn tidy. Your clothes are all over the floor now, though. You don't flag the current activity as bizarre, just that it's your first time doing this with someone else.
Your back is lying against Ryujin's mattress, arching up each time the tip of her silicone cock jabs at your prostate. The moniker rolls off your tongue so easily as your asshole is being plowed open.
"Daddy."
You do this cute little quiver every once in a while when your G-spot is attacked at the perfect angle. Your real cock twitches pathetically, spewing droplets of precum out of its slit, painting your tummy with your juice. Ryujin's face hovers above yours, just centimeters away. Her breath still smells of grape soju from the restaurant with each exhale, mouth slightly agape to let out sinful moans. She looks into your eyes with hunger and desire to conquer you wholly, and the best part is: you just let her take all of you like that.
Ryujin cups your face tenderly, still thrusting her plastic dick into your untouched warmth. "Daddy's loving this virgin boypussy so much," she coos. "Taking my girlcock so well."
You don't reply, instead letting your eyes roll into the back of your head with each of Ryujin's thrusts. There are soft, pitiful whines leaving your mouth rather weakly. You feel a tad cold from the strap-on's length splitting your hole open, though Ryujin's body is warming you up nicely. Your legs are opening wide to accommodate the sheer girth of her cock. You want to be witty and sharp under her — a power bottom — but all that comes out is just a whorish moan.
The pleasure isn't one-way. There's this little nub on the other side of the harness pressing against Ryujin's clit. She's indulging in the pleasure as much as you are, just with less outward expression — small stutters, soft moans, shaking limbs. You want to reach out for her pert breasts sitting above your chest, but the pleasure of being penetrated by the silicone phallus is just too much for you to dictate a movement. Her chocolate-colored nipples have already hardened from the power that she holds over you, and you can only alternate your eyes between those pebbles and her face.
"The other girls are going to love you so much if you keep this up," Ryujin says airily, a hint of exhaustion in her tone. It sparks a bit of curiosity in your mind about the identity of the other women, though.
Ryujin's hips make contact with your ass at each loving thrust, creating these sounds of flesh smacking into each other that echo all over her room. Your body keeps trembling under her every time her cock jabs at your core, and she just smiles cheerfully at the pleasure of having you converted into her baby boy. It feels heavy — each attack on your prostate — but you hold on against the urge to cum all over yourself.
"Who are the other girls, Daddy?" you ask with your feeble, completely pathetic voice. Your hands grip the bedsheets tightly, creating these crumples in the fabric.
Ryujin chuckles at your question above you, and she just kisses you as an answer. Her tongue pushes yours back into your mouth with ease, sweeping the leftover taste of grape soju from the surface. Her hand cups your face lovingly in the soft moonlight from outside, shining through the window. She ups her pace by an ante, thrusting her synthetic cock into your tight asshole a tad quicker. At this speed, you almost lose control over your pliant physique — loosening grips, quivering limbs, rolling eyes.
She pulls back, satisfied with the kiss after a short while. A thin string of saliva clings to both of your lips — a link in the space between you. "Daddy's keeping it a surprise," Ryujin responds teasingly, licking her lips to taste you — still the grape soju. You whine needily at the view.
With Ryujin's intensity in splitting your asshole open, your orgasm arrives dangerously quickly. You feel the doom building up in your nerves down below, and you just have to announce, "Cumming, Daddy."
Ryujin just smiles — not rushing, not slowing down. She keeps her fervor steady, building you up towards the precipice under the soft moonlight.
"Daddy!"
Ryujin stuffs your mouth with her fingers, stifling the ecstatic wails from disturbing her bandmates, and your entire body goes stiff as your cock shoots ropes of cum out. It's painting your tummy and chest white. Your eyes roll into the back of your head with the surmounting pleasure wracking through your frame. Some of your semen lands on Ryujin's stomach and chest. She keeps pumping her hips into your ass to coax all of your juice out, and the result is your length twitching pitifully under her — drops into droplets that drizzle out of your slit. And as your orgasm subsides, all that's left is your cock leaking the last few globs of sperm down its length.
Ryujin laughs tenderly at the sight of your naked body utterly ruined by her fake cock, mouth sucking her fingers submissively. She languidly drags her phallus out of your asshole, and you can feel yourself expanding and contracting around her needily. It leaves you with a soft pop, lube spilling onto the mattress. Your warmth feels so empty without her filling it to the brim.
"Daddy," you mumble weakly against her digits, prompting Ryujin to pull them out of your mouth. All that leaves your mouth is a soft whimper, though.
Ryujin pulls your cheek playfully. "Who's Daddy's little cockslut?" and a hum.
"I'm Daddy's little cockslut," you respond, still weak in your tone. Your eyes slowly settle back into their normal positions, and you see her smile at you in a mix of hunger and affection.
"Good boy," Ryujin coos, giggling above you. She then plants her lips on your forehead fondly. Warmth blooms from the spot. "Let's take a shower together."
"Are you gonna fuck my ass again, Daddy?" you ask, mind still hazy with lust and complete compliance.
Ryujin purses her lips, thinking for a heartbeat. "Eat Daddy's cunt first, okay?" She caps the sentence off with a firm squeeze of your ass before getting off of you, and you feel like you can breathe properly again.
"Come here, baby," and Ryujin pulls your arm, getting you up from the mattress. You muster every ounce of your energy left to stand up in front of Ryujin, and you trudge after her into the bathroom.
—
A cunnilingus and a pegging in the shower later, you're lying on the bed together, facing each other with only the outside light illuminating your features.
"How's quitting smoking going?"
"Not good," and Ryujin giggles.
You don't bother putting your clothes back on, but let the heater and each other warm your body in the frosty night. Ryujin's expression makes it clear that she's still in the high of fucking your pretty asshole and gushing her juice all over your face. Her mouth smells of mint toothpaste now. The two of you figure just to share her toothbrush. Your finger circles around her dusky nipple gently, and Ryujin lets out a quiet whimper from time to time in pleasure.
"I started a few months after the debut, and Yeji found out because of my bad breath. I smoked like two packs a day. She helped me keep it a secret, though," Ryujin recounts, hand caressing your face affectionately. "Then I switched to vapes during SNEAKERS."
"Oh, yeah, I remember that."
Ryujin chuckles. "Yeah, and then I forgot to hide it one day. News was out and stuff, so I've been trying to quit it since."
You sigh, hand moving to her cheek now. "I appreciate you for trying in the first place."
"Really?"
"Really."
Ryujin smiles, receptive to your words. "Thanks."
You smile back at her, and you lean in for a kiss — a peck on her lips. It feels less passionate than the earlier making out sessions, but it's still surely sincere from the bottom of your heart.
"So, like, I'm being passed around you girls now?" you ask.
"If you do consent, then yeah!" Ryujin answers. "You can be a whore for the next few months if you want."
You consciously blink at her statement — whore. Not that you're going to say no at the chance of having sex with your hot co-workers during internship, though.
4K words. Fluff and smut. This is my first time writing, so any criticism is welcome.
-----
You heard a rumor that Hyeju started working at her family's bakery after Loossemble disbanded, but weren't sure if you actually believed it -- until now. Walking out of the shop, still starstruck, coffee in hand, you couldn't shake the feeling of regret you know will eat at you for the rest of the day. If you don't act now, you'll never see her again. Your heart drives you right back through the door, while your brain stays out on the sidewalk. She spots you from behind the counter, a small grin pops upon her face.
"Hi, sorry I-"
She cuts you off, "You forgot your wallet, here you go!"
You sit there stunned for a moment, forgetting the reason you came in here in the first place. While you stand idly, she looks you up and down, her eyebrow slightly raises. It must have been 10 seconds of silence before you regain your voice.
"Sorry if this is weird, but I've loved you ever since debut"
"Thanks, haha"
....
"Oh. I mean your music. I love your music"
"Oh, so you don't love me?" she says with a frown, but you aren't sure if it's playful or genuine.
After another moment of silence, you blurt out "no, I do love you! Or well... how about both? Um... bye." You scurry off, head down. Fuck.
It sounded like she said "Both is good" as you turned away, but your head's spinning too fast to process. To prevent the situation from getting any more awkward (if that even was possible) you decide it's time to get out of her hair.
---
12 hours later, sitting in the hotel bed, your memories from the day roll back through your head. This is usual, but there's one moment this time that keeps playing over and over. When you approached her, it was only meant to give you peace of mind, to meet her, as a fan. But you only became more enamored, thinking about how kind she was, how beautiful she looked in real life, how sincere her smile was, how you could almost see sparks in her eyes, and... blah blah blah I could go on forever. But none of this was real. You came to the conclusion that you might just be obsessed. It is after all her job to provide her best customer service. Even before that, she dealt with thousands of crazed fans every day. There's no way any of these emotions you felt towards her were reciprocated (besides, of course, the embarrassment from such an awkward encounter).
Snapping out of it, you slowly rise from the bed. You pull the sheets to the side, noting a slight dampness to them, then stand to get dressed in the dirty clothes you wore the day prior. I need something to eat, you thought, grabbing your wallet and room key as you sluggishly venture down to the lobby for your midnight snack. The hallway feels impossibly long, the elevator ride even longer. It feels like it's morning already by the time you reach the lobby. Standing in front of the vending machine for far too long, you find that you're way too tired to read the machine, or even decide what you feel like eating. As one hand pushes some random numbers on the screen, the other draws your wallet out of your pocket. You instinctively pull your card, and swipe it (albeit after a few dreary tries) as you hear some plastic bag fall down the chasm, landing with a crunch. Though, you had more trouble than you should have when you went to put back the card. There's some crinkled slick paper stuffed in there. Digging down, and pulling out the culprit, you stop just before throwing it in the trash. It's your receipt from earlier, but there's handwriting on it. It's just numbers, hardly decipherable through your sleepy haze, but you can make out one thing for certain: after all the numbers is a cute little heart. All of a sudden you're wide awake. You know exactly what this means. She feels the same way about you.
Barely containing your excitement, you forget your snack in the vending machine then skip down the halls and back up to your room. Thankfully it's 3 AM so there's no one to see how stupid you look grinning from ear to ear, almost jumping through the building.
You spend the next hour thinking about what to say when you text her. Or should you call her? Nevertheless, it wasn't long before you worried yourself to sleep and began dreaming of what came next.
---
In the morning you sat at the breakfast table with Hyeju's number in your hand and her voice in your head. After too many drafts, you settled on "hey. it's me from the shop yesterday. i was thinking about you all night."
Less than five minutes later your phone rings: "finally. it took u too long, i was starting to think you would never message me :("
"sorry I just didn't want to annoy u"
"바보 im flirting with you, of course i want you to text me! besides, i missed talking with orbits"
"well i missed u too"
"you saw me less than a day ago.."
"still. you doing anything today?"
"just work. but i do know something that could make it better ;)"
---
Some time later you walk back into the bakery you left a day earlier. Your heart's beating just as fast as it was then, but the aroma of fresh bread filling the storefront and chill music calms you down. You approach the cute clerk at the front of the store, asking for Hyeju. She tells you in a high sing-songy voice "Hyeju's out back on break" as she adjusts her bangs. After walking through the store, and pushing through the back door, you see her. Sitting at a table, under the cover of an umbrella is the most beautiful woman you've ever seen. She's wearing tight jeans, legs crossed, accentuating the thickness of her thighs. She has a relatively loose-fitting shirt on, but her apron is tied so tightly at her waist it looks like her breasts are trying to break through it. You sit down at the empty patio chair next to her and begin catching up after she greets you with a welcoming smile. She details her experience after leaving the idol life, and you try your best not to fangirl too much. It still seems unreal how you're getting to know this person you've watched from behind a screen for so long.
Quickly your worries subside, as she makes you feel more comfortable than you would have ever expected. There's something in the way she conversated that could make anyone feel like they've known her for years. Every word was heartfelt:
"I missed this. Talking with the fans."
"I can only speak for myself, but I missed you so much too. To be honest I still watch your fancams to this day." Out of respect you don't bother asking why she never redebuted. Alas, that was the past, and here she is now, right in front of you.
"Oh, can't take your eyes off me huh?" She smirks.
"Well... uh... no. I really can't" you confess, as it was only now that you realized she couldn't take her eyes off of you either. In fact, you notice her looking you up and down as if she's sizing you up. Suddenly, it feels like this might be something more than just making friends. She continues with her teasing jokes, but you can only focus on the fireflies in her eyes. They're shining so bright it almost has you in a trance.
Out of nowhere she reaches over and puts her left hand on your thigh. After noticing the uncontrollable smile on your face, she begins squeezing her hand, kneading your skin through your pants. As you begin getting more comfortable with each other's touch, you reach out and caress her left shoulder. Slowly your fingers move down her short sleeve, finding their way underneath the hem. As your thumb slid across the tattoo on her arm, you can't help but peer down the collar of her shirt. Barely visible is the strap of her bra, which you can only now see because it seems like she's leaning towards you, like she wants you to see.
Your pants seem to be getting tighter. After this close contact with her, you didn't even notice something growing in your lap. Looking down at your legs you realize she's been slowly sliding her grip up your thigh. Now her fingers are just inches away from your crotch. There's no way she doesn't notice your erection pulling your pants taught. But before you can address it you're interrupted. "Shibal!"
Hyeju hurriedly gets up and composes herself, as you stay seated. You're not even disappointed that the quick contact didn't go any further than it did (although you wouldn't mind if it had). Just having a good conversation and holding each other was enough, and you could tell she appreciated it as much as you did. As she rushes back to work you shout out telling her to text you later once her shift is over.
---
A few painfully slow hours later you find yourself back in your hotel room when you hear a *knock knock*. You slowly walk through the dimly lit room, past the candles you bought at the front counter 5 minutes ago, and unlatch the door. Pulling it open, Hyeju stands in front of you in a perfectly modest outfit, though you can tell she put a lot of effort into making herself look nice for you. Her wavy brown hair falls over the shoulders of her long sleeve shirt. Her hair flows down either side of her chest, but it can't cover how round and full her breasts are. After staring in awe at her beauty for a moment she quickly pulls you in to a deep hug. They feel even bigger than they look. You make sure to savor this moment, soaking in her presence, inhaling her perfume. "You look great" as you leave her embrace with a smile.
"So you do," she flatters you, even though you both know you look the same as you did hours ago.
"Sorry I would've packed nicer clothes if I knew I was gonna meet up with my celebrity crush" you admit as you lead her to the couch.
"Oh, what is this?" She examines the wine bottle on the table, pondering "how much was this? You shouldn't have bought this expensive wine just for me."
"It's ok. I want you to have a good time."
"You know you don't have to impress me with fancy gifts. I'm already into you" she confesses, sweetly tilting her head as she looks into your eyes.
"Well I already bought it, so we might as well drink it."
You begin pouring two glasses, but almost spill the wine when you glance up. She's sat down on the couch, the meat of her thighs spreading out under her light denim jeans. So soft. I could fall asleep on those.
"What?"
I said that out loud? "Sorry I can't help but admire your perfect body."
"Well how about you come and admire it from up close." She lets out a quick laugh as you walk around the table and she welcomes you to the couch. Once there, she wastes no time, taking your hand and guiding it down her thigh. You continue squeezing as she turns on the TV and begins sipping her wine. But the movie couldn't matter less to you, you had your hands full.
The two of you spend the next hour drinking, talking, and touching. With only a few drops of wine left, Hyeju suggests something: "wanna have some fun?"
---
"Wait! Don't get my makeup wet!" Hyeju shouted, far too late. As you rise up, breaking the surface of the water for the second time, you look towards Hyeju, chest deep in the pool. She sports a big, soaking frown. But just as quickly as you jumped into the pool, a devious grin replaced her frown. "I hate you..."
"Oops..."
She didn't care about her makeup or hair getting wet. She just wanted you to know how much she cared to present herself for you. You slowly wade towards each other, now less than a foot away face to face. Her dark red eye shadow dripped down from her eyes like they were bleeding and her wet hair falling straight down made her look almost scary. Kinda hot. Her flat resting face only added to it (something you had always found strangely attractive about her). She can look like some apathetic snob from the outside, but that was part of her allure. Looking down from her face, you can see her plump boobs, pushed up by her bra, as the water soothingly lapped around their curves. A breathtaking sight, but one that she didn't let you take in for long, since it was her time for payback. After pulling you in close and making you vulnerable, she launches her attack, splashing you with water from both sides. A respectable play, you thought. With nowhere to run, you drop back under the surface, only to be stunned in awe once again. Your face, now a mere few inches from her stomach, pivoted up and down. From her smooth tummy down to her thick thighs down to her treading feet she is stunning even through your chlorine filled eyes.
Before you know it, she grabs you by the arms and drags you back up to the surface, "are you okay?"
"No I think I need CPR" you say, as you feign a coughing fit.
"Well if it's an emergency, I guess I should give you mouth to mouth" she jeered while continuing to pull you closer.
You wrap your arms around her back, grabbing onto her shoulders while she tightens her grip on your waist. As she leans in, she closes her eyes, and you shortly after follow suit. The first contact is with her plump lower lip. Your top teeth latch on. Her triangular mouth makes this especially easy, leaving her bottom lip wide open for your affection. Not long after, you feel a wet soft pressure on your top lip. You relax your mouth, then you're penetrated by her tongue. Your own tongue meets hers as they begin to dance inside your mouth, then they slide their way into hers. She lets out a soft moan at the transition, causing you to open your eyes. Realizing it must have been over two minutes, you slowly separate, before diving right back in for another passionate minute.
The moment is only broken when she retreats to say "oh?" Snapping back to reality, you notice your cock is pressed against a soft surface through your briefs. But she doesn't shy away from the sudden contact, rather she pushes her feet off the pool floor, raising her up and down as her thighs slide against your cock. You're tempted to pull it out and thigh fuck her under the water, but stop because you don't want it to escalate too fast. This turns out to be a good choice because moments later a kid comes bursting through the door into the pool room. Quickly backing away before her parents follow her in, Hyeju reads your mind: "let's take this somewhere a little more private."
Dripping wet and wrapped in towels, you barely bother to dry off before making your way back to the room. Hyeju directs you, and you follow like her pet. She softly pushes you backwards onto the bed and reaches for the other bottle of red you picked up from the lobby. She uncorks it and begins climbing on top of you. Now straddling your legs, she pulls your underwear down, trying to hide her excitement when your erection pops up from your waistband. After tasting some for herself, she tilts the wine bottle over, funneling it into your mouth, while your hands reach around her back to unlatch her bra. "The wine is good, but I can't wait to taste you" she whispers with a devilish grin.
"Wait. Can I tell you something?"
"Hmm?" She says, leaning back, still eyeing your cock.
"I've kinda... never done this before..."
With the way you kissed earlier she never would have guessed. Still, it was awkward to admit this, for the fear of slowing down the momentum, or even shutting down the encounter altogether. But you needed this. Here's the perfect chance, with the perfect woman. With the perfect tits too, you think, after finally undoing her bra, and seeing her boobs hanging down. She was, as expected, understanding, promising to go slow.
She leans forward, pushing your back flat against the bed, with her body almost lying atop yours. You feel her hand softly wrap around your cock, only making it harder (if that was even possible). She begins stroking, her grip moving up and down your shaft, while her tits lightly swing back and forth in front of your face. She steadily increases her pace, leaning in, and peppering your face with kisses. You pull her closer, reciprocating the affection, and now the only thing between you are her boobs, which feel softer than the pillows beneath you. As her chest and--
"Umnph- fuck" you whimper after prematurely exploding, shooting your load up all over your stomach and hers. She lets out a giggle as she pushes herself up, looking down at the mess in between you. Stick strands stretching from her tummy to yours, like a melted marshmallow between graham crackers. Without hesitation she shifts down your legs, and starts lapping up the cum that's pooling on your body.
"What the-" you blurt out while she licks your abs from top to bottom. "Sorry, I didn't mean to-"
"It's ok," she reassures you "it's a good thing. It means you liked it."
"I loved it. I'm just sorry I couldn't last longer."
"Well since you made such a big mess, I guess we have to clean up now." She crawls off the bed, scurrying away to the bathroom, teasing, "you coming?"
You lay back on the bed, feeling half embarrassment, half satisfaction. Who knew Hyeju would be such a freak, diving down at the first opportunity to slurp up every last drop of your semen. Her straightforwardness made you lust after her unbelievably hard. The distant sound of water falling emanates from the next room as you get up, feeling wet and sticky. Though you aren't sure whether it's from swimming, sweat, or your own cum.
The room's already steaming when you walk in, and Hyeju has her back to you. She's leaning over, and pulls down her panties just as you walk through the door, making sure she gives you a good view. As she arches her back, sticking her fat ass out, you creep forward with your hands outstretched like a zombie. She stands up straight and lets out a soft moan when you grab her butt. Your unoccupied hand reaches around her body and grabs her tit, while she turns her head, and you lean in to kiss her. You embrace her closely, and your member starts to rise once again, something she notices gleefully. "Wow, you're hard again already?"
The two of you drunkenly stumble into the shower, never loosening your grip on each other. I don't ever want to let go. Now facing each other, water splashing on your back, you once again get lost in her eyes. She grabs your now fully erect penis, and slides it in between her thick thighs. She pumps her hips while flexing her muscles around you. Tighter and tighter the gap between her legs becomes, and more and more blood continues to engorge your cock. She repeatedly shifts her body forward and back, almost robotically, like a wind up toy. She knows just how to turn your gears. You start to feel it go numb, as your cock, lubricated with water, slides between her meaty thighs. Exhaling deeply, you can smell the wine in her breath through the humid air. Starting to get dizzy as the blood rushes from your brain to your waist, you pull out of her love cage.
After a brief respite, she draws you back in, "come on. My mouth is getting bored." You lean against the warm shower wall as she crawls down to her knees. She puts your dick in her mouth, and she says something else, too muffled for you to make out. Her lips wrap around your tip, and she slowly pushes deeper. Her lips create the perfect amount of suction around your head, like her mouth was made for you. Thankfully you already came, or else you would've busted the second she laid her lips on you. After the embarrassment earlier, you're determined to last longer, and give her a better time. At least, that's what you thought until she swallowed all of you.
"Nnngg Hyeju.. slow down. I can't hold on."
Her lust filled eyes peer up at you, and she nods in encouragement. Well, she was already bobbing her head so you couldn't really tell, but she slowed her pace. She brought her focus back to your tip, gripping the base with one hand, the other massaging your balls. Your head rolls back and your eyes roll even further. She lets out soft moans, barely audible over the splashing water. Your eyes are closed in euphoria, but you can feel her tilt her head to the sides, circling around your girth, making sure her tongue reaches every inch. I think I'm gonna pass out, then almost knowingly Hyeju reaches a hand up, caressing your abs, grounding you. You respond by grabbing her hair, twisting the dark strands between your fingers. "Mmm your body is so hot" she seemingly says, between gargles.
You retreat from her mouth, both of you taking a breather. She looks up at you like a whining puppy, but you're her pet tonight. "Can we pause-"
"No," she interrupts, "you're going to give me every last drop."
Her sharp attitude contrasts with the misty vapor surrounding the room. Right now it's only you and her, in a grey abyss. You have no idea how long it's been since you started. She's taken you to another planet, making sure you enjoyed the ride. She can tell that you're nearing climax, then picks up the speed, her head bobbing faster and faster. The vacuum of her mouth pulls until you can't hold it any longer.
Tasting the pre-cum, she slides you out and lowers her face right beneath your waistline. She guides your hand to the base of your erection, both squeezing, taking aim at her face. "Fuck, Hye--" The first cum shot flies out uncontrollably, missing Hyeju for the shower wall. You interrupted her reactive giggle as the ecstasy swells, and more shots burst out. The silky ropes drape over her face, one after the other. Her tongue is poking out a little, licking her lips as strands land, from her chin all the way into her hair. After you calm down, you take a moment to admire your painting as she stands up reaching eye level. She makes sure to stay out of the shower stream, as if she's wearing her new mask as a prize. Breathing heavily, you close your eyes as Hyeju embraces you, beginning to rub soap over your body.
Your partner doesn't let go for the rest of the wash, drying you off softly. No words are uttered, just peaceful eye contact. After leaving the bathroom, you're surprised by the sunrise peeking through the curtains. "Shit, it's morning? I need to check out."
You just began hurriedly putting on your clothes when you hear a dial tone across the room. It's Hyeju calling the front desk.
"Hi, we're actually staying a bit longer than we expected. Can we extend our room reservation for a few more days?"
-----
Thanks for taking the time to read :) feedback is appreciated
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OC x Yujin (5712 words) Commissioned fic! Thanks @jmuns-kpop for proofreading. Filthy fic with pits and feet, so if that is not your thing feel free to skip.
You have never been a lucky person, and over time that turns into a lifestyle, an almost instinctive belief that things will go wrong at the worst possible moment. It is never anything dramatic, life-ruining. Just small, persistent misfortune that follows you around. Being the one asked to give up your seat on an overbooked flight. Getting splashed by a passing bus just as you think you have made it through the rain unscathed. Or having your phone die right when you need it most, like at the payment counter,leaving you standing there awkwardly as the line builds behind you.
And most unfortunately, concert tickets.
Being a fan of IVE was already competitive enough. Every comeback, every showcase, every fan meeting, it all vanishes within seconds. You tried everything. Multiple devices. Constant refreshing. But you are just never that lucky one. Then again, that is not surprising. Like everything else in your life, the opportunity always slips just out of reach.
So close, yet never close enough.
But not going is never an option.
Not when it comes to them.
Not when it comes to her.
Ahn Yujin.
So you adapt. Or maybe you just give in. Scalper prices become routine and painful to the wallet but necessary. Every event, every fan meeting, every chance to see her means another dent in your wallet, another quiet sigh when you check your balance. Still, you tell yourself it is worth it. Because seeing them up close, hearing the music live, that is something you cannot replace.
And Yujin… She makes it all feel justified.
There is something about her that keeps pulling you back. Not just her stage presence, though that alone is enough, but the way she interacts with fans. Warm and mischievous. The kind of smile that feels like it is hiding something, like she knows more than she lets on. Every time you see it, it lingers long after the event ends. But what drives you really feral for her, is how sexy she looks in sweat, after her intense performance. You lowkey wish you would be that towel that she uses to clean herself every time.
At first, you are just another face in the crowd.
One of many.
Easily forgettable.
That is what you tell yourself.
So the first time she looks at you, you brush it off immediately. Just a coincidence. The kind of thing fans like to turn into something bigger than it is.
But then it happens again.
And again.
A glance that lingers just a second longer than it should. A moment during a fan signing that feels… different. Slightly more personal, even if you cannot explain why. You tell yourself not to overthink it. People would call it delusion, and honestly, they might not be wrong.
But what is hope without a little imagination?
You hold onto that thought more than you should.
And then comes the moment of what you deem as a highlight in your life.
At one of the fan signing events, when it is finally your turn, she pauses.
Her pen hovers above the page as her eyes meet yours.
“I’ve seen you before, right?”
For a second, everything else disappears.
The noise, the crowd, the nerves,even the thought of your bank balance,it all falls silent.
Your heart nearly stops.
You nod, barely aware of yourself, and she smiles back at you.
Not the practiced, automatic smile she gives hundreds of fans, but something you want to believe is more genuine. Then she writes your name slowly, carefully, as if she intends to remember it this time.
You walk away in a daze, the signed album clutched tightly in your hands, replaying the moment over and over in your head, half-convinced it never really happened.
But it did.
Because now, every time you see her, it feels different.
Like she recognizes you.
Like somehow, against all odds and misfortune, you are no longer invisible.
Your wallet may be in ruins, and your decisions questionable at best… but your heart?
Your heart has never felt fuller.
Put simply—you are a simp.
Down bad for Yujin.
But at least you are a very happy one.
That is why the letter in your hands now feels so unreal.
You reread it five times before your hands stop shaking.
“Congratulations! You’ve been selected for a backstage meeting with Yujin.”
A raffle.
And somehow—you are that lucky one.
You have followed everything since her debut, and now, backstage With her?
That is a moment you will never forget.
==
The venue feels different the moment you cross the barriers and step deeper into the concert area.
Out front, it is loud, fans shouting their bias’ name, bodies packed tightly together in the usual sold-out chaos.
Back here, it is quiet.
A staff member leads you down a narrow hallway, your footsteps echoing softly against the walls.
“Wait here,” they say. “The encore stage should be over soon.”
Then the staff, leaving you on your own.
You look around.
The room is small—likely Yujin’s personal space. A dressing room. A rack of outfits is pushed to one side. You skim through the dresses, recognizing more than you expect—pieces she has worn before, moments you remember vividly.
It feels surreal.
Like you have stepped into a place you were never meant to see.
And then out of the corner of your eye, something catches your attention. On the table, something out of place. You notice a laced fabric, hanging loosely on the table. You told yourself to ignore it, you really should. But curiosity got the better of you and you stepped closer.
On the table lies a slightly damped black lace panties, slightly crumpled , as if they were torn off in haste. Your pulse kicks up, throbbing in your throat. You shouldn’t. You know you shouldn’t. But the thought of her wearing them, the way they’d mold to her hips, the way the dampness would cling to her, fuck, you can’t resist.
“This is where it goes wrong” you murmur to yourself quietly.
You lean forward, fingers trembling as you reach out, brushing the fabric between your thumb and forefinger. It’s soft, almost weightless, but the warmth lingers, like she just stepped out of them. Your cock twitches, pressing against the zipper of your slacks, already half-hard from the thought alone. Then you see it, the dark, glistening patch right at the crotch. Your stomach flips. That’s her. That’s the proof of her arousal, the slick evidence of how wet she gets. The musk hits you before you even bring them to your nose, sweet, tangy, and your self-control snaps.
You lift the panties to your face, inhaling deep.
god.
The scent is intoxicating, warm, thick with the salt of her sweat and the unmistakable musk of her pussy. Your cock jerks, straining painfully now, pre-cum already beading at the tip. You breathe her in again, slower this time, letting the scent fill your lungs, your head, your fucking soul. This is after all your favourite idol and experiencing her in a more intimate way made you lose your mind. The lace sticks to your lips, the dampness transferring to your skin, and you groan, low and needy, your free hand dropping to palm yourself through your pants. Just one more whiff, just one more taste, before you stop and pretend nothing happens.
“Enjoying yourself?”
Your entire body locks up.
Yujin’s voice is amused, dripping with the kind of confidence you see on stage. You yank the panties away from your face like you’ve been burned, but it’s too late. She’s already seen. Fuck, she’s standing right there, one brow arched, her lips curves into a smirk that’s equal parts predatory and delighted. She’s dressed in a black dress that hugs her curves, likely her encore outfit, the neckline dipping just enough to show her cleavage. Her bare feet, fuck, her feet, are planted on the plush rug, toes painted a dark, glossy red, the same color as her nails.
“Didn’t peg you for a panty-sniffer, after all that fan meetings” she smirks while stepping closer. The scent of her perfume wraps around you, but beneath it, you can still smell her, the real her, the one that’s soaked into the lace you’re still clutching like a lifeline. There are a lot of other concerns you should be thinking of right now, but your mind is still hazy from your arousal of Yujin’s scent.
Your face burns. “I—I wasn’t—”
“Lying to me already?” She tsks, shaking her head as she circles you, her hips swaying with every step. The dress rides up just a little higher, giving you a flash of smooth thigh. “That’s not how this works, pet. You don’t get to pretend you weren’t just huffing my used panties like a desperate little slut.”
The word slut lands like a physical blow, sending a jolt straight to your cock. You whimper, your grip tightening on the lace, and she notices. Her smirk deepens.
“Oh, you like that, don’t you?” She stops right in front of you, close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off her skin. Her hand lifts, fingers trailing down your cheek, then lower, over your throat, pressing just enough to make you swallow hard. “You like being called what you are. A filthy, panty-sniffing slut”
You should be ashamed. You are ashamed. But the way she’s looking at you, like she’s already decided how she’s going to use you, makes your cock throb painfully. Pre-cum leaks through the fabric of your slacks, sticky and hot.
Yujin’s gaze drops to your crotch, and she grins. “Look at you. Already leaking for me.” Her fingers leave your throat, skimming down your chest, over your stomach, before she suddenly grips your cock through your pants. You gasp, hips jerking upward, but she squeezes, her nails digging in just enough to make you whine. “Pathetic. You’re hard just from smelling me.”
“Y-Yujin—”
“Shh.” She presses a finger to your lips, silencing you. “You don’t get to talk unless I say so. Understand?”
You nod, your breath coming in short, sharp pants. Her finger drags down, tracing the shape of your lips before she pulls away, leaving them tingling.
“Good.” She steps back, just out of reach, and you ache for her touch already. “Now. Since you’re so obsessed with my scent…” She gestures to the panties still clutched in your white-knuckled grip. “Keep sniffing. And stroke that desperate little cock for me. Let me see how much of a slut you are.”
Your stomach twists, but your hand is already moving, fumbling with your belt, your zipper. The sound of the metal teeth parting is obscenely loud in the quiet room. Yujin watches, her eyes gleaming, as you free your cock. It’s flushed, leaking, the head already slick with pre-cum. You wrap your fingers around the shaft, stroking once, twice, the pleasure almost painful after being denied for so long.
“That’s it,” she murmurs. “Fuck your hand like you wish you could fuck me.”
You groan, your hips lifting off the chair that you had tumbled into after losing strength in your legs, as you stroke faster, your other hand bringing the panties back to your face. The scent hits you again, richer now, and you moan, the sound broken & needy. Yujin simply laughs at how much control she has over this situation.
“Louder,” she commands. “I want to hear how much you love my smell. How much you need it. How much you need me”
“I—I do,” you gasp, your strokes turning jerky, desperate. “Fuck, Yujin, I need—”
“Need what?” She steps forward again, her bare foot pressing against your knee, sliding upward, over your thigh. “Say it.”
“I need you,” you choke out, your face burning. “I need to breathe you in. Please—”
“Please what?” Her foot slides higher, her toes brushing against your balls, and you jolt, your cock twitching in your grip. “Use your words, pet. Beg properly.”
“Please let me taste you,” you whimper, your voice cracking. “Let me worship you. I’ll do anything—”
“Anything?” She hums, her foot retreating just as you lean into the touch. You whine, your cock throbbing in protest. “Prove it.”
Before you can process what she means, she’s lifting her foot, planting her sole against your chest and pushing. You topple back, landing on the rug with a thud, your cock still gripped in your hand, the panties pressed to your face. Yujin looms over you, her dress riding up as she hovers over your chest, her covered pussy right there, just inches from your face. The scent of her is overwhelming, sweet, musky, perfect and your cock aches.
“Lick,” she orders. You would think she was referring to her intimate part but no. Yujin shifts her weight so her foot presses down on your sternum, pinning you. “Start with my feet. Show me how much you love my scent.”
You don’t hesitate. After all, you love every part of her.
Your tongue darts out, dragging up the arch of her foot, tasting the salt of her sweat, the faintest hint of her perfume. She tastes divine, and you groan against her skin, your cock leaking onto your stomach. Yujin shivers, her toes curling, and you take it as encouragement, licking again, this time from her heel to her toes, sucking each one into your mouth, worshipping them like they’re the most sacred things you’ve ever touched.
“Good,” she breathes, her voice trembling just a little. “Just like that. Now the other one.”
You obey, switching feet, lavishing the same attention on her left, your free hand still stroking your cock in slow, desperate pulls. The panties are mashed against your face, the lace sticking to your cheek, the scent of her pussy mixing with the taste of her skin. It’s too much yet at the same time It’s not enough.
Yujin shifts again, this time lifting her dress, baring her thighs to you. The sight of her,all of her, makes your cock jerk, pre-cum dripping down your shaft. She’s glistening, her swollen lips could be seen through her panties, it seems she is equally turned on by this situation. But she doesn’t let you touch. Instead, she grabs you by collar and pulls you into her before lifting her arm, pressing her armpit to your face.
“Sniff,” she commands, her voice thick with arousal. “Tell me how much you love my naughty scent.”
You inhale deep, and fuck, she smells even stronger here, the musk of her sweat and her pussy mixing into something primal, something that makes your head spin. Your cock throbs, your balls drawing up tight.
“I—I love it,” you gasp, your voice muffled against her skin. “I need it. Please, Yujin—”
“Please what? I told you to use your words properly” She grinds her armpit against your face, her other foot pressing down on your cock, stroking it with her sole. The pleasure is agonising, the friction just enough to make you whimper. “You want to cum? You want to drown in my scent?”
“Yes!” The word tears out of you, raw and desperate. “Please, please—”
“Beg,” she whispers, her breath hot against your ear as she leans down, her armpit still smothering you. “Beg like the pathetic sniffing slave & boy toy you are.”
“I’m your slave,” you sob, your hips bucking up into the pressure of her foot. “I’m your pathetic sniffing slave. Please, let me cum. Let me worship you.”
Her foot strokes faster, her toes curling around your shaft, and you break. Your orgasm crashes over you, brutal and overwhelming, cum spurring up in thick ropes. You cry out, your body shuddering as she milks every last drop from you with her foot.
Yujin watches, her lips parted, her breath coming fast. When you finally collapse back against the rug, spent and trembling, she leans down, her lips brushing your ear.
