Peach Garden

Yeah, the best possible thing you could do is ignore her, open your apartment window, and throw yourself out. Or, better yet, pick her up, and toss her instead, or fuck, get your hands around her throat and squeeze—if only you weren't certain that she'd be so happy when you did, that she’d lift an eyebrow, flash that smug grin, all delighted that you've added a new dimension to whatever doomed tangle the two of you are in, and say:

"Didn't know you had it in you."

So you just slump.

Drop your bags, your jacket on the floor—whatever, you'll get to them later. Walk past her, like if you don't acknowledge her existence you can delay the inevitable for a touch longer, stop her from digging any deeper into your brain. But if there's anything you know about Ningning—she has all the patience in the world.

Happy to keep raiding your kitchen, letting the milk sit on her lips, timing it to the exact second you slip up and look her way—then licking it clean with one swipe of her tongue.

You ache more than you'd ever willingly admit.

Not that she'd have any trouble making you.

It’s who she is: Queen of dark corners and thick fucking air that suffocates your lungs. A tiny little nightmare half your size, always one careless glance away from splitting you open like it’s nothing.

She doesn’t even need to try.

Hair a messy shawl down to her shoulders, lips a light pink hue. Traces of eyeshadow, curled lashes, chipped nail polish. She clearly had something far more important to deal with earlier—you're just another box to check off today’s to-do list.

She pushes off your fridge. It’s inhuman. She knows exactly where your eyes will go.

You can’t stop it, you’re staring straight at her tits the moment her body shifts—the tiny crop top clinging snug, doing obscene fucking things to all the soft weight underneath. And below all that, just a scrap of panties. Nothing else. Makes you complicit the second you look.

"Had fun playing hero?" The glass makes a hollow ring when she sets it aside. "Yuha's been blowing up the group chat since you left her—oh, forty minutes ago?"

You freeze when you reach your kitchen island. Lean back, and wait for her to come to you. It’s the only scrap of resistance you can still muster at this point.

"Sounded fun—going to the movies, holding hands in the dark, hugging her close when she got scared. Did you like the outfit she was wearing?"

It only takes one step.

She crowds you against the counter, hands planted on either side of your waist, caging you in. Even her smile is pissing you off. Her top’s cut low, and it hits you like a vision—this exact angle that's been burned behind your eyelids.

One thin strap still clings to that dainty shoulder. The collarbone you’ve licked and sucked and worshipped more times than you can count staring back at you.

And it’s slipping lower still, a small shift and the whole top will give—tits spilling free, nipples begging for your mouth.

She leans in, a whisper sticking against your skin that she stamps in with a kiss. "I helped pick it out for her, you know."

Your breath catches. You groan. You need to move, shove her away, tell her that this needs to end tonight; the guilt, the depravity is a mountain looming over any blackmail she hangs over your head.

But you can't do anything. Not until you have her permission.

Instead your hips twitch towards her, and your cock strains underneath your pants, hitting her belly like a trained dog.

She pushes forward, a shoulder into your sternum, backing you up as far as you can go into the countertop, and reaches down.

Her fingers skate up the inside of your thigh, and the strap of her top drifts down until she's exposed and she doesn't seem to mind at all.

No, she's flawless. Devastating. Pushes her body against yours and her tits are so full and plush and squash against your chest and you need her to fucking stop before—

She squeezes you tight, and you inhale sharp, choking on her scent.

And it fucks you up, because she smells exactly like Yuha.

"Yeah," she says, twisting her wrist, her grip, careless with how she fists your cock, your balls through your slacks. "She let me borrow her perfume as a thank you.”

Ningning leans, grinding the fragrance deeper down your throat.

“Isn't she so nice? Isn't this so nice? You get to think about her while you're with me."

She doesn't expect an answer.

But it drives you mad—she tilts her head so you can see how it clings to her; her throat, her collarbone, her tits. It’s sweet, it’s soft. It’s wrong. It makes your cock throb.

And you'd touch her, reach for her, run your hands over that smooth skin, the soft curves; take a handful of her in your palms and squeeze her right back, twist that nipple and tell her you can dole out the same amount of punishment—but Ningning drives her shoulder into you again, fists clenching around you, and pulls, and it's with deft hands and practiced fingers that your belt clinks open, the button and the zipper fall apart with it.

"Turn around."

For the first time, you manage some small protest. "Yizhuo."

She smiles at that, tricks you into thinking it’s fond. Glances low and yanks down your briefs. Frees your cock and lets it slap against her palm. Hard, throbbing, undeniable evidence of everything she does to you.

And she is—what the fuck is she to you? Your girlfriend's friend. Her senior, her pseudo-older sister.

Your client. Or, your boss.

Or just—she's the person that caught you sneaking around backstage—bored, horny, stupid.

You're the help, security—company’s hired muscle. Already neck-deep in the shit by dating Yuha; and you dug your grave and carved your own tombstone the second Ningning caught you in their dressing room—panties smothered over your face, cock in your fist, chasing a peak you couldn’t quite summit.

That was the first time you gave her everything she wanted.

She was smiling then too. Like she'd been waiting for the excuse.

She looks back up at you, fixated on your lips.

"Yizhuo?" She mocks you, and reaches up with her other hand, pressing it to your lips. You let her in, as easy as you let her into your home, let her force two fingers in until you gag, until she has you choking on her digits when they tickle the back of your throat.

She twists her fingers in your mouth, has you drooling down them, leaving them slick with your own spit.

And then she drags them out, pulls the strings of your saliva down to your cock, and runs her hand over it in one, decisive, torturous pump.

"Yizhuo is what my friends call me," she says, taking you from head to base, and slathering the underside, underneath your balls. "Are we friends now?"

You choke down another breath when she starts to stroke, achingly slow, always patient. You buckle under her gaze and it has you confessing, "No."

"I didn't think so," she tuts. "Don't make me repeat myself again. Turn around."

Ningning steps away, gives you just enough room to move. To show her your back, make yourself vulnerable to her.

Let her know she could do anything at all and you'd just take it.

And it's fucking embarrassing when she reaches around and finds you so humiliatingly hard. You know the look on your face must be even worse, because Ningning's laughing.

"My, my, my," she says, clicking her tongue against her teeth as she gets the full measure of you. Taking her time—she needs it to navigate the length of you—revelling in every second. "So hard already? You look so ridiculous in my hand."

And then:

"This would snap tiny, pretty Yuha in half," and it does its job, provokes you, but every chance of resistance is drained from you when she wrenches her hand tight and takes your cock rough from base to tip. "How nice of me, doing both of you a favour."

Your knuckles go white against the counter, there's plenty you could do, but with Ningning all you can ever manage is brace yourself—ride it out, let her have her way.

She keeps herself busy, crafting slow, deliberate strokes. Getting off on this, her skin so deliriously hot against you, burning, like she knows—knows if she twists her grip like this she can rip out something raw from your throat; knows if she rushes her palm down it'll make you hiss through your teeth.

And she knows if she squeezes and pumps you fast—filling your kitchen with these slick, messy noises, this rhythmic schlick-schlick-schlick—you'll call her name again and she'll have to bite into your shoulder and warn you: "What did I say about calling me Yizhuo?"

You close your eyes. It's just a hand—it could be any other girl, you spend your days in proximity of so many of them.

"I'm the only one for you," she tells you, finishing a thought you didn't realise she could hear. "No other girl would know how to use you right."

She pulls a moan out of you when she palms your tip, smearing the beads there, before gliding her hand down—and you hate that it sounds like an affirmation.

"They wouldn’t even know where to start,” she continues on, steady torment. “They’d need you to teach them, guide their small hands, be their first big strong man.”

You open your eyes, catching her other hand tugging your pants down and under your ass; your shirt’s already unbuttoned, dropping down your shoulders and leaving your chest bare, free for her nails to mark up and dig into.

"Yuha sure as hell expects that." She laughs again and it's evil and she's on her toes now, sucking something hard into the line of your throat—and it's going to leave a mark, something you won't be able to hide, will need to explain away to your girlfriend, to the other girls, to the company in the morning, but that's the last thing in your mind when Ningning adds her teeth and makes it hurt.

"Fuck," spills out, and you're seething, seeing red, gripping into the counter so hard you could make a dent.

"You love it." She kisses into your new scar, soothes you, the sick kind of tenderness only she can grant, and it makes you bend into her, lets her fold her body over yours, and her words hit you like a healing balm, the feeling of her body slotting over yours, enveloping warmth, tits slick with sweat squashed against your back, leg hooking around your knee like she's trying to crawl inside you, lips so close to yours and reflex has you turning to meet them.

"Please."

"Just this once," she tells you, and you’re so thankful when the pace of her hand builds, and her nails start to draw a circle around your nipple, and you twist your head far enough that she can breathe in every sigh and pained gasp she drags out of you before swallowing it all in a kiss.

She leads it with her tongue, and you're falling into her, into her grip, into her mouth, into the soft wet of her lips against yours, and there's so much she's doing, forcing on you—pumping, squeezing hard, pinching, twisting your nipple, and there's something in this that you want to deny so much: her control, her promise of where she can take you, it feels so good now, she can make it feel even better later.

Until she bites into your bottom lip, and you’re tasting copper, and she pulls away.

"Baby," she says, with a last, messy peck on your chin, the strands of saliva hanging there, another binding she has on you. "You're so pathetic."

You groan when she gets close, thigh brushing the back of yours, knee splitting between your legs to keep you spread open. Grinding herself into you, forcing you still with a single hand wrapped around you, and you can hear how hot both of you are—the squelch of your spit, your slick making your cock all glossy.

Her fingers tighten—just enough to make your knees buckle. And she builds, this aching pace, she knows the rhythm, knows how to make your skin crawl.

"You're a pervert, a filthy degenerate," she lists off, breath scalding the shell of your ear. "Bet you were sweet and gentle with Yuha on your little date. Calling her baby, telling her how pretty she looks in that dress. Kissed her like a good boyfriend would."

You wouldn’t dare, it’d be fucking audacious, to read anything into it—believe there’s a twinge of jealousy there, envy at her own junior. Pure disaster. Your brain’s already too fried to untangle the implications of that anyway.

"Tell me, tell me how good you were to her," she says, and she twists on your nipple again, pierces you with her nails. "Or were you too distracted counting down the minutes until you could come crawling home to me."

"I was good," you rasp; you're barely keeping it together. There's no hiding anything now—your body, your moans, it all betrays you any time you try to do anything other than what she wants—and if that wasn't enough it's the sound of her stroking you, so goddamn loud it rings in your ears and laughs at your whines. "I am good to her."

She punishes you with these fast, brutal strokes, and snaps, "Liar. How can you say that when you love this so much?"

"I—"

But you can't finish, Ningning gives your nipple one last tug and slides her hand around your body, dragging a nail down your lower back, engraving a path that ends right at your ass, between your cheeks.

"Yizh—"

"That's the third time," she grunts, and pushes her finger against the tight ring of your asshole. "The third time you've tried to call me by my name. But that's not what you get to call me, is it?"

Something raw, something that doesn't belong to you surges from your throat when she pushes, finger tight against your rim, and it's just a fingertip inside but it has your knees banging against the marble in front of you and you're not sure what hurts worse but you're absolutely sure of what feels best.

"Don't say another fucking word, unless it's the one I want to hear," she says, and she's grinding herself harder against your leg, fucking herself on your thigh, soaked panties dragging hot and slippery over your skin. She's so warm, like a sick, twisted embrace and through the corner of your eye you can see her—the delirious grin on her face, the violent delight she's taking from you and you can't help but think it:

She's so gorgeous.

Ningning pushes until she's knuckle-deep inside you, your whole world narrowing to this single point. It’s sharp, burning, before melting into something disgustingly good as she curls it, squeezing that spot that rips the word out of you like it was always waiting underneath your tongue:

"Mommy."

And she chuckles, twists her finger, driving it all the way in, forcing you to fuck yourself deeper into her hand.

"Mommy, it's—"

"I know," she kisses it into your neck, licks it across your cheek, tastes the tears that you can't stop leaking from the corner of your eyes. "Mommy's got you."

She fucks you like this—like there's no time left, like either of you might drop dead any second now so there's only this—fucking your ass like it's the light at the end of the tunnel, having you fuck her hand just the same.

“This is all you’re good for, isn’t it?” Her breath hitches, she pants against you, wet, parted lips sliding across your cheek. “Being a good slut, a fucktoy for your Mommy, isn’t that right?”

And you’re already so far gone, air’s going thin, it’s getting worse with every press, and she just keeps pushing deeper, punishing you into this merciless pace.

“All of this—all of you. Your cock, your tight little asshole—mine, mine, mine—say it.”

“Yes—fuck—it’s yours—it’s yours—” You’re whining, exhaling hard with every stroke, there’s nowhere else to go, just do your best to tell her whatever she wants to hear. “Always been yours.”

And it's pressure building, cooking inside of you, the marks she left on you, the pain you'll remember—blood in your mouth, your shoulder, red on your chest, blooming around your asshole, she's fucking banging you into the counter now, and whatever squeeze your ass has on her finger she's matching around your cock.

"Come on, baby, just for me," she coos, and you try to close your eyes but her voice stops you in place—"Don't look away—look me in the eyes, so I can see you. See who you really are—a filthy boy who gets off on getting broken by his Mommy."

So you look, stare, see that glassy wash of pure joy, the hunger there, how she's living for this, dominating, being in control of you, punishing you with this ruthless, this rough, this brutal kind of fucking.

“Nothing will ever make you feel as good as me. You want me to make you feel so good, don’t you? Suck your worthless cock. Fuck every drop of cum out of you—take every single inch,” Ningning tells you so easily, sincerely, like it’s already planned, destined, it’s all in the cards, and—“I can do it for you, baby, I can do it all.”

She shoves her whole body into your back, fucking her finger deeper; it’s insane, all of it—her digit curling inside your ass, stretching you out, finding all sorts of angles to exploit.

“I’ve got a surprise. Mommy’s got a gift for you. A nice, big toy. A brand new cock. I’ll show my cute little slut how to really fuck.”

That makes you cry out something guttural, makes your cock throb painfully in her grip, another thick bead of you sliding over her knuckles.

“You'd love that, wouldn’t you? Love to have Mommy ruin your tight, tiny asshole. Stretch it out wide.” Ningning bites it into your ear, “Greedy.”

“Yes—please—Mommy—fuck—please—” You’re sputtering, it’s all too much, a miracle you’re still somehow coherent, just repeating the same begs, the same pleas, the same prayers because you're feeling it—feeling her everywhere. “Please—my ass—I can’t take it—”

And that's your excuse—your out, this is all just a bodily reaction, inbuilt instinct, natural chemistry, biology, whatever the fuck.

