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She was surrounded by her usual orbit of friends, her dark hair pulled back in a messy ponytail, cheeks flushed from whatever joke had just landed. Lee Jiheon. Third-year. Psychology major. The kind of person who remembered the cafeteria lady's birthday and actually meant it when she asked how your day was going. Not that she'd ever asked you.

You stabbed the chicken cutlet with more force than necessary. Stupid. This was stupid. You were twenty-two years old, not some hormonal teenager who couldn't keep his eyes to himself. But Jiheon had been your stupid secret for over a year now, ever since she'd held the door for you during a rainstorm and smiled like you actually mattered. You'd replayed that three-second interaction more times than you'd care to admit, each replay wearing the memory a little thinner, a little more pathetic.

The cutlet had gone cold. You kept eating anyway.

"You're in my seat."

The voice came from behind you, and your stomach dropped into some deeper cavity of your body where it could shrivel and die in peace. You recognized that tone—half amusement, half malice, the vocal equivalent of someone poking a caged animal with a stick just to watch it flinch.

Park Sohyun dropped her tray onto the table with a clatter that made the nearby students glance over. She slid into the seat across from you without waiting for permission, because why would she? Permission implied you had a choice.

"Didn't answer my texts," she said, popping a piece of tteokbokki into her mouth. "Rude."

You hadn't received any texts. You'd blocked her number two months ago after she'd sent you a series of increasingly creative insults at three in the morning. You'd changed your number last week.

"I was busy," you muttered.

"Busy." Sohyun chewed thoughtfully, her dark eyes fixed on you with that unsettling intensity she always seemed to carry. She was pretty in a sharp way—angular jaw, full lips that usually curved into a smirk, the kind of face that made people nervous without knowing why. "Doing what? Staring at Jiheon again?"

Your jaw tightened. The kimchi turned to ash in your mouth.

"Don't know what you're talking about."

"Sure you don't." Sohyun leaned forward, and you caught a whiff of her perfume—something floral and expensive that seemed entirely at odds with her personality. "You know, you're not exactly subtle. Head down, earbuds in, but your eyes track her around the room like a sad little puppy. It's almost cute. Almost."

You didn't respond. Years of experience had taught you that engaging with Sohyun was like pouring gasoline on a fire—you always ended up burned, and she always ended up entertained.

"Nothing to say?" She tilted her head. "Come on. Give me something. I'm bored."

"Find someone else to entertain you."

"But you're my favorite." The way she said it made the words sound like a threat. "You never fight back. It's refreshing. Everyone else gets all huffy and offended, but you just… take it. Like you think you deserve it or something."

You risked a glance at her face. There was something flickering behind her expression—curiosity, maybe, or the particular kind of hunger that came from finding a puzzle she couldn't immediately solve.

"I don't think I deserve it," you said quietly. "I just don't care enough to react."

The lie tasted familiar on your tongue. You cared. Of course you cared. The insults burrowed under your skin like parasites, and at night, in the darkness of your studio apartment, you replayed them on a loop until your chest ached with something too exhausted to be anger. But showing Sohyun that vulnerability would be like bleeding in front of a shark.

Her eyes narrowed slightly—the only indication that your response had landed somewhere unexpected. Then she laughed, short and sharp.

"Bullshit," she said. "But okay. Keep your secrets." She stood up, grabbing her tray. "See you around, loser."

She said it with the casualness of someone commenting on the weather. Loser. As if that single word encapsulated everything you were and everything you'd ever be.

You watched her walk away, hips swaying with a confidence that felt almost aggressive, and you wondered—not for the first time—what you'd done to earn her attention. You'd never spoken to her before she'd started targeting you. Never looked at her wrong. Never existed in her orbit until she'd decided to pull you into it.

Some people just needed someone to step on, you supposed. And you'd made yourself very easy to step on.

The library was your refuge. Third floor, back corner, the section nobody visited because the books were outdated and the heating was broken. You'd discovered it during your first year, and it had become something of a second home—a place where the silence felt intentional rather than imposed.

Today, though, the silence felt heavy. Your ribs still ached from where you'd twisted wrong during your morning run, and your mind kept drifting back to Sohyun's words. Like you think you deserve it.

Did you? That was the question that kept you up at night. Years of isolation had a way of warping your self-perception, turning every rejection into evidence, every silence into confirmation. You'd stopped trying to make friends after high school. Stopped reaching out. Stopped hoping. It was easier to build walls than to keep watching doors slam shut.

You pulled out your textbook—Cognitive Psychology, the bane of your existence—and tried to focus on the chapter about memory consolidation. The words blurred together. Your thoughts kept snagging on Jiheon's laugh, the way it had bounced off the cafeteria walls like light off water.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

The sun had begun its descent by the time you packed up your things, painting the library windows in shades of orange and pink. You took the stairs instead of the elevator—habit, muscle memory—and emerged into the evening air with the relief of a diver breaking the surface.

The campus was quiet this time of day. Most students had already retreated to their dorms or apartments, leaving the pathways empty and the buildings dark. Your own apartment was a twenty-minute walk away, a cramped studio that ate up most of your part-time salary but at least gave you a door you could lock.

You'd made it halfway across the quad when you heard the voices.

They came from the narrow alley between the science building and the old gymnasium—a shortcut you never took because the lighting was terrible and the echo made everything sound sinister. You stopped walking. Something in the tone made your skin crawl.

"—told you not to call me again."

Female. Familiar. Your stomach lurched.

"Sohyun, come on. Don't be like that."

Male. Deep. The kind of voice that rumbled in your chest even from a distance.

"I'm serious, Sungbin. We're done. Stop showing up here."

Sungbin. The name triggered something in your memory—a rumor you'd overheard months ago. Sohyun's ex-boyfriend. The one who'd been suspended after a fight. The one people whispered about in tones usually reserved for ghost stories.

"I said don't be like that." His voice had shifted. Harder now. The pleasant veneer cracking at the edges. "After everything I did for you? You're just gonna walk away?"

"I'm not walking away. I'm telling you to leave me alone."

You should have kept walking. This wasn't your business. Sohyun wasn't your friend. She'd made your life miserable for two years, and whatever trouble she'd gotten herself into with this guy was her problem, not yours.

You took a step toward the path home.

Then you heard the slap.

It wasn't loud—just a sharp crack of skin against skin, followed by Sohyun's startled cry. Your feet stopped moving. Your heart, which had been beating a steady rhythm of self-preservation, stuttered.

"What the fuck, Sungbin—"

"Shut up." His voice had gone cold. Deadly. "You don't get to talk to me like that. You don't get to walk away."

Another sound—a thud, like a body hitting the wall. Sohyun's voice again, higher this time, tinged with something you'd never heard from her before.

Fear.

"Please. You're hurting me—"

"Good. Maybe it'll help you remember who you belong to."

You were moving before you'd made the conscious decision to do so. Your legs carried you into the alley, into the darkness, toward a situation that every rational part of your brain was screaming at you to avoid.

They were maybe twenty feet from the alley entrance. Sohyun was pressed against the brick wall, Sungbin's forearm across her throat, his other hand fisted in her hair. She was struggling, but it was a weak, desperate thing—the struggle of someone who knew she was outmatched.

"Hey."

Your voice came out steadier than you felt. Sungbin's head snapped toward you, and you got your first clear look at his face. Handsome in a brutal way. Jaw like a concrete block. Eyes that held all the warmth of a frozen lake.

"Who the fuck are you?"

"Let her go."

Sohyun's eyes found yours. Wide. Disbelieving. Her lip was split, a thin line of blood trailing down her chin. The sight of it did something strange to your chest—something that felt like anger but burned hotter.

"This doesn't concern you," Sungbin said, his arm still pressed against Sohyun's throat. "Walk away. Pretend you didn't see anything."

"Can't do that."

"Can't do that," he mocked, pitching his voice higher. "Brave guy, huh? You think this is a movie? You think the hero gets the girl?" He released Sohyun's hair and turned to face you fully. He was bigger than you'd realized. Taller. Broader. The kind of physique that came from hours in a gym and maybe a little chemical assistance. "Last chance. Walk away."

Your body was screaming at you to listen to him. Every instinct you'd honed over years of avoiding conflict was telling you to turn around, to pretend you hadn't seen anything, to go home and forget this ever happened.

But Sohyun was crying. Park Sohyun, who'd made your life hell with a smile on her face, was crying against a brick wall, and you couldn't make yourself move.

"No."

Sungbin's expression shifted. The cold anger gave way to something almost amused—the look of a cat who'd just spotted a particularly stupid mouse.

"Your funeral."

He moved faster than you expected. The first punch caught you in the stomach before you'd even registered his approach, driving the air from your lungs in a explosive rush. You doubled over, gasping, and his knee came up to meet your face.

Pain. Bright and spectacular. The taste of copper flooded your mouth as your lip split against your teeth. You staggered backward, arms raised in a pathetic attempt at defense, but Sungbin was already swinging again—a right hook that connected with your temple and sent fireworks exploding across your vision.

"Stop!" Sohyun's voice, distant and distorted. "Sungbin, stop! You're going to kill him!"

"Good."

His fist slammed into your ribs. Something cracked—you felt it more than heard it, a sickening give beneath the skin that sent lightning bolts of agony through your entire torso. You crumpled. Your knees hit the concrete. Your palms scraped against gravel.

"Not so brave now, are you?" His voice came from above you, muffled by the ringing in your ears. "Not so fucking brave."

His foot connected with your side. Then again. Then again. Each impact sent fresh waves of pain cascading through your body, blurring the world into a smear of darkness and streetlight and blood.

Blood. There was a lot of it. It was pooling beneath your face, warm and sticky, filling your mouth with salt and iron. You tried to push yourself up, but your arms wouldn't cooperate. Your body had stopped listening to your brain.

"Sungbin, please!" Sohyun was screaming now. "Please, I'll do whatever you want, just stop!"

The beating paused. Through the haze of pain, you saw Sungbin turn toward her, chest heaving, knuckles wet with your blood.

"Whatever I want?"

"Yes. Yes. Just let him go."

A long pause. Then: "Fine."

The pressure of his presence retreated. Footsteps echoed on concrete, fading toward the other end of the alley. Sohyun's voice, smaller now: "Sungbin? Where are you… Sungbin!"

And then silence. Just the sound of your own ragged breathing and the distant hum of the city beyond campus.

You lay there for what felt like hours. The concrete was cold against your cheek. Your blood had begun to dry, tacky and stiff, pulling at your skin every time you tried to move.

Hands touched your shoulder. Gentle. Trembling.

"Oh god. Oh god oh god oh god."

Sohyun. She'd rolled you onto your back, and her face swam into view above you. Pale, terrified, tears cutting tracks through the dust on her cheeks.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't—I never thought he'd—" She choked on the words. "I called an ambulance. They're coming. Just stay awake, okay? Please stay awake."

You tried to respond, but your mouth wasn't working right. Something gurgled in your throat—blood, probably—and Sohyun's face crumpled.

"Why?" she whispered. "Why did you do that? I've been so horrible to you. I've made your life miserable. Why would you—" She pressed her hand against your chest, as if she could hold your life inside your body through sheer force of will. "You're so stupid. You're the stupidest person I've ever met."

The sirens were approaching. Distant, but getting closer.

Sohyun stayed there, kneeling in your blood, her hand pressed over your heart like a promise you didn't understand.

The hospital kept you for three days.

Two cracked ribs. A concussion. Seventeen stitches in your lip and eyebrow. Bruises that bloomed across your torso in shades of purple and black and sickly yellow-green. The doctor said you were lucky—no internal bleeding, no permanent damage, just a body that would ache for weeks and scars that would linger for years.

You didn't feel lucky.

The police came on the second day. You gave them a statement, sticking to the facts: you'd seen a woman being assaulted, you'd intervened, the man had attacked you. Yes, you could identify him. Yes, you'd be willing to testify. No, you didn't know why Sungbin had been there.

They found him two days later, trying to cross the border into Canada. The arrest made the local news—a small segment between the weather and the sports scores. You watched it from your hospital bed, the television's glow painting your bandaged face in shades of blue.

Sohyun didn't visit. You weren't surprised. Why would she? You'd been a tool, a convenient distraction that had given her time to escape. Now that the danger was past, you'd return to your designated role: the invisible loser, the easy target, the boy who sat in the corner and waited for the world to stop hurting him.

You were discharged on a Thursday morning. The campus had continued without you, students walking the same paths, attending the same classes, living the same lives. The world hadn't paused for your moment of heroism. It never did.

Your first day back to class was a study in pain management.

Every step sent a dull throb through your ribs. The stitches in your lip pulled every time you spoke—not that you had much to say. You'd considered skipping entirely, but there was an exam coming up, and you'd already missed a week of lectures. Being a hero didn't pay the bills or pass your classes.

The lecture hall was half-empty when you arrived. You chose a seat near the back, as far from the professor's line of sight as possible, and spent the first ten minutes trying to find a position that didn't make your ribs scream.

You'd just managed something approaching comfort when a shadow fell across your desk.

"Hey."

The voice made your heart lurch. You looked up.

Lee Jiheon stood beside your desk, holding her textbook against her chest like a shield. Her dark eyes were fixed on your face—on the stitches, the bruises, the roadmap of purple and yellow that traced the path of Sungbin's fists. She looked… worried. Genuinely worried.

"Hi," you managed.

"That looks painful." She winced. "I mean—obviously it looks painful. You look like you got hit by a truck. Not that you look bad! Just—hurt. You look hurt. Which makes sense. Because you got hurt." She closed her eyes, exhaled. "I'm going to stop talking now."

Despite everything—the pain, the exhaustion, the lingering taste of copper in your mouth—you felt the corner of your lip twitch upward. It pulled at your stitches. You didn't care.

"It's okay," you said. "I know what you meant."

Jiheon opened her eyes. A flush had crept up her neck, painting her cheeks pink. "Can I sit here? My usual seat's taken, and I—" She gestured vaguely at the empty chair beside you. "Is this okay?"

Was this okay. Lee Jiheon was asking if she could sit next to you. The girl you'd been silently pining over for more than a year was standing at your desk, her books clutched to her chest, asking for permission to exist in your proximity.

"Yeah," you said, and your voice came out embarrassingly hoarse. "Yeah, of course."

Her smile was like sunrise. Slow. Warm. Spreading across her face until it reached her eyes and made them crinkle at the corners.

"Thanks." She slid into the seat beside you, close enough that you could smell her shampoo—something light and citrusy. "So, um. I heard what happened. With Sohyun and her ex. Everyone's talking about it."

Your stomach tightened. "Great."

"No, I mean—" She bit her lip. "You did something really brave. Like, incredibly brave. Most people would've just walked away. But you didn't." Her voice dropped, softer now. "Why?"

There it was. The question Sohyun had asked in the alley, her voice breaking over the words. Why did you do that? You still didn't have a good answer.

"I don't know," you admitted. "I just… couldn't not do it. You know?"

Jiheon's expression shifted—something flickering in her eyes that you couldn't quite read. "That's amazing," she said quietly. "Not that you got hurt—that's terrible—but that you just… acted. Without thinking about yourself. That's not something most people can do."

The professor arrived before you could respond, launching into a lecture about social psychology that you barely heard. Your attention kept drifting to the girl beside you—the way she chewed on her pen cap when she was thinking, the way she tucked her hair behind her ear, the way she occasionally glanced at you from the corner of her eye as if making sure you were still there.

After class, she lingered. So did you.

"You're coming back tomorrow, right?" she asked, shouldering her bag. "To class, I mean."

"Probably. Unless my ribs stage a mutiny."

"That's a terrible joke." But she was smiling again. "I'll save you a seat. If you want."

Your heart did something complicated in your chest—a stutter-step that had nothing to do with cracked ribs and everything to do with the way her eyes caught the fluorescent light. "Okay."

"Okay." She held your gaze for a moment longer than necessary. "See you tomorrow, then."

You watched her walk away, her ponytail swinging with each step, and allowed yourself—for the first time in years—to feel something that wasn't resignation.

Hope.

Sohyun was waiting for you outside your apartment.

You spotted her from the end of the hallway, a dark figure slumped against your door like she'd been there for hours. She looked different from the last time you'd seen her. Smaller, somehow. The sharp edges of her confidence had been sanded down into something raw and uncertain.

She looked up at the sound of your footsteps. Her eyes were red-rimmed. She'd been crying.

"Hey," she said. Her voice was hoarse. "Can we talk?"

You stopped a few feet away from her, keys dangling from your hand. Every instinct told you to turn around, to walk away, to protect the fragile bubble of hope that had been building in your chest since your conversation with Jiheon.

But you'd already proven that your instincts were garbage.

"About what?"

Sohyun laughed—a broken, humorless sound. "About everything. About how I've treated you for two years. About what you did." She gestured at your face, at the bruises that mapped the violence you'd absorbed on her behalf. "About this."

