Pairing: Karina x CEO, Karina x Bad Boy, Karina in a fivesome
Word Count: 6700++
Synopsis: Karina may look like the polished leader of Aespa, but she’s nothing but a slut who craves creampies on the daily. She can only get that from Winter’s cheating ex…that is, until she meets the new older rich CEO who she calls Daddy, who’s a fan of breeding her with creampies, too. Office play hijinks and a fivesome follow.
Patreon: Caitlined
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Sneak Peek
Karina lay on her back in the luxurious hotel bed, her tall and lean body stretched out like a cat’s. Her pale skin looked almost luminous as it glowed under the soft lighting of the room. As Aespa’s leader, she always looked so elegant and polished in public, emanating the perfect idol aura. Who would have known she was secretly a depraved slut who craved creampies on the daily?
Jack, Winter’s cheating ex, hovered over her, his hips snapping forward as he drove his thick cock deep into her tight, wet pussy. Karina’s large, sparkling eyes were half-lidded in pleasure, her soft moans filling the room like sweet music. “Mmm…yes, just like that,” she murmured, her voice breathless and needy.
Jack kissed her deeply, their tongues tangling messily as he fondled her small, perky breasts as he fucked her, pinching and rolling her sensitive pink nipples between his fingers. Her slender, model-esque body arched beautifully beneath him, with her long legs wrapped loosely around his waist, pulling him deeper.
“Fuck, Karina…you’re so tight,” Jack groaned against her lips, pounding harder. “Always acting like such a proper leader…but you’re just a little slut, aren’t you? Fucking your friend’s ex like this?”
Karina whimpered into the kiss, her inner walls clenching around his girthy cock. “Yes…mm, fill me up, Jack, please…”
Truth be told, Karina was addicted to creampies. She was obsessed with the feeling of hot, thick cum flooding her womb. Very few people knew about or were willing to indulge her secret fantasy, but Jack was more than happy to use her whenever he wanted. Winter had no idea her bandmate was secretly fucking her ex behind her back. As for Jack, despite cheating egregiously first, he was still salty over the fact that Winter had gotten back at him by indulging in a fivesome with some sickeningly pretty boy band members. It felt good that he was getting to fuck Winter’s so-called friend and leader, even if she wouldn’t get to find out about it.
Jack’s thrusts grew faster and deeper, his balls slapping against Karina’s ass as he made out with her sloppily, groping her small tits roughly. Karina’s body shook with every powerful stroke, her fair skin turning pinker from her efforts, and her moans getting higher and sweeter.
Finally, Jack couldn’t take it anymore. “Fuck it, I’m cumming! Take it all, you dirty girl.”
With a deep groan, Jack buried himself to the hilt inside her. Karina’s large eyes widened in bliss as she felt him erupt—thick, hot ropes of spunk shooting straight into her womb, pulse after pulse of creamy seed flooding her tight cunt. He kept thrusting through his orgasm, pushing his load deeper, making sure every drop coated her insides. Excess semen leaked out around his cock, dripping down her pale ass and onto the sheets in sticky white trails. Karina moaned loudly into his mouth, her body trembling through her own orgasm, and her own pussy milking him greedily for every last spurt. She felt nothing but bliss—complete and utter bliss.
They stayed connected for a moment longer, kissing lazily as his cock softened inside her cum-filled pussy. Finally, Jack pulled out, a thick glob of his seed oozing from her well-fucked hole. He smirked down at how she was now leaking his cum.
“My dirty secret,” he chortled. He gave her small breasts one last squeeze, then got dressed. “Don’t tell Winter. This stays between us.”
Karina just smiled softly, still flushed and glowing, gently rubbing her lower belly where she could feel the warmth of his cum inside her. “I won’t…as long as you promise that you’ll come back soon. I need more of this.”
Jack chuckled and left the hotel room, closing the door behind him.
Alone again, Karina lay there for a while, her legs still slightly parted, feeling his cum slowly drip out of her. She sighed when she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Even now, from the neck up, she looked so elegant and pure. No one would ever guess what a creampie-obsessed slut she really was.
It was hard, living like this. Being an idol with a perfect image yet having such a depraved yearning for creampies. If anyone ever found out, she would be done for. And not many male idols she knew were as depraved as her. She was pondering on how to find her next partner when her phone suddenly rang.
“Hello? Manager-nim, what’s up?” she asked, trying not to yawn. The fucking had really tired her out.
“Karina? Great news! Remember that show I was telling you about? Well, I managed to wrangle a role for you. You’ve been offered a small but important acting role in the new K-drama everyone’s talking about. The lead actors are huge names—it’ll be excellent exposure!”
“What?” Karina sat straight up in bed, her heart pounding excitedly. “That’s…that’s fantastic!” She’d been trying to book an acting role—even just a minor one—for the past six months, but there was always that problem of being underqualified for it. Even then, when producers chose to cast her, owing to her massive popularity as the leader of Aespa, it would always clash with one of the group comebacks or her solo schedules.
Her manager paused. “There’s just one condition…tomorrow afternoon, you have to meet the CEO of the beauty company who’s one of the main investors funding the project. He personally requested to meet you. Wear something professional. This could be really big for your acting career.”
Karina frowned and shifted her weight in bed, feeling another warm trickle of Jack’s cum leak from between her legs onto the sheets. “Wait, what? He wants to meet me?”
“Yes. He requested that he wants to have a one-on-one in-person interview with you. It’ll take place in his company headquarters, so you don’t have to worry about anything inappropriate taking place. I’ll pick you up at 8am sharp tomorrow at your hotel and bring you to the company building. I’m coordinating with his staff now, and one of his assistants has promised to personally escort you to his private office.”
Karina pursed her lips. “Got it. Sounds pretty interesting.”
“Really? Word on the street is that the CEO’s sister is a fan of yours. He might just be trying to wrangle a personal meet and greet session with her. Anyway, it’s getting late. Get some sleep, okay? I’ll pick you up bright and early tomorrow. Good night, Karina.”
“Good night, manager-nim.” Karina hung up. Her heart pounded as she envisioned meeting this mysterious CEO tomorrow. Slowly, a smile spread across her face. Her manager might not be aware, but this was the type of big boss she could easily wrap around her finger.
Karina’s manager picked her up the next day and brought her to the CEO’s company headquarters. Karina saw it was Natura corporation, a trendy, organic makeup brand. As promised, an assistant led Karina down the sleek, modern corridor of the company’s top floor.
As Karina chatted with the assistant, she strutted confidently in her shiny black Louboutins. She was proud of the outfit she picked out today: a tailored gray blazer over a black leather pencil skirt that hugged her tall, lean figure perfectly, accentuating her long legs and subtle, graceful curves. The blazer was buttoned for the most part, except at the very top, offering a teasing glimpse of the delicate black lace bralette underneath, pushing up her small, perky breasts.
As she walked through the hallways of the fancy office, she heard several whispers. Several employees peeked from their desks, excited and starstruck to see her up close.
“Is that Karina from Aespa?”
“Wow, she’s so much prettier in person!”
“Her face is so small. Is she the new company spokesperson?”
“I hope so, but I heard the CEO is just investing in a new drama that she’s attached to.”
“Someone get the marketing team to have her wear our products ASAP! I want to be able to meet her!”
Karina kept a pleasant yet neutral expression on her face, not making eye contact with employees but not wanting to seem rude or standoffish either. Years of media training had prepared her for situations like this. SM had always advised them to keep public interaction with fans at a bare minimum, lest some people complain about how she waved at one group of people yet ignored the other. This way, she could be fair to all her starstruck admirers.
Soon, they reached the end of a hallway. The assistant knocked once on the large oak door, then opened it. “Daepyo-nim, Karina from Aespa is here for your meeting.” Karina tried to catch a glimpse of the CEO, but it seemed like he was seated in a swivel chair and facing away from the doorway.
“Thank you. You may leave us,” a deep voice replied.
Karina shivered. Even his voice sounded sexy.
The assistant bowed and closed the door quietly behind her.
Karina stepped inside the luxurious private office, trying not to seem too in awe of the designer furniture and floor-to-ceiling windows. The man behind the massive desk in the center of the room swiveled around in his chair. She was momentarily surprised. He looked to be in his late thirties or early forties, strikingly handsome with thick salt-and-pepper hair, a strong jawline, and deep-set eyes. He stood up from his seat then, and she was impressed by his physique; he was easily six feet tall, with broad shoulders and a powerful build that filled out his tailored navy suit perfectly.
“Karina,” he said warmly, extending his hand. “I’m Nathan, founder and CEO of Natura. It’s an honor to finally meet you.”
Karina stepped forward. His handshake was firm yet gentle. “It’s nice to meet you too. I heard you have a sister who’s a big fan of Aespa?”
Nathan’s lips curved into a small smile as he held her hand a second longer than necessary. “Actually…that was me. I’m the fan. I’ve fantasized about you for a very, very long time.”
Karina’s eyes widened slightly, but she didn’t pull away as Nathan continued talking.
“I won’t lie to you. I want you. But I’m not going to force anything on you. If you say no, I’ll still fully support the drama project and secure your role. No strings attached. This is entirely your choice.” He took a deep breath. “However, if you say yes…rest assured that this’ll stay between us. We can be discreet; I have all the media companies on my payroll. And you will be compensated very, very handsomely.”
Karina felt a flutter in her chest. She’d never been directly propositioned like this before. For some reason, she was drawn to his confidence. She bit her lower lip as she met his gaze. “I expected as much,” she said, trying to speak calmly. “And no worries. I’m quite…interested in what you have to offer.”
Nathan’s eyes darkened with desire. “Then it’s settled. I like how easy you are to talk to. I’ll have my driver pick you up later tonight for my private penthouse. My assistant will send you a message regarding the scheduling details. We can take things from there.”
Karina gave him a playful wink. “That sounds fantastic. Except…” She let her eyes drop seductively. “I’m ready now.”
Nathan’s grin turned predatory. He reached under his desk and pressed a button. Immediately, blackout shades covered the floor-to-ceiling windows. The soft click of automatic locks echoed next, followed by a glowing “Do Not Disturb” light appearing by the door. “There. No one will interrupt us now.”
Karina grinned. She didn’t waste any time. She began unbuttoning her gray blazer, letting it fall open to fully reveal the sheer black lace bralette clinging to her small breasts. Nathan sat back down, watching her admiringly. She quickly slid the blazer off her shoulders, exposing her tall, lean frame and flawlessly pale skin. Then she dropped gracefully to her knees and crawled across the carpet until she was in front of his swivel chair, her leather skirt riding up her thighs as she reached for his belt. She fumbled slightly with his pants until she finally managed to yank down his zipper and free his cock.
Of course, just like the successful CEO, his cock was impressive—long, thick, and meaty, with prominent veins running along the shaft. The fat head was already glistening with a bead of precum. Karina licked her lips. Plus, those huge ballocks looked like they were filled with semen.
Karina looked up at him seductively, refusing to break eye contact with him. She then leaned in and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to his swollen cockhead before parting her plump lips and taking him into her warm mouth.
“Mmm…” she hummed, swirling her tongue around the fat tip of his member, reveling in the taste of his musky, salty precum. She bobbed her head slowly at first, taking more of his long meaty length with each pass, her cheeks hollowing as she sucked him. Her delicate hands wrapped around the base of his shaft, stroking what she couldn’t fit inside yet while her head started moving faster and faster.
Nathan groaned deeply, one hand gently threading through her hair. “Fuck…you look even more beautiful with my cock in your mouth.”
Karina moaned around his thickness, the vibration traveling down his shaft. Nathan closed his eyes in pleasure. She forced herself to go deeper, relaxing her throat until she could take nearly all of him, her nose brushing against his pelvis. Saliva dripped from the corners of her lips, coating his veiny cock as she sucked him with eager, wet sounds. She alternated between long, deep strokes and playful licks along the underside of his textured, veiny shaft, paying special attention to the sensitive head of his penis, flicking her tongue rapidly over the slit.
When he wasn’t closing his eyes or groaning in pleasure, Nathan sat back and enjoyed the view of Aespa’s leader servicing his cock. Her tall, lean body looked so elegant even when she was on her knees. She kept her large, sparkling eyes locked on his the entire time, looking up at him like the devoted cocksucker that she was while she worshipped his meaty cock.
Soon, Nathan’s breathing grew ragged. He gripped her hair a little tighter. “I’m close… swallow it all, Karina.”
She responded by sucking him harder, faster, taking him as deep as she could. With a low, guttural groan, Nathan finally came. Thick, salty ropes of semen flooded her mouth, spurting powerfully against the back of her throat. Karina’s eyes watered slightly but she kept sucking, swallowing every heavy spurt with soft, greedy gulps. The warm, musky taste of his semen flooded her senses as she milked him dry, refusing to let a single drop escape.
When he finally finished, she slowly pulled off with a wet pop, a thin string of saliva and cum connecting her plump lips to his broad cockhead. She licked her lips clean, savoring the taste, then looked up at him with flushed cheeks and a small, satisfied smile.
Nathan stroked her cheek gently, breathing hard. “That was amazing. Holy fuck. You really are perfect…there’s just one problem.”
Karina raised an eyebrow. “What is it?”
Nathan grinned. “Can you call me ‘Daddy’ next time?”
MEOVV Anna, AESPA Karina & KEP1ER Dayeon X Male Reader
Tags : Breeding, Obsession, Possesive Love, Femdom, Begging For Creampies, Vaginal Cum, Impregnation, Foursome, Lots of Moaning, Spanking, Forced Sex, Ahegao, Cheating, Dark Romance
Words : 4,986 Words
A Commision Work For My Friend @KariNeko From Ko-Fi. Hope Yall Enjoyed It.
The candles on the cake sputter, the wax dripping onto the chocolate frosting like a sick joke. You stare at the flickering flames, feeling the weight of three pairs of eyes drilling into the side of your head. The air in the apartment is stale, thick with the smell of cheap beer and the expensive perfume Karina and Anna drowned themselves in.
"So," Karina starts, her voice low, vibrating with a weird sort of tension that makes the hair on your arms stand up. She's leaning against the counter, arms crossed under her chest, pushing those heavy tits up until they're nearly spilling out of her tight black top. "You gonna tell us, or do we have to beat it out of you?"
You swallow hard. Your throat feels like sandpaper. "Tell you what?"
"Don't play dumb, asshole," Anna snaps from the couch. She’s kicking her legs back and forth, her skirt riding up high enough to show the lace tops of her stockings. She looks bored, but her eyes are sharp, glinting with something dangerous. "We know you've been sneaking around. Phone glued to your hand, smiling like a fucking idiot at the screen. Who is she?"
You glance at Dayeon. She’s sitting quietly in the armchair, hands folded in her lap, looking unassuming in her oversized sweater. But she’s watching you too, her gaze dark and unblinking. It’s Dayeon who scares you the most right now. She was always the quiet one, the one you saved from the bullies back in school. But ever since she came back from Seoul, there's a new edge to her.
"It's… it's Joona," you admit, the words feeling like lead as they leave your mouth. "We've been seeing each other for a few months. I was going to tell you guys, I just—"
The silence that follows is absolute. It’s the kind of silence that happens right before a gunshot.
"Joona?" Karina laughs, but it's a sharp, jagged sound. "That plain-looking girl from accounting? You're dumping us for her?"
"I'm not dumping anyone, we're just friends—" you start, standing up, trying to put some distance between you and the sudden shift in the room.
"We aren't just friends," Anna cuts in, her voice dropping to a whisper that screams across the room. She stands up too, moving with a predator's grace. "We never were. And you know it."
Before you can process what that means, the door clicks shut. You didn't see Dayeon move, but she’s suddenly standing by the entrance, locking the deadbolt with a deliberate, terrifying click.
"What are you doing?" You back up, your knees hitting the edge of the coffee table. "Dayeon?"
"We gave you everything," Dayeon says, her voice soft but carrying a terrifying weight. "We protected you. We loved you when no one else did. And this is how you repay us? By spreading your seed for some trash who doesn't deserve it?"
"Seed?" The word sends a jolt of panic through your system. "What the fuck are you talking about? Open the door."
Karina lunges. She’s faster than you remember, tackling you with enough force to knock the wind out of your lungs. You hit the floor hard, the back of your head slamming against the wood. Before you can recover, Anna is there, grabbing your wrists and pinning them above your head.
"Get the fuck off me!" You struggle, thrashing your legs, but Karina straddles your stomach, her weight pinning you down. She’s heavy, solid, and strong as hell.
"Shh, baby," Anna coos, leaning down close enough that you can smell the mint on her breath. "Stop fighting. You're only making it harder on yourself. We're going to take what's ours."
"We?" You gasp, staring up at them. Karina is grinding her hips against your stomach, a manic grin stretching her lips. Dayeon is walking over slowly, pulling a pair of scissors from her purse.
"You think we didn't see the way you looked at us?" Dayeon murmurs, kneeling beside your head. She runs the cold metal of the scissors down your cheek, sending shivers racing through your body. "All those years. Playing innocent. We were waiting for you to grow up. To realize you belonged to us."
"I—"
"Shut up," Karina barks, grabbing your face and forcing you to look at her. "You're ours. You hear me? This cock," she grabs your crotch roughly, her fingers digging in painfully, "is ours. And we're going to use it until you forget what that bitch Joona even looks like."
"Rip it," Anna commands, nodding at your shirt.
Dayeon doesn't hesitate. She slides the scissors under the collar of your shirt and snips. The fabric tears with a harsh sound, and she keeps cutting, slicing right down the middle until your chest is exposed to the cool air. They don't stop there. Karina grabs the ruined fabric and rips it apart, the buttons pinging against the floor like scattered bullets.
"Look at this body," Anna breathes, her hands roaming over your chest, her nails scratching hard enough to leave red welts. "We built this up. We fed you. Took care of you. It belongs to us."
"Please, guys, stop," you beg, but your protest is weak, drowned out by the blood rushing in your ears. The sheer absurdity of the situation warps your mind. This is a nightmare. It has to be.
"Stop?" Karina laughs, leaning down to bite your neck hard. You cry out as her teeth sink into your skin, sending a spike of pain mixed with a confusing rush of heat through your system. "We haven't even started yet."
She stands up briefly, tearing her own top off. Her massive tits bounce free, heavy and pale, her nipples hardening instantly in the air. She's not wearing a bra. She grabs your hands and places them on her breasts, forcing you to squeeze.
"Feel that?" she growls. "That's what you need. Not that flat-chested whore."
Anna follows suit, stripping out of her clothes with frantic urgency. She yanks her skirt down, kicking it away, then tears her panties off like they're made of paper. She climbs onto your legs, pinning them down, her wet pussy sliding against your jeans.
"He's hard," Anna observes, looking down at the bulge in your pants with a hungry smirk. "The little pervert likes it when we force him."
"No, I don't—"
"Liar," Dayeon hisses in your ear. She’s stripped too, her slender body pale and flawless. She straddles your face, her thighs pressing against your cheeks, cutting off your view of the others. The scent of her arousal hits you like a drug—musky, sweet, and overwhelming. "You've always wanted this. You just needed a push."
"Eat it," she commands, lowering her cunt onto your mouth.
You clamp your mouth shut, turning your head to the side.
"I said eat it!" Dayeon grabs your hair, yanking hard enough to bring tears to your eyes. She forces your head back, grinding her pussy against your lips. "Don't make me hurt you."
You have no choice. You stick your tongue out, lapping at her folds. She tastes salty and sweet, impossibly wet. She moans loudly, grinding down harder, smothering you with her flesh. You can't breathe, your nose pressed against her clit, your tongue working frantically to keep up with her rhythm.
"Fuck, yes," Dayeon whines, her head thrown back. "That's it. Take it all."
Meanwhile, you feel hands fighting with the button of your jeans. Karina rips the button off, the snap loud in the small room. She yanks the zipper down and tugs your pants and boxers down in one rough motion. Your cock springs free, slapping against your stomach.
"Look at this beautiful dick," Karina purrs, wrapping her hand around your shaft. Her grip is tight, almost painful. She strokes you roughly, her dry palm chafing your skin. "It's so big. So perfect for us."
She doesn't wait. She spits on your cock, using the saliva as lube as she jerks you off faster. Your hips buck involuntarily, the pleasure intense and humiliating.
"He's loving it," Anna laughs, watching your face. "Look at him, trying to hump Karina's hand. What a slut."
"I'm not a—" you try to shout, but your voice is muffled by Dayeon's pussy.
"Shut up and suck!" Dayeon grinds down harder, cutting off your air again.
The lack of oxygen makes your head spin. The combination of Karina's rough handjob and Dayeon's suffocating weight on your face is short-circuiting your brain. You feel your resistance crumbling, replaced by a primal, burning need. Your body is betraying you, reacting to their touch despite your terror.
"Get him wetter," Anna says, leaning down to spit on your cock too.
"I'm gonna ride him now," Karina announces. She climbs over you, positioning her dripping hole above your shaft. "I'm gonna milk every last drop out of him."
"No, wait!" You try to buck her off, but Anna grabs your shoulders, pinning you down.
"Take it, bitch," Karina snarls.
She slams down onto you.
You scream into Dayeon's pussy as Karina impales herself on your cock. She’s tight, so fucking tight it feels like she’s tearing you apart. She doesn't give you time to adjust, doesn't give a shit about your comfort. She starts riding you immediately, bouncing up and down with brutal force.
"Fuck! Yes!" Karina screams, her nails digging into your chest. "You feel so fucking good! Better than I imagined!"
Her pussy grips you like a vice, rippling around your length as she pistons up and down. The sound of skin slapping against skin is loud and wet, filling the room. Smack, smack, smack.
"Look at that face," Anna coos, stroking your cheek as you gasp for air whenever Dayeon lifts her hips slightly. "He's breaking already. Look at his eyes rolling back."
"He's thick," Dayeon moans, grinding her clit against your nose. "I can feel him throbbing inside you, Karina. He's gonna cum so hard."
"No," you gasp, your voice weak. "I don't want to—"
"Don't lie," Karina growls, slapping your face. The sting shocks you. "You love this. You love being used. Admit it!"
"Admit it," Anna echoes, pinching your nipples.
"I… I…" You can't form words. Your mind is fracturing under the onslaught of sensation. The pleasure is too intense, too sharp. It borders on pain, but it’s dragging you under.
Dayeon lifts off your face, finally letting you breathe. You gasp in huge lungfuls of air, your vision swimming.
"Say it," Dayeon commands, grabbing your chin and forcing you to look at her. "Say you belong to us."
"Please…"
"Say it!" Anna slaps your inner thigh.
"I belong to you!" you scream, the words ripped from your throat.
"Good boy," Dayeon purrs. "Now fill Karina up. Breed her pussy."
"Breed me!" Karina shrieks, riding you even harder, her ass cheeks clapping against your thighs with bruising force. "Knock me up! Put a baby in me!"
The filthiness of it, the sheer depravity, snaps something inside you. The last threads of your resistance snap. You stop fighting. Your hips lift off the floor to meet Karina's thrusts, driving your cock deeper into her wet heat.
"Yes! That's it!" Karina howls. "Fuck me! Fuck me like you mean it!"
You grab her hips, your fingers sinking into her soft flesh. You hate yourself for it, but you're pounding into her now, matching her brutal rhythm. You want to cum. You need to cum. You need to fill her up just like she asked.
"See?" Anna laughs, watching you lose control. "He's just a breeding stud. That's all he's good for."
"My turn," Anna demands, pushing Karina off you.
Karina cries out in protest as your cock slips out of her, glistening with her juices. She collapses on the floor, panting, her legs twitching.
Anna doesn't waste a second. She straddles you reverse-cowgirl, her ass facing you. She grabs your slick cock and lines it up with her entrance.
"Watch this," she orders, looking back at you over her shoulder.
She sits down on your shaft, taking you balls deep in one smooth motion. She groans, her back arching, her head thrown back. She starts twerking on your dick, her ass bouncing up and down in mesmerizing circles.
"Fuck, his cock hits the spot," Anna moans, her hand reaching down to rub her clit furiously. "It's so deep!"
You stare at her ass, mesmerized by the way it jiggles with every thrust. You reach out, grabbing her cheeks, spreading them apart to see her asshole clenching as she rides you.
"Spank me," Anna commands. "Spank me hard!"
You bring your hand down on her ass with a loud crack.
"Harder!" she screams.
You slap her again, leaving a red handprint on her pale skin. You do it again and again, lost in the violence of the act. Your cock is throbbing, the pressure building to an unbearable peak.
"I'm close," you grunt, your hands gripping her hips so hard you're leaving bruises.
"Don't you dare cum yet," Dayeon warns. She's back, sitting on your chest, playing with her tits. "You have to breed all of us. That was the deal."
"I can't hold it," you gasp, your vision blurring.
"Hold it!" Karina snaps, recovering enough to crawl over and grab your balls. She squeezes them, just on the edge of pain.
You scream, your back bowing off the floor. The denial is torture, but it only makes the pleasure more intense.
Anna is bouncing wildly now, her pussy gripping you like a machine. "I'm gonna cum! I'm gonna cum all over his big dick!"
She screams, her body convulsing as her orgasm crashes through her. Her pussy clamps down on you, milking you, trying to pull the cum out of your balls.
"Switch," Dayeon says, pushing Anna off your dripping cock.
Anna rolls to the side, gasping, her body trembling with aftershocks.
Dayeon climbs on top of you, facing you this time. Her expression is calm, almost serene, contrasting with the madness of the last few minutes. She positions your cock at her entrance and sinks down slowly, savoring every inch.
"You're mine now," she whispers, leaning down to kiss you. It's a soft, tender kiss, completely at odds with the brutal fucking she starts next.
She moves her hips in a slow, grinding motion, swirling her walls around your head. It feels different—deeper, more intimate. She stares into your eyes, her gaze boring into your soul.
"You're never leaving us," she says, her voice hypnotic. "We'll lock you up. Keep you in this room. Use you every day until you're dry."
The thought should terrify you, but instead, it sends a jolt of dark ecstasy through your body. You grab her ass, pulling her down harder onto you.
"Do it," you growl, your voice unrecognizable. "Breed me. Use me."
"That's it," Dayeon smiles, a twisted, beautiful smile. "Break for me."
She starts riding you faster, harder. The other two girls crawl over, licking and biting at your nipples, your neck, your ears. It's sensory overload. The heat, the smell, the sound of flesh slapping against flesh, the feeling of three bodies writhing against you.
"Cum inside her," Karina whispers in your ear. "Fill her cunt up."
"Do it," Anna licks your other ear. "Knock her up."
The pressure in your balls is critical. You can't hold back any longer. You roar, thrusting up into Dayeon one last time, burying yourself to the hilt.
"Fuck!" you bellow as your cock explodes.
Dayeon screams as she feels the hot spurts of cum flooding her insides. Her pussy spasms around you, milking you for every drop. You cum harder than you ever have in your life, your body shaking violently, your vision going white.
You keep cumming, pulse after pulse, filling her up until it leaks out around your shaft, dripping down your balls.
"Take it all," Dayeon gasps, her body going limp as she collapses onto your chest.
You lay there, panting, your heart hammering against your ribs like a trapped bird. You're covered in sweat, scratches, and bite marks. Your body aches everywhere. But as the fog clears, you realize the horror isn't over.
Karina is already crawling between your legs, licking the excess cum off your softening cock. Anna is kissing Dayeon's neck, her hand moving down to play with Dayeon's cum-filled pussy.
"Round two," Karina looks up at you, her eyes wild. "You didn't think we were done, did you?"
She licks her lips, smiling. "We have all night. And you're going to breed us all until we can't walk."
The buzzing of your phone on the coffee table cuts through the heavy, panting silence of the room like a jagged knife. It’s a sharp, jarring sound, piercing the haze of sweat and sex that clings to the air. The screen lights up, casting a harsh blue glow across Karina’s naked, sweat-slicked back.
Joona.
The name hits you in the chest with the force of a physical blow. Panic, cold and sharp, spikes through your system, momentarily cutting through the fog of lust and exhaustion. You try to move, to reach for it, but your limbs feel like lead. Dayeon is still slumped against your chest, her breathing ragged, her pussy still pulsing around your softening cock, trapping you inside her heat.
"Ah, look at that," Karina purrs, her voice dripping with venom and amusement. She crawls over the floor, her movements sinuous and predatory, like a cat sizing up a wounded mouse. She grabs the phone before you can even twitch your fingers. "The little wifey is calling."
"Don't," you croak, your voice wrecked from screaming and moaning. "Karina, please. Don't answer it."
Anna laughs, a wet, throaty sound from somewhere near your legs. She’s sitting up, wiping a smear of cum from her chin, her eyes wide and manic. "Why not? It’s rude to ignore a call on your birthday, isn't it? Especially from your girlfriend."
"Please," you beg, but the protest is weak. Your body is betraying you again. Just hearing Joona’s name in this context—while your cock is buried deep inside Dayeon, while the smell of three different pussies saturates the room—sends a sick, twisted jolt of arousal through your gut.
Karina taps the screen, swiping the green icon with a flourish. She holds the phone up, her thumb hovering over the speaker icon. She looks at you, her eyes dark and cruel, and then she taps it.
"Hello?" Joona’s voice is small, tinny, and anxious. "Babe? Are you there? I’ve been trying to reach you. Why didn't you answer?"
Karina’s lips curl into a vicious smile. She locks eyes with you, savoring the terror on your face. "Hey, Joona," she says, her voice sugary sweet, laced with poison. "He’s a little… tied up right now."
"Karina?" Joona’s confusion is evident. "What… what are you doing there? Is everything okay? Put him on the phone."
"He can't really talk right now," Karina drawls, shifting her weight. She glances down at Dayeon, who is starting to stir. "He’s busy. Very, very busy."
"Busy?" Joona’s voice rises in pitch. "It’s his birthday! We had plans—"
"Plans changed," Karina snaps, the sweetness vanishing instantly. "And frankly, he doesn't want to see you anymore. He’s realized where he actually belongs."
You open your mouth to deny it, to scream at Joona to run, but the words die in your throat. Because Dayeon is moving again. She lifts her hips slowly, letting your cock slide out of her with a wet, filthy squelch. You’re covered in her cum, in yours, the mixture frothy and white on your shaft.
"Time for round two, baby," Anna whispers, her breath hot against your balls.
Anna ducks her head, her long hair tickling your thighs, and presses her lips against the sensitive head of your cock. She kisses it, soft and reverent, before her tongue darts out to lap at the mixture of fluids coating you. The sensation is electric. You groan, your hips bucking involuntarily.
"Who is that?" Joona demands, her voice shrill now. "What is going on? Let me talk to him!"
"Shh," Karina hushes the phone, her eyes never leaving your face. "Listen."
Dayeon doesn’t give you a moment to recover. She plants her hands on your chest, her nails digging in hard, and slams herself back down on your cock. She takes you to the hilt in one brutal stroke.
"Fuck!" you gasp, your back arching off the floor. She’s tighter than before, squeezing you like a vice, her walls rippling and massaging your length.
Dayeon throws her head back, her sweat-dampened hair sticking to her flushed cheeks. She starts to ride you, hard and fast. "Yes," she hisses, her voice loud and clear in the sudden silence of the room. "It’s still so big. Stretching me out."
"He's… he's…" Joona stammers on the other end of the line. "What is that noise? What was that sound?"
Karina giggles, a dark, delighted sound. She turns the phone around, angling the camera so it points directly at the spectacle on the floor. Dayeon is bouncing on you now, her tits jiggling wildly with every thrust, her ass cheeks clapping against your thighs. Anna is still down there, her tongue working frantically over your balls and the base of your shaft wherever she can reach.
"Just a second, Joona," Karina says, her voice thick with sadistic pleasure. "I think you need to see this. I think you need to see what your 'boyfriend' is doing right now."
She taps the screen again. "Video call. Accept."
There’s a pause, a second of terrified silence, and then the connection clicks. You can't see Joona’s face, but you know she’s seeing you. She’s seeing your sweaty, heaving body, pinned to the floor. She’s seeing Dayeon, your childhood friend who you rescued from bullies, riding your cock like a woman possessed. She’s seeing Anna, your neighbor, licking your balls like they’re her favorite treat.
"Happy birthday, babe," Karina whispers into the microphone, holding the phone steady like a director filming a masterpiece. "Look at him. Look at the mess he's making."
"He's a bull, isn't he?" Karina continues, her voice loud enough for everyone to hear, echoing in the small room. "And as you can see, Joona, he is breeding the three of us tonight."
"No," you whimper, your face burning with humiliation. But your body is on fire. The shame is washing over you, mixing with the overwhelming pleasure of Dayeon’s pussy, turning into a dark, narcotic heat that clouds your mind.
"Look at his face," Anna laughs, pulling away from your balls for a second to look up at the camera. "He loves it. He's fucking loving it."
"Is that… is that Dayeon?" Joona’s voice cracks. "And Anna? What… what are you doing?"
"We're taking what's ours," Dayeon moans, never stopping her rhythm. She looks down at you, her eyes glazed over with lust. "Tell her, baby. Tell her how good it feels."
"It feels… so good," you choke out, the words torn from your throat. You hate yourself for saying it, but the feeling is undeniable. Her pussy is gripping you, milking you, dragging the pleasure out of you with every stroke. "Fuck, Dayeon, it feels so good."
"You liar!" Joona screams through the phone. "How could you? You said you loved me!"
"We love him more," Karina barks back. "We've always loved him more. We just waited until he was ready to be a man. And now? Now he's our personal stud."
Dayeon picks up the pace, her thighs burning against your sides. The sound of skin slapping against skin is obscene, wet and loud, filling the room. Smack, smack, smack. The visual must be devastating—Dayeon’s slender body impaled on you, her head thrown back in ecstasy, your cock disappearing inside her over and over again.
"He's filling me up, Joona," Dayeon taunts the phone, her voice breathy and high. "He's so deep. He's gonna put a baby in me."
"That's disgusting!" Joona cries. "I'm calling the police! I'm—"
"Go ahead," Karina sneers. "But by the time they get here, we'll be round three. And I'll be the one carrying his next kid. He’s not going anywhere. He’s exactly where he belongs."
She tosses the phone onto the couch, keeping the call connected, the audio still broadcasting. Joona’s sobbing is just background noise now, a pathetic soundtrack to the debauchery taking place on your living room floor.
"Fuck her," Karina growls, turning her attention back to you. She straddles your face, facing Dayeon, her knees on either side of your head. "Forget about her. You don't need that skinny little bitch. You have us."
You are suffocating in pussy again. Karina’s heavy thighs clamp around your head, her wet cunt pressing down onto your mouth. The smell is intoxicating—musk, sweat, and pure sex. You stick your tongue out, licking her folds frantically, driven by a hunger you didn't know you possessed.
"That's it," Karina moans, grinding down on your face. "Eat me. Make me cum on your face."
"Share," Anna demands, crawling up to join them. She grabs Karina’s tits, squeezing them hard, and pulls her in for a bruising kiss. They are making out above you, their tongues tangling, while Dayeon continues to mercilessly ride your cock.
The sensory overload is breaking you. You can't see anything but Karina’s ass and pussy in front of your eyes. You can't feel anything but Dayeon’s tight, squeezing heat around your dick and Anna’s hands roaming over your chest and stomach. You can't hear anything but the wet sounds of sex, the girls' moans, and the distant crying of your ex-girlfriend on the phone.
"He's getting close," Dayeon pants, her rhythm becoming erratic. "I can feel him throbbing. He's gonna cum again."
"Not yet," Anna gasps, breaking the kiss with Karina. "I want it. I want him to cum in my mouth."
"He cums inside me first," Dayeon snarls, slamming down hard. "I’m not getting off until he floods my womb."
"Greedy bitch," Karina laughs, grinding her clit against your nose. "Let him decide."
They don't let you decide, of course. They just use you.
Dayeon’s pussy clamps down like a trap. The pressure is immense, her muscles rippling along your shaft in waves. You scream into Karina’s pussy as your second orgasm builds, violent and unstoppable.
"Do it!" Dayeon shrieks. "Breed me! Knock me up, you bastard!"
"Fuck!" You roar, your body arching, your toes curling.
You explode inside her. It’s even more intense than the first time. Your cock jerks and pulses, spurting thick ropes of cum deep into her cunt. Dayeon screams, her body convulsing, her pussy milking you for every drop, sucking the seed right out of your balls.
"Yes! Yes! Fill me up!" she cries out, collapsing forward onto Karina’s shoulder.
Your vision whites out. Your ears are ringing. You are dimly aware of Joona’s wails cutting off abruptly—maybe she hung up, maybe she couldn't bear to listen anymore. It doesn't matter. Nothing matters except the feeling of releasing everything you have into Dayeon.
Karina climbs off your face, giving you a chance to gasp for air. You are drowning in sweat, your chest heaving.
"Look at that," Anna breathes, watching the cum leak out of Dayeon’s pussy, running down your shaft and pooling on your stomach. "So much fucking cum. He really is a bull."
Dayeon lifts herself off you slowly, her legs trembling. Your cock slips out of her with a wet pop, followed by a flood of white fluid. It’s a visceral, nasty sight—your combined juices dripping onto your skin.
"Clean him up," Karina commands, pointing at Anna.
Anna doesn't hesitate. She dives between your legs, her tongue lapping up the mess. She licks your cock clean, then moves lower, scooping the cum off your stomach with a hungry groan.
"Tastes so good," Anna mumbles, her mouth full. "Mix of all three of us."
"My turn," Karina says, her eyes wild. She looks at your semi-hard cock, which is already twitching, showing signs of life despite the exhaustion. "Don't think you're done, stud. I haven't been bred yet."
She pushes Anna aside and straddles your hips. Her pussy is red and swollen, dripping wet. She grabs your cock, stroking it roughly, forcing it back to full hardness.
"Please," you whimper, your voice barely a whisper. "I can't."
"You can and you will," Karina snarls. She lines you up and impales herself in one brutal drop. "You're going to fuck me until I pass out. And then you're going to fuck Anna again. We're not stopping until your balls are empty."
She starts riding you, harder and faster than the others. She’s relentless, a machine built for sex. Her ass slaps against your thighs with bruising force. She leans forward, biting your neck, your shoulders, leaving marks all over your skin.
"You belong to us," she growls in your ear. "Forget Joona. Forget everyone. You're just a toy for our cunts. A breeder. Say it."
"I'm… I'm a toy," you gasp, your mind fracturing under the relentless assault. "I'm your breeder."
"Good boy," she moans, her nails digging into your chest. "Now fuck me back. Give me that baby."
You reach up, grabbing her heavy tits, squeezing them hard. You hate yourself for it, but you thrust your hips up to meet her, driving your cock deeper into her body. The night has only just begun, and you know, with a terrifying certainty, that by the time the sun comes up, there will be nothing left of the man you used to be. There will only be this—a rutting beast, broken and bred, owned completely by the three women who used to be your best friends. And deep down, in the dark, twisted corners of your soul, you realize you wouldn't have it any other way.
12.4k words | smut, threesome, femdom, sub! reader, edging
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"Mr. Duplantier, please raise your head."
A heavy breath escaped your nostrils as you obeyed the order. You stared at the high ceiling. Thierry, your butler for as long as you could remember, and also your tailor, was adjusting the collar of your three-piece tuxedo, made of vicuña wool, silk, and you had no idea what the hell else. Frankly, you didn't care. You never had.
You were in the main foyer on the second floor of your family residence in Le Roucas-Blanc, standing on a small circular platform. In front of you, a large window opened onto the private terrace, overlooking the tranquil and beautiful Mediterranean Sea off the coast of Marseille. The sun was setting on the horizon, painting the sky in intense shades of red and orange.
"I really don't want to attend that gala, Thierry," you said quietly, clenching your fists nervously.
"I know you don't want to, but you have no other choice, sir," he replied. His voice was velvety and deep. "Your father is counting on you."
You sighed and lowered your head when Thierry allowed you to. The man, well into his seventies, with long, graying hair, took his time bending down and adjusting the hem of your trousers. It was understandable that his body wasn't in its prime anymore. Not like you remembered it ten years ago, when he used to chase you around the residence to scold you for your mischief. Back then you were happier, of course, because you didn't know what it truly meant to be the heir to such a vast fortune, nor all the pressure that rested on your shoulders.
"He's counting on me, but he doesn't care how I feel," you spat out, your gaze lost in the soothing sea.
“That’s nonsense, my young sir,” Thierry straightened with a grunt and draped the handkerchief he’d used to polish your shoes over his left shoulder. “Your father loves you. I know because I’ve known him for forty years.”
“What kind of love is it to force your son to attend silly galas and social events? He knows I’m a disaster.”
“They are your duties, sir,” Thierry remarked, now adjusting your sleeves. “Whether you like it or not. And you’re not a disaster. In fact, you’re a great man with a big heart.”
“That’s no good when you’re terrified in a large enough crowd,” you retorted. “Do you think an heir can be this awful at social events? What will the investors think of me?”
“You don’t need to be a social butterfly to be a good heir, Mr. Duplantier,” Thierry said, turning his back on you and taking a small trunk from the fold-out table he always used for occasions like this. “The stability of your family will be measured by how you perform behind your desk. You don’t need to be friends with anyone.”
“My father would say that’s ridiculous,” you replied absently.
Thierry opened the small trunk. From inside, he took out a watch: the rose-gold Patek Philippe Complications you wore for special occasions. After placing the trunk back on the table, he approached, took your wrist, and looked you in the eye. His gaze was paternal. Intimate.
“With all due respect, Arno, you take what your father says far too seriously,” he said, his voice so measured that it eased your tension. "His way of seeing the world is very different from yours, for his path was taken under completely different circumstances. You already have the path laid out for you, and your only task, my young sir, is not to stray from it, whatever method you use to walk it."
The old man's words pulled you from your reverie. You remained thoughtful for a second, your gaze lowered. The anxiety that gnawed at you didn't disappear immediately, but you were able to see things from a different perspective. One that, perhaps, would serve as a mantra to which you could take refuge during difficult times.
It didn't solve all your problems, but it was a start.
Thierry adjusted the watch on your right wrist and lowered the sleeve of your tuxedo. Unfortunately, you were now ready to leave.
"Your driver is waiting for you downstairs," the old man said, taking a step back. "Allow me to accompany you, sir."
You nodded.
“Yes, of course,” you stepped off the small circular platform, let Thierry take the lead, and followed him.
The Rolls Royce Cullinan that always took you places was waiting outside, parked on the street. It was supposed to be yours, but you’d never actually driven it. Thierry walked beside you and opened the rear door for you when you reached the curb.
“I wish you the best of luck, sir,” Thierry said. “Everything will go well today. You’ll see.”
Your old butler wasn't one to break with formalities often, so it was up to you to break that barrier a little now and then. On this occasion, you did so by giving him a hug. Thierry didn't reject it, but he was careful not to wrinkle your tuxedo too much.
"Thank you, Thierry," you said softly, holding him tightly in your arms. "I don't know what I'd do without you."
Thierry patted you on the back a couple of times.
"You're a strong lad. You would have managed."
After a few seconds, you stepped away from him, gave him one last appreciative nod, and got into the car. The driver started the engine seconds later.
By the time you arrived at your destination—about ten minutes later—it was already night in Marseille.
The car pulled up to the esplanade of the Palais du Pharo, built by Napoleon III in 1858. Outside, there were fewer journalists than you'd expected, but you noticed the place was packed inside. You weren't sure if so many people or such a large venue were really necessary to begin with, but wealthy people loved inviting other wealthy people, as well as their families. It was no wonder the crowd was so large.
Your driver got out and opened the door for you. After a deep breath, you stepped out of the car. Immediately, two men stood beside you: your bodyguards. You knew them both; these two in particular had been serving your family for three years. Mario on the left, Antoine on the right.
The sound of the Rolls Royce door closing behind you was drowned out by the flurry of camera shutters that erupted the moment you started walking. Thankfully, the press hadn't completely surrounded the esplanade. However, the few photographers keeping watch behind the barriers seemed to multiply with every passing second between flashes. You walked, feeling the lash of the Mistral breeze; a frigid, dry, salty air that stung your forehead and threatened to muss your hair.
It was downright torturous, but after suffering permanent damage to your damned retina from the flashes and turning down a few interviews—not you, really; Antoine was in charge of doing it for you—you reached the steps of the Palace. The enormous structure loomed ominously before you, like an imperial colossus made of limestone, bathed in amber light that highlighted its black mansard roofs.
You began to climb the steps, feeling the weight of the gazes of the newly arrived guests who turned, curious, to see how a bigger fish than themselves was making an appearance. It was no secret to you that you were rather unpopular with the elite. The only thing that reassured you, at least, was that the motives were purely superficial, since you had never actually done anything to anyone.
As you crossed the threshold, the port's chill gave way to a dense, dry air. The main hall stretched out beneath a black and white marble floor, a polished checkerboard pattern that reflected the gleam of the chandeliers on the ceiling. The walls, moreover, were paneled in dark oak halfway up, and the upper portion was upholstered in silk tapestries in pristine cream tones.
You ascended the interior stone staircase. Upon reaching the main floor, you entered the Salons Napoléoniens, a suite of interconnected rooms that formed the historic heart of the building, its walls adorned in white and gold. The wooden parquet floor led you to the Salon Eugénie, where the greatest number of important figures, and probably your father, would be found.
Of course, you weren't wrong.
Pascal Duplantier occupied the center of the long, rectangular room, beneath the main crystal chandelier, letting, as always, the flow of people orbit around him like his own personal asteroid belt. Behind him, through the immense arched windows, the lights of Fort Saint-Jean and the entrance to the Old Port were silhouetted against the black of the Mediterranean Sea.
Your heart raced for a split second. You tried to blend in and lose yourself among the guests, but he spotted you quickly. You stopped dead in your tracks. Your father's chin tensed slightly, then he bowed his head to his inner circle and walked toward you.
Standing just inches from you, Pascal placed a firm hand on your shoulder, almost a grip. One of the many ways he asserted his authority over you, forcing you to keep your shoulders straight.
"It’s good that you’re here, son," he said, giving your shoulder a light shake. "You look quite handsome. You’re wearing the..."
"The watch you gave me?" you cut him off. "Yes, of course."
A smile spread across his face from ear to ear.
"Splendid, because I have a couple of people I’d like to introduce you to."
Pascal stepped aside and gave you a gentle nudge to get you moving.
"But..."
Unwilling to accept any objections, your father steered you through the crowd until you reached one of the marble fireplaces at one end of the ballroom. A group of four people stood waiting in silence, observing your arrival with an uncomfortable and barely disguised scrutiny. You were forced to converse with them for a couple of agonizing minutes, but eventually—and once your father gave you leave—you managed to slip away.
The relief of escaping your father’s circle was immediate, yet you knew that your peace wouldn't last for very long. Sooner or later, someone was bound to approach you; it was always that way. And while it wasn't something that particularly bothered you, you preferred to speak with as few people as possible.