She's stroking every sensitive nerve of your cock; fucking you deep, reaching mind-numbing points you could never dream to find yourself each time she invades your asshole and god, Jesus, fuck, Mommy, she's forcing a second finger inside you, splitting you open raw and—

"Cum for me, cum on my finger, cum all over Mommy’s hand, do it for me—now."

Maybe it's not so bad that it feels so fucking good to not be ashamed, not try to hide, you can embrace who you really are around her.

Maybe it’s right to listen to her—do what she says, tell her you’ll be good and obedient for her; your body’s already ahead of you, so, so close, every nerve of yours in a chorus of agreement with how she’s fucking you.

It's for the best—it's what you need—let her have her way, let her call you her bitch, her slut, her tight, perfect hole, let her get deep in your guts, let her pull every shameful drop of cum from your cock—it's protection, it's your job, that's what it is.

You're protecting Yuha, protecting your relationship, so it's fine, it's okay, it’s okay, she can fuck you like this, make you cum, and later when she swallows your cock whole and rides you until you’re screaming, and rails your ass with her strap until you’re in tears and cumming all over her cock, you’ll be good, it’ll be over, because it's not like you need her, not like you need your—

"Mommy, I’m going to cum!"

“So cum then.”

It's a split second, like a gunshot—hot searing pain firing through your body and tearing a hole right through you—and it must look the same, it's written all over Ningning's face, hanging off the tilt of her plush lips.

All of a sudden: you're gushing, spewing cum all over her hand, shooting past her grip and her fingers go deep inside you and you're hitting the marble, splashing all over, across the bench, serving dessert for Ningning on the same counter you've prepared so many dinners for Yuha on so many nights before.

Ningning’s all over you, her full weight on you, she's been moaning in your ear this whole time, chewing up your lobe, tonguing inside, she's in your ass, she's in your fucking head, flooding your mind, telling you:

"That's it,” she coos, the praise dripping straight into the mess she’s made of you, “Keep going, keep going for Mommy, my good boy—"

And you’re gone.

It's splatter after splatter of cum across the counter, and she's pushing you into it and you would be face-first in your own release but you're somehow able to keep yourself propped up.

You cry for your Mommy one last broken, wrecked time—and everything blurs into a flash of white—painting the counter, your stomach, your open shirt, Ningning's hand.

She doesn't stop. Milks you through every pulse until your thighs shake and you're not sure you can stand on your own anymore—and you're leaning on her for support, whimpering into her shoulder, oversensitive, over-fucking-whelmed, spent dry.

Only then does she ease up.

You sob when her fingers leave your ass. Groan when her hand pulls back from your cock.

She looks at the mess, the art she's made.

Leaves you to collapse in your own heap over the counter next to it. Catch your breath.

And then she takes a small step to the right, leans forward over the counter, bending low—and drags her tongue up the island in one, long scoop. Taking care to collect every single drop, every spurt you had, getting it all on her tongue, slow and thorough, and you just lie there, heaving, cock still twitching, ass still flexing open and close, staring, hooked on her.

She takes her time, tongue dragging slow, savouring it, leaving not a single inch of the counter unclean. Reclaiming every drop you wasted on anything that isn’t her.

Then, she drops to her knees, licks a long stripe up your cock, runs a finger under your balls, over the twitching shaft, wringing out the last pathetic beads that never reached the marble.

Ningning rises, presses her cum-slick lips to your chest, slurps the rest off your skin, and hums the entire time, like it's Sunday cleaning, like you're her furniture she's putting back in order.

And when she finally gets to her feet, towering over you, eyes on yours, lips sealed shut, you realise she’s kept it all, every single drop—hasn’t swallowed once, holding it all just for this. For you.

For a second, you wait.

You open your mouth.

She drools your cum inside.

Globs of it, sticking to the inside of your mouth, salty-sweet, making you cough, gag, filling up your head with the scent of you, but you can't do anything about it because she's taking you by the chin and kissing you before you can breathe.

It's hard, it's full of her tongue, full of your cum, it's—it’s so fucking hot. It’s dirty. Almost loving. She makes you feel it, fastens her body to yours, has you collapsing to the ground and she straddles you so easily, so naturally, and it feels so right and good that it has you swelling angrily against her and you’re finding new ways to hate her all over again.

She takes your hand, fills it with her pretty tits and squeezes your palm against her, mewling into your mouth when you find a nipple and twist.

Rolling her hips against your cock, she's fucking drenched, cunt drooling all over you, and you’re bucking up to meet her, struggling against the lace she's left on but you think if you try hard enough you can rip straight through.

Her hands are in the back of your hair, and she's pulling, tugging, wrenching you closer, breathing all of you in and sucking every drop of cum back into her mouth before pushing it down your throat with her tongue and making you swallow it all.

You know what she's declaring, loud and clear.

She could have you anytime, anywhere, any way she wants.

And when she's done, she slides her lips off yours, down your cheek, to your ear and tells you what you already know.

"You're disgusting."

She breaks away, stands tall. Peels her top off her body, tosses it onto the counter. It never mattered. Steps out of her panties without breaking her stride, rounding the island, hips swaying down the hallway towards your bedroom.

You hear her when she’s out of sight, "Do you need me to say it?"

You’re scrambling to your knees. You’re not sure if you'll make it to your feet.

You'll crawl if you have to.

"I'm coming, Mommy—"

***

The answer is that she’s got you pinned down on her bed, fingers wrapped around your shaft, jerking up and down while twisting side to side, all with a gleeful grin on her face. You, in contrast, are whimpering, quivering, sweat and tears running down your cheeks. Your throbbing tip leaks precum almost as quickly, balls swollen and aching from the seventh edging of the day.

Mayu’s somehow perfectly in tune with your resistance too, knowing precisely how to get you to the very edge and when to stop, denying the release your whole body is so desperately yearning for. “You getting tired? My boy getting tired? It’s only been an hour…” she giggles maniacally, moving her hand faster.

“Uhh! N–No! I can…can take—mmhhh! Can hold it! As long as you want, Your Highness!” you wheeze. If your mind were clearer, you’d applaud yourself for lasting this long. But alas, it’s clouded by pain and pleasure. 

Mayu pouts and slaps your balls, making you flinch hard. “Hmph! You forgot already? Do I have to say it again?”

“No! No…I’m sorry!” Your eyes shoot wide open, shaking your head. “I’m sorry, Your Hi—I mean, I’m sorry, m–mommy…”

A wide grin returns to her face. “Attaboy. Thought I was gonna have to kick you out there.” She rewards you with a long lick along the bottom vein, her tongue flat and slow. A string of what might be human language spills from your mouth as a result, the lights in your head flickering with a loud buzz.

“Now, you don’t wanna get kicked out of the estate butt naked, do you?” Mayu’s sweet, gentle voice is almost maternal, easily scrambling what semblance of pride you have left. “Don’t wanna get back to being a…worthless—wage—slave?” she asks slowly, kissing different parts of your cock.

“N–No! No, mommy! I wanna be…wanna…” Your mouth’s getting dry from all the crying and moaning. “Wanna be—yours. All yours, mommy!”

Mayu giggles. That soft, adorable look which is the only look the media sees most times. “Slut.” Not like this, though.

“Yes! I’m your slut! I’m mommy’s slut…mmhhh…” 

“Say it for me again.” She wraps her lips around your head, suckling on it before releasing with a pop. “You’re worthless without me. Nothing if not my fucktoy,” she whispers, circling her fingertip around your slit.

“I’m—mmm…I’m worthless without you! Nothing if no—ahh!” Mayu takes you fully, going all the way down to her throat. “Nothing if not mommy’s fucktoy!” She hums and swipes her tongue in big circles, stimulating every surface that’s become hyper sensitive. You start sobbing above her again, hands locked to your sides as she instructed despite your desperate instincts to push her down by the hair. 

Mayu’s mouth is more ferocious than it was the previous two cycles, your tip knocking on the back of her throat with tangible, filthy glucks. Not at all something you ever expect to hear from a royal, what with how they’ve branded themselves to the people.

 Frankly, you never expected to be this up close with a royal, for any purpose. They always seemed distant. Unaffected by the troubles of the commoners. And you weren’t sure whether your resentment towards them was borne from the systemic inequality or your exclusion from the elusive clique that they’ve formed.

“Hey. Hey! What’re you thinking about? Where’s your head at?” Mayu scowls, saliva drooling from her swollen lips as she catches her breath. “I–I, uh…I was—”

“Were you distracting yourself to last longer?” she smirks, tilting her head. 

“It…uh, maybe?”

She sucks through her teeth. “Be honest with me. Yes or no, baby?”

“Yes, mommy! Definitely. I was…I’m doing everything I can to–to make mommy happy.”

“Mmm, cute.” Mayu chuckles and clasps her lips around your balls, tickling the seam with quick juts of her tongue tip. You let out a deep bellow, curling your toes so hard they’re shaking, on the border of cramping. She releases with a loud pop, licking up the precum that trickled down your length in the meantime.

“Okay, enough playing for now. Let’s see if you can do what I brought you in here to.” She rises to her feet and unties her silk robe, letting it part down the middle. Your vigour feels reignited by the sight, cocking your head up. Mayu giggles and pulls her robe back together, and you let out a primal grunt at the denial.

“Hehe. Wanna see more, baby?”

You sit up and nod frantically. “Y–Yes, mommy.”

She hums and swings her body side-to-side. “Beg for it. Tell me what you want.”

“I–I wanna—” You swallow to lubricate your dry throat. “I wanna see all of you, mommy. Please, please let me see everything, mommy. Please…”

“Good boy.” Mayu bends forward to grab your chin, slowly licking from your Adam's apple, stopping by at your chin before going to your earlobe, nibbling on it. “You’re a good little peasant boy, aren’t you?” she purrs.

“Y–Yes! Yes, I am!” you shudder.

“For who?”

“For you, mommy! Only for you…”

With a satisfied hum, she straightens back up, pushing her robe back and letting it fall from her shoulders. Her smooth, bare naked form is finally presented to you, even doing a little twirl. Your eyes are the most open they’ve been in an hour, jaws dropped loosely. Feels like you couldn’t stop ogling unless someone broke your neck.

Or unless Mayu makes you look somewhere else, which isn’t at all difficult for her. She gracefully strides forward and slides into your lap, making your breath hitch at the renewed proximity. 

“You’re really hard down there,” she whispers, her warm breath tickling your cheek.. “It’s poking at my belly.”

“I, er…thank you?”

She bursts out laughing, a noise so wholesome and bright you could almost forget that she has the power to decimate you. “You’re sounding more and more like a keeper. Let’s really put that to the test.” Lifting herself to clear your length, she lines you up and sinks down in one fell swoop. The soft moan she lets out is immediately drowned out by your sharp cry, almost bursting then and there with how unbelievably wet and hot her pussy is.

“Ahh! M–Mommy…it–it’s so…I—aghh…”

Mayu shuts you up with a fiery kiss, biting and pulling your lips so hard it breaks skin. She pulls off for a single breath, then suckles on the wound, licking up the blood. Your eyes flutter under the volley of stimulations, cock throbbing within her.

“Mmh! Don’t tell me you’re close already, we barely started,” she pouts.

You sob and shake your head. “I’m sorry, Mommy…I can’t help it! You fe—ahh, feel too good…”

Mayu shoots a disapproving squint before cackling, raising herself up to your tip then slamming back down. Your hands fly to her butt as you throw your head back, wheezing. “You better help it, baby,” she coos. “You’re not—and no touching! Hands off.” They obey before you tell them to, trembling as they fall to your sides.

“You don't finish before I do, and you don’t touch me or move unless I say so. Understand, baby?” she asks sweetly, putting her arms around your neck. 

You clench your jaws and swallow before replying, “Understood, mommy.” 

“And if you don’t do what I say…” Mayu begins rolling her hips, dragging your hardness along her warmth. “I’m kicking you out exactly as you are right now. And you’ll go back to being the worthless…mmm…bottom feeder that you were.”

You seethe and nod as you direct all remaining energy to holding on, by any means; gripping the sheets, clenching your jaws, tightening your thighs. “And you won’t be going back to that shitty job I plucked you out of,” she giggles and groans at a particular stroke against her sensitive spot. “No…you won’t be going back to any job. No one will employ you. I’ll—fuck…that’s so hard! I’ll personally make sure of that.”

Mayu’s moans get louder and sharper as she ramps up her speed. You start bawling, not just from the higher intensity but also the true gravity of the situation. You’re now literally fighting for your life, as there is no life for you outside of this manor. Outside of her world. Not anymore.

“Mommy…”

“You’ll be beyond worthless. You will be…invisible!” She laughs maniacally. “Now you don’t want that, do you baby?”

“N–No!”

“No…you want to be mommy’s personal fucktoy,” she purrs, caressing your temple.

“Yes!”

“My cum dispenser,”

“Mmm…”

“My walking, blabbering...fucking pet.”

“Yes! Yes! Yes! Anything you want, mommy! Just don’t kick me out, please…anything for you…”

“Aw, so—ahh…adorable.” She kisses you deep but gentle, briefly slowing herself down. Pulling away, she glances down at her chest. “You want these? Want mommy’s milkers?”

You take a good gander at them again. The little time your eyes had spent open was fixed on her face, hardly noticing the supple mounds and the pink buds jutting from them. “Mhm! I wanna…wanna suck them, mommy. Wanna squeeze them.”

“Then do it. Don’t half-ass it, or you’re never touching them again.” You don’t even acknowledge before engorging on one of them, kneading the other. Your mouth is ravenous in its slurping, as if trying to gather every morsel of surface particulate. Teeth and tongue nibble at her stiff nipples. Your hand is far from idle as well, finally getting some action. It gropes like a climber’s does when they scale cliffs, pinching and rolling the other bud between your fingers.

Mayu’s reaction is immediate, a few broken gasps slipping as she pushes you into her. “F–Fuck! Right there, baby…just like that. So—ahh! So good…” Her hips return to speed, even harsher than before. Moist, crisp claps are emitted as she impales herself. You cope by switching to her other breast, gnawing on them, blowing into them.

“Oh my God! Ahh, it—that…touch me, touch me! My ass, my clit, everything! I’m…I—ughh! I’m actually getting close…”

No complaints there. Your hands get busy with her body. Spreading her ass, flicking her slit in a mad dash to find her clit. Mayu shouts when you pass a specific spot and you lock in on that; rubbing, rolling, twiddling, pushing into it. That utterly breaks the remainders of her royal composure as she bellows various curses between her long, whiny moans.

