You groaned and grabbed your phone, hoping it wasn’t who you thought it was.
You up? the text read, timestamped 1:14 AM. You groaned, set the phone back down—then came the call.
“Live Devil” started blaring just as you’d finally started drifting off.
You recognized the ringtone. With a sigh, you picked up.
“You’re up. Yay!!! Ice cream at your place?” she said.
“Seung, it’s—” you checked the time “—1:20 in the morning. Can this wait like twelve hours?”
“Nope. Now come over and bring that Beach Day pint you’ve got,” Seunghee demanded.
“Hey did you ever consider that I may be out of Beach Day?” you asked.
“Pfft. You, out of ice cream?” Seunghee challenged. You can practically hear the smirk over the phone, “You always keep a pint stashed for us. Besides, this’ll be three Saturdays in a row—so bring your ass over here.” She affirmed
You groaned knowing she was in fact right.
“Okay, Seung.” You gave in and hung up, then glared at the ceiling, already dreading how the rest of the night would go. You didn’t move until the “FAH!” of another text dragged you out of bed.
“I’m gonna fold her in half,” you grumble as you get dressed.
You headed to the freezer, grabbed the ice cream, and teleported straight to Seunghee’s front door.
You knocked and waited, turning over the choices that had led you here. You were a courier, hired across several companies for your punctuality and low rates. Seunghee was one of your clients turned friends—an young executive who’d taken a liking to you.
That liking turned into her spending her off-hours with you, and somewhere in that time she’d discovered your teleportation. She’d been a menace about it ever since, roping you into covering vacations, shopping runs, and business trips on the strength of your “talent.”
You wondered if you should’ve just let the call go to voicemail—but the second the door opened and she smiled at you, you knew you’d made the right choice.
“Hey,” she said, going for flirtatious. “Come here often?”
You rolled your eyes, smiling despite yourself, and walked in, handing her the pint. Her penthouse greeted you the way it always did: full of art and statues you’d long since stopped being impressed by.
“Yes!” Seunghee said, snatching the pint and doing a little happy dance in place before flopping onto the couch.
She darted to the kitchen for two spoons, then raced back to sit beside you. Handing you one, she said, “Having a teleporter on speed dial really does have its perks.”
You nodded, too tired to argue, as she popped the lid and took the first spoonful.
“Where’s the cozy metal playlist?” she asked.
You gave her a look. “You told me, and I quote, ‘don’t ever play that dogshit in my penthouse.’”
She sighed. “Maybe I like it now. Maybe it reminds me of someone.”
You groaned theatrically. “You’re such a whiny brat.”
“Yeah, yeah. Now put on the playlist, and tell me about your day.” Seunghee asserted.
"So pushy today," you chide Seunghee, who's now alternating between bites of pizza and spoonfuls of ice cream like she's running some kind of dessert relay.
She pauses long enough to shoot you a look, bottom lip already jutting out. "I'm the youngest executive at Square Industries. I'm allowed to be a little pushy."
"To your employees, maybe. Not to me. I'm your friend," you challenge.
She just smiles, easy and unbothered. "Same difference."
You look at her, something mischievous creeping into your expression. "I'm gonna baby trap you. Get you nice and pregnant, force you to be nice to me for the kid's sake." It's meant as a tease—harmless, the same register as when she jokes about retiring you early and keeping you around as a trophy husband. The kind of thing you say because the absurdity is the point.
Seunghee doesn't take it that way.
She goes red, quiet for a beat too long, and you feel the first prick of oh no, did I actually cross a line before she finally speaks, mouth still half full.
"No balls."
You blink. Once. Twice. Your brain scrambles for a response and comes up empty for a solid three seconds. "I beg your lowest fucking pardon," you finally manage. "Are you seriously challenging me right now?"
That's when she sets her food down. Actually sets it down—on the coffee table, no less, which for Seunghee is basically a declaration of war. She turns to face you fully, and before you can process what that means, she's climbing into your lap, shifting and resettling like she's got all the time in the world, until she's parked directly over your crotch like she owns the deed to it.
The absurdity of it—the sheer scale of it—hits you like a freight train. Your eyes lock with hers.
"Yeah, I am," she says, voice low and far too steady for someone who was blushing thirty seconds ago. "You think you're so funny, flirting with me and then bailing every time we're actually about to kiss. So I think you're a pussy who's too scared of women to even touch one."
You search her face for a crack—hesitation, a flicker of second-guessing, anything that says she's bluffing. What you find instead is heat. Unshakable, deliberate, daring you to move first.
So you do the logical thing and kiss her. she moans, like deadass just moans into it before falling into it more. the two of you stay connected for like 4-5 minutes before the need to breathe overrides the brewed lust between the two of you.
when the need finally resurfaces and the two of you disconnect, Seunghee looks at you. her cheeks are red with blush, her eyes lidded with lust.
"bedroom now," she says emphatically. you nod but as you get up Seunghee looks at her food and rushes to put both the ice cream and the pizza away.
as she finishes, she says, "I am going to need to eat something after I devour you," you gulp a bit scared at what you have potentially incurred.
the two of you make it to the bedroom and Seunghee tears into you...literally. she grabs you and locks you in a heated kiss at first, then she rips your shirt open before also ripping your pants open as she pushes you to the bed. when she breaks the kiss you wince and say, "thankfully I didn't like this shirt,"
Seungehee is much to far gone and says, "I'll buy you a whole new wardrobe today, but for now Mommy's hungry,"
without any hesitation or preamble, she yanks your underwear down, revealing your already stiff cock. Seunghee stares at it for a moment, then glares up at you. "you have been hiding this beautiful cock from me all this time? FUCKING ASSHOLE," she growls before taking you into her mouth. At first you try to get her to take it slow until the pleasure hits. your warning dies on your lips as she wastes no time throating you.
deep glucks and gagging noises echo through the bedroom as she devours you. you get harder in her mouth as she does so causing Seunghee to smirk around you cock. you groan as she continues. her tongue is desperate, frenetic and racing around your shaft trying to see which spots give the most pleasure and which ones will undo you the quickest. she finds that when he head is tilted about a 24 degree angle to the right while she licks around you counterclockwise has you twitching and leaking more for her.
when she finds this angle, she's on you relentlessly, and you can't hold it in anymore and explode down her throat. Seunghee drinks you like a cold soda her eyes never breaking contact with yours. however when your done cumming she doesn't stop sucking.
she keeps sucking you off through the pain of overstimulation until you get hard again. when you are able to get it back up is when Seunghee finally stops.
Seunghee lifts herself up to face you with the most devious smile you have ever seen on her. she makes a show of finally taking everything off. first it's her blouse that she unbuttons slowly one by one. she smiles at you while she does. when it's off she moves on to her pants, which she makes a very slow and deliberate show of revealing her thicc mouthwatering thighs that you can't take your eyes off of.
this leaves her in only her bra and panties. as she waltzes over to you showing off her thighs and fat ass, you have grown to love and lust over in a very short time.
Seunghee plants herself on your crotch and says, "oh so big and hard for me,"
you are about to attempt a cheeky response that is eaten up when her hands grab you and she kisses you. as she does, she begins to grind her pussy and ass along your shaft. she's drenched as she coats your shaft in her juices in between kisses, in what should be breathing, she moans as she rides you even harder.
you watch as she doesn't even try to go slow or measured, and she takes her pleasure from you while you're still obscenely hard.
the pace and her fervor lead to her orgasm that she doesn't even try to fight or prolong. she cums and shakes for a moment, then she composes herself.
"Okay enough appetizers time for the main course," Seunghee says, as she lowers herself onto you when she pushes her panties to the side. when she fully sheathes you it's like the breath is taken from both of your lungs. the two of you gasp at Seunghee's tightness.
"Fuck you feel tight like a virgin," you groan as her walls wrap you in a death grip.
Seunghee moans as you squirm under her.
"Don't fucking move," she says as she tries to adjust to your size,
you try to remain still, but the tightness of her walls and the slight movements of her hips overwrite your ability to think.
you lift Seunghee up then lay her on the bed, "Hey what the fuck...oh fuck keep going," she says as you slide out before folding her into mating press and thrusting into her like there is no tomorrow.
you pound into her tight pussy with reckless abandon, as you do, you stare into her eyes and say, "Gonna breed you. Gonna make this sexy pussy mine forever,"
Seunghee moans as she says, "PLEASE! Claim this pussy as yours,"
and you are a gentleman, of course.
you pound into Seunghee's pussy as she calls your name.
eventually the overwhelming sensations get to both of you, and you both cum together, but neither of you stop until there is absolutely nothing left in the tank. you collapse next to her, and she stares at you smiling before saying.