The gala was being held in this room as well as two others—one of which was larger and more centrally located. You headed there, toward the spacious bar that had been set up, politely greeting those who respectfully approached you. Some seemed eager to prolong the conversation, but you cut them all short with a wide array of excuses you had long since mastered.
"Just a sparkling water, please," you requested of the bartender, hands clasped behind your back, shoulders back, and posture straight. You might not have been the most eloquent of speakers, but you took pleasure in elegance and in maintaining proper etiquette.
It took the bartender just under a minute to hand you the small, wide glass. You cradled it between your fingers, letting the cold lower your pulse a little before taking a small sip. There were too many people there. They could pretend all they wanted that they weren't watching your every minuscule movement, but you weren't a fool; you knew when you were being judged.
And frankly, you didn't handle pressure very well.
You scanned the room with an eagle eye, searching for a place to slip away to.
There. All the windows facing the room's balcony were closed, save for one. Sparkling water in hand, you stepped away from the bar and made your way through the mass of guests. Of course, you didn't have to exert much effort, as people tended to part around you like a school of fish around a shark.
They let you out onto the balcony without any trouble. The change in the air was instantaneous, and the sea breeze blew once again, comforting against your face. You let out a deep exhale, took a sip of your water, and rested a hand on the balustrade, between two sculptures carved from the same limestone.
The beautiful garden stretching out before the palace and the cliff became the focus of your attention as you sank into your ruminations. Part of them revolved around Thierry’s words. The old butler was wise; you would never doubt that. But he couldn't truly understand how difficult it was for you to be there at that moment, wanting to jump off the balcony as if the building itself were on fire. It was frustrating, for you truly wished you could be better than that. An ideal heir, charismatic and...
Someone stepped out onto the balcony. You were no longer alone.
The sound of footsteps snapped you out of your reverie. Heels. Two pairs. Two women. You kept your gaze fixed on the horizon, relying on your peripheral vision to observe as two figures—clad in matching black dresses—settled at a moderate distance from you. You took a subtle step to the left, claiming that corner of the balustrade for yourself.
They began speaking in an Asian language. After listening for a few seconds, you realized it was Japanese. What on earth were two Japanese women doing in Marseille? Your father didn't have business partners on that side of the world—not that you knew of, anyway; just a couple of Chinese investors who hadn't even attended due to scheduling conflicts.
You didn't understand a single word, but the difference between the two of them was evident. One woman’s voice was colder, more reserved; she weighed every word carefully and relied on short, concise sentences. The other was far more expressive, faster-paced. It almost seemed as though she didn't process her thoughts before letting them tumble out of her mouth.
The reason you had come outside was to be alone; but if you weren't going to get that solitude anymore, what was the point of staying? You turned around—very slowly—and took...
The exchange between them ceased abruptly.
"Are you also going to escape from here, Arno?" one of them asked in perfect French, amused.
You stayed very still. Shit.
Not wanting to be rude, you slowly turned around until you were looking at them.
And for Christ's sake, they were both beautiful.
"Euh… excusez-moi?" you said.
The woman on the left, with skin as pale as a piece of white chalk, dark brown hair tied up in a ponytail and dressed in a tight black dress that hugged her toned figure with a blazer on, took a step forward, a subtle smile on her face,
"Excuse my friend, Monsieur Duplantier," she said, also in perfect French, her hands clasped on her belly. Her voice was deep, authoritative. "The fresh air makes her think out loud."
"It's okay," you said, and looked at them both. "Uhm... do I know you?"
"No, the truth is that you don’t have the honor," said the other woman, with her lower back leaning against the balustrade and a glass of wine in her hand. Her raven hair was long and shiny, with perfectly cut bangs and two strands of hair marking her round face on each side.
Her companion gave her a stern look, to which she responded by raising the glass to her lips to take a sip.
"Excuse her again," the pale woman insisted with a slight bow. "Allow me to introduce ourselves. I am Céliane Velyaro, director of procurement at Dumonra Holdings, and my assistant here is Noélie Tessara."
You frowned. Those weren’t exactly… Japanese names. In fact, they even sounded French. Who were these women?
"Ah… my pleasure," you nodded. "I'm Arno. Arno..."
"Duplantier," Noélie cut you off. "We know."
Dahyun glared at her again, but instead of scolding her, she sighed.
"Dumonra Holdings, you say?" you asked. You didn't really know what to do with your hands considering that you were holding a glass in one, so you chose to carry them behind your back, tapping the floor with the top of your foot, avoiding direct eye contact. "It... rings a bell."
"That's fantastic!" Céliane said, her voice a little more spirited, but just as restrained. "I am pleased to know that our influence is beginning to extend beyond Oros. You see..."
There it was. Oros. Of course they were not Japanese. Actually, they weren’t French either.
"Where was Oros again?" you asked, more to yourself than to them. "It was the… east coast of the United States, right? Near New York?"
"You are correct."
You nodded slowly. Oros was probably one of the most important cities in the world in recent years. Many things reached the ears of the European Union, some certainly disturbing. But until now the relationship between the city-state and the rest of the political-commercial landscape had been predominantly cold. For now, you feared.
"Uhm... well, I hope you enjoy the evening. Thank you for coming."
"We're interested in your family business, Arno," Noélie was quick to say as you were about to go back inside.
You stopped in your tracks once again and let out a sigh. Seriously, they didn't realize you just wanted to run away?
"Those matters are handled by my father," you said, exhausted. "I'm afraid I have no power over the business."
Céliane's lips curved into a smile... somewhat ominous.
"Not yet," she replied.
"Yes, and that means I have no power to discuss these matters with anyone. With your permission..."
"Don't you feel suffocated, Arno?" Noélie asked, and for the first time, she moved away from the balustrade and stood close to you. "With unbearable pressure on your shoulders?"
You were unaware of the customs of the people of Oros, but in the rest of the world, Noélie was undoubtedly invading your personal space. She was looking at you closely, with a pair of round eyes and extremely attractive, full lips parted. You couldn't help but take a quick and sneaky look at her more than generous bust.
"I-I..."
"Would you accept a drink for us in a more... private place, Monsieur Duplantier?" Céliane asked.
"I-I already told you that I have no power over my family's business."
“No need,” Noélie said, and drank the rest of her wine, staring at you. "Not for the initial phases, at least. But don't worry, our kind is quite... patient."
"Ah, of course... well, I would love to attend to you, but I have other pending matters. It will have to be for another..."
“Stop lying, please,” Céliane said, standing in front of you, hands clasped in front of her, her posture straight. "You have no business to attend to other than to keep running from corner to corner away from people. Instead, what I offer you is a private place where, instead of having to put up with hundreds of people, you will only have to put up with two. Don't you think that's a lot better?"
"Besides, you just have to listen to us," Noélie added. "I'd say it's in your best interest to do so."
You looked at them both briefly in the eyes. Damn, they were right: what better opportunity were you going to have to have a break, at least in the company of two strangers? Besides, it wasn't going to do you any harm to lend your ears for a little while, no more than what you suffered in there.
Right?
"Alright," you sighed. "But make it quick, please."
Céliane smiled without showing her teeth.
"Don't worry, we won't be a bother to your precious time, Monsieur," she assured.
"Not as long as you're cooperative," Noélie added, more quietly, her breath smelling of wine and... something else you couldn't make out, before standing alongside Céliane, who didn't seem to have heard her.
You just blinked, thinking you had heard wrong. Had she... had she threatened you?
"Follow us, please."
Céliane turned around and walked into the room, closely followed by Noélie and, five feet behind, by you.
As expected, a good number of glances turned to you and the women you followed. You could almost hear what they were whispering to each other. "That's not Monsieur Pascal's heir, following two attractive women going who knows where? In the middle of the gala? Scandalous! What will his father think of him?"
But of course, you didn't care about all that. If there was a clear motivation for you at the time it was to get away from public scrutiny, and your father was the least of your worries; he, in fact, would surely be proud, according to his twisted and perverted way of thinking regarding business. He would have gladly wanted to be in your position.
Céliane and Noélie guided you out of the salon, and subsequently out of the Salons Napoléoniens. You walked through the wide and extensive corridors of the palace, leaving behind some curious guests who turned to look at you when you passed by them, as if to say: "Wasn't that...?" Yes, yes you were. It was strange even for you and your usual behaviors, let alone for others.
You ended up going down to the second floor of the palace, by then less crowded. As you turned a corner, you watched with a frown as one of the doors ahead was guarded on either side by two armed men. But not armed with guns or rifles or batons, armed with...
"T-those are halberds?" you asked as the two women approached said door.
"Oh, yes. Made of an alloy of steel and tungsten carbide," Céliane responded with disinterest.
"But why...?"
The guards, both dressed in charcoal-colored, military-style, long-draped frock coats, with side zippers and open at the bottom to reveal a pair of tall black boots and silk pants, stepped aside as Céliane and Noélie stood in front of them. They were both tall, with broad shoulders. They wore dark iron helmets, with a spiked crest and outward-curving side fins. And their faces remained hidden behind ominous masks that obscured their eyes, making them look like two empty sockets.
"Customs of our nation, Monsieur Duplantier," Céliane said with her back to you, hands on the handles of the double doors. "Please don't dwell on it."
The pale woman opened the doors wide, entering a small living room with six sofas, five of them single, arranged around a glass coffee table, covered in silk damask fabric, decorated with fringe trimmings and with an elegant tufted finish. All this outlined on a wool rug, with a classic floral design in pastel tones.
Noélie passed Céliane and went to the right of the room, where a quiet fire crackled inside a fireplace, surmounted by a tall gold-framed mirror. The guards closed the door behind you. Céliane turned to look at you.
"Take a seat, Monsieur Duplantier," she invited you, gesturing to the couches. At that moment Noélie returned from the fireplace, with a bottle of wine in hand and three crystal glasses. She put everything on the glass table.
"Uhm… thank you," you nodded.
You walked around the largest sofa and took a seat. Céliane did the same, placing herself in one of the singles to your left. Noélie sat opposite. Being there was undoubtedly more peaceful than at the gala, but it didn't mean that you weren't nervous. The two women couldn't stop looking at you, almost predatorily. They wanted something from you. Something they knew you could give them.
"Tell me, Monsieur Duplantier," said Céliane, uncorking the bottle of wine. "How much actual knowledge do you have about your father's business?"
You blinked. You weren't expecting that question.
"Well… not as much as you think I have. That's for sure," you said, hesitantly accepting the glass of wine that Céliane offered you. "I know, as do you, that we have control of almost the entire port and that there are a considerable number of construction and logistics companies that depend on us."
You waited for a response, but received only silence. It was patently obvious that it wasn't enough. With a sigh, you took a small sip of your wine and shook your head. You had to weigh your words very carefully so as not to screw things up. It would be all too easy to do so, and the consequences were worse than you could even contemplate.
"I’m not exactly privy to the details, ladies," you said, despite being actually quite well-informed. "I learn only what I’m permitted to know; I am well-versed in economics and other fields, certainly. I simply know that we handle a great deal of money, and a great many people."
"Wow, put that way, it sounds almost pristine," Céliane remarked with a chuckle, pouring wine for herself and Noélie.
You tightened your grip slightly on your glass.
"E-excusez-moi?"
Céliane set down the wine bottle and elegantly crossed her legs in her seat, glass held aloft. Her eyes turned back to you.
"Are you claiming, then, Monsieur Arno, that you possess no precise knowledge regarding how that money is generated, moved, and spent?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "Hm?"
"N-no, I do not have access to that information," you replied, shaking your head.
With a gesture that was both utterly calm and calculated, Céliane raised her glass to her lips and drained the entire contents in a single gulp. Noélie followed suit.
"Your father is a corrupt man, Arno," Céliane spat out coldly, examining the glass in her hand. "Corrupt to the very core. A scourge. An apple that went rotten long ago and now sits festering in a pile of filth."
Your heart skipped a beat. You swallowed hard, feeling an unpleasant chill run down your spine. You could neither refute her words nor feign offense, for it was the absolute, unvarnished truth. Pascal Duplantier was not a good man—of that much, at least, you were certain, despite how much he kept hidden from you. Thierry was, of course, the source of your knowledge.
"I—I... have to go. Please excuse me."
You made a move to stand up, but in the blink of an eye, someone seized you by the wrist and held you seated with tremendous force. Horrified, you turned to your right to see Noélie sitting beside you, a calm smile on her face. How the hell had she gotten there so fast? Were you so nervous that you hadn't even noticed when she stood up?
"You don't have to lie to us, Arno," said Céliane, refilling her wine glass. "It is pointless for you to pretend to respect him."
Noélie, right up against your right side, leaned against you, your arm nestled between her large, round breasts as if by pure accident. You avoided her gaze at all costs.
"With us, you can stop pretending, Arno," she said, her voice honeyed and slightly husky. "We know that you aren't like him."
"You don't know me..." you muttered under your breath, trying to sound calm. You hadn't even attempted to stand up again, though you knew you wouldn't have been able to anyway.
"Oh, well, I wouldn't be so sure," Céliane replied, swirling the wine in her glass. "I think we know you all too well. You really don't want to know how well."
"For God's sake... what do you want? You're cops, aren't you? A-Are you going to hurt me...?" you asked, your voice trembling slightly.
Noélie let out a dry laugh.
"Don't be ridiculous, Arno," she said. "First of all, no. We aren't cops. And if we wanted to hurt you, you’d already be floating face-down off some deserted coast in Greece."
Céliane let out a sigh, set her glass down on the table, and leaned forward.
"Don't be foolish, Noélie; you're scaring him," the pale woman said in a low voice, though her eyes gleamed with undiminished intensity. "Listen, Arno. What we want is to offer you a way out. A way to ensure your prestigious family name is no longer sullied by Pascal's activities."
"I'm certain you aren't doing this out of charity. P-please, get to the point. And... can you let go of me, please? My wrist hurts."
Noélie released her grip. Your muscles ached slightly where she had held you. Just how strong was that woman? She remained close to you, however. Her breath warm against your neck. She had your nerves completely on edge.
"We want Trans-Marseille Solutions," Céliane finally stated. "It controls the docking rights and the heavy-cargo warehouses."
Céliane uncrossed her legs and crossed them the other way. The movement—perhaps intentionally on her part—afforded you a fleeting glimpse of her shapely thighs and what appeared to be a pair of wine-red lace panties. You blushed and averted your gaze.
"As you well know, that is the company your esteemed father uses for his dirty dealings," she continued. "If, for any reason, that structure collapses, it will drag Duplantier & Fils, and you, as an accomplice, down with it. In short, Monsieur Arno, we want that subsidiary to become an asset managed by Dumonra Holdings. We provide international legal cover and security, and you... well, you get the noose off your neck."
Noélie seized upon your silence to rest her hand on your shoulder, squeezing gently, a reminder that you remained trapped between her and the sofa.
"Think about it, Arno," she whispered. "All you have to do is give us the name of the front man running that company on your father's behalf. We can force Pascal into an early and safe retirement."
"S-so you’re acting like you know so much, yet you don't even know his name?" you asked, staring down at the rug.
Céliane let out a nasal laugh.
"We know who appears in the official records, Arno. We know that perfectly well," she said. "But at this level, the official name is usually just some poor wretch who was paid to sign on the dotted line. We want the name of the man who truly holds the power. The one your father visits in private." Céliane moistened her lips, letting her gaze drift down to yours for a fleeting moment. "All we need is a name."
Shit. What the hell had you gotten yourself into? You blamed it squarely on your damn inability to say no; had you done so, they wouldn't have dragged you off alone in the first place. Now you were neck-deep in shit.
"I—I... I'm n-not sure..." you began to say.
Noélie slid her hand down from your shoulder, tracing a torturously slow path across your chest until it came to rest just above your heart, which was pounding like a war drum.
"Don't be so suspicious, Arno," Noélie murmured close to your ear, her lips brushing against your lobe. "We wouldn't ask you for something so valuable if we weren't prepared to pay you back in kind."
With a completely deliberate motion, Noélie shifted subtly, pressing her side more firmly against yours. You felt the firm pressure of her thigh against yours as she leaned in. You pursed your lips and let out a deep exhale, making her smile at your reaction.
"Imagine," Noélie continued, her voice growing huskier and more sensual. "Waking up tomorrow knowing you are no longer an accomplice to a criminal who forces you to do his bidding. To be the clean, unblemished face of the Duplantier family. You would have autonomy, respect, and above all..." Noélie lowered her hand and placed it on your thigh. "Our most intimate gratitude."
Céliane rose to her feet with a terrifyingly slow deliberation and walked until she stood directly in front of you. She leaned forward, resting one hand on the back of the sofa, just above your head.
"Give us the name, Arno," Céliane commanded, her face mere inches from yours. "You will be generously rewarded."
"But..."
Noélie’s fingers began to slowly inch their way up the fabric of your trousers, seeking the outline of your cock, which was growing harder with every passing second. You let out a sharp gasp when she finally closed her hand around your bulge, with a firmness that made you arch your hips slightly.
"Come on, relax, Arno..." Noélie murmured. "You’re too tense."
Noélie unbuckled your belt with practiced ease. Then, with a couple of precise movements, she lowered your zipper and slid her hand inside your boxers to make direct contact with your erection. You shuddered; her skin was cold. Her fingers wrapped around your shaft and gave it a gentle squeeze.
"Mmm... you’re big," Noélie said. "That’s exactly why I love shy guys."
"The name, Monsieur Arno," Céliane insisted once more, as if you hadn't heard her the first time. She raised her other hand and caressed your cheek with a pointed fingernail. "Don’t you want us?"
Noélie gave you another squeeze and rubbed the palm of her hand up and down the length of your cock, reaching your balls as well. You were paralyzed, as if caught in an uncomfortable limbo. On one hand, you wanted to stand up and flee, to avoid, at all costs, putting your family's safety at risk. On the other, the voice of your conscience whispered in your ear that this was the right thing to do. That perhaps you—the Duplantiers—were better off without your father and his dirty dealings. It was a possibility that had been lurking in the back of your mind.
And on a third hand—a more immediate, carnal one—you really wanted these women to fuck you. It had been far too long, a couple of years, perhaps, since you’d been intimate with anyone. At this point, you were certain you wouldn't find a better opportunity to end your dry spell.
But of course, apparently that was entirely on you.
"Y-You guys are going to get me into a hell of a mess..." you wheezed, trying to clear your thoughts.
"Nonsense, nothing of the sort," Céliane assured you. "Our intelligence services are more than capable enough to ensure your stability from day one."
Noélie, oblivious to your conversation and perhaps a little impatient, tugged your trousers and boxers down to mid-thigh, thereby freeing your erect, throbbing cock. She wrapped her fingers around it and began stroking it up and down. Céliane herself moved her hand away from your face and down to your balls, caressing them with her fingernails.
"T-Thierry... my butler..." you began to say.
"The old man is more pristine than a newly opened public square," Céliane interjected. "He won't be affected."
That, at least, was a relief. But could you really be sure of it? You didn't know these women. They weren't even American, or European. They were Asian, but yet not quite. They hailed from a hermetic, technologically advanced city-state, one that had only recently begun to surface in the public consciousness. Could you really trust them?
Noélie and Céliane continued with their ministrations, so you opted for silence for the moment.
Your cock throbbed within Noélie's hand, which moved with a steady yet relentless rhythm—each stroke chipping away a little piece of your willpower. Céliane gave your balls a gentle squeeze, then spat into her hand and brought it up to your tip, rubbing her palm in circles around your glans while Noélie worked the shaft.
The moan that escaped your lips made them both smile. Noélie pressed herself against your arm, her round breasts brushing against you on either side. Céliane, meanwhile, propped one foot up on the sofa beside your hip, giving you another glimpse of her panties, which, only from this distance, did you realize were semi-transparent. Beneath them, you caught a glimpse of a pretty, hairless pussy.
Together, they redoubled their efforts. Both hands moved up and down your hard, slick cock with fluid, coordinated wrist movements. It was overwhelming. And to make matters worse, Noélie began letting out soft little moans right into your ear. Sweet, lovely, sensual moans.
You were close. Very close. You felt it at the base of your spine, in the rush of blood to your crotch. Both women noticed and quickened their wrist movements.
But just as you let out a hoarse gasp and rolled your eyes back, on the verge of exploding, they both stopped dead in their tracks. They withdrew their hands completely, leaving you with an unbearable emptiness. The desperation you felt was something you wouldn't wish on your worst enemy.
"Ah-ah..." Céliane chided, tilting her head with a cruel smile. "We haven't heard a name yet, petit Arno. You wouldn't want to stay like this, would you? I imagine it must be a... frustrating sensation."
Noélie licked her lips, reveling in the look of disarray on your face.
"Come on, I know you want to," Noélie purred, bringing her hand close again, though not quite touching you, merely grazing your skin with her fingertips.
"P-Please... please!" you begged.
"The name comes first," Céliane said sternly. You remained silent for several long seconds, prompting Céliane to take a step back. "Bah, it's no use. Let's go, Noélie; he's not going to..."
A sudden surge of alarm made you grab her wrist tightly and finally give in.
"Adrient Boyer!" you blurted out, your breathing ragged.
Great. You had officially become a snitch.
Céliane glanced down at your hand, which was still clamped around her wrist. You blushed and let go.
"Adrient Boyer, you say?" she asked. "And why should we believe you?"
"I—I swear it!" you nodded. "Adrient Boyer. My father always calls him before heading to the docks."
Céliane exchanged a glance with Noélie and offered a faint smile, apparently satisfied with the answer. She returned to her spot in front of you, this time resting a knee on the sofa right beside your left hip, forcing you to stare up close at her lace-clad crotch.
"Boyer... the accountant who supposedly retired two years ago," Céliane murmured. "Quite clever of Pascal, I must say."
Noélie, seeing that you had kept your end of the bargain, closed her hand around your cock once more. She cast all subtlety aside; now the friction was constant, frenetic. Her wrist moved with expert precision. You moaned instantly.
"Good boy, Arno," Noélie whispered close to your ear, using her thumb to rub your own precum around your glans. "We Dumonras always keep our promises."
Céliane didn't lag behind, bringing her hand back to your crotch as well. While Noélie tended to the shaft and the tip, Céliane wrapped her fingers around the base, squeezing firmly. Her other hand came into play, too; her fingernails toyed with your balls.
"Just so you know, this is only part of the payment for your honesty, petit Arno," Céliane murmured, her voice deepening. "But you have to earn the rest."
The two of them synchronized once again. Their hands rose and fell in unison. The sensation was chaotic and overwhelming, leaving you paralyzed with pleasure, your hips tensed against the sofa. Noélie buried her face in your neck, letting her hot breath wash over your skin as she moaned your name softly.
"Tell us something else, Arno," Céliane whispered, bringing her face dangerously close to yours, so close that your noses brushed. "Where does your father usually meet with Boyer? What place does he tend to frequent after his trips to the docks?"
The pleasure was so overwhelming that you had to mentally repeat the question to yourself several times. Location. You knew the location. You weren't entirely sure if Boyer attended regularly, but it was the place where your father usually went to meet up with his cronies. You would have been reluctant to share that information, but your brain was being so deliciously melted that it slipped past your mental filters effortlessly.
"C-Cassis!" you panted, your eyes squeezed shut. "A villa near Pointe des Lombards!"
Noélie picked up the pace, and Céliane began to rotate her hand with a technique that made you curl your toes inside your shoes and arch your back. This time, thank God, they didn't stop. You felt your climax drawing dangerously near: an uncontrollable torrent of fire surging up through your urethra.
"That's it..." Céliane smiled, watching with fascination as your body went rigid. "Let it all go, Arno. Be ours. Cum... cum for us."
"Cum, Arno," Noélie moaned into your ear in turn.
With a loud groan, you climaxed so violently that you were left breathless, profusely coating both women's hands, and your own abdomen, with the thick jets of semen spurting from the tip of your cock. Noélie let out a soft chuckle, feeling your intense throbbing against her hand, while Céliane wiped away a drop that had splashed onto her cheek with her finger. She glanced at it for a second, then brought her finger to her mouth.
You lay there panting, your heart racing a mile a minute. Noélie gave you a couple more gentle strokes, milking every last drop out of you.
Céliane leaned further over you, letting a lock of her hair brush against your forehead.
"Cassis. Good," she approved. "You’ve been very useful, petit Arno. But you could be even more so."
"Mmm, and I’ve barely even started having fun with you," Noélie panted.
Before you or Céliane could say another word, Noélie lay down on her side on the sofa, her torso resting across your thigh, and took you into her mouth, warm and wet, to clean up every drop of semen with slow, sensual sucks.
"Well, be grateful that my partner here is a bit of a..." Céliane raised an eyebrow at Noélie’s noisy slurps as she polished your cock with her tongue. "...slut."
Noélie lifted her head from your lap once she was finished, completing the task by giving your pubic area a long lick to gather the semen that had landed there as well.
"It’s not my fault that cum is just as delicious as a good dose of AB negative," Noélie said, wiping her lips with the back of her hand.
"Wait a second," you said, shaking your head, thinking you must have misheard. "AB... negative? Isn't that...?"
"Information, Monsieur Arno," Céliane cut you off quickly, shooting a withering glare at Noélie. "We need more information."
"B-but what else do you want from me?!" you asked, exasperated.
"I’m certain Boyer isn't the only one who frequents that place," Céliane leaned toward you, allowing her expensive perfume to fill your lungs. "In fact, I’m sure you’ve been there yourself, don't try to lie about it. So... who else have you seen there, petit Arno?"
You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of her gaze. You definitely weren't cut out for this shit. Maybe someone else would have been a tougher nut to crack, but not you.
"L-Lemaire..." you croaked out. "Jean-Pierre Lemaire. H-he's... a customs inspector, I think. Regional."
Céliane smiled slightly, satisfied, and took a step back to remove her blazer. She was left in her tight, sleeveless dress. Then she pulled down the top and rolled it up above her navel, revealing a lace bra the same color as her panties, with sheer straps. Next, she unzipped the side of the bottom. As she pulled it down, Céliane slid the rest of the dress down her legs, still wearing her strappy heels.
You were left breathless. Her body was, without fear of exaggeration, perfect: toned in all the right places and brimming with alluring curves. Toned sexy abs; wide hips; small waist, beautiful legs; and small yet round breasts.
"O-oh... wow," you murmured.
Noélie let out a soft giggle to your right and began to undress, first pulling down the top of her velvet dress. Her bra, also lace but black, barely contained her large, beautiful breasts. The bottom of the dress also fell to the floor, revealing panties that matched her bra.
Of course, Noélie wasn't far behind. Her legs were slightly thinner and larger than Céliane’s, less sculpted, but she carried a bit more flesh here and there, complete with a round, firm ass. Not that she really needed anything more, anyway; her breasts alone were enough to make your mouth water.
"Come on, touch me, Arno," Noélie encouraged you, kneeling down to your right with her hands resting on her own thighs. "You’ve earned it for being such a good boy."
You blinked.
"C-can I really...?"
"Don't make me say it twice."
Hesitantly, you raised a hand and closed it around her left breast, soft and yielding to the touch, squeezing it a couple of times until she let out a moan. Then, a few moments later, Noélie grasped the back of your head and buried your face deep in her cleavage. Instinctively, you began to kiss and lick every inch of her skin.
"Mmm, you like them, don't you?" Noélie asked, amused.
While she smothered you in her breasts, Céliane stepped closer and worked quickly on the upper half of your tuxedo—the very one Thierry had spent so long perfecting—until you were stripped naked from the waist up. Next, she turned her attention to your trousers, making you take off your shoes so she could slide them down and off your legs.
Being completely naked alongside those two women felt surreal, yet no less worthy of the hottest of fantasies. You were so aroused that your erection throbbed without anyone even touching it. You needed them like you needed damn air to breathe.
You felt Céliane move with a predatory elegance. She turned around, presenting her back to you, and slowly lowered herself onto your lap, sandwiching your shaft between her perfect buttocks. barely concealed beneath a layer of thin lace.
"You can touch me, too, petit Arno," Céliane purred, her voice low and heavy with lust, her hands resting on your knees as she began to move in a circular rhythm, rubbing your cock directly against her ass.
You brought your left hand straight to one of Céliane’s buttocks, sinking your fingers into her firm flesh with a tight squeeze that made her let out a low moan and intensify the friction against your cock. You panted against Noélie’s breasts, which were now thoroughly slicked with your saliva. If only she would...
"I see you're hungry, sweetheart," you heard Noélie say. "Let me help you."
As if the gates of heaven had opened just for you, Noélie reached a hand behind her back and unclasped her bra, letting it fall into her lap. Her pair of breasts, with slightly dark, enticing nipples, were left exposed mere centimeters from your face. You immediately took one into your mouth, licking and sucking with a desperate need you made no attempt to hide.
It was fucking paradise; you were sure of it. You felt so ecstatic that you almost forgot you had only met them that very night, and that they were coaxing information out of you to help dethrone your father, all in exchange for sex.
However, just as you were slipping into a trance-like state, and perhaps to put on the brakes for both of their sakes, Céliane paused and glanced back at you over her shoulder. Noélie, in turn, placed a finger against your forehead and pushed you away from her breasts with barely any effort. Seriously, why the hell was she so strong?
Frustrated, you turned to look at Céliane.
"More names, petit Arno," she urged you. "You don't actually think that's enough for us, do you?"
"Merde..." you growled, shaking your head. You closed your eyes, trying to remember. "Uhm... uh... William Loughty. H-he's... he’s the owner of the shipping fleet that ferries goods back and forth between Italy and Monaco... I saw him once, around Christmas."
"What exactly does he import from Italy...?" Céliane ventured.
"U-uh, well... raw materials for the refineries in..."
"Don't be ridiculous, Arno; we already know that," Céliane cut you off.
"But I really don't know anything else!"
"In that case..."
Céliane made a move to stand up, and Noélie to step away.
"No! Please!" you hastened to squeal. "Fuck!" You shook your head and lowered your gaze. "O-once, I heard them talking about... well... cocaine paste. At least forty tons from Palermo and Syracuse."
"And...?" Céliane raised an eyebrow.
"And my father approved those imports," you stated, the words tumbling from your mouth like broken glass. It was a bitter feeling. Maybe your father was a son of a bitch, but he was your own flesh and blood. It didn't feel entirely right. "I don't know anything else about it. I swear to God!"
Céliane chuckled softly.
"Calm down, calm down; you don't have to get so worked up, sweetie," Céliane soothed you. "I believe you. You're a good boy."
Your cock throbbed beneath her ass.
"P-please... stop calling me that."
"Huh?" Céliane raised both eyebrows. "What, that you're a good boy?"
You squeezed one of her buttocks tighter, then rested your hand on her slender waist.
"Our petit Arno likes being told he's a good boy, huh?" Noélie giggled. "Why shouldn't we call you that? It is what you are, after all." She placed a hand on your chest and rubbed it in circles, her lips brushing against your neck. "A cute, good, obedient boy."
"For the love of God, this shit isn't fair..." you whispered, your voice barely a thread.
"Good boys get what they deserve. Don't they, Noélie?"
"I certainly think so."
Noélie waited for Céliane to stand up, then gave you a shove, making you lie down lengthwise along the sofa, lifting your right leg onto the seat while leaving the other one dangling. Then, without a word, Céliane glanced back at you over her shoulder as she grasped the waistband of her panties and slowly slid them down to her ankles, making sure to bend her knees so that, from your vantage point below, you had a perfect view of her wet, pristine pussy mere inches from your face.
"You're going to eat me out real good... aren't you, sweetie?" Céliane asked, clenching her buttocks and spreading them wide to reveal her pussy lips and her asshole.
You nodded rapidly, desperate. Céliane stifled a smile by biting her lower lip; then, bracing one hand against the backrest of the sofa, and still standing, she slowly lowered her ass until she was sitting directly on your face, her pussy pressed tight against your mouth.
You moaned against her tender, moist flesh. Your vision was obscured by soft, milky skin. Not much air was getting through, but that was the least of your worries. You placed a hand on her thigh and summoned every ounce of your skill at giving oral sex to women.
Fortunately, you were rewarded just seconds later by a genuine, sensual moan from Céliane.
"That's it, baby," Céliane murmured, shifting the full weight of her lower body onto your face as you licked between her delicious folds and around her clit. "Such a good boy... fuck."
At the other end of the sofa, you felt Noélie shifting around on your legs. You couldn't tell what she was doing, not until you felt a pair of soft, full, and fluffy pillows envelop your cock from either side, pinning it firmly between them. Then, after spitting a copious amount of saliva into her cleavage, she began moving up and down, giving you a titjob that made you moan against Céliane’s pussy.
The sensory feast was overwhelming yet marvelous. On one hand, you had the metallic, sweet taste of Céliane on your tongue; on the other, you had Noélie moving relentlessly up and down, giving you no respite as your cock slid between those two soft mounds.
It wasn't long before Céliane began letting out hoarse moans, growing louder with every breath. She had switched hands to brace herself against the backrest, allowing her to grab your hair and give it little tugs to press you even harder—if that were even possible—against her ass. Her thighs were trembling, too. And after a few seconds of sucking, licking, and hungry kisses against her pussy, she let out a stifled cry and exploded all over your face.
"Mmmgh, fuck!" Céliane whimpered, drenching your mouth and nose with her delicious climax, her thighs still quivering. "My good boy really knows how to eat pussy!"
Noélie stopped her ministrations not long after, releasing your cock from between her breasts.
"My turn," Noélie panted.
Céliane stood up without a word and swapped places with Noélie. You didn't even have time to react before Noélie climbed onto the sofa, straddled your collarbone, and leaned in just a little closer to push her panties aside and bury her pussy, sporting a small patch of pubic hair. right against your mouth.
"Mmm!" she moaned as you diligently devoured her pussy in return. "Delicious... fuck."
Céliane took Noélie's spot between your legs, but instead of using her breasts, she wrapped her lips around your cock. The contrast between the two was stark: Noélie reveled in naughtier, more playful, almost frenetic, movements, while Céliane’s suction was deep and sensual, applied with a strength that kept you hard and feeling good, yet without rushing you too quickly toward a climax.
Noélie rubbed herself against your nose and lips, twisting her hips with every minuscule flick of your tongue against her folds. Fortunately, your view remained unobstructed; otherwise, you wouldn't have been able to admire her breasts from below as she squeezed them and toyed with her own nipples.
"You are really fuckin good, sweetie..." Noélie purred, gripping your head. "What's your blood type, by the way?"
Céliane hurriedly pulled away from your cock.
"Don't answer her," she said sharply. "Ignore her."
That was easy enough to do, as she immediately took you back into her mouth, and you were fully committed to continuing to devour Noélie.
After a few minutes of work, Noélie finally arched her back, grabbed you by the nape of the neck, and pressed you firmly against her pussy as she climaxed all over your face. Now you really were gasping for air, for the woman was thrashing violently, again and again, grinding herself against your face.
A few brief seconds later, Noélie climbed off you and lay back to your right, wedged between your body and the backrest of the sofa. Just then, Céliane pulled away from your cock, which she had left glistening with saliva. She looked you in the eye.
"You’ve been quite cooperative, Monsieur Arno," Céliane said, wiping the corner of her mouth with her thumb. "But we need the big fish. Those shipments require legal protection to cross the Mediterranean, someone to sign off on the sanitary inspection permits. Who is the rotten apple, sweetie?"
Noélie snuggled up against your right side, one of her breasts pressed flat against you, her thigh resting over yours. You took a deep breath and closed your eyes, unable to believe just how insatiable that woman was.
Although, you put your mind to work. Such power lies only in the hands of a politician. You knew politicians by the dozen. None by choice, it was worth noting. But which one of so many? Your father had good relations with almost the entire French political landscape. Ministers, prosecutors, and senators frequented that summer home; you could even swear that, once upon a time, the President himself had come close to dining with Pascal.
But who, out of all of them...?
Of course. How could you not know? You had greeted him that very night when you arrived at the Palace. His face was still fresh in your memory.
You looked at Céliane.
"If I give you the name..."
"We’re yours," Noélie said. "For the rest of the night. You can cum inside me... or inside Céliane. Or wherever you want. But there will be no more limits, petit Arno."
No limits. Fuck. What would those women do with you if there were no limits? The possibilities were thrilling. Promising. You craved it. Remorse faded into the background. In its place remained only your lust.
"Clement Chevalier," you murmured under your breath.
Céliane and Noélie exchanged glances. Apparently, they hadn't expected that.
"The Prime Minister?" Céliane asked. "Are you sure?"
"M-my father made me speak with him when I first arrived..." You swallowed hard, staring up at the ceiling. "They... were talking about—I don't remember what—regarding tourism in Southern Italy, and Chevalier mentioned Loughty's fleet of ships. But I don't know anything else. I slipped away without them noticing."
Céliane took a moment to process the information, then nodded, perhaps as the pieces clicked into place in her mind.
"The Prime Minister," she repeated. "Wow... I don't know why I'm surprised."
"Good job, Arno," Noélie said from your right, leaning in to plant soft, wet kisses on your cheek. "You know what this means... don't you?"
Noélie cupped your chin in her fingers, tilting your face to look at her. Your eyes met first, then drifted down to her lips.
"We're going to split you right down the damn middle, pretty boy," she murmured against your lips. "Tell me something: do you just like being a bottom?"
"Uhm..." You nodded. "I prefer it, y-yes... but I can take the top role if you ask me to."
Noélie giggled, grinning from ear to ear. She was... fuck, she was charming.
"You're such a sweetheart! Très mignon!, très mignon!"
You didn't even have time to blink before she pressed her lips against yours. You had expected roughness. A lack of finesse. But Noélie was surprisingly gentle with you.
Of course, as the seconds passed, the atmosphere heated up, and you began to devour each other’s mouths, a fiery exchange of saliva and heavy breathing.
"Tsk, eyes over here, petit Arno," you heard Céliane say. "You’re going to want to see this."
You broke the kiss with Noélie to look at her. Céliane rose and climbed onto your lap, straddling you. First, she removed her bra, tossing it over the back of the sofa. Her breasts were small and perky. Next, she lifted her hips, grasped your cock, and, looking you right in the eye, slowly impaled herself upon it.
Céliane pursed her lips and stifled a moan, her eyes squeezed shut. Your cock pushed its way inside her walls, slowly, but surely. It was a delicious sensation: overwhelmingly tight, yet wonderfully warm. When she had taken you all the way to the hilt, you both moaned once more. You placed a hand on her waist and gave it a firm squeeze.
Céliane opened her eyes and looked at you.
"Look at me, petit Arno," she commanded in a low voice.
And so you did. Your gaze roamed over every inch of her perfect body, and...
"No, in the eyes," Céliane said, lifting your chin with a finger. Inevitably, your eyes met hers. "That’s better. Look at me while I show you a good time, my little obedient boy."
Céliane began to move atop your cock with such grace, such sensuality, that you couldn't help but reach out and caress her abdomen with your fingertips, almost as if you were worshipping such a woman. Making eye contact, which was damn hard to maintain, made you blush, as was only natural given those piercing eyes.
"Hey, why don't you give me a little touch?" Noélie asked, still pressed tight against your side, right into your ear. "Remember, tonight I'm all yours, treasure."
Not entirely sure what to do, you slipped your right arm behind Noélie's shoulders and reached down to give her ass a squeeze; then, you pushed her panties aside and rubbed your fingers against her pussy. Noélie moaned in satisfaction, bit her lip, and buried her face in your neck, showering it with kisses.
"Mmm... you like that, don't you?" Céliane, finding a rhythm with her hips, placed a hand on your stomach and slowly slid it upward until her fingers were close to your lips. She nudged two fingers inside your mouth, and you sucked on them both with a low moan. "Oh yeah, good boy."
Céliane pulled her fingers out of your mouth and leaned forward; just inches from your face, she moved in to give your lips a slow, upward lick with her agile tongue. You didn't mind in the slightest that her saliva was left glistening on your chin. Then, Céliane finally kissed you.
"Hey, I want that too, don't leave me out!" Noélie said.
Noélie joined the kiss as best she could. You and Céliane welcomed her in. Now the three of you were sharing saliva in a wild, sloppy battle of lips. Acting on pure instinct and letting yourself get swept up in the moment, you gave a firm squeeze to the ass of both Noélie and Céliane, though you only slipped a finger inside the former's pussy, making her moan right there in the middle of the kiss.
Céliane was the first to break away, pulling back just to gaze into your eyes, utterly ecstatic with pleasure.
"Fuck, who would have thought that the best cock I’d have in months would be yours?" she moaned, bouncing her ass against your shaft, her fingernails digging into your shoulders. "I didn't have high hopes for you."
"Uh... thanks?"
"You're welcome."
Céliane straightened up and planted her feet on the sofa on either side of your waist. With her hands resting on your abdomen, she began performing strong, deep squats onto your cock, moaning over and over until she climaxed. Her ass slammed against your pelvis one last time, and she threw her head back.
"Ohhh fuck!" Céliane shrieked, cumming all over your cock. Her knees dropped back down onto the sofa, and now she ground her hips back and forth, with you so deeply impaled inside that tight pussy that the tip of your cock was brushing against her cervix.
The intensity with which Céliane gripped you from the inside bordered on painful, but that only made you enjoy it more. Made you moan even louder.
Moments later, Céliane pulled away from atop you, and Noélie hurried to join her, both of them now kneeling between your legs. Noélie took your cock between her lips, swallowing it halfway down her throat. She sucked greedily for several long seconds, cleaning Céliane’s fluids off your shaft and replacing them with her own saliva. Céliane pitched in by kissing every spot Noélie couldn't reach, including your balls, which she sucked on gently.
After a few seconds, they both released your cock to look at you.
"We’d better move to the floor," said Céliane.
Both women got off the sofa and, working together, effortlessly moved the coffee table to one side of the room, near the fireplace that was still crackling and providing a pleasant warmth. Then, with the area between the sofas cleared, they knelt right in the center of the rug.
"Come here, pretty boy," purred Noélie.
You hurriedly stood up and positioned yourself right in front of them. Céliane was the first to take you into her mouth, once again showing off her talents, until she yielded her turn to Noélie. The two of them worked on your cock for a few delicious seconds, but they stopped when they noticed you tensing up too much.
"Hey, you know you’re not allowed to cum until we say so, right?" said Céliane, gripping your scrotum from the top, like a bag of oranges. "Don't get too excited."
"Uh... y-yeah, yeah," you nodded, not the least bit inclined to contradict her. "I won't."
"Really?" Céliane raised an eyebrow.
Before you could answer, Céliane squeezed your balls tighter. Noélie had a firm grip on the shaft. You moaned.
"I promise," you said in a strained whisper.
Noélie let out a soft giggle.
"Gooooooood boy."
With that, it was Noélie who resumed sucking you off, first swirling her tongue around your glans before taking you deep into her throat, where she held you for several long seconds before she began to pump her head. Céliane did the same. But nothing about it was quite as hot as watching them meet right at the tip of your cock, their tongues intertwining with each other with your member right in the middle.
You couldn't do anything but moan like a total slut.
"Mmm... well?" Noélie looked at you, rapidly rubbing your saliva-drenched cock. "How do you want me, sweetie?"
"On top of me."
Noélie bit her lower lip.
"Only if you fuck me afterward."
"H-how...?"
"Any way you want. Missionary, doggy style, standing up and bent over, one leg lifted, spooning..."
"I get it," you cut in. "Deal."
Noélie pounced on you the moment you lay down on the rug, lacking any of the elegance Céliane might have possessed, but making up for it with a predatory agility and energy that kept your pulse racing. She straddled you, while Céliane positioned herself behind your head and had you rest back against her lap.
Having finally shed her panties, Noélie lifted her hips and grasped your cock, slowly impaling herself upon it. You watched, panting, as her face contorted with pleasure while her hot, silky walls swallowed your length with delicious ease.
Once you were buried hilt-deep, Natty placed a hand on your abdomen and looked down at you with a seductive smile, beginning to move her hips up and down in a sensual rhythm.
"Does this warm little pussy feel good, sweetie?" she asked, slowly sliding her hand upward from your abdomen. You thought she was going to make you suck her fingers, just like Céliane had, but instead, she closed her fingers around your throat and squeezed, just enough to let only the bare minimum of air pass through. "Oops, too bad you can't answer anymore."
You moaned—or at least you tried to, though Noélie's grip on your throat remained firm. Céliane, for her part, grabbed your wrists and pinned them to the floor beside her calves, restricting your ability to touch Noélie’s voluptuous body as she bounced faster and faster atop you, her hypnotic breasts, the size of two perfect melons, jiggling lasciviously.
"Mmm, my good boy likes this, doesn't he?" Noélie asked, showing no signs of loosening her grip.
"He loves it, just look at his face," Céliane remarked, never taking her eyes off your flushed, contorted features. "What if...?"
Céliane tilted her head, studied you for a couple of seconds, and let loose a thick glob of spit directly onto your face, staining your lips, your chin, and the tip of your nose. You bucked your hips. Your cock throbbed deep inside Noélie, who let out a moan.
"Fuck! He loves that, too," Noélie moaned, now bouncing wildly on top of you. "Give him a slap!"
A quick, sharp slap landed on the right side of your face. You looked up to meet a sly, mischievous smile on Céliane’s face; she didn't hesitate to deliver another one to the opposite cheek. Once again, Noélie squealed with pleasure as you throbbed inside her.
"What a kinky little guy, fuck, I love it!" Noélie moaned. For a moment, she opened her eyes to look at her partner. "Can I keep him? Maybe..."
"No," Céliane said immediately, sharply. "We’d have to speak with Mr. Leumara, and..."
Céliane fell silent, realizing she was treading on ground that a puppet like you had no business knowing about. You weren't about to press the matter, and frankly, it wasn't as if you could have, anyway.
"God, you guys are so boring sometimes!" Noélie protested. "As if it would do him any harm to turn into a..."
"Noélie, enough!"
Noélie grinned from ear to ear, visibly aroused and amused in equal measure. Soon, her face twisted with pleasure once again.
"Fuuuuuck... I'm going to cum so hard!"
Those final words, followed by a lascivious shriek, gave way to Noélie's unbridled climax. The voluptuous woman writhed atop you, grinding against your cock amidst tremors, her pubic hair brushing against your skin with every forward thrust. She tightened her grip on your neck, and your air supply was suddenly cut off. You endured it gladly until, at last, she let you go.
Noélie half-opened her eyes, pupils dilated with lust, to look at you. Her mouth hung slightly open, panting.
"Your turn, petit Arno," Noélie purred, sliding off you.
Céliane released her grip on your wrists, allowing you to kneel behind Noélie as the latter settled onto her hands and knees spread wide, ass thrust high for you, and the side of her face pressed against the floor. Without a word, you grabbed your fluid-soaked cock and thrust back inside her.
You weren't averse to taking a dominant role, though it usually wasn't your first choice. Being the dominant one was, quite simply, something you were indifferent to. If the situation called for it, then you stepped up.