Her walls leak profusely, twitching around you. You’re fast nearing the end of your rope as well, the stakes are higher than ever. “Mommy, I’m so close…” you whimper. “I dont—ahh! I can’t hold it much longer…”

“Just a little bit more, baby,” she whines and braces herself on your shoulders. “Just—a little bit—more! Shit! You can move now, fuck me! Fuck me!”

With a loud grunt, you start thrusting up in time with her bounces. Mayu begins sobbing as well, albeit with a wide, euphoric grin. Your combined noises fill up the vast bedroom, drowning out any semblance of outside noise.

“M–Mommy!”

“Right there, baby! Let’s finish together. Don’t stop now, don’t hold back…aghh!”

Mayu arches her back sharply as she detonates, jamming herself hard like she’s trying to become one with you. Her pussy jettisons a torrent of juices, soaking everything underneath it. Her walls constrict in sporadic, powerful waves, and you lose it.

“Mommy! I’m cumming! Cum—” The rest dies in your throat as you erupt, firing multiple volleys of your seed deep inside her. The sensation blurs your vision and most of your other senses, all overwhelmed by the long pent-up release. 

“Yes…that’s it, fill me up. Make me a mommy…” Mayu rolls her hips slowly even as her entire frame trembles, making sure to milk every little drop of your discharge. By the time you finish spurting, your whole body feels like jelly, collapsing backwards under her weight. 

Mayu rolls off with a soft hum, your cock slithering out weakly. She lays back to catch her breath, then spreads her legs to observe your combined release. “Wow, quite a great amount…and you lasted. Well done, baby.” She plants a soft kiss on your forehead. “You have earned your keep. You’re a very useful peasant after all.”

“T–Thanks, mommy.”

“Ah-ah.” She puts a finger on your lips. “We’re done with that for the time being. Address me as per the custom.”

“Right. Then, I am…grateful for the opportunity you’ve given me, Your Highness.”

“Very well.” Mayu stretches her arms out and flops back on the bed. “Return to your quarters and wash up. You’re done for noon, but we’ll continue tonight.”

You swallow a gulp, cock twitching again despite yourself. “Yes, ma’am.” You breathe out a sigh and summon what energy you have left to sit up, turning to glance between her legs. “By the way, is that…will you really get…pregnant?”

Mayu chuckles, tilting her head to look at you. “Likely not. I’ve been on contraceptives for the past two weeks.” She sits back up, moaning slightly as the soreness catches up with her.  “And we’ll use that to its full advantage. Every two days, you’ll fulfil my desires, and perhaps…” That cheeky smirk adorns her face again. “ …I’ll let you fulfill yours on occasion.”

You stand up with a groan. “Understood, ma’am.” You start gathering your clothes, dressing up enough to be presentable. As you’re about to bow her goodbye, a big question arises, or resurfaces, rather. A smaller question is whether it’s appropriate to ask now, but the fact that you’ve been inside and handled by this woman gives it good assurance.

***

“Er, there is something else I’d really like to know, Your Highness.”

“Mhm, pray tell.”

“Why?” you shrug. “Why did you snatch—er, pluck me up from the streets? Invite me into your fold for…this? I mean, I am immensely grateful, but…why me? Like you said, I was a no-good wage slave—I’d probably have worked to my death back there.”

“Hmm.” Mayu taps her chin. “Let’s just say—oh dear, this is quite a mess. Bring me a towel, will you?” You make a quick trip to her massive bathroom to grab a small towel and hand it to her. “Thank you. As I was saying, you were incredibly lucky, darling. It’s…” she sighs as she wipes herself clean. “It’s my father. Your King.”

“I’m never getting the throne, by virtue of not being his son. So, he just…pampers me. A whole lot. Doesn’t want me to do anything too risky or adventurous.” She scoffs and throws the towel down. “What occasional ‘adventure’ I do get is meeting those diplomats. Like that isn’t a minefield of its own.”

“Perhaps he’s…trying to set you up with one of their princes? But can’t say it too outwardly, so…” Mayu shoots you a glance that scrambles the rest of your thoughts. “I’m sorry if–if that was out of line, Your Highness.”

“No, no, you’re right.” She raises a hand, smiling. “Heh. You’re more intuitive than some…individuals in the Palace,” she chuckles. “Anyways, since I can’t have much fun outside the manor, I thought I’d make my own fun.” 

She eyes you up and down slowly, biting her lip as she starts to saunter towards you, picking up her robe along the way. “And seeing you on that street, berated in public by that vile boss of yours…” Her voice’s dropped back to that octave which chills your spine. “…you seemed like a decent subject for my entertainment,” she purrs, getting right up in your face.

Her fingers lightly dance over your crotch, eliciting a quiet croak from you. “And what do you know, I was mostly correct.”

You force your eyes to meet hers. “M–Mostly, ma’am?”

“Mhm. You’ve proved yourself for the short term. Prove yourself for the long term…” She turns around and slowly grinds her silk covered ass down your bulge, keeping eye contact as she does. “ …and you may advance from a mere useful subject. The child I bear may very well be yours, darling.”

You shudder at the potential future, along with the heat returning to your loins. “I–I…that would be…a great honor, Your Highness. I will keep it in mind.”

“It’s best you do,” Mayu giggles, giving you a light peck on the cheek before returning to her bed. “Now, go along. Rejuvenate yourself. If what you gave me just now was your everything, you need to move that threshold for tonight.”

   You straighten up and give her a sharp, firm bow. “Will do, Your Royal Highness. I will retreat to my quarters. Have a good day.”

“Ta.” She blows a kiss goodbye. Just before you open the door, you look back at her. “Oh, and…it may be wise to empty your schedule for tomorrow, ma’am.”

“Oh? And why is that?”

For the first time in a while, your little smile is borne of confidence. “Because you won’t be walking straight by then.”

Mayu bursts out laughing, resting her chin on her fist. “Remember where you came from, darling. Don’t utter all that big talk…” She glances down and licks her top lip. “ …before you take away my ability to.”

“No—it’s not what you think—”

“I saw you, Wonbin.” Her voice cracked. “I saw your face. Your eyes were closed, and your hands—were all over her.”

“I wasn’t! She kissed me—I tried to stop her—”

“So you had the strength to carry Rei across the room earlier, but you couldn’t stop Yujin from coming onto you?”

“Wonyoung—I—” The words tangled on my tongue. “You’re right—I messed up, I know I did, and I’m sorry. I panicked. I didn’t know what to do. But I really didn’t mean to—”

“You didn’t know what to do, so you grabbed a handful of her ass while she stuck her tongue down your throat?” She looked away in disgust. “And you said you loved me? And after everything I said—”

“Wonyoung—” I reached for her hand, but she yanked it back like I had burned her.

“Don’t you dare touch me,” she said in a tone that I never imagined I’d ever hear from her. A tone so terrifying and cold that it made my chest cave in.

“I’m sorry,” I said, dropping to my knees before her. The impact shot through my legs, but I barely felt it—everything else hurt way more.

I didn’t know what else to do, it was like my world was shattering in front of me. Everything I’d ever dreamed of actually came true, and yet in just a fleeting moment, it all disappeared.

“Do you think that begging works on me?” she asked.

“You’re right. I should’ve stopped her. I could’ve. I was too stupid. But I swear I’ve never looked at her like that—it’s always been you. I wish it had been you. I wanted it to be you. But it wasn’t, and I was wrong, and I’m just so sorry.”

She didn’t say a word.

“I’m sorry, Wonyoung…” I said again, even though I knew she was right. Repeating it changed nothing. Begging was futile.

“Today was one of the happiest days of my life,” she said.

“Mine too.”

“It felt like a fairytale to me.”

“Me too.”

“And you ruined it.”

Her words cut like a dull knife. Sharp enough to puncture a wound, but not enough to end the pain quickly.

“I know, I’m so sorry, Wonyoung. I’m really so sorry.”

She let the silence stretch until it nearly snapped, then looked down at me with her arms folded. "Then prove it.”

“What?”

“If you mean it, then prove it.”

“Okay—I’ll prove it. I’ll do it. Anything. I’ll do anything.”

Her eyes sharpened, and her posture straightened, like she wasn’t even drunk anymore. “Be mine then.”

“I am. I’m already yours, I’ve always been.”

“No,” she said, her voice colder than ever. “Not like that.”

I swallowed hard, my throat closing up. “Then what do you mean?”

She began to circle me slowly. “As of today, you’re no longer my best friend.”

My breathing stopped. “W-what?”

“And you’re definitely not going to be my lover, my boyfriend, or whatever stupid fantasy you had in your head.”

“I-I’m not sure what you’re saying right now—”

“Wonbin.” She leaned down, just enough to meet my eyes. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Answer the question. Are you going to be mine or what? Yes or no.”

“Your what?”

“My slave.”

From the moment those words left her lips, my life was never the same again.

I never thought even in my wildest nightmares that my relationship with Wonyoung would turn out this way. But eventually, it became the only thing I knew.

My routine was simple. Attend class during the day, work my part-time job at the café in the evening, and at night, be available whenever she asked for me.

She was a methodical person, so most of the time, our meetings followed a pattern: right after a concert, a full day of practice, filming a music video or commercial, or after she came back from being away.

The only unpredictable part was the location.

For most nights, it would be at her own apartment in Cheongdam, but there were special occasions where we would meet at a fancy hotel closest to where she was at the time of the text.

“Grand Hyatt. Room 1134. 30 minutes.”

That would be the text. Nothing more.

And for the record, 30 minutes was not a lot of time to get ready and show up. But I somehow always made it work.

In the beginning, I’d panic—make excuses to my friends, lie about emergencies, bolt out of restaurants onto the subway like my life depended on it (because, well, it did).

But eventually, I learned to anticipate her schedule. I started checking her public appearances, rehearsals, recordings, just to narrow down the nights I might get summoned. I memorized her patterns—how she needed me more after long shoots or after arguments with her members.

After a while, I didn’t need excuses anymore. I just disappeared. People stopped questioning it. Maybe they thought I just turned into a psycho. Who was I to say they were wrong?

I also never showed up empty-handed. She never asked, but I knew she expected it: a bouquet of roses, an expensive box of chocolates, a new bottle of wine to try. Something to prove my devotion, my desperation, my willingness to bleed myself dry for her. Like an offering, almost. And that’s where most of my paychecks went.

Chocolate and wine were easy to stock, but roses had to be bought fresh, which made them the real challenge. Especially on short notice. I learned which flower shops stayed open late, which convenience stores carried good wine, which 24-hour places would save me when she texted at midnight.

As for the rules, the basic ones were quite simple. Don’t be late, don’t talk back, follow her orders without question.

But simple didn’t always mean easy. I broke them often, and was always punished accordingly. In fact, I broke them the very same night that I got myself into this mess.

“What do you mean?”

“I told you not to ask questions,” she scolded. “Just do anything and everything I say.”

“Oh, so we’ve already made it to this part of the game.” Yujin smirked.

“You shut your mouth, unnie.” Wonyoung said sternly.

"Scary," Yujin said sarcastically, her eyes locked on mine, waiting to see if I'd crumble or comply.

Wonyoung turned to me, her patience visibly thinning. “Are you going to do it or not? Because if not, you can leave right now.”

“I’ll do it, but—”

“Wonbin.”

“Y-yeah?”

She didn’t raise her voice. She didn’t need to. “I’m not going to ask you again.”

I turned to Yujin, unable to look Wonyoung in the eyes anymore. “Kiss me again,” I said, barely above a whisper.

Yujin blinked, and then laughed in disbelief. “What?”

Wonyoung sat on the couch in front of us, her posture more refined than ever, as if the alcohol had completely left her body. She said nothing. Just watched.

“Kiss me,” I said again, my voice stronger than before. “Let’s…make out. Again.”

“Well, this isn’t very romantic,” Yujin said, unimpressed.

“Oh, it was supposed to be romantic?” Wonyoung asked, her voice more annoyed than ever.

“No!” I interrupted. “It wasn’t romantic at all, we were just being stupid. Drunk and stupid.”

“Speak for yourself,” Yujin said, biting her lower lip.

“Come on,” I said, inching closer to her. “Let’s do it again.”

“You’re giving us permission?” Yujin's eyes flicked between me and Wonyoung. “Or is this some kind of test?”

“If you’re gonna go after my possessions, do it in front of me instead of behind my back.”

“Ooh—possessions, huh? Don’t agree to things that you’ll regret, Wonnie.”

“Don’t call me that.”

Yujin's smile turned predatory as she looked at me. “I guess everyone wins tonight.”

Without warning, she wrapped her hands behind my neck and pulled me close, kissing me fiercely, as if she had been waiting for this moment all night.

My body went rigid, even though I had plenty of time to prepare. Truthfully, I was shocked that Yujin was such a great kisser. The control she had over her lips and tongue were honestly impressive. It felt like I was in complete control by her mouth, so much that I couldn’t even move.

Wonyoung crossed her legs and leaned her back against the sofa. “Don’t be shy all of a sudden, kiss her back.”

Yujin chuckled against my lips. “You're actually okay with this?”

“He said he would do anything to prove that he’s sorry, so let’s see how much of that is bullshit.”

The room spun around me. I didn't understand the rules anymore. I didn't know what was expected or forbidden, but I knew if I asked again, I’d be punished. And I still didn’t understand what punishment meant in her world.

“Go on, grab her ass,” Wonyoung commanded. “Just like you did before.”

“You heard her.” Yujin took my hand and guided it down, pressing my palm against the curve of her soft, round butt, holding it there until my fingers spread and gripped on their own.

“How does it feel? Do you like it?” Wonyoung asked.

I froze. Every answer felt like a trap.

“Are you mute now?”

“It feels… good?” My voice cracked. “I’m sorry. I just—”

“I asked you if you like it.”

“Yes. I like it. It feels nice and soft.”

“Just pretend she’s not here,” Yujin whispered, her breath warm in my ear. “She loves playing goddess, but she’s just a jealous little brat, don’t be scared of her.”

Wonyoung’s voice cut through her whisper like a knife. “Take her clothes off.”

“W-what?” I stared at her, panic rising in my chest.

But Yujin didn't wait for my hesitation to pass. “Like this.”

Her fingers found the edge of my shirt and pulled it over my head in one smooth motion. Then she kissed me again—slower this time, more deliberate. I didn’t resist. I didn’t know if I even had the right to anymore. Or the will.

My hands moved without conscious thought, pulling her shirt up and over her head. She smiled against my lips, then reached behind herself to unhook her bra, letting it fall at our feet. She grabbed my wrist and placed it over her bare chest, and I felt the weight of her breasts in my hands as my breath finally caught.

I looked over at Wonyoung, my throat as dry as sand.

“Don’t stop now,” she said, recrossing her legs.