"What's your ring size?"
you laugh and say, "I don't know,"
Seunghee pouts and says, "Well find out so I can propose because I can't let you or that dick just poof away,"
I just feel like she's the type that'll love some first thing in the morning, nasty, sensual, romantic, slow dry, anal sex. As I slowly push through her dry tight smelly butthole, making her feel how her muscle ring is slowly giving out; under the pressure that each inch of my cock provides. While her rectum welcomes me with a warm embrace, as I graze every inch of her walls with the slow movements of my tip exploring it. The intense slow movements of my hips are accompanied; with the sounds made from the air my dick pushes out & in. For the pain of having her butthole slowly tare open, disappears into her empty moans; when she opens her mouth nothing comes out but a facial expression of loosing her breath. Yet she doesn't pull away, in fact she sticks her ass back even more; trying help my dick go deeper in her ass.
As I wrap one arm around her hips and held them in while I slowly pump into her butthole; with my other arm underneath her neck, having it reach over; giving her something to hold onto as body recoils helping her find her voice. Which comes out as whining moans with a sense of pain & pleasure. Until I turned her head towards me, having a barefaced Hanni look at me with a face filled with pleasurable pain. As I tell her "good morning, love!" and all she could do is nod her head, saying "guuad muurning! I l uv you". While I went in for a kiss which turned into a passionate messy make out session. With each others morning breath filling up our mouths, as we trade saliva by getting out tongues tied with each others from French kissing. Having the natural scent of her saliva hit my nose & cover my lips, as I take my hand I had over hips; and use it to caress her freshly shaved pubic area with a soft touch my fingers tips.
(P.S. I didn't know she had big lips)
Sending chills up her spine as I pinch & tease her clit, while her rectum was still filled with cock; and she was still grinding her ass on my pelvis, until finally her legs straighten out and she had her morning orgasm & her ass filled up with my warm cum. That's when I pulled away, with both if us breathing & panting; as I told her "hope you have a good day!" While she went in for one last kiss, that she was going to make into another make out session; until I gave her a smack on the butt, making her get up and walk towards the shower. Knowing how to, she teased me on her way there by swaying her hips; as I stare at her ass seeing how the cum drip down. Just to look up to see her looking back at me with a mischievous smile on her face. That's how I would send Hanni off to spend her idol day, as I see her doing promotions & interviews; thinking how that's the same ass that I filled up in the morning.
Recap:
After the living arrangement with the girls was settled—one that felt less like a choice and more like something decided for you—Chaeyoung brought your exhausted self to your new home, which ended, unsurprisingly, in a "lovely" night. Apparently, it was her goodbye before her temporary absence.
“You should’ve let me pack it yesterday.”
Jiheon starts scolding the moment she steps into your ransacked room. She’s not wrong. Last-minute packing turned your closet upside down this morning, and now your floor looks like a battlefield of half-folded shirts and rogue socks.
“I'm sorry, okay?” flashing her a sheepish smile hoping it would stop making her upset; well, pouting, still but you hope your smile had some effect. “It might look messy, but I’m almost done. Just a few more clothes left—and hey, now you get to choose what I wear for the whole trip. That’s a win, right?”
She rolls her eyes, circling your room like a judgmental fashion inspector. “Why would you volunteer for an extra shift the day before our trip?” she mutters, picking up a pair of jeans and holding them up to you. If she approves, she folds them and tosses them to your luggage. If she doesn’t, she hurls them at you like she’s feeding laundry to a dragon. You catch a flying shirt and quickly fold it, lips twitching as you try not to laugh.
“I just had to,” you admit. “With me gone, Gyuri doesn't get along with the rest of the staff—” you fucked up, You shouldn’t have said her name. Especially not with that tone of concern, yet you've done it—done for.
You turn with every part of your body screaming for flight, afraid to face the raging bee behind you. Lotion bottle gripped in her hand. “How about this, when we get there no rides, lets just walk around the beach till sunset.” You appease, trying not to snap the winding catapult as you approach her slowly. “Look, we can leave now. I'm done packing, with a few extra hours to spare.”
“And the sunscreen?”
“Of course! For ease of access, in this pocket it's right here… It's—its—” it's not there. Ah shit. You've accepted your going on this trip with a lotion bottle dent on your head.
But the bottle never came, instead you hear… giggling. Then laughter. You look up to find Jiheon clutching the sunscreen bottle, shaking with amusement. “Dummy,” she laughs, teasing you with it like it’s a trophy.
It was a prank. You’ve fallen for it. For her. Again.
“Come here!” you yell, lunging toward her as she squeals and scrambles away, still laughing. You chase her around the room, your luggage forgotten, your heart full.
A yelp echoes off the walls as you finally catch her, arms wrapping around her waist as the two of you tumble back—falling into the bed in a tangle of limbs and joy.
Laughter lingers like perfume in the air. Then, slowly, it fades. So do your movements.
On top of you now, her hands resting on your chest, breath warm against your neck.
That smile—so infectious even her eyes can’t help but mimic it—softens as she looks at you, the kind of look that says she’s happy just being here. With you.
You reach up, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear.
“A few extra hours to spare?” she teases, voice low and playful. “Did I hear that right?”
Her hand comes up, gently covering your eyes. She leans in closer, breath ghosting over your lips. You can feel the warmth of her skin, the nearness of her—just inches now.
Your breath hitches.
You wait.
But the kiss never comes.
It never will.
Your eyes break open. So does the breath you'd been holding back. The welcome of your palms tins into a grip you can't let go of.
Gone is the laughter that made the room bright. Gone is the warmth that made it worth staying in. Gone is the sunlight that kept it clear.
Here, only you. Left alone. A desolate room.
You want to lash out, but your body won't move—afraid that even a twitch would shatter something already broken. You want to scream, but your voice is adamant to cry out for something already wrong. You want to wake from a nightmare that has clung to you long past where dreams should end.
Yet somewhere, your name is called.
By her. By someone else.
It calls again, holding you steady in your breathless state.
"Breathe."
An eerily soothing voice—one that makes you obey before you even register the request.
A caress, in contrast to your cold sweat.
"It's just a dream."
It was.
"It's okay."
It is.
She calls for you once again. Her voice is a lullaby by nature—comforting, yet it feels less like an ask and more like a command.
Before you can see past the silhouette that cares for you, she rests her hands over your eyes and slowly closes them for you.
"Sleep."
And you did.
Willingly so.
Willingly.
…
..
.
The day starts slowly. You wake up slow. Everything is—it just feels slow. Like the world asked for a rest, and it was granted.
Sunlight that normally creeps in by morning is already there when you open your eyes, yet it hasn't moved since then. The clock by the desk seems to have had its own lazy morning too; you blink twice—really open your eyes—leaving it to assumption that you'd need a splash of water before you'd see it move at all.
It doesn't feel wrong. Odd, maybe—or maybe not. It's calm. Everything is. And it makes you breathe not in a way you have to, but in a way you want to—slowly, deeply, with no hurry and no goal.
Then you feel it: the first movement in the room. The rustle of weight beside you, unnoticed at first as she'd been cozy beneath the blanket, but undeniable now as she chooses your arm as her pillow.
She's curled into you—weight and space both—yet the pressure feels more relieving than anything else. Lighter, even with her there.
"Chaeyoung…"
You call out, and it feels like everything exhales with it. Like everything now feels right. You faintly hear the sprinkle of rain greeting the grass. The busy road, the busy street, the busy day.
And her—you feel her breathe, and more, you feel her groan.
"You're still going to sleep?" You have to pause your smile to ask her the question. It comes with a hope that she says no, that she rise and greets you with her ever teasing laugh—though not ending this morning wouldn't be so bad either, given how comforting and relaxing it's been to just lie here.
You gave it a second, then nothing.
"Chae?" You asked again. This time with a touch of impatience.
There was enough rustling that the top of her head finally peeked out despite her being wrapped in the blankets.
Maybe it was a ruse to wake her up. Maybe just simple endearment. Last time this had happened, it was Chaeyoung who'd teased you awake—you consider this making it even.
A soft caress through her hair, a finger or two pressing gently against her scalp. A playful massage, fingers twirling through the strands.
There was movement you brushed off, but eventually she had to react—a head shake, more alive than the last, though still the bare minimum effort to shrug off your game.