"It's fine."

"It's not fine." Her voice cracked. "Nothing about this is fine. I bullied you. I made your life hell. You had no reason to help me. None. And you still—" She pressed her palm against her mouth, muffling what sounded like a sob. "Why? Why did you do that? I don't understand."

You leaned against the wall, careful not to jostle your ribs. "Does it matter?"

"It matters to me." She dropped her hand. Her eyes were fierce despite the tears. "I need to know. Was it pity? Did you feel sorry for me? Because if you did—"

"It wasn't pity."

"Then what?"

You considered the question. Turned it over in your mind. The truth was complicated—a tangle of half-formed impulses and deeply buried principles that you'd never fully articulated. You didn't like Sohyun. You didn't even really forgive her. But when you'd seen her pressed against that wall, seen the fear in her eyes, seen Sungbin's arm across her throat… something had overridden every rational objection. A line you couldn't cross. A choice you couldn't unmake.

"Because it was wrong," you said finally. "What he was doing. It was wrong. And someone had to stop it."

"That's it?"

"That's it."

Sohyun stared at you for a long moment. Then she shook her head, a strange smile twisting her lips. "You're insane. You're genuinely insane. A girl who's done nothing but torture you for years, and you risk your life for her because it was wrong." She laughed again, but this time there was something heavier beneath it. "I don't deserve that. I don't deserve you."

"Probably not," you agreed. "But it's done now."

She flinched. You hadn't meant it as a weapon, but the words landed like one anyway.

"I'm trying to apologize," she said quietly. "I know it doesn't fix anything. I know words are cheap. But I wanted you to hear it, at least once. I'm sorry. For everything. For the texts and the insults and the way I made you feel small. You didn't deserve any of it."

The hallway felt very quiet. Somewhere in the distance, a door closed. A dog barked. The world continued its indifferent rotation.

"Okay," you said.

"Okay?"

"I heard you. I don't—" You hesitated. "I don't know what you want me to say. I don't forgive you. I don't think I'm capable of that right now. But I heard you."

Sohyun nodded slowly, as if this was the response she'd expected. "That's fair." She pushed herself off your door, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. "I should go. You probably want to rest."

She started down the hallway, her footsteps echoing on the linoleum. You watched her go, and something unfamiliar twisted in your chest—something that felt almost like guilt.

"Sohyun."

She stopped. Turned.

"You're alive," you said. "That's what matters. Whatever happened before… you're alive, and he's in jail. Try to focus on that."

Her expression did something complicated—gratitude and grief and something else you couldn't name. Then she nodded once, sharp and decisive, and disappeared around the corner.

You unlocked your door and stepped into your apartment. It was dark. Empty. The same cramped studio you'd been living in for two years. But tonight, it felt different. Less like a refuge and more like a place where things could begin.

The weeks that followed were strange.

Jiheon kept her promise. Every class, she saved you a seat. She'd text you reminders about assignments and ask how your ribs were healing. She'd bring you coffee—black, one sugar, because she'd apparently noticed your order at the campus café and filed it away for future reference. The attention was disorienting, like stepping into sunlight after years in the dark.

"Society has this weird thing," she said one afternoon, picking at her salad in the cafeteria. "We love the idea of heroism, but we're always surprised when it actually happens. Like we expect people to be selfish by default."

You'd actually joined her for lunch. Voluntarily. In public. Progress.

"Most people are selfish," you pointed out.

"True." She stabbed a cherry tomato. "But you're not. And I think that's interesting."

"Interesting?"

"Yeah." She looked at you across the table, her gaze steady and unflinching. "You sat in the corner for two years. Never talked to anyone. Never drew attention to yourself. And then one day, you just… stepped into a situation that could've killed you. For a girl who'd been cruel to you. That's not normal behavior. That's the kind of thing that makes a person curious."

Your heart was beating faster than it should have been. "Curious about what?"

"About you." She smiled, and it was softer than her usual smiles—less performative, more private. "About who you actually are, under all that silence."

You didn't know how to respond to that. So you didn't. You just sat there, your salad forgotten, and let the warmth of her attention wash over you like a tide.

Sohyun didn't approach you again. Not directly.

But you started noticing things.

Your locker, which you never locked because you had nothing worth stealing, was suddenly always secure when you returned to it. The dent you'd been meaning to fix for months was gone. Your textbooks, which you'd been leaving in the library to avoid carrying extra weight on your ribs, were always exactly where you'd left them—but slightly neater. More organized.

Little things. Invisible things. Things you wouldn't have noticed if you weren't the kind of person who'd spent years tracking the smallest details of his environment.

She was there, too. Always at the edges of your vision. Across the cafeteria. At the far end of the library. On the path between your apartment and campus, walking a little too slowly, a little too deliberately. She never spoke to you. Never approached. Just… watched.

It should have been unsettling. Maybe if you'd been paying closer attention, it would have been. But Jiheon's smile had a way of narrowing your focus, and everything outside her orbit felt distant. Insignificant.

You mentioned it to Jiheon once, casually, when you spotted Sohyun lingering near the gymnasium at an hour when no classes were scheduled.

"She's probably just feeling guilty," Jiheon said, linking her arm through yours in a gesture that made your brain short-circuit. "Wants to make sure you're okay."

"Maybe."

But there was something in the way Sohyun stood—rigid, focused, her eyes tracking your every movement—that made the explanation feel incomplete.

It happened on a Friday night.

You'd been walking Jiheon back to her dorm after a late study session. The campus was quiet, the pathways lit by the orange glow of streetlamps. Her hand had found yours somewhere between the library and the science building, and you'd been holding it for twenty minutes now, your palm sweaty and your heart performing acrobatics in your chest.

"I had a good time tonight," Jiheon said, her voice soft in the darkness.

"Me too."

She stopped walking. Turned to face you. The lamplight caught her features, painting her in shades of gold and shadow, and you thought—not for the first time—that she was the most beautiful thing you'd ever seen.

"I'm glad you're not invisible anymore," she said. "I'm glad I finally saw you."

Your throat tightened. "Jiheon—"

She kissed you.

It was gentle. Tentative. Barely more than a brush of lips against lips. But it sent electricity racing down your spine, and your free hand came up to cup her cheek, and she made a small sound against your mouth that you wanted to remember for the rest of your life.

When she pulled back, her eyes were bright with something that looked like joy.

"Tomorrow," she said. "Dinner?"

"Yeah." The word came out breathless. "Yeah. Dinner."

She smiled, squeezed your hand, and disappeared into her dorm. You stood there for a long moment, your lips tingling, your heart soaring, your ribs completely forgotten.

You didn't notice the shadow at the edge of the path. Didn't see the figure standing beneath the oak tree, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. Didn't hear the sharp, ragged breath she took as she watched you walk away.

Park Sohyun had been following you for hours. She'd watched you study. Watched you laugh—actually laugh—at something Jiheon said. Watched your hands touch. Watched you kiss.

And something inside her, something that had been quietly warping in the dark spaces of her guilt and her debt, finally snapped.

She doesn't deserve him, Sohyun thought, her nails biting into her palms. She doesn't know him. She doesn't know what he's been through. She doesn't know the scars she's touching.

The morning light cut through your cheap blinds like a knife, and your skull answered with a dull, resentful throb. Not a hangover—you hadn't been drinking—just the accumulated exhaustion of healing bones and a brain that refused to stop replaying the previous night. Jiheon's lips. The citrus scent of her shampoo. The way she'd said tomorrow like it was a promise she actually intended to keep.

Dinner. You had a dinner date. With Lee Jiheon.

The thought got you upright despite your ribs' protests. Your reflection in the bathroom mirror was still a disaster—the stitches in your eyebrow had dissolved, but the bruising had faded into a sickly yellow-green that made you look like you'd lost a fight with a banana. The split lip had healed to a thin pink line. You ran a hand through your hair, trying to tame it into something resembling intentional dishevelment rather than bed-head chaos.

She kissed you anyway, you reminded yourself. The bruises didn't scare her off.

Your phone buzzed on the nightstand. Jiheon's name on the screen sent a jolt through your chest that had nothing to do with your cracked ribs.

Jiheon: 7pm still good? There's this Italian place near Hongdae. Tiny. Quiet. You'll love it.

You: Perfect. Can't wait.

Jiheon: :) Wear something nice. But not too nice. I want to be the pretty one tonight.

You: Impossible. You're always the pretty one.

The typing indicator appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again. Then a single heart emoji—small and red and somehow more terrifying than any threat Sungbin had thrown at you.

You stared at that heart for longer than you'd care to admit. A year ago, you'd been invisible. A week ago, you'd been a target. Now Lee Jiheon was sending you hearts and kissing you under streetlamps, and you had absolutely no framework for processing any of it.

Your reflection caught your eye again. Still you. Still the same face, same body, same quiet existence. But something behind your eyes had shifted—a crack in the wall you'd spent years building. Light was getting through.

Or maybe that was just the sunshine.

The campus was quiet for a Saturday morning. You'd come to the library to kill time before the evening, too restless to stay in your apartment and too self-conscious to risk running into Jiheon before the date. You wanted to savor the anticipation. Wanted to hold onto the butterflies in your stomach like a secret only you knew.

The psychology section was empty, as usual. You settled into your corner, pulled out your notes, and tried to focus on the chapter about attachment theory. The irony wasn't lost on you—reading about how early relationships shaped adult connections while your own early relationships had taught you that connections were landmines waiting to explode.

A shadow fell across your textbook.

"Hey."

Your pen stopped mid-sentence. That voice. You'd spent two years learning to dread it, and now it made something complicated twist in your gut—not fear anymore, but something adjacent to it. Something that felt like a warning.

Sohyun stood at the end of the bookshelf aisle, her arms crossed over her chest. She'd dressed down today—jeans, a loose sweater, minimal makeup. The sharp edges of her usual presentation had been sanded away into something almost approachable. Almost.

"Sohyun." You kept your voice neutral. "What are you doing here?"

"I need your help." She uncrossed her arms, letting them hang at her sides. The posture was strange on her—less confrontational, more uncertain. "There's this project for our ethics class. Partner assignment. Professor paired us up."

You frowned. "I'm not in your ethics class."

"You dropped it last semester." She said it like it was obvious. Like she'd memorized your schedule. "But you took it the semester before, right? You still have the notes. The readings. I just—" She exhaled, a sharp puff of air that ruffled her bangs. "I'm struggling. This material doesn't make sense to me, and the project's due next week. I thought maybe you could walk me through it."

The request was so mundane, so perfectly reasonable, that it took you a moment to recognize the red flags waving at the edges of your perception. Sohyun asking for help. Sohyun admitting she was struggling. Sohyun dressed like she wasn't trying to intimidate anyone.

"I don't know," you said slowly. "I've got plans tonight."

Her expression didn't flicker. "It might take a while. Could finish late. Maybe even after dark." She tilted her head, the gesture almost curious. "What kind of plans?"

"Dinner. With Jiheon."

The silence that followed was absolute. Sohyun's face remained perfectly still—so still that it circled back around to unsettling, a photograph rather than a person. Her dark eyes, usually sharp with amusement or cruelty, had gone flat. Empty. Like someone had pulled a curtain across whatever lived behind them.

Then she laughed.

It wasn't her usual laugh—not the short, sharp bark she used when she'd landed an insult, not the cruel giggle that accompanied your humiliation. This was something else entirely. A low chuckle that started in her chest and built until her shoulders were shaking with it, until she had to press a hand against the bookshelf to steady herself.

"Wow," she said, wiping at her eyes. "Wow. That's—" Another laugh, breathless. "That's adorable. Really. You and Jiheon. Dinner."

Your jaw tightened. "Is something funny?"

"No." She straightened up, and the laughter died as quickly as it had come. Her smile remained, but it didn't reach her eyes. "No, it's great. It's really great. You deserve someone like her. Someone sweet. Someone who noticed you existed all of five minutes ago."

The barb landed exactly where she'd aimed it. You felt your shoulders tense, the old instinct to retreat kicking in before you could stop it. But something else rose alongside it—a new instinct, one that had been growing since the night you'd stepped into that alley. The instinct to stand your ground.

"She's been kind to me," you said evenly. "That's more than most people have done."

Sohyun's smile flickered. "I'm trying to make up for that."

"I know. And I told you—I heard your apology. We don't need to keep doing this."

"But I want to." She stepped closer, and the air between you shifted. "I owe you a debt. Let me repay it. Just this once. Help me with the project, and we'll call it even. You never have to talk to me again."

She was close enough now that you could smell her perfume—the same floral, expensive scent that had always seemed so incongruous with her cruelty. It filled your lungs and made your head swim slightly, and you found yourself thinking about the alley again. Her hand pressed against your chest. Her voice breaking as she called the ambulance. The weight of her palm over your heart like she could keep it beating through sheer will.

"Fine," you heard yourself say. "But not today. Tomorrow. Afternoon."

"Tomorrow." She nodded slowly, her eyes still fixed on yours. "Okay. Tomorrow."

She turned to leave, then paused at the end of the aisle. "Enjoy your dinner," she said, without looking back. "I hope it's everything you've been dreaming of."

The words should have sounded genuine. Instead, they landed like a threat you couldn't quite decipher.

The restaurant was tucked between a vintage bookstore and a noodle shop, its facade so unassuming that you almost walked past it twice. Inside, the lighting was low and warm, candles flickering on every table, the air thick with the scent of garlic and fresh bread and something floral that might have been roses.

Jiheon was already there when you arrived, seated at a corner table with a glass of red wine in front of her. She'd worn a cream-colored blouse that made her skin glow, her dark hair falling loose around her shoulders instead of its usual ponytail. When she spotted you, her face broke into that sunrise smile—the one that made your chest ache in ways your ribs couldn't explain.

"You came," she said, as if there'd been any doubt.

"Of course I came." You slid into the seat across from her, suddenly hyperaware of your own outfit—dark jeans, a button-down shirt you'd ironed twice, shoes you'd bought specifically for this occasion and already regretted. "You look beautiful."

The compliment slipped out before you could overthink it. Her cheeks flushed pink, and she ducked her head slightly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Thank you. You look—" She gestured vaguely at you. "Less like you got hit by a truck. That's progress."

"I'll take it."

A waiter appeared, poured you water, handed you a menu. The wine list was extensive, and you ordered the same thing Jiheon was drinking because you didn't know enough about wine to make your own decision. She seemed to find this endearing rather than pathetic, which was either a good sign or proof that her standards were concerningly low.

"How are your ribs?" she asked, after you'd placed your orders.

"Healing. Slowly." You touched your side reflexively. "Doctor says another few weeks and I'll be back to normal. Or as normal as I ever was."

"That's good." She swirled her wine, watching the liquid cling to the glass. "I was really worried about you. After it happened. Everyone was talking about it, and I just kept thinking—" She paused, her brow furrowing. "I don't know. It's stupid."

"What?"

"That I should have noticed you sooner." She looked up, her dark eyes meeting yours. "Two years. We've been in the same classes for two years, and I never saw you. Not really. You were just… background. And then suddenly you were this person who'd done something incredible, and I realized I'd been walking past you every day without ever wondering who you were."

The candlelight danced across her features, painting shadows that shifted with every flicker. Your heart was beating too fast, your palms slightly damp against the tablecloth.

"Most people didn't notice me," you said. "I was kind of counting on it."

"Why?"

The question was simple, but it hit you like a punch to the chest. Why. Why had you made yourself invisible. Why had you built walls so high that even kindness couldn't scale them. Why had you decided, somewhere along the way, that safety was worth more than connection.

"I don't know," you admitted. "I guess I got tired of being disappointed. It was easier to stop expecting anything."

Jiheon reached across the table and laid her hand over yours. Her fingers were warm, her touch gentle, and your breath caught somewhere in your throat.

"Well," she said softly, "I'm sorry it took me so long to see you. But I see you now."

You didn't know how to respond to that. So you turned your hand over and laced your fingers through hers, and something in your chest cracked open just a little wider.

The food arrived—pasta for her, risotto for you—and the conversation drifted to safer shores. Classes and professors and the terrible coffee at the campus café. She told you about her psychology thesis, about her plans to become a therapist, about the summer she'd spent volunteering at a crisis hotline and the things she'd learned about human resilience. You told her about your own studies, your quiet ambitions, the part-time job at the library that paid almost nothing but gave you access to unlimited books.

It was easy. Effortless. Like a conversation you'd been rehearsing for years without realizing it.

Midway through the meal, her expression shifted. Something clouded her eyes—uncertainty, or maybe concern.

"Can I tell you something weird?" she asked, pushing a piece of pasta around her plate.

"Always."

"It's about Sohyun."

Your fork paused halfway to your mouth. "What about her?"