“Good boy,” Her fingers tangle in your hair, yanking your head back. Her other hand presses the panties back to your face, smothering you. “You’re going to beg for more.”
Your cock twitches weakly against your thigh, spent but already stirring again under her words. Then she suddenly grabs your wrists, yanking them together above your head. The lace panties, - her panties - is wrenched from your face and wound tightly around your wrists into a makeshift bind. The knots though loose, are efficient enough to remind you who is in control.
“There,” Yujin, moves back, admiring her handiwork.
“Now you’re properly useless.”
Yujin stood over you with one leg on each side of your ribs, ensuring that you have a perfect view of her most intimate parts.
“Open that filthy mouth,” she commands, nudging your jaw with her foot. “I’m not done using it.”
You obey instantly, lips parting as she shifts her stance, one foot sliding up to press against your cheek. “Good slave,” You see Yujin begin hooking her thumbs into the waistband of her own panties and peeling them down her thighs with deliberate slowness. Yujin didn’t bother stepping out of them entirely. Instead she uses the panties as a makeshift cloth to mop at the mess of her feet, wiping the last traces of your cum from her arches and toes with a few efficient swipes. Even the sight of her cleaning herself with her own underwear, makes your cock jerk despite the exhaustion from your previous orgasm. You were down so bad for her. She tosses the soiled fabric aside, then turns to you, her ass hovering just above your face.
“Let’s put this filthy mouth to good use, lick,” she orders, not even bother glancing back.
“And don’t you dare stop until I say so.”
The first press of her pussy against your mouth was overwhelming. She was already wet, her folds slick and swollen, the taste of her sharp and intoxicating. You groan against her, tongue flattening to lap at her. She tastes sweet, just like how you imagine her to be. She rewards you with a slow, deliberate grind, her thighs squeezing your head as she settles her weight onto your face. The rug scratched at your back, but you barely noticed. All you could focus on was the way her muscles tensed when you circle her entrance, the way her breath hitches when you flicked your tongue against her clit.
“That’s it,” she gasps, her fingers tangling in your hair, yanking just hard enough to make your scalp sting. “Worship this pussy like the pathetic little cumslut you are.” She rocks forward, her ass pressing against your nose, the musky scent of her filling your senses. You didn’t hesitate, your tongue spearing into her tight hole, lapping at the sensitive skin until she shuddered. “Fuck—yes—” Her free hand dropped to her clit, rubbing in tight, frantic circles as she uses your mouth like it was nothing more than a toy designed for her pleasure.
Then her foot was back, this time wrapping around your cock. The arch of her sole slid along your shaft, her toes curling around the base, stroking you with maddening precision. You buck into the touch instinctively, but she stops, her grip tightening just enough to still you. “Uh-uh,”her voice was breathy but firm. “You don’t get to cum again until I do. Understand?” She punctuates the question by grinding down harder, her pussy flooding your mouth with fresh wetness.
You nod as best you could, muffled by her flesh on you.
“Such a good little slut for me,” “Taking my pussy on that pretty face, letting me use your cock like it’s mine…” Her toes teased your slit, gathering the bead of pre-cum there before smearing it down your length. “You’d let me do anything, wouldn’t you?”
You moan in response, the vibration making her gasp. Her thighs tremble, movements getting more frantic as she chases her own release. “Fuck, just like that—don’t stop—” Her voice breaks on a whine, her pussy clenching around your tongue as she came, her juices coating your chin, your lips, dripping down your throat. You swallow every drop, drunk on the taste of her, your cock throbbing in her foot’s grip as she continues to milk you through her orgasm.
For a long moment, she simply sat there, her chest heaving, her weight pinning you to the rug. Then she shifts, turning to face you, her knees straddling your chest as she lowers herself until her mouth reaches her throbbing cock. “You earned this,” her hand wrapping around your cock, giving it a slow, teasing stroke. “But don’t think for a second you’re getting off that easy.”
Before you could process what she means, her lips parts around the head of your cock. The wet heat of her mouth was almost too much. She takes you deep, her throat fluttering around your tip as she swallows, her tongue working the underside with expert precision. You moan, your bound wrists twisting against the lace as you fought the urge to thrust up into that perfect, suffocating warmth.
Yujin pulls off with a wet pop, her lips glistening. “Mmm, you taste desperate,” she teases, before diving back down, her mouth sealing around you again. You could feel her tongue swirling, her cheeks hollowing, the way her throat constricts around you when she took you to the base.
But just as the pressure in your balls becomes unbearable, she pulls away entirely, leaving you gasping. “Not yet” “You don’t get to cum until I say so.” “I’m going to ride this cock until you’re nothing but a dripping, used up mess.”
Yujin moves to straddle you, then in one smooth motion, she sinks down onto you, taking every inch. The heat of her was heavenly, tight, dripping, clenching around you like she was going to milk you dry. Her nails dig into your chest as she starts to ride you. Her hips rolling in deep , grinding circles.
“Remember pet, you don’t cum, until I’m done with you. Understand?”
Every time she bottoms you out, you would feel her hard clit drag against your pelvis, and you feel the way her pussy clenches even tighter. But she wasn’t going to let herself go so easily. Not while she still have you to torture.
Yujin reaches behind her and unclasps her bra, letting the straps slide down her arms before tossing it aside. Her breasts spilled free, heavy and swaying with each sharp snap of her hips. You watch, mesmerized, as she arches her back, lifting her arms above her head in a stretch that made her tits jut out, her nipples hard and begging for attention. But that wasn’t what she wanted from you.
“Lick,” and again you did not hesitate.
You surge upward, tongue pressing into the damp, musky hollow of her armpit. Again the scent of her floods your senses , making your cock twitch violently inside her. She moans, thighs trembling as she keeps riding you, her pace never faltering even as you lap at her like a starving man. Fuck, you’re such a dirty boy," she gasps, "You love this, don’t you? Love how I smell, love how I use you."
You continue tasting her switching to the other arm, tongue tracing the delicate lines of her underarm, and the slickness of her sweat. She tastes just like a drug, one you can never get enough of. Your cock throbs, trapped inside her tight heat and you could feel your orgasm building. But her words echo in your head, her denial preventing you from letting go fully.
Yujin must’ve sensed how close you are. She leans back, prying you away from her glistening underarms, bracing her hands on your thighs as she changes the angle, her pussy clenching around you in a way that makes your toes curl. Then, she lifts one foot and presses the sole against your cheek. You open instantly, parting your lips as she pushes her foot against your mouth again.
The taste of her skin continues to fill your mouth as you lick the arch of her foot, your tongue swirling over her toes, the ball of her sole, anywhere she presses against you. She kept fucking you through it, her hips slamming down harder now, her breath coming in shorter gasps. "That’s it," she panted, "worship me while I use this cock. You’re mine, aren’t you? Just a toy for me to ride until I’m satisfied."
Your cock was so hard it aches, your balls drawn up tight, your entire body coiling like a spring. You were so close, but you wouldn’t dare cum. Not without permission. Not when she was still using you like this, still owning you.
Then, with a broken cry, Yujin’s body locks up. Her pussy clenches around you like a vise, her thighs shaking as she comes, her release soaking your cock in hot, pulsing waves. "Fuck—! Oh god, yes—"* Her voice was raw, her nails raking on your thighs as she rode out her orgasm, her foot still pressing against your face, smothering you in her scent.
Yujin sat there post orgasm, her chest heaving, her pussy fluttering around you like she was milking the last drops of pleasure from her climax. Then, with a slow, satisfied exhale, she finally pulled her foot away from your mouth and lean forward, bracing her hands on your chest as she looked down at you.
"Wow," "Even you can make me cum." She smirks, rolling her hips once, twice, just to watch you whimper. "Pathetic, really. But I suppose you’ve earned something."
Yujin lifts herself off you, her pussy making an obscene, wet sound as your cock slips free. You groan at the loss of her heat, your cock throbbing painfully. Yujin didn’t give you time to beg. She shifts forward, straddling your hips, her ass pressing against your cock as she reaches between her legs and wraps her fingers around you.
"Cum for me," "All over me."
That was all it took. The image of you painting her was sufficient.
Your orgasm hit you hard, your cock jerking violently in her grip as thick ropes of cum shot out, splattering across her stomach, her breasts, her collarbone. She gasps as the first hot streak paints her skin, her fingers tightening around you as she milks every last drop. "Look at you," "Such a naughty boy, covering me in your mess."
You collapse back against the rug, your chest heaving, your cock still twitching weakly as the last of your release dripped onto your stomach. Yujin leans down, her cum-slicked body pressing against yours as she captures your mouth in a deep, filthy kiss, her tongue sweeping in to claim you all over again.
“Good toy, you did so well for me”
“I was right about my judgement you really are such an easy bait.”
Despite your exhaustion, the statement cuts through the fog in your head, leaving you confused.
“Bait?” you manage. “What do you mean?”
“You really thought I left those panties there by accident?” She tilts her head. “I know you’re too weak to resist. Such a predictable little pet. From all the fan meetings, I can tell… you’re down bad. The type who would do anything just to get closer to me.”
The words hit like a slap.
Your muscles tense instantly, clearing whatever haze you have in your head
Predictable. Weak. Bait.
She had played you.
Everything you have believed that meant something—her smiles, the way she looks at you, the small moments you cling to—none of it is real. It is all part of her plan. Just a way to toy with you.
To her, you are never special.
Just easy.
Memories of your unlucky life flash through your mind, one after another, like a pattern you can no longer ignore. And now it clicks.
This isn’t luck.
You don’t win anything, not even this raffle and backstage experience.
She had manipulated the outcome.
Something coiled within your gut.
Before she could react, you surge upward, grabbing her wrists and twisting. Yujin yelps as you flip her onto her back, her legs splaying open as you pin her down. Her eyes widening in shock, like she hasn't expected you to fight back. Good. Let her be surprised.
"Oh, so the little bitch has teeth?" She smirks even as you press her arms above her head. "Took you long enough.”
You didn’t answer. Instead, you reach for the damp black lace near you, her panties, the ones she’d used to bind you just hours ago. The elastic still stretched from when she’d wrapped it around your wrists. Now it was her turn.
Yujin’s breath hitches as you loop the pace around her wrists, pulling tight. “Wait–”
“Shut the fuck up” You knotted the panties, yanking it hard to keep her restrain.
She tested the bind, tugging experimentally. “Not bad,” “But you’re still not —-mmmph!”
You cut her off by shoving the other pair of panties, the one who was wearing previously , still damp from her own arousal into her mouth. Her eyes flare in protest, but you didn't give her time to spit them out. Instead you clamp down on her mouth, forcing her to keep them. “Shut up brat, you talk way too fucking much.”
Yujin’s muffled noise vibrates against your palm. She glares, but there was something else there—something more needy. She likes this.
Fine. You’d give her exactly what she wanted.
You didn’t bother with any more foreplay. Your cock was already stirring back to life as you line yourself up against her. Yujn’s thighs tremble as you drag the head through her folds, her pussy still slick from her own climax. She was dripping, her body betraying her even as she tries to look defiant.
"You’re already wet for me," pressing just the tip inside. "Such a slut for being used."
Her hips jerks, trying to take more, but you pull back. Yujin whines around the gag, her bound wrists twisting against the lace. You smack her thigh hard.
"Did I say you could move?"
She shakes her head, but her eyes burn with challenge. Fuck me harder, they said. I dare you.
Oh, you’d take that dare.
You slam into her in one brutal thrust. Yujin’s back arches off the rug, a choked scream tearing from her throat as you bottom her out. Her pussy clenches around you, tight like she’d been waiting for this the whole time. You didn’t give her a second to adjust. Pulling out almost all the way, you drove back in, your hips snapping against hers with enough force to bruise.
You grab her hips, fingers digging into the soft flesh as you set a punishing rhythm. The rug burns against your knees, the friction rough, but you didn’t care. All that mattered was the way her body took you, the way her breath hitches every time you hit that spot deep inside her.
"You like that?" you lean down to bite her nipple. She cries out, her back arching. "You like being fucked like the little slut you are, baiting me like I’m you toy?"
Yujin’s answer was a garbled noise, but her pussy flutters around your cock, her thighs shaking. You smacked her ass watching the way her skin pinked under your hand.
Then an idea pops in your head… You wanted her to see it.
With a growl, you haul her up by her bound wrists and turn her around, dragging her toward the full-length mirror propped against the wall. Yujin stumbles, her legs unsteady, but you didn’t let her fall. Instead, you bent her over, pressing her chest against the cool glass. Her reflection stares back.
"Look," you commanded, gripping her hip with one hand while the other tangled in her hair, yanking her head up. "Look at how fucking slutty you are."
Yujin’s breath fogs the mirror as you thrust back into her. Her bound hands scraped against the glass, her fingers splaying as she tried to find a balance. You didn’t let up. Each snap of your hips drove her forward, her tits smashing against the mirror.
"You love this," watching her reflection. "You love being used like a fucking toy. I bet this is all part of your plan too, right?"
Her eyes lock onto yours in the glass, with the same mischievous eyes. Indeed this is all within her plans. You were physically in control, but playing very well into the hands of Yujin. But now , none of that matters. You continue thrusting into Yujin and seeing her pussy clench every time you bottom her out , you knew she was close.
You reach around, finding her clit with your fingers. "Cum for me," you ordered, rubbing in tight, punishing circles. "Cum like the good little whore you are."
Yujin’s muffled scream shattered the air as her orgasm hit. Her pussy pulses around your cock, her body shuddering violently as you kept fucking her through it. The mirror fogs with her ragged breaths, her reflection a mess of flushed skin.
And then you were cumming, burying yourself to the hilt as you paint her walls with thick, hot spurts. Yujin’s body clenches around you, milking every last drop as her own climax starts to fade.
You stay like that, both of you breathing hard, your body still twitching inside hers. Then, slowly, you pull out, watching as your cum drips down her thighs.
Yujin leans against the glass, her reflection a ruin. She looked used. Perfect.
You reached up, untangling the panties from her wrists. Her arms dropped limply to her sides as she spits out the gag. Before you collapse to the floor, totally spent.
“You are the perfect little pet” As you come to your senses, you see Yujin, starts to dress up and clean herself. “You can keep this, your reward for being a good pet“ she tosses the panties towards you. It seems rage baiting you was part of her plan to make you fuck her hard too.
“I will contact you again, to be another “Lucky” raffle winner” I guess your life is still the same, you were never truly lucky but at least today you become an Ahnlucky pervert.
A/N: Nothing much to be said, but I hope you enjoy the next path into the Blackhole!
“Teacher! Teacher! What happened to the giant in the end?!”
“Yea yea! We wanna know!”
“Did he die?”
“Noooo! He can't die! He's a GIANT!”
“Let us know! Let us know! Let us know nooow!”
“Now now, remember what I said about shouting? Fingers on your lips while I tell you, ” you sigh and smile at them. Fingers raised to their lips, you continue, “This is the end of this volume, so Teacher will have to go and find the next one. There may be a chance that it will take some time, but I trust that you all will be good kids that will wait patiently right?”
“What?? Nooo!”
“That means there’s a chance we won't know what happens if you can't find the book?”
Sniffs and cries begin to fill the small room, and multiple eyes start to become watery.
“My lovely little kids, hear me out,” you say calmly. “There's a lovely big sister at the library which I am very close with, and she helps me to find all sorts of books for you adorable kids. So will you give your trust to that lovely big sis?”
You're returned with hesitant nods.
“Why don't you all come with me and wash your faces and snot? We can't let your Mommies and Daddies see your sad faces right?” you say, coaxing them towards the hand washing basins.
When the bell rings, you bring the kids outside with refreshed but slightly swollen faces, releasing them towards their parents one by one. You give small smiles and nods as you watch them run towards their parents with open arms.
The playful chaos soon dies down and only one child remains. She tugs the fabric of your trousers with her small, delicate hand.
“Teacher, you promise you will find the book?” she looks at you with cute pouty eyes. “I promise I will wait patiently. Please tell big sister to find it…”
You crouch down and ruffle her hair.
“I promise.”
“Haein-ah, we're here!” A pair of voices shouts.
“You have a name that means brightness, Haein, so don't keep crying okay?” you say, rubbing her cheeks. “Now go to your parents.” You turn the little girl and nudge her towards the two waving figures.
“Sorry we're late, Teacher. Thanks for waiting!” They offer their thanks before turning to head off with their child. You turn around to face the internal mess of the classroom they made and sigh. Got to get it cleaned.
You wipe your hands on your trousers that's still sticky from glue and paint and breathe in the sudden quiet of the empty classroom.
It’s only been thirty seconds, but it already feels like breathing again. Once done, you're off to the same place.
The library.
The sky has already turned into a bruised purple of late evening. Many stores have shuttered, if not are cleaning up despite still thirty minutes away from closing — and as a part-time restaurant service staff in the past, you know how shitty it is to receive a customer five minutes before closing time. So dinner is a quick convenience-store kimbap and iced americano at the standing counter, because sitting down means you share a seat with noisy university students.
You're tired from the noise at work.
You want quiet.
And you want to see her.
The small supermarket near the subway station is still open. You duck inside on impulse and head straight for the drinks aisle. The chocolate milk is on the second shelf from the bottom — her favorite brand, the one with the little cartoon cow on the carton. You grab two bottles, cold enough that condensation immediately fogs your fingers, and pay without thinking too hard about why your heart is beating a little faster.
The walk to the library takes fifteen minutes. The streetlights are just flickering on, and the air has cooled enough that the back of your neck finally stops prickling from the day’s overwhelming hustling. When you reach the glass doors of the special-collections branch, the “OPEN” sign is still lit, but the place looks nearly deserted. Only a few reading lamps glow in the far corners.
You push the door open. The familiar welcoming hush greets you like an old friend, and the smell of yellowed and fresh books mixed wafts into your nose. And then you see her.
Gaeul is at the returns cart near the back, sliding books onto the reshelving trolley one by one. As usual, she’s dressed in a sleek black halter-neck dress with crisp white collar accents, the fabric hugging her frame just enough to look effortlessly sharp yet professional. Long, dark hair falls straight past her shoulders, framing a pair of thin, dark-rimmed glasses perched on her nose. The overall look is quietly commanding, elegant and composed, but under the warm light she looks softer than usual, almost tired. When she glances up and spots you her whole face changes.
“You’re late,” she says. It's small and surprised, but you sense that she's quietly pleased.
“Cleanup took longer than expected, and a few parents were late,” you answer just as quietly, walking toward her. “And, I had to make a detour.”
You hold up the small plastic bag. The chocolate milk bottles clink gently against each other.
Her eyes flick to the bag, then back to your face. Something softens around her mouth as she raises her fingers to gasp.
“Is that…?”
“Your favorite. Figured you might need it after a long shift.”
She sets the last book down carefully, like it matters, then steps closer. Her fingers brush yours when she takes the bag.
“Thank you,” she says, and it’s so sincere it almost aches. “You didn’t have to.”
“I wanted to.”
She chuckles and one out, twisting the cap before tipping the bottle into her mouth.
“Kyaaa~ It’s still cold!” she exclaims softly, delighted, then quickly covers her mouth like she surprised herself. She looks into the bag and gives you a pout of gratitude. “You even put some dry ice in to keep it cool…”
“Milk tastes the best when it's cold,” you smile. “And why are you drinking it like you're drinking soju…”
“Because chocolate milk to me is like soju!” she giggles softly. “Oh! Give me a while, I have some things to pass to you as well.”
Gaeul turns and pushes the book cart off, leaving you in the comfortable silence. You walk towards the returns counter and set your tote bag down, the one that's heavy with 43 different storybooks. You’re a Diamond ranked borrower of the library by now, courtesy of the chaotic bundle of happiness at the kindergarten you work at.
You slot the first book in.
ding
You slot the second, third and fourth.
ding
ding
ding
“How long is this gonna take…” you grumble to yourself. This time, you try your luck, grabbing two books at once, pushing them through the slot.
ding ding
A success. Two consecutive alarms of success. Your heart overflows with greed now. You grab three books.
ding ding ding
You smile inwardly and contemplate testing the limits of the book sensor within, but you stop yourself. No need to make Gaeul’s job behind the scenes harder. Stacks of three will suffice. Not to mention, this only works because you're returning storybooks — they're thin, unlike those 500 over pages novels and biographies, or even books like “How To Find Silence Within Chaos For Dummies”, which you remember borrowing because of you know, your job.
ding ding ding
ding ding ding
…
ding ding ding
And you're down to the last book. It irks you slightly because it’s not a set of three, but you only have yourself to blame since you didn't calculate how to split the book tossing beforehand.
“Did they like the one with singing vegetables?” Gaeul emerges from the side, setting a basket down beside you.
“They demanded an encore performance of the carrot solo. Three times,” you laugh under your breath. “If not for lunchtime, I would have been singing it for the rest of the day.”
“I figured. I knew it would resonate well with the kids.”
She pushes the basket on the counter and slides it over to you, taking out the books one by one. “I picked some more recommendations for your children. Here look, this one is about a tiger who refuses to grow up. Then there’s this one, which is about a very hungry caterpillar.”
You watch her hands for a moment longer than you should, looking at how deft yet calm she is moving — no rush, no noise.
She notices.
“Rough day?” she asks softly.
“Every day is a rough day,” you exhale, shoulders dropping. “But they’re good kids. Just… loud.”
She nods with understanding, not pity.
“I get it. I spend all day asking people to be quiet. Most of them don’t like it.”
She slides another small stack of new books across the counter, all already reserved for you. On top is a picture book about a quiet fox who learns to listen.
Inside the cover, in her neat handwriting:
“For the loud days. This one’s about finding peace in small sounds. — Gaeul”
You trace the note with your thumb.
“You didn’t have to do this every time.”
“I wanted to.” She shrugs softly, almost shy. “You’re the only patron who ever says thank you like you mean it.”
You meet her eyes, and they look dark, steady, and a little tired around the edges. “Thank you,” you say, and you really do mean it.
Gaeul leaves to finish closing duties and you linger a few minutes longer, pretending to browse the new arrivals shelf.
The library empties slowly — last students packing up laptops, an elderly man returning a stack of poetry.
Gaeul moves through the space like she belongs to it: soft footsteps, gentle nudges to lower voices, a quiet “Shhh” that somehow feels kind instead of stern.
You watch her shush a group of college kids laughing too loudly near the study tables. One of them rolls his eyes and mutters something under his breath.
Gaeul doesn’t react and just gives a small, polite smile and walks away. But you see the tiny tightening at the corner of her mouth.
When the last patron leaves, she locks the front door and flips the sign to “Closed.”
The room falls into true silence.
She turns to you.
“You’re still here.”
“Got lost in the shelves. Sorry.” You rub the back of your neck and lie.
“Don’t be.” She walks over, stopping a few steps away. “Coffee tomorrow? My shift ends at seven.”
You blink.
She smiles softly.
“I’ll bring the coffee then. I brew coffee at the kindergarten sometimes. You mind?”
“Yeah,” she says. “I’d like that.”
You feel something loosen in your chest. “Tomorrow then. Seven o’clock. I’ll be at the benches in the park waiting for you.”
“Okay!” Gaeul smiles.
“Oh by the way, I have a request. My children are requesting for the sequel to one of the books “The Giant's Demise”. Can you help me look for it? They were crying today, after hearing the story end on a cliffhanger where the Giant was wounded after it lost an epic battle with the Demon King.”
“Sure, I’ll look for it in the database.”
“If it's too much of a problem, don't worry too much about it,” you say sheepishly. “I don't want to trouble you too much.”
“Hey, no worries! We usually do inter-library transfers. If it's in our database, requesting for a transfer is child’s play~”
“Okay, thank you then.”
You leave the library with the new books in your bag and her note still open on top.
Outside, the city is loud, filled with the honking of cars, conversations of people, and the buzzing of nightlife. It's nothing like the serenity of the library, but you walk home carrying the memory of her quiet voice, her careful hands, and the way she looked at you like she understood exactly how tired silence can feel when you have to fight for it.
The next day you bring her coffee.
She smiles when she arrives and sees it.
And just like that, quietly, without fanfare, you start meeting her after shifts.
First for coffee.
Then for walks.
You don’t call it dating.
Not yet at least.
***
Weekend mornings are the only times the city feels almost gentle. Perhaps it's just because you have no work.
The streets are half-asleep with the hum of delivery scooters, early joggers chatting as they run by, and the chirping of the birds. It's not entirely silent silent, but it's the kind of silence that you appreciate.
You left your apartment earlier than usual, tote bag slung over your shoulder. In it is a list of 28 names scribbled on a folded piece of paper amongst other essentials like your water bottle, a mini umbrella and countless more tote bags — every shop is charging for plastic bags now and you have to play your part in impeding global warming.
You're organising a “thank-you” craft event for your children’s parents, and flowers seem to be the right choice. Each child gets a small postcard where they can draw pictures and write wobbly “I love you messages” along with a small flower that you’ll purchase for them.
Well it isn't the first time you're organising such an activity, but it sure is the first time you're buying flowers in a long time, and you're nervous for all the wrong reasons. The last time you bought flowers was a year ago during the yearly grave cleaning for your great grandparents that have passed on, and it wasn't a pleasant experience at all. You remember that you had to travel two whole hours to town where the only available florist was at, and because it was the only available florist within a radius of 10 km, everyone — and you mean everyone — flocked there. And since it’s a designated public holiday devoted to grave cleaning, the florist was flooded with people.
At least the local mayor recognised this issue and invested some resources to push for the establishment of multiple florist shops scattered across the city. And you're glad it worked.
The flower shop is already open. It's a fifteen minute walk away from your apartment and it's been there for half a year. Although, it's your first time entering Petal & Page as you’re not attached, and buying flowers serves no purpose.
As you approach the flower shop, a small wooden sign swings gently above the door, adorning the shop's tranquilic name in a fancy cursive italicised font. Through the glass from the outside, you see movement inside — someone arranging buckets of fresh stems.
You push the door open and a soft bell chimes.
The scent hits you immediately. A complex aroma of a multitude of floral scents, but distinct in their own way. Clean but earthy, sweet and calming, sharp yet soothing. Complex yet enticing. The shop is quieter than you expected; no music, no chatter, just the faint rustle of leaves and the snip of shears.
And then you see her. It's her.
Gaeul is behind the counter, apron tied around her waist, sleeves rolled up, hair running down like a smooth river. She’s trimming the ends of a bundle of white tulips, and she looks like she always does, focused and gentle. When the bell chimes she glances up and freezes.
Her face lights up — small, surprised, then quietly delighted.
“You,” she says softly, setting the shears down.
“Me,” you reply, suddenly feeling a little awkward with the empty tote bag dangling from your shoulder. “I… didn’t know this was your shop. Otherwise I would have bought you some chocolate milk.”
She smiles and tidies up the counter. “It is. During the weekends I run it myself. On weekdays, I have part-timers who keep it alive while I’m at the library. This is my breathing room.”
You give a small nod of affirmation, soaking in the information like it’s some sacred knowledge.
“So, what are you here for today? I don't suppose it's books? Speaking of books, I'm sorry I couldn't find the sequel in the library’s database.”
“Hey! I thought I'd already messaged you telling you that it’s fine? Stop feeling bad…” you look at her, giving a small disapproving frown. “I’ll just continue searching at the local bookstores! It won't hurt to purchase a book to support the author if I find it.”
“I’ll keep a lookout for it as well,” Gaeul offers.
“Let me know if you find it. Anyway, I’m here for flowers,” you say, retrieving the folded paper from your tote bag. You unfold the paper and show Gaeul the list. “I need twenty-eight flowers. One for each kid. Something bright for tomorrow’s craft session.”
Her eyes soften.
“Twenty-eight,” she repeats. “You really do know every one of them, don’t you?”
“I try.”
She steps out from behind the counter, wiping her hands on her apron.
“Come here. Let’s pick them together.”
You follow her to the buckets of fresh blooms. She moves with quiet confidence, touching petals, tilting stems toward the light, considering each one.
“Tell me about them,” she says. “One by one. I’ll match the flower to the child.”
“Uh… I don't think that I can remember each and every child.”
She looks at you and just smiles. “Tell me about… Haein,” she says, peering at the first name of the list in your hands.
You hesitate for a bit, but your mouth starts moving. “Haein… She's the one who always asks for extra storytime. She’s shy, but bright when she feels safe.”
Gaeul nods, and gives a short ponder. “Something soft… maybe pale pink?”
She reaches out and selects a single pale-pink peony. “Gentle, but full of quiet light. Perfect. Next.”
“Next is Minjun. He's loud and always running about, but cries if someone gets hurt.”
“Minju sounds like he needs something bold… Sunflowers?” She picks a bright yellow sunflower, one that's small enough for small hands. “Big energy, big heart. He’ll love it.”
You go through the list, one flower per child.
A white daisy for the girl who shares her snacks without being asked.
A lavender stem for the boy who hugs everyone goodbye.
A tiny red carnation for the quiet observer in the corner.
A sprig of baby’s breath for the one who collects tiny things.
With each description Gaeul listens, like really listens, she's nodding, smiling softly, sometimes blushing when you describe a child’s sweetness or mischief with obvious affection.
When you finish the twenty-eighth, describing the girl who always says “Teacher, you’re the best”, Gaeul’s cheeks are faintly pink. She picks up an orange Marigold and passes it to you.
“You really see them,” she says quietly. “Not just as a class. As… little people. That’s rare.”
You shrug in response, but you're suddenly shy. You look back at Gaeul and stutter, “They’re good kids. They deserve to feel seen.”
She looks at your embarrassment for a long moment before chuckling, “You’re good with them. It’s… charming.”
The word lands softly and you feel heat rise in your own face. The air in the shop gets a few degrees warmer. She looks down quickly — cheeks now matching the peony pink of the flowers — and busies herself with the brown paper.
“B-brown paper will do right?” she asks, looking down and taking a stack of brown paper, tying each flower with a thin ribbon. She sticks a small card right below the knot and passes the first flower to you.
“Here, you can label which flower is for whom,” she says, handing you a black Sharpie marker.
You take it from her, fingers brushing her soft hands lightly, and you swear you see her smile as she looks down. Your heart skips a beat.
You begin to pen down names one by one — Haein, Minjun, Wonhae and more — focusing on writing the nicest and neatest words to the best of your ability, but your eyes always drift to her hands. They're deft and calm like how she arranges the books in the library, quick and accurate, but there's no hint of rush or urgency.
The crinkle of brown paper and the soft rustle of ribbon fill the quiet space, sounds that feel almost intimate in their gentleness.
Then the bell chimes, breaking the silence like glass.
The door swings open with an urgent force and a woman in a hurry storms in, phone in one hand, designer bag in the other.
You already know she's trouble.
“How much for these roses?” she demands, pointing at a pre-wrapped bunch.
Gaeul glances up.
“Twenty-eight thousand won, ma’am,” she says politely.
The woman scoffs loudly.
“That’s ridiculous. They’re half-dead anyway. Give me a discount or I walk.”
Gaeul doesn’t flinch.
“I’m sorry, but that’s the price. Furthermore, they were freshly cut an hour ago.”
The woman raises her voice.
“You're losing a precious customer.”
Gaeul’s jaw tightens.
“I’m sorry, but the price is fixed.”
“Do you know who I am? I’m a regular at the department store florist. They give me 30% off. You should be grateful I’m even here.”
“Then why are you here at my shop?” she asks quietly. “I don’t offer 30% discounts. And I’m not desperate for sales.”
The woman glares at Gaeul, trying to find a comeback, but she doesn't manage to think of a plausible argument.
“Fine. But this is highway robbery.” The woman slams her card down, teeth grinding in arrogance and shamelessness.
She pays and snatches the bouquet, storming out with deliberate dissatisfaction. The bell chimes angrily behind her.
Silence returns, but it's heavier now.
Gaeul exhales slowly, hands working on your flowers once again.
“Does that happen a lot?” you stay quiet for a moment before asking softly.
She finishes tying the last ribbon. Her hands are steady, but you see the small tremor. “More than I’d like,” she admits. “I try to keep things calm. Beautiful. But some people… they see quiet as weakness. Or control. Or something to push against.”
You nod.
“We appreciate silence, but when we don't argue or fight back, people see it as a chance to step all over us.”
“I hate it when this happens,” she mumbles, taking the flower with the last name written from you, before adding it to the collated bunch of 27 flowers.
“I get that,” you say. “I spend all day keeping twenty-eight kids calm. Some days it feels like herding cats. But I do it because they need it. Even when they fight me.”
She looks at you.
“You never fight back, do you?”
You shrug.
“Wouldn’t help. They’re just… being kids.”
She smiles at you tiredly.
“You’re patient. More than most.”
She finishes wrapping your bouquet — 28 individual stems tied together with care — and hands it to you.
“For your kids,” she says. “Tell them the flower lady hopes they have a bright Monday.”
“Thank you,” you say, taking it from her.
She holds your gaze, as if thinking about something. Then her lips part. “I do workshops every Saturday,” she says quietly. “Bouquets, wreaths, little arrangements. It's mostly for women, but… it’s quiet. Calm. No chaos. I think… you’d appreciate it.”
You feel something loosen in your chest.
“I’d like that,” you say.
She smiles. “Then, next Saturday? Ten o’clock. I’ll save you a seat.”
“I’ll be there.”
“Hey, before you leave, you know…”
“Yeah?”
“I do like many other things other than chocolate milk.”
You stand there for a few moments, 28 flowers in your arms, letting the words sink in, until you finally speak.
“G-Gaeul.” You say, turning to face her completely. “Will you let me enter your life?”
Her eyes light up at your words, and she gives you a bright smile, the brightest you’ve ever seen from her.
“Maybe~” she says, smile bright and teasing. “I’ll see you at the library tomorrow.”
You leave with 28 flowers in your arms and a new memory of her.
***
“Gaeul?”
You push open the door to Petal & Page and the bell softly chimes.
“I bought you some breakfast~” you say, walking in. You left your apartment earlier than usual despite the workshop being at 10 a.m.
“You're early,” Gaeul says, voice soft and surprised.
“I bought some grapes and coffee,” you say, putting the plastic bag of fruits and two canned lattes onto the counter.
“Shine muscat?!” she whispers in excitement.
“Yeap, couldn't pass up on the chance to buy them for you. Didn't you say you love their honeyed sweetness and plump juiciness?”
“Are you flirting with me?” she says, already plucking one out from the bunch, popping into her mouth.
“No. I’m chasing you,” you declare, before pulling out another punnet from your tote bag. “I bought two, by the way. Couldn't pass up on the sale. Keep it for your snack in the afternoon.”
Gaeul’s eyes light up even more, brighter than you when you thought it couldn't anymore.
“I love it when you remember,” she looks at you, cheeks faintly pink.
You shrug, suddenly shy.
“Hard not to.”
You take the latte and pop the can open, sliding one to her.
“Sit,” she says, nodding to the stool beside hers. “We have thirty minutes before the others arrive.”
You slide in beside her and for the next half-hour it’s just the two of you, eating in your favourite comfortable silence. You share the grapes, popping them one by one, juice bursting cold and sweet. She licks a drop from her thumb casually, but she's unaware of how your pulse jumps.
You talk quietly about the kids’ latest antics, about a rude patron she dealt with yesterday, about nothing and everything.
The silence between sentences isn’t empty. It’s comfortable. Warm.
When the first participant knocks at 9:55, Gaeul sighs reluctantly. “Time to work,” she says. She stands and straightens her apron, heading over to open the door.
Five women file in over the next few minutes, regulars, mostly in their thirties and forties, carrying their own tote bags and reusable cups. They greet Gaeul warmly, then notice you.
One of them — a woman with short hair and bright red glasses — grins.
“New face! And a handsome one.”
Another laughs softly.
“Gaeul, you didn’t tell us you were bringing a model today.”
Gaeul’s cheeks flush with a faint peony pink, but she doesn’t deny it.
She just glances at you softly and says, “He’s here to learn. Be nice.”
They all laugh teasingly and take their seats around the long worktable.
You slide in beside her automatically, the spot she saved just for you, and she begins.
“Today we’re doing simple posies and basic bouquet tying,” she says calmly. “Three focal flowers, some greenery, a filler or two. Remember, we have to tie gently, because flowers need room to breathe.”
She demonstrates while speaking, hands moving slowly and patiently, selecting stems, trimming ends, arranging, wrapping with ribbon.
The women follow easily with their practiced hands and quiet chatter.
You… do not.
Your stems are crooked, your ribbon is lopsided and your arrangement looks like a small explosion.
Gaeul notices and giggles.
She leans over — close enough that her shoulder brushes yours, her soft lavender scent wrapping around you.
“Here,” she murmurs, instructions and guidance only for you. “Hold the rose like this… trim the thorn here… now slide the baby’s breath in at an angle.”
Her fingers cover yours, guiding you steadily.
Your heart thumps loudly in your ears.
The other women notice your flushing earlobes.
One whispers loudly enough for everyone to hear:
“Look at them. So cute.”
Another giggles.
“Gaeul, you’re blushing.”
Gaeul’s cheeks deepen into a solid pink, but she doesn’t pull away. Instead she leans closer, resting her elbow lightly against your arm, her hand staying on yours a second longer than necessary while she adjusts the ribbon.