"Are you really going to keep sleeping?"
This time you lean in close, make sure the whisper of her name lands right at her ear. She hitches, and the blanket hitches with her.
It was adorable, oddly so. For someone who'd been consistently sultry with her voice, who'd done nothing but trace fingertips over you—Chaeyoung the temptress—this morning she'd done nothing but tempt you back to sleep beside her.
So you did. Willingly. Partially.
You lay back down, tucked into the same blanket, joining her under its cover. It carried its own warmth—not from the blanket itself, but from the space between you.
Waking up with your arm as her pillow was close. But it's an entirely different kind of close when you're spooning her.
You feel her—every part of her pressed against you. Feel every breath she takes.
You move your other arm to wrap around her—meant to be instant, but her breath catches, and so does your arm, suspended just before it settles.
Then her breath slows, deepens, like she's resolved herself to something. You take the hint and pull her closer, the way you'd wanted to from the start. The space between you disappears as you fall into her rhythm, inhaling and releasing in time with her.
You stay like that for a second—it would've been longer if you'd let yourself drift back to sleep. But it's morning, and your fingers have other ideas. Too restless to stay idle.
They start tracing mindless shapes over her—blindly poking her nose, feeling the fuzz of her eyebrows, going a step further to press against her lips, feeling her exhale warm against your skin with every breath.
She doesn't complain. Doesn't even move. But you can feel—know—she's anticipating more. She's awake. You're sure of it, not after that head shake, and certainly not now that your fingers have gotten touchy.
Especially when you feel it by instinct—pull back just in time. A bite, or an attempt at one, too close to your fingers for comfort.
You give ground, just for that hand. A chuckle, your forehead pressing playfully to hers—though it might've been a distraction, since your other hand has already joined in.
It's its own kind of pesky, tracing her taut stomach, following every breath, playful and mindless all at once.
Until a spark of thought gives it a goal. An enticing one.
You pause, and the shift in the air is immediate. No longer innocent play. She notices.
"Chaeyoung," you say, a little shaky now, gone is the smirk from before.
She nods.
A hum of approval follows, making it clear—just for you.
Your hand, which had been tracing her stomach, moves lower. Past her pajamas. Past her underwear.
It's met with new warmth. New heat.
Her reaction comes first—her hand reaching to hold your arm, the one wrapped around her. Not to stop you. To feel you. What stops instead is her breath, just for a beat, before it shifts—from the deep, relaxed rhythm of before to something new. A breath of anticipation.
And you don't let her wait.
Already at her most intimate space, your hands pushed to be in between her legs. A touch, then a slip. A finger sliding through her folds, as it follows just along her entrance, her clit deliberately brushed against. Her whimper confirms what you already were feeling.
An exhale of hers felt so heated to your skin.
You don't let her wait, but it was patience you decided to toy with immediately after.
Slow—grudgingly slow—you move against her. As simple as it can be, as light as her breaths had been. There's no rush. It's savor that sets the pace.
Her cunt pressed by the stroke of your fingers, she tries to hold it in, but you can hear the tiny whimpers she fails to suppress. Your arm, the one her head rests on, feels her breath turn to heat. Her hand clings to your fingers—a frail attempt at control she doesn't really have.
You could point out how wet she is. But you both already know it. You don't need to be vulgar with words the way you were last night—it's the silence that does that work now, carrying its own kind of filth, making sure it's only her sound filling this space.
Then, finally, she gives in. A moan—immediate, and shyly muffled by her own hand.
The second one isn't suppressed at all. She's let go of herself, already past the point of holding back.
By the third, she's asking. Not in words—but it's clear what she needs.
More.
And she acts on it. Her hips hesitate, then decide almost immediately that they're too starved to wait any longer. They roll, chasing after the fingers that had given her rest, impatient for a new pace—one faster than the slow you'd given her.
The blanket had its new rustle.
It's no longer about you giving pleasure. It's her chasing after it. And with the new movement, she presses back against something you'd almost forgotten about.
Your arousal, hard on its own now, catches every roll of her hips, pressing you both a step further into indulgence. You can only groan as she clearly takes her own pleasure from how you were rubbing behind her.
The bed that had been set for her pleasure is now shared.
Her hand lets go of your busy arm and moves back, reaching for you. You feel her touch land on your pants, making her want clear. You comply—stopping for a second, pulling away from her heat just long enough to shove your pants down, guiding her hand to what's now exposed.
Every finger of hers wraps around your cock, deliberate, exploring. She gives herself a second, a gasp, just to feel you—before she gets to work. A clumsy stroke, done for the lust more so than anything else.
You bend to her touch, leaning closer almost to nuzzle into her. The ghost of your breath now brushes her flushed ear. Closer than before, it made you more aware of her mewls as she melts into you.
The pause that had freed your other hand doesn't stay idle for long. You use the moment to pull down her pants, hasty and rough, every second feeling wasted if it isn't spent touching her.
Her lower half exposed, you take a detour—following her shape, tracing her curves, feeling her softness. And you feel her as your tip traces the arch of her back—bare, raw and throbbing against her skin.
She huffs, not from pleasure this time, but impatience. She needs you back.
So you go back—though gentle strokes are no longer enough for her, not when she keeps asking for more, not when you can feel her own want in the hand that is working your girth. You touch her again, and this time you press a finger inside.
A moan, clearer than any before this morning, carries a different tone than you'd expected.
Your finger, welcomed like it had been waited for, slick and wet as before, pulls you deeper—warm, throbbing, and instantly enveloping. Restless, yet expectant.
You move. Press and drag along her walls, gentle where she needs it, adjusting to her satisfaction. She clenched to your pace and keened with every motion you were doing into her.
She calls your name—differently than Chaeyoung ever had. Surrendered. Full of plea. Asking for you. Asking for more.
So you give her more. Another finger, faster now, enough to make her wail. It drips, her cunt, with her juices that hadn't stopped since you started. She was coiling to the tension.
She tries to match your pace with the hand working you, even as her bare back presses harder into you.
You feel her tensing. Your name again, breaking apart as she starts to lose herself. She's close. You match her.
She cries out unchaste rambling, too undisciplined for words.
And she comes—her grip tightening and stilling, moans cresting into a whisper against the hand where her head rests. The fingers that had clung to yours now hold you tight in her palm as she clings to herself, to the feeling.
She comes undone, and you feel it from the inside—tightening, spasming, holding your fingers in place until the very end, gushing warmth as her body fights through it. You follow right after, pressing your cock to her arching back, the canvass for your realease—spurts landing, sticking, dripping down her back.
The lazy morning has turned into a sweaty exchange of release. Sweat and spend soak the sheets. Warm, satisfied breaths fill the room.
A second of reprieve settles over the now-debauched bed.
After a beat of rest, and you gave her more. You reach for her again—yet she's still stubbornly wrapped in the blanket. This time you pull it away, an impulse you only just thought of. What surprises you is the resistance she gives to it—resistance that had been entirely absent when you touched her.
You've done a lot this morning. To the bed. To her. And yet, as if deliberately, you still haven't seen her face.
"Chaeyoung, we need to get up," you say, though it carries a tint of confusion, quietly asking for an answer.
She doesn't give you one.
"Chaeyoung?" Her name again, this time a question.
"You can wash up first." A clear voice, finally—too clear to be Chaeyoung's, whose voice even in its soft morning had always try to allure. What you heard was not that.
Something snaps in you. You move like a string pulled taut, one single thought cutting through everything that just happened.
This is not Chaeyoung.
"Who—" The thought leaks out before you can stop it. It needed to get out.
You pull again, and this time she lets it go—no longer hidden by a mere blanket.
It isn't the dark hair that spills like Chaeyoung's; hers ends too early, cropped short. Cotton pajamas instead of the lace you'd seen the night before. It isn't the confident posture you'd been looking for—instead, something timid, quiet, that greets you.
It really is not Chaeyoung.
"Seoyeon?"
Her eyes meet yours, only for a second, before she pulls away. Too flushed to hold your gaze.
"Wha…"
It's absurd, really—too much to even shape into a single question. Why she's here. Why she said nothing. Why she let it happen. And why, after all that, she's acting like this now.
This—the way she avoids your eyes, how withdrawn she looks, yet still frozen in place. How voiceless she is.
"Why?"
Too many questions, but that's the only one you manage.
"I'm sorry."
It's the way she stammers it, the way apologizing is her first instinct, that twists your gut. Something about this is wrong—but why does it feel like she's the one bracing to take the blame?