"I think something's wrong with her." Jiheon's voice dropped, as if she was worried about being overheard. "Like, more than usual. She's been acting strange ever since you got back from the hospital. Following you around. Staring at you. I caught her outside the library yesterday, just standing there, watching the entrance. When I asked her what she was doing, she said she was waiting for someone. But she was still there three hours later when I left."

The risotto had gone cold in your mouth. "She's probably just feeling guilty. She thinks she owes me something."

"Maybe." Jiheon didn't sound convinced. "But I've known Sohyun for years. We were in the same orientation group. She doesn't do guilt. She doesn't do apologies. The Sohyun I know would have pretended you didn't exist after you helped her, because acknowledging you would mean acknowledging that she needed help in the first place." She leaned forward, her voice dropping lower. "This new thing—following you, fixing your stuff, showing up everywhere you are—it's not guilt. It's something else. Something that makes me nervous."

The candle flickered. A chill traced its way down your spine, and you couldn't quite explain why.

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying maybe you should stay away from her." Jiheon's grip on your hand tightened. "I know you're trying to be kind. That's who you are. But Sohyun doesn't operate like normal people. She gets fixated on things. On people. And when she fixates—" She shook her head. "It never ends well."

You opened your mouth to respond, to tell her she was being paranoid, to dismiss her concerns the way you'd been dismissing your own instincts for weeks—

Movement at the restaurant entrance caught your eye.

The door swung open, letting in a gust of evening air and a figure that made your stomach drop. She paused in the doorway, scanning the room like a predator surveying its territory, and when her gaze landed on your table, her lips curved into a smile that was all teeth.

Park Sohyun.

But not the Sohyun you knew.

She'd traded her usual casual attire for a dress—dark blue, form-fitting, the kind of dress that demanded attention and punished anyone who tried to look away. Her hair was styled in loose waves that framed her angular jaw. Her makeup was subtle but deliberate, accentuating the sharpness of her features, the darkness of her eyes. The floral perfume reached you from across the room, stronger now, almost overwhelming.

She looked like she'd stepped out of a magazine. She looked like a weapon.

"Holy shit," Jiheon breathed. "Is that—"

"Sohyun." The name tasted like ash in your mouth.

Sohyun spotted you almost immediately—of course she did, she'd probably known exactly where you were before she walked in—and began making her way toward your table. Her heels clicked against the hardwood floor, each step precise and deliberate. Other diners turned to watch her pass. She didn't seem to notice them.

"Hey!" Her voice was bright, cheerful, completely at odds with the predatory gleam in her eyes. "What a coincidence! I was just in the neighborhood and thought I'd grab dinner." She stopped beside your table, her gaze sliding from your face to Jiheon's with something that might have been amusement. "Mind if I join you?"

Jiheon's expression had frozen into something polite and brittle. "Actually, we're kind of in the middle of—"

"Great, thanks." Sohyun pulled out a chair and sat down before either of you could object. She flagged down a waiter, ordered a glass of the most expensive wine on the menu, and turned her attention back to you with the intensity of a spotlight. "You look nice tonight. Is that a new shirt?"

"Ironed it twice," you heard yourself say, because apparently your brain had decided honesty was the best defense mechanism.

Sohyun laughed—that strange, breathless laugh from the library. "Adorable. Really. Isn't he adorable, Jiheon?"

Jiheon's smile had become a rictus. "He's something."

The waiter brought Sohyun's wine. She took a long sip, her eyes never leaving your face, and you watched her throat move as she swallowed. Something about the gesture felt obscene. Deliberate.

"So what are we talking about?" Sohyun set her glass down with a soft clink. "School? Relationships? The violent ex-boyfriend who's currently rotting in jail?" She said it lightly, like she was discussing the weather. "Mine, by the way. Not yours. Though I guess he's yours too now, isn't he? In a way. You're the one who put him there."

The table went silent. Jiheon's hand had gone rigid beneath yours.

"Sohyun," you said carefully, "maybe this isn't the best—"

"No, you're right." She waved a dismissive hand. "We shouldn't talk about unpleasant things. This is a happy occasion. A date." She emphasized the word like it was a joke only she understood. "How's the food? Good? This place has excellent reviews. I've been wanting to try it for ages."

"It's fine," Jiheon said flatly. "We were actually about to leave."

"No, you weren't." Sohyun's smile didn't waver. "You've barely touched your pasta. And his risotto's still half-full." She turned to you, her expression softening into something that might have passed for genuine concern if you didn't know her better. "You should eat more. You're still healing. Your body needs the calories."

The dissonance was dizzying. The Sohyun sitting across from you was thoughtful, attentive, dressed like she cared about being seen. But beneath the surface, something else was moving—something cold and calculated that made the candlelight shimmer strangely in her eyes.

This wasn't guilt. Jiheon was right.

This was something else entirely.

The dinner dragged on for another hour. Sohyun dominated the conversation, steering it away from anything personal, away from anything that might connect you and Jiheon. She talked about classes and professors and campus gossip. She laughed at her own jokes. She ordered another glass of wine and then another, and somehow managed to refill your glass whenever it got low.

You didn't drink often. Couldn't, really—alcohol hit you fast and hard, blurring the edges of your perception, loosening the careful control you maintained over your thoughts. By the time dessert arrived, the world had gone soft at the corners. Jiheon's voice sounded distant. The candlelight had turned into a halo. Sohyun's smile had become impossible to read.

"I think we should go," Jiheon said, her tone clipped. She'd barely touched her second glass. Her eyes kept darting between you and Sohyun, worry etching lines around her mouth. "He's not feeling well."

"I'm fine," you mumbled, though you weren't. The room was tilting slightly to the left.

"He's fine," Sohyun agreed. "He's just relaxed. When's the last time you relaxed?" She directed this at you, leaning forward with her elbows on the table, her chin resting on her folded hands. "You're always so tense. So careful. It must be exhausting."

"Exhausting," you echoed, because the word felt right.

"See?" Sohyun turned to Jiheon, her smile widening. "He's fine. You should stop worrying so much."

Jiheon stood up abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor. "We're leaving. Come on." She reached for your arm, her grip firm and urgent. "I'll walk you home."

"No need." Sohyun rose too, smoother and more graceful, her dress catching the candlelight as she moved. "I live closer to him. I'll make sure he gets back safely."

"That's not—"

"Jiheon." Sohyun's voice had changed. The warmth drained out of it, replaced by something flat and cold that made the hair on the back of your neck stand up. "Back off."

The two women faced each other across the table, and the restaurant seemed to hold its breath. Other diners had noticed the tension; you could see them pretending not to watch, their conversations faltering, their eyes sliding sideways.

"He's not your responsibility," Jiheon said, her voice steady despite the tremor in her hands. "He's not your anything. You bullied him for two years. You don't get to play protector now."

"He saved my life." Sohyun's smile had become something terrible. "That makes him mine. Whether he wants to be or not."

"Yours? He's not a—"

"I know what you're doing, by the way." Sohyun stepped closer, her heels clicking against the floor with the finality of a judge's gavel. "The concerned girlfriend act. The gentle touches. The way you look at him like he's some wounded puppy you want to nurse back to health." Her voice dropped, intimate and cruel. "It's not real. None of it's real. You're riding the wave of his fifteen minutes of fame, and when the news cycle moves on, when people stop talking about the dramatic rescue and the violent ex-boyfriend, you'll get bored. You'll find something new to entertain you. Someone new to fix."

Jiheon's face went pale. "That's not—"

"Isn't it?" Sohyun tilted her head, studying her like a specimen under a microscope. "I've seen you, Jiheon. You collect broken things. You patch them up, feel good about yourself for a while, and then you move on. It's your pattern. Your thing. But he's not a thing. He's not some project for you to complete and then discard when you get tired of him."

"You don't know anything about me."

"I know you've never once looked at him before last week. I know you sat three rows behind him for two years and never learned his name. I know you only noticed him when other people started paying attention." Sohyun's voice had become almost gentle, which made it worse. "That's not love. That's convenience. And he deserves better than convenience."

The words hung in the air like smoke. Jiheon's lips parted, but no sound came out. Something in her expression crumbled—not agreement, exactly, but uncertainty. Doubt. The terrible possibility that Sohyun might be right.

"Jiheon." You tried to stand, but the room tilted dangerously. "She's just trying to get in your head. Don't listen to her."

But Jiheon was already reaching for her bag, her movements jerky and mechanical. "I should go." Her voice had gone hollow. "You're drunk. You don't need this. I'll—" She swallowed hard. "I'll call you tomorrow. When you're feeling better."

"Jiheon, wait—"

She didn't wait. She walked past Sohyun without looking at her, her steps quick and uneven, and pushed through the restaurant door into the darkening street. The bell above the door chimed once and then went silent.

You were alone with Sohyun.

"You didn't have to do that," you said, and your voice came out slurred and useless.

Sohyun turned to face you, and her expression was nothing you recognized. The cold cruelty was gone. The predatory gleam had softened into something almost tender, almost loving, and that was somehow more terrifying.

"Yes, I did," she said quietly. "She was going to hurt you. They always do. But I won't." She reached out and touched your cheek, her fingers cool against your flushed skin. "I'll never hurt you again. I promise."

The room spun. The candles blurred into streaks of light. Her perfume filled your lungs until you couldn't breathe anything else.

"Let's get you home," she murmured, slipping her arm through yours. "You've had a long night."

Sohyun's apartment was nothing like you'd imagined.

Not that you'd spent much time imagining it. But if you had, you would have pictured something sharp and modern—white walls, chrome fixtures, the kind of cold elegance that matched her public persona. Instead, her space was warm. Cozy. Books stacked on every available surface, a worn velvet couch draped in blankets, fairy lights strung across the ceiling. It looked like someone lived here. Someone who liked soft things.

She guided you to the couch and disappeared into the kitchen, returning with a glass of water and two painkillers. You took them without protest, your head still swimming, your thoughts still tangled in the wreckage of the dinner.

"You should drink more water," she said, settling onto the couch beside you. "Alcohol dehydrates you."

"What are you doing?" The question came out rough. "Why are you acting like this?"

"Like what?"

"Like you care."

She was quiet for a moment. The fairy lights cast shifting shadows across her face, making her expression impossible to read.

"I do care," she said finally. "I know you don't believe me. I know I've given you every reason not to. But watching you almost die—watching someone almost kill you because of me—" Her voice caught. "It changed things. It changed me. I can't go back to who I was before. I don't want to."

"Sohyun—"

"You don't have to forgive me." She turned to face you, and her eyes were wet. Shimmering. "You don't have to like me. You don't have to do anything. But you saved my life, and that means my life belongs to you now. Whether you want it or not."

"That's not how it works."

"That's exactly how it works." She shifted closer, her dress rustling against the couch cushions. "I've been watching you. I know you think I'm creepy, I know Jiheon told you to stay away from me, and she's probably right. But I can't stop. I've tried. Every time I tell myself I'm going to leave you alone, I end up following you anyway. Learning your schedule. Your routes. The way you flinch when your ribs hurt but pretend you're fine."

Her hand came up to rest on your chest, over your heart, just like she'd done in the alley. The pressure was gentle but insistent.

"I made those scars," she whispered. "Not directly. But I put you in that situation. My choices. My ex-boyfriend. My mess. And you walked into it because you're the kind of person who can't let someone get hurt, even someone who made your life miserable." Her fingers curled into your shirt. "That's who you are. That's what I couldn't see before. I was so busy trying to tear you down that I didn't realize you were the strongest person I'd ever met."

The alcohol was still swirling through your system, making everything feel distant and dreamlike. Her face was very close now. Her perfume was everywhere.

"You're drunk," you managed. "We're both drunk."

"I'm not drunk." Her smile was sad and strange and knowing. "I stopped drinking after the first glass. You didn't notice. You were too busy looking at Jiheon."

Your head was spinning. Your ribs ached. Her hand was still on your chest, and you could feel your heartbeat pressing against her palm.

"What do you want from me?"

She didn't answer with words. Instead, she leaned forward and kissed you.

It wasn't gentle. It wasn't tentative. It was hungry and desperate and tasted like wine and tears, and your body responded before your brain could catch up—your hands coming up to grip her shoulders, your mouth opening under hers, a sound escaping your throat that you didn't recognize.

She pulled back just far enough to look at you, her eyes dark and glittering in the fairy light. Her lips were slightly swollen. Her breathing had gone ragged.

"You," she breathed. "I want you. All of you. Every broken piece. Every scar. Every quiet thought you've never said out loud." She kissed the corner of your mouth. Your jaw. The hollow of your throat. "I want to know what it feels like to be the thing you protect. I want to earn it. I want to be worthy of it."

"This is crazy," you said, but your hands weren't pushing her away. "You're not thinking clearly."

"I've never thought more clearly in my life." Her fingers found the buttons of your shirt. "You belong to me now. You just don't know it yet."

"You said your life belonged to me."

"It does." The first button came undone. Then the second. "That's the beautiful part. We belong to each other." Her mouth traced the line of your collarbone. "Mine. Yours. It doesn't matter which. The point is—" The third button. The fourth. "—you're not alone anymore. You'll never be alone again."

Your shirt fell open, exposing the fading bruises on your ribs—yellow and green and still tender to the touch. Sohyun made a sound when she saw them, something between a gasp and a moan, and her fingers ghosted over the discolored skin with the reverence of a pilgrim touching a shrine.

"I did this," she murmured. "These are mine. Every one of them. And I'm going to spend the rest of my life making them better."

"Sohyun—"

"Shh." She pressed a finger to your lips. "Don't think. Don't worry. Don't do anything. Just let me take care of you."

She stood up, and the fairy lights caught the fabric of her dress, making it shimmer like water. Her hands found the zipper at her back, and she pulled it down with a sound like a whisper.

The dress pooled at her feet.

Underneath, she was wearing black lace that left very little to the imagination. Her body was lean and sharp and beautiful—all the edges that her personality suggested, translated into physical form. Her dark hair fell around her shoulders. Her eyes never left your face.

"You're staring," she said, but she didn't sound displeased.

"You're—" The words stuck in your throat. "You're not what I expected."

"No one ever expects me." She stepped out of the dress and moved toward you, her bare feet silent on the hardwood floor. "That's the point."

She straddled your lap, and the warmth of her body seeped through your remaining clothes. Her arms looped around your neck. Her lips found your ear.

"I'm going to mark you," she breathed. "Right here." Her mouth pressed against the side of your neck, just below the jaw. "Where everyone can see. So Jiheon knows. So everyone knows. You're not invisible anymore. You're mine."

Her teeth grazed your skin, and then she bit down—not hard enough to break the skin, but hard enough to leave a mark. A bruise. A claim. The sensation shot through your body like electricity, and your hands found her hips without your permission, gripping hard enough to leave marks of your own.

Sohyun moaned against your neck. The sound was low and throaty and utterly unselfconscious, vibrating through your skin and into your bones.

"That's it," she whispered. "Hold onto me. Don't let go."

And then her mouth was on yours again, and her fingers were working at the button of your jeans, and the fairy lights blurred into a constellation of distant stars.

"I'm yours," she kept saying, the words falling from her lips like a prayer. "I'm yours, I'm yours, I'm yours."

Whether she was trying to convince you or herself, you couldn't tell.

Maybe it didn't matter anymore.

Her hips rocked against yours, a slow rhythm that made coherence impossible. Her nails traced patterns on your chest—over the bruises, over the stitches, over every mark that Sungbin had left and she had claimed. The fairy lights flickered. The room grew warmer. The world outside the windows ceased to exist.

"Say it," she breathed against your mouth. "Say you're mine."

Your head was full of wine and perfume and the impossible weight of her body on yours. Your thoughts had scattered like startled birds.

"I'm yours," you heard yourself say, and the words felt like a door closing. A lock clicking shut. A path chosen that could never be unchosen.

Sohyun laughed—that same breathless, broken laugh from the library—and kissed you so hard you forgot your own name.

The couch cushions shifted beneath you. Her weight pressed you deeper into the velvet. Her mouth mapped your skin like she was memorizing territory she intended to occupy permanently.

And somewhere in the distant, sober corner of your mind, a voice was screaming that this was wrong, that this was dangerous, that you'd traded one monster for another and this one knew exactly how to make you want to be devoured.

But you couldn't hear it anymore.

All you could hear was Sohyun's voice, repeating those three words like an incantation, like a curse, like the only truth that mattered in a world that had finally stopped pretending you didn't exist.

I'm yours.

I'm yours.

I'm yours.

Your eyes cracked open to the sensation of wet heat tracing a slow, deliberate path down your stomach. The fairy lights still twinkled overhead, their soft glow barely cutting through the gray pre-dawn light seeping through the curtains. Your head throbbed—not the sharp spike of last night's wine, but the hollow throb of exhaustion and dehydration and something else. Something deeper. Your shirt was gone. Your jeans were gone. The velvet couch had become your entire world, a tangled blanket around one ankle, and Sohyun—

Sohyun was kissing her way down your body like she was mapping territory she intended to occupy permanently.