Lust crashed over me like a giant wave. I wanted to pretend I was still in some kind of control, that this was still some twisted game I could walk away from—but that lie died the moment Yujin's nipples hardened against my palms. Her tongue danced with mine as if she already knew every inch of me—where to press, where to pull, how to break what little was left of my restraint.

I slid her shorts down along with her panties, and she let out a quiet, teasing moan, biting down on my lower lip before releasing it with a grin.

“There you go,” she breathed. “That’s a good boy…”

My hands moved on instinct, tracing the curve of her waist, and glided over her hips, until my fingers slipped between her thighs. She was already wet, and when I touched her, she gasped into my mouth, arching her body like she never even expected it. Her breath was hot against my cheek, and her head tilted back, exposing her neck like an offering.

I took it. My lips pressed eagerly against her skin as my fingers spread her wetness, slipping through it before pressing deeper. She was already soaked, pulling me in.

“Oh god,” Yujin moaned, her head falling back.. “You better not tell us to stop randomly, because I swear—I’m going to lose it.”

“I won’t,” Wonyoung said calmly. “Do what you really want to each other.”

“Don’t change your mind later when you can’t take it anymore,” Yujin warned.

“Of course. I won’t.”

Then, like something snapped inside her, Yujin grabbed my shoulders and twisted me around, pushing me down onto the couch—right next to Wonyoung. I hit the cushions hard, my heart pounding so loud I could barely think, before I felt her fingers tugging my belt free. In one smooth, reckless motion, she pulled my pants down to my knees.

“W-wait, hold on—”

But she didn’t listen.

Before I could process what had happened, my cock was already inside of her mouth. I looked at Wonyoung in panic, certain that she would stop us, but she was stoic. She didn’t even flinch. She just sat there, perfectly still, watching. Her face was unreadable—there was no shock. No jealousy. No anger. Just nothing.

“You better not come,” was all she said.

***

“Wonbin, are you coming?” Manager Kim asked, waving his arm.

“Yes, coming, sorry!” I hurried toward him through the maze of cables and equipment cases.

The stadium was deafeningly loud, even from backstage. Thousands of voices were bleeding through concrete walls.

“Alright, listen carefully because this part is kind of confusing. The girls are going to enter from this side, but they exit from the other side in between breaks. But on some sets, they have to exit on this side to get their makeup retouched. So you wait over here, since you can speak English, so if the venue staff have any issues, you can communicate with them. I’ll be on the other side dealing with our new crew. Make sense?”

“Yes,” I lied. It made zero sense in the moment, but everything was happening too fast for me to process.

“Do you have their stuff?”

I held up the box of phones tangled with designer charms and luxury handbags worth more than my semester tuition.

“Perfect, alright, I have to go now, text me if there are any issues.”

While getting my school arrangements in place, I had some free time, so I volunteered to help IVE with their World Tour in America. I thought that just meant tagging along their team and helping with translations, but Manager Kim seemed to really trust me with management things as well, such as coordinating fan events, and helping set their schedules. Or on some days, hold their phones and bags for them while they performed.

Although this job (if you could even call it that since I didn’t get paid) helped me understand the logistics of being an idol more than ever before, there were some things that remained a mystery to me. Like how they changed entire outfits—sometimes even hairstyles—in the span of two songs. I wasn't allowed to be there during costume changes for obvious reasons, but my mind couldn't wrap around the physics of it.

But what confused me the most was that Wonyoung had two phones. Everyone knew she was endorsed by Samsung, so of course she had to be seen with a Galaxy for Instagram posts and brand deals, while her personal phone was an iPhone—that part made sense. What didn’t make sense was how she actually used them.

Sometimes, in between sets, she’d ask me for the Galaxy instead of her iPhone—even when there were no cameras or fans around.

At first, I figured maybe she had KakaoTalk installed on both, and it was just a matter of convenience. But then she’d switch back to the iPhone the very next set, almost at random, like there was some invisible rulebook I’d never read. Was one for family? One for management?

I never had the courage to ask. And honestly, maybe I didn’t want to know. Her unlock pattern was quite simple and not much of a secret since she often swiped it out in the open, so I didn’t imagine there could be anything to hide on that phone. It was just one of those things that went way over my head and there was no point in trying to decipher it.

"Oppa, something's wrong with my mic—I can't hear myself anymore," Liz said breathlessly as the girls rushed backstage for their break before the encore.

"Channel 3 volume check," I called to the sound engineer. "Her monitor feed might be—”

“Oppa, Wonyoung’s looking for her phone—”

“Oppa, do you know where Manager Kim is?”

“Wonbin-ah, can you ask them—”

Voices overlapped, demands crashed into each other. At this point, the area was chaos—makeup artists with powder brushes, stylists pulling new outfits from garment bags, security guards barking updates on their walkie talkies about crowd control. In the middle of it all, Wonyoung looked especially drained.

I caught her as she stumbled slightly, pressing a cold bottle of water into her hands while the other girls fanned themselves frantically with whatever they could find.

"Are you okay?" I asked, twisting the cap off for her before she could even try.

She smiled—that soft, genuine one reserved for moments when the cameras weren't rolling. "I'm okay. I'm just glad it's almost over. I'm so tired today.”

It caught me off guard. She rarely let her exhaustion show, especially not to me. Not anymore.

"You did really well today," I said, reaching up to fix a strand of hair that had escaped from her perfectly styled bangs. My fingers brushed against her damp skin, and for a second, she leaned into the touch.

“Were you watching me?” she asked, taking a long sip of water.

“Of course I was.”

“I can’t believe it’s your job now.”

“It’s always been my job to look at you—”

“Wonyoung-ah! Come quickly, you have to change for the encore! We only have three minutes!”

She jerked upward. "Sorry! Coming!”

As usual, whatever little moment we had shattered.

She dropped the water bottle onto my lap and started toward the dressing room, then stopped abruptly.

"Oh—Wonbin! Can you bring me my phone?"

I looked down at the two devices in my hands. "Which one?"

But she didn’t hear me.

I tried checking for messages on both to figure it out, but without knowing her passcode, the home screen was as good as empty. Just then, the Galaxy buzzed in my hand, and I knew that was the one.

“Wonbin, there you are!” Manager Kim suddenly called from behind me. “Can you come help? They’re saying that we’re behind schedule and won’t have time for the fansign afterwards, but that’s completely not true.”

“Oh, I’ll be right there, I have to bring this to Wonyoung—”

“No, come now! She can wait!”

***

“Wait, stop—Yujin!”

Wonyoung glared at me, more serious than she’s ever been.

“Wonyoung—I’m sorry, I—I think I’m gonna come—”

“Don't come yet,” Yujin said, her tongue flicking teasingly against the tip. “The fun's just getting started.”

“No, please, Yujin, slow down…”

“Like this?” she purred, slowly running her tongue against my shaft.

I didn’t understand how or why she was so good. Granted, my sexual experience was limited to only a couple of people, but this was a level of skill I didn’t know existed. Where exactly did she learn? And with who?

I fell back against the couch, squeezing my eyes shut to fight the overwhelming sensations, but Yujin's warm, wet mouth engulfed me completely, techniques I didn't even know were possible.

"Open your eyes," Wonyoung commanded.

I obliged, and I could see the anger behind her beautiful face that she was trying so hard to mask.

“Does it feel good?” Yujin asked, stroking me while pulling her hair back with her other hand.

Wonyoung crossed her legs yet again. “Answer the question.”

“Yes,” I said, in almost a whimper. “It feels really good, but I don’t want to feel good anymore. I’m sorry, Wonyoung, I—”

“Why not? I never said you couldn’t feel good, I just said not to come.”

But it was a request that was physically impossible to meet. I looked right into her eyes, staring at the girl of my dreams, the only person I’d ever yearned for with such desperation. And yet right next to her was Yujin’s perfect naked body, oozing with desire, ready to swallow me alive.

“I can’t hold it anymore,” I cried in defeat as Yujin’s throat squeezed me tightly, her soft, wet tongue drawing circles at my base.

“Not yet,” Yujin said, gasping for air. Strands of saliva fell from her mouth, still connected to my shaft. “I wanna feel good too.”

“Yujin—what are you—”

Before I knew it, she had already climbed on top of me, kissing me deeply and passionately. I could taste myself on her mouth and feel the wetness around her lips smearing on mine, but it was the warmer, almost hot wetness below that truly scared me.

I wanted to scream, but my tongue was a prisoner to hers, and my hands had betrayed me—all they could do was hold onto her hips, guiding them towards me instead of pushing her away.

I looked desperately at Wonyoung again, silently begging for help, but she continued staring at us, her lips slightly twitching in a fury she refused to show.

And before I knew it, the heat had completely swallowed me whole. Her walls wrapped tightly around me, gliding smoothly up and down as her hips moved in a hypnotic rhythm.

“Oh fuck…” Yujin's breath hit my face between tender kisses.

“Yujin…” I tried to speak, but found no words beyond her name.

She continued grinding on top of me, hands clutching her own breasts as she used my body for her pleasure. It was a sight that was breaking my mind, like my brain was being short-circuited. On one hand, there was nothing more erotic than seeing Yujin in such a primal, erotic state. Her deadly facial expressions as she rode me, combined with her womanly slender body bouncing up and down mine, sent me into a sexual delirium.

But what broke me more was Wonyoung’s stillness. Her posture was still as perfect as always, and her legs were tightly crossed, while she watched us without saying a word. All I could do was shake my head, begging her with my eyes to forgive me.

For what I did, and what I was about to do.

“I’m sorry, Wonyoung…”

I wished I could have told her how I felt. That I wished it was her instead of Yujin. How much I craved only her. How all our memories rushed in to fight back the lust that Yujin had drawn out of me, but to no avail.

The edges of her lips twitched ever so slightly yet again as Yujin jammed her tongue into my mouth yet again to claim me as hers, wetness dripping down the sides of my body.

Wonyoung uncrossed her legs and slowly stood up, and I knew the game was over.

I was going to betray her twice in one night. My body finally fully surrendered.

I closed my eyes, and my arms wrapped around Yujin’s back, pulling her close, thrusting upwards for the first time all night, causing her to moan loudly.

“Harder,” she said, sucking on my lips. “Fuck me harder.”

I squeezed her ass tightly, pumping her with all the strength I had left in my body.

“I’m coming…” I cried. “Yujin…I’m gonna come…”

“No, not yet…keep fucking me like this...”

“I can’t, Yujin, I’m sorry, I’m coming…”

“No, fuck me more. More, more, more!”

“I’m coming…I can’t hold it anymore!”

And then the door slammed behind us, just as all of my essence violently erupted deep inside her.

My punishment wasn’t anger. It wasn’t screaming, or a slap across the face. Not even a cold shoulder.

It was rules. An additional set of rules—ones much less simple, and infinitely harder to follow.

“I’m not mad, Wonbin. I told you that you could do whatever you wanted to do. Just know that the things you did with Yujin tonight will never happen with me.”

I could still hear her words ringing in my head. Words that cut deeper than any physical punishment I could have imagined.

Because it meant that I was her slave in every way that mattered to her, while completely stripped of everything I craved most.

I could never kiss her, never know the taste of her lips or the warmth of her tongue.

I would never receive any sort of pleasure from her mouth.

And sex was not just forbidden—it was to be erased from my mind. I should never even think about it.

But the most brutal rule of all was that I could never finish while she was in the room. It had to be after she left.

Those were the rules, and Wonyoung was absolute when it came to rules.

That was the ending of the night where everything began.

The night I told my childhood best friend that after all these years, I had always liked her.

But what came after like wasn’t love. It was ownership.

And she completely owned me.

I eventually packed my bags and moved to Seoul for school, and our routine continued without fail. I followed her rules carefully, always there when she asked, always doing what she wanted, never talking back or questioned her authority.

I thought I would dread those messages, that the sound of my phone buzzing would feel like a death sentence being passed, but instead, I began to crave it. The silence between texts felt like suffocating, and every new order was oxygen.

The more I served her, the more addicted I became. To her scent, her taste, her voice, just everything about her.

By day, I was her assistant manager—fetching water, carrying bags, shielding her from the chaos of crowds. By night, I was her toy. Something to be used, to be bent and broken, to prove over and over that she owned me.

It was the only life I knew. And, terrifyingly enough, the only life I wanted.

But little did I know, there was another rule. One that came much later on.

Whenever she was out of town, our agreement didn’t simply cease to exist, nor did I receive a break. 

“If I’m not there, you belong to my members. Serve them like you would serve me.”

I understood exactly what that meant. My body wasn’t even mine anymore. It was a currency she could spend, or loan, or deny to anyone she pleased.

I’ll be in Taipei for the weekend.

Yujin and Rei are fighting over you. I don’t pick favorites, so I’ll let you choose.

There was a pause, and then another message.

Be a good boy, okay?

End of Chapter 3.

What should Wonbin do?

(Vote on AFF or here.)

A) Have a second, proper night with Yujin.

B) Choose Rei.

The sleep’s barely out of your eyes when the sensations take ahold of you. Her pretty little mouth, hot and wet, works you out like no other. Her tongue is magical, but what more are those eyes, siren-dark as she takes you in. 

“Good morning, handsome,” she says. The covers drape Yuki’s naked frame. The outside lamplight pours on her silhouette and makes her look like a succubus. “Had a good sleep?”

What a way to wake up. Those gorgeous lips pepper kisses all over your cock. Her hand closes around the base to gently jerk you off while she sucks all-too-cleverly at the tip. Yuki knows you inside and out. 

“I was,” you reply. Your hand sifts through her dark hair. “Until you came along and couldn’t wait to get me in your mouth.”

Yuki’s eyes shine with mischief. “Don’t tell me you’re complaining.”

“I’m not,” you say, and close your eyes as she takes you in her throat again.

Yuki is insane. Everything about her, from those dangerous eyes to the naked, plentiful tits pressing to your thighs, is a provocation. You remember staring at her in class, taking note of that glossy black hair and waist, then wondering—

How the hell do you do it?

She hid her confusion that one day with a charming smile. Nobody mustered the courage to talk to her; you were one of the few brave soldiers. Do what exactly?

I—I just don’t get it, you said. How the hell does a girl like you not have a boy on your arm? 

Yuki stepped closer, her voice dropping low. I dunno. How does a boy like you not have a girl like me on your cock?

After she’d drained the life out of you in the school bathroom, you figured out why: Yuki is fucking wild. Nobody could handle her. Many have tried, you found out—she told you about the multiple women and men she left broken. You’re the only one who stayed around.

Pity them. Now, they don’t get the opportunity to have her taking care of their morning wood. They don’t feel the expert suction of her mouth or her hard nipples against their flesh. They don’t see her eyes as entrancing as Medusa’s as you empty your load in her.