"No, Seoyeon, I didn't mean—not like that…"
You try to explain, only to stumble over the reasoning, just as lost as she seems.
"Why are you here?" You force yourself to ground the question, to get clarity before anything else. "Chaeyoung was here last night, so I assumed—I called you Chaeyoung. Why didn't you say anything?"
A question meant to explain the situation only ends up raising a new one.
"It wasn't last night."
Not the answer you expected. An answer that only opens another question.
"What?"
"You were asleep for more than a day." She faces you now, trying to sound calm. "Chaeyoung left yesterday. She told me to look after you."
"That still doesn't explain why you were in my arms."
"I was checking on you." At least now she's meeting your eyes, though you notice her fingers fidgeting with the blanket. "You had a nightmare—a bad one," she corrects herself. "You were having trouble breathing. You were about to lose yourself."
She pauses. Takes a breath. Finally gives you the reason.
"I helped you calm down. Helped you sleep. I had to use my… skill…" She hesitates, like she half-expects you not to believe her.
You stare at her. Your breathing has settled by now, most of the questions answered, your thoughts a little clearer. And in their place, a different thought surfaces—her. Still flushed from before, her pajamas damp with sweat, exposed now that the blanket is gone. Her hair a mess, a few strands still pressed near her mouth—the same mouth that had moaned and called your name. You start to wonder, if you could still taste her by your fingers, wonder on how her back looked like after—
"I fingered you and cummed on you." Crass, blunt—an accident, something you never meant to say out loud.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have deceived you."
Deceived.
That word stings. She apologizes like she's the one to blame.
"Stop—what are you saying, why are you—Seoyeon, it's not about that. God, I was into it, okay? I initiated it, I enjoyed it. But that's not the point. It's about you. You should've said something. I would've stopped immediately if you'd just told me—"
"I know." Her voice is so small you almost miss it—if not for what it implies, which is loud enough to fill the whole room.
It stuns you. Gets you thinking, for a second, about pulling the blanket back over both of you and picking up where you left off.
But.
You've already done enough for one morning.
"I just don't know anymore," you mutter, your eyes drifting elsewhere, looking for something to land on. "My head's a mess. I shouldn't be doing this right now—not when I'm supposed to be dealing with other things."
You could've sworn you heard a small protest, but your mind's already made up.
A shaky exhale. "Can I just… have the room to myself? I need to think." A request, not a demand.
Seoyeon holds back whatever she was going to say. She understands enough, and even that much makes you grateful. She gathers herself, steps off the bed, worry still written on her face—but she respects your need for space. She walks out as quietly as she can, opens the door, and closes it behind her.
You've done nothing, gone nowhere, for too long—too compliant, too willing to just follow along ever since you met the girls. To flow with their whims.
You need to move. Just as before. Without them.
By yourself.
a/n:
Ok, just a yap. This took way too long idk how long? More than a year??? That was feb last year. Ah.
For that amount of time to only come up with 3k? Haha im sorry. This draft in particular had gone to many reworked (i talked about it way too much, tbh). I had to keep changing scopes, cause i keep adding stuff to the plot points, making a really complicated and twisted outline, when im not that good od a writer to pull it all together.
3k. Well it is short, but its not like that is a compromise, i just realised that there was no reason for me to write that long (plan a 20k then ran out of steam at 10k?). I think rather than long chapters or just fics and general maybe ill start leaning to shorter fics, with fp really done well chapter feature i can comfortably section my fics without feeling it as a compromise. Plus a 3k is a wordcount that i could write up even with the busiest week.
And for this series yap, same as before, i already have an outline, i just need to write them out, only this time it will be 3k* wordcount at a time.
A bright ray of sun peeking through the gaps of the window blinds woke you up. That little light landed exactly at your right eye; talk about luck. However, it’s not actually the light that you first noticed; it’s the cold that Jieun was worrying about last night.
“Ughh… maybe she’s right. I should’ve slept in the bed.” You remembered it clearly: her words comparing the heater in the room and the living area.
But there's another thing you unintentionally remembered: her nipples—
“...”
“No! Why is it the first thing that came to my mind!? What the hell is wrong with me?” You slap your own face, a perfect punishment for your lewd thoughts, and also to wake yourself a hundred percent.
“Aw…” It might be too much. “Slapping yourself is better than a cup of coffee.” You’re wide awake now.
You sit up straight, stretching out the stiffness caused by an unnatural sleeping position. The couch is great, but the bed in her room is much nicer.
Speaking of her, the door's still closed as your eyes landed on it. She might still be sleeping, as there is no woman currently who has asked you to marry her.
“Should I ask for a coffee?” You stood up, gave your body another stretch of life. “Yeah, I should.” You decided.
The room service is as fast as usual; the coffee arrived in less than five minutes, and she was yet to wake up. You got two black coffees, hoping it would energize the day with luck. You asked for a breakfast meal as well; you ordered everything since, based on how Jieun acts lately, you had no idea what she wanted anymore.
“Should I wake her up?” You kept going back and forth from the dining table to the bedroom door.
“Yeah, right, it’s almost time.” You finally made up your mind and decided to wake her up. But the moment you reached for her door, it swung open.
It was the same as the past, but the feelings have changed. She’s always a flower in your eyes, but at that very moment, she’s blooming as if it’s her season. Since when did the morning sun ever come so close to you that it brightens your day in an instant?
“Hmm, you really like it, do you?” She lightly stretched, her arms extending, hands holding your shoulder as a post, and she arched her back. It’s dangerous; a wild snake just constricts you, enough to tighten your breath, but your heart stops as well.
“Hmm? What?” Is it the coffee? The sun? Or her? That you like.
“My bare face.”
Did she read you? Or does your expression just say it all for you like an open book?
“Ehem, coffee.” No answer for that, straight-up admission just what she wanted you to. You pointed the coffee at the table, still hot, the same temperature as your burning face.
“Thanks.” She sat and took a sip.
You took the chair across from her, took your own coffee, and had a sip, mirroring her actions. She took a piece of macaron, a pink one; you watched her lips carefully as she took a polite bite of it.
“Enough with staring and admiration; I know I’m pretty.” Her confidence is a statement; she knows what’s running through you.
“I-I’m not.” You took a sip; no, you drank your coffee in one shot. The black coffee was actually bitter; you almost regretted your choice, but the bitterness was just as you needed to fully regain your energy to think straight.
“I’m wearing it.”
“KGHHH— W-What’s with the reminder all of a sudden!?” As you thought you could think straight, she threw more water to corrupt your system.
“I feel like I should let you know.” She kept staying at her business, eating.
“D-did it dry over time?” You did as well, not lifting an inch of your head. If your eyes met, it’s just inviting more trouble.
“Yeah.” She confirmed. “Wanna see it?” The follow-up is something you expect, but still unexpected.
“JIEUN!”
“Eat.” She picked up a biscuit with her fork and put it on your plate. You took it right away, feeling the added flavor of her teasing in a mix of the biscuit’s filling.
That day, the meeting went smoothly as no one dared to speak except her, though she couldn’t hide her anger. She kept pressing them to the edge of admitting how incompetent they are.
“WHAT IS SO IMPORTANT OTHER THAN THE COMPANY’S MEETING!?”
“Tell me! Is this why we’re at the pit in the Japanese market!?”
“Do you even know how much time you waste!?”
This scenario’s the same when she demanded that she didn’t need anything other than you.
“Should I prepare my wrist?” You muttered as she sat back in her chair, her eyes speaking anger that levels above usual.
“This– take care of this.” She points at the declining sales, reports, and revenues of her company.
“YES, MA’AM!” It’s more like a military response; the unison is incredibly amusing.
“Dismissed.” She’s too mad to look at them.
They looked confused, so you gestured to them that they could leave now. The relief in their faces is noticeable. You can’t hate them that much since they didn’t pocket the company's money, but still, they’re lacking dedication and work ethic.
“Arigato Gozaimasu!” The mix of Korean and Japanese executives showed deep respect for her by bowing lower than most polite people do. At the very least, they have respect for her.
“...”
“...”
“...”
“You don’t want coffee, do you?” You waited for a few minutes, making sure that each one of them had already left and that the two of you were alone before asking her.
“Hmm.” Her humming of agreement, her eyes closed.
“You don’t want water or chocolate, am I right?” It’s really similar to that one day, and you knew what she wanted.
“Hmm.” She answers the same; she doesn't want any of it.
She opened her eyes and looked in your direction. She tilted her head slightly, and her lips curled into a little smile.