And this moment, certainly, demanded it. To have refused would have been sacrilege.
So there you were, gripping Noélie’s wide hips with both hands, delivering strong, deep thrusts into her warm pussy, her breasts bouncing beneath her, her ass jiggling with every impact. You panted heavily, doing everything in your power to maintain the rhythm and make her feel good.
Céliane stood up and positioned herself to your right; as if to balance the dynamic, she grabbed a handful of your hair and buried your face in her pussy.
Magnifique. Now you were really communicating.
The small room filled with the sound of both women’s moans, mingling with the relentless rhythm of your body slamming against Noélie’s. Céliane gave you no respite; she kept your face pressed firmly against her crotch, her fingers deeply entangled in your hair, her fingernails digging into your scalp, yet you devoured her without a single complaint.
"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" Noélie moaned between thrusts. "The bastard actually knows how to use that cock! How am I not supposed to fall in love?"
"I worry about your definition of 'falling in love,' woman," you heard Céliane say amidst her own moans.
"Nonsense! I’m in love with my petit Arno and his wonderful, magical cock!"
The next few minutes passed in the blink of an eye. Noélie had another orgasm, one you felt particularly proud of. Céliane followed suit. One of them came all over your cock, leaving it dripping wet. The other one bathed your mouth and tongue with her delicious fluids as her climax washed over her.
Céliane then gave you a shove backward, making you lie flat on your back. She took her place atop you, turned her back to you, and planted her feet firmly on the floor to take you back inside her. She began to squat over your cock, her back perfectly arched in a display of unexpected flexibility, with her hands resting on your calves.
"I know what you're thinking..." she said, glancing back at you over her shoulder as she drove every inch of your shaft in and out with every squat. Noélie watched from just inches away, catching her breath. "My ass is perfect; I know. I also know you're dying to cum inside me while watching it. But I already told you: you’re not going to cum until I say so. You know that, right?"
"I—I know..." you murmured, almost breathless, as she stole the air right out of your lungs every time her ass slammed against your pelvis.
Céliane smiled.
"That’s a good boy."
Just when you thought she couldn't surprise you any further, she leaned back, grasped the nape of your neck, turned her head to meet yours, and kissed you with fierce intensity, right before she began pumping her hips furiously up and down. Beyond her flexibility, that woman possessed absurd lower-body strength; she showed not even a hint of fatigue, even after two intense, non-stop minutes of action.
Feeling yourself nearing the edge, you moaned right into the kiss. But that was a damn mistake, for she stopped immediately. You writhed wildly beneath her, but she simply held you fast, reveling in the desperation etched across your face.
"Beg me," was all she said.
You frowned.
"H-huh?"
"You heard me."
Céliane climbed off you and knelt at your right. She grabbed your cock and started jerking you off, her hand sliding frictionlessly along your slick shaft. You were close. Painfully close. But you squeezed your eyes shut and thought about literally any random nonsense just to hold it back.
"God... oh God!" you panted, your voice barely a whisper. "Please!"
"That’s not enough."
A nimble, mischievous mouth joined in. You opened your eyes to find Noélie sucking your balls while Céliane kept jerking you off with a killer grip and a deadly flick of her wrist. It felt so good, it felt like your brain was going to explode.
"You have to use the right words, petit Arno," Céliane said.
"T-the right words?!" you asked. "What the hell are the right words?!"
"I thought I made my command quite clear."
"Ugh, merde, merde!" you cried out, holding back the eruption like a son of a bitch. "I’m begging you, dammit! Please! I want to cum!!"
Céliane clicked her tongue.
"One word is missing."
"Dammit!!" you shouted, your voice hoarse. "I’m begging you, mommy. Let me cum! I need it so bad!"
"Yes! Cum then, my sweet boy!" Céliane moaned.
"Mmmghhh!!"
You arched your back and squeezed your eyes shut, focusing on the tidal wave of sensations washing over you. Only then did you feel the tip of your cock being engulfed by something warm. You opened your eyes just in time to see Céliane still jerking you off, but now with Noélie positioned right over you, your entire glans buried deep inside her pussy.
"Fill me, mon chou," Noélie moaned. "Fill me!!"
You came so hard that your vision went black for a split second.
The orgasm hit you, shattered you, swallowed you whole, and spat you back out. Your entire body trembled as you throbbed around Céliane's hand and filled Noélie's pussy from the inside with a massive surge of thick cum. However, since you weren't fully buried inside her, a good portion of your load oozed down the sides of your shaft, staining Céliane's hand in the process.
"So warm..." Noélie panted, giving Céliane a little shove to push her aside so she could impale herself completely on your cock. "You know what? I think a little scolding from Mr. Leumara will be worth it."
For the first time that night, you saw Céliane’s composure finally crack, her eyes going wide with shock.
"Noélie, NO!"
Before you could even register what was happening, Noélie, with you still buried balls-deep inside her and throbbing, lunged forward and sank two sharp fangs into your neck.
You screamed at the top of your lungs. But that floor was deserted, save for the two foreign guards.
Behind the spotlight, beneath the composure, there is a shadow self—one that aches, desires, and remembers what it is to be utterly, beautifully unraveled. This is a story about the space between the person the world sees and the one who exists in the quiet dark, and the single, secret night that blurred the line between them forever.
* * *
The charcoal pre-dawn had softened to a pale, liquid gold by the time Julian’s knuckles met the sleek black lacquer of the dormitory door. Two soft, firm raps echoed in the hushed hallway.
The door was pulled inward almost immediately—as if she had been waiting on the other side, her hand hovering over the handle.
Karina stood in the doorway.
But this was not the Karina of morning workouts and composed leadership. She was freshly showered, her dark hair pushed back from her face in soft, damp waves, clinging to her temples. A robe of pale ivory silk, tied loosely with a simple sash, was her only covering. The lapels had slipped open, revealing the elegant, sharp architecture of her collarbones and the deep, shadowed valley between her breasts. The robe ended at mid-thigh, and the long, bare expanse of her legs—still glistening faintly with traces of moisturizer—was entirely exposed. Beneath the thin silk, it was unmistakably, tantalizingly clear, she wore nothing at all.
Her dark eyes, when they found his, blazed with a hunger restrained for three long days. No calm. No mask. Only raw, undiluted need.
She did not speak. She simply reached out, her hand closing around his wrist, her grip cool and insistent. She pulled him inside with a firm, wordless tug.
The door clicked shut behind them, sealing them in the silent, dove-grey living room.
She dragged him across the polished floor, past the pristine sectional, her bare feet silent, the silk of her robe whispering against her skin with each urgent stride.
“Hello to you too,” Julian murmured, low amusement laced with surprise. “No kiss? No ‘good morning, Doctor’? I’m beginning to feel like a piece of luggage being hauled through an airport.”
Karina did not slow. Her voice, thrown over her bare shoulder, was a hushed, breathless command. “Less talking. More following.”
Her bedroom door—the imposing one at the hall’s end—was pushed open. She pulled him inside.
The lock engaged with a definitive, echoing click that seemed to reverberate in the quiet, perfumed air of her sanctuary. The room spoke of elegant authority: a large bed with a dark, tufted velvet headboard, a walk-in closet revealing a meticulous army of designer garments, a sleek vanity. The scent was jasmine and something warmer, muskier—her signature, mingled with clean, soapy freshness.
The moment the lock slid home, Karina spun.
Her hands flattened against his chest and she shoved him back against the cool, solid wall beside the door. The force knocked a surprised breath from his lungs.
Before he could recover, she was on him.
Her mouth found his in a kiss that was not soft, not tender, but ravenous—a consuming, desperate, starving assault of lips and tongue and teeth. It was the kiss of a woman who had denied herself a feast and could finally devour. Her body pressed against his, the thin ivory silk the only barrier. He felt the scorching, feverish heat of her skin radiating through it. Her bare thighs brushed his trousers. Her breasts flattened against his chest, her nipples hard and insistent peaks through the silk.
Between sloppy, breathless, open-mouthed kisses, a ragged, confessional stream of words emerged. “You have no idea… how hard I’ve been trying… to be good… to let them have their time… to not just drag you into my room every single morning and keep you there all day…”
She broke the kiss just long enough to grab his hand. Her fingers wrapped around his wrist, guiding it downward, slipping his palm beneath the loose lapel of her robe, pressing it directly against the scorching, slick heat of her bare sex.
The sensation was electric. She was utterly bare, freshly shaven, and absolutely drenched. His fingers were instantly coated in her arousal, the evidence of her three-day torment slick and warm against his skin.
Her voice was a ragged, trembling whisper against his lips. “Feel that. Feel how wet I am. That’s what you do to me. That’s what three days of waiting has done.”
She pulled back just enough to look at him, her dark eyes wild, lips swollen and glistening. Her breath came in hot, uneven pants. “But yesterday morning… when I saw Winter… on her knees… your cock in her mouth… and her hand between her own legs…” A violent, full-body shudder ran through her. “I was dripping. Exactly like this. All day. I couldn’t wear underwear. Every pair would have been ruined. So I went commando. Through the meetings. Through rehearsals. Every time I sat down, every time I had to give an order and pretend I wasn’t thinking about this—about you—about finally having my turn.”
Her hands fisted in his shirt, knuckles white. “I can’t wait anymore, Oppa. I need you. Now.”
She pushed off the wall, dragging him backward toward the bed. The back of his calves hit the mattress and she shoved him down onto the dark duvet, sending him sprawling.
Before he could prop himself up, she was climbing onto the bed, straddling his thighs, her bare legs bracketing his hips. The ivory robe, already loose, slipped from her shoulders, the sash coming undone. The lapels fell open, revealing the full, breathtaking expanse of her body—her heavy, glorious breasts with their dark, peaked nipples; the narrow taper of her waist; the smooth plane of her stomach; and lower, the newly waxed skin of her sex, glistening.
She shrugged the robe off completely, letting it pool behind her like a shed skin. Utterly bare. Utterly magnificent. Utterly in command.
Her hands flew to his buttons, working them with frantic, expert efficiency. Each pop of a button parted fabric, revealing his chest. Her palms slid over his pectorals, down his abdomen, nails leaving faint, possessive red trails. His belt rasped open. His button popped. His zipper hissed down. Her hand reached into his boxer briefs, withdrawing his cock—already achingly, fully hard, skin flushed a deep, urgent red, a bead of pre-cum glistening at the tip.
A low, hungry, almost feral sound escaped her throat. “I’ve been dreaming about this. Every night. Every morning. Every minute I had to sit next to you at breakfast and pretend I wasn’t thinking about exactly this.”
She slid down his body, settling between his thighs with fluid, predatory grace. Her dark eyes looked up at him through her lashes with pure, predatory ownership. No submission. Only hunger.
Without preamble, she lowered her mouth and took him inside.
Her technique was devastating. Her lips created a perfect, tight seal. Her tongue swirled around the sensitive corona, tracing the frenulum with a feather-light touch before pressing hard. She bobbed her head with a deep, hypnotic rhythm, taking him deeper with each descent, her throat relaxing with practiced, eager ease.
The wet, obscene sounds filled the room—the schlick of her lips, the soft, rhythmic gagging as she took him to the root, the satisfied, vibrating hums that traveled from her throat straight to his core. One hand cradled his balls, applying gentle, kneading pressure. The other wrapped around his shaft, moving in tandem with her mouth.
Julian’s head fell back. His hands tangled in her damp hair, fingers tightening. A guttural, broken groan was torn from his chest. She was devastating him, and she knew it.
“Karina… wait…” His voice was ragged, strained, a desperate thread. “Karina…”
She stilled, her mouth still full of him. Her eyes flickered up, curious, impatient. The head of his cock rested on her tongue as she sucked it gently, absently, her cheeks hollowing with each slow, rhythmic pull.
His hand tightened in her hair, a gentle but insistent grip. “I want to taste you too.”
She released him with a soft, wet pop, a glistening strand of saliva connecting her lip to his tip. She shook her head, brow furrowing slightly. “You don’t need to. Making you come is enough for me. It’s always enough. This—” she gestured at his cock, “—is what I need.”
“I do.” His voice was quiet, but absolute. A statement of intent. “I want to taste you. I’ve been thinking about it. All week. Every time you walked away to let someone else have their turn.” He paused, his dark eyes holding hers. “I have an idea. Trust me.”
Before she could protest, he moved. His hands found her hips, grip firm and decisive. In one smooth, strategic maneuver, he shifted their positions, rolling them until he lay flat on his back and she was positioned above him—her thighs straddling his face, her glistening, swollen sex descending toward his waiting mouth.
She now faced his cock, still rigid and glistening.
His hands gripped her thighs, fingers dimpling the smooth, toned flesh. He pulled her down, bringing her pussy to his face. The scent of her arousal—musky, sweet, profoundly intimate—filled his senses. She was completely bare, folds flushed a deep, needy pink and absolutely drenched. A thin, glistening strand of her wetness trailed slowly down her inner thigh.
“Julian… you really don’t have to—”
He didn’t let her finish. His tongue extended, delivering a long, flat, devastating lick from the very base of her entrance to the swollen peak of her clit. The taste of her—salt and sweet and pure, unmistakable Karina—exploded across his senses. A low, approving groan vibrated from his chest directly into her flesh.
An involuntary, raw, shattered moan was torn from her throat. The volume of it alarmed her. Remembering her members sleeping just down the hall, to stifle herself, she lowered her mouth back to his cock, taking him deep in one desperate, plunging motion, her nose pressing against him, her throat constricting around him in a spasm of swallowed sound.
What followed was not tender, mutual lovemaking. It was a competition. A race.
Julian’s tongue worked her with relentless, focused intensity. He lapped at her entrance, drinking her in, before zeroing in on her swollen, hypersensitive clit. He sucked the aching bud into his mouth, his tongue flicking rapidly, alternating between deep, pulsing suction and rapid, fluttering licks. His fingers joined—two thick digits sliding inside her clutching, velvet heat, curling upward to press against that rough, spongy spot deep within.
Karina countered with every weapon in her arsenal. She deep-throated him with a brutal, punishing rhythm, her throat constricting around his shaft. Her hand pumped his base in a tight, twisting motion. Her other hand cradled his balls, her thumb pressing against his perineum with firm, circular pressure.
The room filled with the lewd, wet, desperate sounds of their mutual devotion. They were both hurtling toward the edge, each trying to push the other over first.
In the end, it was simultaneous. A devastating, perfectly synchronized detonation.
Julian’s orgasm was triggered by the sudden, convulsive tightening of her throat as her own climax began. His release erupted—thick, hot, pulsing jets flooding her mouth. She swallowed convulsively, greedily, her throat working in rhythmic gulps.
At the same moment, her own orgasm seized her with tidal force. A raw, shattered, muffled cry was swallowed by the flesh filling her mouth. Her body shuddered violently above him, her inner walls clamping down on his fingers in frantic, milking pulses. A hot, gushing flood of her release coated his tongue, his chin, slicking his hand.
They rode out the waves together, bodies trembling in perfect unison, a single, intertwined symphony of mutual ruin.
For a long moment, there was only the sound of their ragged, gasping breaths and the pounding of their hearts.
Slowly, gently, they disentangled. Karina rolled off him, collapsing onto the bed beside him, her chest heaving, her dark hair a wild cascade across her pillow. The scent of sex and jasmine was thick in the air.
They simply breathed, staring at the ceiling, bodies humming with aftershocks.
Finally, Julian turned his head to look at her. A faint, deeply satisfied smirk touched his lips. “I think that was a tie.”
Karina laughed—a breathless, genuine, utterly sated sound. “I let you win.”
“Of course you did.”
They rose, moving to her en-suite bathroom. The cleanup was intimate, domestic—him wiping her chin with a warm, damp cloth, her fixing his disheveled hair with gentle, teasing fingers. They moved around each other in the compact space with ease, passing a towel, sharing the mirror, their reflections soft and satisfied.
Julian left the bathroom first, settling on the edge of her bed to wait while she dressed. He rebuttoned his shirt, retied his tie, the composed mask of Doctor Kang reassembling piece by piece.
Twenty minutes later, the bathroom door opened.
Karina stepped out, a vision.
She wore a soft pastel pink mini dress. The delicate fabric hugged her curves with a gentle, second-skin precision. Thin spaghetti straps rested on the elegant, sculpted slopes of her shoulders. The dress was covered in a textured 3D rose appliqué pattern—dozens of tiny, meticulously crafted blossoms that seemed to bloom across her body, catching the light and casting soft, petal-like shadows with every movement. The hem was daringly short, ending high on her thighs and accentuating the endless, toned length of her legs. Elegant black strappy high heels added inches to her height, transforming her posture into something commanding, statuesque, utterly regal. Her makeup was flawless: a subtle smoky eye, a nude, glossy lip. Her dark hair fell in soft, luxuriant waves around her shoulders.
She stopped before him, one hand resting on her hip. She did a slow, playful twirl, the dress flaring slightly, the 3D roses catching the light.
“How do I look?” Her voice was confident, but beneath it flickered a genuine, almost girlish anticipation.
Julian’s gaze swept over her—the elegant, bare shoulders, the delicate, blooming roses, the impossible legs. His voice was warm, genuine, filled with quiet admiration. “Glamorous. Stunning. Absolutely breathtaking.” He paused, tilting his head with a curious smile. “What’s the occasion?”
Karina’s smile widened, becoming something secret and thrilled and deeply meaningful. “Today is a special day.” She offered no further explanation, just a mysterious, knowing gleam in her dark eyes.
She turned and walked out, her heels clicking with confident, purposeful rhythm. Julian followed, intrigued and utterly captivated.
* * *
In the dining area, the cozy scent of fresh coffee, toasted bread, and cinnamon filled the air. Morning sun streamed through the tall windows. The other three members were already seated.
Giselle noticed them first. Her sharp eyes performed a lightning scan, and a low, appreciative wolf whistle escaped her lips. “Damn, unnie! Who died and made you an actual supermodel? You look incredible.”
Winter looked up from her tea, her analytical gaze sweeping over Karina’s outfit. She nodded slowly, appreciatively. “You look very… fancy. Extremely elegant. Do you have a solo schedule today? A photoshoot? A magazine interview?”
Karina glided to the table with regal grace, pouring herself a cup of black coffee. A sly, teasing smile played on her glossy lips. “A slight schedule change happened last night. I have a fitting this afternoon. With the Prada team.”
Ningning’s brow furrowed, a piece of toast paused halfway to her mouth. “Prada? For what? A comeback stage? A music video?”
Karina paused deliberately, drawing out the suspense. Her dark eyes sparkled with excitement. “For a special occasion. In the United States. Next year.”
Silence descended on the table. Confusion flickered across Giselle’s features. Winter’s head tilted, her mind racing.
Then, Ningning’s eyes flew wide open. Her teacup clattered against its saucer. Understanding flooded her face. She jumped up, her chair nearly toppling. A delighted, high-pitched squeal of pure joy escaped her as she launched herself across the room, engulfing Karina in a fierce, ecstatic hug.
“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!” Ningning bounced on her heels, still clutching Karina. “Is it—did you—did they—”
Giselle stared, her coffee mug frozen halfway to her lips. “Okay, what the hell is going on? Ningning never squeals. Not even when we won Daesang. Care to share?”
Karina and Ningning talked over each other, a jumbled, excited cascade. Winter watched with dawning, delighted comprehension.
Ningning pulled back, hands gripping Karina’s shoulders, eyes shining. “Did you get the call? Did they finally confirm it?”
Karina nodded, her smile so wide it crinkled the corners of her eyes. “Yes. The Prada team called last night. It’s official. I’m going to the Met Gala next year.”
The table erupted into joyful chaos.
Giselle and Winter rose simultaneously, chairs scraping back, faces breaking into thrilled, unjealous pride. They surged forward, engulfing Karina in a massive, four-woman group bear hug. There was squealing, breathless, overlapping laughter, words of congratulation tumbling over each other.
Ningning, the fashion enthusiast, clutched Karina’s hands, her eyes shimmering with joy and playful envy. “I’m so happy for you, unnie! But also… a tiny bit jealous. It’s the *Met Gala*! Do you know the theme? What are you going to wear?”
Karina laughed warmly, smoothing a strand of Ningning’s hair. “Not yet. The fitting today will give me clues. I’ll tell you everything.”
Ningning groaned dramatically, her expression an exaggerated pout. “Ugh, I’m still a little jealous. In the best way. But… seriously. The Met Gala.”
A knowing, mischievous glint entered Karina’s eyes. She leaned in closer, her voice a conspiratorial, teasing whisper. “Don’t be. I did a little digging last night. A certain very, very big brand—extremely prestigious—is in talks with SM about an ambassador deal. For a certain very talented maknae. The deal includes Met Gala appearance plans.”
Ningning’s jaw dropped. Her eyes widened into enormous, shimmering saucers. Her hands flew to her mouth. “WHAT? Which brand? Unnie, you have to tell me! Right now!”
Karina shook her head slowly, her smile infuriatingly serene. “It’s not finalized. It’s supposed to be a surprise. A big, official announcement. So you’ll have to be patient.”
The rest of breakfast was consumed by Ningning’s relentless, adorable campaign to extract the brand name. She deployed every weapon—the trembling lower lip, the wide puppy eyes, the clasped, pleading hands, the whispered pleas. Karina, immunized after years of exposure, deflected each attempt with amused, unshakeable ease.
“Is it Dior?”
“No.”
“Gucci?”
“I’m not saying.”
“Chanel? Louis Vuitton? Versace? Come on, unnie, just give me one hint. Just the first letter—”
“Ningning. Eat your toast.”
Amid the chaos and celebration, no one questioned Julian’s presence. No one asked why he emerged from the hallway with Karina. He was simply there. A part of the team.
Karina caught his eye across the table. A small, knowing, private smirk was exchanged—a silent acknowledgment between two people who shared secrets.
Winter watched Karina with quiet, contemplative warmth, her white gold bracelet catching the light as she lifted her teacup. She knew the weight Karina carried. She knew what this moment meant.
Ningning still pouted, her chin on her folded hands, her voice a tiny, hopeful squeak. “Is it… Prada too? Are we doing a group thing?”
“It’s not Prada.”
“So it IS a different brand! That narrows it down! Unnie, you slipped up!”
“I told you nothing.”
The morning sun was now full and brilliant, streaming through the tall windows and bathing the table in golden light. The five of them—four idols on the cusp of triumph, futures glittering, and one doctor woven into the fabric of their lives—shared breakfast as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
Their secrets, their healing, their hungers, and their soaring hopes were all hidden safely beneath the mundane, blessed surface of cinnamon toast and morning chatter about the most prestigious red carpet in the world.
* * *
The morning sun, sharp and accusing, cut through the soundproofed vocal studio. The air hummed with the concentrated energy of four voices weaving through intricate scales, a complex tapestry of sound under the vocal coach’s exacting direction. Karina’s alto was the anchor, a deep, steady river running beneath the brighter currents of the others—commanding, unwavering.
The harmony shattered with two soft knocks.
A junior assistant hovered at the door, tablet clutched to her chest like a shield, bowing apologetically. “Jimin-ssi, there’s a follow-up meeting for yesterday’s A&R session. They’re requesting your presence immediately. They said it was urgent.”
A micro-flash of irritation—a tightening at the corner of her eye, a minuscule stall of breath—crossed Karina’s face. It was there and gone, expertly smothered beneath a veneer of professional neutrality. “Of course. I’ll be right there.”
Julian rose from his corner chair, his notebook closing with a soft, definitive snap. “I’ll accompany you.”
She merely nodded, a silent acknowledgment. But in the brief glance she threw his way, he saw it: a flicker of relief, a silent gratitude for the presence of an ally. It was veiled instantly, but he had caught it. He always did.
The walk to the conference room was silent. Her heels, those elegant black straps, clicked a measured, martial rhythm on the polished floor, a sound that seemed to say I am in control, I am in control, I am in control.
The same sleek, glass-walled room. The same view of Seoul’s relentless skyline. A different atmosphere entirely. The A&R team was assembled, their collective posture radiating a tense, rehearsed somberness. The senior executive, Mr. Park, offered a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. The creative director, a man named Lee with perpetually furrowed brows, cleared his throat.
“We’ve been discussing the concept overnight,” Lee began, pulling up new slides on the vast screen. Images of their dark, cyberpunk-inspired mood boards were replaced with brighter, more generic scenes—pastel hues, smiling models, abstract shapes. “The board feels the direction needs a… recalibration. The original vision is potent, but perhaps too niche. Too introspective. The international market data suggests a preference for something brighter. More optimistic. More… accessible.”
Karina did not move. Her spine remained ramrod straight, hands folded calmly on the obsidian table. Her expression was one of attentive, polite interest. A perfect mask.
But Julian, watching from his seat slightly behind her, saw the truth. The slight, almost imperceptible stiffening of the tendons in her neck. The way her thumbs pressed minutely together, a self-anchoring pressure. She was alone in this room. Her members, her sisters, were not here to flank her, to offer their unique perspectives, to share the weight of this betrayal. She was the sole defender of Aespa’s artistic core.
“I understand the board’s concerns,” she said, her voice a model of measured calm. It was a beautiful instrument, capable of fierce rapping or soothing melody, and now it was deployed with diplomatic precision. “However, the original concept was discussed and approved unanimously weeks ago and we've finalized the concept yesterday. The members have already begun internalizing it—choreography, vocal textures, even their mindset is aligning with that world. A pivot now, at this stage, would cost us irreplaceable time before the comeback deadline. It would also create significant dissonance and frustration within the creative teams who have already invested in the original vision.”
Mr. Park leaned forward, steepling his fingers. “Budget projections for the darker concept are… concerning. The set design, the CGI, the custom styling—it’s a premium price tag for a riskier narrative. The data from our North American and European partners indicates a stronger ROI for aspirational, upward-trending visuals.”
And so it began. A meticulous, grueling dissection. Budget concerns. Market analytics. Risk assessments. Demographic studies. Karina met each point not with emotion, but with superior logic. She negotiated, she compromised where she could afford to, she held the line with steely grace on the elements that defined their group’s identity. She was magnificent. A masterclass in intellectual and emotional jiu-jitsu.
But the cost was etched in subtle, heartbreaking detail. The incremental tightening of her shoulders beneath the delicate straps of her pink rose dress. The gradual cooling of her voice, losing its warmth degree by degree until it was pure, polished crystal. The way her eyes, in a fleeting moment when a particularly asinine point about “global relatability” was made, darted to Julian’s. In that nanosecond, he saw it: a profound, bone-deep exhaustion, a loneliness so vast it threatened to swallow her. It was gone before anyone else could register it, hidden behind a blink.
The meeting stretched. One hour. Then two. The morning bled away into a soulless afternoon. She fought for every inch, and by the end, had salvaged the soul of their concept, conceding only on peripheral aesthetics. It was a tactical victory. A pyrrhic one.
When the final, hollow pleasantries were exchanged, she rose, bowed, her smile serene and unshaken. The mask was flawless.
But in the quiet, empty corridor, the moment the glass door sighed shut behind them, she exhaled. It was a long, slow, controlled release of breath that seemed to drain the very light from the air around her. She leaned, just for a second, against the cool wall, her head dipping forward.
“You handled that well,” Julian said, his voice low, meant only for the space between them. “They ambushed you. It was unfair.”
She pushed off the wall, resuming her walk, her gaze fixed on some distant point down the hall. “It’s part of the job. It’s what I do.”
“It cost you,” he observed, the clinician in him noting the residual tension in her gait, the slight clench of her jaw. “You’re carrying the tension physically. Your trapezius is engaged, your breathing is shallow.”
She paused, her step faltering for a single, unguarded moment. Then she continued. “I’m fine. I just need… a few minutes. To not think about market saturation and boardroom second-guessing.”
They approached the cafeteria doors. The familiar, comforting cacophony of mealtime—clattering trays, overlapping conversations, bursts of genuine laughter—filtered through. Karina stopped. She squared her shoulders, a small, deliberate motion. She lifted her chin, took a deep breath that expanded the rose-covered bodice of her dress, and smoothed her features. It was a conscious, painstaking reconstruction. The exhaustion was folded, tucked away into a hidden interior pocket. When she turned to push the door open, she was Karina the leader again: composed, unshakeable, a calm port in any storm.
Only Julian knew the storm that had just passed.
* * *
The other three were already at their usual table, a vibrant island in the sea of company staff. Ningning waved with her whole arm, face bright. “Unnie! Over here! We saved the best seat!”
Karina slid into her place at the head of the table, the pink dress settling around her like a sigh. The mask was perfect. She looked relaxed, amused, entirely present. Only Julian, taking the seat beside her, could sense the faint, tremulous hum of spent energy beneath the serene surface.
Giselle didn’t wait for her to pick up her chopsticks. “Okay, brain has been fully Met Gala-ified. Can’t think about chord progressions, only about red carpet logistics. Who decides who you walk with? Can you request, like, a specific artistic genius to be your plus-one? Because if so, the answer is obviously Zendaya. It’s a non-negotiable. For culture.”
Winter nodded, cradling her teacup. “The seating chart is a geopolitical map. Prada will have strategists working on it. Placement near other brand ambassadors, away from rivals, near influential editors… it’s a calculated dance.”
Ningning bounced, her chick anklet jingling. “The after-parties are where the real fashion happens! You need a second look. Maybe a third! One for the carpet, one for the dinner, one for the after-party! A fourth for the hotel lobby paparazzi! It’s a marathon, unnie, not a sprint.”
The conversation flowed, a joyful, silly, passionate stream of fashion trivia and glamorous speculation. Karina contributed, her laughter bright and unforced, her opinions sharp and knowledgeable. For these precious minutes, the weight of the morning seemed to lift, dissipated by the warm, golden light of their shared excitement.
The topic shifted, meandering toward the evolution of menswear. Julian, observing a lull, offered a quiet comment. “The shift from Hedi Slimane’s razor-cut androgyny at Dior Homme to the decadent, rock-and-roll romanticism he introduced at Saint Laurent was less a change in style and more a masterclass in reframing cultural desire through silhouette. He didn’t follow trends; he defined the archetype for a generation.”
A profound silence fell over the table.
Four heads turned in unison. Four pairs of eyes fixed on him with expressions of pure, unadulterated shock.
Giselle’s eyebrows disappeared into her bangs. A slow, wicked, delighted grin spread across her face. “Wait. Full stop. The doctor. The man of science and stoic observation. Knows about Hedi Slimane’s oeuvre? Can use the word ‘silhouette’ in a non-medical context?”
Julian shrugged, a faint, sheepish smile touching his lips. “Cultural history is relevant to understanding environmental pressures. I read.”
“Read,” Giselle echoed, leaning forward, elbows on the table, eyes glittering with mischief. “Julian. Oppa. My guy. If I didn’t know better—and let me be clear, I have my very accurate suspicions—I’d say that was a distinctly… curated bit of knowledge.”
Ningning dissolved into silent, hiccupping giggles. Winter’s lips twitched, her shoulders shaking with suppressed amusement. Karina watched him over the rim of her coffee cup, one elegant eyebrow arched, a small, private, deeply knowing smile playing on her lips—a smile that spoke of shared secrets in hotel rooms.
Julian met Giselle’s gaze with unruffled calm. “An appreciation for constructed form and sociological impact isn’t gendered, Giselle. It’s called having an eye.”
“Uh-huh. An eye. Sure.” Giselle winked, a slow, theatrical, devastating gesture. “Keep telling yourself that, Doc. I see you.”
The tension of the morning was finally, completely, shattered by the wave of shared, rib-aching laughter that erupted, drawing bewildered but smiling glances from every corner of the cafeteria.
* * *
Karina sat in the passenger seat, her head resting against the cool window. The city blurred past, a stream of glass and steel under the amber afternoon sun. The mask was gone here, in the quiet capsule of his car. The leader’s armor lay discarded, revealing the weary woman beneath.
“You shouldn’t have to fight those battles alone,” Julian said, his voice steady against the hum of the engine. “You have a team. Brilliant, capable women who believe in that vision as much as you do.”
Her eyes remained closed. “It’s my responsibility. I’m the leader. The buffer. That’s the choice I made.”
“Being the buffer doesn’t mean being the sole shock absorber. Giselle could eviscerate their creative arguments. Winter could out-logic their data. Ningning’s emotional intelligence is a weapon they wouldn’t know how to counter.”
“They’re healing,” she interrupted, her voice soft but firm. “Ningning is just finding her footing after being lonely for so long. Giselle is pouring everything into her music—I won’t poison that well with corporate politics. And Winter… yesterday was… transformative. I won’t add my burdens to theirs. Not when I can carry them.”
“And who carries yours?” he asked, the question hanging in the quiet car. “When you’re the one who needs the support?”
The silence was her answer. It had always been her answer.
“That’s what tonight is,” he said, his voice gentler. “Let me. Even if it’s just this. Being the wall you can lean against. So you don’t have to carry it alone.”
A long, vulnerable moment passed. The city swept by, indifferent. Then, almost imperceptibly, she nodded. “Okay.”
The hotel in Gangnam was a monument to discreet wealth. Their small convoy—Julian’s car followed by the manager’s van with the styling team—pulled into the porte-cochere. Karina emerged, the leader’s mask seamlessly reassembling. But before she closed the car door, her eyes found his. The gratitude was there, naked and real. Thank you for seeing me. Thank you for the wall.
* * *
The hotel suite was a sun-drenched atelier. Racks of clothing shrouded in protective gauze stood like silent sentinels. The air smelled of starched linen, fine wool, and ambition. Lorenzo of Prada was a symphony in charcoal wool and silver hair, his hands speaking as fluently as his rapid, melodic Italian.
Julian took his assigned seat in a plush armchair, a specter with a notebook. Karina, however, was transformed. The weariness burned away, replaced by a luminous, focused energy. This was her language. She discussed draping and bias cuts and the Met Gala’s theme with the confident erudition of a scholar, her hands sketching shapes in the air. This was Yu Jimin, separate from Aespa’s leader, a force in her own right.
After a spirited consultation, a gown was chosen for the first fitting. Lorenzo gestured to a screened-off area. “When you are ready, Miss Jimin.”
She disappeared behind the white curtains. The suite buzzed with quiet, professional energy. Julian waited. The sun slid across the marble floor.
The curtains parted.
Karina stepped out.
The breath left Julian’s lungs in a silent, involuntary rush.
She wore a gown of white satin, but it was satin reimagined—liquid, luminous, as if woven from captured moonlight. It was intentionally unfinished, a masterpiece awaiting its final sculptress. Delicate crystal beading scattered light like crushed diamonds across the bodice. The sight was breathtaking, but it was the fit—or deliberate lack thereof—that was devastating.
The thin straps slipped off the elegant slopes of her shoulders. The crystal-adorned bodice gaped loosely over the full, magnificent swell of her breasts, the fabric dipping perilously with each breath to reveal the shadowed, tantalizing curve of her side, a promise of revelation held by a thread. The glossy satin pooled and draped around her hips, a high slit parting to reveal a breathtaking length of toned, bare leg with every step. The back plunged scandalously low, a deep ‘V’ that exposed the elegant, architectural line of her spine down to the subtle, intimate dimples at its base.
She was utterly, professionally nonchalant, walking to the central tri-fold mirror to assess the drape. This was her workplace.
Lorenzo approached, pincushion strapped to his wrist. He circled her with a master’s eye. His touches were necessary, clinical, professional: a finger tapping a strap back into place, pinching excess fabric at her waist, marking a hem with chalk. He knelt to adjust the slit, his fingers brushing her bare thigh. He stood behind her to pin the gaping bodice, his face close to the exposed skin of her back.
It was all entirely, objectively professional.
And a hot, irrational, volcanic spike of jealousy erupted in Julian’s chest.
It was an alien sensation, unwelcome, unprofessional, illogical. Lorenzo’ orientation was evident in every gesture. This was his art, she his canvas. Yet, watching those hands—skilled, respectful, touching—on the bare skin of her back, her thigh, near the perilous edge of her bodice, sent a primitive, possessive snarl through Julian’s carefully ordered mind. His hands tightened on the arms of his chair, knuckles bleaching white. His jaw clenched. A silent, vehement glare fixed itself on the back of Lorenzo’s impeccably tailored suit.
Karina, turning slightly to observe the back drape in the mirror, caught his reflection.
Her dark eyes found his in the glass. She saw the tension in his frame, the set of his jaw, the intensity of his gaze. Understanding dawned, followed by a slow, deep, utterly feminine satisfaction. A small, private, victorious smile curved her glossy lips. She held his gaze in the mirror for a suspended second, then deliberately turned her attention back to Lorenzo, her posture relaxing minutely, as if basking in a newly discovered warmth.
The fitting concluded an hour later. Promises were made, bows exchanged. As the Prada team packed the precious gown, Julian’s tension had not abated; it had merely been redirected, condensed into a silent, simmering focus.
* * *
In the hallway, Karina turned toward the elevators that led down to the lobby. Julian’s hand touched her elbow, gently steering her in the opposite direction, toward a separate, more discreet bank of elevators.
She frowned. “Oppa, the exit is the other way. We need to get back.”
“I cleared your schedule,” he said, his voice calm, final. “The rest of the day is yours. No meetings. No rehearsals. Nothing.”
She stared, truly bewildered. “You… cleared it? How?”
“Schedule authority. Part of the Deal, remember?” A faint ghost of a smirk appeared. “Come on.”
He pressed the call button. The doors slid open with a hushed chime. After a moment’s hesitation, she followed him in. The elevator was a capsule of quiet, mirrored on all sides, their reflections multiplying into infinity.
“What is this?” she asked, her voice a mixture of curiosity and nascent alarm. An unscheduled block of time was foreign territory, a potential void.
“This,” Julian said, facing her as the elevator began its smooth ascent, “is an intervention. For the past week, you have been a caregiver. A leader. A protector. A giver. In every interaction with me, your focus has been singular: my pleasure. Your own has been an afterthought, if a thought at all.”
She opened her mouth to protest, the familiar script rising to her lips. “I like it that way. It’s what satisfies—”
“I know,” he interrupted, his voice gentle but allowing no argument. “I’m not pathologizing it. I’m not trying to change you. But for tonight, Karina, you are going to do nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“Nothing but receive.” His dark eyes held hers, unwavering. “No giving. No serving. No performance. No leadership. You will let someone take care of you. You agreed in the car. This is what that looks like. Trust me.”
She searched his face for a loophole, a weakness, a way to regain the familiar control. She found none. Only steadfast, patient determination. The fight drained from her shoulders, leaving a bewildered, vulnerable acceptance. “Okay. Fine. One evening. But I’m warning you, I’m not… good at this.”
“You don’t have to be good at it,” he said, as the elevator chimed their arrival. “You just have to be.”
The doors opened onto a hushed, carpeted hallway. He led her to a door, swiped a key card. The lock clicked.
“The Prada gown,” she said suddenly, pausing on the threshold, grasping for a neutral topic. “What did you think?”
“It was stunning. You will be the most beautiful woman there.” He paused, his voice softening. “But you were also the most yourself I’ve seen you all day. In your element. Not as Aespa’s leader. Just as Jimin.”
She absorbed this, a flicker of something genuine and unguarded in her eyes. “It feels like mine. Something just for me.”
“It is. And you deserve it.”
He pushed the door open, revealing a suite awash in the warm, golden light of the setting sun. Floor-to-ceiling windows framed a panoramic view of Seoul igniting into evening. It was serene, beautiful, and utterly private.
He stepped aside, gesturing for her to enter first. His voice was a quiet vow in the twilight.
“After you. Your evening starts now."
* * *
The heavy door, solid and silent, swung inward on perfectly balanced hinges. Karina crossed the threshold, and the world of Prada fittings, corporate negotiations, and leaderly responsibility fell away, replaced by a hushed, golden stillness.
The suite was a masterpiece of understated luxury. The entire far wall was glass, floor-to-ceiling, framing a panoramic postcard of Seoul at dusk. The Han River was a ribbon of molten copper far below, snaking between the glittering districts. The sky was a gradient of deep violet to burnt orange, the first bold stars pricking through the velvet above. The room itself was a symphony in neutral tones: soft dove-grey carpets so plush they swallowed sound, walls the color of warm cream, accents of brushed gold that caught the dying light. A low, modern sofa faced the view, and through an open archway, she could see the king-sized bed, made up with crisp, blindingly white linen. Beyond another door, a glimpse of marble—cool, veined, promising—hinted at the bathroom.
It was not just a room. It was an absence. An absence of schedules, of eyes, of expectations. The silence was profound, a physical presence after the day’s cacophony.
Julian followed her in, closing the door with a final, soft click that sealed them in. He didn’t give her time to overthink it. His hands came to rest on her shoulders, his touch firm and grounding through the delicate fabric of her dress. He turned her gently and guided her toward the open bedroom door.
“I’m preparing the bath,” he said, his voice low and calm in the quiet space. “Go to the bedroom. Remove your makeup. Take off your clothes. Put on a robe. Then come back.”
She looked up at him over her shoulder, a flicker of her old, teasing self sparking in her tired eyes. “Giving me orders, Dr. Lee? I thought I was the one in charge.”
His expression didn’t change. There was no smirk, no playfulness. Only a deep, unwavering certainty. “Not tonight.” The words were gentle, but absolute, leaving no room for debate. “Tonight, I’m in charge. Go.”
She held his gaze for a suspended moment, the leader in her instinctively testing the boundary. She found it was not a wall, but a shore—solid, immovable, meant to rest against, not break upon. Without another word, she turned and padded barefoot across the yielding carpet toward the bedroom.
* * *
The master bedroom was bathed in the room’s last, lingering amber light. A large, gilt-framed mirror stood opposite the bed. Karina approached it as if meeting a stranger.
Her fingers went to the delicate straps of the rose-pink Prada dress. The hooks released with tiny, definitive clicks. She shimmied the fabric down her body, letting it pool at her feet in a whisper of silk and embroidery. She bent, picked it up with a reverence it deserved, and laid it carefully over the back of a velvet-upholstered armchair. Her strappy black heels were next, unbuckled and set side-by-side beneath the chair, a soldier’s duty done.
On the vanity, she found a tray of amenities. She uncapped a bottle of micellar water, soaked a cotton pad, and began. With slow, methodical strokes, she erased the day. The smoky, precise eyeliner that made her gaze imperious. The layers of foundation and concealer that perfected her canvas. The dusty rose blush, the highlighter on her cheekbones. The glossy, curated tint on her lips. Each swipe of the pad was a peeling away of a layer of armor. Karina, the Idol. Karina, the Leader. Karina, the Brand.
What remained in the mirror was Yu Jimin. Her face was younger, paler, dotted with a few faint freckles across the bridge of her nose usually concealed. Her eyes seemed larger, darker, more vulnerable without their frame of kohl. A faint, natural pink touched her lips. She looked… ordinary. Beautiful, but real. Stripped. She stared at her reflection, her expression unreadable. She was not sure she liked this naked-faced girl. She seemed too soft for the world waiting outside.
With a slow breath, she reached for the thick, white terrycloth robe hanging on the back of the door. She slipped her arms into it, the fabric luxuriously heavy and soft. She wrapped it around herself, tying the sash loosely at her waist. The robe dwarfed her, making her look smaller, younger still.
One last look in the mirror. The woman who had negotiated with Prada and faced down a boardroom was gone. In her place was someone quiet, expectant, and deeply unsure. Squaring her shoulders beneath the plush fabric, she walked back to the bathroom.
* * *
She pushed the door open. The room was filled with a warm, damp haze, smelling of lavender and something clean, like citrus. Soft, diffused lighting glowed from behind frosted panels. The centerpiece was a deep, free-standing tub of white marble, big enough for two.
And it was occupied.
Julian reclined in the water, which was topped with a mountain of fluffy, white foam. He was completely naked. His arms rested on the rolled edges of the tub, his head tipped back slightly. His dark hair was damp at the temples, droplets clinging to the sharp line of his jaw. The foam covered him from the mid-chest down, but the powerful, defined planes of his shoulders, the column of his throat, the sculpted muscles of his arms and abdomen above the waterline were fully visible. His eyes were closed, his expression one of profound, unguarded relaxation.
Karina froze in the doorway, a nervous, startled laugh escaping her. “Well. That’s certainly a welcome. Should I… tip the bellhop?”
A slow, knowing smile curved his lips, but he didn’t open his eyes or take the bait. “Get in.”
Another quip, another deflection, rose to her lips—Isn’t there a queue? or Aren’t you cozy?—but the words died unspoken. He finally opened his eyes and looked at her. The look was not one of hunger or impatience, but of pure, undiluted focus. A caretaker’s gaze, steady and deep. It disarmed her completely.
She swallowed. Her fingers went to the sash of the robe. The knot gave way. The heavy fabric slid from her shoulders, puddling in a heap at her feet. She stood before him, utterly bare, her skin glowing in the steam-hazed light. The day’s tension was written in the slight curve of her shoulders, the elegant lines of her body—the full, beautiful weight of her breasts, the narrow dip of her waist, the gentle flare of her hips, the long, toned legs. She felt exposed, more than physically.
His eyes swept over her, a slow, comprehensive study. There was no urgency in it, no predatory gleam. Only appreciation. A quiet, reverent acknowledgment of her form. “Come here,” he said, his voice a low vibration in the steamy air.
* * *
She stepped into the tub, the hot water a shocking, blissful embrace that immediately began leaching the cold tension from her bones. He shifted, making space. His hands found her waist, guiding her down. She settled back, her body sliding against his, her spine aligning with his chest. She let her head fall back into the hollow of his shoulder with a sigh that was half-relief, half-surrender.
The fragrant foam covered them both, a warm, insulating blanket. The heat seeped into her muscles, into marrow-deep places she hadn’t realized were clenched. His arms came around her, beneath the water, one hand splayed possessively on her stomach, the other resting on her thigh.
And she felt him. The hard, rigid length of his arousal, pressed against the cleft of her ass, achingly full and hot even through the water. It was an instinct as old as time. Her body, ever the giver, ever the pleaser, stirred. Her hips made a subtle, unconscious roll, grinding back against him. She could give him this. She could start here, take him in her hand under the foam, make him groan and forget this strange, passive plan…
His hands tightened on her, gently but firmly stilling the motion of her hips. “Not yet.”
A frustrated, almost petulant sound escaped her. “But you’re—”
“Later.” The word was a low murmur breathed directly into her ear, sending a shiver down her spine that had nothing to do with the water’s heat. “Right now, relaxation. Can you be good for me?”
She exhaled, a huff of air that fogged the surface of the water. A hint of a pout touched her lips, unseen by him. But she nodded, her hair brushing his chin. “I can be good.”
“Good girl.”
The praise, simple and direct, sank into her with a warmth that rivaled the bath. She settled back, forcing her body to relax by degrees. His hands began to move. They slid up from her stomach, over her ribs, to her shoulders. His thumbs found the knotted, corded muscles at the base of her neck, where the weight of the world had taken up permanent residence.