Her lips pressed against the hollow of your hip. Her tongue traced the line of muscle that tensed involuntarily under her attention. Her dark hair spilled across your thighs like ink, and every place she touched felt branded. Claimed. Hot enough to leave marks.

"Mmm." The sound vibrated against your skin. "Finally awake."

You tried to push yourself up on your elbows, but the room tilted. "What time is it?"

"Early." She nipped at the sensitive skin just above your hip bone, and your breath snagged. "Sun's not up yet."

Her mouth slid lower. Your cock, already half-hard from the attention, twitched against her cheek. She turned her head, nuzzling the shaft like it was something precious. Something that belonged to her.

"Sohyun—"

"Shh." A puff of warm air against the base. "Don't talk. Just feel."

Her tongue darted out and licked a slow stripe from root to tip. The sensation was electric—sharp and wet and utterly focused. Your hips jerked. Your fists clenched in the velvet cushions.

She laughed, low and throaty. "Sensitive. Good."

Your mind was still swimming, still trying to piece together the fragments of last night. The dinner. Jiheon leaving. Sohyun's apartment. The dress, the lingerie, the biting, the relentless, possessive kisses. And then… nothing. A black gap where memories should have been. But your body felt strange—heavy, used, a deep ache in your groin that suggested you'd done more than sleep.

"How long have you been awake?" The question came out rougher than you intended.

Sohyun lifted her head, and your cock rested against the curve of her cheek, smearing a glistening trail across her skin. She looked up at you through her lashes, and the expression on her face made your stomach drop. It was hunger. Pure, undiluted hunger, the kind that had nothing to do with food and everything to do with possession.

"I haven't slept at all." She turned her head and pressed a kiss directly to the slick head, her lips parting just enough to taste. "I've been enjoying this fucking cock of yours."

Heat flooded your face. You could feel it spreading down your neck, across your chest, painting you in shades of embarrassment and something darker. Something that throbbed in sync with your pulse.

"Nine times," she murmured, her lips still brushing against your skin. "You've come nine times tonight. Did you know that?"

Your brain stuttered. "What?"

"Nine." She took you in her hand—her fingers wrapping around your shaft with the casual ownership of someone handling their favorite toy. "Once in me. Here." She tapped your lower stomach with her free hand, right over where her womb would be. "Then again about an hour later. Then again…" That breathless laugh, terrifyingly familiar. "Well. You get the idea."

The words weren't registering. They couldn't be real. "That's not—" You struggled to sit up, but her other hand pressed flat against your chest, pinning you to the couch with surprising strength. "That's not possible."

"Turns out you've got stamina when you're unconscious. Who knew?" Her thumb traced lazy circles around the head of your cock, smearing the bead of moisture that had gathered there. "The human body is amazing. The mind checks out, but the flesh keeps going. Keeps responding. Keeps filling me up with all this…" She squeezed gently, and your hips bucked. "Warm, thick cum."

"Inside you?" The question came out strangled. "You said—in you. In your—"

"My pussy. My cunt. My womb." She said it plainly, without embarrassment, without shame, her thumb still working that maddening rhythm. "Yes. Inside me. Nine separate loads. All that seed, just pooling in there, and you know what?" She released your cock and crawled up your body, her naked form sliding against yours until her face hovered inches above your own, her nipples brushing your chest. "I think my womb needs one more. Just one. To make sure it really works."

The word hit like a physical blow.

Works.

"Don't tell me." Your voice was barely a whisper. "You're trying to—"

"Get pregnant?" Sohyun's smile was beatific. Serene. Completely unhinged. "Obviously."

You shoved at her shoulders. "Sohyun, that's insane. That's—you can't just—"

She grabbed your wrists and slammed them back against the armrest above your head. The movement was startlingly violent—all the strength of someone who'd learned to fight back, to survive, channeled into keeping you exactly where she wanted you. Her thighs clamped around your hips, and you felt the wet heat of her cunt press against your straining cock.

"I can," she said, her voice dropping to something low and dangerous. "I am. Nine times, I told you. What's one more? What's the difference between nine and ten? At this point, it's probably already done. Probably already a tiny little heartbeat inside me right now."

Your chest heaved. "This is crazy."

"Crazy." She tested the word like she was tasting it. "Maybe. But I've been called worse. By you, actually. Remember?" She leaned down and pressed her lips to the bruise on your neck—the one she'd left last night, the one that marked you as hers. "I told you I'm going to spend the rest of my life making it up to you. This is how I start."

"By forcing me to get you pregnant?"

"By giving you something no one else can." Her hips rolled against yours, and the slick head of your cock nudged against her entrance. "A family. A future. Someone who needs you. Someone who can't leave you." She kissed your jaw. Your cheek. The corner of your mouth. "I'll never leave you. Our baby will never leave you. You'll never be alone again, staring at some girl who doesn't know you exist. I know you. Every scar. Every bruise. I put some of them there, and I'm going to spend forever kissing them better."

Your mind screamed NO, but your cock throbbed at her words, betraying you as it had all night.

"Please," you tried, one last desperate plea. "Sohyun, stop. This isn't—"

"Your cock says otherwise." She reached between your bodies, positioned you at her entrance, and sank down in one slow, wet slide.

The sensation was overwhelming. She was tight—impossibly tight after all she claimed you'd done—and so wet that your cock slid in to the hilt without resistance. The evidence of your previous climaxes made the glide obscenely easy, and the sound it made—that slick, liquid squelch—filled the room like a confession.

"There." She braced her hands on your chest, her nails pressing into the fading bruises over your cracked ribs. "Now be quiet and let me finish."

She began to ride you. Slow at first, a rolling grind that seemed designed to press the head of your cock against her deepest parts. Then faster, her hips slapping against yours with a wet, rhythmic plap plap plap. Her tits bounced with each thrust. Her hair clung to her sweat-damp shoulders. Her eyes—those dark, glittering eyes—never left your face.

"That's it," she breathed. "Fill me up. Make it ten. Make it a baby."

You tried to push her off. Your hands found her hips, but instead of shoving her away, your fingers dug into her flesh, pulling her down harder. Your body had stopped listening to your brain. It was operating on some primal frequency, chasing the tight heat of her cunt, the way her walls clenched around you.

"See?" Sohyun moaned, picking up speed. "You want this. You want me. You want what I'm giving you."

"I don't—I don't—"

"The way your cock is twitching says you're lying." She leaned forward, her tongue tracing the shell of your ear. "Just let go. Give me number ten. Give me your baby, and I'll stop."

Your hips bucked up to meet her thrusts. The pleasure was building—that familiar, inescapable pressure coiling at the base of your spine. You hated her for it. You hated yourself for it. And still you couldn't stop.

Then your phone buzzed.

The sound cut through the haze like a blade. Your phone, somewhere on the floor, vibrating against hardwood. A text. Then another. Then it began to ring—a bright, cheerful melody that you recognized as Jiheon's custom ringtone.

"Don't," Sohyun warned, but you were already twisting beneath her, reaching toward the sound. Your fingers brushed carpet, then cold glass. You clutched the phone, thumb fumbling for the answer button, Jiheon's name glowing on the screen—

Sohyun ripped it from your hand.

"No." She threw it across the room. It hit the wall with a crack and skidded behind the bookshelf, still ringing, still buzzing with Jiheon's desperate attempt to reach you. "No. No. No."

She grabbed your wrists again, slammed them back down, and bore her weight onto you. Her hips never stopped moving. Never stopped grinding.

"Focus on me." Her voice was shaking—with anger, with desperation, with something that might have been fear. "She doesn't matter. She never mattered. I matter. This matters. What we're making right now."

"Sohyun—"

"Focus. On. Me."

She clenched around your cock deliberately, a brutal, rhythmic squeeze that ripped a groan from your throat. Her pace became furious, a punishing rhythm that made the couch creak and your bruised ribs scream. The phone kept ringing. Kept ringing. And then it stopped.

And Sohyun looked down at you, tears streaming down her flushed cheeks, her cunt gripping you like a fist.

"Come inside me," she commanded. "Now. Give me everything. Give me our future."

Your body obeyed. The orgasm tore through you—violent, electric, utterly beyond your control. You felt your cock pulse inside her, thick ropes of cum pumping into her clutching heat, and she cried out in triumph, grinding down hard to take every drop. Her own climax hit a second later, her pussy fluttering and snapping around you, milking your cock with desperate, rhythmic contractions.

"Yes," she sobbed, collapsing onto your chest. "Yes. Yes. Yes. That's ten."

The room spun. The fairy lights blurred. Your breath came in ragged gasps.

You don’t ask for much. 

Without a doubt, you’ve been living life to the fullest, in the most luxurious apartment on campus, maybe in the city. Fully furnished, several floors above anyone else, it’s equipped with everything one could need, including a pool and gym, plenty of rooms, plenty of space, plenty of comfort. 

From the expensive decor to the extravagant clothes, the priceless jewelry and fancy cars, this place resembles more a palace than a simple living space. You wonder how you got caught up living in this reality—just you, Wonyoung, and her best friend and mutual roommate, Yujin. 

Roommates doesn’t exactly seem the right word, considering how blurred these lines have gotten, where you've woken up in a mess of naked bodies and tangled limbs, not even remembering whose bed you've fallen asleep in.

Despite all that, you never need to ask for anything—ever. They've taken care of your needs, both financially and in other ways, without ever having to vocalize them, something you’re eternally grateful for. And yet, the one thing you crave most, a nice, peaceful morning to sleep in—you’re almost never granted. 

Every time your head hits the pillow, your phone buzzes. Another text, another voicemail. One more thing hindering your return to dreamland. Leaving it on silent just delays the problem—you know it’ll keep ringing regardless, because the name attached to these annoyances, it’s none other than Jang Wonyoung, and she’ll do whatever it takes to get your attention. 

Her persistence is unrivaled, unmatched, unrelenting. She never rests, not until she’ll get what she wants. Which also means you don’t rest until then. 

You’re tempted to just ditch your phone, open up a window and toss it outside, easily forgetting it exists. The apartment is on the top floor, and it’s a long way down—and yet, you’re not prepared to deal with the consequences that’ll come from that. If only it were so simple. If only you had personally bought this phone instead of it being gifted to you during Christmas by the two of them, after it had been sold out for months—

So with much reluctance, you swallow your pride and kick the sheets off, until your feet touch the cold floor, signaling the start of the day. 

Now, instead of making breakfast for Yujin or sitting down to a nice cup of coffee, you’re walking through foot-high snow, freezing your ass off on a trek through campus when you don’t even have any classes at all this morning. All before the time your alarm usually goes off. That’s your fault, you suppose, for ignoring all her voicemails and responding only to her latest text, the one with an obscene amount of exclamation marks. 

The walk, in hindsight, isn’t too far—ten minutes at the most. But now that you’re meeting Wonyoung for whatever ungodly reason so early, every snow-covered step takes twice as long, feeling like you’re walking in cement. 

But hey, maybe this’ll be worth your while, finding out why the hell it’s so urgent to be driven out of bed at whatever-the-fuck hour this is in the morning. And maybe, just maybe, Wonyoung has a fresh hot cup of coffee and breakfast as your consolation prize (spoiler alert, she doesn’t).

Luckily for you, once the student center comes into view, so does Wonyoung. It’s always so easy to pick her out of a crowd in that ridiculously large coat, and those fuzzy boots that are anything but practical (it can’t be considered Wonyoung if it’s not form over function). This girl’s a head-turner for sure, and even in the freezing cold still manages to look like a model fresh off the Paris runway. 

Wonyoung's attention snaps off her phone when she notices your arrival, turning her head in your general direction. There’s a blank expression on her face when she approaches with her arms folded, icy breath visible with each exhale, and you can see that deadly glare even through her designer shades. “Took you long enough.” 

"Kept the princess waiting, huh? Didn't realize," you reply, unapologetically sarcastic in tone as possible, hands deep in your pockets for warmth. Even with those expensive sunglasses on, it isn’t hard to imagine the eye roll you’re getting underneath. “It's fucking cold, not exactly easy to speed through the snow.” 

"Should have dressed warmer if you're cold then," Wonyoung dares to suggest as she snatches up your wrist, her gloved fingers so warm in comparison. "Get over here, dummy."

Wonyoung closes the distance without a moment's hesitation, planting a soft, heartfelt kiss on your lips, the warmth of her mouth alone a better heat source than any coat could hope to match. She steals a few more kisses, taking no regard for your surroundings, before ultimately settling against your shoulder, not paying attention to any other people passing by the two of you.

"What's so important that you had to drag me out of bed for?" 

"Spending time with me isn't important enough? Not everyone gets to wake up and see this face every day—" Wonyoung says so shamelessly as she leads the way inside.

You’re dragged inside by this delicate little thing, who at the very moment has so much ridiculous strength, guiding you who knows where. Passing by the cafeteria is your first red flag, the fresh smell of coffee taunting you as she presses a button to call down the elevator. 

The steel doors shut, and before you have time to question anything, she's sealing your lips with a kiss again, this time with enough aggression to press you into the wall. After pulling away, Wonyoung’s sunglasses flip up and rest atop her head, followed by a devious, satisfied grin overtaking her lips.

“Not that I'm complaining—but you woke me up just to make out?” 

“Maybe. Hmph,” Wonyoung sighs, her hands reaching out to fix your scarf. “Yujin’s been keeping you all to herself lately.” 

You can’t tell if she’s genuinely jealous, or just looking for an excuse to steal you away—not like it makes any difference. Wonyoung isn’t usually keen on answering questions. She simply kisses you again, hoping to offer a distraction while the elevator slowly hums towards whatever floor is your destination. 

“Ugh, don’t make me say it.” 

“Say what?” 

The elevator chimes, but Wonyoung doesn’t give a hint of explanation when the doors slide open, taking your hand to bring you out onto the rooftop terrace. A burst of cool air comes through that sends a shiver through your body, and this beautiful, white landscape apparently is her top secret location, a secluded outdoor area with the most breathtaking view. 

Unsurprisingly, it’s empty—not a single person brave enough to be up here. A chilly breeze still passes through, even though the patio area is adequately covered. So with any luck, you’ll have the entire place to yourself, with all the privacy in the world to enjoy it, which is perfect when you have Wonyoung to warm up with. 

After dusting the snow off the nearest couch, Wonyoung beckons you to sit beside her, pulling you down to her level. But before you can take another breath, she’s already in your lap to make out with you again, both hands cupping your face, eager to claim what belongs to her. 

"I thought you hate the cold," you say, surprised that Wonyoung of all people came up here to a place like this willingly.

"Yeah, well—“ She pauses mid-sentence, removing her sunglasses off her head and tucking them into the inside pocket of her coat. “I like you more.” 

It’s cute—that even a bratty girl like Wonyoung can show vulnerability like this. 

A rare accomplishment for sure, that rosy pink hue warming her cheeks when she gets all flustered. Even more uncommon that she gets shy long enough to glance away, but once her gaze returns, the demure smile on her face could melt the snow that surrounds you. Wonyoung pockets her gloves as her long, slender fingers play with the collar of your sweater, leaning in for another kiss. 

It’s slow and methodical the way your lips press together, with neither one of you bold enough to be the first to deepen it. All you can think about is how soft these glossy lips are, and how sweet the taste of Wonyoung is that you’ll give anything to it savor forever while her fingers wander through your hair. 

But It doesn't take long for these innocent kisses to turn quickly into something much more heated, tongues slowly invading each other's mouths. The lingering sweetness of her lips pairs with dominance that you’ve eagerly given up, letting her dictate every movement, defenseless to do much more than melt when her teeth play with your bottom lip.

“Daddy…” 

It spills out so casually from Wonyoung's pretty lips, one simple word triggering something dangerous inside you that causes enough hesitation for you to get lost in her eyes. “Princess.” 

“Just missed you, I guess…” she confesses out of nowhere, all out of breath, her icy hands still cupped around your face. The shiver it sends through you isn’t from the frosty weather, or even that favorite little word she loves using. 

“You guess?” you ask, and let out a slight chuckle at the lack of sincerity, admiring how absolutely stunning this girl looks in your arms—those hypnotizing doe eyes, rosy cheeks, and parted lips all forming pieces to the most gorgeous picture.

Then there's that signature pout, potent as ever, on Wonyoung's face that shouldn't be allowed to be this irresistibly cute. 

“Say it back!” 

You can’t help but want to tease her further, leaving a gentle kiss on the corner of her lips, knowing full well Wonyoung's validation has no end to it. "Say what back?"