You reached your hand out; it’s what she wants.
She took it and intertwined her fingers with yours; her little smile turned into a contented one.
“Just recharge for a while, we need to go to the airport at 1:00 pm.” You remind her before gripping her hand back.
“Yes, I know.” She tightened it more than you do.
Since when did this kind of thing become normal? And why does it matter? As long as both of you are fine with it.
Her recharge session lasted half an hour. She’s incredibly quiet the moment it ended up until now. She didn’t actually recharge with you, and the fatigue finally started to settle in. You took care of her as always, assisting her with anything she needed. Her passport, notes, and the impending schedules she needed to attend once you’re back in Korea.
You’re sitting side by side. You’re reading a book while she sleeps beside you. Her silk coat reminds you of something… her camisole—
“No, what the hell is wrong with me!?” You flipped a page on the book you were reading that you actually didn’t understand for some reason.
You kept flipping and flipping, reading empty words that seemed not to cling to your mind.
“I need to ask for some cleansing.” You sighed, seeking peace.
For the in-plane meal, you got a steak; every bite reminds you of the steak she treats you to; it is much better. Everything that revolves around you seems to have one thing in common: her.
It’s the longest three-hour flight of your life; you’ve been fighting demons for not swaying yourself to think of what happened last night.
*****
“I’ll leave it here, Ms Lee.” You set down the coffee, she asked, and took slow steps out.
She usually calls you out and leaves a word every time you come near her, but there’s none. Her office’s quiet, enough for the humidifier sound to take over.
“Did I do something wrong?” You muttered, asking yourself as you walked out.
As soon as you got out of her office, your nose sensed something familiar, something that spoke of another trouble.
Sniff. Sniff.
You heard heels clicking through the marble floors, echoing through the entire office. It’s her; your senses work properly this time as you smile on your way back to your workplace.
“Ms Baek.” Sitting on your chair, your words stopped the footsteps, and a few seconds later, she popped out of the wall.
“You knew it was me?” Her immediate question, she seemed brighter than usual.
“It’s only you who used perfume for the shower.” Good thing that she didn’t change her perfume over time, it’s easy to spot on an upcoming walking land mine.
“I don’t, you know that.” She walks over to your desk, then proceeds to poke your cheeks.
“Stop.” You puffed your cheeks, and her last poke didn’t punch through.
“Wait, did you miss me?” Out of nowhere, she raised a question that caught you off guard. She pinched your cheeks after it.
“What the hell? Why did you think of that?” Playfully slapping her hand off your cheeks.
“It’s just amusing that you knew me because of my scent.” She pointed out, sniffing her own collar. “Well, that’s what I also feel.” She added.
“W-what?” Is it about the scent or the missing thing?
“Your perfume, it suits you well, like I said the other day.” Her words clarified it. It’s the perfume Jieun wants. Girls must have preferred the same perfume.
“Oh, okay…”
“Is Ms Lee in?” She went back to her agenda, and she was there at that time.
“Yes.” You respond, gesturing that she can enter anytime she wants.
“No, I’m already outside of my office as you can see… I’m here.” That voice.
“MS LEE!”
“Oh my, Ms Lee.”
You jumped off your chair in surprise. Jiheon also flinched, but compared to you, she’s more composed.
You did not notice her. Since when did she come out of her office? No, the more important question is, how long has she already been standing there?
“What is it? Ms Baek.” Jieun’s face is blank; you can’t read her as you seek answers to your questions.
“The Vice President seeks your signature of approval for the upcoming National Museum endorsement.” Jiheon extended a folder to her.
“Leave it at my secretary’s desk.” She did not accept it and crossed her arms instead.
“I’ll take it—” A few more inches before your hand lands over her folder.
“I said leave it at your desk and not to take it,” Jieun speaks lightly, but her aura speaks the opposite.
“Ah… yes.” You let Jiheon place it on the top of your desk like Jieun told her.
“You should pay attention.” Jiheon playfully nudged your arm before she excused herself.
“...”
“...”
“...”
“Ms Lee? Is there something wrong?” Finally, you asked her with enough courage since she’s been weird the whole morning.
“I’m fine… why?” She answered, her brows crunched.
“You’re unusually quiet.” She’s not fine, she’s lying.
“So, you noticed.” She sighed, and finally her face rested in ease. “My dad wants to have a meeting tomorrow, and I need you to come with me.” That’s the reason why she was frowning the whole morning; it has something to do with her parents.
And she needs you.
“Uhh, I can’t.” Your refusal is so loud that she slowly looked at you with her eyes wide open.
“What? Why can't you go with me?” Her reaction’s understandable; she seemed to have forgotten what’s with tomorrow.
“I applied for leave tomorrow.”
“...”
“...”
“Did I allow it?” She blinked multiple times, and you lost count of how many it was.
“Yes.” As you remember, she is even the one who submitted the application slip to the HR office. The way their smiles turned into horror when she suddenly appeared, holding a piece of paper. They thought it was a termination slip, but it turned out to be her secretary application. They processed it right away since she took a long time to review it.
“W-what!?” She really did forget the ruckus she made in the HR office.
“I applied two months ago, and you approved it two weeks later, then, upon realizing it, you’re the one who submitted it to the processing.” Telling her the story that she should remember in the first place.
“I-I did?” She points at herself as if you’re making up lies.
“Yes, but don’t worry, ma’am, I’ve already set up tomorrow's schedule, but… I didn’t know that you would have a family meeting tomorrow.” Her family meeting came out of nowhere, but you can easily fit it to her schedule since tomorrow’s actually not a busy day for her.
"Dad called this morning." She regained composure and cleared her throat. “It’s fine, take your leave.” She eventually accepted it.
“Thank you, Ms Lee.” She can pull it back and force you to work, but she chose to respect your decision.
She may not be that kind of person, but knowing that she’ll have a meeting with her parents tomorrow, she may actually do it.
She’s about to enter her office when she stops in her tracks.
“By the way, no gossiping during working hours or inside this building. Understood!?” She turns around and picks up the folder that Jiheon left.
“Y-yes ma’am!” You attentively listened to her words. You should tell Jiheon to keep her lurking toned down a bit.
“I should tell my brother to lock Ms Baek’s ankle to her desk.” She muttered, though it’s so faint that you couldn’t analyze what she just said.
“Ms Lee?”
“N-nothing.” She waved her hand as she entered her office.
Her office door closed with a soft click.
She did not ask you to work overtime later on that day. She did not ask to drive for her; she stayed late that day, keeping herself busy on her laptop.
“Hey, let’s go.” Jiheon fetched you up on your station. She’s still energetic after a long day of work.
“Yes–” Your response came to a pause.
Somehow, you felt something sharp pointed at your neck.
As you looked back at her office, she had her eyes on both of you.
Remember, no gossiping.
Upon arriving at your apartment that night, you called your sisters to know what’s happening lately. Though you ended the call early as usual, expecting Jieun to call you. But there’s no late-night call.
The next day, it’s your day off. The day you filed two months ago, hoping you could at least enjoy a day of rest. But it turns out to be a day of worrying, hoping she’s doing fine at work, and that she’ll do fine later when meeting his parents.
“Why would I worry? It’s not like she can’t handle it by herself.” You kept talking to yourself, convincing yourself that she’ll do fine even without you.
“It’s my day off. I should be enjoying things… should I just play?” You turn on the gaming console your ex-girlfriend bought for you.
Yes, you had an ex-girlfriend, and you don’t feel any conscience playing with it since your breakup was mutual.
“...”
“Boring.” You muttered.
You don’t feel any thrill playing it; it’s more exciting in the office since she’ll keep surprising you with something—
“Why can’t I keep her out of my mind!?” You pulled your hair; it’s not healthy thinking about your boss even on your day off.
Ting! Ting!
“Ms Lee! Oh– It’s Jiheon. What does this girl want?” It’s from the girl who will bug you even on your day off.
You read her messages.
Jiheonini | Me
Hey! You’re off work!?
You should have told me!
Why would I?
You’ll just drag me off somewhere.
Still!
Anyways, the whole office is in deep terror right now.
Ms Lee just walked around!
Then?
That’s it.
She’s lurking!
If you’re here, she wouldn’t do it.
Why?
I don’t know.
Seems like you two had a magnet on.
Like we used to!
Look.
Jiheonini sent a photo.
“...”
You didn’t respond after that.
“She looked… bored.” Jieun’s eyes were the same as yours.
“This Jiheon should not take a picture of somebody else without any permission.” You replied with a cursing emoji to her, which she cursed back.