He pressed. Not a gentle massage, but a deep, targeted, almost clinical pressure, working the bundles of tension with slow, circular motions that bordered on pain before blossoming into incredible relief.
A soft, broken moan escaped her—a sound of pure, unadulterated release, utterly devoid of eroticism. It was the sound of a burden being physically pressed from her body. He worked in silence, his breath steady against her ear, his fingers knowledgeable and relentless. Neck, shoulders, the tight space between her shoulder blades. Each knot was identified, attacked, and dissolved under his patient, persistent ministrations.
Her eyes fluttered closed. Her head grew heavy against his shoulder. Her breathing deepened, syncing with the rhythmic motion of his hands. The heat of the water, the calming scent of lavender, the grounding pressure of his body against hers, the exquisite torture of his fingers on her muscles—it all conspired to pull her down into a state of blissful, weightless oblivion. The vigilant, watchful, ever-planning part of her mind—the leader, the unnie, the protector—finally, finally switched off. She floated. She existed. She was, for the first time in memory, simply at peace.
* * *
Time became liquid, measured only by the gradual cooling of the water around them. Julian stirred first, his lips pressing a soft, lingering kiss to her temple. “Come on,” he murmured, his voice raspy with quiet. “Shower. Then bed.”
She made a soft sound of protest, clinging to the warm, weightless haven, but allowed him to guide her up. They rose from the tub together, water and foam sluicing off their skin in rivulets. He grabbed two large, fluffy towels, wrapping one around her shoulders before leading her, dazed and pliant, to the vast, glass-enclosed rainfall shower.
He turned the dial. A cascade of warm rain fell from the ceiling, misting the air anew. He took a washcloth and a bottle of sandalwood-scented body wash, lathering the cloth into a rich foam.
Then, with a worshipful care that stole the breath from her lungs, he began to wash her.
He started with her shoulders, the cloth tracing the elegant line of her collarbones. Down her arms, lifting each hand with tenderness, washing each finger, the palm, the wrist. Her back, following the delicate groove of her spine, over the subtle, beautiful dimples at its base.
He turned her gently under the spray to face him. The cloth passed over her chest, over the full, beautiful swells of her breasts with a reverence that made her heart ache. Her nipples tightened into sensitive peaks, but he did not linger, did not tease. This was not foreplay. This was sacrament.
He knelt before her on the shower floor. The cloth moved over her stomach, the flat plane of her abdomen, the curve of her hips. He washed each of her legs with long, slow strokes, from her thighs down to her calves. He lifted each of her feet, washing the sole, the arch, each toe with a focus that was almost absurdly tender.
Finally, with the same gentle, unhurried care, he washed her sex. The cloth passed over her folds, a soft, cleansing motion that was intimate but not invasive, acknowledging this most private part of her as simply another beautiful aspect of her whole self to be cared for.
She watched him through the veil of water and steam, her eyes soft and luminous. No one had ever done this. No one had ever washed her as if she were something precious, fragile, to be cherished rather than used, to be cleaned as an act of devotion rather than a prelude to consumption.
When he was finished, she took the washcloth from his hands. Her voice was a whisper, barely audible over the fall of water. “My turn.”
She lathered the cloth anew and began to wash him. She mirrored his actions with the same deliberate, silent devotion—his broad shoulders, the powerful muscles of his back, his chest, his arms. She knelt, washing his legs, his feet. She took his hard, thick length in her soapy hand, washing him with a tenderness that brought a low groan from his throat, not of passion but of profound, emotional release. It was not sexual, this mutual cleansing. It was a covenant, sealed under the warm, forgiving rain.
* * *
Dried and smelling faintly of sandalwood, their skin glowing, he led her by the hand into the bedroom. The only light came from a single brass lamp on a bedside table, casting a pool of warm gold across the vast expanse of the white duvet, which had been turned down invitingly. The city beyond the windows was a galaxy of electric stars.
She stood beside the bed, completely naked, the cool air raising goosebumps on her damp skin. She looked from the pristine sheets to him, and a familiar, teasing smirk surfaced, a last-ditch effort to regain familiar ground. “So. Finally. Time for the real fun. I’ve been patient. I deserve to be fucked now. Properly.”
“You do,” he agreed, his voice calm. His eyes, however, gleamed with a quiet, unshakeable authority. “But I’m in charge tonight. I do all the work. You just lie there.”
Her smirk faltered, replaced by genuine confusion. “What do you mean?”
“You’re going to lie on this bed,” he said, stepping closer, his gaze pinning her, “and let me take care of you. You won’t touch me. You won’t try to make me come. You won’t flip us over or take control. You’re going to be still. You’re going to receive. You’re going to be a pillow princess tonight.”
A genuine, almost offended pout formed on her lips. The idea was anathema to her nature. “That’s no fun. That’s boring.”
“It’s not about fun.” He closed the final distance between them, his hand rising to cup her jaw, his thumb stroking the high curve of her cheekbone. “It’s about receiving. You’ve spent your life giving, Karina. Giving pleasure. Giving care. Giving your voice, your energy, every piece of yourself until there’s nothing left but the shell that keeps giving. Tonight, you receive. Tonight, you let someone take care of you. All of you.”
The pout faded. The defiance in her eyes melted, revealing the vulnerability beneath—the sheer, terrifying unfamiliarity of passivity. She was a creature of action, of control. To relinquish it was to free-fall. But the certainty in his voice, the absolute safety in his touch, was a permission slip she had never been given.
“Okay,” she whispered, the word a surrender. “I’ll try.”
* * *
He guided her onto the bed. The cool, high-thread-count linen was a shock against her back. She settled against the pillows, her dark, damp hair fanning out like a shadowy halo. In the lamplight, her body was a breathtaking landscape of soft curves and elegant shadows.
Julian climbed onto the bed beside her but did not immediately move over her. He began at the top, working his way down with a patience that was itself a form of devotion.
Her face first. Soft, dry kisses pressed to her forehead, each closed eyelid, the bridge of her nose, the apples of her cheeks. “You have the face of a queen,” he murmured against her skin, his breath warm. “Regal. Commanding. Untouchable.” He kissed the corner of her mouth. “But right now, soft. Unguarded. This is my favorite version of you.”
Her ears. His lips brushed the delicate shell, his tongue tracing the curve, dipping lightly into the canal. A full-bodied shiver wracked her. Her hands, lying at her sides, twitched, her fingers curling into the sheets. The instinct to reach up, to pull him to her, to participate, was a physical ache. She forced them to relax.
His mouth journeyed down the elegant column of her throat, open-mouthed kisses that sucked gently at her skin, lingering at the frantic pulse that beat there. “This is where your voice lives,” he said, his voice a vibration against her neck. “The voice that commands stadiums, soothes your sisters, argues with executives, tells me what you want. Let it be silent. Let it rest.”
Her shoulders, the elegant, sculpted architecture of her collarbones. He kissed along each bone as if following a priceless map. “You carry so much weight here. The burden of leadership. The expectations of millions. Let it go. Just for tonight. Let me carry it.”
Then, her breasts. He paused, hovering above them, and looked up at her face. A faint, knowing, utterly male smirk touched his lips. “And these,” he said, his voice dropping an octave. “I’m going to spend extra time here. For obvious, entirely non-clinical reasons.”
A surprised, genuine laugh burst from her, bright and unguarded, breaking the intense, sacred tension. “You,” she breathed, shaking her head, “are such a man.”
“Guilty as charged.” And his mouth descended.
He took one peaked, rosy nipple into his mouth, sucking slowly, deeply, his tongue swirling around the taut bud with a languid, rhythmic precision that made her gasp. His hand came up to cup her other breast, his thumb circling the nipple in a perfect, maddening synchronization.
The laugh died in her throat, strangled by a shuddering moan. Her back arched off the bed, pushing her breast more firmly into his hot, wet mouth. Her hands fisted in the sheets, knuckles white with the sheer effort of not reaching for him, not tangling her fingers in his hair, not flipping him onto his back to take what she wanted. She was being good. She was receiving. And God, it was maddening. And incredible.
He lavished attention on her breasts for long, exquisite minutes—sucking, licking, nipping gently, then soothing with his tongue. He switched sides, giving the other the same worshipful treatment. Her moans filled the quiet room, low, resonant sounds of pleasure that were for her alone. She was enjoying it. Despite her protest, despite her ingrained nature, she was melting under the singular focus of his adoration.
* * *
He released her breast with a soft, wet pop, pressing a final, tender kiss to the sensitized peak, then to the valley between them. His lips began a slow, deliberate trail south.
Her stomach—the flat, toned plane, the subtle ridges of muscle that spoke of endless dance practices. “You’re so strong,” he whispered, kissing her navel. “But even strength needs to rest. To be soft.”
Her hip bones—the sharp, elegant crests. He kissed each one, his tongue tracing the sensitive, hollowed skin just inside the bone, making her jolt.
And then, he moved lower. Instead of heading straight for the aching, slick heat between her legs—where she was throbbing, empty, desperate for him—he bypassed it entirely. His lips found her right foot.
He started with her toes, taking each one into his mouth briefly, sucking lightly. The arch of her foot, which he kissed. The delicate hollow of her ankle. The strong curve of her calf. The incredibly sensitive back of her knee—a place she never knew could make her breath catch until his tongue traced a slow line there and a breathless, ticklish laugh escaped her.
“Julian…” she gasped, her head lifting from the pillow to look down the length of her body at him. “What are you doing?”
“Worshiping you,” he said simply, his eyes dark and serious as he met her gaze. “Every single inch. Be patient.”
He moved up her inner thigh, the skin there impossibly soft. His lips and the scratch of his stubble trailed from her knee upward, inching closer and closer to the molten core of her, the epicenter of her need. But he never quite reached it. He kissed the tender skin of her inner thigh, just an inch away, then retreated back down. He did it again, a fraction closer. The anticipation became a physical torment, a tight, coiling spring in her belly. She trembled. Her thighs quivered with the strain of staying open, of not clamping shut or bucking against him. The empty, wanting ache between her legs was a crescendo.
Finally—finally—after an eternity of exquisite torture, his mouth found her sex.
* * *
This was nothing like the frantic, devouring hunger of the morning in his office. This was an entirely different sacrament.
His tongue extended, a long, flat, languid stroke from the very entrance of her, gathering her wetness, all the way up to her swollen, hypersensitive clit. Slow. So unbearably slow. He tasted her as if sipping the finest wine, memorizing her flavor, mapping the intimate, glistening geography of her with patient, precise strokes.
He lapped at her entrance, drinking her arousal with gentle, kittenish flicks. His tongue dipped inside, just the very tip, curling, exploring the tight, silken heat, then retreating. He traced each swollen fold of her labia, one by one, as if cataloging every millimeter of sensation.
Finally, he centered on her clit. He didn’t suckle it fiercely. He circled it with the broad, flat pad of his tongue, a slow, steady, rhythmic pressure that built pleasure not like a crashing wave, but like a rising tide—inexorable, deep, all-encompassing.
His fingers joined—one, then two, sliding into her with the same deliberate, careful ease. He didn’t pump or curl them aggressively. He simply filled her, letting her feel the solid, stretching presence of him while his mouth continued its patient, devastating worship above.
Her moans changed. They were not the sharp, desperate cries she was used to making. They were deep, guttural, resonant sounds drawn from the very core of her being. Her hips rolled against his mouth in a slow, undulating rhythm, not chasing a finish, but simply feeling, immersing herself in the pure, undiluted sensation. Her hands came to rest on his head, not gripping or guiding, but simply anchoring herself to the solid reality of him as the pleasure built its slow, devastating architecture inside her.
The climax, when it arrived, was not a sharp, shattering explosion. It was a deep, rolling, seismic wave that began in the soles of her feet and rose through her core with tectonic slowness. It spread through her pelvis, her stomach, her chest, a flood of warm, golden release that seemed to have no end, purging tension she didn’t know she still carried. Her back arched, a long, resonant moan pulled from the depths of her chest—a sound of profound, bone-deep surrender, unlike any cry of frantic pleasure she’d ever made. She pulsed around his fingers, her inner walls clenching in slow, deep, rhythmic waves, and he drank every shudder, every sigh, until she collapsed back onto the pillows, boneless and gasping.
* * *
He rose from between her thighs, his face glistening. He crawled up her body, pressing soft, damp kisses to her hip, the quivering plane of her stomach, the underswell of each breast, the frantic pulse at the base of her throat.
He positioned himself between her legs. Instinctively, her hand darted down, wrapping around the thick, rigid length of him, slick with her arousal, to guide him home. He gently but firmly moved her hand away, placing it palm-up on the pillow beside her head. “No,” he whispered, his voice ragged with his own restraint. “I said I’d do the work.”
He notched the broad head of his cock at her entrance, swollen and sensitized and dripping for him. With one slow, deep, seamless thrust, he seated himself to the hilt.
A shuddering, broken gasp tore from her lips. Her eyes flew open, locking with his. The fullness was exquisite, overwhelming. Her legs wrapped around his waist, her heels pressing into the small of his back, pulling him deeper still.
He began to move.
The rhythm was not punishing, not frantic. It was slow, deep, and impossibly tender—a rolling, grinding cadence that felt less like fucking and more like a profound communion. Each thrust was a question and an answer, a silent acknowledgment of the trust that had brought them here, to this bed, in this suspended night. He was propped on his forearms above her, his face inches from hers, his dark eyes locked onto her own, refusing to let her hide. He watched every flicker of feeling—the flutter of her eyelids, the parting of her lips, the fleeting wince that transformed into dazed pleasure.
“Look at me,” he breathed, his voice a low thrum that vibrated through her very bones. “Stay with me.”
Her moans were continuous now, a low, resonant song. Her hips rose to meet each deep, measured stroke, not leading, but following, a perfect, submissive syncopation to his rhythm. This was not their usual frantic, filthy, wordless coupling. This was something entirely new. Something vulnerable. Something that felt dangerously close to the edge of a precipice she’d spent a lifetime avoiding.
Her second climax began as a slow, deep pressure, coiling tighter and tighter with each penetrating roll of his hips. It wasn’t a sprint to a finish line; it was a gradual submersion. When it broke, it was with a soft, broken cry that sounded like her name. Her body bowed off the bed, her inner walls clenching around him in a series of deep, rhythmic, milking pulses that seemed to pull his soul from his body. She held his gaze the entire time, her eyes wide and unguarded, wet with unshed tears, and he watched her fall apart, his own control fraying at the edges as he held himself back, determined to give her this.
* * *
He was still achingly hard inside her, his thrusts gentle now as she rode the lingering aftershocks, her body humming like a plucked string.
When her breathing had steadied to ragged gasps, she looked up at him. Her eyes were soft, luminous, filled with a quiet, desperate need that went beyond the physical. “Julian…”
“What do you want?” His voice was rough, strained with the effort of his restraint.
“I want…” She hesitated, a rare, breathtaking shyness crossing her features. She bit her swollen lower lip. “I want you to take me somewhere we haven’t been before.”
His brow furrowed slightly, not in denial, but in careful consideration.
“My ass,” she whispered, the words barely audible, yet they seemed to echo in the hushed room. “I want you inside my ass. I’ve never… I’ve never let anyone. But I want you to. Tonight. I want to give you everything.”
He searched her face, looking for any hint of uncertainty, of performative offering. He found only steady, clear-eyed certainty, and a trust so profound it stole his breath. “Are you sure? Truly?”
“I’m sure.” Her voice gained strength. “I trust you. I want to give you every part of me. All of me. Please.”
He leaned down, pressing a tender, lingering kiss to her lips, tasting the salt of her sweat and the sweetness of her surrender. “Okay,” he murmured against her mouth. “But we go slow. You tell me everything. You say ‘stop’ and we stop.”
* * *
He withdrew from her warmth, the loss drawing a soft whimper from her throat. He leaned over the side of the bed, opend the bedside drawer, and from it, a small, discreet bottle of lubricant.
“Hands and knees,” he instructed softly, his voice all clinician again, but his touch was infinitely gentle. He guided her, helping her turn over. She complied, rising onto her hands and knees, arching her back, presenting herself to him—vulnerable, exposed, and with a trust that was the most erotic thing he’d ever witnessed.
The cool air kissed her heated skin. He knelt behind her. The click of the bottle cap was loud in the silence. He warmed the slick gel between his fingers before his touch found her, not at her soaked, swollen sex, but lower, circling the tight, puckered ring of muscle that had never been touched.
He applied steady, patient pressure, circling, relaxing her with his touch alone before slowly, incrementally, pressing the pad of his finger inside. She gasped, a sharp intake of breath, her hands fisting in the duvet, her knuckles white. But she didn’t flinch away.
“Breathe,” he murmured, his other hand stroking the curve of her spine. “Just breathe into it. Tell me.”
“It’s… intense,” she managed, her voice tight.
“Does it hurt?”
“No. It’s just… a lot. So much.” She pushed back minutely against his finger, a tentative acceptance.
He worked her with exquisite care, stretching her slowly, adding a second finger when her body yielded, scissoring gently, preparing her with a focus that was both clinical and worshipful. He murmured a constant, low stream of praise and reassurance against the small of her back. “You’re doing so well. You’re so good. So open for me. Tell me if you want to stop.”
“I don’t,” she panted, pushing back more firmly against his fingers now, a bold, hungry motion. “I want more. I want you. Please, Julian.”
He withdrew his fingers, applied more lubricant to himself, his cock glistening and formidable in the low light. He positioned the broad, slick head against her prepared entrance, one hand steadying her hip.
“Ready?”
She nodded, then found her voice, thick with desire and trust. “Yes. Please. Now.”
He pressed forward.
It was a slow, inexorable invasion. Inch by agonizing, breathtaking inch, he entered her, the tight, hot, unbelievable clutch of her enveloping him, so much tighter than anything he’d ever known. A sharp, shuddering cry was torn from her throat, part pain, part overwhelming shock of sensation.
He stilled, buried to the hilt, letting her adjust, his own body trembling with the effort of control. “Karina. Talk to me. Are you okay?”
She turned her head, her cheek pressed to the duvet, her eyes wide and dark and swimming with tears of intensity. “Yes… don’t stop… it’s so much, it’s so full… God, it’s so good… please, move, Julian, please…”
He began to move. Slow, deliberate, deep strokes that filled her with an overwhelming, breathtaking fullness with every penetration. The sensation was entirely new, entirely consuming, a claiming that went beyond the physical and into the realm of the soul.
He leaned over her, his chest pressing against her sweat-slicked back, his lips finding the shell of her ear. One hand slid around her hip, his fingers finding her clit—swollen, hypersensitive, drenched from her previous climaxes. He rubbed slow, firm, perfect circles in exact time with his deep, measured thrusts.
“Come with me,” he commanded, his voice a ragged, guttural prayer against her skin. “One more time. This last time. Let go completely. I’m right here. I’m right behind you. Let go.”
The dual sensation—the deep, stretching fullness in her ass, the relentless, perfect pressure on her clit, his voice, his heat surrounding her—shattered the last of her defenses. Her third orgasm didn’t crash; it erupted. It was tectonic, cataclysmic, a supernova of feeling that blotted out thought, sound, everything but the sheer, overwhelming reality of him and the pleasure-pain he was wringing from her very core.
And this time, she cried.
Silent, hot tears spilled from her tightly shut eyes, tracking through the sweat on her temples, dripping onto the white duvet. They were not tears of pain, nor of sadness. They were tears of absolute, total release. Of a gratitude too vast for language. Of a burden she’d carried for a lifetime finally, *finally* being laid down at the feet of someone who could bear its weight. Of a woman who had spent her entire existence giving, finally allowing herself to receive, to be taken, to be filled, to be broken open and remade.
Her climax triggered his own. With a guttural, broken groan that was her name, he buried himself to the root, his release erupting in hot, pulsing waves deep inside the condom, his body shuddering violently against hers as he poured himself into her, into this sacred, stolen space they had created.
They collapsed together, a tangled, breathless, sweat-slicked heap of trembling limbs and pounding hearts. Her silent tears continued to fall, soaking into his shoulder where her face was buried. He held her through it all, his arms locked around her, his own breath coming in ragged gasps, his lips pressed to her hair, murmuring wordless, soothing sounds.
* * *
Long minutes passed. The world slowly seeped back in—the distant hum of the city, the cool air on their damp skin. He gently withdrew, pulling the duvet over them both before gathering her back into his arms. She curled into him, a small, spent thing, her face still hidden against his neck, her body occasionally trembling with a residual aftershock.
His thumbs came up, brushing the damp trails from her cheeks with infinite tenderness. His lips pressed soft, lingering kisses to her damp eyelids, her salty cheeks, her forehead. “You did so well,” he whispered, his voice hoarse with emotion. “You were perfect. So brave. So beautiful. I have you. I’m here.”
Her voice, when it finally came, was a raw, broken whisper, scraped from the depths of her. “Thank you. For tonight. For… everything. For seeing me. For taking care of me. No one has ever… no one…” The words failed, dissolving into a shaky breath.
“I know,” he said, his hand stroking her hair, his touch saying everything his words could not. “You deserve to be taken care of, Karina. You deserve to let someone else carry the weight, if only for a night. You are not just a leader. You are not just a caregiver. You are a woman. And you deserve to receive.”
“I didn’t know,” she whispered, the confession cracking open in the dark. “I didn’t know how much I needed to feel like this. I didn’t know it was even possible to… to not be in charge. To just… be.”
They lay tangled in the quiet dark, the city’s electric stars their only witness. Her tears slowed. Her breathing deepened, evening out against his chest. She drifted in the hazy, blissful space between sleep and waking, safer and more profoundly at peace than she could remember ever being.
* * *
The buzz was violent, a shard of glass shattering their porcelain sanctuary.
Karina jerked, a soft, disoriented sound escaping her. Reality, cold and demanding, crashed through the windows. She fumbled blindly on the nightstand, her fingers closing around her vibrating phone. The screen blazed with light: a candid, laughing photo of Ningning.
She answered, her voice thick with sleep and spent passion. “Hello?”
“Unnie! Where are you guys?” Ningning’s voice was a bright, chirping beacon of normalcy, loud enough for Julian to hear. “We’re back at the dorm, we forgot to buy dinner, we’re starving and too lazy to cook. Are you still at the meeting? Can you pick something up on your way? Pleasepleaseplease?”
Karina blinked, the gears of her other life grinding back into motion. She met Julian’s eyes in the dim light, a rueful, weary, but fond smile touching her swollen lips. “No, not at the meeting. We’re… at the doc’s office. Had a follow-up session after the Prada meeting. It ran long. We’ll pick up dinner on the way.”
“You’re the best, unnie! Get jjajangmyeon! From the good place! And tangsuyuk! Extra crispy! And maybe mandu!”
“Okay, okay. We’ll see you soon.”
The call ended. The silence that followed was different now, charged with the impending return. Karina stared at the darkened phone, then looked at Julian. A sigh escaped her—not one of disappointment, but of serene acceptance. The sanctuary had been temporary, and that was what made it sacred. “Back to reality, I guess.”
She leaned into him, pressing a deep, lingering, profoundly grateful kiss to his lips. It tasted of salt and surrender and a silent promise. “Thank you,” she breathed against his mouth. “For tonight. For all of it. I’ll never forget this.”
“Neither will I,” he vowed, his hand cradling the back of her head.
* * *
They rose, the spell broken but its warmth lingering on their skin. They dressed in a comfortable, synchronous silence. Karina stepped back into the delicate pink Prada dress, the 3D roses somehow more vibrant against her flushed, well-loved skin. She was fastening the straps when Julian paused, his hand going to the inner pocket of his jacket hanging on a chair.
“Karina. Wait.”
She turned, curious. He withdrew not a pen or a phone, but a small, elegant black velvet box, tied with a slim satin ribbon the color of midnight.
Her breath caught. She took the box with fingers that trembled slightly. The ribbon slipped free with a gentle tug. She lifted the lid.
Nestled against the plush velvet was a necklace. Not the usual bold, statement Chopard piece, but something ethereal, delicate. A fine, almost invisible chain of 18K white gold, cool and luminous. And suspended from it: a pendant. Two flawless, deep blue sapphire crystals formed a subtle, open cage. And between them, held not by prongs, but seemingly by magic, a single brilliant-cut diamond floated freely.
Karina stared, utterly mesmerized. Her finger reached out, touching the pendant. The diamond moved. It shifted, danced, spinning lazily at the barest contact, catching the room’s low light and throwing off tiny, dazzling sparks.
“The diamond… it moves,” she whispered, awe-struck. “It’s free.”
“It’s a Happy Diamond,” Julian said, his voice quiet in the hushed room. “Designed by Chopard to dance. To move without restraint. To sparkle because it’s free, not in spite of it.” He stepped closer, his gaze holding hers. “I chose it because that’s what I want for you. You’ve spent so long holding everything together, being the fixed point for everyone. I want you to remember that you’re allowed to move freely, too. You’re allowed to sparkle just for yourself. You’re allowed joy without it being a resource for others. You deserve to dance, Karina. Just for the sake of dancing.”
A single, perfect tear welled in her eye and traced a slow path down her cheek. She understood. “It means… self-love,” she breathed.
“Yes,” he said, brushing the tear away with his thumb. “The most radical act. You’re allowed to take care of yourself, too.”
She looked from the dancing diamond to his face, her eyes swimming with an emotion too vast to name. She didn’t try to speak. Instead, she rose on her toes, her hands framing his face, and kissed him. It was a kiss deeper and more eloquent than any poetry, filled with gratitude, understanding, and a dawning, terrifying hope.
“Put it on me,” she whispered against his lips. “Please.”
She turned, lifting the heavy, dark curtain of her hair. The delicate, cool chain settled around her throat, the clasp fastened with a soft click. The dancing diamond came to rest in the hollow of her neck, already shifting, alive, with every beat of her pulse.
She turned back to him, her fingers touching the pendant, feeling its playful movement. A slow, radiant, utterly unguarded smile transformed her face. “It’s perfect,” she said, her voice thick. “It’s… me. The me I’m learning to be.”
He cupped her jaw, his thumb stroking over the pendant, feeling the diamond dance beneath his touch. “It’s the you you’ve always been,” he corrected softly. “You just needed someone to give you permission to let her out.”
* * *
They finished dressing. Julian reassembled his professional armor—the crisp shirt, the tie, the jacket—but a new softness lingered around his eyes, a quiet light that hadn’t been there before.
They paused at the suite door, taking one last, shared look at the room behind them—the rumpled, sacred bed, the bathroom door ajar, the empty tub, the glittering cityscape that had held their secret. The sanctuary had served its purpose. It had been a cocoon, and within it, something had been irrevocably transformed.
* * *
Before his hand could touch the handle, Karina turned to him. “Julian.”
She rose on her toes once more, her hands coming up to frame his face with a tenderness that made his heart clench. She kissed him—a final, deep, slow kiss that tasted of lavender and sandalwood and promises kept. “Thank you,” she murmured, her forehead resting against his. “For seeing me. The real me. Not the leader. Not the idol. Just… the woman. The one who’s scared, and tired, and wants to be taken care of sometimes.”
He cupped her jaw, his thumb stroking over the dancing diamond at her throat. “The real you,” he said, his voice a low, fervent vow, “is the most breathtakingly beautiful thing I have ever seen.”
She smiled then—a genuine, unguarded, radiant smile that lit her from within, transforming her regal features into something soft, luminous, and heartbreakingly young. “Let’s go feed our children,” she said, the leader slipping back into place, but differently now, lightly, like the robe she’d worn. “They’re apparently starving.”
He laughed, a low, warm, real sound that echoed in the quiet hallway. “Lead the way.”
The door opened. They stepped out of the golden silence and into the cool, neutral air of the hotel corridor. The door sighed shut behind them, locking away the sanctuary and all its secrets.
But as they walked toward the elevator, Karina’s hand rose, her fingers finding the pendant at her neck. The diamond danced, free and sparkling, a secret joy against her skin. She was returning to her world, to her sisters, to the endless, beautiful burden of her life. But she was returning changed. Lighter. Freer. A woman who had, for one perfect night, learned how to receive, and in doing so, had found a part of herself she never knew was missing.
The night awaited, and across the city, three hungry women waited for their jjajangmyeon and for their leader, who was coming home to them whole.
To Be Continued...
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K-pop stories of passion, possession and blurred boundaries 💦
AESPA Karina x Male Reader
Smut, Fluff
Read on Fanprose
Never get married in your early twenties.
Especially when it’s arranged by your parents for business.
That would’ve been nice to know for you when you were still young. Now? You're close to hitting thirty, sitting at a bar in a hotel, desperately trying to drown the regret and disappointment as you stare at the divorce documents in front of you.
It was stupid of you to fall for her. At the start, you had both already made it clear you were just doing this for your parents. Whatever was best for business. Still, even if it was just a ruse or a straight up transaction, there were moments in those 6 years that felt real. Hell, maybe some moments that actually were real.
Again, stupid.
All it took was just for the right guy to come in and swoop her off her feet. The right guy to treat her right. The right guy to actually love her like she deserves.
It was bound to happen. ‘Luckily’ the two of you agreed on an out clause in the pre-nup for this specific situation. It was pretty in-depth and thorough, again, ‘luckily’ for you. Perks of it being an arranged business marriage. Get to go out with what you came in with, houses, cars, money, etc. For now, the hearings are just for the aspects that were bought or acquired while together. Fortunately, there won’t be any custody battle for kids (you both were too busy anyway) so these are more so about joint purchases. And the dog.
Still, you find the entire situation depressing. But who wouldn’t? At the very least, you thought that the two of you would eventually grow into the relationship. Like, actually end up being in love. It would have made life easier, having that aspect all ironed out. Well, now you’re stuck in the endless dating cycle, horrified by the countless dating apps, blind dates, set-ups—
“Excuse me? Is this seat taken?”
The question shocks you out of your mental rant, only to be caught in a trance by the beauty that was waiting for your response. Her porcelain skin glowed in the dim bar light. Her dark locks flowed just short of her shoulders. Eyes piercing, peering into your soul. You could go on for hours about the absolute perfection that stood in front of you, but you suddenly remembered that she needed an answer now.
“Uh, yeah– NO! I mean, no it’s not taken. It’s free.” Seeing you a bit flustered makes the woman giggle.
“All right, thanks.”
It’s a few minutes of silence, aside from her telling the bartender her order, in your desperate attempt to make the situation less awkward. You decide to focus on your drink and the… right. The divorce papers. All the bad thoughts start filing back in before—
“Rough night?” The embodiment of Aphrodite asks you.
“Hmm? Me? Oh. uh. Not really. Just a symposium for cardiology research.”
“You kinda seem too down to be bored.”
“Guilty as charged.” you joke. “Kinda weird to open up to a complete stranger but here it goes. My wife– well, soon to be ex-wife and I are finalizing our divorce.”
“Oh… I’m sorry.”
“Thanks. Nothing toxic happened or anything. It was just… something that ran its course.”
“Still, it hurts, doesn’t it?”
“That’s what the alcohol is for.” You joke. “Now, if you don’t mind me asking, what’s someone like you doing alone in a hotel bar?”
“Luckily for you, I don’t mind. I was attending an award ceremony in one of the ballrooms. It got a bit boring so I decided to take a walk.” The beauty explains. “After a few strides, I saw a guy out of the corner of my eye who looked like he needed some company.”
“Well, he appreciates it.” You joke as you take another sip of your drink. The alcohol clears up a bit for the gears in your brain to start turning. You remember seeing the sign of the awards show. Something about idols? That’s when it hit you. Why this beauty beside you looked so familiar. The puzzle pieces start to fall into place and the picture finally becomes clear.
“Oh my god.” You say as the realization finally hits you.
“It took you long enough.” The beauty smirks before taking another sip of her drink.
“K-Karina? From Aespa?” You manage to sputter out through the shock.
“Now I’m guilty as charged.” She jokes.
“I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you straight away. The alcohol—“
“It’s fine! Besides, it was nice being treated like a normal person and not an idol.”
“I wouldn’t really call someone as beautiful as you as just normal.” Your compliment earns a giggle from the idol, her cheeks slowly turning crimson from it.
An hour passes by with your new drinking buddy. The combination of the alcohol and her friendly and welcoming personality gets you to open up more. You tell her more about your relationship— well, past relationship. How it started as a transaction before you slowly started to fall for her. How you thought there could have been more.
Karina opens up as well. Upcoming group projects. Upcoming solo projects. How some of the older sunbaes have started to hit on her. It sounded like what you came to expect from someone in her industry. Her idea of mundane seemed like a world away from you. Still, she was so bright while talking about it that your attention never faltered. However, her last confession was something that would shake you.
“Okay.” Karina says before taking another swig of her drink. “I have to come clean if I want the night to go where I want to.”
She already had your full attention, but this seemed like it was important.
“We have actually met before.”
“Karina, I think I’d remember meeting you.”
“Yeah, it’s just you didn’t know it was me.”
You raise an eyebrow in reply, curious to hear a story that you should have been familiar with.
“I think it was a year, maybe two ago. My dad had a heart attack.”
“Oh. Sorry to hear that.”
“He’s fine now. Though he needed a triple bypass asap. None of the on call doctors were experienced enough. None of them were confident in doing the procedure. My mom and I were losing hope when we noticed a commotion among the nurses and residents.”
Two years ago? A triple bypass? The details start to feel familiar to you, but you’ve done countless surgeries that they all seem to blur together.
“That’s when I saw you, rushing from the ER straight to the operating room.” Karina continues. “Hours later you come out of the operating room to talk to me and my mom. I was in a mask so no one would really recognize me. Still, you went through what procedure you did, success rate and road to recovery for my dad. It was a little later when we overheard from the nurses that you rushed back from a personal appointment in Seokcho.”
Seokcho.
Now you remember. It was your last hail mary of trying to make it work with your ex. Unfortunately, it became the final nail in the coffin for her instead. Still, it was your duty. It didn’t matter to you whether it was a VIP case or not. All that mattered to you was that there was a life that needed saving.
“It shocked me and my mom, really. We didn’t ask for any special treatment. We didn’t even avail the VIP case. Still, you rushed back out of a sense of duty and responsibility. We couldn’t be more thankful that you did.”
As much as the surprise confession shocked you, Karina’s next actions did so even more. What started as a simple, accidental brush of your hands suddenly sent a shiver throughout your body when she took yours in hers. She held on tight before she used her other hand to direct your gaze towards her.
“I never did get to properly thank you for saving my dad’s life.” The way she said it sent your heart into overdrive.
Sultry.
Seductive.
Yet even with the suggestive tone, there was enough sincerity that you understood that she was serious. That it was heartfelt.
“Y-you don’t have to, Karina. It was my job. We don’t do it to be thanked.” You manage to stammer out.
The hand that directed your gaze towards her, which was resting on your chin, was now holding your cheek. Her soft touch was slowly making your face hotter, probably even turning it red.
“I know. But I want to.”
“Kari—”
Without any warning, Karina plants a kiss on your lips. It’s soft. Quick. Nothing too deep. Like she was testing the waters. Seeing if this little experiment of hers would work.
It would.
When she pulls away, you both pause for a second. You get lost in her eyes as she does with yours. No words are said, but an understanding was made. Karina’s the first to stand up. She grips your hand as she starts walking away from the bar. You follow suit, getting dragged across the lobby into the elevator. On the ride up to her floor, you both stand on either side of the elevator, leaving enough space for a group of people between you two. Thankfully at that time there weren’t any. You leaned against the wall, eyes still glued to hers as she does the same. The tension is multiplied due to the enclosed space. You’re fighting the alcohol that was clouding your mind from making you take her right there and then. The sense of relief that washes over you when the elevator dings feels like heaven.
The walk along the hall approaching her room was the opposite. Each step agonizing and excruciating as you fight the urge to pin her against the wall and crash your lips on to hers. When you get to her room, she takes her sweet time of unlocking the door. Probably teasing you. After going through the entrance, you thought your hands would be the first to lose control. It seems hers beat you to it.
In a heartbeat, Karina spins around, grips your collar hard, pins you against the wall, and crashes her lips hard against yours. You’re stunned by her assertiveness at first, but slowly match her passion with your own. Her lips claim dominance, her hands finding the back of your neck to pull your head down to meet her. Her tongue tries to breach your lips before you welcome her and meet hers with your own. Your hands rest at her waist, gripping her tight that your fingers disappear into the fabric of her dress. It doesn’t take much of your strength to lift her up, letting both of your lips meet easier as she stands on her toes.
You eventually give in to your desire. Your hands migrate south of her waist, fighting the temptation of stopping at her ass before you grip her thighs. She jumps into your hold when she realizes what you’re trying to accomplish, her legs wrapping around your hips out of pure instinct. Her arms follow suit, wrapping around your shoulders for stability. When she’s safe in your grasp, you spin around and pin her against the wall, continuing your heated kiss before she pulls away. It worries you at first, but the words that leave her mouth do more than set you at peace.
“Bed. Now.”
Karina whispers it against your lips before you pull her back into the kiss. You don’t need your sense of sight to follow her order.
At least you think you didn’t.
You bump into the couch and the coffee table twice before you actually make it to the bed. Each time you grunt out of frustration, but makes Karina giggle into the kiss. You eventually make it to the bed when your shins hit the plush of the mattress. You sit down on the edge with Karina still in your hold. She straddles your lap making sure your lips don’t separate.
Your hands are restless, caressing Karina’s sides and back through her dress. With the help of liquid courage coursing through your veins, you start traversing upwards of her body, feeling the sculpture of her figure through the fabric before brushing against her breasts. You pull away out of respect, letting her know you’ll only go as far as she lets you. She replies by gripping your wrists and bringing your hands back to her mounds.
“Don’t be shy now. I was hoping you’d like them.”
“I don’t know a single soul that wouldn’t.”
“Still… I’m pretty proud of them. All fucking natural. It would be a shame if you didn’t like them.”
“Liking them would be an understatement.”
Your actions match your words as you finally give in and hold on to Karina’s breasts with her permission. You massage her soft mounds through the fabric of her dress. Even covered, they feel like heaven. She finds your lips again, sneaking her tongue in between them. You have no choice but to welcome her. Though, like you said, what kind of sane person wouldn’t.
Your hands leave Karina’s breasts for a moment, earning a disappointed groan. Her disappointment doesn’t last long, as she understands why. Your hands travel to her back, digging under the fabric to find the zipper. When you find the small metal piece, you tug it down her body almost immediately, desperate to finally remove this obstacle out of your way. When she feels that you’ve already unzipped her back, she takes your hands to the collar of her dress and together slide it off of her. She stands up for a moment, letting the dress fall down her figure and pool on the ground. She steps out of the fabric only in her underwear.
“It’s kinda unfair that I’m the only one properly dressed for this situation.” Karina says with a pout.
You get the implication, standing up with your hands quickly moving to your belt to undo your pants. Karina’s hands move to your shirt, slowly going down your torso and undoing each button along the way. Soon you finally join her in her state of undress, left only in your boxers while she is still in her underwear. You both pause, taking a second as you both realize what’s about to happen. You’re still unsure about whether you should push through or not. She, however, wasn’t.
Karina is the first to make a move, reaching to the front of her bra and undoing the clasp.
Front-clasp bra.
Now that’s fucking unfair.
She pulls her arms to the back, letting gravity do the job by pulling the garment down her arms. When her bra hits the ground, her face forms a smirk. Her bare chest is exposed to you. Her pride and joy. And it catches you in a trance. You almost don’t notice how she pulls down her panties. Just a slight tug before letting gravity take over again. It pools around her ankles, joining the rest of her outfit on the carpeted floor. It only took two swift movements, but they did their job. Karina presents herself bare to you, it’s only fitting you match her.
You tug your boxers down and step out of them before tossing them somewhere in the room. Your rash actions earn a giggle from Karina before she reaches for your face. In reply, your hands find the dip of her waist, holding her softly as you pull her in.
Your lips meet once again. Softer this time. Deliberate. There's no fight for control. Just subtlety. Peace.
You spin the both of you around before you start leading her back towards the bed. Your lips never part as you nudge her backwards. She lies down on the plush mattress while you follow her down. Your arm wraps around her waist, carrying her and bringing her to the center of the bed. She giggles through the kiss from your sudden show of assertiveness. Your shaft brushes against her lower lips as you both get in position, making you both shudder. You’re both desperate to be in her now, foreplay be damned. She takes hold of your length and nestles you at her entrance. She pulls away, stares deep into your eyes and gives you the slightest nod.
That’s all the assurance you need.
You start pushing in, and the sound that Karina makes is somehow both cute and erotic. Whatever it was it devolves into a moan as more of your dick enters her cunt. When you finally bury all of your length into her, you let out a guttural groan while another moan escapes from her. She grabs your face, brings you close, and captures your lips again in a searing kiss. In between your lips lapping at each other, she mumbles against your lips.
“Fuck me.”
You have no intention not to.
You drag your length out of Karina, her walls clinging to you with the help of her slickness and her tightness. You try to stifle your grunts as she bites her lower lip to stop her mewls. When only your tip is left inside, you immediately drive back into her making her unable to stop her moan. She clings hard to your back as you start to build up speed, repeating the motion over and over, driving yourself deeper and harder each time. She gives up trying to muffle the erotic sounds escaping herself and buries her face into your neck. The scent of her hair and the vibration of her reactions against your skin drives you insane, encouraging you to pick up your speed. Soon, you find a steady rhythm, slowly inching the both of you to your shared sweet release.
You’re lost in your pleasure when it happens. Karina pulls away from your neck and her face starts changing. Flashes of someone else’s face start appearing on top of hers. It takes a moment until you start to recognize who it was.
It was her face.
Your ex.
With the image temporarily stamped on your brain, you start to lose yourself in something else.
Your thrusts grow erratic. No rhythm. No pace. Just… desperation. You start to think that if you fuck her well enough, that if you give your all into making her feel good, she will stay with you. She won’t leave you. The emotions become too much that they start manifesting in other ways. You lose control of your mouth as you start muttering under your breath:
“Don’t leave me.”
“Please. Stay.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I can be better.”
“We can make this work.”
“Please. Just sta—“
You’re shaken awake from the trance when you feel a pressure on your face. Slowly, your eyes start to readjust in the low light. The face of your ex was slowly fading away. Left in its place was the true face of who you were with tonight.
Karina.
As her hand rested on your face, her thumb slowly started stroking your cheek. Your erratic movement slows down. Your breathing normalizes. At first, you could only see her lips move as she spoke, but eventually you started hearing her voice again.
“Hey.”
She takes a break from the passionate and seductive tone she had used earlier that night. Instead, she sounds comforting. Understanding. Caring. It's been a while since you’ve last heard that in someone’s voice. Frankly, you’ve needed it.
You lose control as your emotions get the better of you. A tear escapes from the corner of your eye only for Karina to wipe it away.
“It’s okay.” She whispers to you. “It’s just me. You’re okay.”
“I’m sorry. Karina–”
“Call me Jimin. And you don’t have to explain yourself.” She says as she comforts you. “Just promise me one thing.”
“W-what?”
“Let go.”
When you heard the two words, you finally realized how much you were being weighed down.
“Even if it’s just for tonight. I need you to let go. Forget about her. Move on.”
From Karina’s words, the weight that was just made known to you was suddenly lifted. From her actions, you felt like you were floating like a feather. You choose not to reply verbally to her request.
Because your actions were about to speak louder than your words ever could.
You crash your lips on Karina’s, setting the tone of your reinvigorated tryst. Your hips start moving again, building a rhythm that she was enjoying as you caught all her moans in your mouth. You make every thrust deliberate, driving your tip into her most sensitive spots. Your thrusts start to grow faster again. Not erratic. Not desperate. Just conscious. Her moans signal that she’s getting close, and even after the short pause, so are you.
“Fuck, right there!” Karina screams, “You’re filling me up so much… stretching me so good…”
The words have you start driving even faster into Karina. Her moans were filling up the room before you captured them in your mouth with a kiss. She starts gripping your back even harder, signalling her impending climax. You could feel her moan into your mouth when it starts. Her walls start fluttering around your cock. She hugs you tighter, keeping you close despite your hips still working your length into her. You could feel her juices start to soak your crotch. All the sensations of Karina’s peak work in concert to rush you towards your own. You try continue fucking her through her high before you finally concede to the inevitable.
You’re able to give Karina a few more thrusts before you succumb to your orgasm. You use all your remaining strength (because believe me when I say that you needed all that you had left) to pull out of Karina. You manage to do so just before the first throb of your dick, accompanied by the first shot of your cum that flies out of you. The first blob lands just under her breasts. The second falls on her midriff, close to her belly button. The final few shots dribble out of you, landing just above her cunt. All the while, Karina writhes in pleasure as her high continues on while your length twitches in the open air above her.
Your combined labored breaths fill the room, keeping it just shy of total silence. Your arms and legs are sore as you use whatever strength you have left to keep yourself from falling on top of Karina. Her eyes are shit tight as she slowly comes down from her high, her body calming down to a near halt. When she opens her eyes, your gaze is immediately attracted to hers. She reaches up with one hand, cupping your cheek and easing your face down towards her. You follow her slowly, capturing her lips in a soft yet passionate kiss. It only lasts a moment, but it makes you feel that all is right with the world. When you separate, her lips form a soft smile.
“Hey.” she says with a grin
“Hi.” you reply as your own mouth curves into a smile.
“You didn’t cum in me?” she says as she brings a finger to her midriff. She starts playing with your cum, spreading it across her skin, scooping some up and tasting it. You’d be lying if you said that the imagery isn’t hot. It got your softening member already twitching back to life.
“No.” you reply as you sit back, your cock slipping out of her as you land on your butt. “I wasn’t sure if you wanted to. Or if you were safe.”
“That’s courteous of you.” Karina says as she sits up, “I love that you’re a gentleman, but you have nothing to worry about. I’m on the pill.” she leans in and gives you a quick peck.
When Karina pulls away, she shows you a playful smirk.
“Besides, I hope you still have some left in the tank, because believe me when I tell you that I want you to fill me up to the brim.”
If you weren’t fully hard yet, that statement gets you there easily.
“But let’s save that for later.” She says as she swings her legs to the edge of the bed. “Right now, I need a shower.”
Karina stands up from the bed as she starts making her way to the bathroom. You can’t help but stare at her, watching her hips sway with every step, catching you in a trance. Halfway there though, she pauses when she notices that you’re still on the bed.
“Didn’t think I’d need to say this…” Karina says as she looks over her shoulder, “...but I was hoping to shower with you.” The smirk she wears has you twitch.
You’re up on your feet in seconds.
— — —
The shower does its job.
Mostly.
It only takes seconds for Karina to wash her cum off her midriff. It also only takes seconds for her to pull you into a kiss.
As the warm water falls around the both of you, your hands find her bare waist, fingers digging deep into her flesh as the two of you make out in the shower. The cramped space would normally be uncomfortable for you, but now?
It felt sensual.
Intimate.