With a deepening pout and narrowed eyes, Wonyoung grasps your face in her hands, preventing you from averting from her softening gaze that’s becoming increasingly less threatening with each passing second. "Daddy—"

Those little whines that escape only widen your smile as she hits your chest with all the impact of a fallen snowflake, which only succeeds in getting her even more riled up. Admittedly, that isn’t hard to do. 

"Did I miss you?" The more you deny what she needs to hear, the more she crumbles, a total withdrawal from her usual demeanor. “I think the cold is getting to you. Don’t be so delusional to believe that I think about you for a moment, Jang Wonyoung.”

"Shut up," she scoffs, reverting to her usual bratty self, aggressively kissing you and tugging at your hair. "You're the one who walked through the snow just to kiss me."

With nothing to respond with, you let her win in silence—because she's absolutely right. 

Now you're stuck here with Wonyoung perched on your lap, sitting on a rooftop patio, all tangled up with her lips. You can’t help but admit you're hopelessly addicted to the taste of these kisses, the scent of her perfume, and how her eyes fixate on yours long enough that you’ll do anything she asks. And while she's busy kissing your  cheek, moving to trace the outline of your earlobe, you're just letting her explore wherever she pleases, removing your scarf so she has room to leave whatever marks she wants on your bare neck.

“Don’t worry, daddy. This’ll keep you warm instead,” she mutters, her voice so comforting right next to your ear. Her lips kiss into the crook of your neck, sucking and biting on the sensitive skin to leave her first mark—one that Yujin isn’t going to like. 

When she's done, there's another quick peck to the same spot, as if she's somehow fixing the damage caused by kissing it again. These little pecks that trail all across your jawline, they gradually get more needy by the second, in a way that you've not witnessed before, as if every kiss leaves Wonyoung even more desperate than the one before it. 

"Yujinnie is busy all day today with classes,” she says, and her voice dips so sweet and suggestive when she trails off, a hand sliding up to your chin to guide your mouth back to hers. "So that means daddy gets to play with me all day..."

You’re not sure if you should be excited, concerned, or a little bit of both, that Wonyoung has every intention of monopolizing you today. There seems to be no end to this make-out session, but you have nothing to complain about other than being a little cold and more than a little hungry—but that can be ignored when this outing has turned into a cute, unplanned little date.

“Princess,” you get out between the onslaught of kisses, but her persistent lips cling back to your neck, refusing to give up any affection. “I hate to stop kissing you, but if I don’t eat something…“

“Fine,” Wonyoung says, with the most audible sigh she can produce, climbing off your lap reluctantly to give your lips a much needed rest. “Let’s go get you some breakfast then—because daddy is going to need all his energy."

It’s gotten far too normalized for you to even react to Wonyoung mouthing off something like that. 

Once the two of you get back on your feet, you grab your scarf from the bench to wrap it back around your neck, but before you get too far, Wonyoung stops you from hiding the evidence. 

"Nuh-uh—no covering up my work." 

Her pretty, manicured hands snatch the scarf from you, looping it around her own neck and she smiles with pride at all the marks visible on your thoroughly kissed neck. "There, now everyone can see daddy's all mine."

Wonyoung giggles as she spins on her heels, grabbing your hand to lead the way back inside. When her fingers interlace with your own, she gives your hand a firm squeeze, doubling down on her claim as you take the elevator and head back down towards the dining hall. 

On your way inside, Wonyoung’s mere presence attracts enough attention to get a multitude of eyes watching, like she’s walking down the red carpet of a movie premiere instead of just strolling down the cafeteria’s extensive breakfast buffet. 

While you stay one step behind, you can’t help but feel you’re a trophy that Wonyoung proudly displays around, these fresh marks on your neck a badge of honor that backs up her claim.

All this extra attention leaves you a little self conscious, especially in front of a crowd that's mostly students you share the same classes with. On the contrary, Wonyoung's perfectly fine being stared at like this, the attention gained doing nothing but brightening her smile. It’s so easy for her to bask in it while she waits for you to catch up, turning around to plant a kiss on your cheek that’s going to draw even more stares. 

In front of all these eyes, Wonyoung so shamelessly has no trouble giving you all the affection she thinks you deserve, and you’re more than happy to receive it, regardless of the embarrassment that comes at your expense. 

Eventually, you end up in the checkout line, waiting in silence for Wonyoung to go through the process of paying. Her wallet is all glittery pink and so princess-like, pulling out her black card like it’s nothing, easily able to cover the bill for the entire dining room with no sweat. 

Now it's just a matter of finding a free table to sit at, which isn't easy. The morning rush is in full swing, which means most tables are packed to the brim with hungry students, or anyone looking for a place to study that isn’t the stuffy, equally overcrowded library. Luckily, Wonyoung spots a seat in the corner emptying out, almost as if they’ve left at her behest, and you follow behind to claim the precious real estate.

Wonyoung pulls her coat off and takes a seat, with her meal comprising an extra-large iced vanilla latte (that's mostly whipped cream), and a blueberry muffin with a few pieces of fruit. Compared to the meal you managed to get on your plate, hers looks pretty modest, but then again, this girl lives on desserts and coffee alone, the idea of a proper meal a completely foreign concept to her. 

Before you join her, you take one last look around, wondering if the stares have calmed down at all. But no—it's just the opposite, the popularity of hers shining a spotlight on the two of you.

"Daddy, sit." Wonyoung pats the spot beside her instead of across the table, with an innocent smile that contradicts the demanding nature of her tone. You follow her command without any protest and take a seat beside her. 

Unsurprisingly, Wonyoung stays in character, and doesn’t eat too fast as she begins to take the littlest bites imaginable of her muffin, washing it down with a long sip of coffee. It’s a clear contrast from how you’ve devoured nearly half of your breakfast in what feels like only a few bites, but it can’t be helped, especially with how hungry you are, that rooftop make-out session only making matters worse. 

Besides, Wonyoung enjoys watching you eat—offering you a bite of her muffin in exchange for a kiss that she sneaks in when you've finished chewing, giving you a double dose of blueberry that lingers on her lips.

“Daddy…” she says out loud, unconcerned with who hears your little pet name, whether it be the table next to you or the entire dining hall. “Won’t it be fun with no one interrupting us for the whole day?"

With no hesitation, she rests a hand on your thigh underneath the table, and leans in to press some sweet little kisses against your cheek, all that innocence desperately trying to cover up her intentions. 

"Don't you have class later?"

"Do I?" Wonyoung asks all coyly, pulling out her phone for a moment and not even bothering to check her schedule before putting it away back in her purse. "Looks like I'm all free suddenly!"

You raise an eyebrow in suspicion, because you swear this girl skips class like she's allergic to it. But you’re not going to complain about more free time with Wonyoung, especially if it gives you a free pass to get your hands all over this little brat—not that she needs yet another excuse to skip class. 

"Your studies should be a priority, princess."

"Some priorities are more important than others," she says, using a fingertip to wipe some syrup off the corner of your mouth before slowly sucking the tip of her finger clean. It's no accident how she drags it out, swirling her tongue around with a proud smirk as you watch in disbelief until she slips it out with an obscene pop of her lips. "And right now, daddy is my priority." 

This girl is unbelievable. 

Moments ago, Wonyoung was all sweet and innocent, planting these cute kisses on your cheek in a public display of affection that left your face blushing bright red. But now—that shy, innocent persona might as well be discarded entirely, a complete shift that has her becoming bolder in public, and you know she's not above sitting in your lap to make a statement. 

"Besides—Yujinnie has had too much time alone with daddy lately," Wonyoung reiterates as she shoves a strawberry into her mouth, like the idea of Yujin spending time with you is some type of criminal offense. "I deserve to have you all to myself for a while..."

"Needy little brat."

Wonyoung can't help but giggle quietly, her devious little grin widening as she adjusts her headband, staying mindful of her antics. “I’m daddy’s needy little brat.”

It's rather cute to see her jealous side slip out, how she gets so pouty at the mere mention of you giving Yujin more attention. You're pretty sure you could give Wonyoung all the attention in the world and it’d never be enough. 

So after Wonyoung scoots a little closer and offers you a sip of her coffee that you’re not enthusiastic about, you drink it only because she’s the one offering. But god, it's the most sugary sweet drink you've ever had, and you try not to grimace at how this must be nothing but pure sugar, a far cry from your own almost entirely bitter black coffee. (And to think, this girl used to despise anything with a modicum of sweetness.) 

One sip is enough to wake the dead, but you're not surprised given it's Wonyoung, and this must be the secret source of her boundless energy. You're just about done with your breakfast, left to watch her take more tiny little nibbles of food until there's nothing left on her plate. When she’s all done, those pouty lips wrap around her straw one last time, sucking down the remnants with an annoying, loud slurp that leaves some leftover whipped cream on her lower lip that’s licked clean in the most provocative way possible.

"Come on, daddy," she says, wiping her mouth clean with a napkin and inspecting herself in the makeup mirror before packing her things up. "We have all day ahead of us."

✦ ✦

Back in your apartment, the emptiness can’t be ignored with Yujin not around, leaving you almost missing the chaotic energy that exists when these two are in the same space. The only advantage of her absence is that you can focus all your attention on Wonyoung as she rests her head on your lap, looking up at you so contently while you stroke her hair. 

For once, she’s not glued to her phone while you bask in this rare moment where hardly a word is spoken between you two, nothing to break the tranquil atmosphere. 

It's perfect. 

You wonder how it’s possible that this girl can be simultaneously such a hassle to deal with and also make you feel so happy with her presence. The ultimate dichotomy in the form of Jang Wonyoung—endlessly infuriating at times, and absolutely charming at others. 

At least for now, you’ve got the best side of her. Those pretty eyes stare at you with adoration as you comb your fingers through her hair, appreciating each and every detail of her endless beauty. 

"So beautiful, princess…” you murmur without thinking, nearly regretful to interrupt the silence. Taken by surprise, Wonyoung’s eyes flutter open at the sound of your voice, a red tint coloring her cheeks as her lips curl into an embarrassed grin.

“What was that, daddy?"

"You're so pretty," you say, not wasting any time to repeat yourself, and you’ll do so a thousand times if it gets this adorable reaction out of her. 

It doesn't take much to flatter Wonyoung, who thrives on compliments and praise, no matter how small or simple. "You're absolutely gorgeous, princess."

Not often can you make her speechless, even for a mere moment—but while she stays close to your lap, it leaves her completely vulnerable, all flustered, while you play with her hair and appreciate such perfection. 

"Say it again, daddy."

Before you can do just that, you’ll let the moment linger, relishing in how you have Wonyoung melting at words alone. You're more than aware of how easily she’ll turn into a needy mess at the most basic of compliments, this absolute brat now so timid and shy that you don’t want to ruin the moment. 

"Say what?" 

"Say I'm pretty again," Wonyoung whines with her lips pouting, waiting for your response, and she’s so desperate for more affection, like she’ll die if you don’t give her another compliment. And even with that, you hesitate, because it’s seldom you can get the upper hand. So you keep the silence going for longer than necessary, unable to hide the smile on your face from showing through. 

"Jang Wonyoung is the prettiest princess,” you finally manage to say, and she giggles, because nothing can't hold back how this praise energizes her, turning her into an absolute puddle. 

“Prettier than Yujinnie?"

“Wonyoung—"

“Yes or no," she interrupts with a sigh, because Wonyoung isn't ever satisfied unless you acknowledge her being in the top spot. Everything has to be a competition and there's no one else that compares to her.

“I'm not answering that. You're both—“

"So, that's a yes.” 

There she goes again, always misinterpreting your answer to turn it into her favor. Wonyoung props herself up to sit right next to you, leaning over to press a quick kiss against your cheek. "Don't worry, your secret is safe with me, daddy."

You can’t even be that annoyed when she’s this cute, never straying far from that bratty, but lovable side coming out as she clambers onto your lap and shifts her hips to get comfortable. 

Once she sees the marks left from this morning on the side of your neck, Wonyoung can’t help but smile in satisfaction. This sense of pride when she knows you’re all hers. 

"Is this a good place to start, or do you want the bedroom?" Wonyoung asks out of nowhere, barely getting a breath out before she leans in close. 

"Start what?" you ask, again feigning ignorance with a raised brow, because there's no better way to get a rise out of Wonyoung. And falling for the bait so easily, she lets out the loudest huff—this exaggerated frown, lips formed into the perfect pout, followed by rolling her eyes. The trifecta of annoyance. 

"Daddy," she complains with an exaggerated whine, always upset over the littlest thing. 

You’re not dense to what she’s getting at (it’s always the same thing), but you’ll never give in right away. Not when you can so easily let it simmer. "You said you were going to play with me. So that means fucking me all over the apartment until we're tired and sore."

And there's that signature bluntness that Wonyoung is known for. 

It's almost a relief to hear this side of her again, because as enjoyable as the sweet and innocent part of her is—you know it never lasts long. There’s clearly a time limit on how long she can maintain it all before her brattiness slips back out. 

“Did I? Doesn’t sound like me.” 

You now understand why Wonyoung acts this way. Because when you can get under her skin, even in this playful way—it’s more fun than you like to admit. Addicting even, seeing her get all worked up over the littlest things. "I don't remember promising anything..."

She squirms on your lap in frustration, placing her hands on your shoulders as if to convince you with those pleading eyes that it's her right to get her way. Honestly, you don't know how she does this all the time—because just a solitary moment looking into her gaze makes you want to surrender without a fight. 

"You don't want me to take all my clothes off right now? So you can do whatever you want to me?"

So that’s how she’s going to play this. It's tempting, really tempting—and a bit unfair that Wonyoung can provoke you in ways no one could resist, putting that impeccable tight body as her strongest weapon against your defenses. This girl's a master manipulator, no thanks to Yujin teaching her all the ways of seduction, turning her cuteness against you. 

"Then I guess I'll just go take a nap in my room and leave daddy all alone..." There's about a zero percent chance Wonyoung follows up on that threat, but you'll play this game despite that. She knows you will. 

"That's too bad then. Guess I'll just go see Yujin. It's been a while since I've made her—“

“Daddy!" she whines, her mouth pulled into a full frown as she gives up this charade so easily, changing the subject on the spot. "I'm wearing pink today. Underneath all this. It’s brand new, daddy hasn’t even seen it yet. Aren’t you curious to see it?” 

You curse under your breath at how quickly you’re about to fold, because you’re already picturing this gorgeous girl showing off a matching set of sexy underwear that she’ll look so good in. Admittedly, you've got nothing to defend yourself—no good cards left, nothing up your sleeve, and Wonyoung hasn't even gone all in yet.

"Yujin helped me pick it out. It's all lacy and so cute—she said it makes my butt look amazing."

There's nothing more dangerous than that. These two vixens helping pick out something so deadly for each other with the sole intent to make you weak. No one could blame you for buckling under the pressure of wanting to see every bit of Wonyoung’s beautiful body, every inch of that creamy skin yours for the taking. 

You could drag this on, but really, there’s no point, because this girl will bat those eyes, pout those lips, and have you eating right out of the palm of her hand. So, per usual, you topple, without even putting up a real fight. “Fine. Show me, princess.” 

Once again, you’ve succumbed to her ways, and she can’t hide the triumphant smile that flashes across her face, not even a bit humble about her victory. Wonyoung leans in for a kiss, but this time you dodge her lips, instead lifting her up to carry her all the way up the stairs. She wraps her arms around your neck to hold on, giggling even more like it's a bigger accomplishment that she doesn't have to walk up the stairs, getting this princess treatment she absolutely doesn't deserve.

“Not your bedroom, daddy. Yujin’s.” 

Before you’ve even reached the end of the stairs, Wonyoung’s doling out commands, but you follow the detour without objection, changing course straight towards the open doorway right at the far end of the hall. 

Yujin’s bedroom. 

Inside, you don’t bother closing the door, only switching on the lights as you enter with the full intent of defiling it (which, to be fair, Yujin would do exactly the same to Wonyoung, given the chance). 

“Down, please,” is what you’ve been instructed after you give the room a once-over, walking right up to such an immaculately made bed, and deposit Wonyoung not so gently against the firm mattress. The entire room smells so unmistakably like Yujin, as if she left moments ago without you noticing, an aroma that's not going to last much longer with the plans you both have. 

Wonyoung stretches her arms out, getting far too comfortable and almost content to just lie there while your gaze wanders around the room. There's a sense of familiarity walking in here, and the place is well kept, unsurprisingly, with you knowing exactly what’s in every nook and cranny. Normally, you'll see Yujin's laptop sitting on her desk, or on the bed while she lets you distract her from schoolwork by burying your tongue in her ass, because what are those short shorts for other than an invitation to do just that? 

The nightstand drawer consistently holds the same items (hint, one of them is fuzzy, pink, and always gets used on you more times than you care to count), and the closet mirror is seldom used to fix herself in the morning. Instead, the poor thing is only useful for two reasons: watching the view of Yujin's tight ass when she's on her knees, taking your cock so deep in her throat, or your personal favorite—the reflection of herself as you slam that sinful body up against it.