It's a day off at night, and all you ever do is stare at the ceiling all day.
“She might still be at their manor house…” You stared at your dark phone screen. “It must’ve been rough for her.” You added, still no calls from her.
“...”
Ting! Ting!
Your phone lit up; it wasn’t these silly notifications from your social media applications, not just any spam messages, and not your sister asking when you would come home. It was a message from her.
Come outside.
I’m downstairs.
“Outside?” You hurriedly ran to the nearest window you had, stumbling on the way.
You took a quick peek, and there she was. She was still wearing the day clothes she wore at work, arms crossed in the middle of the cold night. She had her back resting on her car while she looked down as she kicked a pebble repeatedly.
“She came all the way here…” Upon realization, you ran out of your unit. Carefully descend the stairs as the elevators take seconds to come up. Your patience that night was unusually thin.
“Pant. pant. Ms Lee.”
You descend from your unit in less than a minute. She must have been way too bored, so you thought having your presence as soon as possible would put her at ease.
“Why did you run? You don’t have to.” Her lips curled, and that’s officially the first smile from her ever since morning.
“I just… felt bad, so I ran instantly.” Explaining while catching your breath, thank goodness you never skipped your cardio jog every Saturday evening, except that night out when you brought Jiheon home.
“Hmm? Felt bad for what?” She reached out for a handkerchief; you’re sweating as she speaks.
“I… left you alone… at your parents' house.” You’re hesitant about whether you’ll take it or not.
“Is that so?” She left her left hand hanging, holding her plain mint green handkerchief with her initials embroidered on it.
“...”
“Take it.” She said as you left her hanging, still contemplating whether you’ll take it or not.
“T-thank you…” In the end, you took it and carefully wiped your sweat with it. You don’t dare to give it back right away; you should wash it first, pour gallons of fabric conditioner, and let it dry in a humidified room.
Her scent lingers on the fabric as if she and her handkerchief are one. It smelled so good.
“I’ll pass for today; I’ll just ask you tomorrow for it.” Her words snapped you and brought you back to reality, and what is she talking about?
“The marriage?” Your mouth’s faster than your brain as those words slipped out before you even processed them.
“Yes.” You got it right; she’s planning to propose again, but considering how tiring the day was, she might choose to take it back. “The meeting’s actually good news; my parents saw the potential in me,” she added right away.
It’s not usual for her to claim that meeting her parents is a good thing.
“I-If that is so… is marriage still necessary?” She just said that she’ll propose to you tomorrow, and yet you ask her. Maybe there’s a chance that everything will be back for good now.
“Yes, and they actually told me to get married as soon as possible.” Her parents wanted to have her married right away; they’re speeding things up.
“...”
“That’s it, go take a rest. We have to work tomorrow.” She opened her car door.
“That’s it?” Her actions are so… unpredictable.
“Hmm. Why?” And why does it look like you’re the one who’s being unpredictable here?
“You came all the way here just to—”
“Just to see you.”
You knew that it was midnight, the sky was dark, and the streets were now in deep sleep. However, why is everything surrounding her in contrast to it? She is glowing; everything about her is bright, and the silence is filled with your heart’s drumming beat.
“Did I make your heart flutter?” She let out a playful grin.
She got you again.
“I—”
“Good night.”
“Good night, Jieun.” Openly admitting defeat.
She buckled in and drove away. She let out a single honk, her way of saying goodbye.
She didn’t lie; what she said is true.
She made your heart flutter.
*****
“You should stop this habit.” What you were pointing out is what Jiheon usually does. She’s in front of your desk again, elbows resting on your transaction top, hands on her chin.
“This? What? What did I do?” She genuinely had no idea what you were trying to say, even though she kept chatting with you whenever she needed to see your boss.
“This. Gossiping is prohibited.” You had to explain to her, exactly.
“Is it bad?” She leaned in, her words put at the lowest volume she could.
“Do you really have to ask that?” You responded, matching her tone and a little bit sarcastically.
“You know what?” Whatever this girl asks is purely unserious.
“What?”
“Go work. Is Ms Lee in?” Now she dared to tell you to go back to work as if she were not the one who started the small talk.
“Yeah. Go before she catches us breaking the law.” You pushed her away with a finger on her forehead. It’s the area you can always push since it’s made up of stone.
It’s busy as usual; the morning is filled with a mountain of documents that piled up during your day off. They kept coming, and you had to process it properly or else a minimal mistake could cause a company loss. No signs of your boss as she was in a deep state of working inside her office.
“Uooghh!” At the pantry, you let out a sigh and stretched out.
“Is it just mine, or every day after my day off is twice the hell?” You took a coffee pod and put it inside a coffee machine, and your mug is already at the catch.
“They always said that my office is hell.”
“Yes.”
“...”
“MS LEE!” Lately, your senses have failed you most of the time.
“Don’t shout, they’ll think you saw a devil— am I?” She went beside you, brought her own mug, the silver and gold gilded mug shining with timeless polished place besides your plain stainless one you bought from a sale.
“No, of course not.” She’s not a devil; she’s more terrifying than that, especially in other workers’ eyes.
“You should have asked me for a coffee; you don’t have to go all the way here to have some.” You added as you watched her choosing what coffee she should have, flipping every pod with different flavors.
“I need to go… because you’re here.” She already knows the flavor she likes, it’s you.
Badump, Badump.
“You’re red, is it really hot?” She took a tiny step towards you, and she leaned closer until her face was inches from you. It’s not the coffee machine that causes steam in the air; it’s you.
“Uhh…”
You can feel every breath she took, her scent is the same as the handkerchief she gave you last night, and she had the same mischievous smile she wore every time she played with you.
“So, what do you like to eat?” She did not move back, and your body’s too stiff to move as well.
“Just c-coffee.” That’s the reason why you went into the pantry, but you stutter as if you’re craving for something else.
“Are you sure? You don’t want any hot things to match this hellish place?” Her fingers ran to your sleeves and ended up fixing your collar.
“W-what do you mean?” You looked sideways, but your eyes still locked with hers.
“Like hot ramyeon… hot popcorn…” She purred, but the office pantry didn't have Ramyeon and popcorn. “Or hot legs?” Her leg brushed against yours.
The touch is electric.
“MS LEE—” You almost fell as you stumbled back.
“I just told you not to shout.” Her scolding is way calmer than the last time you raised your voice at her.
She knew what she was doing.
“Enjoy your coffee.” She turns her back on you and swings her hips, humming as she leaves.
“...”
“What the hell was that?” Your coffee remains hot; is it because of the fiery tension between you? “I should stop mentioning hell.” Must be it.
“Is the AC broken? Why am I sweating?”
But for some reason, it’s really hot.
That afternoon, you brought a pile of processed documents to her desk. She wasn’t there at that moment since she had a personal meeting with the Vice President, her brother. Thankfully, her brother isn’t hostile towards her since he clearly stated that he isn’t interested in power.
But Jieun still had her guard on him, though you can say to all of her relatives.
As you put the documents on her desk, you saw something you shouldn’t have seen.
“Tips on how to make a man fall in love…” You read the main title that hovered at the top.
“T-this is the thing she kept reading?” You remember that she kept mumbling about checklists or something whenever she did something new. This might be the answer to all of that.
“What’s this? If a man still insists… seduce–” The current view on the site highlighted the most evil plan you ever read in your entire life.
The door suddenly opened. You hurriedly moved back, moving like thunder in a flash. Acting as if you saw nothing, you just put the documents on her table.
“Oh? You missed me already?” Her initial words are enough to tell you that she’s in a good mood after meeting her brother.
“Isn’t the first thing you should ask, why am I here?” You retaliate, teasing her back. Hand clasp together, waiting patiently for her orders.
“Okay, so why are you here?” She walks in front of you.
“I put some documents that need your signature. I prefer you take a good look at it again. I might have missed something.” You turned to the piled-up documents, tapping them lightly.
“I’m taking a good look at it.” She responded.
However, she’s not referring to the papers. As you turn back to her, she’s staring at you intently.
“N-n-not me. The papers.” You tapped the top again, heavier this time around.
“Oh? A rare mistake.” She clicked her tongue. She’s definitely playing.
“...”
“...”
“Am I a mistake?” You muttered, curious if she really meant it.
“No, but you are rare.” She poked your heart, and it started pumping like crazy as if she pressed a button to shift your heart engine.
Badump, Badump.