This girl just keeps you shaking. She doesn’t stop sucking until each heavy spurt ends up in her wet mouth. She provokes more hot semen with sharp licks, welcoming you into her throat again and again until you collapse on the pillows.

And it’s like nothing to Yuki. She opens her mouth, shows you the pool of cum that settles there, and swallows. “Mmm, better than any milk.”

There’s that smile again, wicked with the knowledge that you’re hers and no one else’s. 

“Jesus, Yuki…” Your heart thumps fast against your naked chest. “Good morning to you, too.”

-

You’re all smiles as you walk together arm in arm to class. You moved in with Yuki a long time ago; your old crummy dorm was no use if you spent all the hours of your life in her bed anyway. It’s a chic, tall house in a gated subdivision where everyone knows everyone. You insisted on paying half, but Yuki declined. “I have another house in Tokyo anyway,” she said nonchalantly, as if an inherited mansion was something everybody had. 

This was why she couldn’t wrap her head around why you didn’t want a twenty-dollar frappe. She’s nursing hers right now, manicured fingers gleaming against the wet plastic. “You sure you don’t want some?”

You shake your head.

“Aw, come on. You’ve had my tongue in your mouth, haven’t you? What’s keeping you off a shared straw?”

You choke. “I-it’s a frappe, Yuki. I prefer real breakfast.”

“Whatever, you’re boring,” says Yuki with a roll of her gorgeous eyes. It’s the kind of attitude a prefect would call her out for. Many monitor this hallway, but none of them dare correct her. 

“If I’m so boring, I wouldn’t be fucking you every night.”

“Keep it up and you’ll lose that privilege,” warns Yuki. One look at her fit body in that blue tank top and low-rise jeans—yeah, you’re not going anywhere. 

Your business classroom is right up the hall. From its door, a pretty head of auburn hair looks both ways until she spots you. Yeonhee. A girl with too little time in her hands, a bookbag weighing her down, and too cute for her own good. Just the sound of her stomping as she marches up to you is adorable. 

Yuki waves at her. They’re best friends who met in senior high school, inseparable ever since. And, since you’re friends with benefits with Yuki, that makes Yeonhee your friend, too. Friend-in-law? Friend by acquaintance? You’ve no idea, but you’re definitely not bringing her into whatever twisted dynamic you have with Yuki. Yeonhee’s too innocent for that.

“Hi, babe.”

 (Oh, another thing—you’re sure if you didn’t come into the picture, she and Yeonhee would definitely have been girlfriends. The affection is both way too intimate and casual at the same time.)

Yeonhee pouts at her. “Don’t babe me. You’re late!”

“Only by like fifteen minutes,” says Yuki. She shows her the sugary frappe. “Besides, I had to pick up breakfast. Want some?”

“Ew, no. I’m not sharing anything edible with you after that time.”

You blush. You know exactly what she’s talking about. One time, she stayed over at Yuki’s to study. Her roommate was gone and she was too afraid to review alone. She had just gone into the kitchen for some water when she saw her best friend blowing you. Your dinners were still untouched.

Yuki isn’t fazed by it. “Don’t be a prude. When’s the last time you had a good dicking down?”

Yeonhee glows bright red. She draws herself up the best she can in her sandals, clutching her notepad tighter. “For your information, I am not interested in partaking in debauchery. Being promiscuous would greatly damage my reputation in orgs.”

Yuki told you about this before. It’s something you’ve noticed, too. While her batchmates party and go out, Yeonhee stays in the library to read. The girl’s a damn saint.

And it’s so clear that it’s something she’d like to maintain down to nitpicking things. The clogged schedule taped to her notebook, the dialogue straight out of a committee letter, the ribbons in her hair…

“Has anyone told you you’re a little tense?” you ask as politely as you can.

Yeonhee pauses, deep in thought. She recalls all the moments she chose her grades before herself, a deadline over breakfast. She bites her lip. “O-only a few times.”

“A million times, actually,” Yuki corrects her. “Don’t you want to do something for yourself? Not for the professors or panelists? It won’t hurt you, ya know.”

Oh, but it would. Yeonhee’s already shivering at the idea of being out of a classroom. You’ve been standing here discussing the tension she’s carried all her life. Meanwhile, the professor’s probably gone over a million slides already. 

But she finds herself nodding in agreement. There’s no use denying it. She missed out on so many parties and fun. She abstained from the distractions of dating so much that the idea of letting a guy talk to her is scary. 

Well, except you. She certainly doesn’t mind you at all. Might even… Yeonhee shakes her head. Nope, don’t even think about it. You belong to Yuki—sure, she insists that there’s no label on your odd relationship, but she sees how Yuki burns up when another girl approaches you. 

The look on her face is hard to read. Gently place a hand on her shoulder. “C’mon, Yeonhee. What’s something you’ve always wanted to do?”

Yeonhee looks around, as if afraid anyone would actually catch her being vulnerable. Her fingers nervously smooth the ends of her ponytail. You roll your eyes; Yuki shoots you a dangerous glare and you're obligated to switch on a sympathetic look again.

“Skip class…” she finally mumbles.

You and Yuki share a confused look. Yuki raises her brows. “Skip class?” she asks, just to be sure she heard that correctly.

“I—I haven’t skipped classes the whole year! I haven’t done it ever, actually.”

It sounds ridiculous. You’re definitely not a regular tardy student. Even Yuki has little record of truancy on her file. But of course, Lee Yeonhee takes the dedication to new heights. She’s never missed a class ever. You remember the pity you felt seeing her get into stats with a face mask and a readied roll of tissue. 

Yuki seems to be recalling all of these memories, too. She gives her best friend a one-over—takes note of the tiniest wrinkle between her brows, the dark undereyes, and hands muddled with inked formulas. They’re only ever visible once you get closer to Yeonhee. That’s the way you can see past her friendly student leader persona and find the work she put in for it.

Yuki smiles. “Well, what are you waiting for, baby girl? Come on.”

-

Your professor’s probably wondering where the hell you all are, especially Yeonhee, her star student who she told to call you guys in. Lord knows she can’t rely on you and Yuki for anything. You imagine how she’d react when she finds out you’ve corrupted her, too.

Wince. Okay, corrupted is a strong word. An explicit implication at that. But as much as you try to erase the image from your mind, it’s clear. Yuki drives you crazy, but you certainly wouldn’t mind Yeonhee. She’s got a body under those big sweaters. Talk about those thighs, Jesus.

You wonder if Yuki’d be okay with that. Maybe she would? You aren’t dating anyway (everyone just groans when you say it but it’s true). And right now, she’s letting Yeonhee huddle up to you while she contents herself with running her fingers through your hair. When Yuki does that, all the casual petting and touching, it feels like second nature; just something she does with no thought. 

“Okay, so we have like three months before we get flimsy diplomas and I can say I officially wasted my dad’s money,” Yuki announces it as if it were a statement to the nation. “Our solemn duty, as Yeonhee’s best friends, is to make sure she doesn’t graduate without a little chaos under her belt.”

“Best friends is pushing it,” you mutter, and she squeezes you a little harder. 

Her fingers have migrated to your cheek while she writes notes down on a neat piece of paper. Yeonhee’s eyes narrow at the familiar blue lining. 

“Where’d you get that?” she asks suspiciously, and Yuki shrugs.

“The dean’s office.”

“What?” Yeonhee shouts, or at least, the nearest she can do to a scold. She’s incapable of raising her voice. “He got that from Dubai! That’s stealing… i-it isn’t yours!”

Duh. Yuki sighs. She allows you to roll your eyes this time. You imagine your best friend’s parents didn’t have a hard time raising her in her little gowns, with her perfect manners and curfew. The perfect little girl. Only Yeonhee can make it sound like a bad thing.

“It’s a notepad,” Yuki deadpans. “And this is exactly what I’m talking about. You don’t have to follow every little rule. Do you always want to be a good girl who does as she’s told?”

Yeonhee struggles to find an answer. The ethical dilemma is doing her head in, or maybe it’s the control Yuki so confidently wields around everyone. Even you, but that’s already a given. She holds, touches, and drags you with her everywhere like she’s the boss. It’s her love language, Yeonhee guesses.

Yuki tends to do that with her, too. But she finds that she doesn’t mind it. Probably even likes it.

The restaurant suddenly seems to feel claustrophobic. It’s mere minutes away from the university. The thought of anyone finding you here is spiking Yeonhee’s nerves. “I’m sorry, what are we doing here again?”

“We’re making a bucket list,” you inform her helpfully. “We’re going to check off everything you wanted to do but never got to. You’ve already skipped class, so that’s one off.”

Yuki tosses her hair to one side as she marks skip class. There’s a mischievous grin on her face when she lifts her head up again.

“We’re going to fill this list up. I propose sneaking into that fine ass villa pool. Y’know, the one near mine.”

Yeonhee blinks, but her eyes are sparkling this time. It’s the most excitement you’ve seen in them since… well, since forever. “It’s monitored. And chlorinated.”

“Which is why it’s perfect.” Yuki scribbles it down and hands her friend the ballpen. “Your turn, Yeon.”

Yeonhee chews her bottom lip to prevent herself from protesting. Meanwhile, you’re salivating. You’ve seen Yuki naked before and nothing compares to that, but a gorgeous bikini on her wasn’t bad either. 

There’s a long pause. Yeonhee’s cheeks turn pink. “I’ve always wanted to get a tattoo…”

Your mouth drops. “I didn’t peg you for a badass tattooed girl.”

“Juri suggested we get one together in first year,” admits Yeonhee shyly. She tucks a strand of her hair back. “I was too scared so I said no.”

Yuki mirrors your surprise with an evil smile. “Make it a tramp stamp!” 

“No!”

Fifteen or so minutes later, the three of you have filled your bucket list. The words overflow from the page. It reads:

YEONHEE’S AMAZING BUCKET LIST 

*  Make this the ONLY thing you cram until the end of the year

*  Crash the pool

*   Skip a class we all hate and go get bubble tea in the middle of the day. 

*   Tell Professor Kingston his tie is ugly. (Yuki’s, immediately vetoed by you and Yeonhee in unison. The professor is nuts and you’d rather not be dead before graduation.)

*  Miss a terror prof’s deadline.  (Yeonhee’s, which makes Yuki clutch her heart in dramatic pride.)

* Get a tattoo. 

* Kiss someone.

*  Get a good dicking down!!!!!! (Yuki’s again, waggling her eyebrows.)

At that last one, Yeonhee’s entire face goes pink. “That’s obscene!”

“That’s the point,” says Yuki nonchalantly. “Face it, sweetheart. Everyone needs a little stress relief.”

Her gaze flicks to you. She’d know a lot about that, wouldn’t she? You hate how you look at each other at the same time. Her hand creeps up your thigh and you feel that familiar, hot knot in your gut, but you keep your focus on Yeonhee. 

“You don’t have to do it first,” you offer. “It has to be someone you trust.”

Yeonhee shrugs shyly. Her big brilliant eyes are smiling. You wonder why she’s always shy around you, as if you haven’t been best friends forever. You got each other through every midterm yet she curls up into a ball each time you squeeze her cheek. 

It’s something you’ll have to figure out sooner or later. Yuki’s given you a forkful of cheese pizza.

“Also has to be someone with a big dick,” Yuki says and her friend blushes furiously again. She smiles sweetly at you. “Right, hon?”

“R-Right.”

You try not to choke on the mozzarella. Yuki rests her chin on your shoulder, gently biting your earlobe. She doesn’t care that Yeonhee’s right in front of you or that this is very much a public place. You’re hers—in her head, she’s got every right to stake that claim.

“So,” Yeonhee says just in time to prevent Yuki from jumping you. “Pool first?”

You nod.

“Tomorrow night. Wear your sexiest swimsuit.” Yuki winks. “Or don’t.”

-

Tomorrow can’t come any faster. You’ve been looking forward to it all day. By the end of your last period, you’re practically sprinting to your agreed meet-up point. It’s in the university parking lot, where Yuki’s gorgeous car awaits to take you on your adventure.

Yuki checks her watch with a tsk. Four minutes past the deadline. “Where could that girl be?”

To be fair, it sounds a lot like Yeonhee to chicken out. She’s the epitome of obedience. She probably thought about the laws there were about private property and took the easy way out. 

“She’s scared to death.”

“Well, I can’t blame her,” says Yuki. “I have to admit I started the list off a little strong.”

“You did?” you gasp sarcastically. She rolls her eyes. “No, Yuki, she definitely didn’t get scared because you suggested trespassing.”

Before you could let another teasing remark out, she lets the flannel jacket slip from her arms. Your mouth waters at the thin, red bikini she’s got on. It pushes up her plentiful tits and ties at the deep line of her toned back. Her hips hold up the knots of what you could imagine is the skimpiest pair of bikini bottoms ever.

Yuki smirks as she buttons her jacket again. “Another word and you’re not getting any of this.”

You shut up for the rest of your waiting. Yuki kisses you as a reward but now you’re really fired up. She looks too damn good in that flimsy little set, and you wonder how you’ll hold back all day. It’s impossible for your hands not to end up on her body.

You also wonder how she got through the whole day without anyone noticing. That jacket of hers must have ridden up and shown what’s underneath. The shorts leave nothing to the imagination either. But Yuki has her ways.

Yeonhee scurries to you, almost tripping over pebbles. She looks like she just ran a marathon.

“There you are,” you say, giving her a hug. Quickly grab her duffel bag that looks like it weighs more than her. “I thought you were gonna back out.”

Yeonhee looks around for CCTVs before pulling her shirt off, revealing a skintight rashguard. “Why would I? I’m not a coward.”

“Sure you aren’t,” teases Yuki, but she’s smiling proudly. 

Yeonhee calls shotgun, ever the passenger princess. You suffer in the backseat with their phones, bags, and clothes. The parking lot stones make the road jagged, and you count two times your head knocked into the painfully solid window.

God, it was gonna be a long ride. 

The villa isn’t that far from campus but it feels like it. The traffic is especially hellish today. You take several short naps and you wake up still in the same intersection. It only gets worse as the night falls. Yuki beeps furiously at the cyclists taking up the main lane. 

“Fucking Sunday drivers,” she murmurs.

Yeonhee shakes her head sympathetically. She squints as headlights pour through the windshield. “Maybe they have places to be. Maybe their mom’s looking for them, or they need to go to the hospital.”

Yuki gathers her emotions with a deep sigh. She can’t bring herself to yell at Yeonhee. It’s both shocking and nice to see her practice some self-restraint. You recall how she almost got into a catfight with a girl at the bar, all because the poor girl asked if you were single.

You raise a brow. “On a bicycle. They’re rushing to the ER on a bicycle.”