“Aren’t you going to join me?” Wonyoung asks, breaking your concentration as she reaches out for your hand. Before you agree, you remain steadfast at the foot of the bed, arms folded, watching the anticipation building in her eyes. 

“Am I? Weren’t you going to do something for me?” 

It’s the whole reason you two left the couch in the first place, right? The promise of something meticulously picked out that this girl is supposed to model for you, and yet, Wonyoung doesn't move a muscle while your collective stubbornness clashes. 

"Not until you come here, daddy."

Sigh. 

Because of course she can't do something so simple without a negotiation. No, it has to be you who caves in first and climbs onto the bed, with no energy to argue about if it gives you a closer look at this supposed little show that Wonyoung is about to put on. Without another word, she pushes you onto your back and straddles your lap, giving you one more look at her in this cute little white miniskirt and matching shirt ensemble that won't stay on for much longer.

You’re surprised at what comes next, expecting more of a challenge, that you’ll have to do something to earn this illustrious reveal. But then again—Wonyoung wants to show herself off, and nothing will get in the way of that.  

So, without any pause, her delicate fingers pop each button open, revealing a hint of beautiful pink lace. And your eyes are right where she wants them, but before your hands get a moment to be greedy, she stops you, catching a wrist. 

“Nuh-uh, daddy. No touching. Just watch.” 

Wonyoung gives back a smug smirk at giving you guidelines to obey, knowing how difficult it'll be for you to just sit back and enjoy. She continues where she left off, flinging the shirt off her shoulders to expose this pretty bra that's more than met expectations. 

“What do you think, daddy?” Of course, it looks amazing on her, showing off those cute perky tits, and that flawless porcelain skin that you can’t wait to get your hands on. 

"Not sure. Think I need to see the rest before I can decide."

Wonyoung isn’t even a little surprised at that answer, already unzipping her skirt to give more of herself away. She wiggles her hips to take it off her body, all the way down those shapely, endless legs. With nothing left in the way, you've got the best view of this matching set of pink lingerie that hugs her petite frame so perfectly, one that’s so skimpy, yet so ravishing at the same time. 

A simple wow is all you can manage, left nearly speechless, and you haven't even seen the much anticipated angle of that cute little butt that no doubt looks spectacular. Clearly, Yujin knew what she was doing. 

"You like it, daddy?" Wonyoung asks, already so sure of your answer when she grabs your hands to place them on her body. And that’s all you need when she gives permission to touch her to your heart’s desire, to run your fingertips up her toned stomach, right up to her chest, squeezing those perky little tits with all the greed she encourages. 

“Love it. Pink looks so good on you, princess.” 

The more you explore her flawless body, the more she squirms from the attention, desperate to take it all in as your hands touch and grope wherever they please. She simply melts at the attention, but you’re not done yet, waiting until the perfect moment to take two handfuls of that tight ass, unable to resist digging your fingers right in to squeeze tightly, getting a needy little gasp right out of her. 

"Only good?" she pouts, aching for more praise, more validation, and even while she knows how good she looks, she'll simply die without hearing it from your own lips. You kiss her, moving hair out of the way before breathing hot air right next to her ear when you bring your mouth there. 

“My princess looks so pretty, so goddamn sexy, so delicious—can’t take my eyes off you Jang Wonyoung. Can’t wait to taste you all.” It's not quite enough to satiate her ego, but the flattery does a number on her. Any cute little giggles that spill out do so unrestrained while you shower her in all the compliments she craves—that she deserves. 

Yet before you do anything, Wonyoung leans over to you with a beaming smile as she takes hold of your shirt and starts tugging, eager to get you out of these clothes. 

"But I wanna taste daddy first,” she says rather blatantly, working to get the garment up and over your head, stripping it off you in a few short seconds. She loves this, admiring your chest that she’ll spend an entire morning worshiping, kissing, biting, tracing her initials over your abdomen, whatever she chooses—

"Daddy can stare at me all he wants while I suck his cock..."

The thought of getting that pretty warm mouth on you is too good of a treat to resist, especially when Wonyoung is demanding so nicely, acting unusually sweet as she covers your chest with seemingly endless kisses. But soon, that interest wanes when the lust consumes her, unable to hide her desires while she trails further down, nibbling and biting her way further south.

"Whatever you want, princess. I’m all yours." 

“Don’t forget that.” Wonyoung's already snuck the belt from its confines, unbuckling it quickly as possible, trying so hard to mask the urgency that’s guiding her delicate fingers. Without words, she’s going straight for that craving—to taste you, to feel your length on her tongue, and by the time you realize you’ve been left only clad in your underwear, there’s no slowing her down. 

Not that you’d ever want to. 

Wonyoung continues on her mission to strip everything off—yanking at the elastic band to force your boxers down without warning. 

No longer held back, you're fully exposed before this ravenous girl, as Wonyoung licks her lips while admiring your shaft, salivating just a little too noticeably at the sight of her favorite thing in the world. 

"Daddy has such a beautiful cock. Missed it so much, missed how it fills my throat,” she says, and her hands find your thighs, palms stroking firmly up and down while she lays down onto her stomach to get that much closer. 

Her warm breath fans over your balls when she inches close enough, unable to help herself as she leaves kisses right at your base. Wonyoung giggles, smiling prettily before her tongue finally makes its presence known as she swirls around your cockhead in tight, slow circles, moaning a little with just a small taste of you.

She takes a small breath, looking up through those lashes that she’ll bat to get her way—but it isn’t necessary here, because Wonyoung is already where she needs to be. “Gonna make daddy feel so good, better than Yujin ever could.” 

The only response that leaves your lips is a low groan when her lips press a single kiss along the length, taking her sweet time to drag this on for longer than it needed to be. Her tongue immediately proves her point as she takes a long lick, then just like that—her plump lips part to take you, engulfing your swollen cockhead inside the wet heat of her mouth.

You groan with pleasure, resting comfortably against the sheets, and watch how Wonyoung goes to work on this already achingly stiff cock, fueled by lust and greed. She sucks so tightly around the head, not one bit in a hurry, and her mouth creates such a perfect suction around your sensitive tip. As you enjoy the visual, her lips slide down an extra inch or two before rising back up again, establishing a nice, slow pace to start this off, not willing to spoil herself just yet. 

That pretty fucking mouth—it’s your biggest weakness. This pleasure is not just for you, but for Wonyoung, who loves hearing your moans, the low curses, the growls, anything she can pull out of your lips.

The moment you disappear past her lips, she doesn't waste another moment. Wonyoung lowers, mouth sliding a little further, too impatient to wait, surrounding more of that shaft with her silky lips.

“Princess—“ 

Once again, you're completely at her mercy, drowning in anticipation. As those lips go deeper, she takes half your length, slowly bobbing her head to get reacquainted with this wonderful taste. Her warm, slick mouth works you over so expertly, tongue gliding along the underside of your cock to lavish everything it touches. 

The perfect rhythm, those pretty eyes gazing at your reaction—this is all so formulaic, and yet each time still feels as divine as the last. Your tip presses right at the entrance of her throat as Wonyoung dares herself to test her limits, but that gag reflex rudely interrupts. 

The strong grip on your thighs keeps her steady, but she backs out rather quickly, leaving a glistening trail behind as she pops off, gasping lightly from the temporary intrusion. “I’ll take you all down, I promise.” 

She lets out a content sigh, placing more loving, wet kisses on either side of your cock before her mouth dives back down. Determined to swallow you all up to the base, Wonyoung does so with relative ease, her throat relaxing, welcoming it all in. Inch by inch, she conquers your length, taking that thick cock until her nose nestles at your stomach—every throbbing part in the warm depths of her throat, buried right where it belongs. 

“Ah fuck—“

If only Yujin could walk in right now and see her at work, on her own bed no less. She’d be more proud above all else, despite finding something wrong with her technique. 

Wonyoung's gone well above and beyond, taking in every last inch at this point, more than a little eager at getting so messy when her drool runs down your cock. She’s absolutely starved for it all. She’ll do whatever she can to keep those moans going as she pins your hips down to the mattress, delivering pleasure like no one else can. These long strokes down her throat that get you all delirious. 

“Just like that, fuck—keep that pretty fucking mouth right there,” you demand, and when you reach for the top of her head to press her down, Wonyoung doesn't push away—only giving you everything needed to hold her there for as long as you want.

Wonyoung is more than willing to let you choke her with your cock, favoring your length stuffed down her throat over everything else. The only sounds out of her besides the constant gurgle of spit, are the pitiful, desperate, yet grateful little moans, maintaining all this eye contact despite how many times your throbbing cock presses deep into the back of her throat.

Those teary eyes, they watch intently, because this is what gets her off the most, expertly sucking cock while the faces you're making encourages her all the more. It's a sight to behold, how she gets between your legs, devotedly sucking your dick as if nothing else matters to her.

It’s an art form really, how Wonyoung can wring out so much pleasure like she has something new to prove. 

But for a moment, those pretty hands take the lead while her mouth rests. One strokes you with those slender fingers so vigorously, spitting all over your length to rub it all in, while the other plays with your balls, testing how full she’s made them. 

It’s not out of the ordinary to sneak a quick handjob in the morning while Yujin is still fast asleep besides you, so in need of claiming your first orgasm in the morning before you’ve even left the sheets. 

But getting this glorious blowjob, there isn't anything quite like the warmth of her throat, even as the need to please you clashes with the gag reflex that she tries to overcome. In all honestly, you like hearing this struggle, the way Wonyoung chokes and gags on your length while putting your pleasure first, eyes watering, but never failing to give your cock exactly what it demands. 

“That’s it, choke on that fucking cock, god, princess—“ And she listens so obediently, holding you there for a moment longer until she doesn’t—retreating all too suddenly, letting your shaft throb freely when it slips from between her lips.

"Tell me how good I am first, daddy. Tell me how good I am at sucking your cock and I'll keep this in my mouth,” Wonyoung responds after backing off, gasping as she does so, drool running down her chin. “I’ll get my lips right down to your balls and get you off so fucking hard…”

Wonyoung always knows the worst time to get demanding, the perfect time to tease when she knows you need it the most, yearning for the touch of her mouth, ready to do whatever she asks. Before you get another word in, she’s covering your cock in slow, heavy kisses, a barrage to add to her saliva so she can savor you with her pretty lips. 

There’s no use hiding your desperation as she continues these noisy, open-mouthed kisses all the way down to your balls and back up again, while your tip remains swollen, unattended to, aching for those pillowy lips again.

"Princess, need that pretty mouth back on me right now. Need it so bad, back where it belongs—" you plead, but this doesn't dissuade her one bit as she keeps taunting you, with her mouth that refuses to wrap fully back around the head of your cock. 

"You didn't even tell me what I wanted. Not gonna do anything else until I get what I want, daddy."

Once again, she needs that satisfaction like oxygen, needs to hear the words falling out of your mouth while she lies there motionless, waiting and ready. Wonyoung wears a look of impatience, falling back into that wicked smirk while her lips part just the tiniest bit more, brushing teasingly close to your dick. "God, your mouth, princess—it's so perfect, and those fucking lips, love how they look wrapped around my cock." 

Her hot, heavy breath is all you’re getting for now until you give in, until you meet the exact quota of praise she craves. "Tell me I'm better than Yujin. Tell me I make you cum harder, tell me, daddy."

"Princess, stop—"

"No, daddy, tell me. You know I suck your cock the best. All you have to do is say it. Tell me how much better my mouth feels, how much you prefer me swallowing your cum over Yujin.”

It's all part of this devilish game that she loves to play, making it worse by blowing warm air right over the tip, those swollen, red lips getting within kissing distance before pulling away without the slightest brush. You know she's just dying to take you back into her mouth again, but she’ll tease you forever if you don’t give her the right answer.

You give a heavy sigh in defeat. There's no fighting against this brat, not when you’re so rock fucking hard. “You’re the absolute best, princess. Nobody sucks dick better than you—not even Yujin. Your mouth is better, and nobody can make me cum like you can.” 

“Wasn’t that easy? I knew you loved my mouth more,” Wonyoung says, hearing just what she needs to hear, and finally, those sweet lips find their rightful place, easing the frustration you've dealt with. They part with ease, swallowing down your length in one movement, and then it’s an endless repetition of her warm mouth down to your base. 

Wonyoung keeps you buried inside her throat, wanting to choke on you longer than the previous attempt. Her eyes water a little more every time her nose nudges against your abdomen. 

This momentum keeps going, a combination of that intense suction, the messy sounds from slobbering everywhere, and the incredible warmth—everything mixes so perfectly, and even better, the look in her eyes when your dick is so far down her throat.

“Fuck, your mouth, it feels so good, so goddamn good, love when you choke on my cock like this.“ 

“Don’t worry, daddy, not gonna stop, gonna choke on this thick cock until you cum down my fucking throat. Need my tummy so full.” 

It’s rather indulgent for both of you; Wonyoung, who loves slobbering on your length as much as you love hearing all her obscene slurps, and the feeling of those silky soft lips sliding so wonderfully down your shaft, taking you so, so deep. You’re fighting the temptation to take over, to fuck her face so roughly until that makeup she spends so long on is all ruined, because this is her show—you’re just here to enjoy it. 

When the pace starts to falter, she lets your cock slip out of her mouth to focus on your balls, drawing each one into her hot mouth, to give some much needed attention. 

Wonyoung loves taking turns between worshiping your length and those balls, so full of your delicious load she can't wait for, tasting and fondling them to her heart's desire. Her pretty little hands still pump around your shaft when her lips aren't surrounding you, and that hungry little mouth keeps slurping wherever she can, making such loud, obscenely wet noises.

“Mmmph, fuck, daddy—your balls feel so nice and heavy. So full of cum all ready for me to drain, aren’t they?” 

It’s beyond pornographic how Wonyoung devours every part of you, and she’s not done giving you all the pleasure you can handle, not until her tongue moves down lower past your balls, traveling where it doesn’t typically go. You have no use for words, just heavy breaths, reacting almost involuntarily as her tongue swirls against your asshole, flicking against that most sensitive, tight opening.

“Jesus, fuck, Wony—“ 

It’s quite unexpected, but no less welcome, the way that wet, wonderful tongue stimulates you in ways that make your head spin. She's dedicated to this, keeping a hand wrapped around your cock while her mouth is busy, making you feel a rush of pleasure like no other, rimming your ass without an ounce of shame.

You can see her entire grin between licks, and her focus lies with pleasuring your asshole, slobbering and working the tip of her tongue at such a gentle speed, easing in all this pleasure. And somehow, this is a level of vulnerability that's unfamiliar, leaving you overwhelmed by escalating bliss when Wonyoung goes as far as burying her tongue inside your ass, delving as deep as possible. "Yujinnie said you loved this, daddy.”

And god, she’s never been so right. 

You’re utterly at Wonyoung’s mercy while she laps at your asshole with her tongue, occasionally pulling away to lick at your balls. All in addition to her hand pleasuring your shaft, not leaving any part of you neglected. 

It’s every bit unfair that her tongue feels so good against this unexplored area, your nerves going wild. Because it’s not enough that she’s great at giving head and riding your dick. She has to be so good at something only Yujin only does, your body nothing but receptive to pleasure that's reducing you to a mess faster than you'd care to admit.

It shouldn’t come as a surprise, really, that this girl can eat ass like a pro. You’ve seen her go to town on Yujin dozens of times, either to get all prepped to take a pounding in her ass or because she absolutely loves doing it. But this—this pleasure has no right being so good, so sinfully indulgent. Wonyoung just has to show off her expertise, that she’s good even at this, her tongue making a complete meal out of your ass.

And from now on, you’ll have to make sure Wonyoung includes this in her oral repertoire, because that bratty mouth is capable of far more than just complaining. 

She works your cock faster while her mouth stays occupied with your asshole, giving more bliss than you know how to handle. Each and every stroke keeps you so painfully hard in her firm grip, her tongue shoved so deep, immersed in this ass licking that steals all these moans out of you, that even Yujin would be speechless. 

If you're not careful, you’ll explode in no time—but Wonyoung knows exactly how far to push this when you're getting on the edge, knowing full well when to pull back so she can go right back to sucking you off, because that's the only way she wants this huge load. 

So rather regretfully (or maybe thankfully), you’re given a break from this wonderful tonguefuck, with no hopes of trying to collect yourself. Then, without further warning, Wonyoung takes your cock down her throat, all in one motion, like it was never a struggle from the beginning. 

"Princess, wait—" 

Your poor dick can't take much more, leaking so much, throbbing so hard—but more than anything, you feel the need to reciprocate, after Wonyoung giving a whole new level of pleasure. "Need to taste you. Need that pretty little cunt in my mouth right now."