Having this goddess so close to you both by her choice and as a consequence of the setting felt like heaven. Three hours spent with her and only now you start asking whether or not you’ve died and gone to paradise.
“So…” Karina says in a break from your lip clash, “Is there anything you want to do while we’re in here?” she says with a smirk.
You take a moment to really think it through. And as tempting as it is to suggest something with her tits, another idea forms in your head.
“Would it be crazy if I said I wanted to fuck your thighs?”
The question surprises Karina at first, but she smiles anyway.
“Bold. Guys usually go straight for my girls.” She says as cups her breasts.
“We’ll get there.” You say as you wrap your arm around her waist, “I want to take my time with you. But I’d be lying if I said I haven’t been thinking about your thighs the past few hours.”
“Then what are we doing just standing here?” Karina says with a smirk as she takes hold of your length and slides you in between her thighs.
With the help of the warm water from the shower as a lubricant, you start sliding your dick in between Karina’s thighs. She squeezes her limbs hard, making it as tight as possible for you. Feeling her flesh wrap around your length was mind breaking, while the top of your shaft rubbing against her folds was stimulating her as well.
“Fuck Karina… Jimin. Your thighs. They’re fucking perfect.” You say as you start building up speed. The water squelching in between her thighs as you start fucking her properly.
“Does it feel good? How my thick thighs squeeze you so hard?” Karina says as she reaches down and starts playing with her clit, adding to her pleasure and the build to her own release.
You capture her lips in a searing kiss as a response, but it only lasts for a moment before you pull out and spin her around. She gasps and laughs from the sudden action before you press her against the glass of the divider.
You slip yourself between Karina’s thighs again, continuing the fast pace you had already built. Your hand snakes down and meets hers at her clit, the both of you working it to pleasure her. Your other hand wraps around her, reaching for her breasts.
Just because you were fucking her thighs, doesn’t mean her tits didn’t deserve any attention. You hold her mounds, massaging her flesh, kneading them in your palms. You let her hardened nipples dance in the spaces between your fingers before you pinch and pull on them.
“Oh God, just like that…” she moans against the glass. The synced sensations you were giving her mounds and clit are getting to her. “Please. Don’t stop. I’m getting close.”
You’re pleased with the reaction you manage to elicit from her. You’re even more happy knowing that she was getting off from this too. You don’t reply with words, you never had any plans to. Your mouth was too busy with her neck. Planting kisses. Sucking on her flesh. Tasting her skin.
Your thrusts start to grow erratic. Each thrust has you almost slip into Karina, making her whimper each time. The top of your shaft continues to rub against her clit while you continue to play with the enlarged nub with your hand. Her hands reach back to cling to you, her fingers getting tangled in your hair as you continue to pump in between her thighs.
“God, just like that! I’m close I’m close I’m—”
“Fuck, Jimin! I’m—”
It takes just the right pressure on her clit, the right knead of her breast for Karina to break down in your hold. Her body melts in your embrace despite her grip on your neck and hair tightening. She lets out a scream followed by a series of moans and whimpers. Her nectar starts seeping between her lips, coating your shaft as you go through your own high.
You give Karina one final thrust as you succumb to your own climax. You put all your weight on her, pressing her against the glass as she goes through her high. You could feel her juices coat your length when you start to throb in between her thighs. The first rope shoots out and taints the clear glass, followed by the second, then the third, and so on. The throbs continue for god knows how long, leaving you confused as to where this was coming from.
Okay, maybe not.
Considering the sensation of having Karina’s smooth and full thighs squeezing hard and wrapped around your cock, maybe your high could have gone on forever.
Still, when the last of your release sputters out, some drops landing on Karina’s thighs, you feel yourself weaken. Your hands quickly stabilize yourself by pressing on the glass, Karina still being pressed against it.
For a while, only your combined labored breaths echo throughout the small confines of the shower. As the silence starts to grow, Karina starts giggling against the glass. It’s infectious as you start laughing to, your arms wrapping around her waist before you rest your head against her neck. She spins around in your embrace, her thighs finally letting your length fall free. She gives you a quick peck on the lips before pulling away and smiling.
“That was fun.” she says with a cheeky smile.
“Yeah…” You would say more, but you’re at a loss for words.
“So…” Karina asks, “what else do you have planned after washing up again.”
This time your silence is intended. You didn’t really need words when your smirk could answer her for you.
— — —
After washing up again, you carry Karina out of the bathroom back into the bedroom. Her arms are wrapped around your neck, legs wrapped around your waist, all the while your lips are locked with hers in a searing kiss. You take a few steps before you smile through the kiss, tossing her on the bed making her laugh while she bounces on the mattress. You’re only separated for a second as you're back on her again, pinning her against the plush while your lips are locked. When you pull away, you finally answer her question from the shower.
“I want to taste you.” You whisper against her lips.
Karina spreads her legs, giving you one last quick peck before she starts pushing you down by your shoulders. “Be my guest.” She says it with a grin.
You trail kisses down Karina’s body as she pushes you down her frame. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t tempted to stop at certain parts of her figure (her tits), but alas it’s your idea to eat her out. You might as well make good on your promise.
You’re caught in a trance when you finally come face to face with Karina’s pussy. From your peripheral, you could see her staring daggers at you, eagerly waiting for your next move. Anticipating the pleasure she knows you’re going to give her.
It’s best not to keep her waiting.
You start off with small and quick exploratory (ironic considering the debauchery that the two of you have been doing the past few hours) kisses in the area surrounding her core. You plant them softly on her thighs, almost forgetting that you were fucking them mere minutes ago. You start near her midthighs, trailing them up just before her cunt before you go back down. You follow up with licks, making a path with your tongue that ends just close to her core again before retreating. Then you start biting her. Just lightly. Capturing her flesh in between your teeth before you start sucking. It leaves visible marks, light bruising from your teeth and lips. You continue the cycle, kissing, licking, biting, getting closer and closer to her pussy before you retreat back.
It teases Karina straight to the edge. She becomes a whimpering mess throughout this ordeal. Tossing and turning on the bed while her eyes are shut tight from the pleasure. Under her whimpers, you can already hear her muttering:
“Please please please please please…”
She’s desperate for it. Desperate for your touch. Desperate for you to make her feel good.
So you do.
From just above her puckered hole up to her clit, you give her one long and dragged out lick that shatters her. She starts quivering in your hold. A long moan breaks out from her mouth before she starts muttering again.
“Thank you! Fuck thank you I— Ohhhhh!”
Karina doesn’t get to finish her thought as moan forces its way out of her throat when you lick her again. And then you do it again. And again. You work her like she’s a popsicle. Your licks push deeper, feeling her inner walls surround your tongue. You taste her nectar straight from the source. The volume of her moans increases, the quantity too. She squirms on the mattress as it takes all your strength to keep her legs open.
“God… Oh fuck! Right there! Please, god! Keep going!”
As her pleas escape her mouth, you feel the urge to fulfill them.
You give her folds one final lick before you put all your attention on her clit. You capture the enlarged nub in between your lips, kissing it, sucking on it, making Karina mewl. You replace your tongue with something else, freeing her thigh from your grip before you ease a finger into her entrance. She shudders the second you enter her. Even biting her lower lip couldn’t muffle her moans. When you bring in a second you could see her eyes roll back. You think she passed out before her eyes open wide when you start pumping into her.
You start off slow. Dragging your fingers out slowly before plunging back into her. She gasps whenever you hilt to the knuckle. Moans when you rub her inner walls. You pay attention to her reactions, especially when you put pressure on certain spots, trying to find her most sensitive points.
“FUCK! Yes! Right there! Right there!”
That must have been one of her more sensitive spots. It encourages you to push Karina’s pleasure to the next level. You build up a fast pace with your fingers, rigorously pumping into her cunt, focusing on the spots that had her shaking with a touch. Your mouth forms a seal on her clit, sucking the enlarged nub, flicking at it with your tongue. All of your actions work in harmony to push her closer and closer to her release until…
“Oh fuck!”
That curse signals Karina’s peak. Her third orgasm of the night. Her thighs finally overpower you, snapping around your head. Her body tenses up before her hips act on their own and start grinding against your face. Her fingers get entangled in your hair as she pushes you deeper into her core. The moans that follow her initial expletive start pouring out of her mouth, often inserting your name every few seconds. Throughout her climax, you never stop your actions. Your tongue replaces your fingers, lapping at her folds once again, capturing the jets of her juices that were coming at you.
It takes a few moments for Karina to settle down. Her thighs loosen up on your head. Her fingers let go of your hair. She melts back into the mattress, sinking into the plush with a satisfied smile plastered across her face. Her chest rises and falls slowly as she takes deeper and labored breaths, evidence of the intensity that you managed to put her through. Through her deep sighs you can hear her whisper softly:
“...everything…I…imagined…”
With what little strength she has left, she tugs you up her body. Again, you trail kisses on the way up, leaving visible marks with your lips still coated with her juices. She captures your lips in a searing kiss, her tongue lapping at yours, tasting herself on you. She licks your lips and the surrounding areas before her mouth grows into a smile.
“So… did I taste good?”
“Tasted fucking perfect Jimin.”
“Good.”
Karina’s strength surprises you, not because you didn’t think she was strong, but because you thought she didn’t have any left. She spins the two of you around, pinning you on the mattress while she straddles you.
“Because I’ve been dying to have you back inside me.”
She reaches down, taking hold of your dick before nestling it at her entrance. Slowly, she sinks down your length, taking you inch by inch as her face contorts in pleasure. You could do nothing but let your hands gravitate to her waist and hold on for dear life as she takes control of the night. When she takes you to the hilt she lets out a guttural moan. She pauses for a second, adjusting to having you inside of her once again. When she’s comfortable, she slowly starts raising her hips, your shaft leaving her insides with a visible coating of her arousal. When only your tip is left inside, she slams her hips back down, taking you fully in one swift motion. She lets out a whimper as your tip presses on the entrance of her womb, desperately trying to stifle it by burying her head into your neck. She repeats the action again. And again. And again. Her hips bouncing on top of you. Your crotch meeting hers with a slap. You take her face out from your neck before you crash your lips onto hers in a searing kiss.
The way Karina rides you would look random to someone watching but, but all her actions were intentional. Precise. Each movement deliberate in pushing the both of you closer and closer to your shared peak. Each bounce drives you deeper and harder into her, pushing your tip against her womb. Each grind she does with her hips has your shaft rubbing against her most sensitive spots. She moans into your mouth while you groan into hers. If the past few hours weren’t heaven yet, this feeling now is.
Karina pulls away from the kiss, her moans freely filling the room. In between her moans are lust filled confessions that let you know how long you’ve been the center of her desires.
“God this is just how I imagined this!”
“You don’t know how long I’ve waited for this. How long I've dreamt of this.”
“Getting to finally kiss you. Finally hold you.”
“Fuck! You fill me up so fucking well. Make me feel better than anything that I could ever imagine!”
Her actions become frantic as she gets closer to her release. You could feel it. Her walls start to spasm around your shaft. You take it as a sign to help her get to her peak. You sit up, coming face to face with her breast. Your hands leave the dip of her waist, travelling up her body and grabbing her mounds. You knead them in your hands, massaging them to make her feel good. You capture one of her hardened peaks in your mouth, sucking on it while letting the other dance in the spaces between your fingers. You capture the other one too before you bring both of them into your mouth. You suck on them simultaneously, flicking your tongue against them.
“God! Feels so fucking good! So much— too much—”
The added sensations were becoming too much for her. You could feel her walls start to contract around you. It takes only a moment, one last bounce and grind before she comes undone.
“Oh fuck!”
Karina’s mouth falls open in a silent cry as she reaches her peak. Her inner walls start spasming violently around you, making it a challenge for you to hold back your own high. Her body stiffens, nearly falling backwards before you catch her. Your face remains buried into her chest as she hugs your head. Your lips remain active, kissing, biting, and licking her mounds as she holds your face close to her heart. In between her labored pants, some giggles escape her before she starts peppering the top of your head with kisses. She eventually melts in your embrace, nearly going limp in your hold. What comes out of her mouth is close to unintelligible as she wears a blissful smile with a glaze over her eyes. As she revels in her post high, she remains aloof to the fact that you have yet to finish, or your intention of getting her her fifth orgasm of the night.
Karina yelps in surprise when you suddenly pick her up and reverse your positions, pinning her on the bed. Your length never leaves her heat as you press her into the mattress. Unceremoniously, you start pistoning into her matching the pace that she set while riding you. You use her heightened sensitivity to your advantage, never letting her come down from her high in order to bring her closer to her final climax of the night.
“Oh God! Wait! Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck— Too much! Too fucking good— I can’t—”
She doesn’t get to finish her thought as you crash your lips onto hers. You continue fucking Karina at what looks like a erratic sprint, but every thrust into her is intentional. Each time you bottom out piercing deep into her. Each thrust rubbing against her sensitive spots. Her lips separate from yours in a fit of pleasure, her head hanging back and her mouth agape as a long moan escapes. You keep your mouth busy by focusing on her neck, finding the hollow of her throat and marking her flesh with kisses.
You’re racing the both of you to your shared peak. All the sensations pile on Karina’s heightened sensitivity, inching her closer to nirvana. You’re not far behind, with her previous orgasm nearly bringing you to the tipping point.
“Fuck yes. God, just like that! I’m so fucking close please! I’m close I’m close I’m—”
An earth shattering cry rips from Karina’s throat as it signals her peak. Her fingers dig into your back, her legs lock tight around your hips. Her body tenses up, back arching away from the bed and pushing into yours. Her hips grind against your crotch, meeting your thrusts and driving you deeper into her core. Her walls start fluttering around you, milking you for your orgasm that has yet to start. Fortunately, that’s what sets you over the edge.
“Jimin –FUCK– I’m—”
“Inside! Please, don’t pull out! Give it all to me inside!”
You bury yourself deep inside of Karina to fulfill her request. You feel the first throb of your dick as it shoots the first stream of your cum deep into her womb. You could do nothing but stay still and hold her close as you continue to throb inside of her, painting her inner walls white and flooding her insides with your seed. Your face was buried in the crook of her neck before she caressed your cheek, directing you to meet her in a passionate kiss.
Both you and Karina stay still through your shared nirvana. Both unable to move. Both unwilling to move. You hold each other close, lips clashing, tongues lapping. You continue to throb inside of her while her walls continue to milk you for all you have.
After a few intense minutes, you both finally come down from your shared high. You both separate from the kiss as you both need more air in your lungs. Karina’s grip on you with her arms and legs loosen, her body melting and sinking into the mattress. Her walls start to calm down around your length as well. You use your remaining strength to keep yourself from crashing on top of her. Slowly, your gazes meet again. You both get lost in each other’s eyes for a moment, then she weakly reaches up with both hands for your face. You lean in to her, letting her guide your lips back to hers in a soft kiss. It only lasts seconds, but it feels like forever. When you both pull away, you both form a smile, unable to contain your emotions. You slip out of her, lying down to her side as you start to realize what just happened. For a minute, you end up staring at the ceiling with only your shared labored breaths battling the silence of the room. When you finally look to your side to find her still looking at you. You can’t help but match the smile she was wearing. The smile doesn’t even disappear when she finally breaks the silence.
“Hey.”
You’re amazed at how smoothly it just rolls off of her lips. Like the past few hours of debauchery didn’t happen. You could think of no reply except one thing:
“Hi.”
You both end up giggling from the back and forth. Karina lets out a yawn, understandable considering that you did the equivalent of a marathon the whole night. You pull her in close as the fatigue starts to get to her. As you hold her while she starts to sleep, you kiss her on her forehead and whisper a final message for the night.
“Thank you, Jimin.”
The soft smile that forms on her face is the last thing you remember before losing consciousness yourself.
— — —
You start waking up when you feel the sunlight hit your face. When you sit up, you find yourself alone in the hotel room. You’re disappointed at first, thinking that Karina just left after your wonderful night together, but then you see your phone.
Under an unlisted number, you see a series of texts that instantly tells you that last night wasn’t just a dream.
Hey. It’s Jimin. I hope you don’t mind that I left my number on your phone.
Sorry I had to leave early. Manager called about a schedule.
Last night was amazing. Give me a call when your divorce is settled.
Let’s go on a proper first date then. Maybe you’ll finally fuck my tits afterwards. ;)
The last line makes you chuckle. You save the number under her real name.
Jimin
Because that’s who you remember.
Not the idol.
But the person behind the persona who actually cared about you.
The one who helped you realize that it’s okay to move on.
Before you get dressed and head to your own room, you send a reply before tossing your phone on the bed.
The words were a hammer blow in the quiet, plush room. They cut through the chemical fog clinging to Wonyoung’s mind, a sharp command that demanded obedience her body was too sluggish to give immediately. Her head, so heavy, lolled against the buttery-soft leather of the studio’s green room couch.
The mascara she’d applied for her photoshoot had wept down her cheeks, leaving inky trails that looked like cracks in a porcelain doll. Her breathing was a shallow, ragged thing, each pull of air a conscious effort. The pristine white blouse, some European designer’s fantasy of purity, was torn open from collar to sternum.
The delicate lace cups of her bra were shoved roughly beneath the full, pale mounds of her breasts, exposing them completely to the cool, conditioned air. Her nipples were tight, drawn into hard, dusky pink pebbles.
“I said, look at me, you bitch.”
Your hand, rough and demanding, tangled in the perfumed silk of her hair. You wrenched her head up. Her neck strained, tendons standing in stark relief against her pale skin. Her eyelids fluttered, struggling to bring the world into focus. First, a blur of muted gold and grey. Then, the shape of you. Recognition came slowly, like molasses dripping through tar. Then confusion, a childlike bewilderment. Then, a dawning, gut-wrenching horror that cleared the haze for one crystalline second.
“Y-you…” she slurred, the word thick and clumsy on her tongue. “What… what did you do to me?”
You leaned in. Your breath was hot against the delicate shell of her ear. In the corner of the room, the small, discreet camera on its tripod watched with its unblinking red eye. It captured the tear tracks, the terror, the ruined blouse. “I gave you what you earned,” you whispered, the sound a low rasp. “A taste of your own perfect little medicine. But the main course is just being served.”
Her body trembled then, a full-body shudder that had nothing to do with the room’s chill. She tried to push at your chest, but her arms moved as if through deep water, slow and weak, her palms slapping against you with pathetic, muffled thuds. “Stop… please…”
“Please?” The laugh that barked out of you was hollow, ugly. “That’s a new fucking word for you. Didn’t hear it when you had your little pack of hyenas corner me in the third-floor bathroom. Didn’t hear it when you ‘accidentally’ poured that entire fucking strawberry milk down my shirt in the cafeteria. You just laughed. That perfect, tinkling little laugh that made everyone else laugh with you.” You released her hair, and her head dropped back to the leather with a soft, final thump. Your hands went to your belt buckle, the metal clicking loud in the silence. “You’re gonna make a whole new symphony of sounds for me tonight. And I’m gonna keep every fucking one.”
The memories flashed, hot and bright, behind your eyes as you worked the denim open—a montage of humiliations scored by the soundtrack of her giggles. The deliberate trip that sent your textbooks skittering across the polished hallway floor. The whispered campaigns, so expertly orchestrated, that left you eating lunch alone for weeks, the taste of food ash in your mouth. The cold, beautiful cruelty of it all, wrapped in a face and a body the world adored. And then she was just… gone. Off to trainee schedules, then debut, then stardom, leaving the wreckage of you behind like trash forgotten in a locker. The bitterness had festered, sweetened, and curdled into this perfect, dark idea.
Her schedule was public for a dedicated “fan.” The backstage pass was a forgery that cost two months’ rent. The distracted guard at the service entrance accepted an envelope of cash without a second glance. The drug was simple, a pharmaceutical-grade tranquilizer, colorless and tasteless, stirred into the bottle of vitamin water her harried manager left on the dressing table. She’d drunk it down, complaining of a headache, wanting to be sharp for the cameras. You’d watched from the shadowed service alcove, heart a frantic drum against your ribs, as the lethargy first softened her movements, then glued her to the chair. When her manager’s phone rang and she stepped into the hall, you moved.
Now, you shoved your jeans and boxers down your hips. Your cock, thick and heavy and already fully erect, sprang free. It was a part of yourself you’d always felt awkward about, too much, too obvious. But seeing her glassy eyes widen at the sight of it, seeing the drugged fear twist her pretty features, it transformed. It was power made flesh. Long, veined with throbbing blue lines, the shaft a fierce red and the head a swollen, flushed purple. A single bead of clear precum welled at the slit, gleaming under the studio lights.
“See this?” you growled, wrapping your fist around your own girth, giving it a rough, possessive stroke. The skin was hot and silky under your palm. “This is what you paid for. With every smirk. With every whispered joke. You’re gonna take every fucking inch of it. You understand me? And you’re gonna thank me for it before I’m done.”
“No…” The whimper was barely audible, a broken exhale. She tried to curl in on herself, to become smaller, but her legs only shifted weakly on the couch leather. “Don’t… it won’t… it’s too…”
“It’s too what, Wonyoung? Too big for a precious little idol’s pristine cunt?” You climbed onto the couch, your knees sinking into the cushion on either side of her hips, pinning her in place with your weight. The air left her lungs in a soft, choked gasp. “You think you’re special? You’re a hole. My hole. For tonight.”
You didn’t wait. Preparation was for lovers. You grabbed the hem of her short, pleated skirt and yanked it up around her waist, bunching the fabric. Beneath was a scrap of sheer, white lace panties. You hooked your fingers in the side and pulled, not with care, but with a brutal, lateral jerk. The fragile material gave way with a sharp rrrip. She was exposed. Completely bare, shaved smooth, her pussy a neat, pink slit nestled between the soft pale mounds of her thighs. It was already glistening, a betraying slickness coating her inner lips. The scent hit you—expensive soap, the ghost of her perfume, and underneath, the muskier, undeniable, pungent smell of female arousal. Even terrified, even drugged and crying, her body was a traitor.
“Look at that,” you sneered, dragging a rough finger through her folds. They parted with a wet, sticky shlllck. “You’re fucking dripping. Is this your thing? You get off on this? On knowing someone’s gonna force their way into you? You’re a sick, twisted little slut, aren’t you?”
“I’m n-not…” she sobbed, the tears finally coming in earnest, carving clean rivers through the black smudges on her face.
You smeared her own wetness over the small, hard nub of her clit, rubbing in a rough, circular motion. Her back arched off the couch involuntarily, a sharp, broken gasp tearing from her throat. “Ah!”
“Deny it,” you commanded, your voice dropping to a whisper. “I want to hear you lie to my face.”
You positioned yourself, the broad, swollen head of your cock nudging against her entrance. It was hot there, impossibly so, and so fucking tight you couldn’t imagine it yielding. You pushed, just the initial, blunt pressure.
Her whole body went rigid as a board. A guttural, strained sound forced its way through her clenched teeth. “Nnnngh!”
“Open your eyes!” you snarled, slapping your palm down on the leather by her head. The sharp crack made her flinch, her eyelids flying open, wide and white-rimmed with panic. “You watch this. You watch me ruin you.”
You pushed harder. The resistance was intense, her virgin-tight cunt clamping down in a vice-like spasm, refusing the invasion. You leaned your weight into it, a slow, inexorable pressure that made the tendons in your thighs stand out. Her mouth opened in a silent scream, then a ragged, tearing wail broke free, raw and shredded.
“HhhhaaaAAAHHHHH—no, no, stop, it won’t fit, please, it hurts, it HURTS!”
Her legs kicked, her heels scrambling for purchase on the smooth leather, finding none. You grabbed her hips, your fingers digging into the soft flesh hard enough to leave ten perfect, purpling bruises, and you shoved.
The thick, flared head of your cock popped past the tight, clutching ring of her entrance, and she screamed. A raw, animal sound that held no trace of the idol, just pure, unfiltered agony and violation. “FUUUCCK—AAAGGHHH!”
You froze, buried just that first brutal inch inside her. Her inner walls fluttered and spasmed wildly around the invading girth, a hot, wet, living fist trying to crush you. It was obscenely tight. Unbelievably hot. You looked down at where you were joined. Your thick, reddened shaft was stretching her open, her delicate pink lips strained pale around the base. A mix of her slick and a faint, coppery hint of blood smeared your skin.
“God… you’re tight,” you groaned, the pleasure so intense it was a sharp, bright pain in your gut. You dropped your head, panting. “You feel that? That’s me. Inside you. And I’m not even close to halfway.”
You began to move, a shallow, brutal rocking of your hips. Each tiny, grinding thrust forced another choked sound from her throat—a half-sob, half-groan. Her tears flowed freely now, her face a ruined masterpiece of smeared makeup and utter, broken despair.
“You like that?” you taunted, your voice rough. “You like feeling how big I am? Stretching your pretty little idol cunt open for me? I can feel you squeezing me, you greedy bitch. Your body wants it even if your mouth is saying no.”
“I d-don’t… ah! Ah! …please…”
You pulled back almost all the way, watching her stretched entrance cling to your shaft for a wet moment, then slammed forward, burying another impossible inch. Her scream cracked, pitching higher into a shriek. “OH GOD! TOO DEEP! YOU’RE TOO DEEP!”
You did it again. And again. Each thrust was a punishment, a reclamation. The wet, fleshy sound of your hips meeting hers, the sharp smack of skin on skin, filled the room alongside her broken cries. You fucked her like that, with short, piston-like jabs, stretching her a fraction more with each one, until, with one final, grinding, merciless push, you were fully sheathed inside her. Your balls rested tight against the curve of her ass. You were buried to the hilt. She felt impossibly full, stretched to a burning, tearing limit around your entire length. Her stomach, you noted with a dark thrill, had a slight, subtle bulge just above her pubic bone.
You stayed there, throbbing inside her, letting her feel the complete, total invasion. Her chest heaved. Snot mixed with tears on her upper lip. She was muttering incoherently, a stream of “nonononono…” that had lost all meaning.
“Now,” you said, your voice eerily calm. “We really begin.”
You started to fuck her in earnest. No rhythm, no grace. Just raw, driving power. You pulled almost all the way out, watching her stretched, glistening opening cling to your shaft, then powered back in, balls-deep. The force of it jolted her whole body up the couch. Her exposed tits bounced and jiggled with each impact. The sounds were obscene—the wet squelch of your cock plunging into her soaked cunt, the thwap of your thighs slapping against hers, her ragged, screaming exhalations with every drive inward. “Uhn! Uhn! Uhn!”
“You’re raping me!” she shrieked, her hands finally finding some strength to claw weakly at your forearms. “You’re raping my cunt! Get out! Get it out!”
“I am raping you,” you grunted, fucking her harder, your abdominal muscles tightening like cords with the effort. “And your cunt is loving it. It’s sucking me in. Listen to it.” You paused for a second, the only sounds her ragged weeping and the slick, sticky noise of your connection. A thick, wet gshhhllk as you shifted inside her. “It’s begging for more. Tell me you don’t want it. Tell me you’re not the wettest, most willing little rape-slut I’ve ever had.”
She couldn’t answer. A different kind of tension was coiling in her, a treacherous heat that cut through the drug fog and the searing pain. Her hips gave a tiny, involuntary jerk upwards, meeting one of your downstrokes. A broken, shameful moan tore from her lips, low and guttural. “Nnnngh…!”
You saw it. The crack in her resistance. The ultimate betrayal of her own body.
“There it is,” you hissed, a vicious triumph surging through your veins. You changed your angle, leaning over her, pinning her wrists above her head with one hand. Your other hand went to her throat. Not squeezing to cut off air, but applying a dominant, claiming pressure to the sides, your thumb pressing into the hollow of her throat. It made her eyes bulge with a fresh wave of fear—and something else, a submissive, terrifying thrill you could see flickering in the depths. You fucked her deeper like this, your pelvis grinding against her swollen clit with every brutal, bottoming-out plunge.
“You’re gonna come,” you told her, your face inches from hers. You could smell the salt of her tears, the acrid tang of her fear, the cloying sweetness of her perfume. “You’re gonna come on the cock of the man you ruined. And I’m gonna watch your fucking mind break when you do.”
“I won’t… I c-can’t…” she sobbed, but her body was tightening around you, her inner muscles fluttering in frantic, rippling waves that felt like a hot, wet mouth trying to milk you dry.
“You will. Because I say so.” You released her throat and slid your hand between your pounding bodies, your thumb finding her swollen, slippery clit, now protruding and hard as a pebble. You pressed down, hard, and began rubbing in tight, furious, clockwise circles.
Her back arched off the couch violently, her spine bowing like a drawn bow. Her mouth opened in a silent, stunned ‘O’. A guttural, trembling noise started deep in her chest, a building earthquake, and then it erupted. “NnnnnnGGGGKKKHHHHhhhh—!”
It wasn’t a scream of pain. It was a roar of pleasure so intense it bordered on agony. Her cunt convulsed around your cock, a series of brutal, milking spasms that clamped down so tight it stole your breath. Her eyes rolled back, showing the whites. Her entire body seized, trembling uncontrollably. A hot, gushing torrent of fluid erupted from her, not just a trickle, but a splash that soaked your cock, your balls, the leather couch beneath her with a sound like a sighing hissss. It wasn’t just come—it was a squirting orgasm, forced from her by the overwhelming stimulation and psychological surrender.
You didn’t stop. You kept fucking her through it, your thumb still torturing her hypersensitive clit, your cock pistoning into her sopping, clenching hole.
“AAAAHHHH! TOO MUCH! TOO MUCH! STOP, IT HURTS, PLEASE, I CAN’T!” she screamed, her voice hoarse and shredded. The pleasure had tipped into searing, electric overstimulation, a pain-pleasure feedback loop that had her thrashing beneath you, trying to escape the very sensations she’d just climaxed from. Her cries were pure, fragmented panic. “Hahhh—hahhh—no more, no more, no more—ahhhAHHHAHH!”
You laughed, a dark, breathless sound. “We’re not done. We’re just getting started. You have a lot more to pay for.”
You slowed your thrusts, but they were deeper, more grinding, making sure your huge cock dragged against every raw, sensitive nerve inside her, rubbing over a deep, spongy spot that made her jolt with each pass. You leaned down, capturing her mouth in a rough, biting kiss. She tried to turn her head, but you held her still, licking the salt of her tears from her lips before forcing your tongue inside. She whimpered into your mouth, a broken, defeated sound, her own tongue lying limp as you dominated the wet cavity.
When you broke the kiss, you were both panting, strings of saliva connecting your mouths. Her gaze was glassy, distant. The mind break was happening. The proud, cruel idol was shattering, replaced by a used, overstimulated vessel for your revenge. A doll with its strings cut, her body still twitching with the aftershocks of a forced orgasm.
“Good,” you murmured, your hips never stopping their relentless, deep pace. “Now, let’s try the other hole.”
Her eyes, which had begun to drift shut in exhausted overload, snapped open. A new, deeper terror flooded them, cutting through the post-orgasmic haze. “N-no…” It was a whimper, a last vestige of her old self. “Not there…”
“Yes there,” you growled, pulling your slick, glistening cock from her well-used pussy with a wet, sucking pop. The sight of her stretched, gaping entrance, pink and puffy and dripping with her juices and yours, sent a fresh jolt of lust through you. You shifted back, kneeling between her legs. You hooked your hands under her knees and shoved them up towards her shoulders, folding her nearly in half, exposing her completely. Her asshole, a tight, dark pink pucker nestled between the firm, round globes of her ass, winced under the sudden exposure.
“Please,” she begged, fresh tears leaking from the corners of her eyes. “It won’t… you can’t… it’s too big…”
“It’ll fit,” you said, your voice low and certain. You spat into your palm, a crude, thick glob of saliva, and rubbed it over the head of your cock, mixing it with the copious wetness already there. It wasn’t enough. It would never be enough. You reached down, dragging two fingers through the dripping mess between her legs, gathering a slippery mix of her squirt and her natural lubricant. You smeared it roughly over her tight back entrance. “Because I’m gonna make it fit.”
You positioned the blunt, slick head of your cock against that clenched, resistant star. You applied pressure. It didn’t give. You pushed harder, leaning your weight into it. Her whole body went taut, a silent scream on her face.
“Relax, you stupid bitch, or I’ll tear you open,” you snarled, your patience fraying.
She sobbed, a hopeless, broken sound, but some of the tension leaked from her body, a final surrender. You shoved.
The head of your cock breached her, popping past the tight outer ring of muscle with a sickening, wet pop. Her scream was different this time—higher, sharper, a sound of pure, unadulterated violation. “HHHYYYAAAAAGGGHHHH!”
You didn’t pause. You couldn’t. The heat was insane, a tight, fiery grip that made her pussy feel roomy by comparison. You pushed another inch, feeling her inner muscles clench and spasm in frantic, useless resistance. You leaned over her, bringing your face close to hers again. You hooked the fingers of one hand into the corners of her mouth, stretching it into a grotesque, crying clown’s grin.
“Look at me,” you commanded, your voice a harsh whisper. “You look at me while I wreck this ass. You watch what you made me do.”
You pulled your hips back slightly, then slammed forward, burying another thick inch into her impossibly tight channel. The sound she made was a choked, gurgling shriek around your hooked fingers. You fucked her ass like that, with short, brutal jabs, using the grip on her mouth as leverage to drive deeper. Each thrust was a battle, her body fighting the invasion every millimeter of the way. The stretch was obscene, painful, glorious. You could see the strain in her face, the way her eyes threatened to roll back, the cords standing out in her neck.
“Fuck… your ass is even tighter than your cunt,” you grunted, sweat dripping from your brow onto her chest. “Like a fucking vice. Taking my cock like a good little anal slut. Aren’t you?”
She couldn’t speak. She could only make ragged, sobbing sounds around your fingers, her body trembling violently with each penetration.
You established a rhythm, a cruel, pounding pace that rocked her folded body back and forth on the couch. The slap of your flesh against hers was sharper now, drier. The sounds from her ass were wetter, tighter, a desperate shhhllk-shhhllk-shhhllk with each withdrawal and thrust. You felt a different kind of pressure building inside you, a coiling, urgent need. You fucked her harder, deeper, your balls slapping against her soaked, swollen pussy lips with each drive.
“You feel that?” you panted, your own breath coming in ragged gasps now. “You feel me in your guts? I’m so deep in your ass I can feel my own cock through your stomach.” You looked down at her lower belly, seeing the subtle, moving bulge with each of your thrusts. “Look at it. Look at what I’m doing to you.”
Her eyes, glazed and unfocused, drifted down. The sight of the movement under her own skin, the visible proof of your deep invasion, seemed to break something else inside her. A fresh flood of tears, silent this time, streamed down her temples into her hair.
The pressure in your balls tightened, a fierce, burning knot. “You’re gonna take my cum, you understand? I’m gonna fill this tight little ass up until it’s dripping out of you. You’re gonna wear it for days.”
You hooked your fingers deeper in her mouth, pulling her head up slightly as you fucked into her with a final, desperate frenzy. Your rhythm lost all finesse, becoming a frantic, slamming chase for your own release. The heat, the tightness, the sheer, degrading wrongness of it all sent you over the edge.
“FUCK!” you roared, your body locking up as you slammed home one last time, burying yourself to the hilt in her clenching, protesting asshole.
The orgasm ripped through you, violent and consuming. Thick, hot pulses of cum shot deep into her bowels, jet after jet after jet, flooding her. You ground your hips against her, milking every last drop into her depths, feeling her inner muscles fluttering weakly around your shaft as you pumped her full. Your vision swam, your ears roaring with the force of it.
Slowly, the world came back. The sound of your own ragged breathing. The smell of sex and sweat and leather. The feel of her trembling, devastated body beneath you. You pulled your fingers from her mouth, letting her head drop. You stayed buried inside her for a long moment, feeling your cock begin to soften within her incredible tightness.
With a wet, slick sound, you pulled out.
The sight was obscene. Her asshole, stretched wide and puffy, glistened with a mix of your saliva, her lubricant, and now, a thick, pearly white trickle of your cum that began to seep out almost immediately, oozing down onto the dark leather of the couch. Her pussy below was a swollen, well-used mess, glistening and gaping slightly.
You looked down at her face. Her eyes were open, staring at the ceiling. The tears had stopped. Her expression was blank, utterly empty. The mind break was complete. The Wonyoung who had laughed as she ruined your life was gone. In her place was this: a used, broken thing, filled with your cum, leaking it onto a couch in a room where she was supposed to be a star.
You leaned close, your lips almost brushing her ear. Your voice was soft, almost gentle.
A towel drops. Two bodies fall. A morning unravels.
word count: ~10.6k
Characters: Male Reader (OC: Minho) x ITZY Shin Yuna
Intro | Masterlist | Series Index
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A/N: Originally published as 5 separate chapters; now remastered and combined into one continuous scene.
Chapter 2: The Fall
Heat by the pool. A slippery slope.
Her eyes flicked down to the tent rapidly forming in my towel.
Her mouth fell open slightly. I watched her pupils dilate in real-time.
“Oh my god,” she breathed. “Did you - are you hard? From watching me?”
The accusation in her voice was undercut by the way her tongue darted out to wet her lips.
“I -” My voice came out rougher than intended. “I wasn’t watching, I just -”
“You were TOTALLY watching!” But she was smiling now. That trademark Yuna confidence - the same one that had millions of people glued to their screens watching her fancams, begging for more - was flooding back in, replacing the flustered panic from seconds ago. Except this time, it wasn’t filtered through a phone screen. It was right here, soaking wet and naked and absolutely lethal.
She stood up fully - all legs and wet skin and that ridiculously expensive bikini barely containing anything. Up close, her body was even more insane. Long, toned legs that seemed to go on forever. A tiny waist flaring into surprisingly full hips. Her small tits pushed against the bikini top, nipples clearly visible through the thin black fabric. The sash clung to her curves, somehow emphasizing everything.
“Oh my god, you perv,” she said, taking a step closer. Water droplets rolled down her neck, disappearing between her breasts. “How long were you standing there?”
“Yuna -”
“No no no, I’m genuinely curious.” Another step. I could smell the ocean salt on her skin, mixed with something warmer. Muskier. “Because if you JUST got here, okay, whatever. But if you were like... watching me for a while...”
She was close now. Close enough that I could see the goosebumps on her arms despite the heat, the way her chest rose and fell with each breath.
“...then that’s kind of insane, right? That’s like, criminally horny behavior. Watching your girlfriend’s maknae finger herself and getting hard about it?”
“She’s not my -” I started, but the words caught in my throat.
Yuna rolled those humongous puppy eyes.
“I should go -” I tried to cover myself with the towel, stammering. “I’m just heading to - Yeji locked me out of the bathroom because she needs to get to her Pilates class and -”
“You should,” she agreed, but she was still advancing. “Unnie would literally kill you. Like, actual murder. Girlfriend or not.”
Her eyes dropped to the tent in my towel again. Lingered.
“But also...” Her voice dropped, playful and dangerous. “You’re still here.”
She took one more step, close enough now that if I reached out, I could touch her.
“Tell me something, oppa.” She tilted her head, and something in her expression shifted - that sly, foxy calculation I’d seen on stage a hundred times. “When you heard me just now... getting myself off...” Her voice dropped lower, more suggestive. “Did it turn you on?”
She gestured at her body - the wet bikini, the long legs, everything on display.
“You’re telling me you never had your hand wrapped around -”
Her fingers reached out, lightning quick, and brushed against the tent in my towel.
The touch - even through fabric - sent a jolt through me. My body betrayed me completely. My cock jerked hard against the towel, and the movement was enough to loosen the tuck I’d made at my waist.
The towel fell.
It dropped to the tiles with a wet slap, and suddenly I was standing there completely exposed - my cock springing up, thick and still glazed with the mixture of mine and Yeji’s cum, evidence of our morning devotion painted across every inch.
Yuna’s breath caught audibly. Her eyes went wide as saucers, pupils blown so dark they swallowed the brown, her gaze locked onto my cock like a predator spotting prey.
I watched her throat work as she swallowed. Hard.
She took an unconscious step closer, and I saw the exact moment her brain registered what she was seeing - not just size, but evidence. The glossy sheen wasn’t sweat. Her eyes traced the dried streaks along my shaft, the way it caught the sunlight, still fresh enough to glisten.
“Holy shit,” she breathed, her voice barely a whisper, tinged with genuine shock.
Her cheeks and ears flushed a deep crimson that spread down her neck - stark contrast to her earlier confidence, the physical evidence of genuine fluster battling with rapidly mounting arousal. The blush deepened as her eyes traced every detail, her breath quickening.
Her hand moved to her own throat, fingers pressing there like she was imagining it. Then lower, absently grazing her collarbone. Her nipples visibly hardened further through the thin bikini fabric, betraying how quickly embarrassment was losing ground to hunger.
“Unnie never mentioned you were packing like that.” A pause, her eyes widening further as another realization hit. “Actually, she basically never mentions you at all.”
The way she said it made it sound like Yeji had been hoarding something valuable. Something Yuna suddenly wanted to taste.
Something flickered across her face - too quick to fully name. Hurt? Curiosity? The faintest shadow of why would she hide this from me?
But it vanished as fast as it appeared, replaced by that calculating look I’d seen her use on stage when she knew the camera was on her. Her tongue swept across her bottom lip.
Her expression shifted as understanding dawned. “Wait. THAT’S why she keeps you around.” A breathless laugh, but there was an edge to it now - something competitive, almost vindictive. “You’re not her boyfriend - you must be her dick appointment. Her personal premium subscription.”
I saw her eyes trace every detail - the thick shaft, the prominent veins, the way the head glistened with dried cum. Her pupils dilated even further, her breath quickened, and I watched in real-time as arousal replaced everything else.
The sound of the front door slamming echoed across the villa, followed by a car engine starting. Yeji’s manager, picking her up for class. We were alone now. Completely, utterly alone.
And that’s when I saw it - the exact moment an intrusive thought crossed Yuna’s mind. Her expression shifted from shocked to calculating, a sly, foxy grin spreading across her face.
“So...” She looked up from my cock to meet my eyes. “You’re walking around with THAT, and you got hard looking at me.” Her tone was mocking, teasing, but laced with raw desire. “And here I thought unnie was hiding some like, casual situationship or whatever. But no wonder she keeps coming back to you when half the industry’s in her DMs. Like, I GET it now.”
She took a step toward me, barefoot, her hips swaying, every inch the sultry, seductive siren that had driven countless men to their knees. The defensive panic had completely evaporated, replaced by something more familiar. That Yuna confidence in full force.
The wet bikini clung to every curve - all legs and wet skin and that ridiculously expensive three-piece barely containing anything. The chain straps glinted in the sunlight. Her nipples were hard as diamonds, poking through the thin fabric.
“You’ve jerked off to me before, right? Like, actually stroked this cock -” She gestured at it with zero shame, “ - thinking about fucking me?” She tilted her head, eyes glinting with something between amusement and hunger. “Come on, oppa. Be honest. All those fancams with millions of views? The ones where I’m doing body rolls in that tiny skirt, or when I’m on the floor with my legs spread?”
She ran her hands down her own body - over her tits, her waist, her hips - putting herself on display.
“Because like... a LOT of guys have wanted to know what that looks like up close.” Her smile turned wicked. “Backup dancers, producers, fans who got lucky. They all watched me on stage and then got to find out if I’m as good off it.” She bit her lip. “And I am, by the way. I’m really, really good.”
She took another step closer, voice dropping.
“So I’m just wondering if you ever thought about it. If you ever watched me perform and imagined what I’d look like under you? What I’d sound like moaning your name?” Her eyes flickered with something vulnerable beneath the bravado. “What it’d feel like to shove this fat cock inside me and make me scream?”
A pause. Her confidence wavered just slightly.
“Because I need to know if I’ve been in your head at all. If you wanted me even a little bit.” Her tongue darted out to wet her lips. “Tell me I’m not the only one who’s been thinking about this.”
“Yuna, I -” I tried to protest, but my voice cracked.
She laughed, a sultry, knowing sound. “Don’t even fake innocence. Your dick is literally snitching on you.” Her eyes never left my cock, which was now fully erect, standing at attention despite having just painted Yeji with three loads just minutes ago.
“You know what’s actually insane? I’ve been SO worked up all morning - literally climbing the walls - and then I finally get a moment to myself by the pool and you CATCH me.” She pouted theatrically, but her eyes remained sharp. Calculating. “And then I come back here and hear you two going at it like you’re filming for OnlyFans. Like, I’m happy for unnie, truly, but oh my GOD.”
She was advancing on me now, each step deliberate, her body language screaming dominance despite her earlier vulnerability when I’d caught her. Water droplets still clung to her skin, rolling down her neck, her collarbone, disappearing between her breasts. I could smell the ocean salt mixed with something warmer. Muskier. Her arousal.
“There I am, walking around with this needy pussy -” She touched herself briefly through the bikini bottoms, almost absently. “ - nobody to help me out. Meanwhile unnie’s upstairs getting her brains fucked out. Kind of unfair, don’t you think?”
“I think it’s only fair,” she continued, her voice a sultry whisper as she invaded my space, so close I could feel the heat radiating off her body, “that I get to try unnie’s favorite toy. Just for a bit. What do you think?”
“Yuna, we shouldn’t -” I took a step back, my mind screaming loyalty to Yeji even as my cock throbbed with need. “Yeji and I - we have a thing, and I don’t -”
“Oh, come on,” Yuna interrupted, rolling her eyes. “Unnie goes through guys like they’re limited edition. Have you SEEN her Kakao? Her Instagram DMs? She probably hooked up with someone at that industry party last week.” She licked her lips. “Besides... look at you. You’re already rock hard for me. Your body’s already made the choice.”
Before I could protest further, she closed the distance. Her hand came up to cup my face, soft and warm, and she leaned in, her lips crashing against mine in a deep, hungry French kiss. Her tongue invaded my mouth, aggressive and demanding, tasting faintly of salt and something sweet.
She pressed her body against mine, and I felt my cock, still slick with cum, pressing into the damp fabric of her bikini bottoms. The pressure made her gasp into my mouth, and then - fuck - my cock slipped through the gap between her thighs, emerging at the other end beneath her tight, perfect ass.
Her thighs clamped around my shaft, soft yet firm, squeezing me as she ground forward. I could feel her lips through the soaked fabric, her heat radiating against my cock. Her small, perky tits pressed against my chest, and I could see the streak of her own pussy juice glistening across her cleavage, mixing with the seawater and sweat.
Her other hand reached down, wrapping around the base of my cock where it protruded from between her thighs, her fingers slick and sure.
“Yuna -” I gasped, breaking the kiss, trying to take a step back to create distance, to think, to -
But I didn’t realize I’d backed all the way to the edge of the pool.
My foot found nothing but air, and I felt myself falling backward, arms windmilling.
Everything slowed - that horrible drawn-out moment where you realize you’ve fucked up but momentum’s already decided your fate.