“Yeah!” Eager to relay the numbers of books she read, Yeonhee nods. “It’s called sonder. Textbook definition is it’s like, the realization that people have lives just as complicated as ours. We all have our own thing.”

“I call it being an idiot who doesn’t know how to drive,” says Yuki irritably.

You and Yeonhee laugh. You’re quickly scolded for blocking the rearview mirror. Yuki rebuckles Yeonhee’s seartbelt and keeps one hand on her knee for the rest of the ride. 

The villa’s fine architecture comes into view. Big, gorgeous houses shadow your figures. You imagine they belong to families with old money dating back centuries, celebrities, or politicians who’ve pocketed more than what they should. Yeonhee looks up at them admiringly. Yuki, on the other hand, jumps off the car like it’s nothing. She’s no stranger to luxury. It’s exactly why you’re confused by her proposal of invading a pool when she has one of her own.

Yeonhee doesn’t know that of course.

You stop in your tracks. “Wait! There’s a guard!” 

Both girls snap their heads to the entrance. Indeed, an armed security guard sits in a chair with his arms crossed. A burnt cigarette hangs between his lips. Rough night, you suppose. It couldn’t be an easy job to protect a stingy, gated community all by yourself. Rich people were scared of everything—places that weren’t airconditioned, mosquitoes, and peddlers. 

Most importantly, they were scared of college students such as yourself trying to sneak into private property. They had every right to be.

You think you regret agreeing to this now. “What do we do?”

There’s a CCTV propped above the gate. The boom barrier cannot be moved unless the guard controls it. And the guard in question has a fucking gun. 

Yuki presses a finger to her lips. “Just follow me.”

You and Yeonhee look at each other in fear. It's impossible that even a wildcat like her could get past this. You offer a prayer that Yuki would set limits tonight. It’s one that would more likely than not go unanswered—Mori Koyuki has never been afraid of anything.

She slowly, surely tiptoes on the grass leading to the wall that surrounds the villa. You follow suit. You can hear Yeonhee whimpering. You accidentally step on a twig, making Yuki glare at you. 

Yuki wraps her hands around the metal, leaning back for leverage, arms flexing with the labor—

“No way—”

—and hoists herself up the wall in one, massive go. Her sneakers scrape the otherwise pure white painting with dirt. Yeonhee muffles her squeal with a sleeve.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” she whispers. You wholeheartedly agree—she’s so off the rails that she made Yeonhee cuss for the first time ever.

Yuki’s grin is sharp. “Try and keep up.”

At this point, you fully believe that if Yuki jumped off a cliff, so would you. Because you find yourself following her, helping Yeonhee over, your hand steady on her elbow. Her denim shorts catch onto the sharp edges. You then rush off into the night, trying to keep your footfalls as quiet as possible.

It takes three turns to finally reach the pool. Perhaps the adrenaline was worth it? Its turquoise walls reach deep into the water, making it look like a real ocean. Corals line the edges with a ladder. It’s the sort of luxury you’d find in high-end resorts.

And here you are swimming in it for free.

Yeonhee’s reflection looks anxious in the water. “Are you sure we should be doing this?”

Yuki puts an arm around her. Her voice is gentle. “We can go back if you want to, but I’m just saying… we’ll miss out on a lot of fun.”

She nods toward you. It’s your cue. You’re the first to break the surface, diving in with a splash that echoes through the silent estate. The water is cool. It isn’t warm enough to sting, but not cold enough to make you shiver. 

Yuki throws her jacket off and steps out of her shorts. Her legs could go on forever. She makes a show of putting her hair down before diving right in.

“Cannonball!” she yells. She crashes right next you, causing a flood to take you down with her. Yeonhee giggles at it all. Finally, she steps right in, albeit settling for the shallower parts of the pool.

For a while, it’s just games. You feel like a kid playing pretend again. You invent “Marco Polo” with a twist, where the “Polo” has to answer a ridiculous trivia question Yeonhee comes up with. It ends with a tie, and Yeonhee, far too kind to declare anybody a loser, says you both win. Yuki organizes a floating race, where you all have to kick from one end to the other without using your arms. 

“You cheated!” Yeonhee yells. It’s the loudest you’ve heard her speak. Wild golden flames dance in her eyes. 

Yuki laughs loudly. “No I didn’t, maybe you need your glasses. You aren’t seeing clearly.”

“I use reading glasses, you—”

She lunges at Yuki. Both of them end up underwater, giggling and yelling. 

Tonight has a lot of firsts. Of course, it’s your first time trespassing (and it’s definitely not something you’d be proud of down the line), but it’s also the first time you see Yeonhee let loose. Like, really let loose. Her hair is tangled from the pool water and sticks to those cheeks that stretch into an infectious smile. You don’t see that smile often. You can tell it’s the same for her best friend, who allows her to win their little “fight” and proposes a rematch.

You have no idea what time it is. Probably seven? Eight? You soon lose the energy in the taxing games you all wage. Yeonhee busies herself with perfecting a handstand she learned in gymnastics. Just how many skills does this girl hace? You shake your head in disbelief as you settle for the edge of the pool. Your muscles are sore. Maybe you strained it earlier from when you were playfully wrestling with Yuki.

Lean against the pool edge, head tipped to the sky. You close your eyes for a while. The light from the pool, lamps, and the moon pierce through your eyelids. It’s been a while since you went swimming. Although you still need to work on your backstrokes, your body feels freer down here than the land above. 

Or so you thought.

A loud splash makes you open your eyes once more. It’s Yuki. Of course it is. 

Only her eyes break above the surface, dark and inviting, making her look like a siren. Uh oh. You know that look too well. It’s the kind she flashes you before pulling you into the nearest staircase well, your hands ending up between her legs. You never had a chance.

Yuki lifts herself up. Water streams down her cleavage. “Wanna play another game?” 

“You’re insatiable. Yeonhee’s right there.”

To your surprise, she doesn’t close on you. Hell, she doesn’t even palm your boner underwater. But she does something more dangerous:

She pushes herself out of the pool. Water streams down her body. There, the moon watches Yuki slip out of her bikini top, then her shorts, letting them fall to the tiles with soft, wet plops.

Yeonhee’s handstand collapses. She stares, wide-eyed, then quickly turns her attention back to the water. Both of your faces are heated. You seem to mirror each other often, especially when it comes to Yuki. The two of you blush when Yuki says another sultry innuendo, flinch when she touches you, and let her do anything she wants. You orbit around her like the sun. 

She dives back into the pool. Yuki swims to you underwater, emerging right in front of you before her arms hang around your neck. Her full, supple body presses to yours. Before you could ask if she was crazy (although you know the answer to that already), her mouth finds you. Her tongue traces the seam of your lips before diving in.

Fuck.

You meet her with equal intensity, your hands finding her waist under the water. The smooth dip of her amazing hips fill your palms. 

Weren’t you hesitating a few seconds ago? You should be telling her that she was insane, that she can’t just skinny dip when Yeonhee was there, that what she’s doing counts for public indecency. 

You can’t find it in you to do it now. 

Yeonhee is floating nearby. “This pool looks like the ones my rich aunt has, she got it for a fortune with the house,” she says, having forgotten what she saw. Or is she pretending not to have seen anything? 

Yuki’s lips break from yours only to whisper, “Keep her talking,” before she kisses you even harder. One of your hands drifts from her waist, sliding down through the water. With how desperate Yuki’s gasping, it’s hard to throw Yeonhee off your scent. But god, will you have to try. You can’t traumatize the poor girl again.

You find her center under the water. The slick sensation between her amazing thighs is undeniable. Even the pool can’t make her this drenched. Your finger slips inside, and she gasps into your mouth, her body arching against you. Move slowly, your thumb finding a rhythm against her clit while your index finger curls inside her.

Yeonhee is now discussing the cleanliness of the pool water. “It’s very well-maintained. Like not even a leaf or something. The people here must pay well.”

Yuki’s breaths come in short bursts against your cheek. It’s like she wants to get caught. Her hips are moving with your hand, eyes closed tight. She bites your lower lip to stifle a moan. Her own hand is fighting the pressure of the water to jerk you off. 

“You think they just… clean this with regular draining?” you ask, your voice remarkably even. Yuki giggles in your shoulder at how stupid you sound. 

“No and yes. With traditional chlorine, of course,” Yeonhee corrects. “If you look closely, you can actually notice how the light throws it off a little. That’s why you don’t see fog or dirt. Assuming they don’t have a natural source, regular cleaning would be better than just wasting water each time someone steps in.”

Whatever that means. Your focus is on Yuki, who trembles in your arms. Her forehead rests against yours. You quickly add another finger. Make it your goal to get her there before Yeonhee realizes what you’re doing. The kiss becomes torrid. You can feel her climax building steadily.

Yeonhee, bless her innocent soul, starts speculating on the villa owner’s nationality based on the garden layout. She says something about how culture often influences design even when said designer creates internationally, but you don’t hear any of it. All you can hear is Yuki’s muffled cry in the crook of your neck. 

Yuki’s body convulses, sharply jerking against you. You keep your digits still so she has something to squeeze down on as she cums. She neglects her strained handjob to squeeze your side. She can’t think clearly. The thrill of it all—the fact that this pool wasn’t hers and that Yeonhee could catch you if she looked the wrong way—gets her off as much as you do.

Slowly, you withdraw your hand. Her kiss is less hungry this time in an attempt to catch her breath. Beneath you, the rapids of the water finally subside. 

Yeonhee finally turns around. You and Yuki immediately look away from each other. Yuki swims a few feet away but Yeonhee already looks suspicious. 

She opens her mouth and you hold your breath for the worst.

“Did you guys hear that? I think a car might be coming.”

The spell breaks. She was right. The unmistakable sound of a revved engine was coming your way. Yuki, with effortless nonchalance, swims to where her clothes lie and starts putting them back on. You dry off your hair the best you can. You can only hope you didn’t leave anything in your panic.

-

Later in the car, Yeonhee’s all smiles. “That was fun!” 

Her hair is wrapped in a towel. Yuki’s long since given up telling you not to wet her seats. But you try your best anyway, changing into a pair of shorts and putting on a cap. She keeps one hand on the steering wheel while she dabs her face with skincare. She puts some on the tip of Yeonhee’s nose and she giggles.

Yuki smiles at her. If she looked at her with more love than she already is, hearts might pop out of her pupils. Seeing her best friend without all the tension in her shoulders is a different type of joy. She’s literally glowing. 

“I told you having fun won’t kill anybody.” She pauses, and looks at the rearview mirror. “Let’s just hope it won’t get us a lawsuit.”

-

Maybe it’s cheating. Maybe it’s a loophole that doesn’t go by the rules you’ve set for the bucket list. But this is about Yeonhee—you two are just in it for the ride. So, several weeks later, you all decide to miss that boring personal development class and push Yeonhee to abstain from her project.

Filling this part of the bucket list is long overdue. Yuki had presentations lined up for each day. Meanwhile, you had to submit several sketches for architecture. But you couldn’t imagine how much busier Yeonhee was compared to the two of you. Two of her organizations required a booth and a meeting, forcing her to play carpenter again plus fish out a few thousand won.

You’re just glad to be in The Cuppa. It’s your safe space. When all the shit you have to do beats you down—particularly toward the end of this semester where your professors unleash all unholy hell on you—this is where you turn to. 

“It’s multi-tasking,” you explain to her, twirling your straw through the boba pearls. Then, to put things in her perspective: “Better than missing a class one day then flunking another project tomorrow, right?”

 You ordered a classic to save your money. Yeonhee goes for a strawberry milk tea. Meanwhile, Yuki opts for this large, delicious milkshake topped with whipped cream and syrup. 

It just begs another question: how the hell does Yuki keep that amazing figure? She’s never been one to go on diets. Right now, she’s chugging a thousand-calorie milkshake with no second thought about it. She never fails to keep you guessing.

The anxious taps of Yeonhee’s ballerina flat breaks your trail of thought. She’s staring longingly at her laptop. It’s at the edge of the table, closed and locked so as not to tempt her. She gives you an accusing look.

“What?” you ask.

She pouts. “You two are a bad influence.”

Yuki laughs heartily. “Oh please,” she says, waving a hand through the air. “That personal development class does nothing anyway. They should’ve kept that shit in first year.”

She gestures around, as if to say, look, you’re having way more fun out here than in some boring classroom. She seems to be the only one appreciating the added bubble tea menu. The Cuppa has a gorgeous, homely aesthetic with relaxing Sade tunes in the background. Not to mention the generous discount given because Yeonhee had connections with Eunbi, the manager. But the girl is still biting her nails nervously.

“Besides,” adds Yuki sweetly, “I’ve got enough personality already. I don’t need that class.”

Yeonhee quirks her lip. “Thank you for that really helpful insight.”

Yuki smirks. It’s rare for Yeonhee to be feisty. It does annoy her, however, that she’s letting out some of that bitchiness over a useless course of all things.

Sensing that nothing is getting to her, you jump in to help. Place your drink on the table for a minute. The tissue complete with The Cuppa logo sticks to the moisture forming around the plastic.

“Look, if this is about the deadline—”

“Yes, it’s about the deadline—”

“—then you deserve the break anyway.” You open Yeonhee’s laptop to show her the island of notifications from her group. One after the other, each message reads of panic. “You carried the dissertation on your back. It’s time they do their part.”

@/KimYeonhee where are you?? 😣 We need you, one message from Yunkyoung reads. It’s followed by a screenshot of a ridiculously constructed paragraph.

Another from Suyun says, hey idk why you’re inactive but… where’s the doc Yunkyoung’s talking about? Is this the map plan LOL

Too many people take advantage of Yeonhee’s infinite patience. For so long, she let them take another three hours of sleep while she lost hers fixing the bibliography. She was the one who sought credible sources both offline and online. 

Now that she’s found temporary freedom from it, Yeonhee feels… odd. The darkness under her eyes was gone, replaced by a healthy softness to her cheeks. She’s radiant again but losing the weight of work is something she’s definitely not used to. She was accustomed to fitting her schedule between deadlines and writing up another paper. 

Yeonhee looks two seconds away from typing in her PIN and getting back on the Google Doc. “But what if they don’t submit it on time?”

“It doesn’t matter. Professor Goeun is well aware that you’ve been doing all the work. Your groupmates should be the ones worrying, not you. You have to put yourself first.”

“I—I know but it just feels so wrong—”

Before you know it, Yeonhee bursts into tears. She covers her face with her hands, shaking in fear. Her frame is so tense, so paralyzed with anxiety that your heart breaks. You wonder if you’ve taken this too far. This one’s on you. You should’ve checked with her to see if this whole ordeal was okay.