“Like this,” she says softly. “Perfect.”
“Thank you,” you swallow, throat dry from nervousness.
She smiles.
“Anytime.”
The teasing continues — light, affectionate.
“You two should just kiss already,” one says.
“I’m gonna snatch him up if you don't want him, Gaeul,” another married lady teases.
Gaeul doesn’t reply, but her fingers brush your wrist under the table when she passes you more ribbon.
The workshop ends at noon.
The women leave one by one, hugging Gaeul, complimenting the flowers, winking at you. When the last one is gone, the shop falls quiet again.
You stay to help clean, sweeping petals and wiping the table.
Gaeul doesn’t ask you to.
You just do.
When you’re done she turns to you.
“You did well today,” she says quietly. “Even if the ribbon fought back.”
You laugh under your breath.
“I had a good teacher.”
She smiles, then hesitates.
“Thursday,” she says. “After my library shift. Come here. I’ll help you with those flower bracelets for the kids’ event you told me earlier.”
You nod and your heart is doing that strange flutter again.
“I’d like that.”
***
“I found it,” she says, sliding a slim hardcover across the counter on Wednesday evening at the library while you are returning the books you've borrowed in stacks of three (four didn't work, you’ve tested it yesterday).
You stare at the book. The Giant’s Demise: Volume 2.
“You… bought it?”
“Inter-library loan was too slow,” she says simply. “The kids are waiting.”
You reach for your wallet.
“Let me pay you—”
She crosses her arms and huffs.
“If you’re not going to take it as a gift, I’m not teaching you tomorrow.”
You freeze.
She raises an eyebrow playfully, smirking at you, awaiting your submission.
You sigh and smile.
“Fine. Thank you.”
She pumps her fist in victory.
“I’ll see you there tomorrow then, don’t be late.”
***
“And then, as the light shone down onto the dead Giant, his heart began to beat again. Blood started to flow through his veins again.”
“WAAAAAAA!”
“THE GIANT IS ALIVE!”
“KILL HIM! KILL THE BAD MAN!”
Shhhhhh
You raise your finger and hush the kids.
“Remember what I said about silence?”
“But we wanna know what happens next!”
“Yea! Hurry Teacher!”
“KILL THE DEMON KING! RAAAAAAAR! GOGOGO!”
You sigh and shake your head in defeat, smiling at their excitement. You flip to the next page and continue reading.
“The Giant opened his eyes as the Demon King walked away, thinking that victory was in his hands.”
The children listens earnestly.
“Then the ground trembled. The Giant’s fingers moved. The air shook as the Giant took its first breath.”
A boy clenches his fist in anticipation.
“The Demon King felt the movements and turned in disbelief, but the next thing he knew, the world around him flipped.”
The children hold their breath in silence.
“Just like that, the Demon King was beheaded.”
“YYYAAAAAAAYYY!”
“THE GIANT WON!”
“THE GIANT IS ALIVE!”
Cheers erupt and the boys jump at the mention of the giant’s victory. Haein sobs in happiness, wiping her tears off her eyes.
“And just like that, the Demon King was eradicated and the world was saved.”
“Thank you for the story, Teacher!”
“Yeah! I love it when Teacher always reads us stories.”
“You smile and close the book, setting it aside.
“You have to thank the lovely big sister who works at the library. She was the one who helped Teacher find the book,” you say.
“Is big sister pretty? She's always helping Teacher so much.”
“Yeah! I think she likes you, Teacher.”
“Did you kiss big sister yet?”
The children blast you with questions, which you just smile silently.
Haein stands up and walks forward, standing beside you as she faces the class.
“Don't bully Teacher!” she yelps, spreading her arms outward.
The classroom quietens down into giggles and teasing mumbles.
You reach forward and ruffle Haein’s hair.
“Teacher likes big sister, so stop teasing me already,” you confess. “Anyway, time is almost up. Time to pack up and go home.”
The children all whine in dejection as you nudge them to pack their bags. Within an hour, your sweet children are all within the arms of their parents and you’re soon switching off the lights and locking the kindergarten’s gates.
It's time for your “date”.
The shop is dark except for the pendant lights over the worktable. Flowers are already laid out: small roses, daisies, baby’s breath, eucalyptus, thin wire, silk cord, beads.
Gaeul is waiting with her apron on, sleeves rolled, hair loose tonight. She smiles when she sees you.
“You’re here.”
“Couldn’t stay away.”
She laughs warmly.
“Come here.”
You sit beside her, knees touching under the table.
“The kids wanted me to thank you for the book. They really liked the way the story ended.”
“That's good. It means the kids are happy. That’s all that matters,” she says. “Let's start~”
She begins.
“Flower bracelets are simple,” she says. “We’ll use wire for structure, silk cord for wrapping, small blooms for decoration. The kids can thread beads or tiny flowers themselves.”
She demonstrates — threading wire, attaching a daisy, wrapping with cord. You copy, or try to, but your fingers are clumsy at first. She leans in close, her shoulder brushing against yours.
“Here,” she murmurs. “Hold the wire like this… slide the flower on… now wrap the cord — not too tight.”
Her fingers cover yours, guiding.
The air thickens, and the unspoken tension is unbelievably tight. You both feel it — the heat of her arm against yours, the soft brush of her hair on your shoulder, the way her breathing seems to match yours.
Neither of you speaks for a long time. She just keeps guiding you patiently and steadily. And you? You keep working carefully, wholly focused on not trying to mess up and embarrass yourself.
The bracelets slowly take shape.
When you finish the first one, showing her the small and delicate loop that's perfect for tiny wrists, and she smiles.
“They’ll love these.”
“Thank you,” you say, looking at her with a soft expression.
She holds your gaze, breathing gently. You lean forward, inching closer to her face, breath hovering right above her lips. She just stays there, chin tilting forward slightly, inviting you in to taste her.
The silence cheers you on.
But your hands accidentally hits a pair of scissors during the advance, sliding to the floor with a loud clank.
The silence is broken.
“I-It’s getting late,” you stutter, stepping back quickly, ears burning. “I… I should go. Thank you — really.”Gaeul looks at you shyly and smiles.
“I’m happy to help.”
***
You stare at the words on the screen of your mobile phone as you head to work.
<Silence Enforcer🌷, 22:38> I'll come tomorrow
<You, 22:38> Please don’t come tomorrow
<You, 22:38> It’s going to be loud, chaotic and messy
<You, 22:39> The kids will climb all over everything and scream the whole time.
<You, 22:39> You’ll hate it. Really.
No reply at all since last night. She just left you on read. You sigh and set the phone down before pressing on the ‘Alight’ button of the bus.
It's time for your daily war.
The kindergarten is already humming with energy when you arrive at 7:30. You haul in the boxes of crayons, color pencils, stickers, glue sticks, blank postcards, and the 28 flower bracelets from last night. You set up the low tables — one for drawing, one for gluing flowers, one for threading beads if any child wants to customize further. The room smells like fresh paper and the faint lavender from the bracelets.
At 8:15 you hear the gate creak.
You look up and freeze, facepalming yourself internally.
Gaeul is standing in the doorway, holding two large canvas totes. She’s dressed simply in a soft white blouse tucked into high-waisted skirt. Her hair is loose with no makeup on except a touch of lip balm, but she still looks effortlessly gorgeous. And honestly, you love this look of hers more.
Her tote bags are overflowing with extra flowers: pale pink peonies, bright sunflowers, white daisies, sprigs of baby’s breath — all wrapped individually in brown paper, each tied with a thin ribbon.
She smiles at you sheepishly.
You walk over quickly, offering to take the bags from her.
“I warned you…”
“I know,” she says softly. “I read the text. Three times.”
“Then why—”
She shrugs.
“I took the day off from the library. I wanted to see you when you work.”
Your heart does that strange flutter again.
She steps inside without waiting for permission, pulling you along. Once you're near the tables, she grabs the totes from you and starts taking out the flowers. She’s intruding on your territory as if she's been working here for years.
Not that you’d mind.
“Come on,” she says. “Help me set up.”
Together you arrange the flowers on the craft table, one per child, just like you picked last weekend.
She remembers every name.
“Haein gets the peony,” she murmurs, placing the pale pink bloom carefully. “Quiet light.”
“Minjun gets the sunflower,” you add, matching her rhythm.
She nods, smiling to herself.
You work in comfortable silence, shoulders brushing occasionally, hands passing supplies, the early morning light slanting through the windows and catching in her hair.
When the first children arrive at 8:45 and they see the flowers and her, chaos erupts.
“BIG SISTER!”
“TEACHER’S GIRLFRIEND IS HERE!”
“YOU CAME!”
Haein is the first to run up with her arms wide, hugging Gaeul’s legs with an unmistakable passion despite just meeting her for the first time.
“You brought flowers!”
Gaeul kneels immediately, eye level with the kids crowding around her.
“I did,” she says softly. “One for each of you. Teacher told me all your favorite colors and personalities.”
The teasing starts instantly.
“Teacher likes big sister!”
“Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”
You raise your finger, shaking your head in an embarrassed defeat.
“Fingers on lips, remember?”
They giggle and cover their mouths, but the whispers continue. You shush them gently, cheeks warm, and start the morning circle. Gaeul sits at the back, cross-legged on the floor, watching quietly.
Storytime begins.
You chose The Invisible Boy by Trudy Ludwig — a gentle book about a quiet child who feels unseen until someone finally notices him.
You read slowly, voices soft, letting the words settle.
The room quiets.
Halfway through, a little girl in the front starts to sniffle. Her eyes are glassy.
You pause and stand up, kneeling beside her.
“What’s wrong, sweetheart?”
“He’s sad and alone… like when no one picks me to play.”
You nod and hug her.
“I know. It hurts, doesn’t it? But watch what happens next.”
You carry her and bring her to the front again, keeping her on your lap as you keep reading with a soft yet firm voice.
You continue the story.
When the boy is finally seen and included, several children wipe their eyes.
You close the book gently.
“See? Sometimes people just need someone to notice them. And when they do… everything changes.”
You look up and your eyes flick to Gaeul. She’s watching you with soft eyes, as if something's shifting behind them that you can't quite make out.
You spend the rest of the day playing with the kids. When it's lunch time, you and Gaeul bring the kids to the wash basin, reminding them to wash their hands with soap before a meal, otherwise they'll get a tummy ache. Right after lunch, you follow up with another story telling session, and this time, it is about a Princess who lost her glass shoe.
Craft time follows.
You hand out the bracelets and postcards.
“This is something big sister taught Teacher how to make,” you say. “So when you write your messages for Mommy and Daddy, remember to thank her too.”
The girls giggle immediately.
“Big sister! Big sister!”
“Teacher loves big sister!”
“Marry her already!”
You shush them again, ears burning, but you’re smiling. Gaeul helps quietly, kneeling beside the shy and quiet ones, guiding small fingers to thread beads, helping them spell difficult words (“appreciate” is a tough one), wiping glue off tiny hands.
You catch her eye across the room.
She smiles warmly at you again, like she’s letting you see something she usually keeps hidden.
Your chest tightens.
Pickup time arrives.
The children run to parents waving bracelets, showing postcards, proudly holding flowers.
“Mommy! Teacher’s girlfriend helped today!”
“She made the bracelets!”
You stand at the gate waving and nodding, smiling awkwardly as parents glance between you and Gaeul with knowing smiles. When the last child leaves, the classroom falls quiet. You and Gaeul clean up together, sweeping petals, stacking chairs, wiping tables.
She doesn’t speak much.
Neither do you.
When everything is tidy she turns to you.
“Come back to the shop?” she asks softly. “I… have something for you.”
You nod.
The walk to Petal & Page is quiet. Your shoulders constantly brush against each other, fingers almost touching. Inside, the shop is dark except for the same pendant lights when she taught you last night.
She locks the door behind you.
Then she turns, and steps close, looking up at you. “You give so much,” she whispers. “All day. Every day. To them. To everyone.”
You swallow.
“Someone has to.”
She shakes her head slowly.
“Not alone.”
She reaches up and cups your face gently.
You lean down.
She meets you halfway.
The kiss is soft and tentative at first, tasting like coffee and grapes and everything you’ve both been too shy to admit until now. Then she kisses you deeper, her fingers sliding into your hair, pulling you into her, your arms wrapping around her waist automatically.
When you pull back, your foreheads are touching and she breathes, “I’ve wanted to do that since the first time you brought me chocolate milk.”
You smile.
“Me too.”
She kisses you again, before whispering:
“Stay a little longer?”
You nod.
She leads you to the couch in the back room.
You’re both settled on the couch in the back room with her head resting on your shoulder and your arm wrapped around her waist. You breathe in the faint scent of roses and lavender from the shop that's still clinging to her hair.
You both just sit there for a long moment, eyes closed, clung around each other, appreciating the soft silence. Her breathing is slow and even, matching yours without trying. Then she lifts her head and looks at you like she’s seeing something new.
“You love silence so much,” she murmurs. “You said it once… ‘silence is sacred.’” She traces a finger along your jaw. “I love that line,” she says. “People never appreciate the silence I try to give them. They push against it. Resent it. But you…”
She pauses, thumb brushing your lower lip. “You crave it. You seek it out. You come here for it.”
Your throat tightens.
She leans in and kisses you again.
“Stand up,” she says softly.
She circles you after you stand, eyes raking over you like she’s inspecting something precious.
Then she starts undressing you.
Fingers at your collar, unbuttoning your shirt one by one, slowly, reverently. She slides your shirt off your shoulders and lets it fall to the floor with a soft rustle, letting your skin prickle in the cool air. Your mouth is dripping with anticipation.
Gaeul kneels and undoes your belt, buckle clinking quietly against her small deft hands. Zipper dragged down tooth by tooth, it's agonisingly loud in the silence. Once done, your pants and boxers are pulled down altogether. You step out of the bunched fabric and they're swept aside.
You’re already hard — tip swollen, cock throbbing, nectar leaking steadily from your slit.
“What a pretty little flower~” she says, staying on her knees for a moment, appreciating your erection. “So hard already,” she murmurs. “Leaking for me before I’ve even touched you properly. Look at that… pre-cum smeared all over your thigh.”
You shiver involuntarily, hips twitching forward as she traces her fingers across your inner thighs. She stands and leaves your naked body neglected for a short moment, but she's soon back from retrieving the pale-green silk ribbon from the worktable (the same one used for the bracelets last night).
“Hands in front,” Gaeul commands softly.
You unconsciously obey and stick your two wrists together in the front, presenting it to her. Smiling at your presented limbs, she wraps the ribbon around your wrists slowly, looping deliberately around one time, two times, then three times. The ends of the silk are crossed over each other and your wrists are now tied in a knot.
“There we go, all tied up for me,” she whispers. “My pretty flower boy.”
The silk is cool at first, then warms from your skin. “Sit,” she whispers. She pulls your bound hands forward and rests them in your lap while you sit back on the couch.
She kneels between your legs and slides her palms up your thighs, crossing over the skin on your outer thighs before invading inwards to graze your groin.
You hiss from the sensation.
She reaches up and presses a finger to your lips immediately.
“Shhh,” she soothes. “Only breathing. Nothing else. I want to hear how you sound when you’re desperate… not when you’re trying to speak.”
You nod, trembling, trying to control yourself.
Her fingers trail down your chest slowly, scraping over your nipples until they harden into tight peaks.
You suck in a breath, chest rising fast, holding there in anticipation.
She smiles tenderly at your reaction.
“You know, silence is a virtue,” she says, walking her index and middle finger from one nipple to the other. “And right now, this virtue is mine. So do your best to keep it that way, okay?”
You open your mouth to grunt a response, but clamp it back close to keep silent.
“Good… My virtuous flower~” she sighs.
“So sensitive, so delicate, so kind,” she murmurs. “Look at you… shivering already. So pretty like this.” She wraps her hand around your cock, gripping you firmly. Her hands are so soft, so warm. She leans in, breathing hot against your neck and stroke.
The first stroke is slow… torturously slow. Your hips jerk forward involuntarily as she slides her hand from base to head. She pushes you back with her free hand on your hip.
“Stay,” she orders softly. “Let me feel you.”
She strokes again, even slower this time, twisting gently at the head when she crosses the head. The wet sound of her palm gliding over pre-cum is loud in the quiet room.
“You’re dripping so much,” she whispers. “Making such a mess all over my fingers… such a desperate little flower for me.”
“Your stem, it's so hard…” she keeps the pace slow and teasing. “Absolutely perfect for making pretty bouquets~” she giggles lightly, thumb circling the slit, spreading the pre-cum down the shaft. Your thighs shake, muscles jumping under her grip, desperate for more friction — but you can't say anything other than looking at her with your needy eyes.
Satisfied with your silent performance, Gaeul builds the pace. She’s setting a steady pace now, stroking you faster, making you slicker with your leaking mess, and wet squelches fill the air where your moans and grunts can't.
“That's it, let it build. Just relax and let everything go.” She continues pumping her fist on you, pausing every now and then to collect the streaming pre-cum off your slit and spreading it all over your tip. Her free hand juggle your balls tenderly while she pumps, adding the extra sensation that sets your mind on fire.
Dopamine surges out of your brain, hazing your mind as you feel the coil tightening, the heat pooling low. You let out a soft grunt right as you’re about to tip over, and she slows into feather-light touches.
You groan at the loss of sensation, head falling back. Your cock twitches from the dulling pleasure in her hands, as if trying to beg for release. But she stops completely. Her hand is wrapped around you, still and unmoving.
“Shhh,” she hushes. “You’re so close… but not yet. Keep quiet if you want to cum. Can you do that for me?”
You nod frantically, eyes pleading.
“Good boy,” she smiles, satisfied.
She starts slowly again, teasing the head, taking her time to play with you until you're once again trembling. Then she blows her breath on your cock, smirking up at you before pumping faster, building you right back up.
“You're doing so well, flower~” her hands blur on your cock, pumping you at an earnest pace. “Come on, so close. Three…”
“Two…”
“One…”
She stops again, hands frozen on your base, squeezing it gently.
You whimper with a small, choked sound.
She hushes it, thumb brushing your lip, letting you taste your arousal on your tongue.
“Almost… breathe through it. Remember, stay silent and I’ll let you cum.”
Edge two.
She starts out quick this time, pumping with a fast relentless pace right from the get go. The slick sounds produced from her stroking are obscenely wet, echoing through the room.
“Leak more for me… feel good for me.”
You’re trembling violently, thighs quaking, and your bound wrists are flexing uselessly in front of her. It's not that you can't untie and loosen from it, it's more so on what would you even do after that? Pin her down? Fuck into her hard?
That's not what you want. You don't know what you want. You just know you want her to take care of you. You want to receive from her.
You crave her.
Right when you're about to explode again, she slows torturously, dragging her fist from root to tip with a tight squeeze before letting you go.
“So close again,” she murmurs. “You’re throbbing so hard… leaking everywhere. Such a pretty mess for me.”
You stay quiet this time, hoping she will allow your release on this next cycle. Letting you calm down for ten seconds or so, she pumps hard and fast again, thumb pressing and rubbing ruthlessly against the slit.
It's crazy how fast your orgasm builds this time. Within a few measly seconds, your hips are straining and desperate again. Your mind screams for you to say something, anything, but you force your jaw shut.
“Shhh… one more,” she stops again, keeping her hand still, letting you throb in her grip. “Be good. Hold it.”
Your gasps are running into soundless pants now. Sweat beads out of every pore of your body, and your chest flushes into a pale red tinge. Gaeul looks up at you with sultry eyes, pumping you with a newfound speed. She doesn’t stop jerking, pumping you with slick, punishing strokes.
“Fuck—”
You let out an accidental moan, and she doesn't stop pumping. Her hands accelerate even more than what you thought was her fastest, and this time she’ll probably let you cum.
“Cum—” you choke out.
Right as the word leaves your lips she stops — hand frozen — squeezing the base hard enough to stall the orgasm.
You sob in desperation, tears pricking your eyes.
She leans up and cups your face, thumbs wiping the damp tracks.
“Not yet,” she whispers. “I want to taste how desperate you are.” She leans in and kisses you deeply, then sinks back down to her knees again between your spread thighs. Her long dark hair falls backward like a curtain.
The faint scent of roses and lavender from the shop still clings to her, mixing with the sharp, musky heat of your edged arousal and the salty tang of pre-cum already smeared across her fingers from earlier. She looks up at you with pupils blown wide, cheeks flushed from the effort and satisfaction of edging you, and smiles.
“Look at this pretty, desperate flower,” she murmurs, wrapping one hand around the base of your cock. “So swollen… so red… throbbing like a second heartbeat right against my palm. Leaking like you’ve been edged. Because you have.”
She drags her tongue flat along the underside from balls to tip, collecting every thick bead of pre-cum in one long, wet stripe. The taste hits her tongue and she hums softly, eyes fluttering closed for a second as if savoring wine. “Mmm,” she breathes against your skin, hot exhale ghosting over the slick head. “You taste so sweet… so salty… so needy. All this thick nectar just for me.”
She laps again, dragging her flat tongue over the head, flicking the underside rapidly with quick little kitten licks that make your thighs quake and your bound wrists strain forward uselessly.
You gasp sharply through your nose.
She presses both hands to your thighs, nails digging in to leave faint crescent marks on the skin, pinning you still. “Stay,” she orders softly. “No moving. No thrusting. I’ve already said. You take what I give you… and you stay quiet.”
She reaches under her dress and slips her soaked panties down her thighs. The black lace is already drenched, clinging to her fingers, heavy with her own arousal, the fabric warm and slick from her heat.
“Open,” she whispers.
Your mouth parts.
She stuffs the damp fabric into your mouth and the taste of her floods your tongue instantly. It's musky, sweet, tangy, overwhelming, and you're suck in the moist flavour instinctively like a parched man searching for water. Her scent fills your nose with every shallow breath you take through flared nostrils.
“Keep my taste on your tongue while I keep yours on mine,” she says. “No sounds. No moaning. Just breathe through your nose… and feel everything.”
She dives back down, taking the head into her mouth and sucks gently, tongue swirling in slow, lazy circles around the slit. The wet heat is unbearable. Her soft lips stretches around you, tongue pressing flat against the leaking slit, lapping up every fresh drop that wells up. She bobs shallowly at first, keeping her lips tight on you as her cheeks hollow, sucking the head like it’s the sweetest thing she’s ever tasted.
The wet slurping fills the room loudly every time she pulls back and dives down. Spit drips down her chin in slow, glistening trails, running over her neck, pooling on your balls, sliding down the inside of your thighs in sticky paths. She moans softly around you, the low vibration rippling through your cock like electricity.
You choke on a whimper that's muffled by the panties, body jerking up into her mouth.
She pulls off gasping, strings of spit hanging between her lips and your cock like glistening spiderwebs.
“So good,” she rasps. “So quiet for me… such an obedient flower.” She slaps your cock lightly against her cheek, the wet smack echoing in the quiet shop. “Look how big you are,” she whispers. “Covering my whole face… stretching my lips… perfect cock for me.”
She rubs the slick length over her cheek, across her nose, over her closed eyelids, painting her face with your pre-cum and her spit. The scent of you mixes with her lavender, heavy and intoxicating, filling your nose even through the gag.
She opens her mouth wide and takes you deep, throat fluttering around you. She gags as she takes you deeper, tears spilling down her cheeks in hot tracks, but she holds you there, throat working in rhythmic swallows. Your thighs quake, muscles jumping under her grip, sweat rolling down your chest in slow beads that drips onto your bound wrists.
She pulls off, gasping as her spit drips everywhere, chin glistening wetly. “Fuck, you taste so good,” she pants. “Throbbing on my tongue… leaking down my throat… such a desperate mess.”
“So big… completely… mine,” she slaps your cock against her tongue then rubs the length over her face again. She dives back and bobs hard and fast. The wet choking sounds are deafening — her gagging, your choked sobs through the panties, the slick squelch of spit and pre-cum.
Your vision blurs, tears streaming, body shaking so hard the couch creaks beneath you.
She pulls off, stroking hard with one hand while the other cups your balls, rolling them tenderly, tugging just enough to make your hips buck. “You’re so close,” she rasps. “Throbbing so hard…”
She guides your bound hands to her head, placing them on the back of her skull. “Pump me,” she gasps. “Fuck my mouth. Use me. Show me how desperate you are.”
You obey, tied hands pushing her head down, fucking her mouth in shallow thrusts. She moans loudly, throat constricting around you.
“Good boy,” she chokes out with your cock in her mouth. “Fuck my throat… give it to me…”
You pump harder, hips snapping, her nose buried again and again. She gags and spit drips everywhere, but she takes it, takes every thrust. Her hands grip your thighs, nails digging in, anchoring herself as you fuck her face.
The wet glucking sounds are disgustingly sexy as her spit runs down your balls and pools onto the couch in warm, sticky puddles.
She pulls off again, stroking hard.
“You’re so close,” she pants. “Throbbing so hard… leaking down my throat… cum for me. Cum all over my tongue. Let me taste every drop.”
She dives back, bobbing as fast as she can, tongue flicking the underside furiously. You break in a few seconds, hips bucking as you spill hot and thick across her tongue with a strangled, muffled cry through the panties. She keeps you on her lower lip, tongue flicking the underside, milking every last pulse.
When you’re finally spent she pulls off slowly and uses your still-hard cock to scoop the streaks on her lips, nose and cheeks back into her mouth.
She parts her mouth and shows you. Her tongue is coated with white. She twirls her tongue around, swirling once in display for you to see before swallowing with a soft, satisfied moan.
“Every drop,” she whispers. “All mine.”
She licks her lips clean, eyes never once leaving yours.
“Good boy,” she breathes. “You came so beautifully for me.”
She climbs back onto your lap, straddling you again, skirt riding up.
“Now,” she breathes against your lips, “let’s see how long you can last inside me… my good flower boy.”
Your wrists are still bound in front with pale-green silk ribbon, cock still hard and slick from her mouth, body trembling from the aftershocks of release and the endless prior denial. Although, the knot is now slightly loosened from the earlier straining.
She looks down at you, lips swollen and glistening, cheeks flushed, hair wild from your hands gripping her head earlier. Her breathing is still uneven, chest rising and falling visibly.
She reaches between your bodies, fingers brushing your length to collect the lingering wetness before guiding your tip to her entrance.
The first contact is electric. Her heat kisses your head and it's slick and swollen, parting slowly around you. She sinks down inch by torturous inch, walls fluttering, gripping, and welcoming. Every ridge drags against her inner walls and every pulse of your cock echoes inside her.
You can almost hear the wet slide inside of her — a slow, thick squelch — as she takes you fully, hips pressed flush against yours, clit pressed tight to your pelvis.
You both exhale at the same moment, foreheads touching. The stretch is exquisite for her, fullness pressing onto every sensitive spot, your heat radiating into her core.
For you, her velvet heat is squeezing every inch, walls rippling around you in tiny involuntary spasms, her arousal dripping down your balls in warm, slow trails.
She starts moving with slow rolls at first, hips circling, grinding her clit against you on every forward motion. The friction is immediate and delectable, the wet, slippery heat rubbing back and forth, building a low, pulsing ache in both of you. The couch creaks softly beneath the rhythm, its springs compressing, leather sticking slightly to your sweat-damp skin.
Her palms brace on your chest as her nails grazes lightly over your nipples with each roll, sending fresh sparks up your spine. Sweat beads along her hairline and one drop slides down her temple, tracing the curve of her cheek, falling onto your collarbone.
Another pearl gathers at the hollow of her throat, trembling and shaking slightly on the bone’s edge before rolling between her small breasts, disappearing into the neckline of the blouse. She leans forward, breasts brushing your chest through the thin fabric, hair hanging over your faces, trapping the shared heat and scent between you. Her breath ghosts over your muffled mouth, and it feels warm with the sweet salty traces of your cum from earlier that’s mingling with your own ragged exhales.
“You feel so good inside me… so deep… so warm…” she whispers.
No words said beyond this point.
She pulls down her top to expose her small perky breasts, and her nipples are already stiff and wanting. She lifts her hips slightly then drops with a slow, controlled descent, letting you feel every inch of her walls drag along you.
The wet sound grows louder from the slick suction of her pussy every time she rises and falls, refusing to let you go. She quickens her pace, hips snapping down, ass meeting your thighs with soft, rhythmic slaps that echo in the quiet room.
Sweat rolls freely now, hers dripping onto your stomach, yours pooling in the hollows of your collarbones, sliding down your sides in slow rivers. Her thighs tremble as she rides harder, chasing friction against her clit. The couch groans louder, springs protesting under the increasing intensity.
She leans back slightly, changing the angle, letting you hit deeper as you prod her front walls, making her flutter harder around you. A soft gasp escapes her and her lips part. She reaches down with raw need, fingers circling her clit in tight, quick motions, matching the rhythm of her hips.
She looks at you with her eyes glassy, finally breaking the silence. Her voice trembles with pleasure as she moans: “You’re so perfect… filling me so completely… just stay with me… feel how much I need you…”
She grinds down hard, clit pressed tight on you as her walls squeezes rhythmically around you. Sweat rains down from her chin, landing on your chest with warm little impacts.
Her fingers speed up on her clit, breaths turning to soft, needy pants. She whispers again, almost pleading, “Tell me how good it feels… tell me you need me…”
You nod, trying to say something, but your voice is muffled by the panties still in your mouth.
But that is enough.
She smiles at you soft and loving. “Not yet,” she breathes. “Wait for me… feel every inch… feel how tightly I’m holding you…”
She grinds down again deeply, letting you feel every flutter, every ripple. Her thighs start to shake harder and her breath hitches. She leans forward, pressing her forehead against yours, hair sticking to both your faces, breath hot and uneven.
“Cum with me,” she whispers. “Fill me… let go inside me… now.”
You break, hips bucking up, spilling deep inside her in thick, pulsing waves.
She clenches around you, milking every drop until she shatters. Her soft cry muffles against your shoulder as she bites on it, body shaking violently, walls rippling around you in long, rolling contractions.
She collapses forward, your chest pressed to hers, both of you panting and trembling.
Her heartbeat hammers against you, frantic, then slowing. After several long, shuddering breaths, she lifts her head and whispers, “I like you.”
You nod and reach up, bound hands clumsy but gentle, pulling the soaked panties from your mouth.
She watches with her eyes wide as you guide her to lie back on the couch. She lets you do so, exhaling softly as you push apart her legs, parting them slowly.
You slide down and settle between her thighs. Her dress is rucked up, pussy glistening with your combined release. It's swollen and flushed, still pulsing faintly.
The scent hits you first — musky, sweet, salty — your cum mixed with hers. The heady and intimate smell makes your mind foggy. You lean in, breathing hot against her core.
She shivers, fingers sliding into your hair as you dive forward. You lick slowly, pressing your tongue flat on her folds, tasting yourself inside her. It's warm and thick, mingling with her sweetness.
She gasps in pleasure, hips lifting slightly, eyelids fluttering, fingers tightening in your hair. You lap gently, cleaning her folds before focusing on her clit. You stay silent throughout, only producing sounds through the circling of your tongue on her wetness, tongue flicking lightly.
Her thighs tremble, muscles flexing under your palms. You slide two fingers inside, curling gently, stroking and rubbing against her walls while your tongue works her clit in slow, patient patterns.
She moans, body melting under you. Her breathing turns ragged, nipples hard and begging to be touched. Sweat beads along her inner thighs and mixes with the wetness between you.
Her fingers tighten in your hair, grounding herself as you keep going tenderly, paying attention to her every reaction as you taste every drop, worshipping her slowly.
Her clit swells under your tongue as she finally cums with a quiet shuddering soft cry of your name. Her thighs clamp around your head, body arching off the couch as she unloads wave after wave of fresh nectar.
You lick her through it slowly, soothing her waning orgasm until she’s boneless and trembling like a spent cloth. You reach forward and pull her up, kissing her deeply, feeding her with the taste of both of you on your tongue.
Then she wraps her arms around you and holds you close.
No words.
Just slow, synced breating.
Just quiet.
“Which side do you like more? Librarian or florist?”
You stay silent and smile at her.
***
Months later, the shop is quiet again.
But now the couch holds the shape of two bodies that have spent countless evenings curled together here. The environment is entirely different from that night — books stacked haphazardly on the low table, half-finished flower arrangements left from earlier, a single half-empty bottle of chocolate milk sweating on the coaster you always bring her.
Gaeul is nestled against your chest, legs draped over your lap, apron discarded somewhere on the floor.
She’s playing idly with the silk ribbon she used to tie your wrists that first time, now just a keepsake she keeps in her apron pocket that she uses to tie her hair whenever she tries to focus.
She twirls it between her fingers, then looks up at you.
“Which side of me do you like more?” she asks softly, the same question from months ago, but this time there’s no teasing edge, only gentle curiosity, like she’s asking something sacred.
“I still can’t decide,” you say. “I love both.”
“I don’t want to choose,” you say quietly. “I hope I get to experience both… with you… together. Every day.”
~24.6k words, syndicate boss's daughter Liz x vigilante reader, 'smut'
A/N: This is dedicated to my twin @kwilquib who loves Liz. Happy birthday! This is also my first x reader ... and first fic in second person ... so please be kind ...
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=====ENTRY #111131325233151811211251422323=====
Three bullets.
Bang. Pops the front right tire. Sends the Mercedes-Benz zigzagging down the street. Crashes into a fish stick stall.
Bang. Pops a dark red tunnel through the driver’s skull as he crawls out of the vehicle. His partner screams.
Bang. Now he doesn’t. Larynx blows into his esophagus. Only blood gets to spew out of his lips and all over his suit.
And you still have three-fourths of a round loaded into your Taurus TX22 pistol.
As the final passenger of the luxury car pushes out of their steaming ride, you shove your gun back into its holster. Instead, you unsheathe your hwando blade—the same blade your parents gifted you for your sixteenth birthday—and ready it at your side.
Your mark looks up at you through teary eyes. You don’t even register what they say.
Slick.
With one clean and deft motion, your mark’s eyes turn blood red in an instant. But no sign of remorse is etched on your face. Why? Did they show your family remorse when their Clan broke into your home? Did they show your parents remorse when they shook the living daylights out of them for their debt? Did they show you remorse when they murdered your parents right in front of you?
You still remember it. Every time you smell fresh blood in the air—you remember it.
The way your father begged and pleaded on his knees. He was never the type to bow down to anyone, but his forehead was right between their polished shoes. The sound of shattering dishes as your mother’s heart sank just as fast as the first few shots fired into her. The tightness in your chest as all the air left your lungs the moment you saw your parents turn into lifeless, unmoving bodies, bleeding out against the entryway of your family home.
It’s been eight years. Eight long, grueling years you have spent trying to avenge them—trying to get your revenge.
What was another three more bodies to your growing count?
You don’t care. They’re all just collateral. What you really want—who you really want—is Kim Jaehwi.
And you want him dead.
That was the plan. Until your recent mark started sending more grunts and goons out to hunt you—more than the usual at least.
On any other day, you’d flee the scene of the crime, head to your pathetic excuse for an apartment, clean your weapons and your clothes, and call it a day. But mere hours after you murdered everyone in that Mercedes-Benz, a manhunt for you was already in full swing.
Men in suits trudging up and down the streets. Goons with brass knuckles and similar hwando blades knocking on every house and business within ten kilometers of the incident. Police cars needing to stop at the blockades these thugs have set up themselves to initiate their own ‘investigation’.
You know the Devil Cat Clan is relentless. The moment they hear a man with a crow mask has reduced their member count even by just a bit, they chase after you. But today, you must have killed someone big. Because even the higher-ups want you gone now.
At least, that’s what you gathered when a spray of bullets disturbed your evening tea, shattering the flimsy walls of your two-hundred-thousand-won-per-month apartment. You don’t regret the loss of your favorite safehouse. You regret not salvaging the Samanco still sitting in your refrigerator.
You rush towards your other safehouses: the goshiwon in the Mapo district, the house out in the Gyeonggi-do suburbs, your college buddy’s place in Gangnam, the public safety shelter where you were brought to eight years ago back in Yongsan-gu.
But they have all been either broken into, torn apart inside-out, or heavily guarded by members of the Devil Cat Clan.
Well, shit.
You don’t even have enough time to worry about whether they’ve figured out who you are or not. Instead, you think of the last safe place you could seek refuge at.
The Requiem.
Before you even enter the underground bar, the bouncers on either side of the door give you nasty glances. You wonder if it’s because of your still in your usual tracksuit. They seem new—they aren’t used to you yet. As you push past them and head inside, you soon realize coming here is a bad idea when every criminal-in-hiding, vigilante, and underworld devil at the bar has their eyes on you like you don’t belong here.
Fuck them—you just want a goddamn drink and some room to breathe.
You slide over to the counter and signal for a drink from the bartender. He looks new too. He hesitates for a moment, but when you see your friend warn him with a glance, he immediately begins pouring you a glass of whiskey.
At least he knows better than to ask.
“Seems like someone’s had a rough few days,” Yujin teases, leaning forward on her elbows towards you. “You look like shit.”