“You’re red, again.” The same at the pantry earlier, the AC must be broken since you started feeling hot all of a sudden.
“I-I’m not.” You shook your head, took a step back. The door to her office seemed so far away; you can’t go out easily, you may submit if it goes on.
“If you say so.” She stopped.
A cat playing with her toy, that’s what she is.
“Right, don’t go home early. We’ll have to work overtime. I just talked with my brother. The delegates from Hong Kong wanted to see the Fashion Museum, which is supposed to launch next month. The report says that the contractor only reported 60% completion.” She circled her desk and took a seat.
Just like that, she shifts from a teaser to a company President.
“60%? That’s barely half?” There must be something going on with the current project.
“Yes, so I like you—”
“Ms Lee, this is an important matter.” You even let out a sigh.
“What are you talking about? What I’m saying is I'd like you to take a look at it. Examine the records, the budget, and the reports that they submitted, and if you find something suspicious, compile it and submit it to the legal team instantly. We can’t waste time.” She continued.
Right, you were talking about work and not some personal things.
“...”
“Ah… yes, I–” In less than a minute, you felt hot, flustered, and embarrassed.
“You know—” Whatever she’ll say, you have to go out.
Now.
“Bye, I’ll look for it. The Fashion Museum.” You bowed decisively, turned around, and got out of her office.
Thud.
“That’s… so embarrassing.” Face-palming is not enough to hide your flustered face.
You dug into the Fashion Museum reports. Examining every detail they submitted, the logbooks, and construction progress reports, the contractor provided. Site inspections showed only sixty percent completion, yet the contractor had already submitted—and been paid for—the seventy-five percent progress billing.
You look for the names involved, make a list, and send it directly to the legal department. They’ll do the necessary investigation needed and look for legal action.
“How is it?” It’s Jieun. She approached your station.
It’s dark outside, but the office lights give more than enough illumination to keep you working.
“I’ve sent it instantly to the legal department. I’ve told them that they can’t go home until no one’s been identified as the instigator. The reports are misaligned with the budget provided.” You explained that you had already made a move, handing over a summarized report that you’ve gathered.
“So, what do you think we’ll have to do?” She’s flipping over pages.
“The Fashion Museum is projected to generate income. Based on our projections, the museum should recover its construction cost within three months. Even after operating expenses, we'd still generate a healthy return. If that’s for three months, we’re just about minimally bigger than what we’ve released.” You explained rather than answering her.
“So, the profit’s more likely less than 50%. But, that did not answer my question.” She took it, and she wanted answers as expected.
“My answer is, considering the assumed profit. We can take a risk, we'll terminate the existing contract and negotiate with a contractor capable of finishing the remaining work.” It was based on your instinct; the risk is too high, but the priority is finishing the project instead of thinking about profit.
“Based on your words, you’re sure that the current contractor had flaws.” She noticed, pointing at one of the suspicious money figures in your report.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Good.” She closed the report and placed it back on your desk. “I’ll take the three months of charity work, no income, no profit, as long as it will fix the problem and the Museum will be done in a month.” She added.
The priority wasn't immediate profit anymore. It was preventing further losses and completing a project that would eventually pay for itself. So your solution fixed the construction backlog, and even though the profit’s 50% to none, it’s better than having a negative outcome.
“I’m pretty sure it will make it through.” You’re more confident as she had no objection to your plan.
“...”
“...”
“You’re learning.” She used to spill anger at times like this, but here she was, beaming a satisfied smile for you.
“Thanks, Ms Lee.”
“That’s what I expect from my future husband.” The shift is insane; she’s teasing again.
“Huh?”
“We’ll have to work together when the time comes.” She circled all the way to your side, closing the distance between you.
“H-h-huh!? Wait! You said it was just a one-year contract?” As you remember it correctly, she clearly pointed out that it will only last a year until the full acquisition is complete.
“I did revisions…” She kept closing in, until you can clearly see the fine stitches of her pencil skirt, ironed and well-pleated. “Since I’m too invested.” She added, sitting at your table.
As you are still seated, you can feel her warmth and be aware of how close she was. Her skirt rode up, showing her skin bit by bit. But she didn’t stop there; she slid in a bit deeper until she finally nestled in.
It wasn't the winter season, yet, there was a snowy thing right in front of you. Her skin.
Badump, Badump.
“You’re–” She played with your hair, brushing it like a doll.
“Yes, I’m red…” That will be the third time of the day she pointed out how red you were.
Her actions, that’s clearly the tip you saw on her desktop.
Seduce.
“Do you want me to drive for you? I guess not since you’re still energetic.” You stood up, which caused her to startle. “I’ll go home now.” You picked your bag up and slid smoothly, passing her and attempting to walk away nonchalantly.
“Good night.” Her words are magic, it makes you stop.
“Good night, Ms… Jieun.” You respond without turning back as you continue to walk home.
It’s not because you’re mad at her.
Your face is way too red. She might call an ambulance.
*****
The next day isn’t different from what happened yesterday. Piles of documents rested above your table, plus the legal documents that had been reviewed and submitted by the legal department for your boss’s approval.
You've got to finish all of it for the day, since you also have another big day coming tomorrow.
“...”
“W-w-what!? You're going to have to leave tomorrow!? Again!?” She slammed your leave application into her desk.
That’s the reaction you were expecting since it hasn’t been a week since your last leave.
“I applied for it a day after my first leave got approved two months ago.” You pointed at the bottom part of the application, her signature specifically.
“No.” She pushed it away, causing the paper to slip on the edge and start floating.
“Y-yes?” You caught it, it’s the paper of your freedom.
“I said no, and why did you apply for a leave after a leave!? Are you sick of me!?” She crossed her arms, leaned back in her chair, and crunched her nose in disapproval.
“N-no! Of course not.” You denied, putting back the paper at her desk as she concluded something again. You actually forgot why you applied for it the moment your first leave got approved.
“Throw it away.” She pushed it again.
“No,” but you hold it, stopping her from dropping the paper again.
“You dared to say no? I’m the boss, follow the rules!” She slammed the paper multiple times; the strength increases over time. Her earrings swayed in tempo with her slams; it actually distracted you.
“Then I’ll have my leave, the rules said you allowed it since you had your sign over it.” You slammed the table as well, but lighter, almost didn’t make a sound.
“Tch. Fine!” She admits defeat, kicking an imaginary stone off the floor. “Only if you’re done with your work, remember the Fashion Museum? Finish it.” She sets up a requirement.
“It’s done. We’ve started the bidding for the remaining works, and in between these papers, there’s actually a list of qualified contractors that could take over for the construction. The legal team had pursued legal actions against the executives involved. The news agencies have also been taken care of, so no news will be released until the opening.”
That’s the proudest thing you've ever done in a while; you actually manage to handle it within a day.
“...”
“Ms Lee?” You took a good look at her, but she’s just blankly staring at you.
“Go.” She looked down, taking your leave application and putting it under her table.
“Thank you.” You politely bowed; thankfully, she didn’t insist that you stay since you knew she still had the power to cancel your application.
“Uhh, Ms Lee.” You forgot something, but it’s something irrelevant.
“What?” She still had her brows clamped, furious at her defeat.
“I like your earrings today, it suits you well.”
“...”
She didn’t respond; the only expression she showed you was her softening face. Though you can still feel her eyes behind you, following every step you take until you get out of her office.
She didn’t attempt to negotiate about your application leave; she simply worked as you often took a peek at her office glass walls. You tidied up the remaining documents that she may need tomorrow, fixed her schedule, and prepared the necessary slips she needs to sign.
“Is Ms Lee inside?”
Is it Jiheon? No, the way she speaks may be similar, but she smells differently, more like a strawberry than a rose.
“Huh? What brings you here, Ms Lee Saerom?” You recognized her as soon as you saw her refined beauty.
Lee Saerom, she is Ms Lee’s personal designer. SLee Saerom—the celebrity stylist who had dressed actresses, idols, and socialites alike. Her talent is so innate that she got scholarships from design schools at the age of six. She is a big name as well, you rarely meet her as most of the time Jieun and her met is set to a private pod.
“Hello? Is Ms Lee inside?” She smiled, waving her hand to catch your attention.
“H-huh? Y-yes! But, I didn’t know that you had an appointment with her.” You’ve been staring at it too long. She’s a beauty.
“Ms Lee wanted to meet as soon as possible, so I rushed all the way here since it happened. I'm visiting my old friend at the nearby coffee shop.” She kept smiling.
“I see, does your friend work nearby as well?”