Just as I began to tip backward, Yuna’s hand closed fully around the base of my cock, her grip instinctive. The sudden backward motion lifted my cock upward, and because her hand was locked on and my shaft was sandwiched between her thighs, the upward force literally lifted her off the ground.
Her eyes went wide, a yelp of surprise escaping her lips as her feet left the terrace. The sudden pressure on her pussy lips through the bikini, combined with being yanked forward, made her gasp and moan simultaneously. Her other hand, which had been on my face, shot to the back of my neck for balance, her nails digging in.
We fell together, a tangle of limbs and lust, hitting the pool with a massive splash that sent water cascading over the edge. The pool chair she’d been sitting on earlier teetered dangerously, saved only by Yuna’s foot catching it mid-fall and kicking it back.
We plunged beneath the surface, the cool water a shocking contrast to the heat of our bodies. I felt her bikini top come loose, her hand still gripping my cock, our bodies intertwined in the churning water.
Chapter 3: Submerged in Sin
Underwater and under pressure. Desire that drowns reason.
We surfaced from the pool, water cascading off our bodies, and I was still disoriented - from the fall, from the shock, from the sheer insanity of the situation. But Yuna wasn’t disoriented at all. She was on me in a flash, her wet body pressing against mine, her lips crashing onto my mouth with desperate hunger. My cock, still rock-hard despite everything, poked against her pubic bone beneath the surface, and she moaned into the kiss, grinding against it.
“Mmm,” she hummed against my lips. “I love how that feels.”
“Yuna - wait -” I tried to break away, tried to summon some semblance of loyalty to Yeji, but Yuna just smiled against my mouth, her eyes glinting with mischief.
She pressed a single finger to my lips, silencing me. Her expression said trust me.
Then she disappeared beneath the water like a mermaid diving for treasure.
And oh god, the treasure she found.
This is really happening. I’m letting Yeji’s maknae suck my dick in a pool while Yeji’s at Pilates. My life choices are -
I felt her lips - warm, wet, impossibly soft - envelop the head of my cock, and every coherent thought evacuated my brain. Her mouth was heaven. She started slow, her tongue swirling around the sensitive tip, lapping up the remnants of my earlier cum and Yeji’s juices like it was her favorite husik. Then she took me deeper, her lips forming a perfect seal as she slid down my shaft inch by glorious inch.
The sensation was indescribable. Sure, Yeji gave head sometimes - she’d practiced it obsessively during our trainee days, treating it like vocal training: methodical, perfecting breath control, studying technique with Type-A precision. But it was functional, clinical even - exercises that happened to help both her throat control and my stress relief, not something she did for pleasure. And she’d made it abundantly clear over the years that she much preferred being on the receiving end, demanding her pussy be worshipped rather than the other way around. I’d never minded. With Yeji, I got everything else - the vulnerability she showed no one, the way she’d grip my hand after, the soft confession in her sleep-roughened voice. But that wasn’t something I could think about right now. Not with Yuna’s tongue doing... that.
Because Yuna was a fucking artist. Her tongue did things I didn’t know were possible, flicking along the underside of my shaft, tracing the prominent vein, then flattening to massage the entire length as she bobbed up and down. She hollowed her cheeks, creating suction that made my knees weak, and then she’d relax, letting me slide deeper into her throat without a hint of gagging.
My hands shot to her head beneath the water, fingers tangling in her soaked hair, and I couldn’t help but buck my hips forward. She took it all, adjusting her angle to let me fuck her mouth, her hands gripping my thighs for balance.
She surfaced after what felt like an eternity, gasping for air, her face breaking through the water in an image that would be burned into my brain forever: lips swollen and glistening, eyes half-lidded with lust, water streaming down her flushed cheeks. Somewhere in the rational part of my brain that was still functioning, I registered that this was Yuna - the girl who called Yeji ‘unnie,’ who’d probably heard us through the walls, who was looking at me right now like I was prey she’d been hunting. That should have scared me. Instead - she looked like a fucking siren, and I was completely under her spell.
The sun beat down on us, turning the pool water into liquid diamonds. I could hear nothing but her breathing, the gentle lap of water against tiles, and the distant crash of ocean waves.
“Where -” I gasped, barely able to form words. “Where the fuck did you learn to do that?”
She grinned, catching her breath, water droplets falling from her chin. “What, that?” A teasing glint in her eyes. “You liked it?”
“That’s - that’s not an answer -”
But before I could press further, she dove back under.
This time, she took me even deeper, her nose pressing against my pelvis as she deepthroated me with ease. Her tongue worked magic, and I felt her hum around my shaft, the vibrations sending shockwaves through my body. She came up for air again, that same devastatingly hot expression on her face - mascara slightly smudged, lips swollen, chest heaving - and then went back down, establishing a rhythm: submerge, suck, surface, repeat.
Each time she came up, I got a glimpse of pure debauchery: her small, perky tits now fully exposed, the bikini top lost somewhere in the pool, nipples hard as diamonds, water droplets catching the sunlight, her face a mask of focused pleasure.
“Seriously,” I managed when she surfaced again. “Where did you -”
“Oh my god, so needy.” She licked her lips, grinning. “Fine, I’ll give you my origin story. But you have to earn the rest.” Then she dove back under.
I gave in. Completely, utterly gave in. I started thrusting my hips to meet her mouth, fucking her face beneath the water, and I felt my fourth orgasm of the day building - a deep, primal heat coiling in my balls.
Yuna felt it too. She resurfaced one more time, pulling off my cock with an obscene pop, and her eyes sparkled with sadistic glee.
“Nuh-uh,” she said, pulling back with that wicked grin. “You don’t get to cum yet.” She wrapped her hand around my shaft, squeezing. “I need to hear you say it first. That you want me. That you’ve been thinking about fucking me.” Her eyes gleamed. “Beg a little. It’s hot.”
Of course she wanted me to beg. Because that’s what this was really about, wasn’t it? Not just getting off - she could’ve done that with any of the industry contacts she’d casually mentioned. This was about making me choose her over Yeji, even if just for a moment. Making me admit it out loud.
“Yuna -” I groaned, my cock twitching desperately in her grip.
She silenced me by jamming my shaft between her thighs again, squeezing them together. The pressure was exquisite, and she started grinding backward and forward, her pussy lips dragging along the top of my cock. Then, with one hand, she reached down and untied her bikini bottoms. The sash that had been clinging to her torso floated to the surface, and she pulled the bottoms out from behind with a smooth jerk.
The sensation of the fabric slipping out, dragging roughly between my cock and her pussy, was almost too much. And then - suddenly - I felt her bare lips on my shaft, hot and slick, no barrier between us.
“Fuck - Yuna -” I tried to protest, but she stuffed the soaked bikini bottoms into my mouth, silencing me just like I’d done to Yeji earlier.
“Shh,” she whispered, grinning. “Your turn.”
She wrapped one arm around my neck for balance, and with her other hand, she guided mine to her bare breast. My palm cupped the soft, perky flesh - small but perfectly formed, high and proud, with a hard, sensitive nipple that pebbled under my touch. My instincts took over, and I squeezed, kneaded, pinched, drawing soft gasps and moans from her lips.
All the while, she kept grinding, her hand on my cock ensuring it stayed between her thighs, pressing against her lips but never quite slipping inside. It was torture. Pure, exquisite torture. I felt the tip catch on her entrance with every thrust, so close I could feel her heat, her wetness, but she wouldn’t let me in.
The midday heat made everything feel surreal - her wet skin sliding against mine, the chlorine smell mixing with her arousal, the way the water refracted light across her body in dancing patterns.
I should have stopped her. Should have pulled away, found that shower, called Yeji and confessed everything. Instead, I stood there in the pool while Yeji’s dongsaeng gave me her sexual resume, each revelation simultaneously making me harder and making me a worse person. The math wasn’t mathing, but my dick had stopped caring about logic somewhere around the third underwater deepthroat.
“You wanna know where I learned that?” she asked breathlessly, grinding against me. “Okay so - mmm, fuck - first world tour, right? There was this Australian backup dancer and he had this ACCENT -”
She paused, adjusting the angle so my cock pressed directly against her clit, and shuddered.
“Oh god, right there - anyway, he was insanely hot and I basically dragged him into the tour bus bathroom after the Sydney show and was like, teach me everything.”
She demonstrated by opening her mouth, miming deepthroating. “Just let him fuck my throat over and over until I figured out the breathing thing. The angles. All of it. It was like a masterclass except way sluttier and I literally couldn’t talk the next day.”
She giggled breathlessly. “Worth it though.”
I groaned around the fabric in my mouth, my hips bucking involuntarily.
“Then there was this producer in LA - ahh, fuck -” Her voice hitched as I pinched her nipple. “He was like, old as hell but actually knew what he was doing? He taught me the humming trick. You know, vibrations and shit.” She grinned wickedly. “Made him cum in like two minutes and he looked at me like I was a wizard. I felt SO powerful.”
She leaned in, her lips brushing my ear. “And then in New York, during our US leg -” She giggled, the sound breathless and dirty. “Found this cute fan, pulled him backstage, and basically used him as practice. Over and over. I love it, you know? The control. The way a guy’s whole body goes stiff when you take him deep. The way he looks at you after like you just blew his mind and his dick.”
Every time she sensed I was about to cum - my body tensing, my muffled groans growing louder - she’d suddenly stop or slow down, blue-balling me with expert precision. I lost count of how many times she did it. She was torturing me. And the worst part? I could see it in her eyes every time she stopped - that flash of satisfaction, like she was conducting an experiment and I was giving her exactly the data she wanted. How far could she push Yeji’s ‘secret boyfriend’ before he broke? Turns out: pretty fucking far. My balls felt like they were about to explode, swollen and aching, pressure building to catastrophic levels. My eyes widened in desperation, and whatever thin thread of self-control I’d been clinging to - the part that remembered Yeji, loyalty, consequences - snapped completely. I stopped being a person who made choices and became pure need.
I roughly grabbed her hips, my grip bruising, and started thrusting hard, surprising her. Her eyes went wide.
“Oh - fuck, okay, someone’s -” she gasped, but I was beyond words.
The bikini bottoms fell out of my mouth as I gasped, “Yuna - I can’t - I’m gonna -”
She felt it too, the moment my body gave up all pretense of control. In one fluid motion, she slipped beneath the water, her mouth enveloping my cock just as I exploded.
I came hard. Harder than I’d ever come in my life. It felt like my entire soul was being sucked out through my cock, rope after thick rope of cum shooting into her waiting mouth. I saw stars, actual fucking stars, my vision whiting out as my orgasm ripped through me. I was vaguely aware of my hands gripping the edge of the pool for balance, my legs shaking, my voice echoing across the villa in a guttural roar.
When she finally surfaced, she was an image of pure debauchery. Her hair was plastered to her face, her lips swollen and red, and she opened her mouth to show me the pool of my cum resting on her tongue. It was obscene, filthy, and the hottest thing I’d ever seen. She let it slowly drip from her mouth onto her chest, the white mixing with the water and trickling down between her tits, before she closed her mouth and swallowed, her throat bobbing as she took every drop.
“Holy shit,” I gasped, thoroughly impressed, aroused, and completely drained. “That was... fuck.”
The post-nut clarity hit like a freight train. What the fuck had I just done? I’d let Yuna - Yeji’s groupmate, her dongsaeng, someone who lived in the same villa - suck me off in broad daylight. And the worst part? I’d loved every second. That realization should have sent me running.
“I need to... I should probably go take that shower now.”
But Yuna wasn’t done. Not even close. She swam closer, her eyes dark with hunger, her body still trembling with pent-up need.
“Shower?” She laughed, low and dangerous. “We’re not even close to done, Minho.” Her hand found my cock again, already starting to stir despite having just exploded. “I didn’t cum yet. And I’m literally dying to have my brains fucked out.”
She pressed against me, her bare pussy rubbing against my thigh. “So no. You’re not going anywhere.”
I should have said no. Should have drawn a line, preserved whatever microscopic scrap of loyalty I had left. But her hand was already wrapped around my cock, and my body was already responding, and the truth I didn’t want to admit was that she was right. We weren’t done. Not even close. And I was going to let this happen. Again.
Chapter 4: The Tides That Turn
Consequences arrive wearing a Maknae’s face.
I tried to act like I’d had enough - like I was some kind of gentleman who knew when to walk away. But the truth? There was nothing I wanted more than to jam my cock into Yuna’s burning pussy and fuck her until we both passed out or the sun went down, whichever came first. Hell, maybe both would happen simultaneously. My body was already making that decision for me, my cock twitching back to life despite having just blown what felt like my entire genetic lineage into her mouth.
I started to push away from her, tried to muster some semblance of self-control, but my feral urges snapped me back like a rubber band. I lunged forward, roughly grabbing her by that perfect, tight ass, making her squeal in surprise as I lifted her naked body onto the edge of the pool. Water splashed everywhere, cascading over the tiles as I positioned her exactly where I wanted her.
Another line crossed. Another point of no return. At this rate, there wouldn’t be anything left to salvage when Yeji came back.
“Minho - wait, what are you -”
But she didn’t finish the sentence because she realized exactly what I was doing. I was eye level with her pussy, and for the first time, I got to really study it.
Yuna’s pussy was a work of art - completely different from Yeji’s. Where Yeji’s was a neat, bikini-trimmed mound with full, meaty lips that gripped like a vise, Yuna’s was bare, smooth as silk, with delicate, pale pink lips that were slightly swollen from arousal. Her inner lips were small and tucked in, a shy little slit that barely peeked out. But what really caught my attention was how wet she was - not just damp, but absolutely dripping, her arousal glistening on her thighs, mixing with the pool water. Her clit was a small, prominent pearl, already engorged and begging for attention.
She caught me staring and slowly, deliberately, widened her legs, an invitation and a challenge all at once.
“Like what you see?” she teased, her voice breathy. “I mean, you’re just... staring. Kind of creepy but also kind of hot?”
I didn’t answer. I just pressed my nose against her mound, inhaling her scent - clean, slightly sweet, with an underlying musk that made my mouth water. Then I dove in.
The first lick was exploratory, my tongue dragging slowly from her entrance to her clit, and the taste hit me like a drug. Yuna tasted different from Yeji too - less earthy, more delicate, almost honey-sweet with a hint of salt from the ocean. Her pussy was softer, more yielding, and as I licked deeper, I felt her walls flutter against my tongue.
Yeji had taught me well. Years of being her personal pussy-worshiper had turned me into a fucking expert. I started with broad, flat strokes, licking up every drop of her arousal, then focused on her clit, flicking it with the tip of my tongue in quick, rhythmic bursts. She gasped, her hips jerking forward, and I grinned against her pussy.
I switched tactics, sucking her clit into my mouth and rolling it gently between my lips while my fingers found her entrance. I slid two inside, curling them upward to find that spongy spot on her front wall, and when I hit it, Yuna screamed.
“Oh my god - fuck -” Her voice pitched high. “Minho - where did you -”
She couldn’t finish the thought because I was relentless. I added a third finger, stretching her open while my tongue traced figure-eights around her clit. I alternated between sucking, licking, and gentle nibbling, each technique pulling different sounds from her throat - gasps, moans, sharp inhales. Her pussy was clenching around my fingers, so wet that I could hear the obscene squelching sounds every time I thrust.
“Holy shit -” she gasped, her legs trembling. “I’ve literally never - ohh fuck - been eaten out this good before!” Her hand flew to my hair. “Like, where the fuck did you learn to do this? Did you watch tutorials or something? Because this is - ahh - insane!”
I didn’t answer. I was too busy finger-fucking her while my mouth worked her clit, and honestly, I was too proud of myself to stop and gloat. Some pathetic part of me needed to prove I was better than every Australian dancer, every LA producer, every backstage groupie she’d casually mentioned. Like winning this competition would somehow make the betrayal worth it. I felt like I was one-upping every guy she’d ever been with, and the thought made my cock rock-hard again, precum leaking into the pool.
Yuna’s screams echoed through the villa, bouncing off the walls. She threw her head back, one hand tangling in my hair and shoving my face harder against her mound, the other supporting her leaned-back torso on the paved stones. She was desperately trying to get my tongue deeper, her hips rocking against my face in frantic, unconscious thrusts.
“Oh god, oh fuck, oh -” She was babbling now, words spilling out between moans. “This is gonna trend on my body’s personal Twitter because I’m - fuck - I’m gonna cum so hard -”
Her thighs clamped around my head like a vice.
“Holy shit - I’m literally - fuck, I can’t -” The words dissolved into a scream, as if it wasn’t already painfully obvious what was happening.
Her entire body tensed, her legs locking around my head, and then she shattered. Her pussy clamped down on my fingers in rhythmic pulses, her back arching off the pool edge, her scream reaching a pitch that could probably shatter glass. And then she squirted - a gush of clear, warm fluid spraying across my face, drenching me as her orgasm ripped through her.
I kept going, riding out her climax, my tongue and fingers coaxing every last spasm from her trembling body. Her legs shook violently, her toes curled so hard they probably cramped, and her eyes rolled back in her head as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over her. Her stomach muscles contracted visibly, her small tits bouncing with each convulsion, and she let out these broken, breathless sobs that were somehow the hottest sounds I’d ever heard.
When it finally subsided, she collapsed back onto the stones, panting, her chest heaving, her entire body glistening with sweat and water. Her pussy was still twitching, aftershocks rolling through her.
“That’s -” she gasped, trying to catch her breath. “That’s never happened before. The squirting thing. Like, never.” She propped herself up slightly, looking down at me with wide eyes. “I’ve seen it in porn but I thought it was fake? Or like, only certain girls can do it?” She laughed breathlessly. “What the fuck. Seriously, where did you learn that?”
I smirked, wiping her juices off my face with the back of my hand. “You’re not the only one with tricks.”
She stared at me, the infamous siren who could conquer any man, reduced to a quivering, breathless wreck. I felt the tides turning, a dominating urge surging through me. I grabbed her by the neck - not hard, but firm - and pulled her toward me, my mouth brushing against her neck. She shuddered, a soft moan escaping her lips.
“Fuck,” she whimpered. “That’s - oh, that’s my spot -”
“You like that?” I whispered against her ear, my breath hot on her skin. “Want to know my secret?”
“Yes -” she breathed, her hand moving between her legs, furiously rubbing her still-pulsating clit. “Tell me.”
“Yeji,” I murmured, my teeth grazing her earlobe. “She taught me everything. How to worship pussy like it’s a religion. How to make a woman scream my name.” I licked up her neck slowly. “Every trick, every technique - years of practice. All from her.”
And there it was - weaponizing the most intimate parts of my relationship with Yeji to make her dongsaeng cum harder. Using years of trust and vulnerability as foreplay. I’d officially hit rock bottom, and apparently rock bottom had a sub-basement.
Yuna moaned, her fingers working faster as she imagined it - me and Yeji, tangled together, her teaching me, training me. “Fuck, that’s -” Her breathing quickened. “That’s so hot. Unnie’s been keeping you as her personal - ahh - secret weapon this whole time.”
Her juices mixed with the puddle of water beneath her, and I could tell she was about to cum again just from the mental image and her own fingers.
But my moment of dominance didn’t last long. Yuna recovered faster than I expected, that confident, seductive grin returning to her face even as her legs still trembled.
Of course she did. Because that’s who Yuna was - the girl who could get facefucked into a squirting orgasm and be back in control sixty seconds later. I’d been an idiot to think I’d actually gained the upper hand. She’d just let me borrow it for a minute.
“Okay, okay,” she said, pushing me away gently, her voice still breathy but gaining strength. “Your mouth game is literally S-tier. Like, hall of fame level.” She bit her lip, eyeing my erection. “But I need to know what you can do with that big boy now.”
She slipped back into the water, turning her back to me, her perfect ass pressing against my rock-hard cock. She glanced over her shoulder, her eyes dark with hunger, that siren look creeping back.
“Come on, Minho,” she beckoned, arching her back and pushing her ass higher, the curve of her spine absolutely sinful. “Drive me crazy. Make me lose my mind. Show me why unnie keeps you locked down like limited edition merch.”
She reached back, her hand wrapping around my shaft, stroking slowly. “Prove to me why Yeji’s so obsessed with this cock that she won’t let anyone else near it.”
Her grip tightened slightly. “But like, don’t get cocky yet.” That wicked grin widened. “I’ve had a LOT of dick, oppa. All those industry boys, that one time with three guys from the company after MAMA - which was insane by the way.” She positioned my tip against her entrance, just barely touching. “You’ve got some serious competition. Better make it memorable.”
Chapter 5: The Siren’s Surrender
Poolside chaos. When want becomes need becomes ruin.
I positioned myself behind Yuna, my cock throbbing with desperate need as I pressed the tip against her entrance. The heat radiating from her pussy was intoxicating. I could feel her lips beginning to part around my head, yielding to the pressure -
But then she reached between her legs, grabbed my cock with a firm grip, and yanked it downward.
The sudden movement threw me completely off balance. I fell forward, my cock sliding along the outside of her pussy instead of inside, and my pelvis collided with her ass with a resounding CLAP that echoed across the terrace. Water flew everywhere, splashing against the pool tiles and her back.
“Nu-uh,” she said with a breathy laugh, looking back at me over her shoulder. That siren look was back in her eyes. “Not yet.”
“Yuna -” I groaned, trying to angle my hips, but her hand was still wrapped around my shaft, keeping me exactly where she wanted me - which was anywhere but inside her.
“You haven’t begged yet,” she said, arching her back even more, that playful edge in her voice. The curve of her spine was sinful, her ass pushing higher, presenting herself while simultaneously denying me. “Come on, oppa. Tell me what you want.”
“You know what I want -”
“Yeah, but I wanna HEAR it.” Her grip tightened, stroking once slowly. “Say you want to fuck me. That you want to shove this thick cock inside me.” Her grin widened. “Use your words.”
She squeezed for emphasis, making me hiss through my teeth.
“Because like... do you actually want this?” Her voice dropped, more intimate now. “Want to know what all those other guys felt?” A pause. “Because if you don’t say it, you’re literally gonna be the only one who didn’t get to fuck me. How sad would that be?”
It was psychological warfare, and she was winning. I pulled back, trying to angle my cock up, to slip past her defenses, but she adjusted her grip instantly, keeping me on the edge of madness. I wrapped one arm around her waist for leverage, my other hand cupping her breast, squeezing hard, trying to distract her or overpower her coordination.
She just moaned, arching even more. “Mmm, that’s nice. But you’re still not inside me.”
“Come on, Minho.” Her free hand found mine on her breast, guiding me to pinch her nipple. “Just admit it. You’ve thought about this, right? About me?”
I tried to thrust forward. She adjusted her angle, my cock sliding along her lips but not in.
“All those times you watched our performances,” she continued, slightly breathless now from her own teasing. “Did you ever imagine this? Me bent over for you?”
“Yuna - fuck -”
“What about when you were with unnie?” Her voice got quieter, more dangerous. “Did you ever close your eyes and think about me instead? When you came inside her, did you ever picture my face?”
The mention of Yeji hit like cold water, but it mixed with the building desperation in my body. The image she was painting - forbidden, wrong, and exactly what some dark part of me had fantasized about.
“Yes!” The word exploded out of me, echoing across the villa. “Yes, okay? I’ve thought about you!” My hips bucked involuntarily. “Every time I saw you on stage, every time you walked around in those shorts that showed everything - I wanted you! I wanted to fuck you! Now please -”
The moment I said it, her hand released my cock.
I lunged forward and speared into her pussy with the force of a man possessed, burying myself to the hilt in one brutal thrust. It felt like I could split mountains with that momentum.
“FUCK!” Yuna screamed, her voice cracking, breaking on the word as I filled her completely.
Her pussy was different from Yeji’s - where Yeji was a calculated vice grip that squeezed every inch with almost intimidating precision, Yuna was softer, wetter, more yielding but still incredibly tight. Her walls fluttered around me, adjusting to my size, and the heat was overwhelming. She was slick with arousal, making every movement smooth and effortless, but the sensation was no less intense. If Yeji’s pussy was a weapon designed to dominate, Yuna’s was a sensual trap, designed to lure you in and never let go.
I pulled back slowly, feeling every ridge and fold, then slammed back in. Yuna gasped, her back arching further. I established a relentless rhythm, my hips pistoning as I fucked her standing doggy-style in the pool. Water sloshed around us with each thrust, splashing over the edge, the sound mixing with skin slapping against skin and Yuna’s increasingly desperate moans.
The sun had shifted higher now, turning the terrace into an oven. Sweat mixed with pool water, making our bodies slide together with each thrust. The smell of chlorine and sex hung heavy in the air.
“Oh god -” she gasped, her hands gripping the pool edge for stability. “Yes - fuck - just like that -”
I grabbed her hips harder, pulling her back to meet my thrusts. Each impact sent ripples through her ass, the perfect bounce that I couldn’t tear my eyes away from.
“Harder -” she breathed, then louder: “Harder!”
I obliged, increasing the force, the pace. The pool water churned around us.
“Oh my god -” She was talking between moans now, her voice high and broken. “I can’t - this is -” A sharp gasp as I hit something deep. “Okay the last time I got fucked this good was - ahh - Sydney maybe? That dancer?”
She tried to look back at me, her face flushed. “But like - fuck - he wasn’t this big - you’re literally - ahh - ruining me for everyone else -”
“Fuck’s sake, Yuna,” I grunted, the question coming out more aggressive than I intended. “How many guys have you fucked?”
“I - oh god -” She tried to think, but I didn’t slow down. “Like - ahh - ninety? Maybe a hundred?” Her voice pitched higher as I hit a particularly deep angle. “I literally stopped counting after North America because it got too complicated -”
“A hundred?” Something primal surged in me. I slammed into her harder, making her yelp. “And I’m better than all of them?”
“Yes -” It came out as a whimper. “Fuck yes - you’re - oh my god - you’re so much better - you’re ruining me -”
She was trying to sound confident, trying to maintain that seductress persona, but every word was broken by gasps and moans. Her body was betraying her, submitting to me in a way I could tell she wasn’t used to.
I fucked her for what felt like an eternity, my stamina somehow holding despite this being my fifth round of the day. The angle was perfect, letting me go deep, hitting spots that made her legs tremble and her voice break into these high, desperate sounds.
Finally, she reached back, her hand finding my hip, stopping me mid-thrust.
“Wait -” she panted, her whole body heaving. “I need - change positions -”
She pushed forward, and my cock slipped out of her pussy with an obscene pop. A large bubble of trapped air followed, surfacing with a wet burst that would’ve been funny if we weren’t both so far gone. Our mixed fluids leaked into the pool, cloudy ribbons swirling in the clear water.
Yuna pulled herself out of the pool, water streaming off her lithe body, cascading down those impossibly long legs. Chlorine and sex hung thick in the air. She climbed onto the lounge chair with feline grace, then laid back, her legs spreading wide in invitation.
She looked like a goddess sprawled on that lounge chair - tan skin glistening, legs spread wide, chest heaving. The contrast of her delicate features and the absolute debauchery of her expression was intoxicating.
I got another perfect view of her pussy - swollen, pink, gaping slightly from my fucking. Her lips were puffy, glistening with arousal, and below it, her tight, puckered asshole remained untouched, a forbidden promise for another time.
“Come here,” she breathed, one hand trailing down her stomach to spread herself open for me. “I want to feel you deeper.”
I followed her like a man possessed, water dripping from my body as I positioned myself over her. I squatted down, angling my cock - thoroughly coated with her juices - toward her entrance.
Before I could thrust, her impossibly long legs wrapped around my hips and pulled, forcing me inside in one slick, smooth motion. She gasped, her eyes going wide, and I groaned as the new angle let me sink even deeper than before.
“Oh fuck,” she whimpered. “That’s - you’re so deep -”
I didn’t waste time. I started moving, building back to that punishing rhythm, and Yuna’s hands flew to my shoulders, pulling me down. Her lips found mine in a deep, desperate kiss. Our tongues tangled, our moans muffled as I fucked her with everything I had.
Her legs squeezed around my torso, her heels digging into my lower back, urging me deeper with each thrust. The lounge chair creaked beneath us, protesting the abuse.
“Mmph -” she gasped against my lips, breaking the kiss just long enough to speak. “Yes - fuck - yes -”
Her hand slipped between our bodies, fingers finding her clit and rubbing frantically. The added stimulation made her pussy clench around me, fluttering, and I groaned.
I grabbed her waist with both hands, my grip tight enough to leave marks. The sensation drove her wild. Her entire body arched off the chair like she was possessed, her small tits pressing against my chest, her nails raking down my back hard enough to sting.
“Don’t stop -” she whimpered. “Please don’t stop - I’m so close -”
I could feel my own orgasm building, slow but inevitable. The fifth of the day, and somehow still powerful, that heat coiling in my balls. I broke the kiss, gasping, “Yuna - I’m - I’m gonna -”
“Wait!” Her eyes flew open, wide and commanding. She pushed against my chest with surprising strength, forcing me to pull back.
I stumbled, my cock slipping out, slick and throbbing and angry at being denied. I stared at her in confusion, chest heaving.
She sat up, a wicked grin spreading across her flushed face. Her hair was a mess, her lips swollen from kissing, her whole body glistening with sweat and pool water.
“Okay - my turn,” she breathed, voice rough with arousal. “You earned it.” She was already moving, that wicked grin spreading. “Let me - fuck - let me show you why guys literally can’t shut up about this.”
Chapter 6: The Siren’s Satisfaction
Marathon riding. Exhaustion wearing the face of desire.
I collapsed back onto the lounge chair, my chest heaving, every muscle in my body screaming from exhaustion. Five orgasms. I’d already blown five loads today, and somehow this insatiable siren wanted more.
Yuna stood over me, water still dripping from her hair, that wicked grin on her face. She looked like a goddess backlit by the afternoon sun - all long legs and wet skin, her small tits perfect and perky, her pussy still glistening and swollen from the pounding I’d just given her.
“Your turn to just lay there,” she purred, climbing onto the chair. “I wanna feel you from this angle.”
As she turned around to straddle me reverse cowgirl, I took the opportunity to cheekily slap her ass. The sound echoed across the terrace, a sharp crack that seemed to hang in the humid air, and her ass jiggled from the impact in a way that was absolutely mesmerizing.
It was plumper than Yeji’s, I couldn’t help but notice. Where Yeji was an athletic freak of nature - her body sculpted from marble and countless hours of dance practice, abs that could grate cheese and an ass that was pure, toned muscle like a weapon forged in a gym - Yuna was slimmer overall but blessed with godly hips and an ass that had just enough give to be perfect. Perfect for grabbing, perfect for slapping, perfect for watching bounce.
“What?” she asked, looking back at me over her shoulder with a coy smile as she positioned herself over my lap. Her hair fell across one eye, still dripping with pool water.
“Your ass,” I said, not even trying to hide my appreciation. My hands found her hips automatically. “I’m obsessed with it. The way it bounces, the way it feels...” I squeezed for emphasis. “I could watch it all day.”
She bit her lip, feigning shyness but clearly pleased. “You’re not the first guy to say that while fucking me, you know.” Then her expression shifted to that wicked grin. “But you’re probably the fastest I’ve ever let inside me. Like, most guys have to work for it. Wine and dine, or at least buy me coffee.” She glanced back at my cock, still hard despite everything. “You should be proud. Badge of honor or whatever.”
As she spoke, she reached down between her legs, her fingers wrapping around my shaft. Without missing a beat in her monologue, she guided me to her entrance and sank down in one smooth, practiced motion. Her pussy swallowed me whole, still slick and hot from our previous round.
“Fuck,” I groaned, my head falling back against the chair. My hands gripped her waist tighter.
She moaned softly - just a little hum of satisfaction - and started rolling her hips in slow, deliberate circles, getting comfortable, adjusting to the angle.
Then she glanced back at me, that teasing smirk playing on her lips.
“No wonder Yeji was screaming like that earlier,” she said breathlessly, already starting to move. There was something in her voice - a mix of jealousy and satisfaction, like she’d just confirmed a suspicion she’d been harboring. “You really know how to wreck a pussy.”
Before I could respond, she started riding in earnest. Her hair dripped water onto my chest, cold droplets contrasting with the heat of our bodies. Her hair dripped water onto my chest, cold droplets contrasting with the heat of our bodies. From this angle, I had a perfect view - her spine curving down to that perfect ass bouncing on my lap, water droplets catching sunlight on her skin. The wet skin-on-skin contact made every movement slicker, smoother, but somehow more intense.
The wet skin-on-skin contact made every movement slicker, smoother, but somehow more intense. Each time she rolled her hips, there was this slick, obscene sound, and I could feel every ridge and fold of her pussy as she moved.
“So,” she started, lifting herself up and dropping back down, establishing a rhythm. “I don’t usually fuck idols. Like Yeji does.”
“No?” I managed, my voice strained. She was moving faster now, really bouncing, and it was torture.
“Nah.” She bounced harder, her ass slapping against my thighs. “Male idols are so full of themselves. They think they’re God’s gift just because they have fangirls screaming their names.” She rolled her hips in a particularly devastating way. “But most of them? Terrible in bed. Like, genuinely bad.”
“How - how would you know?” I gasped as she picked up speed.
“Because I tried! Obviously.” She laughed breathlessly. “But nobody tells them they suck because they’re idols, you know? Too precious. So they just keep thinking they’re amazing when really they just -” She demonstrated with a few rough, graceless bounces. “ - pump away like that with zero technique.”
I couldn’t help but laugh, even through the pleasure. “So what, you - ah, fuck - you avoid them?”
“I hunt better prey.” She leaned back, changing the angle so I hit deeper, and we both groaned. “Guys who actually get how lucky they are, you know? Staff members, backup dancers, random hot guys I meet at clubs.” She was riding me harder now, really moving. “Because those guys? They actually try to make it good. They worship you like you’re doing them a favor.”
Her words were punctuated by moans and gasps as she rode me, her small tits bouncing with each movement. Water droplets flew from her hair, catching the sunlight.
My hands slid from her waist to her ass, grabbing, squeezing, trying to guide her movements but mostly just holding on. “You’re really good at this,” I groaned without thinking.
“At what?” She grinned down at me, knowing exactly what I meant.
“Yeah?” Her grin widened, something competitive flashing in her eyes. “You should feel lucky then. Most guys don’t get this far.” She bounced harder, as if to prove her point. “Actually, the last guy who got me this worked up was - mmm - Tuesday night? Wednesday morning? Right after our comeback stage.”
“Yeah?” I groaned.
“Yeah. He was cute. Quiet type.” She adjusted her angle, taking me deeper, and we both gasped. “Got him alone in one of the tech rooms and just - fuck - he went down on me for SO long. Like, I actually had to check my phone at one point to see if we had enough time before load-out.”
“Dedicated,” I managed.
“Right?” She was bouncing faster now, really riding me, chasing something. “Super eager. But his dick was like -” She made a so-so gesture with her hand while still moving. “Average? Maybe slightly above? Nothing like this.” She emphasized her point by dropping down hard, taking me to the hilt, and I groaned.
My orgasm was building rapidly. “Despite five previous loads, despite my wrecked body, despite my body being absolutely wrecked, she was riding me like it was a competition and she was determined to win. The way her pussy squeezed me, the visual of her ass bouncing, the sound of her voice mixing dirty stories with casual conversation - it was too much.
“Yuna -” I warned, my fingers digging into her hips. “I’m gonna -”
But she either didn’t hear me or didn’t care. She just kept riding, kept talking, her rhythm never breaking.
“Oh, and that dancer in LA -” She was breathless now, words coming out between gasps. “During our US leg - he had stamina but zero rhythm. Just - ahh - kept going and going but it was like - mmm - like fucking a metronome -”
I couldn’t hold back. My sixth orgasm of the day exploded out of me with a force that shocked even me. I bucked up involuntarily, burying myself as deep as possible as I pumped what felt like an impossible amount of cum deep into her pussy. I could feel it squirting out around my cock, our bodies too tightly pressed for it all to stay inside.
“Fuck!” I roared, every muscle in my body tensing, stars exploding behind my eyelids.
But Yuna just pressed a hand firmly against my chest, forcing me back down into the chair, and kept riding. She didn’t even pause. Didn’t even acknowledge it.
“ - and I literally had to fake it because he wasn’t getting me there -” she continued, as if I hadn’t just filled her with cum. “Which was so annoying because I was SO close but he just - ugh -”
The overstimulation was immediate and intense. My cock was hypersensitive, every movement of her pussy sending shockwaves through my body that bordered on painful. But she didn’t stop. She kept riding, kept talking, her rhythm never faltering even as my cum leaked out of her with each bounce.
“Then there was this producer guy - older, whatever -” She rolled her eyes even as she moved. “Came in like two minutes and acted like he did something impressive. Men are so -”
Her words cut off as she glanced down, finally noticing the absolute mess between us - cum coating both our thighs, dripping onto the chair, leaking out of her with each movement.
She looked back up at me, still riding, and asked almost conversationally, “Wait. Did you cum inside me?”
“Yes -” I gasped. “Yuna - please - I can’t -”
“Oh.” She said it so simply, so matter-of-factly, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. She processed this for a moment, still moving. Then shrugged. “Well, I’m not done yet, so...”
Then her talking shifted focus, and somehow this was worse.
“Unnie must really love this cock,” she said, her voice taking on a teasing edge as she rode me. “I bet she rode you just like this morning, huh? Did she bounce on it like this?” She demonstrated with a particularly hard drop that made me groan in agony-pleasure. “Did she take it this deep?”
“Yuna -”
“I bet her pussy isn’t as wet as mine though.” She was getting breathless now, chasing her own orgasm. “I bet she doesn’t get this sloppy. Wait, does she?”
All I could do was hold onto her waist for dear life, my fingers probably leaving bruises, as she used my oversensitive cock to get herself off. Her movements became more erratic, more desperate, her breath coming in short gasps.
“Fuck -” she whimpered. “Fuck, I’m - I’m gonna -”
And then she came. Hard.
Her entire body went rigid, her back arching like a bow, her pussy clamping down on my abused cock with industrial-grade suction - the kind Yeji bragged her Dyson had. She screamed - actually screamed -”Fuck - yes - Minho!” - her voice echoing off the villa walls.
Her orgasm seemed to last forever. Her walls spasmed around me in rhythmic pulses, her thighs shaking violently, her hands clawing at my chest hard enough to leave marks. Wave after wave crashed through her, her whole body trembling, and I watched in awe as this confident, cocky siren completely fell apart on top of me.
Spoiled brat always gets what she wants, I thought to myself.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she eased up. Her movements slowed to a gentle rock, then a stop. We were both panting, covered in sweat and pool water and cum. She lifted herself slowly, carefully, and my cock slipped out with a wet, obscene squelch.
We both looked down at the aftermath. My cock was glistening with our mixed fluids, still twitching slightly. Her pussy was absolutely wrecked - swollen, red, gaping slightly - with thick ropes of my cum leaking out and dripping onto my stomach in heavy globs.
Impulsively, without thinking, I reached down. I dipped my fingers into the cream pooling at her entrance, gathering some on my fingertips, and brought them to her lips.
She locked eyes with me - those dark, intense eyes - and slowly, sensually, licked my fingers clean. Her tongue swirled around each digit, lapping up every drop of our combined fluids while maintaining that intense eye contact.
In that moment, something passed between us. Not love - we weren’t delusional - but something. A deep, unspoken understanding. A connection forged through the most intense, raw, animalistic fucking either of us had experienced in a long time. We were both naked, breathless, absolutely destroyed, covered in each other’s fluids, and for a brief moment, time stood still.
The world was quiet except for our breathing.
And then we heard it.
The villa door banging open. Then slamming shut.
“YO!” Ryujin’s voice boomed through the house, loud and unmistakable, echoing off the walls. “ANYONE HOME?”
Yuna and I froze instantly.
Our eyes locked, going wide with panic. We were still in the exact same position - her straddling me on the lounge chair, cum leaking from her pussy, my hands on her hips, both of us completely naked and covered in evidence.
The exact same position I’d found her in when I first caught her masturbating on this very chair.
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Author’s Note
Whew - that’s the end of the first phase of the Yuna/Minho pool scene. Fun fact: the entire story was originally supposed to stop right here. This was meant to be a standalone Tumblr smut one-shot: sun, chlorine, reckless horniness. Yuna gets her victory lap, Minho gets obliterated with six orgasms, the chair survives (barely), and fade to black.
But then I had one intrusive, story-changing thought:
“Okay... but what if they got caught?”
And immediately everything unraveled in the best possible way. Because if anyone was going to walk in at the exact worst moment - kicking the door open, not giving a fuck, shouting “YO!” without a hint of shame - it would be Ryujin. And the moment she appears, the entire tone and trajectory of the story shifts. The chaos level spikes. The dynamics between the girls begin to matter. Minho stops being just a POV stand-in and becomes a character caught in their gravitational pull. The dom-leaning gremlin agent of sexual entropy has shows up, and suddenly Yuna isn’t the only siren on the terrace anymore.
From this interruption, the whole saga grew legs: the rivalry, the jealousy, the emotional depth under all the smut, the mythology of each girl - all of it starts here, with Ryujin barging in.
So if this chapter feels like the end of something - it is. But it’s also the moment the real story begins.
Thank you for surviving Yuna’s first act of terrorism - I hope you enjoyed every unhinged, chlorine-soaked second of it.
Now Ryujin’s here, and everything’s about to get worse.
A/n : There Will Be Some Netori/Cuckolding Happening In The Story, So if You Don't Like that Type of Thing, Please Skip This Story.
The rain started as a faint patter against your umbrella, then built into a steady, drumming rhythm that mirrored the pulse of satisfaction in your temples. It had been a good day. Seojun had practically pissed himself in the library when you’d “accidentally” knocked his stack of precious art history books into a murky puddle by the exit. The look on his face—that weak, trembling lip, those eyes desperately scanning the room for his guardian angels—was better than any grade.
But they hadn’t been there. Karina and Winter, his two little shields, had been absent. That alone had made the victory taste slightly stale. You needed them to see it. You needed them to know.
So you’d followed her. Jimin, though everyone called her Karina. She walked fast, head down against the weather, an oversized grey sweater swallowing her frame. She didn’t live in the dorms; she had a small studio apartment a few blocks off campus, in a building with a buzzer system that was more suggestion than security. You’d watched from across the street, under the awning of a closed convenience store, as she fumbled with her keys and vanished inside.
An hour passed. The light in her second-floor window glowed a soft yellow against the deepening grey of the evening. You were about to write it off as a wasted evening, a creeping dampness seeping into your leather shoes, when you saw it. A shift in the light. A flicker of blue from a screen. Her silhouette moved in front of the window, then she drew the blinds—but not completely. A slim, vertical gap remained, a blatant invitation for anyone who cared to look.
Curiosity, sharp and predatory, pulled you across the street and into the building’s foyer. The stairwell was quiet, smelling of old carpet and lemon cleaner. You took the steps two at a time, the sound masked by the rain thrashing against the windows. Her door was at the end of the hall, marked with a small, woven dreamcatcher. You didn’t knock. You just stood there, listening. At first, nothing. Then, a low, rhythmic thump of bass, tinny through the door. Music? No. Too mechanical, too persistent.
You leaned closer, your ear almost touching the painted wood. A gasp. Sharp, punched-out. Then a moan, low and strained, followed by the slick, wet sound of skin on skin.
A slow grin spread across your face. You knew that sound. You pulled your phone from your pocket, swiped to the camera, and carefully angled it through the gap in the blinds.
The scene inside was better than you could have written. Karina, the diligent, book-smart protector, the girl who’d stood between you and Seojun with fire in her eyes last week, was on her bed, a laptop propped beside her. The screen showed a graphic, pulsing tangle of bodies—a woman being taken from behind, hard. And Karina was mirroring them. Her sweater was gone, discarded in a heap on the floor. She wore only a simple white bra and cotton panties, her back arched off the mattress. One hand was shoved down her panties, moving frantically, the heel of her palm grinding against the fabric. The other hand pinched and pulled at her own nipple through the bra cup, her mouth hanging open in a silent ‘O’.
“F-fuck… yes…” she whimpered to the empty room, her voice a broken, husky thing you’d never heard her use. It was nothing like the clear, chastising tone she used on campus.
You hit record. The phone captured it all in pristine, high-definition clarity: the desperate rocking of her hips, the way her toes curled into the rumpled sheets, the sheen of sweat making her collarbone gleam. Her moans grew louder, less controlled, dissolving into a sobbing, guttural chant. “Oh god, oh god, right there, don’t stop, don’t—!” Her body went rigid, a silent scream etched on her lips as her back bowed off the bed in a violent shudder. She collapsed, chest heaving, limbs splayed like a broken doll.
You stopped recording. Saved the file. Labeled it: KARINATRUTH_. The whole thing was a masterpiece of hypocrisy.
You didn’t wait for her to recover. You raised your fist and hammered on the door, three times, hard enough to rattle the frame in its jamb.
The frantic scramble from inside was immediate. A thump, a hissed curse, the frantic snap of the laptop closing. “Who is it?” Her voice was pitched high with panic, trying and failing to sound normal.
“Open up, Karina.” You kept your tone flat, conversational, leaning your shoulder against the doorframe.
Silence. Then, tighter now, “Go away. It’s late.”
“I have a video.” You said it calmly, leaning close to the wood. “A very, very spicy video. Of you, moaning like a bitch in heat while you watch two guys absolutely ruin some other slut. It’s fucking cinematic.”
The silence that followed was absolute, thick enough to choke on. You heard a soft, choked sound. A sob, smothered.
“Now,” you continued, your voice dropping to a pleasant, malicious murmur. “You can let me in, and we can have a chat about your new hobby. Or I can just upload this to the campus network drive. Title it… what? ‘Karina’s Study Break’? ‘Seojun’s Protector Unprotected’? Your choice. But my thumb’s getting kinda twitchy.”
The lock turned. The door opened a crack, still secured by a flimsy brass chain. One wide, terrified eye stared out at you, red-rimmed and glistening. “Please,” she whispered, the word barely audible. “Just delete it. I’ll do anything.”
“Anything is a big word,” you said, smiling. It wasn’t a nice smile. “Prove it. Take the chain off.”
Her hand trembled violently as she fumbled with the chain. It rattled and fell with a cheap metallic clatter. You pushed the door open and stepped inside, closing it softly behind you with a definitive click.
The room was small, neat, and smelled like her—vanilla lotion, old books from the shelf by the desk, and now, the sharp, musky tang of sex. She stood frozen a few feet away, arms crossed over her chest, still in just her bra and panties. She was trying to look defiant, but her entire body was shaking. Fine tremors ran up her arms. Her skin was flushed, a deep, feverish pink that spread from her cheeks down her throat and across the tops of her breasts. Her lips were swollen, bruised-looking from her own teeth.
“Look at you,” you said, not moving from the door. You let your gaze travel over her, slow and appraising. “All worked up. Was it good? The video you were watching, I mean. Looked… intense.”