“I have you to thank for that,” you say in between sips of your drink, feeling it burn down your throat. “Who the hell did you send me to kill? Ever since then, the Clan’s been on my ass non-stop.”
Yujin shrugs, pulling back to reach for one of the drawers, where a pile of keys were being kept. She picks one up and slides it over to the bald roughneck beside you. “Dunno. I’m just doing what you’ve told me to do: find members of the Devil Cat Clan causing trouble, ping their location, send them your way. Nothing more, nothing less.”
You scoff as you down the rest of your whiskey. “Whoever that was is causing more than just a pain in my neck. How big is this mess you got me in?” you ask, never really having the time to keep up with recent events.
As if on command, Yujin interrupts the ongoing football match on the TV and puts on the news—much to the dismay of several blokes.
You try to take it all in.
They’re covering it up. They made it out as an accident. Potential gang wars. No involvement from the Devil Cat Clan. They’re framing it as a tragedy. Collateral damage. Remnants of the ‘old school’ jopok ways—the old family style of mafia. But then the next few things catch your eye.
Whether it was further cover up, some sort of red herring, or something they actually had planned, the news comes as a surprise to you nonetheless.
Jaehwi has a daughter. And he’s marrying her off.
Something about strengthening the presence of the Devil Cat Clan. Something about metaphorically marrying their former jopok ways to more civilized and ‘clean’ endeavors. Whatever their explanations are, you don’t clock it. Partially because you could never believe that the Clan would ever want to come clean. Partially because there are four men with guns by the door threatening the bouncers to be allowed inside.
“Shit, they followed me all the way here,” you spit as you glance at Yujin for support. “Got anything for me?”
Without thinking twice, she pulls out a briefcase from underneath her and shoves it against your chest. “Bullets, clean set of clothes, burner phone. Get as far away from here as you can and sort this shit out before thinking of coming back again. Until then—don’t die.”
And as every last member of the Seoul underbelly at The Requiem pointed their guns towards the entrance of the bar, you take this as your chance to escape. Before darting out through the back entrance, you take one last look at the news showcasing Jaehwi’s revealed daughter.
Suddenly, an idea comes to you.
==
You thought it would be a good idea. You thought you could benefit off of the chaos going on in the background.
But the moment you walk through the gates of this traditional-style mansion at the very heart of the Devil Cat Clan’s scope of control, you begin to doubt your idea.
The plan was simple: act decent, present yourself naturally, and hope to get chosen as one of the potential aspirants for the hand of Jaehwi’s daughter. The rest? Well, the rest can follow. You have to worry about getting past screening first.
Which proved to be immediately difficult.
They ask for your identity and background, so you tell them the script Yujin prepared for you the moment you showed up at The Reqiuem searching for work as a new vigilante. They ask why you have weapons, and you tell them—who the hell doesn’t have weapons in this day and age? They ask you if you know what the Devil Cat Clan’s about, who the boss and his daughter are, and what your intentions for marriage would be. While you can’t tell them you’re here to get closer to Jaehwi and to end his miserable excuse for a life, you instead tell them, “I’m here because I see an opportunity to not just help the Clan with your endeavors, but to … pursue another endeavor of my own.”
They assume you meant getting with the boss’s daughter. You let it slide.
There are about ten other men of different ages and appearances at the waiting room. While they all form a colorful cast of potential husbands, what they had in common with each other (that you evidently didn’t have) was simple—affluence. Bespoke suits, watches that costed ten job’s worth of payouts, shoes that shined brighter than your future, gravitas that far exceeded what your dirty little lips could muster.
And yet, you still hold out hope.
By noon, that number reduces to seven. The first ones to go were the men pushing fifty—not much else to be said there.
By four, that number reduces further to five. The next ones to go were the men who had yet to make a name for themselves in their respective fields. This makes your legs tense and your breath hitch. You were getting closer and closer to the shaving point.
By nine, that number reduces to just two: you and this other guy in a white suit with a hairstyle that reminds you of Alex the Lion from Madagascar. He has the scars on his face to match the glint of the golden knuckles wrapped around his fists. You make the mistake of staring at him for too long, and when he catches your eye, he lets out some sort of growl as he cracks his fingers.
Well, this is just going swimmingly.
You’ve been a night owl all your life. Staying up past midnight is an easy feat. But the weight of the past few days being on the run is now slowly taking its toll on you. As the clock ticks further into the night, you find yourself losing the battle against sleep.
Until she walks in.
The first thing that rouses you from your slippery slope down into slumber is this fresh and powdery rose scent that’s elegant yet not overpowering. It thrills your nostrils. It captures your mind. The second thing that shakes you awake is the sound of her stilettos against the marble floor—gentle, light, unassuming. The final thing that makes you train your eyes on her was the way her floral dress clings to her slender frame, tracing up the length of her petite figure, and leads your gaze towards the neutral expression on her face.
She doesn’t belong here with the likes of Alex the Lion and you. She belongs somewhere between movie sets and luxury brand billboards.
She’s unreal.
And she’s looking right at you.
In fact, she’s not just looking—she’s pointing right at you. What did you do? Did you say something in your sleep? What the hell is going on? But the heat rushing to your face is overtaken by what her assistant says to you next. “Sirs, the decision by the young mistress has been made. You, in the back, please come with us.”
“Let’s get you acquainted with Lady Jiwon.”
Dinner.
They walk you along polished hallways dotted with traditional decor, through an luscious and well-maintained courtyard, and towards an imposing three-story building surrounded with Devil Cat Clan goons armed to the teeth—just for dinner.
You already regret your decision. But it’s too late to back out now.
As you enter the building, you’re brought towards the dining room that looks less like it belongs to an organized crime syndicate from the twenty-first century and more like it belonged to the owners of this house from six hundred years ago. A low dining table that looks a little larger than the usual soban frames the center of the room. Around it are several cushions atop a carpet with some sort of a mosaic design on it. Before you even contemplate hesitating, the man behind you presses up against you, reminding you of your situation with a shove. Eventually, you yield and join Jaehwi’s daughter at the table.
You have to hand it to the Devil Cat Clan—they are swift and efficient. Within moments, they begin setting the table. In mere moments, they pour you both tea, light some candles around the room, and set up different plates around Jaehwi’s daughter’s side of the table.
You say ‘they’ like there are multiple of them assembling all of this, when really, it’s just one woman in a traditional maid dress.
The assistant from earlier excuses himself and congratulates you for your first meal together. You’re not sure how to go about this, but you resolve to give it a try. Bowing next to you, the same maid from earlier gestures towards your empty side of the table. “Can I get you anything, young master? Our chefs are of the finest caliber, so I assure you—whatever cuisine your heart desires is no problem for us at all.”
You turn to the girl across you, still wearing her floral dress, staring at the food in front of her like she has seen this scene play out a thousand other times before. You return to the maid and say, “I’ll have what she’s having.”
You keep it simple. Nothing more than it should be. Dinner. Just dinner.
With that, the maid excuses herself with another bow and heads to the kitchen to relay your request.
You can hardly call it a meal—whatever she was given. It looks more like a batch of impulsively assembled side dishes that had a total calorie count equal to an average meal—less appetizing, more functional. You realize this girl wasn’t even asked what she wanted to eat. She was just served it.
Like she doesn’t have a choice.
The maid returns minutes later with a similar set of food. When you ask her about this peculiarity, she just smiles and says, “Lady Jiwon follows a strict diet as per the request of Master Jaehwi. She is quite used to it by now.”
Like hell she is, you think to yourself as you watch her barely touch anything laid out for her. You admit—it smells good. And these side dishes of hers even taste great. Better than any convenience store meal could offer at three in the morning. But she isn’t eating any of it. Instead, you file away those sentiments. You’re not here to give a damn about what Jaehwi’s daughter thinks about her ‘rich girl food’.
You’re here to find a chance to strike at her father. So, you start something you absolutely dread doing with your marks.
Small talk.
“So,” you begin, poking at the vegetables you saved for later. “Marriage. You and me. Why all of a sudden?”
No response from her.
Instead, the response comes from her maid, which you start to think is her personal maid, as she continues hovering just out of view. “Lady Jiwon has been of age for years now, young master. It was only a matter of time before her father offers her hand to suitors. Lady Jiwon is aware of this, and is prepared to take any actions necessary to preserve the dignity of the Devil Cat Clan as his eldest child.”
You roll your eyes. So much for getting more information out of this girl. But you try again.
“Ok then. What about you? I mean, you as a person. Tell me about yourself.”
Again, before the girl could even get anything past her lips, the maid in the back replies, “Lady Jiwon is a wonderful woman. She has grown so much since I’ve begun taking care of her as a child. She enjoys gardening, traditional arts, and fashion among many other things. I’m afraid I cannot disclose much about her as is forbidden by Master Jaehwi. I hope this much will suffice for you, young master.”
This maid is starting to get on your nerves. You’re never getting to Jaehwi at this rate.
Clearing your throat, you exhale briskly before putting down your chopsticks. This grabs the girl’s attention, and when she locks eyes with you for the first time since arriving here, you ask, “Are you ok with getting married like this? Like a transaction? I mean, there’s always divorce, but your first marriage has to at least mean something, right?”
On cue, the maid responds, “Lady Jiwon has—.”
“Lady Jiwon this, Lady Jiwon that—I’m not asking for what you think she wants to say. I’m asking the damn woman in front of me what she thinks herself. So stop interrupting her,” you growl, maintaining your gaze towards Jaehwi’s daughter. “Just tell me. Do you even want to get married?”
She remains speechless against your first act of defiance within her household—within the territory of the Devil Cat Clan. The girl trembles in a way that a stray cat would when approached by a stranger—or anyone else for that matter—for the very first time. She has this look like she wants to come up with something, like she wants to say something, but what’s stopping her isn’t that she wasn’t sure about it.
She wasn’t sure if she was allowed.
Once the moment has come to pass, the maid interjects once more. “Like I was saying, young master, Lady Jiwon—.”
“It’s ok … Areum-unnie …”
Her voice. It came out. And god forbid—if you weren’t sitting within the premises of the Clan that murdered your parents, you would have likely spared the thought that she sounds just like an angel would. “It’s ok … I’ll take it from here.”
She’s no longer hunched forward. She’s no longer eating—not like she was picking at her food much earlier anyway. Now, posture straight, hands on her lap, she bows her head in a polite manner before rising up to meet your defiance. “I don’t have a choice. It’s … what’s needed of me. The least I can do is try to enjoy this as much as I can. I suggest you do the same.”
“I’d be enjoying this more if you’d stop looking like you’d rather be anywhere else but here.”
Her face does a thing that’s not enough to be a smile but is certainly above neutrality. The corners of her lips twitch in a way that you ascertain is of her own volition. “Thank you for sharing a meal with me. I … I’m sorry I couldn’t offer much for our first meal together. But I hope we can look forward to more … fruitful interactions in the future.
You fight yourself from scoffing. Yeah right—like you’ll let this farce play out for any longer.
Before she is able to stand up and command her maid, you shoot up from your seat and clear your throat. “Your … your father. Is he … home?”
That was such a weird fucking question to ask her, and her expression reflects the same sense of surprise. But still, she replies, “No. Father is away again tonight. Like always.”
Like always. The words echo in your head a few times. “I see. Sorry if that was … a bit weird to ask. I just wanted to—.”
Areum interrupts you with a terribly hidden snicker. “Oh my, young master. How bold of you to be having such … thoughts already. You need not worry. Even if he was home, I imagine he wouldn’t mind his daughter’s suitor seeing her upstairs.”
“Seeing her upstairs?”
Areum nods, running a hand down her mistress’s back several times to smoothen out the creases of her dress. “You did wish to see her to her room, did you not? I don’t blame you—it would be wise to get acquainted sooner rather than later. You do remember that part of the provision for marriage, no? If Lady Jiwon deems you unfit for her hand in marriage, Master Jaehwi will have you killed.”
Well, shit. You should have read through those damn papers better.
Caught between your held breath and the next, you nod like someone who was just realizing what they had signed up for. “Yeah … I’d like to accompany her upstairs. Do you mind?”
Areum shakes her head, extending her hand in invitation. “Right this way, young master. The living room is on the second floor. Her bedroom is on the third. Lady Jiwon, I trust you will be in good hands. Consider this … a test of his prudence and fidelity.”
Prudence this, fidelity that. You just need a chance to escape. If you had known Jaehwi wasn’t going to be anywhere near his daughter, and if you had half a brain cell to even read that contract you signed earlier, you wouldn’t be here right now.
You wouldn’t have done this.
The girl glances over her shoulder without even fully turning around. She eyes you like you should already know what to do. Oh, how mistaken she is when you don’t even offer your arm out to her as you two ascended the stairs. Instead, you left her to cling to the wooden grooves of the railing.
You pause by the landing on the second floor, and she wonders what’s wrong. “Nothing, nothing. I just—can you give me a moment before I head up? This is new even for me, entering a woman’s bedroom and all. I just want to be … a bit more ready.”
While you might not be the best suitor, you are certainly a well-versed liar. She buys your deceit without a hint of doubt and continues upstairs to her room.
Now that you’re alone, your mind races. The plan is in fucking shambles.
You were here for Jaehwi—not for his daughter. But the bloody bloke isn’t even home. Defense mechanism or just poor parenting? You couldn’t care any less. You came here to strike from within the Devil Cat Clan while they were still scrambling outside to find you. You aren’t leaving without doing any significant damage to them at the very least.
When you feel the weight of your hands drift towards your legs, inching closer and closer to your holsters, you then unravel a certain line of thought.
What if you don’t kill Jaehwi?
A riveting idea, you have to admit. But, what if you didn’t kill him? Instead, what if you kill someone else?
What if you took the life of someone that mattered to him, just like how he took the only two people you have ever loved in your life from you?
So you wait an hour. Then two. And once you’re certain the girl isn’t peeking over the balcony anymore to see if you were still coming up after her, you don your crow mask once more and grip your hwando.
This is for your parents.
You ascend up the final flight of stairs, one step at a time, holding your breath.
This is for what they did to your family—this is what they did to you.
One hand on the handle of the sliding door, you carefully tug it open and reveal the dark bedroom with its owner sleeping on her bed, back towards you.
This … is for what he took from you—Jaehwi … Now, it’s your turn to take from him.
And as you hovered over the girl’s bed, blade in hand, the same weapon that you’ve used to take countless of Devil Cat Clan lives with, you slice downwards and split her neck wide open.
At least, you would have, if you didn’t hear her sob.
Pausing with the sharpened edge nearly pressing into the delicate exposed skin of her nape, you shudder and tighten your core.
She’s crying.
Once she shifts and turns towards the reason why there’s a depression next to her on the bed, you swiftly take off your mask and shove it behind you while also sheathing your blade in the same motion.
“It’s … you. You’re still here …?”
Sweating, shaking, body tensing like a strung bow, your neck produces the bare minimum motion for a nod. “Yeah, I … I guess I still am. I didn’t mean to disturb your sleep, really. I was just … I was just …”
You look across her face: at her reddened eyes, at the damp spots against her unblemished cheeks, at the hair that clung to her temples, and at her full lips that quivered with the slightest motions.
Then, you sigh. “Sorry if I woke you up. You were … crying, weren’t you?” you point out like an idiot, as if she didn’t already know that. “Is it because of what I asked you earlier?”
She doesn’t respond. She doesn’t even want to look you in the eye.
Instead of the awkward kneel and hover you’re doing above her laying figure, you instead convert to a sit on her mattress. It was only then that the girl fluffed her comforter up so you could apparently join her under the sheets.
You don’t question it. You just slip right in.
Hand on her waist above the comforter, she turns on her side once more. “I don’t want to get married. I … I never even dated anyone yet. Never really liked anyone before. But my father … he said it was time. Our Clan is losing influence. Many of our members are defecting and joining other families and gangs. He … he said there was no other way.”
You thought you hated Jaehwi enough already, but you learned you could hate him even more. “Your dad isn’t exactly the picture of parenthood, is he? Can’t you just say no? Can’t you just run away from all of this?”
She lets out a soft chuckle before shaking her head. You watch as the wavy ends of her hair dance underneath the moonlight. “All that I am … all that I have … is here. With my clan. I have nothing else. No one else. So I … I have no choice but to stay.”
She does something behind her back. She rests the back of her palm against her lower spine and splays her fingers open.
“Just for tonight … you can leave tomorrow and never come back … but for tonight, can you please—can you please just pretend to be mine and stay with me?”
You feel the weight of your blade against its sheathe. You feel the weight of each individual bullet in your pistol. You feel the weight of the pouring rain against your back on the night of your parents’ funeral.
And then, you feel the weight of her open hand against your thigh.
And then, you take it.
“You have some nerve allowing me to stay here. I could be an assassin out for your family’s money or something,” you tease, sublimating the anxiety that’s beginning to build up in the back of your head. “Why did you even choose me in the first place? I’m sure the other guys who were waiting to marry you could do more for you than just … this.”
You thought it would take her longer than that to respond, but you are mistaken.
In a heartbeat, she squeezes your hand in hers and tells you, “You seemed like the least threatening one. It felt like I could be safe with you.”
Your blade clinks in its place as if to laugh at her response, but you keep it silent with a firm squeeze as you sigh.
“Let’s hope you’re right about that.”
==
That is not the only time you attempt to assassinate Jaehwi’s daughter. In fact, that is not the only time you fail to kill her.
Like that one time you tried to maul her with a crowbar you picked up from the armory across the courtyard. You were going to beat her skull in but you had to stop when she ducked down to pet a stray kitten that wandered into the compound.
You stopped for the kitten—not for her.
Or that one time you aimed at her from the living room window on the second floor as she made her way towards some of the Clan members. You could have easily pulled the trigger several times on her, but you held back when she kept bowing politely to each one of them. You had to stop because you couldn’t miss your shot—and the lord knows Yujin didn’t pack you enough bullets.
It didn’t help that she spotted you shortly after and waved at you.
How about that other time when you approached her with a garrote in hand, ready to strangle her from behind? She was too busy watering her flowers to notice that you had arrived. You couldn’t just let her choke to death and cough up blood all over her orchids, right?
Instead, you ended up watching her tend to her personal garden as the sun set quietly behind you both.
This isn’t working out at all. Every time you got close to Jaehwi’s daughter, something would always get in the way of you ending her life. It was meant to be swift. You planned to make it as painless and as clean as possible. But time and again, life had other plans.
At least, that’s what you told yourself.
Your window to visit her always opens at four in the afternoon. By the fifth day since the beginning of your arranged marriage, you were all out of ideas on how to take her out as you show up to the front gate of the mansion once more.
“I.D.?”
You look up at the burly guard in front of you, blocking your way. “What would I need an I.D. for?”
He grunts, leaning forward to cast his shadow over you, and repeats, “I said, I’m going to need an I.D. Before I let you in.”
Just when you were about to consider beating the hell out of this gorilla, a familiar face pokes her head through the door and smiles up at you. “Young master, I see you’re on time once again. Come, please head inside.”
You don’t appreciate her comment on being timely—you just had nowhere else to be. You couldn’t take any jobs from Yujin. Couldn’t even be anywhere near The Requiem or any of your safehouses. This was all you had now, so of course you showed up on time.
You give the gorilla-looking guard one final smirk before heading indoors.
Unlike the previous times that you’ve been here, Jiwon was nowhere to be found. Normally, you expect her to be sitting by the courtyard or reading a book in the living room. But today, she wasn’t home.
An idea strikes you.
You race up to her bedroom knowing full well that she wasn’t around, and with a quickened breath, you open her door and welcome yourself inside.
You start going through all of her things.
Her cabinets, drawers, that one compartment attached to her desk, the plastic crates underneath her bed, behind each ornament on her shelf, and even between the nooks and crannies that filled with dust—you leave no stone unturned in your desperate attempt to get any information that you can use on either her or Jaehwi.
But you found nothing.
The only thing you discover is that this girl was abundantly … mundane? There is no better way to put it.
When you pictured what the daughter of Kim Jaehwi would be like, you thought of anything but this.
You imagined a spoiled chaebol who hopped from country to country each week and only visited Korea whenever daddy wanted her back home. You imagined fancy hotels, spending sprees, parties with as much designer drugs as she had designer clothes, running from the law, and getting her father to bail her out with his ‘influence’ each time.
You certainly did not expect someone this … bland and quiet.
As you withdraw from the last of her wardrobe, coughing at the dust that spewed from the hangers of her untouched clothes, you wonder what use killing this girl would be in the grander scheme of things. It almost feels like Jaehwi doesn’t care about her enough to even let her become her own person. It almost feels like she doesn’t even matter to him.
But why do you care?
“What are you doing?”
Yeah, what were you doing? The words repeat in your head. But when you realize someone else said it to you, you hide your hands behind your back and turn to see Liz wrapped up in a pair of towels. “Why were you going through my stuff?”
Well, shit. What’s the lie this time?
You could tell her you saw a bug and couldn’t kill it before it snuck into her wardrobe. You could tell her Areum asked you to prepare some clothes for her—seeing that she’s buck naked beneath those towels. You could even just tell her that the wardrobe was open when you entered, and you were just closing it.
Instead, the truth slips from your lips.
“Look, there’s a reason for this …” you confess, unsure of where this was heading. But when you look at her confused and naive expression, you conscience won’t let you lie to someone like her again. “I just … I don’t know what I was hoping to do actually. I guess I was … I guess I was just trying to get to know you more. Somehow.”
Strangely true. That wasn’t even much of a lie. “Huh. Ok …”
“Ok,” you say in return, bouncing on your heels as you avoid making eye contact with her. But she bats her lashes twice as if she’s waiting for you to continue your alibi. “I uh, how do I put this? It’s weird just marrying you and into … all of this … without really knowing you much at all.”
“You think it’s unnatural,” she wonders, her tone bordering more on curiosity than concern.
“That’s one way to see this. Definitely.”
“So you want to … align stories?” she continues.
“Align stories? Right, right—align stories,” you nod, deciding to go with it. “I’m sure the other higher-ups of the Clan will want to know how I earned your respect. Or love. The media will have questions too when they publicize all of this. We should work on our cover story.”
You are so eager to delve deeper into this farce that you fail to realize Jiwon is waiting for you to stop running your tongue and give her a moment to change. “Right—after you change, of course. Would be difficult talking to you while you’re still naked.”
Her expression doesn’t change. So you shut yourself up, head out, and give her some time.
Once she’s ready, she calls you back in.
Her room smells of citrus shampoo, conditioner, and wet skin. You walk towards her and sit on the edge of her bed while she crosses her legs atop it.
“So, what ideas do you have for a cover story? I think the first few things we need to iron out are how we met, why we started dating, and what we love about each other. Sappy, I know, but it’s realistic at least.”
Jiwon purses her lips in thought, but it doesn’t amount to anything concrete.
“Ok, let’s try to break it down further. Maybe we can start with the first question: how did we meet? Where do you usually go? You know, for fun and stuff. Where do you hang out outside of home? Maybe we can use that—I can work with it. Better something you’re familiar with so you end up making less mistakes when you explain.”
But Jiwon isn’t able to give you a response. She just looks at you as if you might have the answers she’s looking for.
“Wait, do you … mostly just stay at home?”
The way she retreats underneath her comforter is enough of a response for you. “Huh. I can’t really say I met you at home. They’ll think I’m some kind of robber breaking and entering into your house. They’ll have me killed.”
“I … I used to go to school,” she offers up in an attempt to pitch something useful. “I had to stop after middle school because my father didn’t like how there weren’t any exclusive high schools for girls. Any good ones, at least.”
“You could have gone to Sookmyung or Sehwa. Those are really close to my old high school,” you ponder, drawing figures on her bedsheet as if you were mapping it out. “One time, me and my friends got—.”
You stop yourself. Why are you remembering this?
This is a memory from your past life—a life you chose to bury and leave behind. This is a memory attached to who you once were, to who you used to be, to the you that still managed to have a normal life—with his parents. But that’s over now. And you swore not to think about it—any of it—ever again.
So why are you bringing it up again? Why are you even telling her this?
When you pause, she reaches a hand out and tries to place it over yours, but she jerks it back towards her person and gets all shy about it. Despite that, she has this look on her that’s telling you to continue, to not hold back. She must be thinking you were conscious about oversharing. She’s blissfully unaware that you’re intentionally stopping yourself.
“I … This one time, we all tried to get ourselves a date for Valentine’s. Stupid, I know, but we thought we might have a chance asking outside of our high school. So half of us went to Sookmyung, and the other half—my half—we went to Sehwa. I told them to play it cool, but god, they were such dorks. They approached the first girls that walked out of the school entrance, hitting on them right away. I was so embarrassed because of them that I barely got to ask anyone out.”
“Glad you know that was very weird,” she notes. “If I studied there, I would have called the cops on you.”
“Yeah, admittedly I’m not the best at courting or dating anyone. Never really had a girlfriend either so … this is all pretty new to me too. Which is crazy … right? One day I’m … just another person on the street, and the next day I’m … I’m marrying someone like you.”
You two share a look of understanding but immediately glance away when you connect a little too deeply with the other.
“I don’t know why I brought that up, sorry. It just came to me,” you try to continue past the topic. “So you didn’t go to high school. That’s out of the question for our cover story. Did you go anywhere for fun? In your free time?”
You think of asking her when even was her free time because every day seemed like a free day to her. She doesn’t seem to be invested in any form of academics, business, or even hobbies for that matter. She was just … here. At home.
“I … I like to sing.”
You nod, leaning into that. “Yeah, Areum told us. I remember that. What do you usually sing? Karaoke?”
“I’ve only been to a karaoke place once before, actually … I was probably twelve at the time,” she recalls, lacing her fingers together atop her lap. “My father had to meet some people, and he wanted to bring me along to introduce me. I ended up sneaking out and into the empty room next door. I had a blast singing some of my favorite anime songs.”
“You watch anime?” you ask in disbelief like Jaehwi’s daughter having some semblance of a personality was earth-shattering to you. “What did you watch?”
She chuckles like she thinks it’s ridiculous. “Oh, nothing big. Just … Madoka Magica, Shinsekai Yori, San-Gatsu no Lion. Those shows …”
She buries her face into her palms and peaks out at you to see your reaction. You in fact have none. You’re too stunned by this to even think of a response. “So the daughter of a syndicate leader likes dark magical girls, dystopian fantasies, and human drama.”
“Is it … bad?”
You shake your head and laugh at such a question in disbelief. “Not at all, it’s actually very … endearing. By any chance, did you ever watch …?”
You talk about your favorite anime shows and movies. Of course, you can’t help but circle back to the topic of your favorite openings and endings. As a result of this, you talk about other similar things too: your favorite K-dramas, your favorite Western movies, favorite bands and musical artists, favorite genres of music. You even go as far as talking about the places around Korea that she’s visited—Jeju being the standout one. About her favorite types of food—whenever she is allowed a cheat day of sorts, at least. About her favorite pastimes even, which she explains is all she ever does now in her daily idyllic life.
Throughout this entire time, you get the feeling that she’s another person—that she’s another human being. Just like you. The label of being Jaehwi’s daughter is something you easily forget—just like your initial excuse of coming up with a cover story together. It feels refreshing hearing her answer out of her own volition, recount stories and memories without being prompted, and actually responding to you like she has a mind of her own.
It’s incredible watching Jaehwi’s daughter opening herself up like this to you.
When you ask her what kind of cake is her favorite—and you hope it’s oreo cheesecake too because that’s the only cake you will ever eat—she asks if this is for your wedding. “I never really thought about the flavor yet … it has to be fancy though, right? My father—.”
You click your teeth and swat at her. “My father this, my father that—I’m asking you what you want. Actually, screw the wedding. Let’s not … let’s not even think about that right now. If your dad wasn’t in the picture, what would you be doing right now? What would you want to do, huh? What would you try?”
You can see the years of being under control dance across her face as she thinks long and hard about the answers to your questions. It takes her a few minutes to decide on a response that’s satisfactory to her—a quirk of hers, you now learn—but she ends up saying, “I want to … play video games.”
Leaning forward, you stare at her with eyes as wide and as open as your jaw. “What? You’ve never played video games before?”
She crinkles her nose in an innocent way. “Don’t say it like that … I wasn’t allowed to play any games growing up. My father thought it was a waste of time, and he would always put me on some kind of tutor for the summer: piano, traditional dance, painting—you name it. It was only my mother … who … who …”
She begins to choke on her words, and you see her visually jerk and jolt in place as she’s struggling with more than just words now. “I-I … she …”
You don’t think twice: you hold her hands and squeeze them. “Rough topic? Sorry, if I had known—.”
But she shakes her head. “No … no it’s ok … Just being … yeah, don’t worry about that. I um, I never really got to play any video games. If I could use my money, I’d maybe … maybe buy a TV.”
“You do know that’s not how you play video games, right?”
She turns her head to the side like an owl would. “But I saw my sister playing on her TV. Isn’t that where most games are now?”
She has a sister? You file that away for later.
But your hand can’t resist slapping itself across your face. A groan shortly follows. “That’s … what we call consoles. Probably a console, yeah. This nifty little gadget you plug CDs into? The CDs have the games, and the console lets you play it. On the TV. The TV itself does nothing for you.”
“So you mean to say you need a console to allow you to play a game, and you need a TV to allow you to play a console? That … sounds very complicated,” she points out. And when you hear it said out loud by someone who has never known any of this, you realize that she’s got a point. “Are they expensive?”
“Are you kidding? You’re Kim Jaehwi’s daughter. You’re flooded to the chin with cash from—.”
You stop yourself when you start to remember the debt your parents owned Jaehwi’s lowlife loansharks. You stop before the memories can come surging back from when they would arrive weekly to try and shake what little cash your family had left to make your parents pay up. You can feel the blood boiling in your veins as you remember what got you here in the first place—what brought you your misery.
But when you look at Jaehwi’s daughter and see the soft of her nose twitch out of concern for you, slowly, your frustration begins to fade. “Sorry … yeah, you’ve got money on your side. I wouldn’t be worried about that.”
“What games can you play on one? Can you … can you play Minecraft?”
Your hand flies back to your face. The daughter of Kim Jaehwi, the leader of the top syndicate in all of Korea, wants to play fucking Minecraft? She could have asked for anything else—a weeklong vacation in the Maldives, her own private jet or yacht or limousine, or even a pet peacock if she was that freaky.
But Minecraft? That’s something commoners enjoy.
Something you enjoyed.
When you stand up, you almost don’t want to leave when she crawls across her bed to follow you, but you reassure her with a smile.
After half an hour of awkward conversation with her personal maid and sifting through dusty boxes in the storage room, you return to her bedroom with an old laptop, its charger, and an extension cord.
“That’s …”
“Borrowed it for a while. It was a pain convincing Areum to let me even have it, but she said it might still have your dad’s credit card credentials on it,” you happily announce, laying it all out on the bed and plugging the laptop to the nearby outlet. “We could get you Minecraft on this.”
“You don’t have to. My father would—.”
“Probably notice?” you finish her sentence as you enter the password Areum told you. “He wouldn’t mind losing a couple thousand won. What’s that against his daughter’s happiness?”
As you connect to the internet with the laptop—something you both are surprised by—you head over to the website, purchase the game, and wait for it to install. As you’re explaining to her the general gist of the mechanics within the game, you notice in your peripheral vision that her mouth is doing that thing again. It pulls up from the corners this time, towards her ears, ever-so-slightly.
She smiles.
Shaking your head, once the all-too-familiar loading screen comes into view, you place the laptop onto her lap. “Think you’ll be fine, or do you need me to backseat you?”
She bites her lip and says, “I think I’ll be fine. So I just … press ‘singleplayer’ right?”
She was definitely not fine.
She spent the first ten minutes marveling at her new game, it’s unique block design and layout, and the cute little baby pig that approached her from the forest. But once the first ten minutes are up and nighttime falls upon her, she is immediately racing towards the nearest pile of dirt to bury herself six blocks under.
She alternates between whimpers and screams with each zombie and skeleton that chases after her poor unarmored character, struggling to even collect wood or stone without the ever-present fear of a mob jumping at her. While you’re watching this girl play what is likely her very first video game, you can’t help but feel this tightness in your chest.
It isn’t happiness. It isn’t joy. You knew what those felt like once upon a time. This is something … different. You resolve not to give it a name. Instead, you decide to see her sob into her thighs as she gets blown up by a Creeper for the seventh time in a single night, her items scattering to the winds.
You don’t even realize that you fell asleep at some point. The last thing you remember was her rocking your thigh steadily while mining for some iron in an abandoned mineshaft.
The moment you wake up, the room is dark, and the moonlight from the window is faint. It must have been hours now since you passed out. The first thoughts in your mind are the laptop and Jaehwi’s daughter, worried about what else beyond Minecraft she must have gone on with it.
Your answers, conveniently enough are right next to you—tucked into bed, back against you, the device right next to her blanketed feet, sleeping soundly like one would after a whole evening of playing Minecraft.
You pick up the laptop and unlock it, wondering what she was up to while you were out cold.
There, on the corner of the screen, was a sticky note. Written on it were the words: Made a house, too scared to mine again.
You opened the game and saw her humble little shack cobbled together with different bits of stone, wood, and spare wool. The occasional leaf blocks throughout the design tell you how desperate she was to build somewhere to live.
Cracking your knuckles, you manage a smile as you equip yourself with her nearly-broken wooden sword. “Leave the rest to me then.”
You spend the entire night lighting up a large area around her house with torches, making a little mineshaft downwards from the side of her house, and clearing the nearby zones off of any hostile mobs. You put it the dirty work—the kind of work you enjoy more back when you used to play this game with friends—so that she doesn’t have to. You’re amazed you still remember the recipe for a shield, how to pick off mobs with a bow, or even how to abuse hunger mechanics.
By the time you leash a dog to one of her fences, your eyes begin to falter, and before you know it, the early morning rays of sun threaten to blind you from the window. But the call of sleep is too strong. You hope you’ve done enough for her today. Now, it was finally time to rest in the real world.
Little did you know that the girl beside you got to wake up with a wide grin on her face as she took her new pet along with her to explore the world once more.
==
Your days with Jaehwi’s daughter look a lot like that day.
You spend your mornings doing god-knows-what trying to get your life back together again despite what’s going on around you. After a few days blow over, the heat on your back drops and you manage to return to The Requiem to take more jobs from Yujin. You clean these jobs up like usual, but you take extra pre-caution to get to your mark before four in the afternoon.
Because that was when your time with her began.
Of course, you’re keeping up an act. It wouldn’t make sense to stop following through after just a few days. It would make the Clan suspicious. It would place heat on you again.
Of course, you tell yourself that, but in actuality, spending time with his daughter was oddly enough a pleasant treat.
Whenever you come over, she’s already in the living room, hunched over her laptop, eyes wide open as the lights from her game flash all across her face. It’s almost endearing how adorable she looks when she’s taken over by the childhood wonder she’s been withheld from for years.
It’s almost endearing—until you remember you still have to kill her.
And you still try. You still try to end her life. But you know how things go—life still gets in the way.
You try attaching your ol’ reliable silencer to your pistol and convince her to enter the Nether, so you could shoot her in the back while she’s distracted by armies of Piglins. But the moment the lack of gold on her character becomes a problem, she’s throwing herself at you as if a physical escape in the real world would equate to a similar escape in the game.
You end up just hugging her trembling form and reminding her it’s just a game. The Piglins can’t hurt her in real life.
You try stabbing her in her sleep again—just like you originally planned. But Jaehwi’s daughter is one hell of a light sleeper. The moment you open the door to her room, she’s already turning towards you like she’s been expecting you. She pats the side of her bed and invites you to sit next to her, telling you all about what she did in Minecraft that day, how annoying Phantoms are, and how she might make a boat out of cherry wood and sail across the large ocean to the east.
You end up smiling through her stories of being raided by Pillagers.
You even try poisoning her food. You offered to serve her some breakfast in bed to surprise her, and Areum is immediately taken by your ‘sweetness’, naive to the notion of you sprinkling her meal with an agent so strong it would only take one bite to kill any mark. Except she doesn’t even want to take a bite of her food. She was too eager to jump back into the game again the moment she wakes up, insisting you eat the food yourself so it wouldn’t go to waste.
You end up dumping her laced breakfast into the trash, but not before kicking the can in frustration.
You regret buying her that damned game. Who would have thought it would make things more difficult than it already was.
This was unreal.
“Yeong Kyungsam—thirty-three, married with no children, head of logistics at one of Jaehwi’s construction companies, one of their fronts for money laundering.”
Bang.
“Myo Seungri—fifty-five, unmarried, retired grunt who worked for Jaehwi’s father and helped kill students during the Gwangju Uprising back in the eighties.”
Bang bang.
“Jeong Sooyun—twenty-seven, unmarried, works as a loanshark—.”
Bang bang bang.
As the blood stopped spreading across Sooyun’s carpet, you kick her lifeless face to make sure that she’s dead dead. You kick her face again just for the hell of it. Once you confirm she’s gone, you stuff your pistol in your holster and check the time on your phone.
Three-thirty-five.
Leaning against the window, you part the curtains and stare outside, weighing your options. It would take approximately half an hour to get to the mansion, but it would only take fifteen minutes to go to the nearest Subway to get a sandwich.
You go with the sandwich.