As usual, there's a pout that leaves her lips when she's so clearly disappointed, hating the thought of losing her favorite treat. But there's no need to stop what she's so focused on doing when you, in fact, can still return the favor—at the same time.

"Come over here,” you beckon over with a finger, and it doesn’t take long for Wonyoung to crawl up the bed, piecing together the puzzle of what comes next. 

Her pout suddenly disappears while you tug at the waistband of her pretty panties, and she gets the message loud and clear, slowly turning around so you can see what the pink lace hardly hides beneath—a perfect, tight ass that looks devastatingly good in lingerie. But it's not an image you get to savor for long as she peels it down and flings it off somewhere across the bedroom, bringing her pussy and those pale cheeks back right where you need them: facing your hungry, depraved stare, showing off everything.

There's something unbelievably satisfying about having this view—even better when you pull her body closer to let her straddle your face, ready to lose yourself in this absolute feast right above you.

“Daddy…“ Not another word leaves your mouth as you dive in between her thighs, your tongue grazing those slick folds to lap at her needy cunt. When those pillowy cheeks press right against your face, that’s when the real treat starts, all for you to enjoy as your tongue explores her warmth. You're devouring Wonyoung from the start, straight for those soaked lips to get your tongue all over her slit, exploring with vigorous licks to drink up her arousal and spread her mess everywhere in the process.

“Oh god, daddy,” Wonyoung squeals, before that devilish mouth gets occupied by something far better, moaning over your cock, somehow holding back as much as she can while you lose yourself. She’s in utter bliss as you eat her out, and you keep a firm grasp on her taut buttcheeks, spreading them open to keep your tongue buried inside her wet cunt while you work your way up towards her sensitive clit.

She isn't going to let herself get distracted either, picking up right where she left off, drooling all over your dick in between messy slurps. Nothing gets her more excited than pleasing you, moaning for the thick cock that she needs in the back of her throat, the taste that she can’t go without.

"Fuck, princess," you manage between heavy breaths, trying to keep an even, slow pace with your tongue. A near impossible task, so lost in how amazing her mouth is on your dick, savoring every second her arousal coats your lips. “You taste so damn good. God, I could eat your pussy like this for hours.” 

"And I could keep sucking daddy off for even longer—" she retorts, not breaking the pace of this sloppy suction that sounds almost as good as it feels. 

While Wonyoung doesn’t let up with her oral assault, you're intent on playing with her clit, circling it with the flat of your tongue and flicking without any proper direction, slurping so harshly when it’s between your lips. You’re just trying to survive that warm mouth whenever she swallows you down, finding the only distraction is to bury your face in her slick heat.

It really doesn't get better than this. 

You’re making an absolute mess between her legs, and in exchange she’s treating your shaft so well, bobbing her pretty head to get your length down, to take in every single inch she can get.

"Daddy—" she sighs between licking her own saliva off your cock,  and takes these shallow breaths that are anything but steady. Wonyoung can barely keep it together. All these frantic licks you give her needy clit make her moan so desperately against your throbbing shaft when you do so, downright devouring her cunt. 

“That feels so fucking good—you're so good with your tongue, daddy, please don't stop—"

Like you can hardly think of anything else but eating Wonyoung’s delicious pussy, your new purpose in life only to drive her wild and keep all these juices flowing. There's absolutely nothing you'd rather have right now but your tongue prodding so deep inside this pretty sopping hole.

The mere noises she makes while you’re teasing and slurping on her cunt is a reward on its own. The most adorable whimpers and whines always slip out whenever your tongue enters her wetness, no matter how hard she tries to hold them back.

"Daddy, oh my fucking god—" Wonyoung keeps rocking her hips, barely able to do anything but pump your cock in her hand while she selfishly grinds her dripping cunt right on your face. "You’re gonna make me cum if you keep fucking doing that."

That’s exactly where you need her. You can taste exactly how close she is—so close—from her juices flooding your tongue, and that only makes you more driven to push her over that edge, licking, sucking, doing all that's needed to have Wonyoung make a mess all over your face. Her hips can't stop moving, so desperate for friction, so, so desperate for release, whimpering and begging all while she rides your face and chokes her moans on your cock.

You do everything you can to get her to the end, tongue lapping up all the nectar that spills from her pussy, so ravenous to taste all those delectable juices flooding your mouth. She’s equally eager and enthusiastic to take in more than she should, to make a sloppy mess of your shaft, trying her hardest to take you to the hilt while utterly lost in euphoria.

“Almost there—“ she gasps out, and her hot breath spurs on your efforts when she swallows you right down to your balls, the one last thing that sets her off. With a muffled cry against your cock, Wonyoung shakes so hard from your tongue buried deep inside, and her arousal gushes out for you to swallow eagerly, her creamy thighs violently trembling over you while you savor this mess. 

It’s a high so intense that it seems endless, lingering while you lick her through it to ride it all out, almost to the point of a second one right after. Once Wonyoung recovers some of her composure, all that attention goes right back to your cock—holding your hips tight, so she can fuck her face on you so vigorously, barely able to keep up as she attempts to finish you off. 

"Jesus, that throat feels so fucking good, princess, fuck—"

And god, you have no chance to fight back when your cock gets so submerged down Wonyoung’s throat, all the warmth that engulfs, her face between your legs so desperate to drain your balls. 

All you can do is surrender to the pleasure as her ravenous mouth takes over, her throat enticingly guiding you towards that edge. You're beyond capable of articulating anything other than needy groans, not with how Wonyoung's gagging on your length with no regard whatsoever for anything but making sure you unload deep in her mouth.

She doesn’t relent one bit through all this sloppiness, her wet throat choking around the entirety of your shaft to urge your orgasm out. Wonyoung knows a huge, creamy load is building inside of you, and she’ll do whatever it takes to milk it out. You’re not done on your end either, tongue back on her oversensitive clit, licking with so much endless fervor to get another messy release out of her right along with yours. 

“Down my throat, daddy, right now,” she urges, right before another toe-curling orgasm rocks her right against your face. By this point, you're ready to follow right behind, groaning heavily as she keeps sputtering and gagging with only one purpose, to guzzle this inevitable load right down her throat.

“Princess—“

Wonyoung’s a master at what’s next—before you can fully process it, your shaft is buried down her throat, violently pulsating as she squeezes your balls tight, forcing all of your cum right down the back of her throat. 

You've got a grip on her ass as tight as you can brace yourself while she draws that load out, greedily swallowing as much hot seed as her pretty little mouth can handle. Wonyoung guzzles it down with nothing but pride, even what overflows down to your balls, emptying everything you’ve got straight into her stomach as if she's been waiting all day for a load like this. 

Nothing escapes—not when she keeps you stuffed down her throat, keeping you throbbing far long after you’ve been drained, taking every drop that’s earned. 

In the wake of it all, when she’s done her job and your balls have been completely emptied, you’re left a sweaty, panting mess, drowning in euphoric bliss while you stay in her throat.

Because nobody can make you cum like Wonyoung’s mouth can. 

But she’s not done—it’s pure greed, even when your cock is all sore and sensitive, she keeps going, licking up the length of your shaft to clean up anything she may have missed. Wonyoung knows you'll need a moment, that it's not like your balls could produce any more cum so soon after such an intensive explosion in her mouth. Yet, she's definitely not about to let that stop her from trying to milk another thick load, using every method at her disposal to get your overstimulated dick to yield a reward from those swollen balls. 

(No doubt, she learned that from Yujin, because they both have a knack for draining you like it’s essential to their survival.)

It’s a torturous mixture of painful pleasure, when her mouth gets back on you, slow and steady, every motion a reminder that your poor, oversensitive shaft can't take anything else. Yet, you have trouble getting any words out, struggling to put together a proper sentence to protest. 

"Ah, fuck, princess, wait—"

She keeps swallowing you all up for several more slurps, until her hot mouth releases your cock with a wet, loud pop, flicking at your slit for a moment longer just to drive you crazy. And while you're too obstructed by Wonyoung's wet cunt to see what's going on, you know there's a sinister little smirk at the other end. "Too sensitive, daddy?" 

You groan out something that resembles an answer—not that Wonyoung didn’t already know before you've opened your mouth, but that doesn't mean she’ll stop her magic on your dick that's far too sore for a second orgasm anytime soon.

So, she keeps a tight grip, letting this contradictory form of bliss linger as her soft hands caress the entire length of your aching cock. There are no doubts about how sensitive you are, and yet—she wants to get one more load out of you, somehow, thumbing over your swollen tip just to hear how helpless you'll sound in a moment of vulnerability. 

"Fine, daddy. We'll do something else,” she says with a disappointed sigh. For now, Wonyoung plans on leaving your cock alone, so that your sensitive length can recover for her next pounding. Instead, she mounts your chest with that alluring look on her face to kiss you, tasting herself on your lips. 

"Let's see what Yujin keeps around here…“ 

When you lose the comforting weight of her petite body, you barely have time to figure out what that means when Wonyoung looks around in search of anything that could aid in this mission of making you cum once again. She scrounges around the room like a detective on the hunt for clues, digging through drawers, closets, anywhere someone curious might look until—

"Ooh, what's this?"

You’re still in recovery mode, and from your point of view, all you can see is Wonyoung finding something underneath the bed—a rather large black box that’s surprisingly discreet, given what must be inside. She hoists it onto the mattress with a puzzled look on her face, running her thumb over something in the front. "It's locked. Needs a code, daddy."

At first, you think she's joking, but when she passes you the box, you immediately notice that yes, there's a simple four-digit dial presumably holding the entire thing shut. What surprises you the most isn't that it's here, but that it's locked in the first place—there's hardly any secrets kept between you three, spending half the time all sweaty and naked together, sharing just about every moment there is with each other. But the more you think about it—the more you realize this is less a box of secrets and more... a surprise.

"Oh, wait. I know, it must be daddy's birthday." Surely, it can't be that easy, that there has to be at least a little challenge to figure it out—but before you can even finish your thought, you hear the click of the lock as it opens up. "Oh, look at that. I'm a genius."

You'll let her have this moment of glory, trying not to roll your eyes as Wonyoung flips the lid open and peers inside. She gives a dramatic gasp and runs a finger over the velvety interior before digging through what appears to be an arsenal of sex toys: handcuffs, rope, blindfolds, various paddles, plugs, and several things you don't even know the purpose of. But there's something at the very bottom that grabs her attention the most, and Wonyoung removes a pink leather collar, one that has the word 'Brat' inscribed in rhinestones on the front, dangling a metal ring in the center. 

"Looks like that's for you," she teases, examining the collar and how it couldn't be anymore perfectly tailored to her as she looks through the rest of the box for anything of note. Of course, there's a plethora of fun in there, but nothing you really haven't seen before, nothing that you or Yujin haven't used on Wonyoung at this point. 

"Let's see how this looks on me."

Unsurprisingly, it fits Wonyoung just right as she fastens the collar around her neck, playing with the ring as she proudly shows it off. "Pretty, right?" 

It's more than pretty, seeing the light pink against Wonyoung's delicate pale skin as it's now firmly wrapped around her neck, the color matching her discarded thong that's long forgotten somewhere on the bedroom floor. "Not bad."

"Not bad?" she huffs, annoyed that you can't be more impressed, even more offended that you haven’t given her a barrage of compliments. "Ugh, fine. I know how I can make it look better."

Suddenly, Wonyoung kneels on the mattress, unhooking her lace bra in a swift, graceful movement to give you a glorious view of her body on full display. All that milky skin, her perky tits with those pretty nipples, but now your attention is fully directed on the leather wrapped around her neck as she lies down and spreads her legs so invitingly. "How about now? Isn’t this where a brat is supposed to be? On my back, legs spread, all ready to serve?" 

"Since when are you so obedient?"

"Never. I'm just letting you think I am."

Despite what she says, Wonyoung always demands to be manhandled by either you, or Yujin (or both). Labeling her a brat is an understatement; she relishes in provoking you, yet equally revels in the consequences and punishment she rightfully deserves.

As she's self proclaimed—Wonyoung isn't a good girl. 

You look through the box of toys one more time before moving it over to the nightstand, just in case you'll need it later. Upon your return, you straddle her petite, pretty body, staring her down for a moment, letting the anticipation build while you decide on where to start. "Princess—"

"Yes, daddy?"

She looks so good like this, completely naked underneath you that there’s no shortage of options for how you can toy with her body. "What should I do with you?"

"Whatever daddy wants." 

That's too simple of an answer. You've got plenty of ideas swirling around in your head, most of them involving leaving this bratty girl a whimpering mess by the end of it all. And yet, it's so hard to pinpoint exactly where to start. "That's boring, princess. Don't make me choose."

She pretends to think long and hard about it, as if there's anything she wants other than to be completely ruined—the usual treatment. "Dunno. Surprise me, daddy."

That doesn't exactly help, but when has she ever cooperated in any meaningful way? But if Wonyoung wants to be surprised—then you'll do just that and oblige her. 

"What color?" you ask, offering no further explanation. 

"What color for what?" Wonyoung asks, tilting her head slightly in confusion. You give no further details. 

"Just answer the question, princess." 

Wonyoung's not oblivious to what possibilities lie before her, but still hesitates to give anything substantial. "Hmm, well this is pink… so that means I should pick something else doesn't it?" 

Of course, never straight to the point with her, nor willing to offer a simple answer. It's exactly what you should expect from Wonyoung, and god knows she'll drag this out if you really let her. But if she wants to keep stalling, you'll just end up picking for her. "Do I have to specify every fucking thing I ask you, brat?" 

She's certainly earned that title. 

"Blue, I guess." It sounds indifferent, just answering to get you to stop asking—but this is Wonyoung, you have to remind yourself, who’ll spend an hour in her closet trying to decide which one of twelve different pairs of shoes that all look the exact fucking same she wants. "No, red. I want red." 

Again, never a straight fucking answer out of her, like you've given her the most difficult decision in her life. "Are you sure about that, princess?" 

She doesn't even answer at first, Wonyoung doing everything in her power to protest even the littlest thing, making sure you don’t forget the word that’s etched across her collar. "I said I wanted red, daddy."

That fucking attitude never ceases to show up when it's least welcome. Normally, you'll fight it right away, but this one time you just let it slide, which seems to only make matters worse, as if you’ve insulted her by doing so. “Okay then. That's your choice.”

Then there's just silence filling the room while you have this stare down with Wonyoung, waiting to see who'll back down first. It's definitely not going to be you. The tension builds without anyone saying a word, and it's clear neither of you have any plans to back down or concede. In fact, her bratty little glare grows with intensity until—

"Arms up, princess."

There's no telling how this will go, but you have a suspicion that it’ll end up the same exact way. You're sure today won't be any exception. "Sorry? Didn't hear that, daddy." 

"I said—arms up. Brat. I'm not going to ask again."

Judging by that arrogant little smirk on her face, you know Wonyoung heard you the first time. And it’s exactly what you expect as a response. 

Without warning, you seize each of her dainty wrists, stretching both arms over her head to pin them against the pillows. That's when you go for the box on the nightstand, finding exactly what you need in no time—a long bundle of red rope that's perfect for tying up an uncooperative brat.

Taking one more look at the nightstand, you’re tempted to find something to silence that fucking mouth—then again, you’d never miss a chance to hear her beg for more, or those pretty little moans that'll slip out when she's absolutely lost in bliss. So, instead you're settling for this, winding the rope around Wonyoung's wrists to bind them together, tight and secure, forcing her arms to remain up and out of the way. 

"Much better. Must you be so difficult? Disobedient little slut." 

Her eyes gleam at the harsh words, a low whimper falling from her parted lips. Once the rope is secured and tied in a tight knot, there's no escape. Despite that, you go the extra mile just to be sure the binds won't come loose so easily. "But daddy likes it that way, doesn't he?"

You can't exactly deny any of those words. 

She's doing this for your benefit equally as much as to annoy you. And you can't say you don't enjoy putting Wonyoung in her place, especially when this is the end result—bound and spread out all for you, helpless and at your complete mercy. 

"Fucking brat. You think I like having to do this? All this extra effort?"

"Uh-huh. Daddy loves tying me all up so I can't escape, so he can use me how he wants." Wonyoung starts squirming a bit in her tight restraints before raising her hips, giving a sinful view of her wet, dripping cunt that looks oh so enticing. "And since I'm such an unruly, disobedient little slut—" 

Your expectant gaze wanders right between her pretty thighs, looking long and hard at those plump pussy lips that make your mouth water, so desperate to sink your cock straight into that wet, tight cunt. Wonyoung can't hide her satisfaction either of being restrained like this, relishing the feeling of being trapped, completely at your mercy, unable to move without your help. "Daddy's gonna have to make me behave..."

"Oh, don't you fucking worry about that." The threat comes with a guarantee as you spread Wonyoung's thighs further apart, getting a closeup look at all her drenched flesh covered with arousal in the process, just waiting to be used. It makes your cock ache. “Daddy’s gonna fuck the brat out of you.” 