Alarmed, Yuki wraps her arms around her. “Hey,” she coos softly. She runs her fingers through the girl’s hair.  “Hey, you’re alright. You’re fine. What’s the matter?”

Yeonhee wipes her tears with her wrist. You offer her some tissues, and she accepts gladly. Her face is flushed red. The tears that puff her face make her look like someone far younger, someone who’s just been brought into the real world and has no idea what to do.

“We’re sorry. We shouldn’t have taken it this far.”

She shakes her head. “No, it’s not that.” The tiny smile on her face is genuine. “I actually had a lot of fun. This is the most fun I’ve had since… well, forever.”

You relax a little. At least you know now that she isn’t crying because you took it too far. The normal fun you and Yuki have could be extreme for her. This was a girl who had gone by the rules all her life, from the dress code to deadlines. 

“Well, thank goodness.” Relief washes over Yuki’s face. That’s what matters, isn't it? She holds Yeonhee tighter. “Then why are you crying? Did we say something wrong?”

“Not at all. It’s just that—” Yeonhee hiccups a little, a sound caught between a sob and a groan. She lifts her slim shoulders. “I’ve never heard anyone tell me to put myself first.”

In the silence that hangs in the air, you could almost hear your heart and Yuki’s shatter. Yeonhee bows her head once more. Fat teardrops land on the fabric of her skirt.

You’ve accused people before of taking Yeonhee the wrong way. Yuki told you that she was bullied in high school by people who made her do their homework. She was called names for the sin of being dedicated to her studies. 

But you find out now that you’ve misinterpreted her, too. Doesn’t matter if it was unintentional. She wasn’t doing the whole neat freak thing for fun. Nobody who was sane would do that. She was doing it because it was what she was used to. People expected her to fit the good girl stereotype, fitting her into a box since she was a teenager. People lounged back while relying on her to do the dirty work.

You cup her tiny, adorable face in your hands. “Well, you’re hearing it now.”

You thumb away a tear that trickles down her cheek and give her a quick, sweet kiss. Her lipbalm tastes like cherries.  

It’s an impulsive thing to do. You know how these always end up. Curse yourself for putting your heart over your head again. But when you pull away, Yeonhee’s smiling gratefully. 

She’s your friend. She’s got your back and you don’t have to be scared around her. 

You search for any anger in Yuki’s face, already preparing to be scolded, but you find none. Instead, she interlocks her fingers with Yeonhee’s. “Remember we’re doing this for you,” she tells her. “You call the shots. We can stop anytime you want.”

The look in Yuki’s eyes, only reserved for you and Yeonhee, is so tender that it feels like you shouldn’t be witnessing their exchange.  They’ve been linked before you even came along: braiding each other’s hair in high school, teaming up for entrance exams, and now, finishing college together. Together, like they’ve always been.

You have the good sense to leave, but then Yuki pulls you in to join the hug. Your eyes close. The warmth of the embrace somehow heals part of you that you never knew needed closure. They’re the friends you prayed for when you had nobody. They’re the closest and realest friends you’ve ever had, and it’s a scary thought, but you truly don’t know what to do without them.

Yeonhee finally starts to laugh. Minutes ago, she was drowned by appreciation for you, and now you’re sandwiching her in a hug. She gently pushes you away with a sniffle.

“You guys are so corny,” she says. “You’re lucky I love you.”

-

One of the many things Kim Yeonhee missed out on is the night life.

Every college student has dipped into it once or twice. Personally, you started seeing the beauty of it after a particularly horrible score. You went out with Yuki, had drinks, sat by the Han River, everything. It was a vice best handled at arm’s length. You knew that if you went regularly, a lot of things would go sideways.

Tonight, only the neon lights from the clubs of Gangnam illuminate the streets. This was the rich kid’s playground—everywhere you turn and look, your wallet practically begs to be emptied. There’s clothes, liquor, and tattoo shops. Samgyupsals are the biggest attraction here, but you didn’t get all dressed up to eat.

Graduation is in a week and you’re here to have unfiltered, shameless fun.

“Do you think you could handle it?” Yuki had asked Yeonhee, her voice tinged with concern. And it seemed as if she should ask the same to you—she has on black leather shorts, a crop top, and a bold lipstick that makes you want to pin her to the wall right there and then. Jesus. How could you handle all of that?

Yeonhee looked around. The wild landscape of the city was a panorama reflecting on her sunglasses. “We didn’t commute all the way here for nothing. I’m not going to chicken out now.”

This was not the Kim Yeonhee you know. Your Yeonhee sways around in little coquette skirts and ribboned top. This one had on a red dress that clung to her body, cut at the sides to show that deadly waist. 

Yuki did the honors of doing Yeonhee’s hair and makeup. The almond shape of her eyes looks more dangerous with the sharp eyeliner. 

You only noticed now the slight fang she has in the corner of her mouth, making her look like a vampire bathed in neon. You gulp. Yuki must have noticed your reaction, but if she did, she doesn’t say anything. Her knowing smirk says enough. 

You party so much you don’t think you could attend the graduation afterparty. This night alone is equivalent to all the parties you’ll have in the future, enough to fill the gaps of your wedding and first car. The alcohol hums in your veins like little jolts of electricity, making your mind fuzzy. Your thoughts blur into one another and dictate your hands around Yuki’s waist. You always turn to her when you’ve got some in your system. Her familiar, reliable touch gets you down.

It cuts the same way for her, too. Yuki, damn her, presses her cute ass flush against your hard-on. The skirt lifts and pins to your stomach. 

Yuki starts to move, igniting a fire with the friction of fabric and flesh on your erection. She raises her arms as she dances. There’s no need for pretense anyway. Everyone’s either doing the same thing you are or perhaps chatting their way into someone’s pants. But Yuki loves subtlety, no matter how bad she is at maintaining it.

You groan against her ear. “God—” A hundred bodies dance in huddles around you yet hers is the most magnetic. Nothing can pull you off her, not with those curves and waist.

She giggles, letting her head fall into your shoulder. Her hair against your ear muffles the Ne-Yo they’ve got booming through the speakers. Through the noise, you hear her, sultry and clear: “Are you gonna do it? Gonna cum on my ass in front of all these people?”

“If you keep doing that, I will.”

Your grip on her hips grows tighter. Your groans and whines are a symphony as Yuki does exactly what you fear and want. She bends over a little, shaking those cute cheeks into your core, and directs her grinding to the center of her shorts. You can feel how soaked she is in so little time. 

She looks back at you, biting her lip. “You know she’s watching us, right?”

Although you’re drunk, it’s not difficult to know who she’s talking about. Yeonhee, your brilliant, beautiful friend, has gone away to get herself some drinks. She’s a big girl, right? She said so herself. You and Yuki felt comfortable enough to let her into the crowd and have some fun. But while she was gone, you were going to have some fun, too.

And you see her over Yuki’s shoulder. She’s just… standing there, glued to her place on the dance floor at the sight of you and Yuki. She stays there despite several wild moves from the girl in the tube dress and a guy who, when he saw her eyes on you, decided she might not be interested in him. You move to still Yuki’s hips, but to your shock, she doesn’t let herself be held back.

No. Yuki looks straight at Yeonhee as she rubs into you harder. Even flashes her a wicked smile.

You burn up for a different reason. This isn’t the first time Yeonhee caught you—this was just one of the several traumatizing moments she found Yuki unable to keep her hands off you. Now, she’s unlucky enough to see you dryhumping her in a public place. You hope this time, she commends you for choosing the club, which is shameless enough to let it pass.

“I—” Yeonhee’s words die just when they’re about to leave her mouth. She should’ve expected this, right? 

Yuki pouts mockingly. “Is there something wrong, Yeonhee?”

Yeonhee realizes there’s no use in giving you your drinks. She had to fight a stampede for them, too. She sets them on a table, wondering what she should say. She has so many questions. The curiosity might kill her if she bites her tongue. 

“Why are you looking at him like that…” asks Yeonhee. It’s two in the morning, she’s slightly tipsy, and right now, you’re starting to look really good all worked up.

You could feel the bass of the music pump in your chest. It grows rhythmless when you realize Yuki is, in fact, undressing you with her eyes. She doesn’t even stop grinding on you. She has no problem showing everyone what she likes to do to you.

And hearing the innocent possessiveness in Yeonhee’s voice takes you higher than any drug. 

“Am I not allowed to?” Yuki laughs, taking no offense because Yeonhee clearly meant none. The girl was only curious, almost naive. “I’m just trying to figure out the perfect place for the tattoo. We talked about it earlier, remember.”

She isn’t totally lying. To finally complete the bucket list, all three of you had agreed on the friendship tattoo you’ll get. Yeonhee volunteered quotes, but when she heard the vulgar double entendres Yuki suggested, that was quickly shot down. You finally settled for a small moon (you), star (Yeonhee), and a planet (Yuki.) You don’t know when you got sidetracked from going to the tattoo parlor. You’re willing to bet it was when Yuki saw Swan again after a while near the entrance. One thing led to another, and now you’re here in this extremely compromising position.

Yeonhee doesn’t buy it; her cheeks are cherry red. She manages a little white lie anyway because, well, you were her boyfriend. Yuki might not like labels but that gives her no right to stake her claim over you. “I was just concerned.”

“Are you jealous?” 

Both you and Yeonhee stop dead in your tracks. 

“What?” 

Yuki stops grinding against you. She has another idea, and Mori Koyuki isn’t one to have hesitation. Her hips sway as she approaches Yeonhee.

“Do you want me to look at you like I look at him?” she asks, and does exactly that: shamelessly letting her dark eyes wander over her amazing body. She knows more about Yeonhee beyond that steadfast dedication to her degree and her favorite color. She knows what she’s hiding under those big clothes.

Yeonhee looks like she’s going to explode. You’re both speechless as Yuki circles her like prey. 

(Not far off. See the scene earlier, before you booked a taxi to Gangnam:

“No offense,” said Yuki as she towered over her, putting mascara on her fine lashes, “it’s fine to be cute, really. But it’s getting old. We know you’re capable of being a hottie.”

They were on top of each other on the rocking bed. You tried not to look but there was a clear, mutual feeling between you and Yeonhee. You had no idea how to handle an enigma like Yuki, especially when she had you wrapped around her little finger. She knew that well.

Yeonhee attempted to move, but was held back by Yuki pressing her weight more firmly on top of her. She still had to do her eyeshadow. The smokey color on her eyelids made the flustered color on her cheeks more obvious. Funny. Yuki hadn’t put blush on her yet.)

Yeonhee’s throat bobs. So often do words fail her when she’s around Yuki, when the younger girl sizes her up like this. With them, the fact that she’s older is completely disregarded, honorifics out the window, the pointless performative respect gone. Yuki already claimed the upper hand.

She wields control like it’s nothing. “Oh, you’ve been dreaming of it, haven’t you, baby?”  she asks. Yeonhee doesn’t shake her head. “I’m right, aren’t I? You want me to fuck you like I fuck him.”

Wait wait wait, this was absofuckinglutely nowhere on the bucket list, you scream in your head. You can’t tear your eyes off the scene in front of you. It’s the way Yuki drives her crazy, and how Yeonhee doesn’t even make a move to fight or deny anything. Whatever Yuki’s saying is the plain truth, in all its obscenity. Her flimsy excuses won’t hold up in court, where the jury’s taken Yuki’s side. A unanimous ruling in Yuki’s favor.

That’s just how the world works for her. Yuki gets what she wants no matter what.

 “I—” Yeonhee stammers nervously. What percentage of her life has been spent cowering and blushing around Yuki? The words often die on her tongue when she gets close. No one can say no to her.

Not even a mathematician like Yeonhee can calculate it fast enough before Yuki puts her lips on hers.

Yeonhee goes still. Yuki’s hand cups the side of her face so she could slip her tongue inside, capturing her mouth even harder. She could feel the heat radiating from Yeonhee’s cheek on her fingertips. She liplocks her more passionately, making it something she’d never forget, putting on a show for you. Their tongues pass over each other, plump lips soft.

She smiles as she pulls away. To you, it felt a lot longer than that. Your cock strains in your pants while Yeonhee looks positively turned on. Yearning’s etched all over her blushing features. 

“Well, that’s one off the list,” Yeonhee jokes, trying to pretend as if it were nothing. You share awkward laughs to brush it off. Hate that there aren’t automatic sitcom laughs to hold up.

 But she knows that was an unwise decision when Yuki places a hand on her waist.

“Want to check off another one?”

-

Yuki would do anything for her best friend.

They’ve known each other since the days of puppy love and hormonal acne. Seeing each other grow up was a privilege. It’s the kind of thing that sustains a friendship. They took entrance exams together, cried over exes, everything. Yuki knows they’d do it all over again to preserve what they had.

And so when she checks in to a five star hotel suite just to fill up the last of the bucket list, she knows Yeonhee would do the same if need be.

You’d argue that it was ridiculous to spend so much for the sole purpose of fucking. The premise itself was ridiculous. But you can’t exactly complain when you’ve got Yeonhee’s hungry lips on your mouth, and Yuki kissing the back of your neck. You feel her teeth sink into your shoulder and you groan helplessly. You’re stuck between two magnets that are both attracted to you. There’s nowhere to run. 

You don’t plan to.

If news gets out before graduation and makes it onto the university’s gossip page, this is the best excuse you can come up with: all of you were pretty drunk.

But lord knows that with or without alcohol, you can’t say no to the girls’ amazing bodies. Your hands are attached infinitely to Yeonhee’s waist. Occasionally, you reach back to cup Yuki’s cheek, pulling her closer to you.

Yeonhee finally pulls away. It’s like your breaths were sealed into a vacuum and left you in this expensive suite, with her bra half unclasped and Yuki’s lipstick already smeared. Only they can make you sweat in an airconditioned room.

You’ve found her nipple, twisting it under that excuse of a dress. She heaves a delicate sigh. She’s so sensitive. Each little touch causes the sweetest noises to spill from her pretty mouth. “God,” she whines, breathless, “you’re such a good kisser.”

Yuki smirks. “You’ve been missing out on a lot more than French kisses, Yeonhee.”

As if to show off the example, she gropes your clothed cock. It’s making a dent through your boxers. Yeonhee can’t take her eyes off it. You’ve never quite seen this needy look on her before. It suits her, to be honest, but god, you really did corrupt her, didn’t you? She looks far from the good girl she was months ago. 

Or maybe she was never the good girl she claimed to be. Perhaps her eyes lingered longer than they should when she caught you and Yuki going at it, or watched your arms around each other, wishing for something she didn’t quite understand.

The thought makes you shiver. The temperature provides some refuge, sort of, reaching an all-time high when Yuki pulls your boxers down. Her fist is a velvet grip around your length. She jerks you off quickly, making your knees buckle as she twists her hand around. She giggles at the precum leaking from your tip. 