You line up, get your order taken, get your order messed up, watch as the staff apologizes and redoes your order with her manager behind her, and then finally, you get the sandwich you’ve been craving for, and take a seat somewhere near the back.
But it tastes like shit.
This is your favorite order for a sandwich and it tastes like absolute ass. You’re not sure if it’s because you can’t stomach eating this alone or because you can taste the guilt of your actions with each bite. Whatever it is, it makes you check the time on your phone again.
Four-eleven.
You let out a sigh. Next to you, a high school student is eyeing you with a scared look on his face. You’re not sure if he’s scared because of your weapons or because you’ve been staring blankly at your half-eaten sandwich for minutes now. Either way, you offer him your half, and when he strangely enough accepts, you get up and begin jogging towards the Devil Cat Clan’s mansion.
“You’re late. But I still need your I.D.”
You grunt as you pretend to look for your non-existent I.D. through your different pockets. No way in hell are you giving this gorilla your actual I.D. “Can’t you let me in? I’ve been coming here for days now. Surely you recognize me.”
The guard doesn’t flinch. “You’re late, Tracksuit. She’s not happy with it.”
Those words stab into your chest. “I know, so could you just let me in?”
Before the gorilla can beat you to death, Areum pops her head out and assesses the ruckus before saying, “You’re here, young master. I thought you wouldn’t be coming today. You’re quite late.”
You exhale firmly through your nose. “I’m very aware of that. Could you help me get in?”
Sure enough, Areum waves down the guard and helps you enter the premises of the estate. She’s aware you know your way around by now, so she leaves you to confront the inevitable as she heads off to attend to some chores.
When you make it up to the third floor and open the bedroom door, a pillow smacks you right in the face before falling between your feet.
“You’re late,” she accuses you without looking up from the laptop. She’s just circling around the apps with the trackpad, pretending to be busy. “I thought you weren’t going to come.”
You shrug, picking up the pillow and placing it next to her. “I don’t have to come everyday, do I?”
That’s what makes her look away from her laptop. She clutches the pillow you picked up and hugs it tight against her chest. “I guess not …”
You glance away as you feel heat overtake your face for a brief moment. “Whatever. Is this what you’ve been up to again? You’re way too addicted to this. Maybe I should delete—.”
The pillow smacks your face again, and immediately, she recovers it with a pout. “Don’t you dare.”
“Oh I would, young lady. You’re cooping up here’s gotten worse since I bought you that game,” you point out, sitting on the bed now. “Honestly, I’m surprised you even managed to play all this time with just a trackpad. Doesn’t it hurt your fingers?”
She shakes her head. “I can manage. Want to see what I built while you were gone?”
You inch closer to her and she shows you what’s new. You give her a day, and she managed to build a simple doghouse for her pet. You give her three days, and she managed to dig streets into the ground, make her own pathways with a shovel, and connect the roads in a cute little pattern. You give her a week, and she’s managed to copy the layout of this mansion as similarly as she could with the limited blocks and materials she has access to.
“Not bad, not bad,” you’re saying over her shoulder as you watch her do donuts on her boat. “I bet by the time we get married you would have already built all of Seoul in your world.”
Her mouth does it again—she smiles. But this time, she’s chuckling along with it.
But that moment is short-lived when your noses touch and you both realize how close you are to each other.
Instead of pulling herself away, she lets you stay where you are, hovering above your shoulder. Instead of withdrawing yourself, you allow yourself to stay close to her, staying by her side.
The two of you don’t say anything for a good few minutes.
What breaks the ice is one of your fingers moving towards hers, which was by the trackpad. You wiggle it around, and the field of view in the game wiggles around as well. “Maybe we should get you a mouse.”
“A mouse?”
“Yeah, for your laptop. I think we can get you a nice Logitech one that’s bluetooth too. It will help you with your building—trust me,” you explain. “And you’ve been playing on mute still? No wonder you keep getting jumped by mobs. I turned on subtitles for you already, but it helps to hear where they’re coming from too.”
“Ah, I get conscious playing with volume, especially when everyone’s already asleep.”
You chuckle. “You know, you’re technically their boss. I’m sure they wouldn’t give a damn if they heard their boss screaming after being chased by Skeletons again.”
She punches your shoulder—not a soft one, but one that packs some strength behind it. “Ya! I know how to use a shield now, you know?”
She raised her voice. That was the first time she’s ever done that. Endearingly.
When you don’t speak, she hides her face against the pillow and looks up only to paddle back to her little dock area. “I guess some earphones would help.”
Leaning back on your hands, you ask her, “What else do you want to buy? I don’t just mean for your laptop or to feed your Minecraft addiction—I mean other things. In general, you know?”
“In general …?”
You nod, glancing around the bare room within her four walls. “Things you’ve always wanted but never got to have. Things you couldn’t buy for yourself. Things you wish Jae—your dad could have gifted you but didn’t. Because he’s an asshole.”
She punches you again, this time with less power as she seems a bit more conscious. “Not clothes then. He only ever buys me clothes. Sometimes they aren’t even the right size.”
You think about the wardrobe filled with dust. You think about the first dinner you shared together and how meek she was. And you think about how, right now, you’ve heard her speak ill of her father for the first time. “You’re sure daddy won’t be mad if he heard that?”
And then, for the first time as well, you see her smirk at you. “Daddy won’t mind if I spend money again. He hasn’t given me a gift for my birthday last year anyway. This is just … making up for it.”
“I believe the word you’re looking for is ‘revenge’,” you quip, yet the word never felt sourer in your mouth. “How about we go to the mall then?”
Immediately, her expression twists and tightens. “The mall …? You mean like … outside?”
You nod, weirded out by her question. “Where else would the mall be? I know a gaming store I used to … I used to go to when I was younger. If they’re still open, maybe we could buy your gaming gear there with a discount too. Then, we can go around and see if there’s anything else you want to buy. We could even get something to eat afterwards.”
It seems she doesn’t like what you’re telling her. The moment you run your mouth about the different things you could do together at the mall, she falls silent and returns to that wilted state you first saw her in.
Dropping the topic, you reach out to her. But you stop yourself before your hand could touch her skin.
Why were you doing this? Why were you offering to go to the mall with her?
She could ask someone like Areum to go with her and buy whatever it is you listed out. She could just order them online and have them delivered the next day without any problems. Why did she have to go to the mall? And why did she have to go with you?
You’re supposed to fucking kill her—not babysit her.
Not take her out on some date.
When she comes to once again, she pushes the laptop away along with the pillow she was previously hugging. She curls up into a ball and lays down with her back towards you.
Well, shit. What did you say this time?
Rubbing your temple, you lay down next to her, share a moment of silence first, and then speak to the ceiling. “Another sore spot? Sorry about that. I still need to get used to your … triggers.”
But she shook her head. “No, it’s just … I … I don’t want to disappoint you.”
“Disappoint me?” you say, and you fight the urge to look at her, knowing she would get too conscious—too ‘seen’. “Believe me, I’ve been called a disappointment more times than you can count. You’re the last thing I’ll think of when I think ‘disappointment’.”
Something in her springs to life. Something in her makes her sit up, and then get off the bed.
You follow her. You trail behind her like you’re her shadow. She glides out of her bedroom, down the stairs, into the courtyard, through the lavishly decorated hallways, past the Clan goons who all greet her politely, and when you’re both finally at the main entrance of the estate, she takes a deep breath and sighs.
She takes one step through the door and instantly, she’s shaking. Sweating. Like she’s sick. Like she’ll combust if she steps out into the light.
It’s only then that you recognize what was happening—a panic attack.
You lift her beneath her shoulders and bring her back inside, and without any hesitation, she’s clinging to you for dear life.
You hear her sobbing into your chest.
“I-I can’t … I can’t go out …” she whimpers, shaking her head, trying to dry her eyes against your jacket. “I-I-It feels like I need to … need to vomit. Head spinning, chest … chest hurting. I can’t … I’m sorry.”
Whatever happened to her—whoever did this to her—had a lot of explaining to do. But not her. She didn’t have to say another word. “You idiot … you didn’t have to do all this just to show me. Don’t worry about it. We’ll … we’ll find another way.”
“But that’s the thing—I don’t want to stay like this forever.”
As she trails off, back indoors, back down the first few hallways, and as you follow shortly behind her, she humors you some. “I didn’t always used to be like this. Just … just happened recently. I just … I just wish I wasn’t this helpless.”
“I just wish I wasn’t this weak.”
You know that feeling. You’re terribly familiar with it.
Feeling helpless. Feeling hopeless. Feeling weak. The world doesn’t stop for anyone or anything. It doesn’t stop for unpaid debt. It doesn’t stop for murdered parents. And it certainly doesn’t stop either for the traumatized children of syndicate leaders.
So you do the sensible thing and place your hand on the small of her back, rubbing it in arcs, before you whisper to the wind. “One step at a time, ok? Take it easy. I’ll … I’ll help you.”
You tell yourself this is part of the plan. You want to help get her out of the house so you can kidnap her, take her somewhere more isolated, and shoot her there.
Instead, you’re doing anything but that.
Because you have to deal with with two things.
First, the goons. They’re everywhere.
When you start visiting Jaehwi’s daughter earlier than four in the afternoon, you see for the first time what happens in the first half of her days.
The different thugs and lowlifes under the employ of her father visit her for some reason. They greet her, make small talk with her, ask her for ‘her blessing’ before they go around and do god-knows-what. Nothing untoward. Nothing slimy. They treat her more like an idol to be worshipped than a dainty daughter they needs to be taken care of. They tell her about their exploits, about their ventures, hoping she would support them with a few kind words. But she isn’t much for words. She just nods and thanks them for stopping by.
You worry some of them would recognize you—because oh boy, do you recognize a good amount of them. Like Eyepatch, who came to her bragging about the new businesses he contracted into the Clan’s protection scheme—you’re pretty sure you’re the reason he’s only got one eye now. Or Mohawk, who showed her the brand new watch he bought with the money he made through Clan work—you could have sworn that was a fake; you broke the real one two months ago when you broke his wrist too.
Instead of worrying, you try not to think too deeply into it and let them pass.
Second, her trauma. Or whatever this is that she’s experiencing.
You think it might be some adverse reaction to disobeying her dad’s command to stay at home. But when you hear Areum actively supporting and encouraging you to help her, you begin to wonder if it’s something else.
You start by getting her used to standing by the open door. That seems easy enough to do. But even then, she’s already clinging to the hem of your track pants every time like she’d seen a ghost.
Once she’s pinching your clothes a little less, you accompany her in taking her first few steps outside. Just on the sidewalk. She’s trembling like she’s about to collapse, but you stay by her side the entire time, reassuring her, letting her know you were right there. If she could clear Woodland Mansions by herself, surely standing on the sidewalk was no challenge for her.
Then she’s able to cross the street. Then she’s able to head down to the other end of the road. Then she’s able to head towards the bus station, and down into the subway.
One step at a time, you managed to help her conquer her fear. And she insists she is only able to do so because you held her hand the entire time. You don’t even notice you were doing that, but hey—if it helps, then it helps.
Nothing more to it than that.
Come the day you both agreed on to go to the mall together, you arrive at the estate on time this time around. But the gorilla at the gate stops you once again.
“Really? How many times are we going to do this?” you ask, stuffing your hands into your pockets. “Just let me in. I have a d—I have somewhere to be with her.”
He raises a brow at your change in tone. “Like always—I.D.. No I.D.? No entry.”
“You’re impossible.”
Half hoping Areum would show up again, you give it a few minutes. Sure enough, a head pokes out of the door to greet you.
But it isn’t Areum’s.
“H-Hi …” she meekly greets, taking one shy step after the other as she meets you outside the gate. “Sorry, I was … already waiting for you here. Do I look ok? For the mall?”
Your eyes don’t even hesitate to look her up and down. She’s wearing a lovely little frilly dress with ruffles that flowed downwards to her knees and a trench coat over it to keep her warm. You look away to avoid the eagerness in her eyes as you nod. “It looks fine. Yeah. Good enough.”
She pouts and rubs her nape. “Maybe I overdressed—.”
“No. You um, you look great. You really do,” you push out of your lips, feeling the heat rising from your chest. It didn’t help that the gorilla was eyeing you very carefully. “Although I think you should put a disguise on. Or something.”
“A disguise?” she asks, covering her lower face with one hand. “Who am I hiding from? My father?”
“No, it’s just … do you even follow the news? Your face was everywhere just two weeks ago. Even if you aren’t the talk of the town anymore, someone’s bound to recognize you,” you lie to her. You know damn well why you’re telling her to put on a ‘disguise’.
You don’t want anyone else to fawn over how beautiful she looks right now.
Pursing her lips, she looks like she wants to refute you, but caves to your request anyway. She asks Areum to give her a face mask and a cap to wear. “How about now? Is this better?”
It’s not. It’s worse. Way worse. For you, at least.
Because now that half her face was covered, all you can focus on are her eyes, on how soft and elegant they are—like a cat’s. A cat who knows how to crush your ribs and squeeze the air from your lungs with just one look. With every look. Now, they’re all you can see when you look at her, and it’s getting harder to think of anything but her damn eyes.
“Um, so …?”
It was the gorilla who answered on your behalf with a chuckle. “You look beautiful, young lady. Don’t let this dumbass tell you otherwise.”
You roll your eyes and take her hand. “Let’s go.”
To be clear, this is not a date. You’re just taking the syndicate leader’s daughter to the mall to buy gaming gear. That’s it. That’s all it has to be.
To whom you needed to clarify that with, you aren’t so sure. But it’s good to keep in mind as the day goes on.
She’s never taken the train, so you teach her everything she needs to know. You get her a card and tell her to keep it for future use. You show her how to use it, how to squeeze into a packed train, how to know when it’s your stop.
But you get the idea she’s not really paying attention because her eyes are glued on you the entire time.
You do your best to keep her from bumping into the other passengers, positioning her next to the doors, but as the train continues to fill, you’re left with no choice but to encroach on her personal space.
One arm above her head, your face hovering above hers, you wince every time some idiot bumps into your back, making you press up closer to her. But she doesn’t look away.
All she looks at is you.
When you reach your stop, you show her the directions to get to the mall from here. You hope she was at least paying attention this time, so she could get here by herself in the future. But her eyes would not meet anyone’s. She keeps her head down, hand tightly squeezing yours, as the two of you walked down the bustling city streets to get to the mall.
Once you’re there, she lightens up a little bit.
Her doe eyes widen in amusement as she’s exposed to the different sights within a mall: the different stores, the scattered stalls, the occasional advertiser, the free samples, the nonstop escalators, the oddly placed water fountain, the annoying kids—all of it. She takes it all in with a sense of wanderlust.
And you can’t help but smile.
You take her to the gaming store you used to frequent years ago. You hardly recognize the staff, so a discount was out of the question, but you do find what you promised to buy her. You’re set to pay for the black Logitech mouse and matching black earphones with your own money—the money you scrounged up after yesterday’s marks. But she’s holding this pink Hello Kitty designed mouse close to her chest, and then she’s looking at you with those eyes, and before you knew it, you’re returning what you had picked out and instead slid her pink mouse and pink earphones towards the cashier. You are not safe from a mechanical keyboard either, and when you try to reason with her saying her laptop already has a keyboard, her eyes droop just the slightest bit and it was all over for you once again.
You curse underneath your breath, but she’s next to you, holding your arm as she watches her new gear get bagged. And for some reason, seeing all that was more than enough to make it up to you.
She wasn’t sure what else she wanted to buy because she wasn’t sure what else existed in the mall. So you take her around.
She has no reason to be shoulder-to-shoulder next to you. She has no reason to lean into you whenever she was avoiding passers-by. She has no reason to still be holding your hand either since you had no intent of leaving her behind. But you let her. You let it happen. You both continue to play the role of the soon-to-be-married couple.
Because damn it, it was starting to feel … nice.
If being a couple meant you could get away with hearing her whimper and throw a tantrum whenever she loses against you at the arcade, if it meant getting an excuse to wipe the crepe filling from the corner of her lips, if it meant allowing you to press your cheek against hers at the photobooth, or sitting her on your lap when all the benches are full, or even fixing her hair when it gets messy underneath her cap, then damn it—who the hell wouldn’t cash in on this experience?
The least you can do with your predicament is enjoy it.
Once her stomach is filled, and her legs are tired, and you’re carrying more paper bags than either of you would have expected, she gives you a certain smile with her eyes that signals that she’s satisfied now, and that she’s ready to go home.
“Thank goodness we’re done. I don’t know how much I can still carry,” you tease, lifting up one hand, showing how each finger was connected to a separate bag. “You went wild with my money, didn’t you? Shopping always feels better when you’re not the one paying for it.”
She chuckles and leans into you, nuzzling her head. “You’re always going to be paying for me when I go shopping.”
“There’s going to be a next time?” you genuinely ask. A part of you dreads it, but a greater part of you is somehow looking forward to it.
“Of course. When we get married, we’re doing this every week.”
“Every week?” you repeat, letting out an exaggerated sigh. “I’m filing for a divorce before our first anniversary then.”
She leans in to punch you, but her attention is caught by something else.
It’s about half an hour to closing time, and as you both circle around the atrium to get to your exit, you notice some sort of event ongoing.
The circular central area has been converted into a makeshift dance floor. Scattered around it, couples are locked in a slow dance, swaying to the beat of the songs that the mall speakers were playing.
You want to say something funny about their masquerade theme, but her eyes are heavily trained on the dancing couples that glided across the improvised dance floor. She watches as they pull apart, come together, twirl around, and bow before one another—all while remaining connected the entire time.
When she returns to you, her eyes fall between her feet. So you stop in your tracks.
“Let me guess—you want to dance?”
“I … I was just …”
You smile and lift her chin up. “You want to dance, don’t you? Go, I’ll hold our things.”
But she pouts and shakes her head. “I can’t dance alone. Dancing like that is for two people.”
You’re confident you can list the different ways someone could dance alone, many of which would probably end up with you sounding stupid. But as she holds your hands and tugs you towards the music and dancing, you take a deep breath and reluctantly nod.
“Ok, I guess we can dance for a song or two.”
You grew up with two left feet. Dancing was the last item on your bucket list of things to learn when growing up. You imagine she’s got no experience with it either.
But damn, does she make it feel easy.
She puts on her face mask again to try and keep to the theme. You know it’s probably a bad idea, but you pull out the crow mask you always keep tucked away behind you and put it on. She stares at you and can’t help but laugh. “You look stupid. Where were you hiding that?”
“I … let’s just say I always want to be ready to join a masquerade ball.”
Her hands move when yours can’t. They slide up your elbows, towards your shoulders, and find purchase around your nape. Clinging to you, she smiles with her eyes and pulls you closer. Meanwhile, your hands are awkwardly resting by her hips, bags swaying with every motion, fingers afraid to dig too deep into her skin.
And you dance. The two of you, in your own little spot on the dance floor, swaying each other to the rhythm of the songs. It isn’t complicated. It isn’t intense. You both just allow yourselves to feel the rhythm against your combined bodies, and hold each other as you dance.
“I had fun today,” she mutters through her mask, looking into your eyes. You can almost see the crow mask looking back at you through the reflection on her irises. “I … I always seem to have fun when I’m with you.”
“And here I thought I was the only one enjoying this arranged marriage situation of ours,” you fire back, and it earns a soft giggle from her.
“You know, it made me … it made me think,” she continues with a whisper, pulling you even closer, so that now, the tip of your crow mask was dancing around her own protected nose. “If we met under different … circumstances, would we … would we still be like this?”
Your fingers twitch against her waist. “What do you mean? Would we still be getting married?”
“Would we have really fallen in love?”
You never considered this—whatever you two were doing, whatever you two had—as love.
In fact, you have never thought about love for the past eight years. You thought every last notion of such a feeling left you the moment your parents died. Since then, nothing’s really been the same anyway. And between chasing after goons with bullets or avoiding being hunted yourself, there was never really a pause—a space—where you can breathe and think about anything other than surviving, other than revenge.
But right now, confronted by such a question, you allow yourself the space to think about it.
“I … don’t know. If I didn’t sign up to be your husband, I don’t think I would have ever done … any of this—any of what we did—with someone else. I don’t think I’d make a good partner, really. If … if only you knew …”
She reaches towards your face with one hand and plucks your mask off you, holding it by the tip of its nose. “Then show me the real you. Not the you that’s trying to just … make me happy with our situation. I want to see who you really are, and … I want to see if I can fall in love with that. Please?”
You bite your tongue and try to control your breathing. Your physique isn’t this terrible—you’re not supposed be left sweating and out of breath by just a few circles around a dance floor. But somehow, you are. You’re utterly weakened by her words, and you’re absolutely ensnared by her eyes.
Just like how she pried your mask off of you, you dig your fingers between the strings of her face mask and pull it off her too. “Then I want to see the real you too. The you you want to become outside of your dad’s shadow. The you that’s beyond the Devil Cat Clan. The you that’s been there all along, waiting to come out.”
And just like that, she blushes like a flower learning to blossom for the first time, reddening like a tomato in a heartbeat.
There are two pistols hidden inside the length of your pants, each with about sixteen bullets loaded in. You have your hwando strappedagainst your chest, underneath your jacket, waiting to be unsheathed. And you have two separate garrotes hidden inside the heels of your shoes.
But despite all that, you don’t even think about killing her—or her father—for even a second. No. All you can think about is how you can keep sharing moments like this with her.
Because god damnit—it feels great.
It feels unreal.
==
Yeah, it’s safe to say the plan has fucking changed right about now.
You’re on the third week towards your upcoming marriage with Jiwon and you have made zero progress on your little revenge plan. If you aren’t going to do anything soon, you might find yourself married instead to the very organization you swore to burn to the ground.
But somehow, that idea doesn’t bother you anymore.
Your days with Jiwon begin to change. Since your vow to each other that night at the mall, your lives start to bleed into one another.
Jiwon asks you about the your track suit get up, your crow mask, and the weapons you always bring around with you. You just tell her it’s for safety purposes, but she’s not buying it. She begs you to stop bringing them around with you. And if she hadn’t asked you of it, you never would have. So you stopped packing them—for her sake. But the track suit agenda persisted.
Jiwon introduces you to her garden. This is the first time she formally does so. She tells you each of their names, recalls which years she started taking care of them, how much to water each of them, and what songs she likes singing to them on the daily. You tell her you want to hear one of her songs, and at first, she’s rather meek about. But when she realizes you spent five hours of your day just hearing her yap adorably about her beloved plants, she believes a song wouldn’t hurt—and oh boy, does she have such an angelic voice. You’re almost envious of the plants for hearing her sing every day.
Jiwon requests you to tell her about your life outside of her, about what you do for a living, about what you do for fun. You can’t exactly tell her you kill people for money. Instead, you tell her about the distant past. About how you used to study finance in college. About the sleepovers and all-nighters you used to pull with friends. About the times you would just jog early in the morning to help clear your head. And even about the times you crushed on certain girls around campus. And she listened. Jiwon listened to every last story of yours like they’re tales about another world. For you, they very well might have been given how long ago they were now, but you found some comfort in sharing your past with her.
You eat dinners together now. You spend hours at night laying next to her in bed talking about the silliest things. You greet her ‘good morning’ and ‘good night’ each day. You get her little gifts and trinkets whenever you can. You even count the time left until you have to go, and the time remaining until you can see her again.
Is this what it means to be really dating? You’re not quite sure. But the things that are bouncing around in your head, making your chest feel all sorts of different things—they feel very real to you.
“Im Kyung-Mi—forty-six, married, one of Jaehwi’s hoobae’s from his short time in university, now handles several laundering fronts for the Clan.”
“Bo Hana—twenty-nine, unmarried, operates phishing scams in six different online chatrooms, blackmails and extorts victims daily.”
“Mun Youngjae—thirty-one, married, moved from insurance fraud to loansharking, opened up a new lending business in preparation for his firstborn due in four months.”
But you let them all slide. You let those marks go for today like you have been doing for the past few days—much to Yujin’s surprise and dismay.
Why? Simply because you didn’t want to be late for your time with Jiwon.
Promising Jiwon not to bring guns around anymore changed the way you saw daily life again. For once, you don’t have to be always on your guard. For once, you don’t have to be in hiding. For once, you’re not living day to day between one chase to another. You can actually look forward to things. You can actually plan things farther than just a day at a time.
You can actually live.
So as you hand the paper bills towards the florist who helped assemble a lovely and fragrant bouquet for you, purchasing flowers for the very first time, you believe this was a better way to spend your money—better than a new pistol or a shiny new blade.
You hold the bouquet close to your chest with a smile. You feel stupid. You guess you look stupid. But right now, it hardly matters.
Because you are about to go on your very first date with Jiwon.
The two of you felt that it was only right that you both should properly have a date before getting married. So, you ended up scheduling a date today. As you walked towards the entrance of the estate with the flowers in hand, you briefly think about your impending deadline. Your impending need to resolve the shit you have in the background. But once the thought passes, you file it away and try not to think about it for now.
Everything’s going well. Why ruin that?
Before you can even greet the gorilla, and before he can even ask for your I.D. again, Jiwon’s head pokes out of the door and she greets you with the widest smile. “You’re here! You’re early.”
“And you’re already dressed,” you note, immediately noticing the black mini-dress she has on. It showcases her bare shoulders, her slender legs, and her collarbone draped with a small silver necklace. “You look amazing.”
The gorilla scoffed and turned away. “Kids these days. Just go on your bloody date already.”
Jiwon blushes and peeks inside. “Could you wait for a moment? I have company right now, but I’ll be ready to go in a few.”
“Not at all. Take your time,” you say as you follow her indoors.
She rushes away from you, and you wonder why she’s in a hurry. It’s only when you arrive at the courtyard and you see another beautiful young lady exiting Jiwon’s home that you realize what she meant.
This girl didn’t resemble Jiwon at all: jet-black hair, oval face, sharper eyes, flirty smirk, cropped top, concerningly short skirt.
Yeah, she was nothing like Jiwon.
This new girl approaches you with a grin that says she already knows what is going on. She eyes the flowers, then you, then chuckles behind a raised hand. “So you’re the man unnie’s getting married to.”
Unnie? Is this her sister?
“Yeah. Well, I guess this is me,” you raise, extending both hands to the sides. “It’s not much, but I guess it works.”
“It really does. For her,” she teases, smirking wider. “You’re all she ever talks about these days, you know? I had to come here and see for myself what you were all about. I think I can see where she’s coming from.”
You park that thought as you get all flustered holding your flowers for Jiwon. “I …”
The girl chuckles one final time before winking at you. “Take care of her, oppa. Don’t break her heart. She’s the only sister I have, so … make her happy.”
“You don’t have to tell me twice,” you proudly announce, lifting your chin. Finally, you regain some of your confidence back.
As the girl disappears into the hallways behind you, you trudge up to Jiwon to ask what that was about.
You catch her in the middle of touching up her lipstick. She wears lipstick now, apparently. When she sees you, she immediately closes her hand mirror and hides both behind her back. “I-I … I told you to wait for me.”
You crinkle your nose, and doing so almost makes you want to die. “You look pretty enough as you are. Who was that, by the way?”
“That’s Hyunseo. She’s my half-sister. She’s … the closest sibling I have among many others,” she explains, putting her makeup all into one bag before walking towards you. “And those?”
You extend your hand forward. “These are for you. It’s normal to give girls flowers on dates, right? I uh, I wasn’t sure if this was overboard.”
She leans into you to smell the flowers, letting out a blissful exhale. “Their lovely. Thank you. I’ll have Areum-unnie place them in a nice vase for me.”
Finally, you pop the question. “So um, are you … are you ready? For our first date?”
Jiwon bites her plump and freshly reddened lips and nods. “Yeah … yeah I’m ready.”
So you extend an arm out towards her, and she takes it, and you’re both giggling like teenagers over how silly you two are at your age over a simple stupid date.
The date was anything but—simple, maybe; stupid, not at all.
Going to the mall again felt derivative, and Jiwon isn’t sure if she can handle going to a crowded place again this soon. So you had the brilliant idea to take here somewhere you have always wanted to take a date to.
A cafe.
It had an interesting name. An alliteration of sorts. But what caught your eye was the ambience.
As the bell chimed when you open the door, you’re greeted by the barista at the cashier. You hold Jiwon’s hand as you both approached him and start to order.
“New couple?” he asks, trying to make small talk as he keys in things on the monitor.
Neither you nor Jiwon can respond right away, refusing to look at each other or the barista. The man chuckles and shakes his head. “Sorry if I got that wrong. I just see a lot of couples come by around this time of the day. Although … someone as cute as you, miss, would surely have no trouble finding a date around town—.”
Your hands moves before you can even think. You wrap an arm around Jiwon’s slender waist and pull her closer to you. “She’s mine. She’s my girlfriend. We’re getting married next week.”
You don’t know if the blush is from your cheeks or hers, but Jiwon leans into you and rests the back of her head against your collarbone. “Yeah … he’s my boyfriend. We’re on a date … n-not our first though! We’ve dated many times before um, before now. For sure …”
The barista swaps between looking touched to looking confused. “Ok miss … I was just teasing.”
A female barista elbows him as if to tell him off. “Don’t tease the customers like that! Sorry about him, he can get a little carried away sometimes. Drinks are on me.”
“For real?” you ask, and before the male barista can protest, the female one takes control of the situation with a nod. “Yes sir, please enjoy your stay!”
With that, you take your free drinks and sit yourselves towards the back. Jiwon looks like she wants to sit next to you instead of across from you, so you indulge her and drag your heavy chair towards her side of the table.
“Ahh~ Free drinks taste better than paid ones,” she hums between sips, knees bumping together.
“You never had to pay for any of your drinks before, what are you talking about?” you retort, taking a long sip of your iced americano.
You banter a bit before talking about other things. About her Minecraft world. About her sister. About your refusal to wear anything but tracksuits. And about makeup brands.
And it’s perfect. This is perfect. She’s perfect.
You once dreamed of something like this. You don’t remember the exact details, but the feelings are warmer. The sensation is cozier. And the girl across you is more beautiful than you ever imagined—even when she has coffee shooting out of her nostrils after you make her laugh.
She’s unreal.
And then the topic goes to marriage. Your marriage. Next weekend.
The atmosphere surrounding you both tightens to a standstill. No one wants to make the first move towards that discussion. But somehow, one of you needs to speak up.
“So it’s next week,” you raise, taking one for the team as you set your cup back onto the ring it formed on the table. “How do you feel about it?”
She hesitates for a moment, pondering her words, but when she finds the right thing to tell you, it comes out without hesitation. “I still don’t like our arrangement, but … I can still like you, right?”
Damn she is really knocking you out of the park with every little thing she says. “That … I don’t think that’s a problem at all.”
She smiles, and so do you. But it fades away the moment she sees something behind you. “Oh no … oh no that’s …”
You turn around and see a flock of six men in suits and shades entering one after the other into the cafe. They don’t give the bell a break, ringing it continuously. They don’t stop for the greetings of the baristas either. Instead, they head right for you and Jiwon.
Once they surround you like a wall, they bow to their waists. One of them speaks up and says, “Lady Jiwon, the Master has requested your presence. He wants you and your fiancé to meet him right now. He’s already at the restaurant.”
You can visibly see Jiwon’s muscles tighten and lock in place upon hearing this. “My … my father? Why now of all times? I-I’m in the middle of—.”
“It’s his request, my lady. We’re just the messengers,” he explains as if in apology. “Please don’t delay this any father. You know how Master Jaehwi can get when he’s … kept waiting. We already have a car prepared for you.”
She glances towards the henchmen, then to you, then to her unfinished drink. Standing up carefully, she nods and holds out a hand shyly towards you. “Then I don’t have a choice … Please, lead the way.”
You take her hand and walk with her towards the parking lot, where a sleek black Mercedes-Benz awaits you.
The ride to the restaurant is a short one, but the silence throughout it made it feel like forever. Jiwon says nothing to you—in explanation, in apology, in request—almost like she’s already assented to the situation. You recall how docile she was previously with Areum and the other staff. You can only imagine how pious she is towards her father.
You’re brought to a large Chinese restaurant. The signboard, carpets, and staff uniforms were all a blinding shade of red. You were never one for Chinese cuisine, but you can tell this restaurant was different—more refined, more elite, more extravagant.
You are proven right almost immediately when you are lead towards a private room on the second floor, where an all-too-familiar figure was seated at the opposite end of the round table surrounded with dishes and meals.
Kim Jaehwi.
Your hand clenches so hard around Jiwon’s hand that she winces from the pain. But you can’t help yourself. You curse your better senses for coming here without any weapons on you. Had you known you would have been in the same room with Jaehwi this afternoon, you would have ditched the pleasantries and snuck at least a small knife in with you.
He’s there. He’s just over there. And you haven’t got a single way to kill him.
So you choose to instead bow to him submissively, feeling your stomach curdle at the thought of showing deference to this wretch. Jiwon does the same but lower than yours. Once you both stand upright once more and are allowed to take a seat, you stiffly sit on the edge of your chair and keep your back straight the entire time.
Jaehwi sips from his tea cup and sighs. “So. Jiwon, this is the man you’ve chosen to marry?”
His voice is coarse. His words are grating and repulsive like a fork scratching against a chalkboard in your head. His gaze is the worst. Those yellowing eyes scan your figure as if to evaluate you, as if to judge you, and you can’t help but feel sick at the thought of allowing this man to appraise you like another business opportunity. “He seems decent. Good-looking. Well-off? That I do not understand. Why marry someone without a notable background? Is it for love? You’re not making it any easier for yourself if you don’t start thinking about what’s best for you and your future.”
Jiwon makes no attempt to tell her father otherwise.
Sighing, he uses his chopsticks to pluck up a pair of chicken feet, slurping on it like you two weren’t there. Jiwon doesn’t motion to get anything, so you hold yourself back from eating as well. Besides, you lost your appetite the moment you saw his pathetic face.
“The marriage is next week, so I want to make sure everything is in order. Including your readiness,” Jaehwi raises, gesturing to Jiwon with his chopsticks. “Are you sure about this? I do not want to deal with the aftermath of your indecision on the day of your marriage.”
He doesn’t sound like a father ensuring his daughter wouldn’t be making a mistake. He sounds more like a syndicate leader gauging whether his biological investment has finally matured—has finally been secured.
You turn to Jiwon, only able to offer your hand in support. You aren’t completely sure yourself either—especially not after seeing this bastard’s face again. But for now, an answer to placate him will do.
But Jiwon doesn’t say a thing even in the face of such a life-changing decision.
Her father shrugs once more and continues stuffing his bowl of fried rice with more steamed fish. “If you’re not going to say anything to me, then at least enjoy the food. And the wine. Help me finish it, you two. It was very expensive.”
The food is fresh and well-cooked. It’s incredibly rich and flavorful—your opinion of Chinese cuisine has changed. But the wine is too strong for your taste. Just one sip and you know you’re going to regret drinking more than one glass of this. Unfortunately, you’re made to help finish the whole bottle along with Jiwon, who already reddens at the face with just a few sips.
By the time your dinner with Jaehwi is over, you are one dead body, one decent plan, and one responsive fiancée short. As much as you curl your fingers into the arms of your chair at the sight of Kim Jaehwi fleeing your presence still alive after weeks, months, and years of striving to get to him, the only one you can think of right now is the girl next to you.
Once the door closes behind you two, Jiwon lets out an audible gasp like she’s been holding her breath like she’s held her tongue against him this entire time. “Thank god he’s gone … I don’t think I can drink wine anymore either …”
You lean to rest your forehead against hers in an act of comfort. You’re pretty buzzed yourself, so you’re not sure why you thought physical intimacy like this is a good idea. But you roll with it. “Are you ok? You weren’t saying anything the entire time. I was worried.”
Jiwon nods, rubbing her temple against yours. “That’s just … that’s just how I am with my father. I can’t say anything against him … to him … He just does what he wants to anyway.”
“Don’t think about him” you say. Whether thats to Jiwon or to yourself, you’re not entirely sure. “Let’s get you back home. You look redder than I’ve ever seen you before.”
She turns to you and giggles in an uncharacteristic manner. You chalk it up to the alcohol in your systems. “Really~? I feel … light. But also … numb? Is that a thing?”
She flicks your nose and chuckles again. “Are you going to carry me? I don’t think I can walk like this.”
As if to prove her point, Jiwon stands up and immediately loses her balance, swaying unsteadily as her hands come flying around her. You catch her by the waist and ground her before lifting her into your arms and carrying her.
She gasps and clings to your neck as you bring her down the stairs towards the car that’s been waiting for you both.
When you’re both dropped off at the estate, it’s already well past midnight. Jiwon’s humming different melodies to herself as she’s in your arms once again. It’s only when you lay her down in her bed that she calms down from her alcoholic high and turns to face you with more sincerity on her face.
Tapping the free space on the bed, she invites you to join her. You waste no time tucking yourself into bed with her again. Like you always do.
She stares up at the ceiling, and so do you. You think you might stay like this for a while until both of you fall asleep. But it’s when Jiwon asks you a question that you realize she’s not in the mood for sleep just yet.
“Can I ask you something? And I want you to be honest with me,” she starts, still talking to the ceiling. “Why are you still doing this? Why are you still … trying to get married to me?”