Wonyoung tries to close her thighs shut at the thought of that, already so fucking wet and needy, but you’re not having it. Her pretty cunt practically screams to be filled, while you open those creamy thighs back up that feel so hot against your palms when you run your hands across them.

"I'm so ready to be all stretched out by your big, throbbing cock." It's hardly subtle, those depraved words spilled out so breathlessly that it drives you crazy—not even sure which of you needs this more, her or you. "Fill me all the way up, daddy."

Now that you've got her like this, completely at your whims, you've got time on your side to really tease Wonyoung to her wit’s end. "Got a better idea. Maybe I'll use one of these toys Yujin left us. That's what they're for, isn't it? So many to choose from, I can take my time…” 

She shakes her head a bit, not liking what she’s hearing one bit. "No, daddy, please. These toys aren't as good as your amazing cock. They can't pump a big load inside my pussy like you can."

Her demeanor changes so quickly, a flick of a switch how her tone softens now that the threat of denial is looming over her head. You have Wonyoung right where you want her, and how much effort she’s going to put in to earn your cock—well, that all depends on her. 

“Daddy's poor balls must be aching. They look so full and heavy—they need emptying again, don't they? Don't you wanna dump a massive load inside my pussy?" 

She's too good at this, at trying to tempt you with words alone. There's no denying how well it's working, getting you so fucking hard, with this urge rising and building inside you. But you can't falter, not yet, not when you're pulling all the desperation out of Wonyoung with so much more to go. 

"Who said anything about dumping a load inside you? I've got you to myself right here. When I’m done, I can just jerk myself off all over your pretty naked body. Maybe even leave you all tied up here for Yujin to play with after. This is her room, after all." 

"Daddy, no! That's not fair. You're supposed to use me. And fill me up with cum. That's what I'm here for. To be your pretty little cum dump. Then to keep your dick all nice and warm after..." 

How cute, how she tries to guilt you in to letting her get what she wants. Shameless doesn't even begin to describe Wonyoung, but that’s precisely what makes this so fun to deny her. "Or—I could just fuck Yujin right here. On her bed. Right in front of you. She loves my cock just as much as you, doesn't she? Maybe even more. What if I emptied my balls into her instead?"

"Daddy wouldn't dare." 

"Wouldn't I? Yujin wouldn’t have any trouble riding me while we make you watch, not touching you. Make sure I only fill her up. You enjoy watching us fuck all the time already. Why is this any different? Maybe we'll keep your pretty pussy untouched for the rest of the weekend. I’ll just let her cum on my cock over and over until we tire out…"

More than anything, the idea of going any length of time without your cock inside Wonyoung seems to rile her up the most, hitting all the right nerves that get exactly the reaction you want out of her. 

"Daddy wouldn't be able to go through with that. You love my pussy way too much," she pouts, clearly getting frustrated at all your empty promises. "I'm the prettiest and the tightest. Don't you remember the first time you came inside me? How much cum you emptied? No way daddy can't go a whole day without this tight little pussy wrapped around your big, perfect cock..."

Oh, she knows better. Wonyoung knows perfectly well how this need is mutual, how little either of you can go without getting some relief, finding any excuse to fuck. Better yet, there's nothing Yujin would love more than that—you flooding her cunt with an endless amount of cum while this poor girl stays all tied up, only able to watch from the sidelines. But neither of you are actually that cruel, as fun as that temptation is. 

"Daddy, please. Put that big dick in me. I'll let you use me as much as you want, pound me until you give me a nice warm creampie—a thick one I can feel right here, deep inside me."

She’s pulling strings that have no control attached to them. 

“But what if I wanna fuck your ass first? Or use your throat while your head hangs off the edge of this bed just the way you like, hm, princess?"

"Anything, daddy can use any part of me. Fuck whatever hole he wants. Just—please, can't wait, need to have that dick in me right now. Don't care where it goes—" 

Now, you could really keep this going, but there's not much point when she's reduced to begging so pathetically like this, already way past the breaking point. So there's really only one thing left to do. “Of course I’m gonna fuck you. And cum in you. Needy fucking slut.” 

"Daddy's needy little slut," she corrects with the biggest sigh of relief. "Wreck my little pussy. Don't hold back anything or go easy on me."

You're more than a little annoyed that she thinks you ever would. "Quiet, princess. All that bratty mouth is good for is making my dick wet."

Without waiting for another response, you're grabbing Wonyoung’s body and pulling her closer towards you to line yourself up properly with her dripping entrance. Just the tip of your cock presses right up against that hot, slick opening, ready to fill her up and stretch her wide open. There's no rush, not when you can see the anticipation in her eyes, so desperate for your first thrust. 

Before you satisfy her needs—needs that you both crave, you take a moment to let it sink in: how Wonyoung is all tied up, helpless, with her arms bound above her head and the prettiest collar around her neck, only able to take whatever you have to offer.

“Such a pretty little thing, all tied up, ready for this fucking cock. Gonna have a lot of fun with you, princess.” 

You don’t have any time to wait for a response, and slowly, you ease your shaft in, inch by inch, groaning at the overwhelming pleasure of sinking into her warmth. Wonyoung's so unbelievably drenched, yet so fucking tight as you push yourself in as deep as possible. It's the perfect stretch of her walls as you slide the entirety of your hard cock into this tight, little hole, unable to hold back any moans at how ready her pussy is to take you—until you're balls fucking deep inside her. 

“Daddy—“ 

"God, princess, love how fucking tight you are. Your greedy little cunt is just begging for a huge load in it, isn’t it?”

Wonyoung just nods wordlessly, struggling with the bratty facade now that she's got exactly what she needs, all this heat enveloping your shaft so nicely. You don't even bother to move your hips, not yet, opting to leave your dick inside her, lost in that incredible wetness that pulls you right in—but not for too long.

Before she can even complain, your hands settle firmly over her tiny waist to keep her in place as you slide the entirety of your length back out in one fluid motion, all the way back to the very tip—then immediately thrust back in full force,  impaling Wonyoung with your cock. 

"Oh god—" she gasps, the stretch so sudden as she tightens around your cock so deliciously. And you're quick to follow up with more, because there's only one way this is going to go. There's no patience left, and your only plan is to pound into her pussy hard and fast like you never have before.

"How's that dick feel in you, brat? This is what you needed, right? Just how you like it?"

"Y-yes, right there, daddy," Wonyoung whines, losing all of that attitude in an instant, giving in to every little sensation that floods her body. "Ah—so good. My pussy loves having your dick in me. Fuck me, fuck me until your balls are empty."

Like there was ever a question you intended to do anything else.

You've been storing up all this pent up frustration to fuel your hips, every forceful thrust completely ravaging her. The pace isn't even remotely gentle, knowing full well Wonyoung needs this pounding more than ever as your cock plunges into her wet heat without even the slightest pause.

"Your pussy feels so fucking good," you growl, unable to tear your gaze away from her perfect features, how she lies there helplessly, taking your cock so well. 

You can barely handle how goddamn tight she is. With each deep stroke, her sticky arousal clings to your throbbing shaft, running down the length while her mouth hangs open to release every breathless moan. 

"Give me more, daddy. Harder—"

Even all tied up, this girl thinks she's in charge here. "Needy slut. You're lucky I'm fucking you in the first place. Your pussy should be thanking me."

"Th-thank you, daddy," she moans, in absolute fucking ecstasy, her perfect cunt squeezing the life out of your cock whenever you bottom her out. Her entire body gets rocked with the sheer force of every harsh, deep thrust, her cute breasts doing their best to bounce along to this unforgiving rhythm that hasn't even begun to settle. "Harder, p-please—"

"Oh, so you do know how to ask nicely? But only when I have my cock buried in you?"

Wonyoung only lets out a strangled gasp in response from another hard thrust, saying nothing more and resorting to desperate whining each time your cock completely fills her to the hilt. Your urge to deny her has all but vanished, with her sticky warmth enveloping the entirety of your shaft when your cock fills cunt—so hard, so goddamn deep, enough to overwhelm her, and she can’t even scramble for anything in reach to grab on to. 

Every single time you slide out, her slick, tight walls pull you right back in, making it impossible to ignore the ravenous clutches of her cunt. Soaked can’t even begin to describe her slick entrance, an abundance of arousal ensuring the path is paved for your cock to ram into her pussy unimpeded. 

“Feels so good, daddy," Wonyoung breathes out, her face inching closer when you lean forward, lifting those lusciously long legs up in the air to place them over your shoulders with her feet left dangling in the air helplessly. 

Nothing holds you back when you’ve got her all folded up, your hips dominated by lust and pleasure as her pliant body accepts this pounding so effortlessly. The room resonates with flesh meeting flesh, and it all feels a little too unreal. Every ounce of pleasure intensified as you plow into her tight heat that devours every inch you have. 

“You're so deep in me—want you to cum, want you to cum so hard inside me, daddy—please."

That’s when you really start to give it to her. 

The bed underneath Wonyoung creaks louder and louder in protest, being drowned out by the sinful sounds that escape her lips that urge your cock right back in. 

You can see it in those fucking eyes, that she’s a frustrated—unable to touch you, unable to wrap her arms around you and dig her nails right into your back. The poor thing can’t even touch herself to give that extra pleasure while you're railing her into the mattress like this. She'll survive, because it’s not like this isn't making her wetter by the moment, every second she's restrained like this, taking your cock with her mouth open and pussy swallowing all of you up. 

“I think I like you best like this. Tied up and helpless with nothing to do but lay there, just a warm, wet hole for me to use until my load fills you."

Wonyoung can’t exactly disagree with that, even as much as she wants to have her hands wandering your body, tugging at your hair, or feeling your muscles flex under her fingers. “But doesn’t daddy miss when I wrap my legs around, so I can make sure all that cum goes deep inside me? You're going to cum in me, right?”

"Not if you keep asking me again and again. Maybe I'll just paint your pretty face and leave you here instead," you say, slowing your pace while you think it over. She just frowns, trying to use her cunt to encourage you, to make you keep going with extra force. Even when you shift the position of her legs, taking them off your shoulders to spread them wide as they’ll go, knees nearly to her chest so you can really drill her, she doesn’t give up. 

"I know that's not what you really want," Wonyoung says, countering with a little smirk that contorts in pleasure when your cock angles at just the right spot. It never ends—even as your hips piston so viciously, and she takes the entire length of you right back down to the hilt with every stroke. That bratty mouth never stops. 

“Daddy wants to cum in my needy little pussy. Why else would you be fucking me like you’re trying to break me? Why else would you put me in this position if you’re not going to breed me?” 

“Do you ever—fucking stop talking? Regretting not gagging you from the start.” 

“Not a chance daddy would do that. You like hearing me beg for your cock too much.” If her goal is to get you to lose control, to go as rough as you can get, she's absolutely going to get all that and more. You gain a new rush of energy to fuck your frustrations out, slamming into this blissful warmth that you're eager to spill your seed in despite what any other words that leave your mouth say.

“Inside me, daddy, deep inside," Wonyoung insists, voice faltering with every strained syllable, barely hanging on through all these forceful thrusts. She looks absolutely satisfied with you groaning above her, like her pussy controls your cock and not the other way around. “You wouldn't dream of pulling out—daddy wants to fill me so bad."

Can’t argue with that one bit. With her legs so helplessly in the air, she watches you pump away without restraint, into this intoxicating heat, until there’s no defenses left against the inevitable. 

“Can feel you throbbing so much, daddy must be so close. My pussy needs it—please, pound my little hole until your balls empty, fill me to the brim,” she pleas so innocently, so sweetly, in contrast to your harsh, raw fucking that hasn't given even a moment's break since you lifted her legs up.

"You think you deserve that? You really think you deserve for me to breed you?" It’s a question unfitting an actual response, because like hell,  you don't deserve to empty yourself into Wonyoung's warm little pussy. If anything, you deserve this reward for putting up with her for so long every single day. 

"When has that ever stopped you before? Daddy always fills me even when I've been a bad girl. You love shooting all your hot cum inside and watching it slowly drip out of me..."

Once again, she has you there. All you can do is put more power into your hips, to make sure your climax arrives sooner, slamming your entire length so deep into that dripping cunt that's begging for your release. You're not leaving this bed until Wonyoung gets filled.

“Fucking brat. Only because your cunt feels so good is why I'm finishing inside you. And because Yujin isn't here to drain me."

Wonyoung isn't the least bit insulted by these words, smirking happily at getting what she thinks she oh so deserves. And while you might be the one in control, fucking her senseless with her legs obscenely spread up in the air like a toy for your own pleasure—she holds more power than you realize. Because, as always, you're giving her exactly what she wants, even when you pretend not to.

"Daddy, gonna—" is all she can get out before you feel her pussy begin to spasm violently around your shaft, clamping down so tightly you might burst before she does. 

"Then fucking cum, you cock hungry little slut—then your pussy can have my load." You can't exactly blame her when you’ve been pounding her so harshly into the mattress, that she falls into an orgasm so quickly, reaching the height of her pleasure—and you're almost there yourself.

You can feel her orgasm rip through her body as she moans your name breathlessly, eyes rolling back into her head in bliss as your cock fills her sweet cunt over and over, the tip ready to erupt at any second. More than anything else, the thought of emptying your entire load into Wonyoung makes your hips buck even faster, until you're pushing her into yet another climax while desperately seeking relief yourself.

"You want a hot fucking creampie in your pretty little cunt, huh? That’s what you’ve been begging me for?" you growl, as you struggle to maintain this brutal pace, chasing after your own release, and Wonyoung can't even cling onto any part of you to help speed this all up. She only lets out all these fervent nods, still going through the motions of her own next impending orgasm, toes all curled, mouth wide open as her pussy clenches and clenches all around your aching shaft. 

And it feels way too fucking amazing to resist.

Nothing stops you from plowing this girl who's so helplessly at your will, waiting for your cock to reward her, lips parted, eyes closed, the loop of her pretty collar dangling with each rock of your hips, until you’re right there at the end—

You fucking unload everything. Every drop that belongs to Wonyoung, every hot creamy spurt that she's craved for so long. Her gaze never falters while her pussy milks out all this cum right up into her womb, coating her insides with a massive thick load, just like she desperately needed.

Not for a second do you stop your harsh movements, pushing every bit of your heavy load deeper into this needy cunt. Wonyoung has never looked so pretty—arms bound, legs up, accepting all of your cum, her beautiful skin glistening with sweat from being used like this, red marks already forming around her delicate wrists, while your cock keeps pumping more and more thick, pearlescent cum into her. 

Only then, do you ride this high, when you're so wonderfully exhausted from giving this brat everything until your balls have nothing more left to spill.

“Fuck, princess,” you mutter between pants for breaths. Her body is equally spent, still twitching in the aftershocks of her own blissful release, and the warm, messy load in her pussy. "Made me cum so much—"

“Don’t I always?” Wonyoung responds between tired gasps for air, and even on the verge of passing out from exhaustion, she still finds the energy to bite back. 

You'd usually find your own snarky response to that, but you’re far too tired and much more interested in seeing the mess that’s been left inside her. When your cock slowly slides out of her freshly used cunt, a familiar sight greets you—so much thick, creamy white flowing out, mixed in with Wonyoung's own juices that looks absolutely exquisite spilling all over the inside of her creamy thighs.

“Shit—you’re fucking right. I love watching my cum drip out of you," you admit, trailing lazy fingers over her body, her glistening stomach, those perky breasts, and her delicate neck that looks so good with that little collar around it. Your touch wanders up to her face, caressing her cheek with a thumb, admiring the faint smile that graces those pink lips. "Love cumming inside you more than anything, princess."

Wonyoung doesn't say a thing except to giggle softly, more than a little pleased with herself. She's been in this bound state for long enough, so it’s about time to untie her, you think, loosening the knot enough to free those slender arms. You slip off the collar from her neck as well to make it easier to catch her breath, and rub the soreness out of those dainty wrists, kissing them as the rope slips off and goes forgotten. 

For sure, Yujin is going to notice this all when she gets back and ask for details.

Now that Wonyoung can move around unrestricted, she uses her newfound freedom to prop her body up and lean in for a kiss. It's more subdued than you expected, given that she still needs a few fleeting moments to gather her senses while you slip a hand between her legs to play with the mess you've made in her cunt, making sure the remnants of your load don’t escape. 

"It’s so much… so easy to make daddy cum, isn't it?" she says, still unable to breathe normally, a proud smile on her face like she didn't cream all over your cock an uncountable number of times either.

"Don’t make me regret untying you, princess. Next time I'm leaving one of those toys in you, shutting the door, and getting some peace and quiet."

"Like you could ever leave me. Daddy can't get enough of my tight little pussy."

"Brat."