“Delete it,” she repeated, her voice a raw thread. She uncrossed her arms, as if realizing the pose did nothing to hide her state, then crossed them again, tighter. “You have no right.”
“I have every right,” you corrected, pulling out your phone and tapping the screen. Her own choked moans filled the small room, loud and obscene. Her eyes screwed shut in utter humiliation. You stopped the playback after just three seconds. “The right of the winner. You and Winter have been playing at being heroes, getting in my way. Protecting that worthless little worm. But this?” You gestured at her, at the room, at the closed laptop. “This shows me what you really are. Underneath all the books and the big sister act. You’re just a needy little slut with a hardcore kink.”
“I’m not—” she started, but the protest died in her throat as you took a single, deliberate step forward.
“You are. Your body says you are.” Your gaze dropped pointedly, lingering. The white cotton of her panties was visibly darkened, soaked through at the center, clinging to the shape of her. She flinched, trying to angle her hips away. “Don’t hide it. It’s the most honest thing about you right now.”
You closed the distance between you. She didn’t run. She didn’t scream. She just stood there, trembling, as you reached out and hooked a single finger under her chin, forcing her to look up at you. Tears welled in her eyes but didn’t fall, held back by sheer force of will. “What do you want?” she breathed, her warm, minty breath washing over your face.
“I want you to know your place.” Your thumb brushed over her bottom lip. It was incredibly soft, warm, and damp. “And your place is beneath me. Literally, figuratively, every which way.”
You leaned in. She stiffened, turning her head away. “Don’t—”
You grabbed the back of her neck, your fingers tangling in the dark silk of her hair, and pulled her face back to yours. “You don’t tell me ‘don’t,’” you growled against her mouth. Her lips were parted in protest, and you could feel the frantic puff of her breath. “You gave up that right when you opened the door. Now, you’re going to kiss me back. Or the video goes live in the next thirty seconds. Twenty-nine. Twenty-eight…”
A tear finally spilled over, tracing a hot, salty path down her cheek. You waited, your grip firm, your lips a hair’s breadth from hers. You watched the war in her eyes—shame, rage, terror, and a horrible, dawning comprehension of her powerlessness. Then, with a shuddering exhale that was pure surrender, her body went pliant. Her lips, hesitant and cold at first, moved under yours.
It wasn’t passionate. It was submission. You took it, deepening the kiss, forcing her mouth open with yours. She tasted like mint toothpaste and the salt of her own tears. Her hands came up, not to push you away, but to rest weakly, palm-flat, against your chest. You bit her lower lip, not hard enough to break the skin, but enough to make her gasp, and she whimpered into your mouth, a sound that was equal parts fear and something else, something hotter and more shaming.
You broke the kiss, a string of saliva connecting your mouths for a second before it snapped. Her lips were redder now, bee-stung. Her breathing was ragged. “Good girl,” you murmured, the praise as degrading as any insult.
Your hands went to her back, finding the clasp of her bra between her shoulder blades. She flinched again, a full-body jerk, but didn’t stop you as you pinched the hooks and released them. The white fabric fell away, loose, and she caught it against her chest with a gasp. You didn’t let her. You pulled it from her hands and let it drop to the floor.
Her tits were fuller than you’d imagined, heavy and pale with perfect, pale pink nipples that were already stiff and pebbled from her earlier attention. You palmed one, weighing it, your thumb scraping roughly over the tight peak. A sharp, pained gasp hissed through her teeth.
“Sensitive,” you noted, pinching the nipple between your thumb and forefinger, twisting slowly. She cried out, her back arching, unconsciously pushing her chest further into your hand. “You like it rough. Of course you do. Look at what you watch.”
You pushed her backward, not gently. She stumbled, her legs hitting the edge of the narrow bed, and she sat down hard. You stood over her, looking down, a king surveying new territory. “Take the panties off.”
She stared up at you, her eyes glazed, unfocused. “H-here?”
“Right here. Right now.” You tilted your head. “Show me what I own.”
Her hands shook so violently you thought she might fail. She hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her cotton panties. She lifted her hips off the bed, wriggling them down her legs—a clumsy, graceless motion—and let them fall to the floor beside your feet. She was completely exposed, her knees pressed together tightly, her thighs gleaming in the lamplight. The neat, delicate folds of her pussy were slick, glistening. A faint, swollen hood barely concealed her clit. She was shaved bare, which only made her look more vulnerable.
“Open,” you commanded, your voice leaving no room for debate.
A sob caught in her throat. Slowly, hesitantly, as if moving through syrup, she let her knees fall apart.
The sight sent a jolt of pure, aggressive heat straight to your cock, straining against your jeans. She was drenched. Her inner lips were puffy and wet, a gleaming, flushed pink. A thin, silvery trail of her own arousal had smeared on her inner thigh. She was the picture of debauched, shameful arousal, and the absolute humiliation radiating from her only made it better, hotter.
You knelt down on the floor in front of her, putting your face level with her cunt. She jerked, trying to slam her legs closed, but you were faster. You grabbed her thighs, your fingers digging into the soft flesh, and forced them wider, holding her open. “Stay.”
You didn’t touch her with your mouth. You just looked, studying her like a specimen, leaning in so close you could feel the heat radiating from her. The smell of her, sweet and pungent and utterly female, filled your senses. “Look at this mess,” you said, your voice low, almost conversational. “All this for a video. Imagine what you’ll do for the real thing.”
You leaned forward and blew a soft, cool stream of air across her exposed, glistening flesh.
She jolted as if electrocuted, a broken, whimpering “Ah!” escaping her. Her hips gave an involuntary little jerk forward, seeking contact.
“You want more?” you asked, looking up at her face. She was staring down at you, her expression a wreck of humiliation and a need she couldn’t hide. She shook her head frantically, but her body betrayed her. Her pussy visibly clenched, fluttering open and closed, a shiny, pink invitation.
“Liar,” you whispered. You brought your hand up and dragged a single finger through her slickness, from her entrance all the way up to her clit. The wet, hot slide was obscenely loud. She gasped, her head falling back, throat working. You rubbed the pad of your finger in a slow, deliberate circle over the swollen, hard little nub. Her thighs tensed under your grip, muscles corded.
“N-no… stop…” she pleaded, but it was a whisper, without conviction, her voice breaking on the last word.
“You don’t get to tell me to stop,” you said, increasing the pressure, watching her face contort. Her breath started coming in short, sharp pants. “You get to take what I give you. And right now, I’m giving you a lesson.” You removed your hand, holding your glistening finger up for her to see. “See that? That’s you. That’s your truth. Not the girl who stands up to me on campus. This wet, desperate cunt is who you really are.”
You stood up, wiping your finger clean on the thigh of your dark jeans. She sat there, exposed and trembling, watching you with huge, lost eyes. You made a show of unbuttoning your own jeans, the snick of the button and the rasp of the zipper loud in the quiet room. Her gaze dropped to your hands, then flew back to your face, wider still, a new kind of fear dawning there.
You didn’t take them off. You just freed your cock, letting it spring out, already thick and heavy with arousal. It wasn’t fully hard yet, but the sheer size of it—the thick, prominent veins mapping the shaft, the broad, flushed head—made her breath catch audibly. You saw her throat work as she swallowed, her eyes glued to it.
“This,” you said, wrapping your hand around the base, giving it a slow, deliberate stroke, feeling it swell further under your touch, “is what you’re going to learn to worship. This is what’s going to ruin you for any other pathetic dick. You understand?”
She just stared, hypnotized, her mouth slightly open.
“I asked you a question.”
“Y-yes,” she stammered.
“Yes, what?”
“Yes… I understand.”
“Good.” You took another step forward, until the fat, hot tip brushed against her kneecap. She flinched at the contact, the heat of your skin against hers. “Now, you’re going to help me with Winter. Your little friend. The one who likes to slap me.”
Karina’s eyes flashed with a last, dying spark of defiance. “Leave her alone.”
You smirked. You tapped your phone, still in your other hand, against your thigh. “Or what? You’ll stop me? You can’t even stop your own hand from between your legs when you’re supposed to be studying.” You leaned down, bracing your hands on the mattress on either side of her hips, caging her in. Your face was inches from hers. “You’re going to bring her to me. You’re going to make sure she’s… receptive. However you need to do it. And you’re going to watch.”
“I won’t,” she whispered, but the fight was draining from her voice, replaced by a hollow, grinding dread.
“You will.” You straightened up, looking down at her with cold certainty. “Because if you don’t, this video, and a whole album of photos I’m about to take of the mess I’m going to make of you, goes to everyone. Your professors. Your parents. Seojun.” You let that last name hang in the air, let it sink its hooks into her. “Imagine him seeing this. Seeing his perfect Karina, naked, moaning, getting used. It’ll break whatever pathetic little heart he has left. You want that? To be the thing that finally shatters him?”
The last of her resistance crumbled. Her shoulders slumped, her spine curving in defeat. She looked down at her own naked body, then at your cock, so close to her. A fresh tear dripped off her chin and landed with a soft pat on her thigh. “What… what do you want me to do?” The question was a defeated sigh, the sound of total capitulation.
“First,” you said, your voice turning darkly playful. “Get on your knees.”
She slid off the bed, her movements slow and stiff like a puppet with cut strings, and knelt on the floor between your feet. The top of her head came to your navel. From this angle, you could see the elegant, vulnerable line of her spine, the gentle curve of her ass. She kept her eyes fixed on the floorboards.
“Look at it,” you ordered.
She lifted her gaze, staring at your cock, now fully erect and jutting toward her face. Up close, the size was even more imposing. The thick, veined shaft, the broad, smooth head, the faint, musky scent of your own arousal. Her lips parted slightly.
“You’re going to learn it,” you said, guiding the head to trace her lips. They were soft, yielding. “Every inch, every vein. But not tonight.” You pulled back, denying the contact she seemed to instinctively lean into. “Tonight, you just get a taste of what’s coming.”
You gripped the base again and aimed. With your other hand, you grabbed a handful of her hair, not yanking, just holding her head firmly in place. “Open wide, slut.”
A choked, miserable sound escaped her, but she obeyed, parting her lips. You didn’t push inside. You just rubbed the slick, fat head of your cock over her lips, smearing pre-cum across her mouth, then dragged it over her cheeks, painting her face with it. She squeezed her eyes shut, tears leaking from the corners, but she didn’t pull away. Her breath was hot and rapid against your sensitive skin.
“This is your makeup now,” you grunted, the sensation of her soft skin and the visual of her degradation driving you wild. You marked her throat, the line of her jaw. “The only thing you need. Remember this smell. Remember this taste. This is what you belong to.”
You finally pulled back. Her face was a mess, glistening with saliva and your fluids. She looked utterly broken, yet a faint, traitorous pink flush still colored her chest and neck. Her nipples were hard, aching peaks.
“Now,” you said, your voice thick with lust, tucking yourself back into your jeans but leaving them undone, the heavy weight of your cock obvious against the fly. “Get back on the bed. On your back. I want a picture of my new pet in her natural state.”
She climbed onto the bed, moving like she was in a dream, and lay back against the pillows. She didn’t try to cover herself. She just stared at the ceiling, tears streaming silently down her temples and into her hair. You pulled out your phone again, switching to the camera. You took several pictures: a close-up of her tear-streaked face, a shot of her tits with their pert, abused nipples, a graphic, detailed photo of her splayed, wet cunt. You made her turn over, took pictures of the curve of her ass. Each click of the shutter was a nail in the coffin of her old life.
You stood at the foot of the bed, looking at the collection on your screen. Perfect. “Tomorrow,” you said, putting the phone away. “You text Winter. You tell her you need to talk, that it’s urgent. About me. You get her somewhere private. And you make sure she’s ready to listen. You prepare her. You make her understand that crossing me has consequences… and that those consequences can feel very, very good if she just learns to behave.”
Karina said nothing. She just lay there, a beautiful, used doll.
“Nod if you understand, pet.”
Slowly, she nodded, her hair rustling against the pillow.
“Good.” You walked to the door, pausing with your hand on the knob. You looked back at her, a final smirk playing on your lips. “Clean yourself up. You’ve got work to do.”
The silence in Karina’s apartment the next evening was a physical thing, thick and sour with dread. You leaned against her kitchen counter, sipping a glass of water you’d poured yourself, watching her. She sat rigidly on the edge of her bed, still in her campus clothes—a loose sweater and jeans—her fingers twisting themselves into knots in her lap. She hadn’t looked at you since you’d arrived, your presence a cold anchor in the room.
“She’s coming,” Karina said, her voice flat. “I told her I was having a breakdown about you. That I needed to talk.”
“Good pet,” you said, the praise like a slap. She flinched. “Remember the script. You’re scared. You’re worried about what I might do. And you’re going to help her understand that being nice to me… feels a lot better than being my enemy.”
The buzzer from downstairs rattled, sharp and invasive. Karina jumped as if shocked. You just smiled, setting the glass down with a soft clink. “That’s her. Let her in.”
Karina moved like a ghost to the intercom, pressing the button. “It’s open.” Her voice cracked.
You positioned yourself in the shadowed corner by the door, out of immediate sight. You heard the rapid, light footsteps on the stairs, a familiar, angry rhythm. The door flew open without a knock.
“Jimin, what the hell is going on? Your text sounded like you were—” Winter’s voice, full of sharp concern, cut off as she took in the scene. Karina, pale and trembling. The closed blinds. The tense, charged air. Her eyes, narrow and intelligent, scanned the room, missing nothing. “What’s wrong?”
Then she saw you. You stepped forward, just enough to be fully visible, leaning a shoulder against the wall. Her whole body went rigid. Her pretty, sharp-featured face, usually set in a mask of cool disdain, flashed with instant, white-hot fury.
“You,” she spat. “What are you doing here? Get out.”
“Minjeong, wait—” Karina started, but Winter was already stepping forward, putting herself between you and her friend. The same protective move she always pulled with Seojun. It made your cock twitch in your jeans.
“I’m not going anywhere,” you said, your voice calm, conversational. “Karina invited me. We’ve been… getting to know each other better. Isn’t that right?”
Karina’s silence was answer enough. Winter’s gaze darted to her friend, seeing the shame, the defeat. The fury in her eyes simmered down into something colder, more calculating. “What did you do to her?”
“I showed her a good time,” you shrugged. “And I’ve got the videos to prove it. Really spicy stuff. The kind of thing that would make all her professors—and her parents—see her in a whole new light.”
Winter’s hands clenched into fists at her sides. “You’re a disgusting pig. You recorded her? That’s illegal.”
“So call the cops,” you challenged, pushing off the wall and taking a step toward her. She didn’t back up. She held her ground, chin lifted, but you could see the rapid pulse in her throat. “Let’s see how fast Karina’s face is plastered on every forum from here to Seoul. ‘Honor Student’s Secret Porn Habit.’ Catchy, right?”
“You wouldn’t.”
“I already have the files uploaded to a timed cloud drive,” you lied smoothly. “If I don’t enter a code every twelve hours, they go to a pre-set mailing list. Your parents are on it, Karina. So is your scholarship committee.”
A broken sound escaped Karina. Winter’s resolve wavered, just for a second. You saw it—the flicker of fear beneath the anger. The understanding that this wasn’t a bluff she could call.
“What do you want?” Winter asked, her voice tight.
“From you?” You closed the final step between you. She was tall, but you still had a few inches on her. You looked down into her fierce, hate-filled eyes. “An apology would be a start. For that little slap you gave me.”
“Go to hell.”
You chuckled. “Feisty. I like that. It’ll make breaking you so much more fun.” Your hand shot out, not to hit her, but to grab the back of her neck, your fingers tangling in her short, dark hair. She gasped, her hands coming up to claw at your wrist. “Apologize.”
“Fuck you!” she snarled, trying to wrench away. Her strength was surprising, fueled by pure rage.
“Karina,” you said, not taking your eyes off Winter. “Show her what happens when you disobey.”
From the bed, Karina made a choked noise. “Please… don’t make me…”
“The video, Karina. Play it for her. Just the audio. Let her hear what her best friend sounds like when she comes.”
Tears streamed down Karina’s face, but she fumbled for her laptop on the nightstand. Her hands shook violently as she opened it, navigated to a file. A second later, the room was filled with the sound of her own voice, ragged and desperate, moaning, “F-fuck… yes… right there, don’t stop, oh god!”
Winter froze. The fight drained from her muscles, replaced by a horrified, gut-deep shock. Her grip on your wrist went slack. She stared past you at Karina, whose face was buried in her hands, shoulders shaking with silent sobs.
“Turn it off,” Winter whispered.
You squeezed the back of her neck, a warning pressure. “Apologize.”
Her throat worked. She was trembling now, fine tremors you could feel under your palm. The sound of Karina’s debauched pleasure was a weapon you’d turned against them both. “I’m… I’m sorry,” she forced out, the words gritted, hollow.
“For what? Be specific.”
“For slapping you.” Each word was like pulling a tooth.
“Good.” You released her neck, but didn’t move back. “Now, you’re going to learn the same lesson Karina did. Your place is beneath me. And tonight, you’re going to prove you know it.”
“I’m not doing anything with you,” she said, but the defiance was a thin veneer now, cracking.
“You are.” You reached for the hem of her fitted black t-shirt. She slapped your hands away.
“Don’t touch me!”
You backhanded her.
It wasn’t a hard hit, but it was sharp, sudden, snapping her head to the side. A red mark bloomed on her cheekbone. She gasped, more in shock than pain, her hand flying to her face. Her eyes, wide and glistening, locked on yours, brimming with a new kind of terror—and a dark, unwanted flicker of something else.
“You hit me,” she breathed.
“And I’ll do it again,” you said, your voice low. “I’ll do whatever I want to you. And by the end of tonight, you’re going to beg me for more. Take off the shirt. Or I make Karina do it for you.”
Winter looked at Karina, a silent plea for help that died unspoken. Her friend was a broken statue, unable to meet her eyes. The last of her resistance crumbled. With stiff, jerky motions, her gaze fixed on the floor, she grabbed the hem of her t-shirt and pulled it over her head, letting it fall.
Her torso was lean, toned. She wore a simple black sports bra, the kind meant for utility, not seduction. It compressed her small, pert breasts, but you could still see the shape of them, the tight points of her nipples pressing against the fabric. Her skin was smooth, pale, with a light dusting of goosebumps.
“The rest,” you commanded.
Her fingers went to the button of her jeans. The snick of the button, the rasp of the zipper, were loud in the silent room. She pushed them down her hips, stepping out of them, kicking them aside. She stood before you in just her bra and a pair of simple black cotton panties. Her legs were long, beautifully shaped. She was shivering.
“On the bed. Next to your friend.”
She walked to the bed, movements stiff with humiliation, and sat beside Karina, leaving a foot of space between them. She kept her arms crossed over her chest, her knees pressed tightly together.
“Karina,” you said, your tone turning conversational, almost friendly. “Help your friend relax. Touch her.”
Karina’s head snapped up, her eyes terrified. “What?”
“You heard me. You’re my pet now. Pets do tricks. Touch her. Show her it’s okay.”
“I can’t,” Karina whimpered.
You pulled out your phone, tapped the screen, and the audio of her moans filled the room again for a three-second burst. Winter flinched. Karina squeezed her eyes shut.
“You can, and you will,” you said. “Or the next tap sends it to her phone. And her mother’s.”
Karina sobbed, a raw, ugly sound. Slowly, as if her limbs were made of lead, she turned to Winter. Her face was a mask of agony. “Minjeong… I’m so sorry…”
“Don’t,” Winter whispered, but it was too late.
Karina’s trembling hand reached out and settled on Winter’s bare thigh. Winter jolted at the contact, a sharp inhale hissing through her teeth. Karina’s touch was feather-light, terrified. She began to move her hand in a slow, meaningless circle on Winter’s skin.
“See?” you crooned, walking to the foot of the bed, looking down at both of them. “It’s not so bad. Now kiss her.”
Winter’s eyes flew open. “No.”
“Karina. Kiss her. Or I start sending files.”
Karina leaned in, tears streaming. Winter turned her face away. “Jimin, don’t—”
But Karina was beyond refusal. She cupped Winter’s cheek, her touch desperate, and turned her face back. She pressed her lips to Winter’s. It was a dry, chaste, miserable press of skin. Winter went utterly still, rigid with revulsion.
You laughed, a low, dark sound. “Pathetic. Let me show you how it’s done.” You climbed onto the bed, kneeling between Winter’s spread legs. She tried to slam them shut, but you planted a hand on each of her inner thighs, forcing them apart, your thumbs digging into the soft muscle. “Open for me.”
She fought you, her thigh muscles corded, straining against your grip. You just increased the pressure, leaning your weight into it. “You can’t win. Your body already knows it.” Your gaze dropped to her panties. The black cotton was pristine, but as you held her open, a faint, musky scent—her scent—reached you. Fear, yes. But underneath it, the first hint of something warmer, more animal.
You released one thigh and hooked your thumb into the waistband of her panties. She gasped, her hands flying down to stop you, but you caught both her wrists in one of your hands, pinning them above her head on the pillow. She was strong, but you were stronger, and the leverage was all yours.
“Karina, take them off her,” you ordered, your eyes locked on Winter’s.
Karina, sniffling, obeyed. She hooked her fingers into the other side of the waistband and, with Winter kicking weakly, pulled the panties down her legs and off.
Winter was bare underneath. Neat, delicate. Her labia were a pale, flushed pink, nestled in a small, tidy triangle of dark hair. They were closed tightly together, a smooth, unyielding seam. But as the cool air hit her, and as she strained against your grip, the lips parted slightly, revealing a glimmer of wetness within.
“Look at that,” you murmured. “Not so icy after all, are you?” You leaned down, bringing your face close to her cunt. You didn’t touch her with your mouth. You just exhaled, a warm, damp breath directly onto her exposed flesh.
She jolted, a full-body shudder, a choked “Ah!” escaping her. Her hips gave an involuntary little jerk, lifting off the mattress toward the source of heat.
The room smelled like sex. Thick, musky, ripe. The blinds were still drawn, trapping the sour-sweet scent of sweat, cum, and defeated pride. You lounged back in Karina’s desk chair, your feet propped on the edge of her unmade bed, scrolling through your phone. On the screen, a gallery of photos and videos you’d taken over the last twenty-four hours played in a silent, obscene slideshow.
On the bed, the two girls were tangled together, sleeping. Or trying to. Winter’s head was pillowed on Karina’s stomach, one of Karina’s hands absently carding through Winter’s short, dark hair. Both were naked, their skin marked with the evidence of your ownership—red handprints on hips and asses, faint bruises blooming on thighs and wrists, the sticky, dried traces of your spend glazing their inner thighs and the thatches of their pubic hair.
You’d fucked them for hours. After breaking Winter, you’d made Karina taste her friend on your cock. Then you’d flipped Winter over and fucked her ass, her screams of protest melting into sobs of agonizing pleasure as her tight, virgin hole was stretched and claimed. You’d made Karina watch, then ordered her to lick Winter’s ass clean after you pulled out. You’d taken turns, one girl riding your cock while the other sucked your balls or kissed you, their mouths meeting over your skin. You’d come in Winter’s womb again, then made Karina suck you hard and shoved yourself back into Winter’s sloppy, overfilled cunt before you were even fully erect.
They’d lost count of their orgasms. They’d lost themselves.
A soft sound pulled your attention from your phone. Winter was stirring. Her eyes fluttered open, unfocused, then found you. A jolt went through her—not fear, not anger. Something else. Her hips gave a tiny, unconscious grind against the sheets. A faint pink tinged her cheeks.
“You’re awake,” you said, your voice flat.
She didn’t look away. Her tongue darted out to wet her swollen lips. “Yeah.”
“Thirsty?”
She nodded, a slight, jerky movement. You gestured to the nightstand where two glasses of water sat. She shifted, waking Karina, who blinked sleepily. Without a word, Karina reached for a glass, took a sip, then held it for Winter to drink. The submissive care was automatic, intimate. You watched, a slow smile spreading on your face.
“Good,” you murmured. “You’re learning.”
Karina’s eyes met yours over the rim of the glass. There was no fight left in them. Just a deep, weary acceptance, and underneath it, a shimmering heat. You’d seen it last night, after the fourth or fifth time she’d come. The moment the shame had burned away, leaving only raw, desperate need. She’d begged you for it. “Please, fuck me again, I need it, I need your cock, please—”
You put your phone down. “Sit up. Both of you.”
They moved slowly, stiffly, pushing themselves up to lean against the headboard. They didn’t bother covering themselves. Winter’s small, pert tits were on full display, her nipples dark and peaked. Karina’s larger, fuller breasts swayed with the movement, the pale skin marked with love bites from your mouth. Their pussies were a mess—puffy, well-used lips glistening with a mixture of drying fluids, slightly parted.
“We have a project today,” you said, leaning forward. “A final lesson. For everyone.”
Winter’s brow furrowed. “What?”
“Seojun.”
The name hung in the air like a struck bell. Karina flinched. Winter’s body went rigid, a flash of the old protectiveness surfacing. “What about him?”
“He thinks you’re his saviors. His guardian angels.” You let out a low, humorless laugh. “He needs to see the truth. He needs to see what his guardians really are. What they live for.”
Karina’s voice was a whisper. “No.”
“Yes.” You picked up your phone again, opening the video call app. “You’re going to call him. You’re going to tell him you need to talk, that it’s an emergency. And then you’re going to show him. You’re going to show him how his campus angels worship my cock.”
“I won’t,” Winter said, but her voice lacked conviction. It was a reflex, a ghost of her former self.
You stood up, walking to the bed. You cupped Winter’s chin, forcing her to look at you. Your thumb stroked her cheek, over the faint red mark from your slap. “You will. Because you want to. Look at you. You’re soaking the sheets just thinking about it.”
Her gaze dropped. She was. A fresh, dark patch was spreading on the sheet beneath her bare cunt. A shaky breath escaped her.
“And you,” you said, turning to Karina. You trailed your fingers down her neck, over her collarbone, until you pinched her nipple hard, twisting. She gasped, her back arching, pushing her breast into your hand. “You’re my good pet. You’ll do anything I say. And you like it.”
“I… I do,” she admitted, the words choked with shame and lust. Her own hand drifted down between her legs, her fingers brushing her swollen clit. A soft “ah…” hissed from her lips.
“See?” You released Karina’s nipple and unbuttoned your jeans. Your cock, half-hard from the display, sprang free. It was thick, heavy, the veins prominent. Both girls’ eyes locked onto it instantly. A hungry, helpless focus. “This is what you are now. This is all you are. And Seojun deserves to know.”
You thrust your hips forward, the head of your cock bumping against Winter’s lips. “Make the call, Karina. Now.”
With trembling hands, Karina picked up her own phone from the nightstand. Her face was pale, but her eyes were dark, pupils blown wide. She found Seojun’s contact, her thumb hovering over the video call button. She looked at you for confirmation.
You nodded, then pushed the tip of your cock past Winter’s lips. She opened for you instantly, a low moan vibrating around your shaft as you slid into the wet heat of her mouth. “Do it.”
Karina pressed the button.
The dial tone trilled in the quiet room. You began to fuck Winter’s face slowly, watching the screen over Karina’s shoulder. After two rings, it connected.
Seojun’s face filled the screen. He looked worried, his eyes wide behind his glasses. “Jimin? What’s wrong? Your text said it was an emergency—”
“It is,” Karina said, her voice surprisingly steady. She angled the phone, framing herself and the scene beside her. “It’s about… him.”
Seojun’s gaze shifted, taking in Karina’s naked torso, the bite marks on her breasts. Then he saw Winter. Saw your hips moving, saw the shape of your cock distorting her cheek, heard the wet, gagging sounds as you thrust deeper.
His face went through a journey of pure, uncomprehending horror. “Wha… what is… Minjeong? What is happening?”
You pulled your cock out of Winter’s mouth with a slick pop. A string of saliva connected her lips to your tip. She gasped for air, her eyes dazed, her tongue lolling out.
“Say hello, Seojun,” you said, your voice dripping with mock cheerfulness. You gripped Winter’s hair, turning her face toward the phone. “Your hero is busy.”
“N-no… stop this…” Seojun stammered, his voice breaking.
“Oh, we’re just getting started,” you chuckled. You moved behind Winter, pulling her up onto her knees. You spat on your hand, slicked your cock, and without preamble, guided it to her pussy. She was so wet it slid right in, the entrance offering a hot, liquid grip. You sank to the hilt in one smooth, deep stroke.
Winter’s head fell back, a broken, gorgeous scream tearing from her throat. “FUUUCK!”
On the phone screen, Seojun’s mouth hung open. He was frozen, tears welling in his eyes. “Please… don’t hurt them…”
“Hurt them?” You began to move, setting a slow, deep, punishing rhythm. Each thrust rocked Winter’s entire body forward. “Look at her, you pathetic worm. Does she look hurt?”
She didn’t. Her face was contorted in ecstasy. “Yes! Oh god, yes! Right there!” she screamed, her hands flying back to clutch at your thighs. Her cunt was clamping down on you, a pulsing, milking vise. “It’s so deep! You’re splitting me open!”
“She loves it,” you grunted, picking up speed. The sound of flesh slapping against flesh, of wet, messy fucking, filled the room and echoed through the phone. “She’s a cocksleeve. A fucktoy. Just like her friend.”
You glanced at Karina. “Your turn, pet. Show him.”
Karina didn’t hesitate. A twisted, eager light was in her eyes now. She brought the phone closer, turning it so the camera captured her face, then slowly panned down her body. She cupped her breasts, squeezing them, pinching her own nipples until she whimpered. Then she moved the phone lower, over the flat plane of her stomach, down to the neat triangle of her pubic hair. Her other hand was already there, two fingers plunging into her soaked, gaping pussy.
“See, Seojun?” Karina moaned, her voice a slutty, breathy purr. “See how empty I am? I need it. I need his cock in me right now.” She fucked herself with her fingers, scissoring them, drawing out slick, obscene sounds. “Mmmph… ah! He ruined me. He ruined us. And we love it.”
On the screen, Seojun was crying openly, silent tears streaming down his face. He couldn’t look away.
You were pounding into Winter now, your balls slapping against her ass. You reached around her body, your fingers finding her clit. You rubbed it in hard, tight circles, matching the rhythm of your thrusts.
“I’m gonna come!” Winter shrieked, her body bowing. “I’m gonna come on his cock! Oh god, Seojun, I’m gonna come! Watch me!”
Her orgasm hit like a storm. Her cunt clenched around you in a series of violent, fluttering spasms. She screamed, a raw, continuous sound of absolute surrender. “AAAAHHHHH! YES! FUCK! BREED ME! FILL MY WORTHLESS CUNT!” Her juices gushed, soaking your cock and thighs, dripping onto the sheets below.
You fucked her through it, grinding deep, your cockhead battering against her softened, willing cervix. You felt it give, the tight ring stretching around the tip, allowing you to pierce into her womb once more. She sobbed, overstimulated, her body convulsing.
“Too much… too good… don’t stop… fuck your slut…” she babbled, her words slurring into mindless pleasure.
You held her hips tight, your own climax coiling in your gut. But you weren’t ready. You pulled out, your cock gleaming, dripping with her cum. Winter collapsed onto the bed, twitching and mewling.
“Karina,” you barked.
She was already moving, dropping the phone on the pillow where it still captured Seojun’s shattered expression. She got on all fours in front of you, presenting her ass. Her pussy lips were swollen, dark pink, glistening. She looked back over her shoulder, her eyes begging. “Please. I need it. Fuck me. Use me.”
You didn’t make her wait. You positioned yourself and drove into her. She was looser than Winter, stretched from the night before, but still gloriously tight. She let out a shuddering, grateful cry. “YES! FUCK! GIVE IT TO ME!”
You set a brutal pace immediately, pounding into her from behind. The bed shook. Karina pushed back against you, meeting every thrust, her tits swaying wildly. She reached between her legs, rubbing her clit furiously. “Harder! Oh fuck, harder! Destroy my pussy! Make me your bitch!”
You gripped her hair, yanking her head back. “Tell him what you are!”
She screamed it into the phone. “I’m a whore! I’m his stupid, needy whore! I live for this cock! Seojun, you see? This is all I’m good for!”
You felt your orgasm rising, unstoppable. You pistoned into her, the wet, sloppy sounds of your fucking a obscene soundtrack. You aimed for her cervix, driving into it with jackhammer force.
“I’m gonna fill you,” you growled. “I’m gonna pump your womb full of cum. You want that?”
“YES!” she wailed. “Breed me! Knock me up! I want your babies! Please, I need your cum inside me!”
That did it. With a final, deep, grinding thrust that buried your cock to the hilt and pressed your pelvis flush against her ass, you came.
It was a torrent. A flood. Thick, hot ropes of cum shot directly into her cervix, spilling into her womb. You could feel the pulses, jet after jet, painting her insides. You groaned, a deep, animal sound, as you emptied yourself completely into her.
Karina’s second orgasm triggered from the feel of it. Her body locked up, her back arching, a silent scream on her lips as her cunt milked you, squeezing and fluttering, trying to suck out every last drop.
For a long moment, there was only the sound of heavy breathing and the soft, wet drip of cum leaking from Karina’s stretched hole as you slowly pulled out.
You turned to the phone. Seojun was still there. He looked hollow, broken. He’d seen everything.
You picked up the phone, holding it so your face filled the screen. “Now you know,” you said, your voice calm, final. “Your angels are my sluts. They belong to me. Their bodies, their moans, their cunts… mine. If you ever speak to them again, if you even look at them, I’ll send this entire video to everyone you’ve ever met. Do you understand?”
He nodded, a tiny, broken motion.
“Good.” You ended the call.
The silence that followed was different. Not tense, not dread-filled. It was sated. Heavy with the aftermath of raw, degrading sex.
Karina rolled onto her back, her legs still spread. Your cum was already leaking out of her, a white rivulet tracing a path down her thigh. She didn’t try to stop it. She just watched it, a faint, blissed-out smile on her face.
Winter crawled over to you, nuzzling her face against your hip. Her hand wrapped around your softening cock, smearing the mixed fluids there. “Mmm… you’re still so big,” she murmured, her voice hoarse. She brought her fingers to her mouth and licked them clean. “Tastes like us. And you.”
You looked down at the two of them. The transformation was complete. The fire in Winter’s eyes was gone, replaced by a dazed, cock-drunk adoration. The shame in Karina’s was erased, superseded by a desperate, hungry devotion. They were pets. Sluts. Yours.
Karina sat up, her eyes fixed on your cock. “Can… can I clean you?” she asked, her tone submissive, eager.
Winter whined. “I want to.”
You smirked. “You can both do it.”
They moved together, a well-practiced team now. Winter took the head into her mouth, sucking gently, her tongue lapping at the slit. Karina leaned down, licking along the shaft, cleaning the mess from your balls. They moaned as they did it, the vibrations pleasing against your sensitive skin.
You let them worship you for a minute, then gently pushed them away. “Enough.”
They pulled back, staring up at you with identical expressions of wanton need.
“You want it,” you stated, looking up her body to her face. Her eyes were screwed shut, her teeth digging into her swollen lower lip. “You can lie to me, but you can’t lie to your own cunt. It’s already getting wet for me.”
To prove it, you released her wrists and brought your hand down. You dragged your middle finger through her folds, from the tight, hidden entrance all the way up to the small, hard nub of her clit. The slide wasn’t dry. It was met with a slick, hot resistance. She was wet. Terrified, hating you, but wet.
A low, guttural groan was torn from her throat. Her back arched off the bed.
“See?” you said, holding your glistening finger up for her to see. “This is you, Winter. This is what you really are. A slut waiting for a real cock to put her in her place.”
You unbuttoned your own jeans, finally freeing your cock. It sprang out, fully hard now, thick and heavy, the veins standing in stark relief against the flushed skin. The sight of it—the sheer, intimidating size of it—made Winter’s eyes go wide. Her breath caught in a ragged gasp.
“Oh fuck,” she whispered, the curse slipping out in pure, unvarnished shock.
“That’s right,” you grinned. You stroked yourself slowly, watching her watch you. “This is what’s going inside you. This is what’s going to split you open and make you forget your own name.”
You didn’t bother with foreplay. You positioned yourself between her legs, using your knees to force her thighs wider apart. She was panting now, short, sharp breaths, her chest rising and falling rapidly under the sports bra. You gripped the base of your cock and pressed the broad, slick head against her entrance. She was tight, impossibly tight, the small opening clenching nervously.
“Relax,” you growled. “Or this will hurt a lot more.”
“Please, don’t—” she started, but you pushed.
The head of your cock began to stretch her open. Her body resisted, her inner muscles clamping down in a vice-like spasm of panic. A sharp, pained cry tore from her lips. “Nnngh! S-stop!”
You ignored her. You leaned over her, bracing your weight on one hand beside her head, the other gripping her hip hard enough to bruise. You put your shoulder into it and shoved forward.
There was a terrible, tearing sensation of giving way, then a hot, impossibly tight sheath enveloped the head of your cock. Winter screamed, a raw, shattered sound. “AAAAHHHH! FUCK! IT HURTS!” Her body went rigid, her nails digging into your forearm, her back bowing off the bed.
You paused, letting her adjust for only a second, savoring the exquisite tightness, the burning heat of her virgin cunt. “That’s it,” you grunted. “Take it. You wanted to play with the big boys, Winter. Now you’ve got one.”
You pulled back an inch, then drove forward again, sinking another thick inch into her resisting body. She sobbed, a broken, wet sound. “N-no more… please… too big…”
“It’s not even halfway in, you stupid bitch,” you snarled. You fucked forward again, a harder, deeper thrust. Her cunt was drenched now, a mix of her own reluctant arousal and the slick, stretching strain. The wet, squelching sound of your penetration filled the room. With a final, brutal push, you buried yourself to the hilt, your pelvis grinding against hers.
You were fully inside her. Her cunt was stretched obscenely wide around your girth, every ridge and vein of your cock mapped by her clenching, fluttering inner walls. You could feel the deep, inner knot of her cervix, a firm, rounded obstacle at the very end of her tunnel, nudged by the tip of your cock.
Winter was sobbing openly now, tears streaming down her temples into her hair. Her body was shaking, but her cunt… her cunt was a furnace of conflicting signals, clamping down on you in painful spasms one second, then gushing fresh wetness the next.
“Look at you,” you panted, beginning to move, pulling back until just the head remained inside her stretched ring, then slamming back in. “Taking a cock like a born whore. Is this what you wanted? All that attitude, just hiding a needy little fuckhole?”
“I hate you!” she screamed, but her hips gave a tiny, betraying jerk upwards to meet your next thrust.
“You love this,” you corrected, picking up the pace. Your balls slapped wetly against her ass with each drive. The bedframe started a rhythmic, protesting creak. You reached down and ripped the sports bra up over her breasts, exposing them. They were small, perfect handfuls with large, dark pink areolas and nipples that were tight, pointed pebbles. You pinched one, twisting it hard.
She cried out, a sharp “Ah!”, but her back arched, shoving her breast further into your hand.
“You like it rough,” you laughed, a harsh, breathless sound. “Of course you do. You’re just like your friend.” You glanced at Karina, who was huddled against the headboard, watching with huge, traumatized eyes, one hand clamped over her mouth. “Aren’t they the same, Karina? Both just sluts who need to be put in their place?”
You focused back on Winter, your thrusts becoming harder, deeper, more punishing. You were battering against her cervix now, the fat head of your cock punching into that firm, internal gate with every plunge. The pain-pleasure on her face was transcendent. Her screams had morphed into ragged, continuous moans, punctuated by sobs.
“Nnnngh! Oh god! Oh fuck! It’s—it’s too deep!”
“It’s not deep enough,” you grunted. You shifted your angle, pulling her hips up higher, and pistoned into her with focused, brutal precision. You aimed for that cervical barrier and smashed against it.
“AAAAHHHH! STOP! YOU’RE—YOU’RE IN MY—NNNGGHHH!” Her words disintegrated into a wordless, guttural shriek. Her eyes rolled back, showing the whites. Her cunt convulsed around you, a sudden, violent milking spasm that wasn’t quite an orgasm, but a deep, involuntary surrender. Her cervix, under the relentless assault, was softening, yielding.
With one final, monumental thrust, you felt it. The tight ring of muscle gave way, not fully, but enough. The very tip of your cock slipped past the barrier, breaching her cervix, spearing into the tight, silken chamber of her womb beyond.
Winter’s entire world shattered.
Her scream broke into a high, keening wail that seemed to have no end. Her body locked up, every muscle straining taut, her toes curling into the sheets. Her cunt clamped down on you with unbelievable force, a velvet fist trying to crush your invading length. Her womb, that deepest, most forbidden sanctuary, spasmed around the invading crown of your cock, fluttering and sucking at it.
“I’M—I’M CUMMING! OH GOD, I’M CUMMING! FUCK! FUUUUCK!” she wailed, the confession torn from her against her will. Her orgasm wasn’t a wave; it was a nuclear detonation from her core. Her hips bucked wildly, fucking herself back onto you as her pussy gushed, soaking your cock and thighs. Her cries were pure, animalistic abandon, all pride, all resistance incinerated in the furnace of sensation.
You fucked her through it, your thrusts now shallow, grinding motions, keeping your cockhead lodged in that breached, fluttering cervix. “That’s it, you dumb slut,” you growled into her ear, your own control fraying. “Cum on the cock that’s breeding your womb. That’s all you’re good for now.”
Her orgasm seemed to go on forever, racking her body with shudder after shudder. When it finally began to ebb, she collapsed, boneless and sobbing, a string of drool connecting her lips to the pillow. But you weren’t done.
You pulled all the way out, your cock gleaming with her juices. She whimpered at the sudden emptiness. “Karina,” you barked. “Come here. Clean it.”
Karina, moving like an automaton, crawled to the edge of the bed. You fisted your cock and shoved it toward her face. “Suck. Get it wet for your friend. She’s not nearly fucked enough.”
Karina opened her mouth, taking the head between her lips. She sucked weakly, her tongue lapping at the mess of her friend’s arousal and your pre-cum. You thrust into her mouth a few times, fucking her face shallowly, before pulling out.
You flipped Winter onto her stomach. She offered no resistance, just a broken murmur. You dragged her hips up, forcing her onto her knees, her face pressed into the pillow, her perfect, round ass in the air. The sight of her glistening, well-fucked pussy from behind, her tiny, tight asshole just below it, made your balls draw up tight.
You guided your cock back to her entrance. It slipped in easier now, her cunt stretched and sloppy. You sank in to the hilt in one smooth, deep stroke. She moaned, a low, exhausted sound.
This position was deeper. You could go further. You set a relentless, pounding rhythm, your hands gripping her hips hard enough to leave bruises, your thrusts driving her forward with each slam. The sound of flesh on flesh, of wet, messy fucking, was obscenely loud. You were hammering against her cervix again, and now, with this angle, you were piercing it fully, the head of your cock tunneling into her womb with every deep drive.
Winter’s moans escalated again, rising in pitch. “Ah! Ah! AH! FUCK! YOU’RE IN MY STOMACH! I CAN FEEL IT IN MY STOMACH!” Her hand flew back between her legs, her fingers finding her clit, rubbing it in frantic, desperate circles. “I’M GONNA COME AGAIN! PLEASE, LET ME COME AGAIN!”
“Come, you worthless cunt,” you snarled, pounding into her. “Squirt all over my cock. Show me what a bred bitch you are.”
Her second orgasm hit her like a freight train. It wasn’t as loud as the first, but it was deeper, more convulsive. A gush of hot fluid erupted from her, soaking your cock and balls, dripping down her thighs. Her cunt clamped and fluttered around you in a rapid, insane rhythm. Her womb sucked at your cockhead, a warm, pulsing vacuum.
It was too much. The feel of her destroyed, submitting cunt, the visual of Karina watching, the absolute power—it tore your own climax from you.
You buried yourself as deep as you could go, your pelvis grinding against her ass, and let go.
Your cock swelled, pulsed, and then erupted. Thick, hot ropes of cum shot directly into her womb, jet after jet flooding that deepest chamber. You grunted, animal sounds, as you emptied yourself into her, painting her insides white. You could feel it, the pulsing of your shaft, the rush of seed, the way her cervix fluttered and milked you for every drop.
“Fuck… yes… take it… breed that whore…” you groaned, riding out the last waves of your orgasm.
When it was over, you stayed inside her, panting, your cock still twitching, still semi-hard. Cum was already leaking out around the seal of your cock, a white, creamy trickle down her inner thigh.
Winter was completely broken beneath you, her body limp, her face wet with tears and drool, soft, post-orgasmic whimpers escaping her lips.
You finally pulled out with a wet, sucking pop. A flood of your cum followed, dripping from her gaping, used hole onto the sheets below. You turned to Karina, who was staring at the mess, her face pale.
“Your turn,” you said, your voice hoarse. “Clean her up. Lick my cum out of your best friend’s pussy.”
On all fours in the middle of the massive king-sized bed, your palms and knees sinking deep into the cool, slippery white hotel sheets. The luxurious fabric whispered softly with every tiny shift of your weight, but there was no escaping her.
Or rather you didn’t want to escape.
Her petite, lithe little body was behind yours, that tiny frame somehow radiating total dominance. The inability to see what she was doing just made everything much hotter. You were completely at her disposal now.
She started agonizingly slow, making sure you felt every filthy second.
Her warm, velvety tongue pressed flat and heavy against your heavy, swollen balls, dragging upward in one long, deliberate, obscene stroke that made your toes curl hard into the sheets.
The wet heat of her mouth was intoxicating—soft, slick, and so fucking eager. She didn’t rush. She repeated it again and again, long, lazy licks from the very bottom of your sack all the way up to your tight, twitching hole, savoring every inch like she was tasting her favorite meal. Each pass left a thick, shiny trail of warm spit that dripped lewdly down your skin, cooling in the air and making your balls tighten and ache with need. You could hear the wet, sloppy sounds of her tongue lapping at you, the soft, hungry little hums vibrating straight into your core.
“Fuck, Winter…” you groaned deep in your chest, voice rough and broken already. “Your tongue feels so fucking good on my balls… don’t stop, baby.”
Then her small hand slid underneath you, those delicate black-polished fingernails grazing your skin on your thigh before her fingers wrapped around your thick, throbbing cock.
Her grip was so tight it was almost cute. Her tiny hand was barely able to close all the way around your impressive girth, the contrast making her moan with filthy delight. She started stroking you with slow, sensual pumps, twisting her wrist gently around the swollen, leaking head on every upstroke, or downstroke in this case, smearing the steady beads of precum that were already dripping from your slit.
“Mmm… fuck, look at this massive cock,” she breathed hotly against your ass, her voice low and husky, dripping with raw, nasty lust.
“So fucking big and thick I can barely get my little hand around it. God, I can feel you pulsing like a heartbeat in my palm… so heavy, so fucking full. You’re leaking all over my fingers already, you dirty boy. You love having your tight little hole licked while I jerk this fat dick, don’t you?”