You shrug. “The food here’s pretty good. I get free car rides once in a while. Get to relax some and fool around. But most of all? I get to see a pretty woman each time I visit. I think that’s the real kicker to this arrangement, honestly.”
She rolls her eyes. You can tell from your peripheral. “You always call it that. An arrangement. Our predicament. Our situation. Is this all it will ever be to you?”
You never really thought of it deeper than that before.
What were you two?
Outside the upcoming marriage. Outside the awkward beginning. In between the stolen moments here and the genuine instances there. What exactly were you and Jiwon?
You don’t know at this point. You don’t fucking know at all.
“I could ask you the same thing. Why are you still tolerating me—?”
“I’m not tolerating you. I never was,” she replies sharply, turning to face you now on her side. “You’re … you’re not what I expected.”
“What exactly were you expecting from someone who’s supposed to be your future husband?”
“I … I don’t know. Someone weird? Desperate? Just … not this. Not this at all.”
You smirk, nodding at her. “I’ll take that as a compliment then. But you’re asking all the questions—let me ask you some too.”
“Sure. What do you want to know?”
“Why did you choose me?”
The question catches her off-guard as you see her staring past you in thought. “Why did you choose me that day? Your dad, Jaehwi—he had a point earlier. Why me? You could have picked someone richer or more influential to help you run this syndicate better. You could have chosen someone smarter or more capable than me to support you in the future and give you a stable life. But me? I’m … I’m just a no one. I’ve got nothing going for myself or to my name. All I can give you … all I can do for you … is this.”
You lift your hand in an arc across the air. With just that motion, you point at all the things that have been added to Jiwon’s room over the weeks that you’ve been together.
But Jiwon shakes her head in defiance to your self-deprecation. “Do you remember what I told you the last time you asked me that?”
“Sort of. Something about not being threatening enough. Something about feeling safe,” you recount, hoping it was right.
Smiling, she wiggled her way towards you and pressed her face into your chest. She waits for you to wrap an arm around her, and when you finally do, she whispers, “I chose you because you had this look in your eyes. Like you were just as lost and … broken … as I was. And it just … it just sort of clicked in my head.”
Jiwon looks up at you and asks, “Tell me … do you think broken people can ever be fixed again? Do you think … do you think we can still feel complete?”
You take a long and deep breath, let the air fill your lungs, and watch as your chest rises and falls with the exhale, before attempting to even answer that question.
“I … I used to think some of us are broken beyond repair. Some things … some people … they ruin us. Immensely. Like we’re distorted beyond recognition. Like we’re … warped beyond the point of return. And it’s not our fault. Life’s cruel like that. But lately? Lately I’ve been thinking that maybe … just maybe … we only believe we’re broken beyond repair because we can’t see the whole picture. Something or someone might walk into our lives and … remind us of who we once were. What we can still be.”
You don’t notice you’re embracing her tighter now. You can feel her struggling to catch her breath beneath you, so you loosen up a bit. But even then, she chases after your touch and nuzzles against your chest. “That was beautiful. I’ve never heard you say something almost … poetic like that.”
You chuckle, pushing away the stray strands of her hair. “Just speaking what comes to mind. Just speaking my truth.”
After sharing a few more moments together like this, Jiwon pulls away and moves towards the edge of the bed, sitting up. This scares you for a moment, and it occurs to you that you don’t like the feeling of seeing her leave like that. Instead, she takes several deep breaths before finally doing what she meant to do.
She saunters over towards the foot of her bed, kneels down, and withdraws something deep underneath the bedframe. Once she pulls out what appears to be a small wooden box, she trembles as she walks over to your side.
You sit up and join her, placing a hand on her thigh. “I … I wasn’t always like this. The me you see right now? It’s … it’s broken. It’s missing. Not that I’m lying to you or anything, but … I’ve just felt incomplete since … since my mother died.”
The weight of her words presses against your chest. “Your mom? You never talked about her.”
She nods, acknowledging it, but not without the first few tears escaping from her eyes as she recalls what she must have been keeping locked up for so long now. “My mother … my eomma, she … she was the person I loved most in the world. She used to live with me here, you know? We did everything together. She taught me everything I know—how to take care of plants, how to sing, how to … how to carry myself in front of my father. It was just … me and her. Me and her against the world. That was until … until she died.”
Jiwon opens the box on her lap and takes out a necklace that sat on top of the other trinkets inside. She holds it up towards her collarbone, and you see how it forms a matching set with the necklace still wrapped around her neck.
“This was my mother’s … We wore it together whenever w-we went out,” she pushed out between sobs. “You … You reminded me of her. She would always be the one guiding me, showing me around, taking me places … It wasn’t too often, a-and I never really paid attention, but … to me, those moments were what I treasured the most.”
Then she hunches forward and lets out a sharp whine as she takes out the remaining contents of the box. They’re pictures—pictures of a young Jiwon with her mother. Some were in full color while others still had that nostalgic paint of aged film. “These … these are all that I have left of her because … because … she died. Just … just last month.”
You feel a heavy chill drag across your spine as you stare at the woman in her photos.
“They said she was killed on the way home from the airport b-by … by an unknown attacker.”
You think back to the three bullets. The skidding car. The blood on the ground.
“She was gone for months … abroad … and I was so excited to see her come back a-a-and tell me about her trip, but … but …”
Then you think back to your final mark as they exited the vehicle, crawling, pleading, begging for mercy.
“Now … she’s dead … And I’ll never get to talk to her again …”
Like a moment frozen in time, you remember now what that woman said to you as you pressed your blade into her neck.
“Please … mer … -cy … I have a daughter … a child … let me see her again first …”
And you remember what you told her in reply.
“I had parents once too. And your godforsaken clan never gave me the chance to save them. So why should I spare you?”
Before she could even sob, your blade had already done its work.
How cruel is the world?
How cruel is fate to have made your path intertwine with Jiwon only to end up with this scathing realization? You couldn’t even think about the marriage. You couldn’t even think about comforting her in your arms. Because all you could think about right now was how wrong you had been.
How wrong you have been this entire time.
For the past eight years, you’ve been bitterly chasing after your revenge. You believed that each kill, each murder, each slaughter, was another step closer to avenge your dead parents. Did it never occur to you that these people had hopes and dreams too? That these people had families too? That these people might have also been like you—victims of the system, other cogs affixed into this bloody, relentless machine?
Did it ever occur to you that, with each life you took, you were possibly ruining another’s?
And what did you hope to gain after each kill? What did you hope to achieve after murdering every last member of the Devil Cat Clan—even Kim Jaehwi himself? Would that have made you happy?
The emptiness inside you says otherwise.
Jiwon collapses into the crook of your neck, sobbing into your shoulder, but you remove herself from you and gently push her away. She stops for a moment and glances at you. “Wh-what …?”
You shouldn’t. You know you goddamn shouldn’t. But you go against your better senses and cave towards your conscience that’s screaming blasphemies into your mind.
You should have kept quiet. You should have just let the moment pass. But you feel sick to your very core, and you can’t in good faith continue on with this—whatever this is—with Jiwon any further.
Not without telling her the truth.
“You asked about the guns … and the blade … and the weapons,” you start, staring between your feet, unable to look her in the eye anymore. “You asked me what I did outside of you … what I did in my free time … what I did for work. Jiwon, I-I … I’m a vigilante. I put justice into my own hands because the system has failed me before. I kill people for money, Jiwon … I-I-I kill people because I want my revenge. On your father. On your clan. Because they killed my parents eight years ago and left me broken like this …”
You pinch the bridge of your nose and begin to weep. “She was … just another mark to me. I didn’t care—I never cared for them. I just … wanted them gone. Wanted them all gone. Jiwon, I … I’m … I’m sorry. I’m the one who killed your mother that day.”
Silence. Nothing but silence.
Then it comes one at a time.
First came the slamming of knees to the ground. Then the shattering of a wooden box against the wall. Then hair being tugged accompanied by screams and wails of pain. Then, you hear crying. Endless, volatile, heavy crying. As Kim Jiwon comes completely undone on the floor.
You look away. But you can’t. You force yourself to look at her—at the mess you made.
At the life you ruined.
“Get … get out …”
You hold your breath and reach a hand towards her. “Jiwon, I—.”
“I said … get … OUT! GET OUT OF HERE!”
Like a ghost dragged out from your dead carcass, you float past her and through her door without a heft of weight to you. Behind you, her door slams shut as her wailing and shrieking continue to echo into the night.
Like Jiwon, you fall to your knees, slam your forehead against the floor, and continue bashing your head against the cold hard surface.
Over, and over, and over again. Not until the darkness takes you.
Not until the crying stops bleeding into your ears. Not until you have punished yourself enough.
At some point in the night, you are roused from your sleep. Whether you passed out from the fatigue or the pain, you find yourself stirred awake now and into a sit.
It was Jiwon.
You rub your eyes and blink rapidly in surprise and confusion. “Look … please, just let me—.”
She interrupts you by pushing a glass of water towards your lips. “Drink. We just had alcohol in our systems … that’s all. Nothing … nothing happened, ok? Just forget it.”
Not wanting to argue, you drink the water slowly down to the very last drop. You notice Jiwon has already drunken hers—her glass settled off to the side. As you finish your drink, you can’t help but feel an odd sense of warmth engulfing you, swallowing you, smothering you.
It’s only then that Jiwon gives you a defeated smile.
“It’s fast acting isn’t it—the poison?” she states calmly, body swaying from side to side like she’s still intoxicated. “Who knew that the kiss of death could feel this … warm?”
You start to choke and gag on instinct, feeling your veins start to swell and your lungs start to burn. “What … what did you do to me? What did you put in our drinks?”
But Jiwon shakes her head, not even bothering to wipe the tears from her eyes anymore. “We’re both broken … You thought we could still be fixed … You thought we could fix each other, but … all we did was break one another all the more … My family hurt yours, so you hurt mine … Let’s end this cycle of hatred right here.”
She reaches forward to caress your face one final time, and all you can see as your vision grew hazy is her scared and tired eyes looking back up at you. “Thank you for trying … but it’s ok now. This is it for us, so … just let it happen. Let it take you.”
You wait a minute. Then five. Then ten. But when you expect to die, you instead grow warmer by the moment. “What … what exactly did you mix into our drinks?”
Jiwon, who is completely flustered and beginning to sweat, replies, “I-I … I found a bottle in my father’s bathroom while you were asleep. I thought … I thought it was some kind of poison. It was labelled ‘aphrodisiac’—”
Your eyebrows twitch. “Jiwon that’s … that’s not a poison … that’s …”
You don’t even get the chance to laugh at her mistake. The warmth and the pressure that’s been building up from the aphrodisiac now spread downwards and made your nether region throb with need. “That’s for arousal …”
Jiwon eyes your growing need that’s straining within your pants. She can feel that growing need inside her too—you can tell from the way her breaths grow more ragged and intermittent. “I-I … I didn’t know … God, I-I-I can’t even kill myself properly … I’m such a failure …”
But her tone spoke nothing of regret. Her eyes indicate nothing of remorse. Instead, her quivering lips, and the way her tongue dances across them as she eyes you, spoke of another sensation altogether.
Desire.
She’s on you now, climbing your laying body on all fours. You try to push her away, but you knew better than to hurt her any further. Once she’s straddling your hips, unknowingly grinding circles against your crotch, she leans forward and whispers into your ear. “Let me just make one more mistake … please …”
And just like that, you’re both a maelstrom of lust and unbridled desire.
Her hands tear through your clothes, stripping you off your last remaining ounces of dignity. She stares at the chest and abdominals you’ve been hiding underneath your stupid jacket, traces your scars with a finger, then immediately, she’s running her hands all over them.
You can’t resist her yourself either. Hands flying towards her minidress to pluck the strings off her tight figure one by one. Once she’s sliding out of it, you peel her underwear off her like you’re plucking petals from a flower. When you’re both aligned in the right way, you waste no time turning into a mess of bouncing, licking, and thrusting as you consume one another.
Neither of you have been this hungry before. Neither of you would feel sated until you had gone the whole way.
And so you see it through. All. Night. Long.
Come the morning, you find yourselves naked on Jiwon’s mattress. Somehow, at some point in the night, you both managed to make it here. Both pillows were now on the floor along with the comforter that usually came above your bodies. She’s laying on her stomach next to you, eyes struggling to stay open.
You get one last glance of her bare form—not an inch of her left uncovered—before she screams at the top of her lungs.
Screaming that you had soiled her in her sleep.
==
“Chwe Yeonseok—.”
Bang.
“Han Yongjin—.”
Bang.
“Tang Jisu—.”
Bang.
“Lee Min-ah—.”
Bang.
“Chae Woojin—.”
Bang. Bang. Bang.
As you drop the bloody insignias on the bar counter and shove it towards Yujin, you expect the payment for hitting your marks. That’s thrice your daily usual—just like the previous days this week. But when the wads of cash arrive, you simply flit through each bill with a soulless gaze before stuffing it into your pockets.
You should have been fine.
The Devil Cat Clan kicked you out of their property as soon as Jiwon cried wolf. It was a miracle they didn’t beat you to death then and there. The proof was undeniable with how both of you were naked. The aphrodisiac turned out to be useful somehow.
Jaehwi said nothing about your alleged assault of his daughter. He let you keep your head, so you used it to keep going and going and going.
You’re back at The Requiem again. You’re taking jobs left and right. Murdering without question. Killing without doubt. Earning paycheck after paycheck. No longer worried about goons on your back—at least, goons from the Devil Cat Clan. You told Yujin no more of those marks—not for now, at least. You no longer have to contemplate an arranged marriage either. You were finally free.
But something was missing. And Yujin points this out as she offers you another glass of whiskey.
“Rough week? What the hell happened this time? Shouldn’t you be happy you made an entire month’s checkout in just a few days?” she prods, polishing a glass she just rinsed. “What’s up with you? You haven’t been yourself lately.”
“When have I ever been myself since I showed up at your place, An Yujin,” you sigh after your chug your drink, smudging the back of your hand against your dried lips. “Just let me make my money in peace.”
“But what are you doing it for?”
The question comes out of the blue, and you could have sworn you heard another voice asking you that. But when your gaze returns to Yujin, who’s now bent over the counter, she continues, “What is it even all for? I took you in here eight years ago thinking you would have sorted out your life by now if you found your purpose. But what is your purpose?”
You shrug, demanding another drink. But Yujin refuses.
“Do you know why you’re the oldest hitman here?” Yujin raises, staring at the several other lowlives gathered at The Requiem alongside you two. “That’s because everyone else who’s come before you already found their shit in life. They made peace with their inner demons. They’ve moved on. So when will you?”
Her words burn your throat more than the whiskey does.
Before you can think of a reply, you hear something on the TV. “—duled this weekend. It will be held—.”
You snatch the remote from the spectacled bloke next to you and struggle to return the channel back to the news station.
It’s a segment about Jiwon. She’s still getting married this weekend. Although, right next to her now is a picture of a familiar lion-looking fellow in a tight white suit.
“You know that guy?” Yujin asks, gesturing towards Alex. “Have you bumped into him before?”
“Could say that,” you slur, feeling the alcohol get to your head. “Met him once.”
“You’re insane. You’re absolutely insane,” she lauds, shaking her head. “That’s the son of the Golden Dragon Gang’s boss. He’s larger than you think. And now, he’s going to marry the legitimate child of the Devil Cat Clan. That smells like trouble.”
You raise a brow. “Why? Won’t that mean our marks get easier to find now that they’re merged?”
But Yujin shakes her head. “The Golden Devil Gang’s a bunch of menaces. If they merge with the Devil Cat Clan, they’ll have more goons under their control to do their dirty work. Even if the Clan’s done some terrible shit in the past, they don’t resort to violence first. But the Gang does.”
The man you stole the remote from whistles. “Bummer. Feel bad for the old man—Jaehwi? Once his daughter gets married, she’ll likely take control of the Clan. But since she’s marrying into the Gang, the Gang will likely take control on her behalf. Reshuffle staff and personnel. Relocate their bases. Might even force Jaehwi to fully retire.”
You think back to how Jiwon fits into all of this. You think of how she’ll lose the only people in her life because of this merger—because of this marriage.
You think back to her crying face. To how she punches you whenever you tease her. To the way she curls up in her sleep.
You think of all the time you spent together. Those numbered days counted against less weeks than you have fingers. You think about how you once look forward to meeting her at four in the afternoon each day—everyday. And you think about how disappointed you felt every time you had to leave.
You think of her beautiful eyes, of the scent of roses and elegance, and of her warm gentle smile.
And you watched it all vanish from view.
But then, you hear her voice in your head.
“Tell me … do you think broken people can ever be fixed again? Do you think … do you think we can ever feel complete?”
And then it hits you.
What was your life for?
That’s something you have thought a lot about now that you were alone once again. You thought it was the quiet moments when you could sleep with a comfortable mattress beneath you and a cozy blanket around you each night. You thought it was the unspoken moments when you can blast into criminals with your pistols or slice them up into bits and pieces with your hwando. You thought it was about chasing after your revenge, letting violence lead the way, until you’ve spilled every last drop of their blood against your feet, until you’ve squeezed every last ounce of your sorrow from your shallow little heart.
But that’s the problem, isn’t it? You clung to this path of yours like a vice. It rid you of your misgivings, but did it fill the emptiness that remained within you?
No. It left you empty still.
So what filled your life?
It was the color. The color she brought into your world.
Through the recollections of your past, through the little moments you shared, through the warmth of her cheek, through the tightness of her fingers against yours, through the echo of her laughter in your mind, and through the tightness in your chest when you are away—Kim Jiwon has not only brought glorious technicolor into your life once more.
She’s taught you how to live again. She’s taught you how to love again.
To love each day. To love yourself. And most importantly, to love her.
So when you realize all this, and you stand up to finally tell Yujin your answer, you realize what you have to do. She has given you your life back, and now, it was time for you to give back hers. “Yujin, give me rolls of hand wraps, pepper spray, a taser, and your finest suit. I’m … I’m going to need it.”
She doesn’t even question your request. She just smiles at whatever you’ve come to realize and nods. “I thought you’d never ask. I have just the right suit for you.”
And so you do it—you go chase after your purpose.
You chase after her.
Tugging on your tightened tie, dressed from head to toe in this sleek secondhand suit Yujin lent you—which she claims was from some renowned assassin, John Something-or-Other—you beat your wrapped up fists together to bolster yourself before you crossed the road and head towards La Luce Wedding Hall at Myeongdeong.
The entrance is crawling with goons from both the Devil Cat Clan and the Golden Dragon Gang alike. But you don’t care. You’re not here for them. You’re not here for any of them at all. You’re only here for one person and one person alone.
Kim Jiwon.
No bullets. No lethal weapons. Just carrying enough with you to get past some trouble.
You take a deep breath, put the crow mask back on, and charge right in.
Of course you’re stopped before you even get to the front steps.
The Clan henchmen are the first to recognize you. They wouldn’t miss your mask even with their eyes closed. They chase after you, pin you down, and start beating you up, eager to grab a piece of you as they threaten to rip you apart.
But you resist. You break free from their grasp and start sacking them in their pathetic faces. Throwing punches left and right with your wrapped up fists. Knocking them out cold but not dead.
This strategy of yours quickly falls apart the moment the Gang goons join in to stop you. So you whip out your pepper spray and taser and go ham on them. Leaving behind an ocean of tearing and paralyzed fully-grown men in your wake.
By the time you pushed into the lobby, you were out of spray and charges, so the moment the goons with blades and brass knuckles lounging around on standby spot your intrusion, you begin to panic.
Well, shit. This could get bloody. Now you’re starting to wish you had your pistols with you.
Boom.
Like a stampede that cascades past your vision, you see a hulking figure tackle all of them out of the way, clearing your path forward. This same burly figure sacks some of the Gang goons and grapples some of the resistant Clan thugs who are looking at him in shock.
You’re in shock yourself too when you realize who this is.
“Gorilla,” you mutter as you see the familiar bodyguard wrestle a dozen other Clan and Gang lackeys, keeping them in place. “You—.”
“Enough about me! I won’t ask for your goddamn I.D. again,” he quips even while his face is being beaten in. “You came. So do what you have to do. Go to her!”
You nod and waste no time taking advantage of this opportunity.
You check each and every function room just to make sure, but after crashing more than a handful of parties and celebrations with a roundhouse kick to the door each time, you’re certain that the wedding you’re looking for was down the corridor—at the grand hall.
You should have known from the way the guards stationed outside of the hall were holding guns this time.
One of them presses a finger into his earpiece and receives some sort of missive. When he sees you, he beckons to his comrades and they take aim towards you.
Well, shit. This isn’t good.
But just before your life could flash before your eyes, a circular object imposes itself before you, interposing between you and certain death.
“Young master, so you really did return,” Areum grunts, smiling down at you as she holds up her tray like she’s Captain fucking America, deflecting their bullets and holding them at bay. “Lady Jiwon is just up ahead. The ceremony is already under way but you still have time. Don’t waste it!”
When the rain of bullets stops and the men begin to reload, you give Areum a solid nod before darting towards them.
They try to reach for you with their empty weapons, trying to tackle you, trying to pin you down or smack you with their guns, but you’re too fast for them. You’re zigzagging through the traffic until you manage to burst through the doors of the grand hall.
You’re a mess.
Your mask is askew on your face. Your bandages are bloody and tattered. Your suit is anything but straightened. But here you were. You finally made it.
And immediately knives are being thrown your way.
You duck behind guests, shamelessly using them as meat shields, but they’re smart and immediately flee your vicinity. You curse under your breath as you have to kick over tables and chairs to protect yourself from the mixture of blades and bullets. You’re left wondering if this was the end of the line. If this is as far as you’ll get.
It isn’t until you see a princess in a lilac dress duck next to you behind your table that you see a spark of hope. “Hyunseo?”
“You promised to take care of my sister, didn’t you?” she recalls, loading up the gun she’s holding before shoving it towards you. “Then prove it. Don’t let that bloody Golden Dragon Gang’s son take my unnie away. Aim for the ones in white!”
You nod, and when you hear the clicks and clacks of reloading guns, you grab the opportunity to get back up and start firing at them one by one.
Bang. Between the shoulder and clavicle.
Bang. Right to the solar plexus.
Bang. Against the ankle.
You fired your gun only at the members of the Golden Dragon Gang who were dressed in white—and you didn’t shoot to kill. The moment the Devil Cat Clan noticed this, they ceased their assault towards you and watched as you cleaned up the last of the Gang men with weapons, rendering them all immobile.
And now, it was finally time.
Unaware of where the ceremony’s already at, you come bursting onto the aisle and lean forward on your knees to catch your breath. When you glance back up, you see Jiwon holding hands with Alex the Lion, wearing the most beautiful pure-white dress you have ever seen, her veil already pulled back to reveal her face.
You came just in time to stop the kiss.
Guests on either side of the aisle stand up in a mix of awe, surprise, and condemnation. Some try to boo you away from getting any further. Others murmur and gasp at your insolence for intruding. But you don’t worry about them. They’re either potbellied pigs who have fattened themselves up from crime money or senile veterans who showed up just for the ceremony of it all. They weren’t capable of harming you at all.
Towards the front, you see Kim Jaehwi standing now, watching you, not interfering whatsoever. You see Alex the Lion staring you down like a predator would another who dared to interrupt his hunt. Then, you see Jiwon glancing at you with those eyes that you’ve seen before—the look she has on her when she’s asking you to buy something or to get her something or to take her somewhere.
This is it. Everything has lead to this moment.
You undo your bandages and reveal your swelling fists. You take your hwando blade from behind your back and unsheathe it, making the blade shine underneath the yellow hall light. Tossing the casing aside, you do the unthinkable before the crowd.
You kneel before Kim Jaehwi—your sworn goddamn enemy—press your forehead between his polished shoes, and offer up your own weapon towards him.
“What is the meaning of this? What the fuck are you doing in MY WEDDING?” Alex growled from the altar, threatening you with nothing but words. “If you want to make a fool out of yourself, do it else—.”
“Ceremonial eviction.”
With those two words alone, you command the entire room in an instant as the grand hall falls silent to listen to you. “Ceremonial eviction. I read about it—about your Clan. When someone decides to quit without any good reason or is forced to leave due to misconduct, you perform a ceremonial eviction. You cut off a finger. Or a toe. Sometimes you even cut off an ear if it’s that bad. To make up for their insolence. To leave a mark on their bodies—a mark they can never forget.”
You raise your blade up higher. “I’ve used this weapon to kill hundreds … thousands of your Clan. I used this same weapon to … to kill your main wife, So Gowon. So I offer it to you, Kim Jaehwi. Use it to end my life, but just … just promise me that in exchange for doing so—for getting rid of the largest thorn in your side—you set her free. You let Jiwon go and allow her to live a proper life outside of this syndicate bullshit. That’s all I ask.”
You can’t see Jaehwi properly, but you don’t need to to envision the face he makes as he picks up your hwando. “You have the guts to murder my men, my people, and even my own wife … you even pretended to be interested in my daughter, then assault her, and then now … you have the gall to come waltzing back in here begging for her freedom? You sure make a lot of demands for a pathetic little wretch.”
With a deep breath, Jaehwi wastes no time. “Die. Die knowing your sacrifice will mean nothing in the end.”
Slink.
When you expect the blade to sink and tear through the skin of your neck, you instead feel the tickle of cloth and lace against your cheek along with the smell of roses.
You glance up and see Jiwon kneeling in front of you, interposing between you and her father—arms stretching out to the side, face drowning in tears, trembling in body but unwavering in spirit. “Stop, father … please don’t hurt him … If you want to let your frustrations out on someone, then … then let it be me. But not him. Not him. He’s already gone through so much in his life … more than I could ever hope to bear alone. He just … he just wanted to get revenge on the people who hurt him … on us … like you want revenge on the person who killed eomma … on him … Let me—let me take his punishment instead …”
Jaehwi spends a moment to take it all in, to take in the sight of his eldest daughter willingly throwing his life over a nobody like you instead of being wed to someone as well-off as Alex the Lion.
With a chuckle, he stabs the blade into the wooden pew and crashes back onto it. “Who the fuck are you, huh? Who the fuck are you to my daughter that she comes bursting out of her shell to confront me just for you? You … you’re one lucky man—having such a fine young woman stand up for you so boldly like this,” he says, turning to his daughter now. “And you—I asked you once before, and I’ll ask you again: are you sure about this man?”
Jiwon helps you up to your feet and holds your wrists tightly. She doesn’t look anywhere else but right into your eyes as she asks you, “Did you … did you mean what you said to me that night? After we got drunk and got home? You said … you said broken people like us could still be fixed—could still feel whole—with other people. In other people. Because … because, god—I’ve had this hole inside of me ever since I could remember. Even before my mother. Even before her death … So please, tell me, did you mean it? Do you really mean it? Because … because you’ve managed to fill this aching hole of mine bit by bit ever since I met you, and now, I don’t know what else to fill it with—who else to fill it with—other than you.”
You take a step forward, and then another, and then a final one before you press your forehead against Jiwon’s and nuzzle into her. “Kim Jiwon, I meant every single word I said to you that night because you do the same for me. You made me … think of a future. You made me look forward to waking up again. And … you helped me find a purpose. Even if it meant just protecting you. Even if it just meant being with you and keeping you safe. Even if it just meant making a beautiful woman like you happy for the rest of her days. It brought me joy—a joy so overwhelming it’s filled more than just the hole in my heart.”
“Kim Jiwon, you gave me my life back … and I can’t thank you enough for it. With you, I feel complete. I feel whole. I feel … like me again. So please … let me help give you your life back too.”
Jaehwi seems satisfied with this. He takes out his pistol from his pocket and aims at Alex. “Get out of there, boy. This wedding’s continuing, but not with you.”
Flabbergasted, he strokes his mane back in place and glares at the old man. “Oh no, that isn’t happening, Jaehwi. My father and I struck a deal with you—.”
Bang. Jaehwi shoots him right in the knee, sending him crumpling forward and howling in pain. “I don’t give a rat’s ass about that now. Someone get him off the bloody altar.”
In mere moments, a mix of Clan and Gang thugs help escort Alex off the altar and into the front pews to lay him down and stop his knee from bleeding out.
Jaehwi turns to the both of you now, smiling. “Go, sweetheart. Get married to him like you were supposed to. And, son—don’t fuck it up this time.”
So you hold Jiwon’s hand, and she holds yours. You walk her down what little stretch of aisle is left until the altar. You both giggle when you realize that’s what father’s do with their daughters—not what future husbands do for their future wives.
You pull her veil down, only to pull it back up. When your eyes meet again for the first time in what feels like ages, you can’t help but get lost in them. The priest, who is absolutely still in shock over everything that just happened, asks you. “Do you accept this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?”
You think back to the time you two danced slowly, holding each other, masks off, just staring genuinely into each other’s eyes.
“Yes. I-I mean, I do. I do.”
As Jiwon chuckles, she gets asked the same thing. “And do you, in turn, accept this man to be your lawfully wedded husband from this day forward, to have and to hold, in good times and bad, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health; will you love, honor, and cherish him for as long as you both shall live?”
“Even if I have to die all over again and be reborn the next day, even if I have to find him through different biomes and different versions of reality—I will find him. And I will love him. I do. I really do.”
“Hey, wait, did you just make a Minecraft—.”
Before the priest can tell you to kiss the bride, your bride kisses you first. She drags you in with a need that’s more than passion or lust, and you respond in kind by pressing her lips against hers and holding her oh-so-close.
And as the organ begins to play the song of victory, and as the guests gathered here today cheer nonetheless for a successful wedding—some way, somehow—you dip Jiwon forward as you continue to kiss each other. Only when you break away to chuckle and nuzzle your noses together does that thought ever come to you.
“After all that’s happened to me, after all that we’ve been through, I still … can not believe that this is happening right now. This is absolutely unreal.”
Jiwon chuckles into your lips as she steals another kiss from you. “You know, we’re supposed to have our first kiss before we have sex for the first time. You got the order all wrong.”
You just shake your head against the teasing girl. “You’re unreal.”
But Jiwon shakes her head in reply as well. “No—we’re real now, my love.”
A/N: I wrote fluff. I really can't bring myself to write smut for Leeseo yet. I hope you won't be disappointed that I didn't write smut. I will try to improve on my lacklustre fluff skills~ ❤️ This is dedicated to my princess.
Also big thanks to fluff lords @ducktoo and @dotoliwrites for the impeccable advice.
“I’m 20! Let me wear whatever I want!”
“No.”
Leeseo twirls around in her photoshoot outfit that basically covers 90% of her skin, not showing anything other than her hands, neck and face.
“But this is so boring…” she says, stopping mid spin. Her fingers pinch and pull onto the fabric around her chest, making the well-ironed top distort with two sharp peaks. “It's giving so much baby idol vibes. I want something… hotter~”
You lean against the clothing rack, arms crossed, looking at her with uninterested and cold iron eyes.
“It's age-appropriate. Cute. Safe. Fans like cute.”
She stomps her foot, flats squeaking on the polished floor as she turns to face you.
“Safe? Cute? I'm not cute anymore!” Leeseo whines, pitching up into that familiar babyish tone she uses when she wants attention. She tugs her skirt hem higher, exposing an inch of thigh above her jet black stockings.
Yujin’s sprawled across the black leather couch in the corner with her long legs stretched out, phone in hand. She laughs without looking up, “She's right, oppa. Let the maknae show some skin. She's all grown up now.”
Wonyoung, who's sitting beside Yujin with her legs elegantly crossed, smiles softly as she scrolls through photos of Dubai chocolate on her phone. She flicks her eyes between you and Leeseo.
“She’s been 20 for months. Let her try.”
Leeseo beams at her two favorite unnies, then turns back to you with triumphant, sparkling eyes.
“See? Even they agree!”
You transform into a wall. “The concept is youthful. Not sexy. You want to risk Dispatch headlines on your first solo teaser?”
Her smile falters for a second, then she sticks her tongue out at you childishly.
“You’re no fun.”
“Fun? We're not here for ‘Fun’,” you raise your voice. “Having ‘Leeseo from IVE Transforms Into A Vixen’ plastered all over every media outlet and forum is not ‘Fun’.”
She ignores you and flounces over to the rack, fingers dancing across hangers until she yanks out a sheer black mesh top. It's practically see-through with delicate straps, designed to be layered under something else.
She holds it against her chest, turning to the mirror again. “What about this? With the skirt? Super chic.”
You step forward and reach past her shoulder, taking the hanger from her hand.
“No.” You hang it back on the rack with a cutting force. “You stick to the concept.”
She gasps dramatically and shoves your chest lightly with both palms.
“You’re so mean! I’m literally an adult!”
Yujin snorts from the couch. “Adult tantrum in 3… 2…”
Leeseo spins on her heel, pigtails whipping across the air and points at you accusingly.
“Fine. Tomorrow’s my solo photoshoot. If you won’t pick something hotter, I’ll just do it myself.”
She snatches her bag — leopard-print, of course (she switched out her pink cutesy purse the day she turned twenty) — from the chair and storms toward the elevator.
Halfway there she “accidentally” knocks over a clothing rack. The metal clatters and garments of “cute clothes” that she rejected avalanches onto the floor in a colorful heap.
She freezes and squeaks with a purposeful (?) “Oops!”. She bolts off even faster with flaming cheeks, nearly tripping over the mess she made.
She pauses right at the elevator doors and glances back at you. She looks just the way she used to when she was twelve, waiting for you to tell her it’s okay to cry.
You don’t call her name.
You haven’t in three years.
Not since the first time Dispatch posted blurry photos of you two leaving a convenience store at 2 a.m. and the comments called her “the trainee with the staff boyfriend”.
It was just to buy some late night snack, but that snack was the appetiser to learning how fast a rumor can spread, and how fast it can burn everything down.
She snaps her head back and leaves.
The makeup artist in the corner stifles a laugh.
Her manager that's leaning against the doorframe shakes his head fondly. “Same old Leeseo,” he mutters, loud enough for you to hear.
You walk towards the mess and bend to pick up the fallen clothes, folding them methodically, avoiding everyone’s eyes.
Your phone buzzes in your pocket.
You pull it out habitually.
<Tiger Cub, 18:29> This was taken in the changing room earlier. Look at this outfit! Too baby right? 😣
You stare at the photo but your three fingers move automatically, swiping them down — screenshot taken. The instant the screen capture happens, everything disappears.
She unsent it.
You open the folder labeled “L” and move it into the sub-folder “Pouts”.
The counter ticks up: 248 items.
A small, subtle smile tugs at the corner of your mouth, and it's gone before anyone sees.
Well, someone saw it.
“You just smiled at your phone. That was her, wasn’t it?” Yujin raises an eyebrow.
You school your face back to Unbreakable Wall Mode and pocket the phone.
“Work.”
Wonyoung laughs softly. “She’s going to keep pushing until you crack, you know.”
The makeup artist glances over with a grin as she touches up Wonyoung’s highlighter.
“We’re all rooting for you two, oppa. Just say the word and we’ll help.”
The manager chuckles from the doorway. “Been saying that for years. Kid’s too stubborn to listen.”
You finish folding the last top and set it back on the rack.
Your phone buzzes again.
<Tiger Cub, 18:32> I’m sorry for being dramatic… Don’t hate me okay?
<Tiger Cub, 18:33> …You still there?
You swipe your fingers again, and with a few taps, you archive it into “Cries”.
Then type back a curt reply.
<You, 18:33> I’m here. Go home. Rest for tomorrow.
She replies instantly.
<Tiger Cub, 18:33> Promise you’ll be at my shoot?
You stare at the screen, thumb hovering over the send button after typing out the message in a flash. But you decide to delete every letter and wait for five minutes.
<Tiger Cub, 18:35> Hello? Are you mad? I'm sorry for messing up the clothes.
<Tiger Cub, 18:36> Those cute dresses probably deserved to be on the floor anyway~
<Tiger Cub, 18:37> I saw you typing earlier. Why aren't you replying!
<Tiger Cub, 18:38> Fine! I’ll just wear whatever I want tomorrow if you don’t reply!
<Tiger Cub, 18:39> Alright alright I'm sorry!
You save another screenshot again, tucking it into the “Tantrum” folder.
Then your fingers move again, tapping a short and curt reply.
<You, 18:39> I’ll be there.
She sends a single heart emoji, then nothing.
You open the “L” folder again, yes again, and drag the heart emoji screenshot into “Soft”.
Silence settles over the studio again.
“She likes you, you know,” Wonyoung looks up from her phone, a gentle smile curving her lips.
You exhale through your nose.
“I know.”
Yujin grins, finally looking up from her screen. “And you like her back. So why do you keep freezing her out?”
Wonyoung quips in, “Don’t keep her waiting too long. She’s been waiting for years already.”
You don’t answer.
But deep down, you already know she’s right.
Leeseo never stops pushing.
And part of you — the part you keep locked away — hopes she never does.
***
“JANG WONYOUNG!”
“WONYOUNGAHHHHHH”
“LUCKY VICKYYY!”
The fashion event is a glittering cage: crystal chandeliers overhead, velvet ropes corralling the savage crowd, photographers shouting names like battle cries, champagne flutes clinking like tiny warnings.