“Aww, did I turn you on too much? You’re so fucking hard and you aren’t even inside me yet.”

Yuki leaves an open-mouthed kiss on your shoulder while Yeonhee watches, too stunned to even speak. She’s squirming. She wants to slip her hand under her dress the moment Yuki’s kisses turn into little love bites. Your flesh is peppered with the stain of Yuki’s lipstick under purple bruises sure to hurt tomorrow. 

Your teeth grit against each other. It’s impossible to cope with the smooth friction of Yuki’s hand. You can’t even survive Yeonhee’s sultry gaze alone.

Yuki nods at Yeonhee. Her other hand strokes the bone of your hip. “Get on your knees, gorgeous. Show him how badly you want that dick.”

Curse under your breath. What’s happening now is a fantasy you’ll never admit to having. Nobody can beat this information out of you. 

But Yeonhee seems to already know. She looks hypnotized as she sinks to the floor. She doesn’t even hesitate. Her dress looks better on the carpet. A fast fashion piece like that doesn’t deserve to drape Yeonhee’s wide hips, or those perky tits just begging to be played with. 

Tighten your abs to keep you from blowing. Each scene unfolding at this very moment is a dream come true. The loss of Yuki’s quick hand on your cock feels foreign. You were used to always touching each other, joining your bodies so often that a few centimeters apart feels like hell. 

No matter: Yeonhee brings you right back to heaven with her lips on your shaft.

Her tongue drags a trail of hot drool on your underside. She’s an amateur, her skills unable to parallel with Yuki’s. But she’s getting there for sure. Besides, Yuki had the unfair advantage of blowing you a million times. There was that one under the table as you gamed, or some mornings ago when she felt your cum was a better alternative to milk. You can appreciate the innocent lapping at the sensitive flesh of your balls and cockhead.

“Oh, don’t be a tease now, Yeonhee.” Yuki kneels next to the older girl. “You’ve done that for far too long.”

Their lewd conversation is an aphrodisiac, you swear. Hearing Yuki guide her friend in blowing you feels straight out of your dreams. Have you maxed your luck out? You can’t aim higher than this: having two gorgeous girls prepare to drain your cum. 

When Yeonhee’s wet mouth greets your dick, it’s final. You don’t want to wake up from this dream. 

Your head falls back. You stumble a little, overwhelmed by the sensation of that vibrating whimper and that tongue of hers. You fall back against the edge of the bed. A few inches slip out from the clench of her lips. But it’s back once she’s gotten her hands on your quads to help her out.

Your sex is completely drenched with her work. She sucks you off harder before she pulls away for a breather. Her shoulders rise in sync with her heavy panting. A string of spit connects her swollen lips to you. 

Then she goes in for the kill. Yeonhee pushes herself forward and welcomes you into her tight throat. Your knuckles turn pale on the edge of the mattress. 

“Jesus, Yeon…” Can’t even get her name out. Her lips are glossed with drool as she takes you. Her soft cheeks hollow and you’re able to dent the skin gently with your tip. The feel of the side of her cheeks alone makes you shiver. It isn’t even that which makes you weak at the knees, gripping at the edge of the hotel bed. It’s the fucking pace she sets, too fast even for her to keep up with, reintroducing your girth into the column of her throat. It brings tears into those pretty eyes.

You have to fist your hand in Yeonhee’s glossy hair when she starts to gag a little. The contraction of her throat has your toes curling, and you have to remind yourself that you aren’t allowed to pull her hair or force your cock deeper even if she wanted to. There’s a boundary here that is still there despite how blurred it is. She’s still your best friend.

But then Yuki breaks the tension and fixes her fingers over yours in Yeonhee’s hair. She starts to force Yeonhee’s head down your cock, guiding her back and forth. You feel Yeonhee’s grip on your thighs grow tighter. 

“Y-Yuki, what the hell!” you gasp. Your muscles wound tight, the friction of Yeonhee’s throat and deliciously plump lips torturing you. You want to reprimand Yuki, tell her Yeonhee’s not ready for that. Let her take her time. She’s not as wild as she is. 

But Yeonhee doesn’t even fight the pressure any less than you fight to free yourself from the overwhelming pleasure. Encouraged by Yuki’s stern fingers curled on her scalp, she takes in quick breaths through her nose (or tries to) as she takes your cock. Her whimpers only add to the pleasure when they buzz against you. 

Guilt is what you should feel in this situation. Yeonhee always pushes herself to take more than what she can. Her hands deftly play with your balls, eyes trained on your face to see if she’s doing well, your cock from tip to base pleasured by those deadly lips. But it’s only mindnumbing ecstasy that envelops you now—no thoughts, no consequences, only Yeonhee and that fuckable face.

“That’s it, pretty girl,” says Yuki in a whisper. Her grip loosens and then becomes almost comforting. She’s stroking Yuki’s strands, wiping away the stray tears and assessing the bruises. “Always knew you could do it. You just wanted to be a cocktease this whole time.”

Whatever. You’d say those months before this night spent filling up the bucket list paid off in the end. You’re going to cum. The furious bobs of Yeonhee’s face are throwing you over the edge.

Much to your disappointment, Yuki keeps her from finishing the job. Her glistening lips depart from your aching dick with an obscene pop. And lord, Yeonhee looks utterly wrecked. Her hair, which was done with hairspray and attentive combing, falls down her shoulders in a mess. 

And through all that, Yeonhee still looks like the prettiest girl in the world.

She whines in protest. “What’d you do that for? I was getting so good.”

“That’s only the beginning,” replies Yuki simply. “Doesn’t count until he really gets that big thing inside you.”

You’re too fucked out to even see right. It’s the alcohol or something,, blurring things together and making up what isn’t there. But if the scene of Yuki reaching under Yeonhee’s legs and stroking her is real, that’s just another surprise of the night. 

Yeonhee purrs at the feeling. She’s drunk with pleasure. She’ll have a hard time weaning herself off the feeling of Yuki’s fingers against her soaked center. You know the feeling too well.

She’s made a mess through her panties already. Yuki focuses the pressure on her clit, making the girl squirm and finding relief in clinging to your flexed arm. “Yuki, please…”

“No, don’t look at me like that. Be a big girl and tell him straight up what you want.’

Yeonhee lifts her head to you. The light seems to single her out, contouring each perfect shape on her face and figure. Where do you even start to look—her glorious thighs wet with her own slick or those eyes that, for the first time, hold your gaze?

“Want you to fuck me,” she says. “Want you to make me cum so hard I can’t think. Please, I deserve it. I’ve waited so long.”

The filth in those words is ridiculous, so removed from the Yeonhee who wouldn’t curse even if nobody could hear her. The raw confession is a direct trigger to the blood rushing to your shaft. Waited so long. 

Maybe that’s why you lift her onto the bed carelessly. 

Maybe that’s why you tower over her as you hold her legs together, all sane thought out of the window at the sight of the dress bunching up at her hips.

Maybe that’s why despite all the reasons why you shouldn’t do this, you slip your length between her thighs and realize you’ve forever dreamed of doing that. 

The combined wetness from the previous blowjob and the waterfall between her thighs makes you tremble. She’s so fucking wet. Her thighs are slick and allow you to set a mindless pace, chasing after the soft friction they provide. The underside of your cock grinds against her pussy lips, hitting her clit along the way and making her whimper.

“Please, oh god, please—” Her eyes screw shut. It feels way too good. Each part of her tight body is screaming for you to fuck her. The poor thing’s about to cry from desperation.

Yuki, definitely not allowing herself to go without a little gratification, climbs over the bed. Her clothes join Yeonhee’s on the floor. She straddles Yeonhee’s shoulders, lowering herself until she’s seated fully on Yeonhee’s face. Yeonhee makes a little sound of surprise. But if there’s anything you know about Yuki, one taste always makes people come back for more. Once they get their tongue in her mouth or on her clit, it becomes an addiction. It’s the kind you never want to recover from. 

So it’s no surprise when Yeonhee’s hands come up to grip Yuki’s hips. She starts lapping at the soaked flesh eagerly, tongue running along her folds. You can hear just how well she’s eating Yuki out, how wet she’s making her from the obscene sounds filling the suite. 

It’s final. You have to relieve yourself.

You withdraw from the clasp of Yeonhee’s thighs. Sweat shimmers on your bodies. You position yourself at her entrance, and although Yuki’s insane midriff blocks you from her view, you can picture how needy she is, written all over her face and in the way she’s frantically eating Yuki out.

“Fuck!” You can’t take it any longer. Finally, finally push into her. Her spasming walls grip onto you like they won’t dare you to go anywhere. “Yeonhee, you’re so goddamn tight.”

You can barely move. Her pussy has a death grip on you. You can only manage to get more of yourself inside when her walls flutter. 

Yeonhee moans into Yuki’s cunt. You set a deep, relentless pace, each thrust driving her harder into the mattress. Your moans blend into theirs. It’s filthy. You’re hypnotized by how your cock dents the flat of Yeonhee’s tummy, how Yuki’s riding grows more erratic. Her thighs bear the indentations of Yeonhee’s fingernails. 

The only sensation is dizzying pleasure and heat. You’re a triangle of sin, grinding and moaning and pushing against each other. You’ve no idea how it got to this point, but you never want to leave.

“I’m so fucking close,” whimpers Yuki. Her thighs crush Yeonhee’s head. Her hips crash into her mouth again and again. There’s no room to breathe. Her pitchy moans turn into screams. “Oh my god!”

It’s Yuki who shatters first, trembling against Yeonhee’s face. Her juices flood the girl’s mouth and down to the sheets. It dribbles down her chin in messy drops. Soon, you feel the convulsion of Yeonhee’s own body around you, triggered by Yuki’s climax and the overwhelming fullness. Her hole seals around you as she cries out.

“Don’t stop,” orders Yuki. Her voice is rough and low. She dismounts Yeonhee’s mouth so you can hear the full extent of her screams, how good you’re making her feel. “You’re not going anywhere until you cum inside her.”

That’s something you won’t hesitate to obey. Yeonhee’s ecstatic face pulls you over the edge immediately after. Each heavy thrust is met with a bounce of her tits. You fall forward into them before painting her walls with thick cum. 

It’s a total mess. You pity the hotel staff who will have to clean up this room tomorrow. Your cum spills out of Yeonhee’s pussy and into the sheets. Lipstick stains the pillows as a permanent reminder of what happened here. Take a mental note to leave a big tip as a formal apology.

A minimum of a hundred dollars, maybe?

The two women lie panting on the bed. Messy streaks of hair circle Yeonhee’s head like a halo. You smirk. It would be fitting if you hadn’t just creampied her. At least Yuki isn’t pretending to be a saint. Once you’ve got the energy to pull yourself up, tear your body away from theirs, she stops you.

“Where do you think you’re going, boy toy?”

You freeze. Accusation’s written all over Yuki’s face. It’s a challenge you always lose.

“Have you forgotten about me?” Yuki asks. Her mile-long legs have a clear path to you. “You still have to fill my ass up.”

She captures your lips again. The protest dies in your throat. You’ll always give in to her, no matter what, and she knows this well. Her lips taste like strawberry chapstick.

You rub your hand against her arousal, and press a finger against Yuki’s other entrance. She stiffens for a second, then nods frantically against your mouth. Yes, she seems to say without the need for words, yes, please. You replace your fingers with the head of your cock; she lets out a sound that’s pure ecstasy. The teasing penetration is slower, but the chills still run down your back. Her puckered hole is begging to be ruined.

“Stand up,” you command, your voice rough.

Yuki obeys. Sex is the only time you have a semblance of control over her. She quickly retrieves a bottle of lube from the side table drawer. You’re puzzled. She must have kept it in her bag, smirked at the bouncer when he realized what it was.

She turns around and presents herself to you, her shorts around her ankles. You come behind her and help to pull her panties down. 

Yuki lets out a choked sob of anticipation. The leather of the ottoman is cool against her forehead. The crown of your cock kisses the tight rim of her asshole.

“Watch and learn, Yeonhee,” you murmur, and in time with her exhale, you push inside.

She’s a hot vise around you. Yuki lets out a vulgar cry that morphs into a moan. She sounds more and more broken as more inches of your shaft pierce through her plump ass.

Each thrust jolts through her slender frame. The ottoman creaks. Yuki’s knuckles are white where she grips it. Her moans are continuous now, mixed with your name and Yeonhee’s. The latter’s glassy eyes are fixed on the two of you. 

“Fuck, oh fuck, Just like that! Ruin my asshole!”

You feel the coil in your gut tighten. It’s a pressure you know all too well. You reach around Yuki’s hip, your fingers finding her clit, rubbing hard, fast circles.

It sends her over the edge immediately. Her body clamps down on you in rhythmic pulses, pulling the orgasm from you with violent force. You bury yourself to the hilt as far as you can go. Your hands take leverage on her hips as you drive yourself in her asshole again and again.

You slowly pull out. Yuki’s legs feel like jelly. She slumps against the ottoman. You’d help her up but your own bones feel broken. You collapse against the bed beside your other friend. All of you are thoroughly spent. 

“See?” Yuki whispers. Her finger traces Yeonhee’s lower lip. “Now you’ll know what to do next time.”

-

No matter how filthy your story is, it remains what it is: one that shows how fast you grow up. You’ve grown a few inches taller (can’t say the same for the girls), but none the wiser. You’re still young. Graduating won’t magically make you know what to do with your life. A good course doesn’t guarantee a good job. Even Yeonhee’s high grades won’t mean a high salary. If worse comes to worst, you’ll all have to beg Yuki to let you move in with her.

She’d probably call the two of you dumbasses. You’d reason that she has another house anyway—she’s the one who’s got it easier while you and Yeonhee have unsure tomorrows ahead of you. She’d roll her eyes again before agreeing anyway.

But that’s what you think will happen. For now, it’s this:

A furious matriarch knits her brows at the glitchy footage in front of her. She raises a finger in the poor guard’s face and asks why the hell he couldn’t afford better videos when she pays him so well. Now, the pool is ruined and it’s his fault. He failed to protect the villa from three people who could’ve been burglars if they hadn't had a little luck.

“What is this, a charity house? How the hell did they get in?”

“I’m sorry, ma’am—”

“I want you to find out who they are or I’ll have you fired!” she screams, and that’s that. He couldn’t lose his job.

He asks a friend of a friend if they can upscale the video. She does, but the quality of the original is so low that the aftermath is still incomprehensible. The three culprits’ faces are still pixelated. 

All the evidence left at the scene won’t help either. It’s only a wet piece of paper. It’s drenched through the material, resulting in the only readable line being:

dick !!!!!!