She let her spit flow freely now, no shame, no holding back. Every time her warm tongue swirled around your sensitive rim, she drooled even more thick, warm strands of saliva out of her mouth, letting ir run down over your balls and soaking her stroking fingers completely.
The wetness made everything so slick and messy that her hand glided effortlessly, the obscene, wet squelching sounds of spit-slick skin on skin filling the quiet suite. Her tongue kept working you open in slow, filthy circles, the tip pressing and probing at your tight ring while her small hand pumped you faster, twisting and squeezing with perfect, teasing rhythm. Almost like you were getting milked.
“Shit… yes, just like that,” you growled, pushing back against her face instinctively. “Eat my ass, Winter… fuck, your tongue is so wet and hot.”
Winter moaned softly in response, clearly getting off on how she was breaking you down.
“Listen to those pathetic little groans,” she purred, pressing the flat of her tongue firmly against your asshole and licking in slow, lazy, deliberate circles that made your thighs shake.
“Such a big, strong rich man… reduced to moaning like a desperate slut for a tiny little girl like me. I’m eating your ass so fucking good and jerking this huge cock and you’re falling apart already. Does it feel good, baby? My warm tongue buried in your tight hole while I milk every drop of sperm out of you?”
She pushed her tongue a little firmer, dipping the wet tip just inside your clenching ring, fucking you shallowly with it while her hand stroked you even faster. More thick saliva dripped down in heavy, sticky strands, coating your balls, running down her fingers, and making the most pornographic wet noises every time she twisted her wrist around your swollen, purple head.
“Oh god… fuck, Winter,” you panted, voice cracking as pleasure spiked through you. “Your tongue’s inside me… shit, that’s so dirty and so fucking good. Don’t stop, please—keep licking my hole while you stroke my cock. You’re gonna make me lose it.”
“You’re leaking so fucking much already,” she whispered excitedly, her breath hot and shaky against your spit-soaked skin as she licked up another long trail of her own mess before diving back in deeper.
“I can taste how turned on you are. I want you to cum just like this, you filthy boy… I want you to shoot every thick rope of cum all over my little hand while my tongue is buried deep in your ass. Be a good boy and give it to me. Flood my fingers while I eat you like the greedy little slut I am.”
Your groans grew louder, deeper, more broken and desperate. Your arms trembled hard, muscles straining as the pleasure coiled tighter and tighter in your gut. Winter didn’t let up for a second. Her tongue kept working your hole in filthy, sensual, swirling motions, pushing deeper, fucking you with it while her small hand pumped you with relentless, perfect rhythm, the slick, messy sounds echoing obscenely around the room.
“Fuck, I’m close… I’m so fucking close,” you rasped, hips jerking between her tongue and her hand. Your abs contorting into ways you never knew possible.
“Keep eating my ass, baby. Tongue-fuck me while you jerk me off. Make me cum all over your pretty little fingers.”
Finally, the pressure snapped.
With a long, broken groan that turned into a deep, animalistic growl, you came harder than you ever had in your life.
Thick, powerful ropes of hot cum erupted violently from your cock, spilling in heavy, pulsing jets all over Winter’s small fingers, coating her black nails and dripping down onto the black silk sheets in messy white streaks. You kept cursing under your breath the whole time “Shitshit… fuck, Winter… yes, milk it all out” while she kept stroking you through every single throb and spurt, milking you completely dry as her tongue continued those gentle, soothing, filthy licks around your sensitive, twitching rim, drawing out every last drop.
When the final shudder finally left your body and you were left panting, spent, and trembling, Winter slowly pulled her tongue away with one last wet kiss to your hole and sat back on her heels. She looked down at her cum-covered hand with a satisfied, wicked little smile, the diamond necklace still sparkling between her small, perky breasts, now glistening with a light sheen of sweat.
She brought her messy fingers to her lips and licked a long, slow stripe right through the thick load you’d just painted her with, eyes locked on yours the entire time, never breaking eye contact.
“Mmm… fuck, so delicious,” she whispered, voice thick and dripping with pure lust as she sucked her fingers clean.
“Tastes even better when it comes from a big strong man who just got his ass eaten so good he couldn’t stop moaning.”
Then she crawled around to face you properly, her petite body sliding up against yours until her soft, full lips brushed right against your ear, her breath warm and teasing on your skin.
“That was just the beginning, baby,” she murmured, her voice low and filthy with promise.
“We’ve got the whole fucking night ahead of us… and I still need this huge, thick cock stretching my tight little pussy open. I want you to fuck me so deep I squirt all over these sheets, again and again, until I’m screaming your name and soaking everything.”
She kissed your neck softly, letting her teeth graze your skin just enough to make you shiver, then pulled back just far enough to flash you that confident, dimpled smile, her eyes sparkling with pure wicked intent.
“Ready for more, big boy? Because I’m nowhere near done with you.”
hey! now that i got your attention with a stunning minnie picture. there's a few words i'd like to say.
i know i have a release schedule for fics almost as bad as frank ocean. and i disappear as much as him. and i'm truly sorry for that. problem for me is this is really just a hobby and downright sometimes i don't really have the interest to maintain it. i have been writing but honestly im never satisfied with what i write because after a day of letting it sit to consolidate what i feel about what i've written, it just feels like a steaming pile of shit...
(largely, after that last yeji fic, i've contemplated deleting it so many times but whatever.)
mostly because the only thing that discerns me from other writers is that i write about well, armpits, a fair bit more. and i dont have that crazy storyline to carry me. im all about the in the moment language and dialogue.
but don't worry. this isn't a farewell post or whatever. i have been lurking around and enjoying the fics the wonderful authors put out on a more regular basis than i do. and even if i were to stop this smut writing stuff, i won't take a fic down.
im just here to say that i'll be on that new smut site, fanprose soon, and trying my best to pump out new fics. i'll still post here but i'll be more active on that side of the ksmut area.
genuinely i wish i could promise you guys a new fic, with the highest of the priorities being the rei one, but i can't say that anything is concrete right now...so yea...
The room was dead silent, a brutal contrast to the deafening noise that had filled her ears for the last few hours. Karina collapsed onto her bed, the mattress sinking under the weight of her body, still vibrating with adrenaline. The air conditioner hummed softly, cooling the sweaty skin on her thighs and chest, but it couldn't put out the fire burning in her crotch.
With trembling hands, she pulled her phone from the back pocket of her black skirt. The screen lit up with a blue glow in the room's darkness, revealing a notification that made her smile beneath the mask still covering her face. A message from a private fan group on KakaoTalk: "Did you see the photos of the girl on the bench? Those eyes... and that outfit..."
Karina opened the attached link. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw her own image, but not as she knew herself. On the screen, she was a stranger. A pagan goddess standing in the middle of Seoul's asphalt. There were five high-quality photos: one where her breasts arched over the shop window glass, another with her legs spread open and moonlight (or maybe a streetlamp) illuminating her wet pubes, and a final one where she looked at the camera with bright eyes behind dark sunglasses.
The comments were voracious. "Who is it?", "That mouth... that smile", "She looks so dirty." Karina felt a shiver run down her spine. It wasn't just the physical act that excited her; it was the validation of her secret. They—the strangers—now possessed a part of her that no one at SM Entertainment knew. She, the perfect leader, the flawless image, had been reduced to an anonymous object of desire for people who would never know her real name.
She stood up and walked toward the full-length mirror. The black mask still covered her mouth, but her eyes, now without glasses, shone with wild lust. She looked at her chest; the white blouse was wrinkled, buttons still open, showing red skin where sweat had dried. Her nipples were still erect, hardened by the cold air conditioner and the memory of others' gazes.
"This wasn't enough," she murmured to herself, her voice raspy. "It was just an appetizer."
The night in Gangnam was different from the day. The sun had given way to a fine rain falling on the cobblestones, making the neon lights of Gucci and Samsung signs shine brighter. People walked faster, seeking shelter under umbrellas or awnings, but the crowd in the entertainment districts remained dense. Karina felt the night air screaming for another dose of exposure.
She put a black leather jacket over her shoulders to protect herself from the cold and light rain, but didn't button it all the way. She left it open so the white blouse and her figure remained visible. She lowered the dark sunglasses to the bridge of her nose, leaving her eyes exposed to the night world. The plan was clear: go out again, but this time without the bench as a refuge. This time, she'd head where people stopped for longer.
She walked toward the Gangnam-daero metro station. It was a massive transit point, full of tired faces returning from work or leaving bars. The air smelled of rain and cheap perfume mixed with cigarette smoke. Karina stopped at the edge of the escalator going down to the platforms.
There, among the crowd, she decided to act. She didn't want to be seen by everyone, but enough to feel that pressure in her stomach. She approached a concrete pillar near the security check where a small group of men were waiting for the train. She leaned against the cold wall, letting the leather jacket fall open at her sides.
With a slow, deliberate movement, she slid her hands under the white blouse. This time it wasn't just a touch; she stretched the fabric down below her chest, exposing her bare breasts to the humid metro air. The black bra barely covered her nipples, which hardened even more with the contact of the cold.
One of the men, a young guy with a big backpack, stopped looking down and fixed his gaze on her. Karina looked directly at him through the dark glasses, keeping the mask on to hide her mischievous smile. He swallowed hard, visibly confused seeing such an elegant woman (despite the costume) exposing herself in a public place like that.
"What are you doing?" he whispered, though she knew he'd barely be heard over the noise of the approaching trains.
Karina didn't answer with words. Instead, under the thin white blouse, she let it fall down her body. Her breasts, barely covered by the tiny bra, moved slightly with each heavy breath. The fine rain coming in through the metro doors hit her shoulders, but she didn't move.
Then, with her free hand, she pulled the black skirt up to her waist. The cold air of the tunnel brushed against her thighs and crotch. She was already wet; what should have been her most private part was there, mixing with the sweat from the night. The fabric of the black thong stuck to her skin like a second layer, but now, without the blouse covering it, everything was visible for anyone looking in her direction.
The train arrived with a sharp whistle and the doors opened. Passengers started boarding, pushing past each other. Karina stayed still on the edge of the platform, a statue of flesh and desire among the anonymous crowd. A few men boarded the car and passed right in front of her. Their gazes dropped instinctively: first to her bare breasts, then to her lifted skirt, and finally to her exposed crotch under the metro rain.
One of them, an older man in a grey suit, stopped right beside her before entering. He looked her up and down with a mix of curiosity and contained lust. Karina felt her legs trembling, not from the cold, but from anticipation.
"Do you like it?" she asked in a barely audible whisper, lifting her gaze to him. "Do they like seeing a girl like me down here?"
The man blinked, confused by her audacity. Karina smiled behind the mask, a smile only he could guess at. He nodded slowly, not taking his eyes off her bare breasts.
"Yes," he responded with a raspy voice. "Mu... much."
Karina entered the car and sat in an empty seat near the door. She let herself fall back, letting her body stretch out along the full length of the bench. The leather jacket fell to the floor, revealing her legs and wet crotch completely to the eyes of all passengers passing down the aisle.
The train started moving with a rhythmic clatter. Every jolt made her breasts move freely and her nipples more exposed outside the bra, let her skirt ride higher, and let her skin brush against the wet thong fabric. She closed her eyes and let the sound of metal on tracks fill her mind. It was no longer just rebellion; it was a ritual.
As the train advanced and she started hearing the sounds of phones taking photos, she knew she was the muse for those pictures everyone would use at home... just imagining all those men coming to give themselves pleasure in bed seeing her... even some married ones surely would reject their wives that night to dedicate proper time to the photos and videos being taken of her right now. Karina felt pleasure start rising from her crotch up to her throat. She didn't need to touch herself to feel it. The gaze of strangers, the cold rain on her breasts, the complicit silence of the metro... all was enough.
But she knew this would pass too. Tomorrow, when she woke up, the photos would be in more places, and she'd have to decide whether to go out again or stay locked in her fame bubble. For now, however, she let herself be carried by the current of the train, an anonymous queen on a throne of metal and flickering lights, knowing the whole world was watching even if no one knew who she really was.
When the train arrived at her destination, she stood up with difficulty, legs still trembling. She put the white blouse back on, but this time didn't button it all the way. The leather jacket covered her only partially as she walked toward the exit, leaving behind a trail of looks and whispers that were already starting to circulate in passengers' phones.
Karina stepped out into Gangnam's night air where the rain had stopped but the asphalt still shone like a black mirror. She adjusted the dark glasses over her nose and smiled for herself.
"Tomorrow will be another day," she whispered. "And maybe... maybe we won't need masks."
She disappeared into the crowd, leaving behind the echo of her own footsteps and the memory of how it felt to be seen, really seen, for the first time in her life.
Synopsis: CEO Han and Secretary Karina formed a plan to make the two old businessmen seal the deal.
CEO Han is playing golf along with two potential investors of his tech company. Mr. Lee and Mr. Ahn. Both are veterans of their own businesses. Mr. Lee aged 62 while Mr. Ahn aged 65, they're still healthy and well.
Mr. Lee and Mr. Ahn's attention switching from golf to CEO Han's secretary, Karina.
"Look at his secretary. My wife will bury me alive if I had a beauty like her in my office."
"My son's wife will look like a maid if she's with that beauty. I can't believe how horrible my son's taste of women."
"She could easily become a model or actress. Just by her beauty alone, her face will be plastered everywhere."
"Victoria Secret must hire her. Imagine her in a lingerie. Goodness gracious."
As CEO Han lined up his putt, he couldn't help but overhear Mr. Lee and Mr. Ahn's comments about his stunning secretary, Karina.
He glanced over at her, admiring the way her dress perfectly fits her body. The dress exposed her upper back and thighs. He's been asked numerous times about why her secretary dress something like that, He always told them that he let Karina wear whatever she finds it comfortable. He didn't force her to wear a usual boring office outfit, which Karina hates it anyways.
"You know, I've thought about putting her in a few commercials and gravure magazines." CEO Han mused aloud. "But I feel pity for those models, because Karina would make them lose their job."
Mr. Lee chuckled, his eyes never leaving Karina's shapely rear as she straightened up from pulling out a golf ball from the hole. "I think she'd make a fantastic model for our businesses, you know people loves pretty women."
Karina's hips swayed seductively with each step, drawing the hungry gazes of Mr. Lee and Mr. Ahn like moths to a flame. She could feel their eyes roving over her body, drinking in every curve and dip.
As she reached CEO Han's side, she leaned in close, her breasts pressed against his arm. "Shall we head back to the clubhouse, gentlemen? I believe a satisfying hot sauna will be a nice place after playing golf."
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CEO Han, Mr. Lee and Mr. Ahn went to enjoy the private sauna. Towels covering their lower body as they sat and enjoyed the satisfying heat.
"Hey.. CEO Han. I know this is personal question but... Is your secretary... single?"
"Why, Mr. Lee? Are you trying to set Ms. Yu in a blind date?" CEO Han tried his best to sound normal. To him, Karina is only for him. He doesn't like other men trying hard to steal her away from him. As if Karina would let them tho.
"Well... Honestly, Yes I do. My son is recently divorced and her daughter has taken away from him. So maybe.. Just maybe you can talk to her about it."
"As much as I want to help you set them up together, You should talk to your son first. Maybe he doesn't want to go on a date and just wanted to see his daughter."
Mr. Lee blinked few times then he nods in understanding. "Yeah.. You're right. I just wanted to see my son happy again."
Suddenly, The sauna door swung open, revealing Karina's tantalizing form. The towel tied around her upper chest, barely containing her voluptuous curves. Mr. Lee and Mr. Ahn's jaws dropped in unison as they took in the sight before them.
"I hope I'm not interrupting anything important." Karina stepped into the steamy room, her hips swaying with each step until she's inches close to them. The thought of that towel is the only thing that covers her naked body, made the two old men feel breatheless in the steamy sauna room.
CEO Han stood up and walked behind Karina. He untied the knot and the towel drops down on the floor. Revealing her naked body to Mr. Lee and Mr. Ahn.
CEO Han's hands slid possessively over Karina's bare skin. She arched into his touch, her nipples hardening under his palms. The old men watched, transfixed, as CEO Han's fingers danced across Karina's smooth flesh, mapping out every inch of her curves.
Mr. Lee and Mr. Ahn's eyes feasted on the erotic display. Karina's perfect tits, her hips, the clean and hairless clit. They could hardly believe this vision of loveliness stood before them, offered up like a sacrificial lamb for their pleasure. The heat of the sauna seemed to intensify, fusing the air with lust.
CEO Han whispered to Karina's ear. "One hour. Make them seal the deal."
Karina nods.
CEO Han exits the room and closed the door shut, Leaving the seductive succubus and the two stunned old men in a private sauna room. He's confident that his secretary will get the job done.
With CEO Han gone, Karina turned to face the two men, a wicked glint in her eye. She slowly walked and sat in-between them.
"Well, gentlemen... I always find negotiations go much smoother when there's a little… personal chemistry involved." Her hands drifted down on the obvious tents on their towels, Mr. Lee and Mr. Ahn gasped as Karina began to stroke their cocks through the their towels. Their cocks throbbed in response, straining against their towels.
"Ms Yu... I... I... I have a wife." Mr. Ahn stutters but he never push her hand away.
Karina chuckled as she still stroking their cocks through the towels. "Of course, I know both of you already have a wife, kids and grandkids. But... whatever happens here, stays here. Nobody will know about this. Nobody."
Karina untied their towels to expose their stiff hard cocks. Karina wrapped her slender fingers around their throbbing cocks, feeling the heat radiating off them. She pumped her grip up and down, applying just the right amount of pressure to coax out lewd moans from the older men.
"Oh fuck, yes…" Mr. Lee groaned, his eyes rolling back as Karina worked his cock. "You certainly knows how to get a man's attention. Ms. Yu."
Mr. Ahn nodded vigorously, panting as he thrust his hips into her hand. "She's got a magic touch, doesn't she?"
Karina smiled, pleased with herself. This was going exactly as planned. Letting them feel they're welcomed by her, Make them slowly submit themselves to her.
"It seems like both of you are comfortable enough to start touching me. Don't be scared, gentlemen. I won't bite..."
They gulped hard and looked into each other. Mr. Lee and Mr. Ahn hestitantly moved closer to Karina as their faces mere inches of her ample breasts.
They both looked at Karina and she gave them a nod. Finally, they can unleash their uncontrollable lust and desire as they suckled and nibbled Karina's breasts. Mr. Lee on her left breast while Mr. Ahn on the right side.
Karina let out a soft moan as the older men's mouths latched onto her breasts, their tongues swirling around her sensitive nipples. She threaded her fingers through their graying hair, guiding them as they lavished on her breasts like hungry babies.
"Yes, just like that..." she breathed, arching her back to press her tits more firmly against their eager lips. "Show me how much you want me."
Mr. Lee and Mr. Ahn sucked harder, their teeth grazing her hardened peaks, sending jolts of pleasure through Karina's body. She could feel their cocks twitching against her thighs, leaking pre-cum.
With a sly smile, Karina raised her arms and locked over her head. Inviting them to worship her body more than just her tits.
They knew exactly what Karina wanted. They started licking from the curve of her breasts up to her flawless armpits. They tasted her natural body mixed with sweat caused by the sauna.
Karina shuddered with delight as the men's tongues traced the curves of her breasts, up to her armpits, savoring the salty tang of her sweat. She craved their hunger, their desperation to taste and touch every inch of her.
Their hands roamed freely now, squeezing and caressing her generous breasts, her supple thighs. When Mr. Lee wanted to taste her neck, Karina tilts her head for access. Mr. Ahn dived down to lick her belly button.
"Mmm, you're so good with your mouths." she panted, her nails digging into their heads. "Use me, Gentlemen. I'm here to satisfy your hunger."
With a bold move, Mr. Lee stood beside Karina and guides her head to his aching cock. Mr. Ahn slid down between her legs as he trailed his tongue on her thighs up to her wet heat. Karina spread her legs wider for access, she also opened her mouth to take Mr. Lee's cock.
Karina eagerly accepted Mr. Lee's thick cock, wrapping her lips around the engorged head. She bobbed her head up and down, taking him deeper with each pass, her tongue swirling the underside.
Meanwhile, Mr. Ahn's tongue delved into Karina's slick folds, lapping at her juices with gusto. He probed her entrance, teasing her clit with gentle flicks before plunging inside her warm channel. His fingers found her swollen nub, rubbing circles around it as he fucked her with his tongue.
"Fuck... It's been... ages... since I felt this. You knew how to use your mouth properly, Ms. Yu"
Mr. Ahn added another finger inside as he's too desperate for her sweet release. Lapping and wet fingering sounds mingled with Karina's muffled moans around Mr. Lee's pistoning cock.
Karina's moans vibrated around Mr. Lee's cock as she takes him deeper, her nose buried in his pubic hair. The salty tang of his precum mixed with her saliva, making her crave more of his flavor.
Mr. Ahn's fingers curled inside her, hitting that sweet spot that made Karina roll her eyes upwards. Her inner walls clenched around his digits, her juices flowing freely as he devoured her pussy.
Just as Karina teetered on the edge, Mr. Lee's cock hit the back of her throat, triggering her orgasm. Her body shook, her pussy spasming wildly as she came undone, gushing her release all over Mr. Ahn's probing tongue.
"Ahhh... Ahhh.. I'm... I'm gonna-"
Mr. Lee's hot seed flooded her mouth, Karina swallowed every drop, relishing the taste of his climax. She milked him dry, her throat working to swallow every last spurt.
At the same time, Mr. Ahn lapped up Karina's essence, drinking deeply from her quivering pussy. Her hips bucked erratically as she rode out her high, coating his chin and cheeks with her slick arousal.
Panting and spent, Karina finally released Mr. Lee's cock from her lips. She collapsed back against the bench, a satisfied smile playing on her lips.
"You taste sweet, sweetheart. But my cock needs your pussy right now." Mr. Ahn said after wiping his mouth, He positioned between Karina's spread legs.
Karina felt Mr. Ahn's cock nudging at her entrance. She held his cock, aligned it as Mr. Ahn pushing it inside of her.
Mr. Ahn's thick cock stretched Karina's still-quivering walls to the limit, filling her completely. She cried out at the sensation, her nails digging into his arms as he bottomed out inside her.
"Yes, give it to me! Fuck me hard, please!"
Mr. Ahn obliged, setting a relentless pace as he pounded into Karina's soaked cunt. Each powerful thrust sent shockwaves through Karina's core, her inner muscles rippling around Mr. Ahn's driving cock.
She met his movements with equal fervor, her hips rising to meet his downward crashes. Her breasts bouncing non-stop, it hypnotized Mr. Ahn as he groped her heavy and pillowly flesh.
Mr. Lee tilted Karina's head to the side as he claims her lips into his. Karina returned Mr. Lee's passionate kiss, her tongue dancing with his as they explored each other's mouths. The heat of the sauna intensified their arousal, causing beads of sweat to trickle down their flushed skin.
As Mr. Ahn continued to pound into Karina's dripping pussy, the trio's moans and gasps intermingled with the sauna's hiss and the rhythmic slap of flesh on flesh. The air was thick with the scent of sex, sweat, and musk, heightening their primal urges.
Breaking the kiss, Mr. Lee reached down to grasp Karina's breasts, squeezing the globes roughly as he pulled her tight against him.
Suddenly, Karina pushed Mr. Ahn away, Leaving both of then confused but when Karina positioned herself into all fours. Mr. Lee and Mr. Ahn knew exactly what she was trying to say.
Karina's moans echoed through the sauna as Mr. Ahn's cock plunged back to her dripping pussy, while Mr. Lee's thick cock shoved into her mouth once again. She gagged slightly as he forced himself deeper, but quickly adjusted, reveling in the intense sensation of being split open by their cocks.
The spanks on her ass only added to her pleasure. Karina rocked her hips back to meet Mr. Ahn's thrusts, her inner walls clenching around his girthy cock.
Mr. Lee gripped her hair, using it as leverage to fuck her face even harder. Saliva dripped down her chin as he relentlessly pounded her throat, his balls slapping against her chin with each brutal thrust.
"Ah, yes! Your tight little cunt is heaven!" Mr. Ahn groaned, his thrusts becoming erratic as he neared his climax. Karina's pussy clenched around him, milking his cock for all it was worth.
Her secons orgasm crashed over her as Mr. Lee's cock hit the back of her throat once more. Wave after wave of pleasure coursed through her, her inner walls fluttering wildly around Mr. Ahn's pistoning cock.
Feeling Karina's body quake beneath him, Mr. Lee's own release approached swiftly. With a guttural growl, he buried his cock to the hilt in her convulsing throat. Karina greedily swallowed his cum. Not wasting a single drop.
Mr. Ahn's cock throbbed as he pumped Karina full of his hot, sticky cum. Each pulse sent a fresh surge of semen inside of her, filling her to the brim.
Karina whimpered softly, overwhelmed by the sensation of being filled. Her body trembled, aftershocks of her intense orgasms still rippling through her.
As Mr. Ahn's climax subsided, he slowly withdrew his cock from Karina's drenched pussy. A river of their combined fluids flowed out, pooling on the wooden bench beneath her.
Breathing heavily, Karina collapsed onto the bench, her limbs splayed out in exhaustion. The warmth of the room seeped into her bones, soothing her ravaged cunt.
Because of the sauna's warmth, her lust and desire to finish her mission that was entrusted by CEO Han. Karina propped herself up, standing despite her legs feeling wobbly as she walked towards to Mr. Lee.
Despite her trembling legs and the lingering sensitivity from her recent orgasms, Karina mounted Mr. Lee with determination. She straddled his lap, grinding her slick folds along his semi-hard cock.
"I.. I need you... inside me, Mr. Lee.."
Karina's hands roamed Mr. Lee's chest as she worked to reharden him. She peppered his neck with kisses and nips, her tongue tracing the shell of his ear. The combination of her touch and the heat of the sauna soon had Mr. Lee fully erect once more, his cock twitching against her entrance.
Karina doesn't waste a second as sank down onto Mr. Lee's rigid cock, enveloping him in her tight, slick heat. Her velvety walls hugged him like a glove as she took him to the hilt.
"Oh god, yes!" she cried out, her head thrown back in ecstasy. Karina began to ride him with abandon, her hips rolling and gyrating as she chased her pleasure.
She pressed her breasts against Mr. Lee's face, smothering him in her soft, sweat-slicked flesh. The intoxicating scent of her arousal filled his nostrils as he breathed in her essence.
Lost in bliss, Karina bounced on Mr. Lee's lap, her inner muscles rippling along his shaft. Wet, obscene squelches filled the air, mingling with her wanton moans and the creak of the wooden bench.
Mr. Lee's hands gripping Karina's hips tightly, guiding her movements as she rode him with wild abandon. He thrust up to meet her downward motions, driving his cock even deeper into her welcoming heat.
Karina's breasts jiggled hypnotically with each bounce, the soft mounds engulfing Mr. Lee's face. He nuzzled into her cleavage, his tongue darting out to taste the salt on her skin.
"I'm… I'm close again." Karina panted, her inner walls starting to flutter around Mr. Lee's pistoning cock. "Don't stop, please don't stop!"
With a final, powerful thrust, Mr. Lee buried himself deep inside Karina's spasming cunt. His cock pulsed as he unleashed another torrent of hot, thick cum directly into her protected womb.
"Take it all, you insatiable minx!" he grunted, holding her hips flush against him as he emptied his balls.
Karina threw her head back with a silent scream, her pussy milking Mr. Lee for every last drop. Her entire body shook and shuddered, consumed by the intensity of her third consecutive climax.
Wave after wave of pure ecstasy crashed over her, leaving Karina a boneless, quivering mess atop Mr. Lee's lap. Their combined orgasms slowly leaked out around his cock.
As Karina lay atop Mr. Lee, drunked in the afterglow, she suddenly gasped as she felt Mr. Ahn's fingers probing at her butthole. Her eyes flew open wide, a mix of surprise and anticipation flashing across her face.
"W-Wait, Mr. Ahn- Oh!" she cried out, her voice hitching as Mr. Ahn pulled out her buttplug with a soft pop. Leaving her butthole wide open.
"Such a dirty girl, always ready for more." Mr. Ahn taunted, his voice dripping with lust and amusement. Karina's cheeks flushed at his degrading words, but she couldn't deny the thrill they sent through her.
Without warning, Mr. Ahn lined up his throbbing cock at Karina's open butthole. With a swift, forceful thrust, he speared into her, stretching her impossibly wide around his girthy cock.
"Aaahhhnnn~!" Karina wailed. The burning stretch gave way to intense, overwhelming pleasure as he bottomed out inside her. Her abused cunt clenched around nothing, still dripping with Mr. Lee"s excess cum.
Mr. Ahn's powerful thrusts rocked Karina's entire body, each deep thrust pushing her further up the bench. She felt his cock rearranging her guts.
"Yes, yes! Harder!" Karina begged shamelessly, lost in the exquisite agony of being so thoroughly claimed. Her neglected clit throbbed almost painfully, desperate for stimulation.
As if reading her mind, Mr. Lee stirred beneath her. His eyes locked onto her bouncing breasts and he lunged forward, engulfing one rosy nipple in his mouth. He suckled greedily, his tongue swirling around the sensitive bud as his hand kneaded her other breast roughly.
"Please, Mr. Lee! I need your cock in my pussy!" Karina begged breathlessly, her voice raw with desperation. Mr. Lee needed no further encouragement.
With a grunt, he positioned himself at her entrance, his hard shaft nudging against her swollen, dripping folds. In one smooth motion, he thrust up, burying himself to the hilt in Karina's messy, over-sensitive cunt.
"Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuuuuuck!" Karina screamed, as she was split open on both ends. She felt her insides hot and filled by two cocks thrusting simutaneously. This is exactly what she craved for so long.
Karina's screams of ecstasy echoed through the steamy sauna as her body was relentlessly pounded from both ends. The dual stimulation of having her holes stuffed full was rapidly pushing her towards another shattering climax.
"Fill me up! Please, I need your cum!" she begged frantically, her nails raking down Mr. Lee's chest. "Pump me full of your seed until it overflowed!"
Both men groaned at her wanton pleas, their thrusts becoming erratic as they neared their peaks. Mr. Ahn reached around to rub Karina's clit furiously, determined to make her cum on their cocks.
"I'm gonna flood this dirty cunt!" Mr. Lee growled, slamming up into her harder.
With a few more powerful thrusts, both men hit their peak. Mr. Ahn buried himself balls-deep in Karina's ass, his cock pulsing as he shot thick ropes of cum, painting her guts white.
"Fuck, take it all, you filthy slut!" he snarled, grinding against her.
At the same moment, Mr. Lee erupted in Karina's pussy, painting her insides white. His cock jerked and twitched as he pumped her full to bursting.
Karina threw her head back with a silent scream, her cunt and ass clamping down rhythmically on the spurting cocks. The feeling of being so completely filled and marked by their seed triggered her another orgasm.
As the waves of intense pleasure finally subsided, the three collapsed together on the wooden bench. Karina lay draped across Mr. Lee's chest, her legs still spread wide as Mr. Ahn carefully reinserted the buttplug, sealing his load deep inside her stretched hole.
Five minutes before the end of one hour challenge. The sauna door swung open, CEO Han is quite surprised, his eyes roamed at Karina, looking thoroughly ravished with disheveled hair, flushed face, and traces of fluids on her thighs, flashed him a genuine smile despite her obvious soreness.
His gaze drifted to the two older men sprawled out unconscious on the benches, clearly spent from their activities with his young secretary. He can heavy musk of sex hung thick in the humid air.
"So… How is the mission?" CEO Han asked.
"Well… I can confidently say that the deal is sealed, Sir." Karina said with a professional tone. "I let them worship my body and use it to fullfill their fantasies. I had a great time with them."
CEO Han's brow arched at her last words. He reached out to grope her buttcheek, as he pulled her against him. "You had a great time with these old geezers? Now I'm jealous."
Karina chuckled at CEO Han's playfullness. She wrapped her arms around his neck as she kissed his lips. "Ofcourse, Having sex with you is incomparable. I will always love the way you touch me, taste me and fuck me stupid."
CEO Han is satisfied at her response. Giving her butt a rough squeeze, that made Karina gasp. "Let's go to our room, slut. I waited enough to fuck you senseless again."
3.1k words | tags: smut, quickie, breeding, secretary sooin
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"Sooin-ssi, don't answer any more calls or emails for today," you slumped onto the sofa with a sigh. "I'm exhausted and could tell a couple of people to go to hell."
You took off your glasses and tossed them on the coffee table so you could rub your eyes. The day had been a whirlwind; you'd had to meet with four different clients in various locations across Singapore, all at very close intervals. Your feet were already aching, even though you had a driver. But what was really killing you was the headache.
"Hmh?" Sooin, your secretary of three years, peeked her head out from one of the hallways, kicking off her heels. She'd been with you all day, of course. You were sure you'd work ten times worse without her. "Is it your migraine again, boss?"
You let out a heavy breath and put your hands behind your head. Fortunately, the lights in the suite you'd booked for this business trip were warm, not cold. Otherwise, you might have felt like your head was about to explode.
"It hasn't gotten that far, but it's not too far off either," you admitted, closing your eyes again.
The suite was quiet, so you could hear Sooin's bare footsteps until they stopped in front of you. You opened your eyes to find her standing with her hands behind her back, one knee rubbing against the other. It was something you'd gotten used to by now, but Sooin looked particularly stunning that day, in a black outfit with sheer black stockings that covered both of her shapely legs completely. Her long, jet-black hair was pulled back in a high ponytail, her bangs, with two longer strands falling over her temples, perfectly cut to accentuate her big eyes.
"Did you take your medicine yet, boss?" she asked in a honeyed voice.
You frowned.
"Medicine? What med…"
Sooin knelt between your legs and made you spread your knees. Her captivating eyes, framed by a perfect eyeliner that gave her a feline look, were fixed on yours.
A smile spread across your face.
"Oh, right."
Many executives had affairs… outside of work with their secretaries. What was so strange, or wrong, about that? Staying out of that circle with such a hot—and brilliant— bombshell would have been downright negligent, especially since she was the one who initially made the first move. Of course, if you'd been married, you would have rejected her outright, unlike many of your colleagues. You weren't that kind of loser.
"How could you forget your medicine, boss?" Sooin placed her hands on the tops of your thighs and slowly slid them upward, closer to your crotch, then back down. "You need it almost daily… and it just so happens you have a lovely secretary who provides it whenever you want."
"Like right now?" You brought a hand to her face and gently brushed your thumb against her full, plump lower lip.
"That's up to you," Sooin said, giving you little kisses on your finger and palm. "As you can see, my hair is already tied in a ponytail. You just have to ask."
"Hmm, maybe you can help me decide if I really want it or not, what do you think?"
Sooin smiled.
"That sounds like a wonderful idea, boss."
Sooin stood up and placed her hands on the buttons of her blazer. She unbuttoned each one with great patience. Opening it, she took it off and let it fall to the floor. She was left in the tight, strapless dress underneath. Then, she turned her back to you, bent her knees, and slowly lowered her hips until she was sitting right in the middle of your lap. She shifted her bottom slightly, adjusting herself to feel your entire bulge.
"Will this be enough, boss?" Sooin asked. You just shook your head, but held her by the waist to signal her not to get up. "Hmm, okay. Let's try this then."
Instead of staying still on your lap, Sooin now began grinding her hips against your bulge, which slowly hardened into a rock-hard erection that your pretty secretary massaged with her buttocks. The movements were slow, perfectly measured. She glanced at you over her shoulder and let out a soft moan when you gave her buttock a slow, firm squeeze.
"Is that a yes?" Sooin asked again.
"That's a 'keep going a little longer and you'll get your answer.'"
Sooin paused for a second, lifted her hips, and hiked her dress up to her waist, right at the hem of her stockings, so her burgundy lace panties were exposed beneath the sheer fabric. Planting her nice, round ass back against your bulge, she continued grinding her hips, both back and forth and in subtle circles.
But knowing that wasn't enough for you, Sooin also pulled down the top of her dress and gathered the ends together, leaving the entire garment rolled up to her navel. Then, she reached behind her back to remove her bra and tossed it aside. You were stunned—as always—by her bare back. Her smooth, creamy, flawless skin became the target of a flurry of kisses as you also covered her shoulders and the nape of her neck.
"Well?" Sooin gasped.
"Mmm, let me think about it a little longer."
You reached in front of Sooin's body, took her chin in your hand, and turned her face so your lips met. Sooin let out a soft moan against your mouth, pressing her bottom against your bulge. Then you slid both hands from her waist up to her breasts, small but round and full, giving them both a squeeze.
"Mmmgh fuck, just ask me to suck your cock, boss," Sooin gasped between kisses.
You let out a little laugh. You probably needed it more than she did, but her desire to please you was overwhelming to her, apparently.
"Will you let me rip these stockings later?" you asked, massaging her breasts, her small nipples hard.
"I let you cum in any hole you want all the time," Sooin said. "Stockings are nothing."
You smiled.
"Suck my cock then, Miss Kim."
Sooin quickly slid off your lap and fell to her knees on the floor between your legs. Her gaze didn't even return to your eyes, but remained fixed on your bulge as she leaned in to kiss and squeeze it through your pants. You throbbed beneath her lips, making her gasp and bury her face in the fabric.
Her eyes finally returned to yours as she moved her hands to your belt and undid it, followed by the button of your pants and finally the zipper. You lifted your hips, and let her take hold of both the hem of your pants and your boxers, pulling them down to your ankles. Sooin gasped, her gaze once again fixed on your now-free cock.
"Mmm, how do you want it today, boss?" Sooin asked, her hands on your thighs as she kissed the back of your shaft, near your balls. "Nice and slow, or sloppy and fast?"
"I'll leave that decision up to you this time, Sooin-ssi."
"Nice and slow then… But you'll still have to fuck my brains out."
"I always do."
Sooin prolonged the kisses for a little while longer, leaving light marks of her lipstick all over your shaft and balls. A little after a minute, she stuck out her tongue and licked from the base to the tip, which she then trapped between her fleshy lips to give it the first sucks, her hand wrapped around your shaft.
You didn't call that woman's blowjobs 'medicine' just for roleplay; she was a damn marvel at it. Somehow, she made each and every one of your ailments disappear, replaced by the most overwhelming sensation of pleasure. Perfect lips, immaculate technique, a long and prodigious tongue, a penetrating gaze. It all formed the perfect cocktail for you to go absolute nuts.
That day was no exception. Sooin moved her head in slow, pumping motions along the length of your cock, so delicious that you felt each suck take barely a breath away from you. Your arms rested comfortably on the armrests, simply watching her work, your gasps mingling with the soft moans, heavy breaths, and wet sounds emanating from Sooin's mouth.
"How's that headache holding up so far, boss?" Sooin asked after briefly pulling you out of her mouth to tap the tip against her stuck-out tongue. "Is the medicine working?" She guided you into her mouth, sucking with loud slurps.
"It's definitely doing something, fuck," you gasped.
You reached for Sooin's head and guided it deeper. Sooin took a couple more centimeters into her mouth without any problem, but not content with that, she looked you in the eyes as she took the rest of your cock in, stopping the moment her nose touched your pubis.
Sooin gagged against your cock, especially when you pushed her head down, but she held it in her throat like a damn champ.
And the best part is that she looked you in the eyes every-damn-second.
About five seconds later, Sooin released you from her mouth with a strong breath and masturbated the tip of your cock.
"I hope I'm being of help, boss," she purred. "I could never allow you to work with a headache."
"And that's why you're the best secretary I've ever had," you gasped.
"And the best you'll ever have," she emphasized.
You chuckled softly.
"You're not wrong."
Sooin took you into her mouth to suck you a little longer. Then out of her mouth again.
"Well? Are you going to use me now, boss? Wasn't I your personal little slut?"
"It offends me that you doubt it at this point."
You got up from the sofa and helped Sooin to her feet. As you took off your shoes and slipped out of your pants and boxers, you put an arm around her waist and pulled her in for a kiss. Sooin threw her arms around your neck and let your tongue into her mouth, completely submissive to you.
You kissed her for a good few seconds, squeezing her ass. Sooin returned the favor, stroking your cock with her palm facing down, every inch of it slick with her saliva. You gradually moved apart, guiding her clumsily—and blindly—toward the dining table, unwilling to break the kiss.
Sooin's light tap against the edge of the dining table was your cue to end the kiss, turn her around, and bend her against the table, a plastic fruit bowl serving as a centerpiece directly in front of her face. To your left, the dazzling views of Singapore's financial district unfolded before you, visible through a floor-to-ceiling window.
You took your cock and positioned it between Sooin's thighs, her crotch directly above it. Sooin knew exactly what to do and pressed her thighs together, crushing your shaft from both sides. A moan escaped your lips. If there was anything better than that woman's mouth, it was her thighs.
"Mmm, you love those fucking thighs, don't you, boss?" Sooin asked, her hands on the table but her arms straight, looking at you over her shoulder. "They feel so good around that cock?"
"Fucking delicious."
You braced yourself with your hands on her waist and began to move your hips back and forth to slide your cock between her fleshy thighs. Sooin straightened her back, pressed her back against your chest, and reached behind you to grasp the back of your neck and guide you into another kiss.
Sooin tensed her thighs to increase the pressure around your shaft, caressed by the silky texture of her stockings against your skin. You wrapped your arms around her and pulled her close. As the seconds ticked by, you grew faster and stronger in pace, your pelvis slamming against her buttocks as you fucked her thighs.
You could have gone on like that all night if it weren't for your even stronger carnal desires. A couple of minutes later, with one hand on her waist and the other on her back, you forced her to bend against the table again, this time propping herself up on her elbows. You dropped to your knees, her perfect ass raised in front of your face.
Then came your favorite moment.
You dug the fingers of each hand between Sooin's buttocks, making sure to catch the fabric of her stockings, and pulled hard to the sides. The fabric ripped like butter with a hot knife. You didn't stop until you had exposed a good portion of her buttocks and her slit was perfectly accessible.
There was nothing left to stop you from ramming that pussy like an animal, but first you had to be grateful for the meal. How did you do that? Simple: you grabbed Sooin by the hips, buried your face between her buttocks, and kissed every inch of her soft, spongy skin as if it were the holy grail.
A few seconds later, though, you pulled her lace panties aside to reveal her beautiful, wet pussy. You buried your mouth there, licking between her silky folds as you squeezed her buttocks. Sooin filled the dining room with her moans, and pushed her hips against your face as you licked her clit.
After a little while of getting Sooin ready to be more or less at the same point as you, you finally stood up. Sooin looked into your eyes as you took your cock, moistened it with saliva, and rubbed it a couple of times between her folds before sliding inside. You moaned, but Sooin moaned even louder, staring up at the ceiling.
After three years, Sooin now hated that you were slow every time you thrust into her for the first time, so you went at a steady, deep pace from the start, your hands digging into her waist. Your pelvis slammed against her ass harder and harder, making those beautiful cheeks jiggle with every thrust.
"Mmmgh fuck yeah boss, use me, use me!" Sooin moaned.
You grunted, raised a hand, and wrapped her ponytail around your fist, pulling it back sharply. Sooin cried out in pleasure, her head permanently thrown back. You let the seconds tick by. Sweat trickled down your temples from the now frenetic pace. The entire suite resonated with the sounds of flesh slapping together, punctuated by Sooin's hot moans.
"I'm going to cum all over your cock, boss!" Sooin whimpered. "Your personal little slut is going to cum really fucking hard!"
It was already tight, but you tightened your grip on her ponytail even more, now much closer to her scalp. Sooin groaned. In her desperate search for something to hold onto, she even tilted the bowl of fake fruit, knocking over a couple of pears that rolled across the table and onto the floor.
Just as she had predicted, Sooin exploded in her climax with a sharp moan. Her pussy gripped your cock. Its throbbing made you moan along with her. Her whole body trembled deliciously. Especially her legs, which threatened to give way for just a few seconds before she regained her balance.
"Give me more, boss, more!" Sooin whimpered.
You pulled out of her quickly and released her hair. Sooin straightened her back, turned around, and let you put an arm around her waist to lift her onto the edge of the table. She leaned back, propped herself up on her elbows, and spread her legs wide. Her pussy, with a small patch of pubic hair trimmed into a triangle, was ready for you.
Without wasting a moment, you slid your cock back into her pussy, gripped her waist, and continued pumping her hips. Sooin looked at you with lustful eyes, her face contorted with pleasure, her mouth slightly open. You slid a hand down her abdomen and brought it to her mouth, inserting two fingers for her to suck.
Sooin moaned around your fingers, sucking with devotion. Seconds later, you pulled those same fingers out and slid them to her chin, coating the area with her saliva, the same saliva which, once you leaned forward, you licked clean with your tongue.
"How the hell are you so hot?" you asked, looking at her closely, your fists pressed against the table, knuckles clenched.
Sooin couldn't answer, she just moaned repeatedly, staring into your eyes.
"Keep looking at me like that and I'll put a fucking baby inside you," you growled.
As if you'd loosened a screw in her mind, Sooin raised her eyebrows, moaned louder, and nodded desperately.
"Is that what you want, Sooin-ssi?" you smirked. "You want my hot seed straight into your womb? I thought I heard you say you were ovulating."
Again, Sooin nodded as if she were begging for her life and gripped your neck to crash her lips against yours. You straightened your back and pulled her closer so she was properly seated on the edge of the table. She then wrapped her strong legs around your body, and instinctively you embraced her, lifted her into the air, and thrust like a madman into her pussy.
Not long after, Sooin came again without warning, but you kept fucking her as if you'd just started. She whimpered and let her head fall back, letting you pound her pussy at will until you felt your climax just around the corner.
Sooin looked into your eyes as you laid her back on the edge of the table and made her lie down. Then you brought her thighs together and pressed them as hard as you could against her body. That way, you thrust relentlessly, grunting, until you burst inside her.
You rolled your eyes and stayed deep inside her pussy as you unloaded stream after stream of hot cum against her womb, throbbing between her walls. Sooin gasped loudly and arched her back, her eyes rolling back too, feeling you fill her up like a goddamn cream pudding.
"Fuck… fuck… fuck…" Sooin sighed. "I feel all that fucking seed inside me, boss. So thick… so hot… so abundant. My pussy is going to explode."
Even though you'd already stopped cumming, you released her legs, pulled her close to kiss her, and stayed inside her for a while longer. The limp state of your erection was what forced you to withdraw. You both looked down. Just a trickle was leaking between her folds.
"Let me clean that up, boss."
Sooin wrapped your tie around her hand and ripped it from your neck, bringing it to her crotch and wiping herself with it. When she finished, she simply tossed it to the floor. Not that you were particularly amused, but you weren't going to complain.
"I hope your medicine worked, boss," Sooin giggled. "We'll see if what I feel inside me turns into something else in a few days," she grabbed your neck and placed a soft kiss on your lips. "That way we'll be bound… for life."