Wonyoung moves through it like she was born under spotlights. A black strapless velvet mini-dress hugs her slender frame with massive silk roses blooming at her hip like a dark flower. The dress is short and daring, the hem barely skimming mid-thigh, and the way the velvet clings to her skin makes every step a quiet statement. Nothing like how you would dress Leeseo.
Her hair is swept into a loose, glossy wave, and priceless diamonds glint at her ears and throat.
But the real diamond of the event is the lady who’s parting crowds with every step.
You’re here as her stylist — officially.
Unofficially, you’re here because she asked, and because saying no to Wonyoung has never been easy.
She links her arm through yours as you step onto the red carpet. It's natural, practiced, and it's Jang Wonyoung. She doesn't say, but she always does this with people she trusts.
Cameras explode with blinding lights.
She laughs at something you murmur about the rose detail → leans in close → whispers in your ear, hand resting lightly on your chest for the photographers.
Your other hand settles instinctively at her lower back, just above the swell of her ass, steadying her as she turns for a profile shot.
The placement is professional.
Necessary for balance on the uneven carpet.
But from the angle of the cameras — and from the phone screens Leeseo is probably staring at right now — it looks intimate.
Possessive.
Your fingers rest there with no intention while Wonyoung poses with her hip cocked, rose blooming dramatically against the black velvet. She winks and blows a kiss at the camera.
Perfect shot for the cameras.
Your phone buzzes in your pocket.
Not a perfect shot for her.
You glance down at your phone.
<Tiger Cub, 19:35> Have fun with Wonyoung-unnie~ 😒
[photo attached: a forehead shot with a frown so pronounced she aged her cute youthful self by fifty years.]
You chuckle and swipe the three fingers down again. She looks beautiful, beautifully chaotic and impossible to ignore. But before you can reply, she unsent the photo.
Too bad you’re the God of Speed (only for screenshots). You open the folder labeled “L”, adding the new collection to "Dissatisfaction".
You wipe the grin off your face once the archiving is complete, but Wonyoung sees it anyway.
“She’s texting you again?”
You pocket the phone and give the same answer you always give.
“She thinks there’s something between us,” you mumble.
Wonyoung tilts her head, hair catching the light as she poses for another camera — this time with a heart pose on her two rosy cheeks.
“She’s not wrong that we’re close. Just… not in the way she thinks.”
She squeezes your arm gently.
“Tell her the truth when you’re ready. She deserves to know you only have eyes for her.”
Your phone buzzes again, but this time it’s Yujin.
<AHN Yujin, 19:37> Yah oppa, Leeseo’s been staring at her phone like it owes her money 😂
She keeps refreshing her Instagram. Tell her to chill before she breaks the app
<AHN Yujin, 19:38> Or better yet, stop being so cold to her, she’s gonna combust!
You read the texts and screenshot it, sending it to the “Tantrum” folder before typing back:
<You, 19:38> She’s fine. Just tell her to behave.
<AHN Yujin, 19:39> She’s NOT fine. She just asked me if you and Wonyoung look good together in photos 🤦♀️
<AHN Yujin, 19:39> I told her “they look like siblings who fight over the last fry”, but she didn’t laugh.
<You, 19:40> I'm not laughing either. That wasn't even funny…
<AHN Yujin, 19:40> Seriously? I'm tryna help you here. Fix your maknae before she cries into her pillow tonight. She looks like she's gonna cry any moment.
You exhale and pocket the phone again.
“Yujin texting you too?” Wonyoung asks.
You nod.
“She says Leeseo’s spiraling.”
Wonyoung’s smile softens with a hint of sadness. “She’s scared you’ll pick someone else. She thinks she’s not enough.”
“I know. But I can't pick her now,” you say. “Not when she's peaking with her career.”
Wonyoung opens to reply, but your phone buzzes again. It's a voice note from Leeseo.
You save it before you tap play, placing your ear close to the speaker. Her voice comes through, and it's rushed, shaky and higher-pitched than usual:
“Oppa I didn’t mean to be weird I just saw the photos and you two looked so close and I—wait no I’m being stupid, forget it, sorry sorry—”
She stops mid-sentence.
You tap the transcripting function and screenshot her message before she deletes it, archiving it into “Cries” with satisfaction.
Another buzz.
<AHN Yujin, 19:43> She just unsent her voice note to you. I saw her face when she did it — pure panic.
<AHN Yujin, 19:43> Oppa… she thinks you hate her now.
<AHN Yujin, 19:44> Fix it before tomorrow’s shoot or she’s gonna be a mess.
<You, 10:44> I don’t hate her.
<AHN Yujin, 19:45> Then TELL HER THAT. Or better yet, show her. We both know you’ve been screenshotting her chaos for years.
<AHN Yujin, 19:46> Maybe let her see the folder someday. She’d melt. Please don't make me clean your mess…
<AHN Yujin, 19:46> …
<AHN Yujin, 19:47> Forget I suggested that. But seriously. She’s our baby tiger. Don’t let her think she’s not wanted.
You pocket the phone again, heart pounding a little harder than it should.
Wonyoung finishes another interview and walks back, noticing your expression.
“She sent a voice note?”
You nod, showing her the screenshots and your texts with Yujin.
Wonyoung squeezes your arm gently. “She’s scared. She thinks she has to compete with us. She doesn’t know me and Yujin are… together.”
“Then why don't you both tell her?” you ask Wonyoung.
“We will. When she’s ready to hear it,” Wonyoung giggles. “Right now she's still… acting like a child. Too dense. We shouldn't spoonfeed her. She needs to look at the bigger picture rather than just at you. Me and Yujin are always flirting with each other right in front of her, but she only has her eyes on you.”
“And also,” Wonyoung says, tapping on your chest with her pointy fingernail. “That's your tigress to tame. So maybe give her some hope to hold onto.”
You look at Wonyoung with a frown.
“Also, Oppa,” Wonyoung asks, turning back to look at you before walking off to meet another interviewer. “Are you still not going to change how you saved Yujin’s name? I'm gonna tell her you know~”
“...” You look at her dumbfounded. “Everyone calls her by her full name…”
She chuckles and struts away.
The event drags on endlessly: interviews, photo ops, small talk with designers. Wonyoung is flawlessly charming, touching your arm whenever she wants to emphasize a point. And every time she does, your phone buzzes again and again.
Leeseo’s texts come in waves:
<Tiger Cub, 20:06> You’re taking so many photos with her…
She unsends it.
<Tiger Cub, 20:09> Sorry I’m being clingy
Unsends.
<Tiger Cub, 20:11> Do you like her more because she’s prettier?
Unsends.
<Tiger Cub, 20:15> I hate myself rn
Unsends.
You screenshot every single one, every deleted message, every panicked retraction, adding all of them to the growing folders. You sigh and pocket your phone, focusing back on the event.
After a long arduous hour of man-made sun-tanning, the event finally winds down. Wonyoung slips her arm through yours again, this time for real comfort as you both leave for the limousine.
“She’s going to push harder tomorrow at her shoot,” she murmurs. “Be careful. She’s scared, not angry.”
“I know.”
“You should just tell her already. I know that incident has scarred you badly, but have you ever thought about facing it head on rather than pulling the plug right off the bat?” Wonyoung asks. “Sometimes being ready isn't a matter of when. You can't be ready for everything.”
You don’t answer.
But as you leave the venue, your phone lights up one last time.
<Tiger Cub, 21:58> I’m sorry for being weird tonight. Don’t hate me okay?
<Tiger Cub, 21:59> …You still there?
You screenshot it and type back.
<You, 22:00> Yes. Go to sleep. Photoshoot tomorrow. Your curfew’s up.
<Tiger Cub, 22:00> Promise you’ll be there?
<You, 22:01> I’m always there.
<Tiger Cub, 22:01> I’m 20 btw, don't forget. No more curfews.
<Tiger Cub, 22:01> Seeya tmr ❤️ ❤️ ❤️
You screenshot everything.
And when the car finally stops outside the dorm building, you allow yourself one small, private moment, opening the folder labeled “L” to scroll through years of her deleted messages, letting the smallest, softest smile cross your face.
You never delete anything she sends.
Because even when she tries to erase herself, you keep every piece.
“I’ll head in first, Oppa~” Wonyoung says, pecking you on the cheek before leaving.
The rain starts to speckle the windshield like sprinkles of reminiscence.
You lean back in the seat with your phone in hand, thumb swiping open the folder labeled “L.”
Thousands of files.
Years of her chaotic selfies, pouty voice notes, flirty texts, angry rants, deleted confessions.
Everything she regretted the second she hit send.
You scroll absently with your unwavering eyes, zooming past the streaking gallery until you stop on an old photo buried near the bottom.
Your eyes quiver as you tap on the picture. It's a blurry middle-school snapshot of Leeseo, soaked to the bone, grinning like she just won a war, holding your broken umbrella like a trophy.
***
“Sheesh, it's pouring…” you mumble, packing your bag. “I should have left an hour ago.” You zip everything up, grab your umbrella and prepare to leave the library.
“Oppa! My hero!”
Leeseo is standing under the school awning (again) with her arms crossed, scowling at the downpour. She’s already wet, probably trying to brave the light drizzle until it got unnecessarily heavy.
“Where's your umbrella?” You say, walking up holding your cheap plastic umbrella, tilting it over her head without any instruction.
She blinks up at you, then grins so wide her cheeks dimpled, eyes sparkling with mischief.
There it is… that damn grin again.
Before you can even blink, she grabs your hand and yanks you into the storm.
“Come on! Let’s splash!”
“We’ll get soaked!” you protest, but she was already running, laughing wildly, dragging you through puddles, jumping in every one she saw like the rain is her personal playground.
She slips on a slick patch, arms windmilling in exaggeration — okay well maybe not an exaggeration — and almost face-plants into concrete. But you lunge forward and catch her around the waist.
She lands against your chest, rain streaming down her face, soaking your well, already soaked uniform, plastering her hair to her cheeks. For a heartbeat she just stares up at you, eyes wide, cheeks pink from cold and adrenaline. Then she burst out laughing again, throwing her arms around your neck, hugging so tight it hurt.
“You always catch me, oppa.”
You stand there, heart slamming against your ribs, arms locked around her, umbrella forgotten on the ground as the rain pours over both of you.
She pulls back — still grinning mischievously — then looks at the umbrella. Her smile sinks.
“Oops… sorry. It's… broken.”
You shrug and pick it up, handing it to her anyway.
“Keep it. It’s yours now. It will still cover you until you get home.”
She takes the umbrella and twirls it like a professional gunspinner, before swishing it around like she's practicing the Heavenly Demonic Sword Art, Form Eleven, only for the handle to break.
You walk forward and take a picture of her, before picking up the fallen umbrella again and flick her forehead. “Go home you cheeky girl. Before you get a cold.”
Leeseo sticks her tongue out and bleps at you before leaning in to hug you again, face burying in your shoulder.
“Promise you won’t ever leave me alone in the rain?”
You swallow with your throat tight, feeling the warmth of her against you despite the cold. Her heartbeat thumps against yours.
“I promise.”
***
You tap the back button and the picture minimises.
She never noticed how long you hold on.
Never noticed the way your hands shake slightly when you finally let go.
Never noticed that you walk home drenched, smiling the whole way because she’d been safe, because she’d laughed, and because she’d trusted you enough to fall into your arms.
She just skipped ahead, still laughing, still chaotic, still completely unaware that you’d already fallen for her so hard it hurts to breathe.
You scroll again, landing on another old photo that was taken in elementary school. This time it's a crumpled lunchbox with spilled rice and side dishes splayed on the schoolyard grass. Leeseo is crouched beside it, teary-eyed as she looks up into the camera.
***
“Hyunseo-ah, that's mine!”
Leeseo giggles as she runs away with your lunchbox — again, it's now her favourite game — daring you to chase her.
You chase, of course you do, because that's your lunch. You run around the playground, past the swings, through the flower beds.
She swerves left and right, darting up and down like a tiger in the wild — maybe a tiger cub for now — avoiding and juking your every attempt to catch her.
Then it finally happens.
Leeseo trips over her own feet, and your lunchbox is sent flying, rice and kimchi scattering everywhere.
She lands hard with a small shriek, scraping her knee. But she doesn't cry, not until she stares and looks at the mess, finally bursting into tears.
“I ruined your lunch… I’m sorry… I’m so stupid…”
Her voice cracks and something inside you cracks too. But you don't forget — you take out your phone and snap a picture.
“Why did you take a picture of me crying…” she wails even louder.
“I need to show your Mom how you hurt yourself,” you lie, pocketing your phone before kneeling beside her. You brush the dirt off her knee. “No bleeding. Anywhere else hurt?”
She shakes her head. “But the food…”
“It’s just food,” you say, picking up the spilled food with your hands.
“But it was your favorite…” She sniffles, looking up at you with big, wet eyes.
You shrug and pull out the extra rice ball you always packed (because you knew she’d steal half of yours anyway).
“Here. Eat this.”
She stares at you and lunges forward, hugging you so tight that you almost fall over. “You’re the best oppa ever.”
You let her cling, hand patting her back awkwardly. Your heart pounds so hard that you’re sure she can feel it.
She never knew you packed the extra rice ball every single day.
Just in case.
***
Back then, she cried into your shoulder and you held her until she stopped shaking. But now she cries alone in her dorm after unsending messages — Gaeul and Rei, her roommates told you — hoping you still yearn for her.
She never knew you kept the empty lunchbox in your drawer for months and years. You can't tell her. It's a stupid, sentimental thing that's still there, displayed on your collection shelf.
But every day you look at it, hoping that she’ll just see you as the reliable friend who never gets mad. Nothing good will probably come out if your relationship with her goes public.
You sigh and close the folder, thumb brushing the faded cat keychain on your wrist (her thank-you gift from the lunchbox day).
You kept every promise.
Every mess.
Every tear.
Every laugh.
Even when it means staying quiet.
Even when it means watching her grow up without ever telling her how much you love the girl who makes your world louder, brighter, messier.
***
Leeseo is at the center, wearing the approved concept outfit you pulled together. It's a pink-and-white baseball jersey with bold playful words lettering across the chest, loose enough to look effortlessly sporty but fitted at the waist. The hem hits mid-thigh over black bike shorts, paired with a white cap (pink bow on the back), pink baseball glove dangling from her hand, and white sneakers with pink accents. It’s youthful, energetic, and marketable. Cute with a tomboy edge.
But she hates it.
“Leeseo, hands on your hips with your glove raised,” the photographer calls for a pose. “Give me a playful V-sign with a wink!”
Leeseo does it, but her eyes keep flicking to you.
You’re standing off to the side with your arms crossed and phone in hand, reviewing the shot list with the creative director.
Every time her gaze lands on you, she adjusts, tugging the jersey higher to expose a sliver of midriff, shifting her weight to push her hip out further. You pretend not to see, but she tilts her cap back a little more, bites her lip harder, and lets her lashes drop slower.
Anything to grab your attention.
But she got the wrong target.
The photographer notices and chuckles.
“Leeseo, you’re giving extra spice today. New energy?”
She giggles and glances at you again, purposefully raising her voice to say: “Just trying to look like an adult for once.”
You keep your signature poker face on and keep scrolling on the phone, but your thumb pauses on a screenshot in your gallery.
It's her text from this morning (sent during hair & makeup).
<Tiger Cub, 07:32> Oppa the makeup is too soft… I look like a doll again 😣
[photo attached: close-up selfie of her bare face with barely any make-up, accentuating her youthful vibe.]
And to no surprise, she unsent it 20 seconds later, which you managed to screenshot before it's gone.
The photographer calls for a wardrobe adjustment, and Leeseo disappears behind the partition.
You hear rustling, then her sharp voice pierces through the air: “Oppa! Come here a second!”
You ignore her cries, admiring the screenshot for a moment more before sighing and closing the gallery app.
You walk over and she pokes her head out. Her hair is slightly mussed, cheeks flushed. “I changed my mind. I’m wearing the mesh top. I need to feel like me today.”
She holds up the sheer black mesh top from the day earlier, the one you rejected.
You stare at it, and then back at her.
“No.”
She bleps at you again and hides back into the changing room. The next thing you know, she steps out fully, already wearing it over her jersey. The mesh clings, sheer enough to show the pink-and-white baseball print underneath.
She spins around defiantly.
“See? Super chic. Fans will love it.”
You step inside and growl at her low so the crew doesn't hear.
“Take it off. Now.”
Her eyes flash with hurt from your words, then instantly switch to anger.
“Why? Because it’s too sexy? Because I’m not allowed to be hot? Because you think I’m still just a baby?”
Her voice cracks on the last word.
Your blood boils. You whip out your phone and take a picture of her. You tap on your phone and send it to her.
<You, 14:38> Lee Hyunseo. Image first. You know why. You look atrocious.
You attach the photo you took along with the message.
“Why are you texting me when you're right here!” she growls at you. “ And no. I don’t know why. You always say that. ‘Image first.’ ‘Safe first.’ ‘Fans first.’ What about me first? What about what I want?”
You raise your phone to type another message again, but she pushes you back against the partition wall, body flush with yours.
“You're always on that god damn phone, smiling at it. You think I didn't notice? Am I that unattractive that you're ignoring me?”
Her breath is warm on your neck as her hands fist your shirt. “Give it to me. Let me see what you're always looking at.”
She yanks it from you with an unfounded monstrous strength, trying to open your past launched apps. In a panic, you scuffle with her, trying to stop her, both your fingers clambering over the screen. You manage to snatch it back for a moment, but the gallery app has already been launched. You try to bolt out of the changing room, but she yanks the phone back, hiding in the corner, blocking your advances with her back to you as she crouches.
You can't even attempt to snatch it back now without using force. But you couldn't even think about laying a finger on her — let alone hurting her— just to get it back.
“Hyunseo… give it back.”
Your voice is low, almost pleading, but she doesn't care.
“If you won’t treat me like an adult, I’ll find someone who will,” she growls with her teeth grinding against each other, swiping through your gallery. “What's this? Wonyoung, Yujin, Wonyoung, Liz, Liz, Rei, Gaeul, Wonyoung, Gaeul, Yujin? No pictures of me?”
“No Hyunseo—that’s not what it looks—”
“You really hate me huh?” Her voice trembles with hurt and anger, cracking into something raw as she stands up and shoves you to the wall.
“Not here. Not like this,” you murmur urgently. “I’ll explain it to you later. Not now.”
She searches your face with her eyes wet and pupils blown.
“If not now then when? When I’m not cute anymore? When I’m not your baby maknae? Will you finally look at me then? Am I not even worthy of your gallery?”
Her lower lip quivers.
You feel the crack in your restraint.
You want to tell her.
Your jaw clenches so hard it aches.
Your breathing hitches.
You grab her hands, fingers tightening around her wrists. It's not bruising, but enough that she feels the tension in every tendon.
She notices and leans in closer, lips inches from yours. “See? You do want me. You just won’t admit it.”
You hold her gaze, looking into her deep, wanting eyes. Your head dips, mouth hovering over hers. It's close enough that you can taste the cherry gloss on her breath, close enough to feel the heat radiating from her skin.
She closes her eyes, waiting for you to move, lashes trembling as her eyelids shiver. The air between you crackles with anticipation, thick with years of unspoken want.
Every molecule is cheering you on.
Your grip on her wrists tightens, thumbs brushing the inside of her pulse points, feeling her heart race.
She shivers, thighs pressing together instinctively.
You lean just a little more, nose brushing against hers..
Her lips part as she exhales softly against your mouth, blowing the cheering air particles away.
And then you stop.
You freeze and pull back abruptly, releasing her wrists as if burned.
“Go finish the shoot. In the approved outfit.”
She stares at you with tears brimming in her eyes.
“You always do this… get close then leave. Am I that hard to want?”
Her voice cracks on the last word. “You used to stay. You used to hold on longer. When did you start letting go?”
She doesn’t wait for an answer. She already knows you won’t give one anyway. She turns away with her shoulders shaking. The same way they shook as the day you first pulled back three years ago. The very same day where the articles of her rumored boyfriend came out and the manager quietly told you “no more late-night convenience runs together".
The rest of the shoot goes smoothly on the surface.
She smiles for the camera as if nothing had happened, but every time the photographer calls “break,” she glances at you to check if you’re still watching.
You are.
Always.
Every break between takes she sneaks behind the partition again and you feel your phone buzz every single time.
<Tiger Cub, 15:20> I’m sorry for pushing you earlier
<Tiger Cub, 15:20> I just get so scared you don’t want me
She doesn’t send anything else.
You screenshot it and drag it into “Cries.”
But during the next break, your phone buzzes again.
<Tiger Cub, 15:40> You really mean it? You’ll talk later?
<You, 15:40> Yes.
<Tiger Cub, 15:40> Because I can’t keep pretending I don’t feel this way. It hurts too much.
<You, 15:40> I know.
<Tiger Cub, 15:41> Then why do you keep acting like I’m nothing?
You don't reply.
The photographer calls her back.
The shoot continues.
Later, during a lighting adjustment, Leeseo’s posing on a raised platform. She steps back too quickly and her foot catches a cable. She stumbles backward.
You move before you think, lunging forward from the sides to catch her elbow, steadying her against your chest.
She gasps with the same sharp inhale as all the falls she had in the past.
And her body freezes in your grip the exact same way it did back then.
Her hand instinctively curls around your forearm — muscle memory.
And your sleeve rides up, showing the faded cat keychain on your wrist that glints under the lights.
She sees it and freezes again. Yes, you already know by now: Lee Hyunseo is synonymous with freezing.
Her fingers brush it unconsciously and she whispers, “You still… have this…?”
You don’t answer, thumb brushing her elbow the same way you used to steady her scraped knee. You release her slowly. She steps back with her cheeks burning, but the look in her eyes has changed.
The photographer yells at the crew to tidy up the place, to make sure that hazards are minimised. Then he calls her name.
The shoot wraps at 5 p.m.
She disappears into the changing room without a word. You wait outside, leaning against the wall, phone in hand, waiting until it buzzes.
<Tiger Cub, 17:10> I’m sorry for being weird today. Don’t hate me okay?
<Tiger Cub, 17:10> …You still there?
You type back.
<You, 17:11> I’m always here. Good job today.
<Tiger Cub, 17:12> Promise you’ll come to the group dinner tomorrow? I need to talk. For real.
You stare at the screen.
<You, 17:12> I’ll be there.
<Tiger Cub, 15:13> ❤️
You screenshot it and save it, before finally leaving the studio.
You open the folder labelled “L” as you take the cab back, scrolling through years of her deleted messages again.
You let the smallest, softest smile cross your face.
***
The long table is crowded with the team: IVE members laughing too loud, makeup artists stealing bites of dessert, the manager pouring soju with practiced ease, the CEO at the head raising his glass every few minutes to toast “our rising stars.”
Leeseo sits across from you, pink-cheeked from two shots too many, pigtails slightly loose, eyes bright but restless.
She’s been watching you all night.
Yujin is on your left — arm slung casually over your shoulders, laughing at the manager’s bad joke, fingers occasionally tapping your collarbone when she talks.
Wonyoung is on your right — leaning into your side when she’s tired, head resting briefly on your shoulder, hand brushing your sleeve as she reaches for a drink.
It’s normal.
It’s always been normal.
But tonight it isn’t.
Every time when Yujin ruffles your hair or when Wonyoung leans close to whisper something, Leeseo’s smile tightens.
Her chopsticks stab at her food a little harder.
Her foot bounces under the table.
Her eyes flick between you and her two favourite unnies over and over, like she’s trying to solve a puzzle that keeps changing shape.
The makeup artist next to her notices — nudges her gently.
“You okay, Leeseo-ya?”
Leeseo forces a laugh.
“Totally fine! Just… happy!”
She downs another shot and grimaces at the bitterness — she clearly doesn't like the taste — then reaches across the table, snatching a piece of fried chicken from your plate.
“Mine now,” she declares playfully, but her eyes stay locked on Yujin’s arm around your shoulders.
You don’t react. You just push the plate closer so she can take more.
The manager chuckles at her. “Still stealing his food, huh? Some things never change.”
The CEO smiles knowingly.
“We’ve all watched you two grow up together. It’s nice to see.”
Leeseo freezes mid-bite, cheeks flushing.
The table goes quiet for a beat with everyone smiling, exchanging glances.
Yujin ruffles your hair casually again, mumbling tipsily, “Our oppa’s too stubborn to admit anything, though.”
Wonyoung giggles, clearly lighthead from the beer, head still on your shoulder. “He’s always been like that. Protecting her from everything, even herself.”
Leeseo’s chopsticks clatter against her plate.
She stares at everyone.
“You all know… don’t you?”
The makeup artist nods softly. “Everyone knows you two like each other. We’ve known for years.”
The manager adds gently, “He’s just scared of what will happen if the world finds out. That’s all.”
Leeseo looks at Yujin — then Wonyoung — then back at you.
“Then why won’t you ever just… say it?”
You meet her trembling eyes, and as usual, you don’t speak.
Her face crumples.
She stands up in a fit, chair scraping loudly. “I’m tired of this. I’m tired of watching you let them touch you like that. I’m tired of being the baby everyone protects. I’m tired of pretending I don’t feel this way every single day!”
Tears spill from her eyes.
“You used to catch me every time I fell. You used to stay even when I was a mess. When did I become the mess you’re afraid to touch?”
She bites her lower lips and grabs her bag, bolting out of the restaurant.
The table falls silent.
“Alright, I think we went too far with the teasing,” the CEO sighs fondly. “Go after her, kid. It's raining heavily. Before she catches a cold.”
You stand immediately, tipping the chair over as you run out into the rain.
Yujin and Wonyoung follow close behind.
Right outside, the rain is pouring in sheets.
Leeseo is crouched under an awning again, entirely soaked, arms wrapped around her knees, face buried as her shoulders shake. You run up, take your jacket off and drape it over her back, lifting the hood up to shield her face.
She flinches and looks up at you.
Rain streams down her cheeks, mixing with tears. Her eyes are red, mascara smudged in dark streaks as her lips tremble. “Why did you follow?” she chokes out. “Just leave me alone!”
You kneel, onto the ground as the rain soaks you both. You cup her face with both hands, thumbs brushing the rain and her tears away under your hood.
“I can’t,” you say. “I never could.”
Yujin and Wonyoung appear at the doorway with umbrellas open, but they stop there, watching silently, giving you space.
Leeseo cries even louder.
“I’m tired… I’m so tired of watching you with them. Of feeling like I’m not enough. Of pretending I don’t feel this way every single day.”
She tries to pull away, but your hold steadies her.
“Did I ever say you’re not? You’re enough,” you say. “You’ve always been enough.”
She shakes her head, tears falling faster. “Then why won’t you ever just… say it? Why do you keep acting like I’m invisible?”
She looks down at her hands.
“I used to think… if I was good enough, you’d never leave. Now I’m scared that even if I’m perfect, you’ll still leave.”
You inch closer, rain dripping from your hair onto her face.
“Because I’m terrified. One photo. One rumor. One wrong look from the wrong person and your career could end. I can’t risk that.”
Her eyes widen.
“But I’m done hiding it,” you say.
She stares at you.
You cup her face again, thumbs tracing her cheekbones. “Did you think I didn’t want you? I’ve wanted you since we were kids. The girl who dragged me into every puddle, who laughed too loud when she was scared, who cried when she thought no one was looking. I don’t care about perfect. I care about you. Every chaotic, beautiful, messy part.”
“Just show her your damn phone already, you idiot,” Wonyoung shouts at you from the door.
You nod and pull out your phone with one hand, shielding it from the rain with your body. You launch the gallery app and open the “L” folder. “What you saw that day wasn't because I didn't keep any photo of you,” you explain. You tap into the sub-folders: “Pouts,” “Cries,” “Sparks,” “Laughs,” “Old.”
You tilt it toward her, showing her everything that you kept as the rain blurring the edges.
“I kept every piece. Because I love every piece.”
A sob breaks from her throat.
Leeseo throws herself into your arms, face buried in your neck, fingers clutching your shirt.
“You… kept all my stupid messages. All my chaos…”
You wrap around her tightly, one hand cradling the back of her head, the other on her waist.
“I'm sorry if I made you feel unwanted…”
She pulls back from you, eyes searching yours as the rain streams down both your faces.
Then she surges up.
She kisses you.
Heavily.
Passionately.
Years of tension crashing together in the downpour.
Her lips are cold from the rain but warm underneath, tasting like salt and soju and everything you’ve wanted since you were old enough to understand what wanting felt like.
You kiss back hard, one hand sliding into her wet hair, the other pulling her closer by the waist. She makes a small, broken sound against your mouth, fingers digging into your shoulders. You tilt her head and deepen the kiss as the rain drips from your lashes onto her cheeks. She melts entirely in the cold shower, body molding to yours.
When you finally pull back, you're both gasping, foreheads pressed together.
“I love you too… I’ve loved you forever,” she whispers.
Yujin and Wonyoung watch from the doorway, smiling softly. “Just so you know, everyone inside is looking at you two,” Yujin teases, before quietly stepping back inside.
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0/100 (Remark: a lone number without the full score looks aesthetically better, but the numbers' font size will be too large for the writer's liking on Tumblr.)
"Bad bitch in between your teeth" Wth? How we went from Antifragile to this shit? Hybe should stop give them mediocre songs for TikTok, Le Sserafim deserves better kind of music
rbbaddie
25/100
no one eating from that stinky plate [Face with Tears of Joy]
rickyrickymom
42/100
if i see a single one of you hoes saying 'yOu gUyS jUsT hAtE fUn' i'm going to throw myself out the nearest window. spaghetti is a boring, derivative slop song, and pearlies isn't interesting enough to compensate for it. none of this is fun.
SPAGHETTI // 20
Pearlies // 65
You just fucked up — big time.
You genuinely thought it's fun — sexy bass line, addictive lyrics, j-fucking-hope. Though perhaps fun doesn't translate into positive audience reception and a lasting legacy. Alright, sure, the stream numbers are promising for now. The thing is going viral on TikTok and Instagram. People are shaking their heads to it.
Hybe is on your fucking ass.
Well, they're not actively on a manhunt for you, just on the verge of being banished into the shadow realm until morale improves. Perchance it's a few years, which, again, is a long time in this branch of industry. A group can debut and disband during the period. Idols grow up. And by the time you're back, you realize that you're not getting the call of duty anymore, at least from companies of your former stature.
You better hit the green with the next shot, whatever fuckass it's going to be.
(4 fucks in almost 150 words, way to go.)
Eat it up, eat it, eat it up
—
You have your accolades — credentials, feats — despite the youthful age of twenty-one years old. Your production is one of the best in this ruthless industry for Hybe: ENHYPEN's Go Big or Go Home, to NewJeans' ETA, to LE SSERAFIM's Ash. Call you a nepo baby with your mom's connections, you don't give many fucks about it, not that you search for her name everyday on Twitter. The scores and the praise are up there. That's the protein shake that has been letting you feed your ego upon — awful analogy, isn't it?
There are a few templates that you can borrow from: ANTIFRAGILE, Blue Flame, Eve, Psyche & The Bluebeard's Wife. To make it easy, you can just make another reggaetón, you can just make another nu-disco, you can just make another Baltimore club. Still, you're too far up your own ass to use the resolute formulas that are tried and true from other producers. You need new genres. You need something shiny. You need some undiscovered cadence and melody.
You want to be number one.
(You need a hit as well, but that's kind of the second priority. That kind of undermines the urgency of the earlier paragraphs, sure, but again, you're too arrogant to produce another generic, widely accessible dance-pop.)
(Another parenthesis just to say that HOT is in your On Repeat, despite all the disdain you have towards it, despite all the erroneousness that it represents about the music industry, despite the contradictions it's turning your life into.)
So, to set the scene, here you are, holing up in your room for the last three days, searching for the melody and rhythm to resurrect your career with, to be your royal flush. The deadline is far away, but you're a firm believer in not beating it by a small margin. You tinker and configure the tunes on your Ableton almost frantically. What the fuck is the current trend again?
You experiment a lot, certainly, possibly, even with how scattered your shots are, no matter how the audience reception might prevail as — house, R&B, even jazz is registered on your interface. You squeeze every drop of your originality onto the slate. Every chord is there. Every rhythm is there. Every word is there.
Still, nothing feels right.
You need air.
A session of showering like your dad taught you, and you're ready for a walk in this late-winter-and-early-spring weather. You go ride the elevator down from your floor's hallway. You walk out the door of your apartment building. You meet the chilly wind on the roadside. It reminds you of the spoken word preludes in LE SSERAFIM's EPs and albums for some reason.
Burn the bridge
Burn it all
Maybe it's the chatter of the people passing through.
Each step on the footpath turns the gears inside your head by a few degrees. They've been working together for the music that's pleasant to the ears for years, at least ante-Spaghetti — note after note, scale after scale, arpeggio after arpeggio. Your mind wanders through the possibilities of your career in regard to the next project's success: accomplished, passable, failure. The path in front of you is right there if you could just stop being such a snob about innovation and pioneering K-pop and—
"Producer?" a voice cuts through the air. You stop, frozen for a heartbeat. Not that you're not used to being recognized in public, you're just wary of the unforeseen consequences of talking to someone outside your company — corporate secrets and all. You adore talking about whatever you're doing right now (telling and not showing, a common pitfall, a fix is desired). You're so fucking proud of yourself (emotional dictation, again, a common pitfall).
You turn to the speaker, nonetheless, hands in your pockets that's surely not out of cold.
"Afternoon?"
It's Eunchae — the Hong Eunchae you failed a few months back, at least the version of her in the figment of your imagination; you've never asked her explicitly — out with the band, all five of them, plus two bodyguards.
"Oh, hey, afternoon, girls," you greet with the lilt of a weak duck.
The other members wave at you politely, while the guards just nod.
"You out for a meal?" Eunchae probes.
"No," and you pause. Your stomach growls the moment Eunchae mentions food. You haven't eaten since breakfast, and it's two post meridiem now. The answer changes into indefiniteness, "Maybe?"
Eunchae's lips curve up slightly into a small grin, looking cheerful as ever. "Wanna come with us?"
"Didn't we just eat?" Chaewon prompts, unconvinced.
"We can just stand in front of the restaurant while he eats!" Eunchae proposes. "And I completely forgot about the notion of street food."
The bodyguards and the other members are chuckling, while Chaewon just shrugs. "Should be a few at the square on our way back."
"I mean, I don't wanna be your deadweight. I can eat by myself, I promise," you decline out of considerateness.
—
Alright, maybe eating this kebab alone might be detrimental to your morale. Shit's fucking delicious with seven other people with you to talk about nonsense, five if you don't count the big, muscular bodyguards (why even bother describing them like this).
"Fuck mint chocolate, that's my stance," you state, mouth full of beef and tortilla-like wrap and all sorts of vegetables.
"So uncultured," Yunjin says, almost dismissing of your statement. "Bet you hate cherry Coke as well."
"I have a raging disdain for food experiments," you reply with a chuckle. "I like my plate, in music terms, cohesive."
Eunchae makes an audible sound of thinking before chiming in, "Wait, no, was gonna bring up Spaghetti, but your discography has been great aside from that."
"How rude," you humor — a twinge in your heart still. It's going to be a taint on your career from now on.
"And again, your words, cohesive," Eunchae continues. "Spaghetti, even if uninspired and TikTok-catering, remains united throughout the duration of almost three minutes."
"Here comes Hong Eunchae, the music critic," Sakura teases. "You should tell him your idea for the next comeback: shoe something, right?"
"Shoegaze!" Eunchae corrects. "It won't work here, though."
"Maybe he has some ideas, right, Mister Producer?" Yunjin encourages.
Oh, shit, yes, shoegaze, you haven't tried that one yet! The genre highly likely won't pass as the title track, but as a B-side, we're talking Blue Flame-level of music excellence! Your thoughts move towards the relatively experimental NMIXX's Fe3O4: FORWARD from last year — alt-pop, trap [EDM], contemporary R&B. Maybe it'll work, at least for one of the five songs.
"I'm listening," you say, locking eyes with Eunchae's, which are now gleaming with excitement about the genre that the anchors are My Bloody Valentine and Cocteau Twins (a bit of a run-on sentence, and quite a show-off from the writer).
She takes a deep breath and: "Do you know Hatchie?"
You're not really familiar with her. You like Sure, though. "A bit, I think."
"I'll send you her essential tracks," Eunchae says happily, whipping out her phone from her pocket, then:
(Also, she should've gone with this username for her public account, not hhh.e_c.v.)
—
The walk back to their dorm is you and the girls talking about more nonsense: the importance of mathematics, skincare routines, more mint chocolate bashings (from you, same reason: lack of harmony). The gears in your brain are turning greedily against one another, driving you into full operation with the brimming creativity coming from your conversations.
You're going to be on a goddamn roll when you're back at your apartment.
The eight of you reach LE SSERAFIM's dorm, eventually. You've been here a few times, showing them samples of their latest songs. It looks adequate for a group of their stature — a garden, a pool, a cozy appearance. Still, goodbyes exist, and the conversation becomes you and the girls and the guys bidding farewe—
"You wanna come in?" Eunchae invites before you can walk away.
You're taken aback slightly by the lack of reason for access. "For what?"
"Hanging out, maybe?" she answers with a shrug. "We have some Thai tea from, well, Thailand," and Eunchae giggles, earning more laughs from the other members and the bodyguards.
—
The glass containing an orangish substance (extremely likely Thai tea, as mentioned before) makes a clink sound against the table, and Eunchae settles herself beside you on the couch — not affectionate-close, not disgusted-far, in LLMs' words, just satisfactory. There's the sound of the heater running against the late-winter-and-early-spring air. The place smells floral from the air freshener, so lovely.
Your shoes are at the door. That's all the change in your outfit, while Eunchae has changed her clothes into a more casual tee and shorts. You've seen her in this look before, not complaining, though. It's heartwarming to have someone trust you this much, especially as a lone-wolf, youthful producer.
"You have your earbuds to yourself?" Eunchae asks, not saying AirPods because she doesn't use an iPhone.
You touch the outside of your pockets to find two objects on the left side: wallet and your AirPods case. "Yeah, Hatchie, right?"
"Yep."
You click the link Eunchae sent you earlier on Instagram, and you start with the first song: Carousel.
Play, and you sink into the sofa.
Eunchae is on whatever's on her phone as the song progresses. There's the hazy guitar. There are the dreamy vocals from Hatchie. There's the chilly rhythm from the drum kit. And if we're being honest, you think you can take something from it: undoubtedly the guitar. The vocals might be amiss in places if applied to the girls, but you might trailblaze the genre in South Korea! B-side it, and you get one of the best K-pop tracks ever. Your career is rejuvenated!
Carousel is followed by Sure, and Sure is followed by Back Into Your Arms with RINSE. The style is consistent throughout the tracks, but you don't feel jaded by these songs at all. God, why didn't you think of dream pop and shoegaze faster?
You keep listening to the playlist, gathering more information regarding the genre. Eunchae is still on her phone beside you, letting you bask in the emotion from Hatchie's music, and it helps, really. Your body relaxes into the sofa with each second that passes until you're at the deepest point you can get inside it.
"This is great," you say as you pull your right AirPods out by the end of the seventh track: Atonement with Winter (not that Winter). You're not wholly, utterly floored by Harriette Pilbeam, but this is good enough. "Anyone else I should listen to?"
Eunchae turns to you with a hum, then: "You are done already?" She looks confused as to why you've completed the two-hour-and-almost-a-half playlist so quickly.
"I think I have the idea of it," you reply, sliding Spotify away from your screen. You should probably leave now. Fuck, you haven't even touched the Thai tea. Okay, maybe you should try it. Why the hell is that orange so bright, though?
A sip — that's sweeter than you expected. You're strict with your diet, and it's apparent in your rather thin, lanky body. Sweeteners are restricted substances in your food.
"Alright, wow, this is sweet," you utter, not without another sip, though. Eunchae giggles. You think you like the smell of it — robust, unique.
"Was a little heavy-handed with the sugar, my bad," Eunchae apologizes with a cute smile, and you just have to backtrack your words about the drink a bit. She just looks too cute for the criticism.
"Not necessarily a bad thing, though," you say, and a sip turns into a gulp — addicted. In a sudden, you just downed an entire glass of Thai iced tea in front of Eunchae's eyes.
"Thanks!" she cheers, clapping softly.
You chuckle, setting the glass down on the table with a clink. "Okay, I'll leave now. Shit," and a moment of hesitation. "Again, anyone else I should listen to?"
"You're leaving already?" Eunchae speaks, almost not believing your words.
"I mean, I don't wanna disturb you guys too much, and I have to work, and I have to—"
"Come on, you're not disturbing us, and we can listen to," and Eunchae opens her Spotify. "Hold on, I need to find a shoegaze artist."
And against every rational, antisocial voice in your head, you wait. Maybe it's her unconditional fondness for the genre. Maybe it's her doe eyes. Maybe it's her thighs that you're staring at.
"The Radio Dept.!" Eunchae sings as she turns to you, and you're startled out of your short-lived, somewhat lusty trance. "Join my Jam!"
Okay, The Radio Dept. piques your interest, and Eunchae is practically begging you to stay with her all-cute face: again, doe eyes, pouty lips, sweet accents. How could you say no to that?
(There might be more Thai tea as well.)
You sigh, and you sit your lanky ass down on the sofa. Just for you, Hong Eunchae.
"Alright, I really love this compilation, so we can try this one first."
I Don't Need Love, I've Got My Band — the name stares back at you as Eunchae presses play, and you're greeted with the drums of Pulling Our Weight.
—
Time passes. It's probably half an hour by now since the start of the album, no, the compilation. You're at the pretty emotional and richly produced Let Me Have This, the last track. Eunchae hasn't made you another serving of Thai tea, and the ice cubes begin to melt in the glass. Your gulps don't really quench the thirst. The whole project is splendid, nevertheless. It's a perfect blend of electronic and shoegaze. You can definitely learn a thing or two from this going into your next session of dabbling with Ableton.
You look at Eunchae from time to time, seeing how she immerses herself into the music, sinking deep into the couch. Her fingers tap along to the beat on the fabric. Occasionally, she notices your eyes and smiles back at you.
The song ends eventually, and Eunchae immediately pauses the track before it gets the chance to move on to the next one. She sits up on the couch, leaving a faint print of her body on the cushion.
"Okay!" she utters, sliding Spotify away from her phone screen. She turns to you, making these presentation hands. "You're now well-equipped with the knowledge of shoegaze and dream pop for our next comeback!" she says grandiosely, eliciting a laugh from your lips.
"Thanks, Madam Hong," you say with a bow in your seat, and you rise to your feet finally. You've been dallying here for too long. You should leave!
Eunchae stands up along with you, though. The height difference is visible — you being shorter than her by an inch. You can smell her perfume from here — citrus-like — and you notice the small cracks in the lips. They look good on her. She looks down into your eyes. The gaze pins you in your place. Eunchae tilts her head a bit. You gulp. Is she going to say something?
With your predictive ability: "Yes, Eunchae?"
"Before you go," Eunchae utters, and she cups your face gently. Your eyes widen in shock. Her eyes soften into something quieter, instantly filling the air with tension.
Alright, wait, is she just going to kiss you? Did The Radio Dept. session leave her with an unresolved emotion? The cadence feels so wrong here. Is she really going to kiss a producer who once went against his principles for a TikTok-friendly track? (The stream numbers are juicy, still.) A shoegaze girl and an arrogant, borderline-antisocial multi-genre boy — that's fucking impossible.
Eunchae's eyes give you that assurance that she's going to kiss you, however.
Until she opens her mouth, and her breath smells like mint.
"I didn't do this just for you to do another shitass Spaghetti again, understand?" Eunchae says, and you jump. It's almost a growl, really.
You stammer, "Yeah, sure."
"Make a good song. I know you have it in you," she continues, and she just gives a kiss on your cheek — simple, just like that. Warmth blooms under your skin, akin to an orchid. The smell of her shampoo wafts into your nose momentarily as she pulls back, and you just stand there — stupid, awestruck.
She stares into your eyes, then: "I want you — so fucking bad," she says it so ardently, and you believe it.
You try to act all-charming and cocky amidst the conditional yearning. "Why not now? I'm right here," you chirp, albeit horribly trembling.
"I don't wanna fuck someone who just produced TikTok music," Eunchae replies with a chuckle. "You may leave now."
That's cruel, and to quote Hatchie to hammer the point home, to put salt in the wound:
Why did you do it?
You couldn't just laugh and walk away?
—
So, you're sitting in front of your Ableton again in silence.
Distorted guitar, dreamy vocals, distant drums — that's the task for your next outing, a B-sider. Shit's going to be revolutionary. You're going to be called a leader in the industry for digging up the formula from the nineties, just to get laid with Hong Eunchae.
You're puzzled as to why it takes this long for the genre, though. That shit's genuinely a crack.
—
A few weeks pass, and the comeback season rolls over again — mid-spring. One more time, your post-Spaghetti career is, to put it simply, on the line with this EP. Unfavorable (or polarizing) audience reception and you shall be exiled to the center of the Earth. So, no more Dubai chocolate matcha Labubu music.
Holing up inside your own apartment doesn't relieve the fact that Eunchae gave you an ultimatum — music-wise. You keep thinking about it, reminding yourself of her demand. And if we're being frank, it kind of drives you forward! You're so damn determined to create a piece of art that snobs are going to eat it up (bad reference), and to leave a lasting legacy for the next generations to come.
Of course, you talk to Eunchae from time to time since the kiss, and with another indication of honesty in rapid succession, you look forward to her appearing in your direct messages every single night.
notyoureunchae, 21:39: how you be
turnstyle, 21:40: still on it
turnstyle, 21:40: not another spaghetti trust
notyoureunchae, 21:41: nice
notyoureunchae, 21:41: ok tell me when it's done
notyoureunchae, 21:42: [Kissing Face with Closed Eyes]
Too shoegaze-ridden to reply, you just double tap the emoji, still a plain red heart. Can't help wondering about the prospects of your relationship, still. A part of you hopes that it blossoms against the current of this brutal industry.
Finally, the demo is there in your archive. No one has listened to it but you. A lot of effort was put into the production — guitars, drums, basses. You did a lot. It's a new realm that you've never explored before, and you've learned a fuckton from making this track, really.
turnstyle, 16:33: done
notyoureunchae, 16:34: splendid
turnstyle, 16:34: [Double Exclamation Mark]
notyoureunchae, 16:34: coming in tonight
turnstyle, 16:35: alright
Eunchae double taps the alright, two hearts.
Okay, to ground yourself physically for the nocturne: Hybe recording studio, with the women, the night is still young. The air smells like leather, and, to sound like LLMs, something that screams classiness. Chaewon, Sakura, and Kazuha aren't really used to the immensely immersive wall of sound. They make these confused faces over the song's duration. Still, you believe they'll get it, eventually. These three will understand why electronic-infused shoegaze is called for in their discography. You sound so fucking conceited, but it's necessary to be when you're on the brink of calamity. Yunjin looks a tad more receptive, nodding along to the slow beat. Eunchae, though, smiles, and you can't help but let yours escape your lips every time she utters yeah out of satisfaction.
"This is fucking rad," Eunchae says, removing the headphones from her ears as the song ends. "You get an Eunchae thumbs up," and Eunchae, well, gives you a thumbs up.
"You made it for Eunchae, didn't you?" Kazuha nudges, slapping your knee lightly. "Did you guys agree on a deal or something?"
Eunchae giggles. "Just told him not to make shit music, that's all." You find your sorrow in her words — mean.
Kazuha gives Eunchae these judging eyes, but perhaps finds no benefit in escalating into a fight over artistic opinions. "Fair enough," she says with a shrug.
Chaewon lets out an exasperated sigh before asking, "Okay, recording next week?"
"Yep, I'll inform you guys about the exact date by Sunday."
Chaewon gives you a nod, even if visibly tired. "Alright, that's a wrap for today. Let's meet at nine downstairs."
That's in thirty minutes, as if it concerns you in any way. The girls walk out of the studio one by one, with Yunjin trailing behind to take interest in some of the instruments. Eunchae, though, just settles herself on the couch in the corner lazily, and just like that day: it's you and her together, alone, again.
"You can just pick up the guitar. No need to tiptoe around," you state as Eunchae observes the room curiously.
"I'm just gonna wait until it's eight fifty-five, and I'll dip," Eunchae says while whipping out her phone from the pocket. "Can you play the demo again, though?"
You press play again, this time pulling the headphone jacks out of the holes. The room is instantly filled with the dreamy melody, a delicate brew of your guitar, voice, and drums. Eunchae is visibly delighted with the current product, nodding her head along to the sluggish beat of the demo. Her fingers are tapping the couch to the song's tempo.
"Could be an all-timer," she says against the noise coming from your speakers. "I knew you had it in you."
Your body relaxes into your chair at Eunchae's praise. You're ecstatic to hear the positive reception from her!
"Come sit here," Eunchae tells, patting the space beside her. You notice a shiny silver ring on her left middle finger. The leather on the couch is all creased from prolonged use through the years. That doesn't stop you from getting off your ergonomic roller chair and taking a seat by her side, however, and the cushion becomes compressed under your weight.
You lean back into the sofa, closing your eyes and letting the music envelop your body, letting its cadence soothe you. Eunchae does so as well. You can feel the shuffling on the leather beside you gently as she lies against the backrest.
"Guess your job is safe now?" Eunchae asks.
You smile, still with your eyes closed. "At least until the next comeback, yeah," you breeze, relieved. Again, if the music's poor on the next comeback, you'll get just one more chance to redeem yourself — rinse and repeat. Eunchae is at stake here, and you'll squeeze every drop of creativity out of your idea toothpaste, which is an utter fuckwit of an analogy again.
"That means I get to have you until this time next year, maybe?"
"Definitely," you reply succinctly, and everything tells you that Eunchae is smiling beside you. There's supposed to be nothing going wrong after this. Still, your brain chooses to focus on a certain part of the message.
Have you.
How does she see you, though? Since the dorm, since The Radio Dept., since the kiss — you can't quite ascertain your relationship with her.
I want you — so fucking bad.
"Eunchae," you utter, turning to her, and you point back and forth between you as her head lies idly on the backrest. "What are we?"
Eunchae sits up. Her eyes look into yours a little weakly, and you think you feel the cloud of uncertainty looming over her. The silence overstays its welcome at the relationship clarity resort. She's not ready for this question. You were too forte — too brave. It's invasive!
Eunchae opens her mouth. "I," and a pause — too long, perchance. Yeah, you were too brazen in your question. The melody is off. Still, a smirk that you can't register yet appears wide on Eunchae's face.
"My bad, I shouldn't—" and your train of speech is interrupted by Eunchae climbing on top of you sitting on the couch. Her legs are straddling your thighs firmly, and a surge of heat is crashing into you. Your brows clench. Your hands tremble. Alright, wait, what the fuck?
"I hate labels," Eunchae utters with a sly wink, and in that instant, you kind of concern about the predicament of emotional ambiguity you've gotten yourself into with Eunchae.
You have to give in to your lust, though.
So, between the loud walls of music in your (actually, Hybe's) studio. You're being restrained by the girl who's a little taller than you — an inch — the girl who made the puking noise in your last record, the girl who has been putting your heart into a whirlwind for the last few weeks. Your emotions are neither exactly reciprocated nor resolved. It is incumbent on getting at least one of them as soon as possible. The vagueness from this woman is killing you!
Eunchae doesn't physically stop just that, however.
She starts grinding promptly on top of your lap while staring dead into your eyes — somehow romantic with that deathly gaze — creating this punishing friction that courses through your entire body. You feel her heat throbbing against your lap. Your cock pulsates inside your pants wildly, begging to be freed from the fabric confines. Your eyes roll into the back of your head — kind of overstated but almost true still. Your hands start exploring her body as hers turn your physique into a playground. She mostly lingers on your chest, but with the dilation in her pupils when she looks at your mouth, the tease on your lips becomes apparent.
"Fuck, shit," you utter feebly, barely able to draft your voice into coherent words, and there it is, Eunchae plunges her left middle finger into your mouth. As cued, you start lavishing on the digit greedily. There's this taste of her skin — floral from the handwash. There's this metallic tang to the ring, and you're unsure if the element is going to poison you atop Eunchae's mental barrage. There's her nail grazing your tongue softly. There's her cute little moan leaving her lips into your ears.
And with all the sensations on your body, you feel like a—
"Bitch," Eunchae scolds, and you whine pathetically into her finger. You're a bitch — Hong Eunchae's bitch. "Do you like being called that?" she inquires knowingly. Of course, you'll say—
"Yes, yes, yes, fuck," you rasp against the undercurrent of music and Eunchae's left middle finger (too specific), mind cannot focus on a single thing anymore. "I'm a bitch." You're wholly overloaded at this instant by the entire ordeal, and your entire brain is reinforcing the notion of you being her bitch.
Not until now, you just notice the fabric that is her jeans rubbing against your sweatpants — good friction. Your hands slip under her olive black shirt — no bra. Her nipples harden against your fingers eagerly, yearning to be touched, ruined, and stirred. You imagine they're brown. Eunchae moans into the air that's thick with burning tension mindlessly with the euphoria on her frame, not before she probes you with another question, still.
"Whose bitch, huh?"
The voices that leave your mouth are now unintelligible. Just: "I'm your bitch, Eunchae," comes out firmly. "I'm yours."
Eunchae scoffs before pulling her finger away from the inside of your mouth. You notice a clear string of your spit connecting your lips and her digit, and you chase, only for her to pull away even further with that fucking devilish smile. She wiggles her finger in a no-no motion.
"Make me cum before eight fifty-five, and I might give you something," Eunchae commands; that's ten minutes left. Okay, wow, time passes pretty fast. Maybe she'll give you the emotional resolution you've been pursuing this whole time. So, you begin thrusting up onto her covered crotch. Eunchae's moans grow louder and less restrained this way. Her eyes flutter shut. Her fingers tremble on your skin, and you're more than elated to please her like this.
God, everything just feels so fucking right.
Eunchae's moans are still climbing the scale, each one indicating the proximity to her climax that she gets closer and closer on top of your lap. For you, you've never thought dry-humping would make you cum; you've never thought dry-humping would be this incredulously hot, and in the present, now, you're about to wet your pants with your cum!
"Goddamn, I'm close," Eunchae hums, eyes locking with yours, and in that instant, you feel some kind of raw, genuine connection with her, even if it's so short-lived. Perhaps it's the side of her that she has been hiding for the past few weeks. The kiss doesn't follow it, but there's surely something behind her eyes — vulnerability?
Your body feels the surge of orgasm running through, and as jokey as it is, fuck your trousers, really. You're gonna drive home with cumstains on them like a real man, and Eunchae's gonna ride the van back to her dorm with squirtstains on her jeans like a real woman. Fuck it if the other members see it. The climaxes of your bodies edge closer with each second that passes, time to cum!
Eunchae whines, "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fu—"
"Hello, I'm just here to—oh my fucking God!"
You open your eyes to see Eunchae scrambling over herself and Yunjin standing at the door that is ajar.
Shit.
Fuck.
Shit.
Fuck.
Her mouth is opening in sheer shock — not disgusted, just utterly, completely shocked. You freeze, of course you can't move. Your cock aches badly in your pants to no avail, and you're pretty certain that Eunchae's cunt is throbbing with need as well. Fucking Yunjin's here to ruin your day (as if you'll get any psychological clarity once you cum with Eunchae). Your hands detach themselves from Eunchae's pert chest. Your bulge is painfully visible. Your mind is shattered.
Shit.
Fuck.
Yunjin closes her mouth, gulps, and walks out of the door frame as if trying to bury the event she just saw two meters below, leaving you and Eunchae in the awkward silence that's measly decorated with your decelerating heartbeats and ragged breaths.
"I should go," Eunchae quickly hides the awkwardness, though it doesn't really do much. It's fucking messy right now. She stands up with a small, visible wet spot on her crotch before she hastily exits the room.
The music is still bouncing off the walls of Hybe's studio, and you just sit there — stupid, emotionally drained, and alone. It's almost nine. The room almost reeks of sex and you and Eunchae.
God, you know real life doesn't always have resolutions, but bloody fucking hell, you'd sacrifice your soon-to-be rejuvenated career for one with Eunchae right now.
(Would've been a glorious end to the first part of a story, wouldn't it? Maybe the gods will be kind to you.)
Categories | mistress!Gawon, sub!reader, body writing
You're always missing her, in some way, some form. No hour of the day is spent not lamenting her absence, although temporary. Whatever happens, Lee Gawon is always on your mind.
If you didn't want to upset her, you'd say how much you envy the staff surrounding her for most of the day. They get to be with her longer than a lustful night, attending to her hair, face, and lips. They have the blessing to see her behind the scenes, and not merely on a digital screen, from which she seems so close, but so far away.
How do you, with your role as her shadow, stray apart from her?
Yeah, that’s right: you're kind of her shadow. No, scratch that—you are her shadow, from head to toe. Usually, with other celebrities of esteemed status like Gawon's, it's the girl who gets coined as male celebrity's tail slash girlfriend. Male wrestler's fuckbuddy. Male idol's rumored fling. Male actor’s femme fatale lead. But with Gawon, the media holds a different kind of respect. If you look past the camera flashes and headlines, you’re almost certain it’s fear. She made sure to instill that through her years in the spotlight.
The press tried to invent Lee Gawon. But she made clear she wasn’t just Chloe Lee the dancer or the lookalike of a boy group member she now overshadows. Gawon is her own person—she's the ambassador, model, actress, founder, and so much more. Any name attached to her is lucky to even be within her proximity.
Perhaps that is why the press, both local and international, only know you as miss Lee’s boyfriend. You’re her accessory, could be a bracelet with how you hang on her forearm at events. You’re her bodyguard, looming over her when you gather her stuff from her Porsche. Hell, with the way she’s got you wrapped around her finger, you’re her pet.
It's safe to say that you might like it that way, as humiliating as it sounds.
That's how you felt when she asked you to call her "Mistress."
You | 9:41 PM, SAT | Gawon
You | 9:41 PM, SAT | where are you
Mistress | 9:43 PM, SAT | Nearly there, babe.
Mistress | 9:49 PM, SAT | I'm here :)
You practically rush to the door. Your hands trembling, you open the door of the mansion you share with her, and there stands Gawon.
She's wrapped up in the most expensive furs, dressed from head to toe in the newest line she's representing. Her ruby red lips are painted with Prada lipstick, enough to match the color of blood.
"Mistress." You bow. Fur meets your rough skin as you help Gawon out of the coat. You're always there to help her out. You're hers, aren't you? That's your job.
"Sweetheart," Gawon says back, smiling. She eases herself out of the furs and kisses you on your mouth. "How have you been?"
You can't say anything understandable if she's holding your chin like that, or when her shadowed eyes are coaxing you into a battle of wills. "G-good," you stammer out, nevertheless.
"Just good?"
"I missed you all day, Mistress. When you came home, it all became perfect."
Gawon nods understandingly. "I thought so," she remarks, with a soft nuzzle of your nose.
All that's left on Gawon's tall, slender body is her black suit and blazer. The tie looks especially attractive on her, but you have a feeling that it doesn't solely belong to her neckline—it has other unfulfilled purposes. Other plans dreamed up by Gawon in that gorgeous head.
You're correct, for one of those signs is her heels remaining on her feet. Gawon takes good care of her shoes. They’re polished by well-paid maids and kept safely in her closet. So if she keeps them on during the night, it means something. They’re the prophecy foretelling your fate for the night.
"Did you see my pictures, baby boy?" asks Gawon expectantly. She's walking down the carpet to the living room, where soft cushions are prepared for her to rest her busy frame on.
Seen them? You savored them. Consumed them as a wolf would a lone rabbit. Held onto them like a lifeline, like you were on the edge of a cliff.
As her boyfriend, you got to have a sneak peek of her new covers and pictorials, and the most recent one she came home from is your favorite yet. Probably the best, if you really think about it.
It's the colors differing perfectly together that seal it for you. The red background matches her lips, posed in serious, plump lines before a lipstick curled in her hands. However, there's the ebony darkness of her hair and makeup to take notice of, and the untainted white of her suit. They're all strong colors, portrayed steadily by one of the most learned models in the industry. You're proud of how she posed for it; the result looks beautiful. She is beautiful.
"I… I loved them, Mistress," you admit. Your cheeks fill with colored adoration. "I looked at them all day."
"Thank you. I brought home the lipstick they got me, and I want to try it with you."
"M-Mistress?"
Gawon chuckles prettily. When she smiles, the intimidating aura of her face dissolves into a fox-like adorableness. Her eyes crinkle and her brows, usually dark and strong, knit together in laughter. She could be adorable, honestly. But of course the departure of the sweet moment is hastened, with only a tiny smile remaining post mortem.
"Not in that way," she clarifies. "Just… trust me on this, please?"
You're hesitant. What would she do with you? What if you don't like it?
"If you don't want to try it, we won't," says Gawon softly.
"I want to do it," you say all too quickly. Because there isn’t a thing you won’t do for her. Not one.
"Thank you. Bedroom?"
"Yes, Mistress."
The paced clicks of Gawon's white heels follow you from behind. She strolls through the mansion as if its luxuries hold no extraordinariness that sets it apart from a flea market rag doll. Then you remember: that's Gawon’s reality. The tiger skin carpet and chandeliers are things she's worked hard for and lived with for years only barely longer than the ones she spent climbing up to her status now. She comes from old money but now it overflows in several accounts. She was born rich and will die rich.
Speaking of, climbing all the way upstairs in heels seems tedious. There's a reason why your special bedroom is on the first floor.
There's also a reason why the bedroom is this wide, and has a closet of that size. And it doesn't store just clothes.
"Lie down, honey," coos Gawon. "And take off your clothes."
You obey, and she immediately undoes the knot of her white tie. You shiver, although you've become acquaintances with the centralized wind of your home and Gawon's. Her tie slithers around your joined wrists. It traps them behind one of the decorative bars of the headboard. You don't bother struggling; you know your place well enough to understand it's below her.
"You're okay with your feet being tied, too, I presume?"
She's done it millions of times: holding your arms and legs back until they're numb under her control, using them to keep you still. But still, Gawon wants to know if you're comfortable.
"Y-yes, Mistress," you reply.
Gawon smiles appreciatively. The blazer slips off her arms, leaving her in a formal tube top with transparent straps. She cares not for the price of the designer blazer, especially not when she's tying their sleeves around your feet to the footboard. Sometimes her resourcefulness is way off the charts.
"What are you gonna do to me?" you ask. There's a perfect blend of fear and excitement in your trembling voice. You can see the way it turns Gawon on; she bites her lower lip as if she craved to draw blood as red as her lipstick from it.
Gawon lowers herself beside your ear, her words leaving your hands and spine chilled:
"Remind you who you belong to."
"Mistress—"
"Shhh."
The young woman leaves kisses along your naked thighs. There's a trail of red shaped to the form of her heart-resembling lips. It marks the path of her love.
It makes you shake in anticipation, and she's only building up more of the suspense. As if rehearsed, perfected days prior to this, she parts your legs a little.
"Such a pretty cock," she says. "It's all mine, no?"
Hard to confirm when she's kissing its underside, but you do it anyway. Whatever circumstance a situation throws at you, you fight it to answer Gawon.
Her pink tongue caresses your sensitive dick. She licks and laps and sucks, and she's not even sucking it yet. It makes you feel weak, but you always are with her. It's nothing new, nothing out of the ordinary, but it still makes your heart burn with lust.
Gawon licks a sharp stripe under your cock, making your breath catch on nothing. Her lipstick decorates your tip as she suckles on it. She remains determined to caress what's beneath your cockhead with gentle laps.
"So delicious," she murmurs. "Think I want to ride it, baby boy. But I think your cute face will do first."
"Yes please, Mistress."
"Say that you're mine first."
"I'm yours." It's nothing short of the truth.
Gawon brings out her lipstick. You gasp when the glossy tip glides along your thighs in measured lines. So that's what she was talking about.
You look down. She's written "Mistress' Baby Boy" on your skin. And she's only getting started.
"Say it again," she orders. Her breath is hot; she’s getting off on this as much as you are. There’s a reason she started this gamble.
"I'm yours, Mistress."
There she goes again, writing on your body another varied form of possession. Soon, she's decorated your legs with several of them: prettiest boy; Mistress' only; most perfect cock. You appreciate the flattery nevertheless.
"Good.” She's done with writing on you. For now.
Her dress pants slip down her milky legs. You watch with morbid fascination. Watch how the silk drags down paleness that almost matches its color. See how the bareness of her full thighs release themselves from her panties, and close around your head as she sits on your face.
You know what to do, and you know exactly how Gawon likes it. You lift your chin higher to lick at her core, but not quite letting your tongue enter her. She moans instantly, her weight breaking down harder on your face. You're glad to be burdened by it. It's more of a blessing, really, when you consider how much she's dripping, as if she were waiting for this all day.
Maybe she was.
You tease her silken hole and slide the tip of your tongue up her slit until it tickles her clit. Gawon squirms down on you in response. The hold of her thighs around your head becomes stronger, and you take that as an obvious sign that you should obviously go on. Maybe even take it up a notch, which is why you go through with sucking on her bundle of nerves rather than merely considering it.
It's one of Gawon's few weak spots, speaking in both sexual and industrial terms. But of course, you know all about it. How could you not when she pushes her core onto your face harder?
"Oh fuck, baby boy," she moans. "You're so good to me."
When she tastes like heaven, you're bound to be. Her beautiful taste pours into your mouth and has you licking inside her grasping hole for more. There, you lap your tongue against her textured walls to find some of her weak spots. Press against it when you successfully find one, causing Gawon to suffocate you with her creamy thighs and stealing your breath with how she weighs her pussy down on you.
If this is how you die, it's completely fine by you. Having Gawon's glorious ass sitting on your face and her delicious cunt grabbing your tongue for it to stay are all you need to go out happy. Savor it all. Caress her clit with your tongue right before capturing it between your lips and assaulting it with violent suction. Let saliva and juices drip down on you with no care in the world—this, this right here is heaven. Only difference between your mistress and the heaven in the clouds is that here, the pleasure matches one you could go to hell for.
Gawon dizzies you with her swaying hips. "Fuck, baby," she says loudly. Playing with her tits below the white tube top, she gyrates her core on your mouth harder. "I'm so so close, baby boy."
Her folds parted to welcome your eager tongue. They close the entrance to imprison you. It's a trap that you enjoy being tricked into as you draw several forms inside and on her sensitive nub.
In a way, you've trapped Gawon, too. For once, the tables are turned around and you have her under your control although you're underneath her. Your mouth is a dangerous predicament, and you still knowingly assault her with it.
Just look at the way she gazes down upon you, with shadowed, hooded eyes, and hear the way she whispers, "Please, baby, that's it—keep fucking my pussy like that, Mistress is so close, she's going to cum all over your pretty little face—"
It only takes one-after-the-other suckling on her clit for Gawon to bite what she barks. Juices no longer drip only into your mouth, but everywhere. Unladylike screams fill the room as she squirts her delicious juices on your face. The pillow suffers some of the damage, but it's your neck and chin that's fully attacked. You have to close your eyes just in case her cum wanders too far.
Nevertheless, you don't stop tonguefucking her.
"Yes, yes, that's it," Gawon gasps. Her little broken stammers are everything to live for. "Keep doing that, yes… oh shit, you're so good at this—
"Shit, fuck, too much!"
Usually, you'd stop at the time she says that, but there's too many pros to continue. If you just kept sucking at her perfect pussy, you'd garner more of her cum, plus the possibility of her thighs actually crushing your head. So, albeit her cries, you continue.
"Oh god, fuck." Gawon throws her head back. "Alright, I'll let you have this one, baby boy. But if you do, I won't, fuck, get to ride your pretty cock."
That's an insanely clever way to get you to stop. If there's anything you craved more than her juices in your mouth, it's them on your cock instead.
Gawon giggles in satisfaction. She's sliding off your face, graceful even after getting eaten out. She's graceful anyway even in the most odd situations. It's her brand, to be brief: being the closest thing to a goddess arriving in the mortal world, being the democratic Aphrodite. She still carries it in the bedroom.
Her throne is the little space between your thighs and your cock, which allows her to be so close to engulfing you in herself, but not quite. The smile on her face tells you that yes, she does indeed know how it works, which just so happens to leave you both breathless and in awe of the woman in front of you.
"How should I deal with you, sweetheart?" Gawon asks. She wraps her fingers around your rod and jerks it up and down.
"Please, mistress…" You try to say more, but you end up silent.
"Yes? Oh, I see. You want me to fuck your big cock with my thighs, huh?"
As if to demonstrate, Gawon presses her beautiful legs around your dick. Her white, soft flesh stimulates you and has you thrusting up into them. The slick from her earlier orgasm helps your pumps smoothen, and coats your shaft with more than just your own precum.
"Yes, mistress," you say.
Gawon smiles and tightens the hold of her thighs together. She pushes you down on the bed, telling you that this is a job she'll lead by herself, as she does everything, and bounces on your lap. Her perfect ass ripples as she does, and you can feel her slick folds tease your sensitive flesh. If you're not mistaken, that's her clit grinding on your erection while she fucks you with her thighs, too.
"Gawon, fuck."
"You're forgetting who I am here, sweetheart." She says it gently, but her eyes tell a different story. They tell you of a warning. "What do you call me again?"
That slip-up was on you. You were too wrapped in the embrace of her heat along that you dropped the honorifics. "Mistress, I'm sorry."
"Good. I knew you could do it." Gawon kisses you. "I think my baby boy deserves to fill his mistress up now. Make her cum around his big cock.”
No more abstinence. No more holding back. Those are habits whose deaths took a lot of time, but hey, here you are now. You yield to the temptation. You forget about your dignity, your shame, your life. You pour out every dirty little thing you have thought of doing to Gawon while you stared at her pictures, and she takes it gladly.
Your cock is lodged in her cunt immediately. You could almost scream. She’s completely tense around your girth but oh-so-wet. And oh-so-fucking-tight. Gawon is the definition of sex itself—it's in the way she does everything: the bounce of her thunderous thighs as her legs weaken from the stretch, her quivering yet sinful moan, her hard nipples. Her toned, creamy thighs locking you in for the ride is just a bonus.
You take the labor to pull yourself up and kiss her all around her beautiful face, worshipping her as you would a deity (oh yes, Gawon counts as a deity, with all that shiny long hair, strong brows, and sculpted nose. The only thing anchoring her to this mortal realm is you.) Her sweet lips are addictive, but a close competitor is her collarbone. It’s sharp and deep, looking like it can cut through your mouth if you dared kiss it. That’s a risk you’re willing to take. You can lick and nibble at that and her neck all day. But even feeling it with your thumb feels forbidden—even in sex, in the dark of the night, she holds an aura that prohibits anyone from touching her, and if anyone gets a chance to, they're extremely lucky.
She reminds you of how lucky you are everyday. Not everyone gets to fuck the Lee Gawon.
You live for the sounds she makes as you suck without boundary on her breasts. Your tongue laces her neck and jaw with slick saliva, one of the steps in your desperate plan to get approval from her. Her appreciative moan, although hot, still lacks for you. So, you draw your hips far backwards and drive them deeper. Gawon gasps in surprise, her clit swollen and pulsing against you.
You can feel her breaths grow shorter, rougher, and you go on with licking and sucking, multitasking with how you're still steadily thrusting into her beautiful cunt. God, she really does need to remind you of your place. You forget yourself when she fucks you like this. She makes you want more.
"S-so down bad for me, huh?" Gawon laughs. The sharp protrusion of her wrist bumps into your temple as she strokes your hair. She does it gracefully, adoringly, as if she were holding a pet. It’s damn close. "Fuck my pussy like that, show me no other boy can fuck me like you can."
She moans at your cock twitching inside her. There’s a glint of amusement in her brown eyes. "Oh, you like that? Being talked to like you're my fucking slave? Is that what you want?"
Your cheeks are red. She's figured you out. She always does. It's her habit to pick you apart and put your pieces together in a picture you never knew you could form.
She starts to move her curved hips in between gasps of gratification. Her hard nipples press against your chest. You groan beneath her and she clings to you harder, rocking your member inside her cunt desperately. The hard shape of her abs shows how much she’s working for it. They’re flexed and drenched in sweat.
“Mistress,” you whisper into her hair. Pepper the white land of her neck with swift kisses, withholding the urge to bite down on it because you remember your place now. You remember what this is for. “You’re so fucking wet.”
The two of you grind and moan against each other, desperate body upon another desperate body. Her strokes rhythmically slam you against the mattress. You would have groaned painfully if her lips weren’t on top of yours. As soon as they mush against them, she devours you. And it feels literal; her teeth sink into your lower tier while her tongue actively laps at your mouth, as if she were trying to collect your complete taste without leaving a drop behind. She’s eating you alive. Each moan mixed with her heavy pants of pleasure gets lost in the eclipse of your lips.You’re starting to get breathless, but you’re not passing up the opportunity to stay inside Gawon, or to hear her beautiful sounds extracted from her pretty mouth and caused by the steady thrusts.
You can feel her pussy shiver around you. She’s so close. You don’t dare fight the restriction on your wrists but it’s in this moment that you desperately wish you could touch her. Your mouth can only do so much. Leaving hickeys all over her skin can’t possibly match the feeling of squeezing her ass, pulling her closer, or holding her miniscule waist.
But you’re hers—you’ll trade your pleasure for Gawon’s even if it’s killing you.
You let her ride you for a few more, desperate moments until she collapses. Her cunt pulses through each heavy wave of her orgasm. She moans loud next to your ear when you chase your own high. The sticky mess of your orgasms stains the expensive threadcount.
But soon, Gawon’s French tip nails stop digging into your back painfully. Your wrists are free from their fabric prison. Your mistress is finally spent. She rests her cheek on the flat of your shoulder and sighs in satisfaction.
In the window, you’re able to watch how she fixes herself properly on your lap and closes her eyes. Gawon is yours as much as you are hers.