“Yes, actually, she works here. Maybe you know her.” Even when answering, she kept her friendly smile on.
“Really? What’s her name?” A friend of Lee Saerom works in the same building where you are working?
“Baek Jiheon,” Saerom said her name.
“W-w-what!?” The Baek Jiheon who always causes trouble? The smiley-eyed goblin? The gossiping machine Baek Jiheon?
“Oh, you startle me.” Even when surprised, Saerom smiled.
“A-a-ah, yes! Sorry. I know her— wait, coffee shop?” That’s definitely the Jiheon you knew, still slacking off during working hours.
“Yes… by the way, I’ll go in, Ms Lee must’ve been waiting for too long.” She showed you a box full of earrings.
“Wait, is that…”
“Yes, all our earrings samples, she wants to take a look at it.” So, that’s the reason why she was summoned by Jieun.
“I see. You can go in, she’s inside.” You agreed, she must’ve been waiting for too long, you knew how thin her patience was.
“Thanks.” Even thanking you, Saerom smiled.
Anyway, you’ve been smiling the whole time as well. No wonder celebrities kept requesting her. Even a brief conversation with her somehow lifted people's mood..
“Ms Lee’s fast… but wait a minute! Why Jiheon’s at a coffee shop in the middle of a working day!?” You picked up your intercom and dialed up the HR office.
“Hello? Did Ms Baek go home early?” The HR office answered faster than usual and asked them out of curiosity.
“No, I’m still here— wait, who is this!?” That voice…
“MS BAEK!?” You clumsily slammed the phone back, but it didn’t go back in.
“Yes—”
Clack.
After two more tries, you finally put the telephone down.
“W-why is she everywhere?” You sighed. If she knew about it, she'd throw a fit.
*****
The next day went by too fast. The morning greeted you like a normal day, but this time, you took your most awaited eight hour sleep, and you shouldn’t worry about her since she didn’t have a parent meeting.
“Ooohh! Sunshine!” You sat up straight, smiling after years of groaning in the morning.
However, that was the only happy thing that happened to you that day.
The water’s been off for ten hours because they have to work on a water pipe nearby that includes yours, forcing you to bathe with mineral water. Due to the machinery near your apartment, you couldn’t read in peace or play games either.
“WHEN WILL I HAVE A PEACEFUL DAY OFF!?”
You shouted from the top of your lungs, hoping a powerful being was listening. But you instantly brushed it off, the Gods probably won’t give a damn.
They wouldn’t hear you since you couldn't even hear yourself either.
The machinery sounds too strong; it overlaps you.
That night, you finally lose your mind, but thankfully, the water’s back and the construction nearby is done.
“This electric kettle works like magic, and these cup noodles are miraculous. Thank you, Momofuku Ando, for creating cup noodles.” You poured the steaming hot water over your lovely ramyeon.
“Finally, a moment of peacefulness.” You set it aside, set your timer on, and patiently wait for 3-minutes.
“…”
“…"
“...”
“How long is it?” You checked the timer, and it’s only been 30 seconds.
“Two minutes and thirty seconds more.” Your patience was not that long after the tiring day off that should’ve been your rest day. You're slowly becoming your boss when it comes to tolerance.
“S-shit, I just thought about her. No, no, every time I did she–” You tried to erase your thoughts about her, it’s like a bad omen, not this time as you wanted peace.
Ding! Ding!
“Who might it– no way, right?”
“I MESSED UP— I JUST THOUGHT ABOUT HER! NO— MORE IMPORTANTLY, I’M ON MY LEAVE.” You closed my eyes, calming yourself, looking for inner peace.
You took a look at your phone, no messages left, so it must be someone.
“No, she might not be it.” You thought, smiling like crazy.
“…”
Ding! Ding!
“…”
“I-is it really her?” That impatience, it’s really Jieun.
Carefully, you looked at your intercom, and there she was, standing in front of your unit. Clothed in work attire, she had the same earring she had yesterday when you complimented her. She came all the way from work to your apartment.
“I know you’re there, open this up.” She knew whenever, whatever, wherever you are.
But something’s different.
“Yes, ma’am, I’m coming.” You sighed and silently walked on your way to your door. You took a deep breath before opening it up. It was actually the first time she’d ever take a step inside your apartment.
“Hello ma’a–” Right the moment you opened it, she slipped in. You didn’t even ask her to come in.
What you felt earlier is right, something must’ve happened. The bold and scary Jieun is back.
“Sighed.” You let out another sigh, but solely in your mind this time; you can’t do that in front of her, especially given her attitude right now.
“Ms— no. Jieun, it’s already late. Did something happen?” You asked as you closed the door. Her actions are decisive and straightforward.
She turned around to face you. She looked troubled by something.
“I came from our Manor House.” So that’s the reason.
“W-what? Really? A-are you okay? What did they tell you—”
Your words got cut when she grabbed your hand.
“Marry me— no...”
Will her persistence come to an end?
“H-huh? Ms Lee…” She keeps bugging you with that marriage thing for weeks, and will she stop now? Your mind is too bruised right now to think straight.
“No, they will just insist that I should marry that guy.” She muttered and mentioned she’s marrying another guy?
“Impregnate me.”
“...”
“...”
“...”
“HUHH!!!?”
She just threw the biggest bomb that she could throw at you.
Tooot! Tooot!
Your ramyeon timer beeped.
"Is she really gone crazy? No— Yes, she definitely is. But, there's no way she'll ask that without sincerity… she has made up her mind…" You thought.
“She’s very persistent.”
Your timer keeps beeping, synchronised with your heartbeat.
Genres: Smut, Teacher x Student AU, Teacher's Pet, Forbidden Romance, School Setting Tags/Warnings: 18+ explicit content, age gap (legal adults), teacher/student relationship, power imbalance (consensual), unprotected sex, creampie, oral (giving and receiving), fingering, multiple positions (desk, chair, against wall), pet names, dirty talk, light spanking, office sex, aftercare. Pure fantasy.
Synopsis: Dahyun has always been Teacher Lee’s favorite—smart, talented, and impossibly tempting. After she stays late to “discuss” her latest essay in his office, the tension that’s been building all semester finally snaps. What starts as extra credit turns into something much more dangerous and delicious behind locked doors.
The bell had rung twenty minutes ago, but Dahyun was still perched on the edge of your desk in the empty classroom, swinging her legs lightly. Her uniform skirt had ridden up just enough to show the smooth skin of her thighs, and that signature bright smile of hers never quite reached innocent.
“Teacher Lee,” she said sweetly, tilting her head, “I was wondering if I could get some extra help with my essay. My grade’s been slipping a little and I really want to keep my average up.”
You leaned back in your chair, trying to keep your expression professional even though your eyes kept drifting to the way her blouse hugged her chest. Dahyun had been your teacher’s pet since the beginning of the year—always volunteering answers, staying after class, leaving little notes on her assignments with cute doodles. Everyone else thought it was harmless admiration. Only you knew how the air crackled whenever you two were alone.
“Come by my office after hours,” you told her, voice low. “We’ll go over it together.”
Her eyes lit up. “Thank you, sir. I’ll be there right after club activities.”
That was how you ended up here, door locked, blinds drawn in the small faculty office at the end of the hall. Dahyun stood in front of your desk, biting her lip as she handed over her essay. You scanned it quickly—solid work, as usual—but you both knew this wasn’t really about the grade.
“You’ve been working hard,” you murmured, setting the papers aside. “Such a good girl for me.”
The pet name made her cheeks flush pink. She stepped closer, between your spread legs. “I try to be, Teacher Lee. I like making you proud.”
Your hand found her waist, pulling her onto your lap. She straddled you easily, her skirt bunching up around her hips as she leaned in to kiss you. It started soft, almost shy, but quickly turned hungry. Her fingers tugged at your tie while your hands slid under her blouse, palming her breasts through her bra. Dahyun moaned quietly into your mouth, grinding down against the growing hardness in your slacks.
“We shouldn’t,” you whispered against her lips, even as you unbuttoned her blouse.
“But you want to,” she breathed back. “I’ve seen how you look at me during class. I touch myself thinking about it every night.”
That confession broke whatever was left of your restraint. You lifted her onto the desk, spreading her legs wide. Her panties were already damp. You pushed them aside and ran your tongue along her folds, tasting how sweet and wet she was for you. Dahyun’s hands flew to your hair, gripping tight as you licked and sucked on her clit.
“Sir—oh god, yes,” she whimpered, trying to keep her voice down in case anyone was still wandering the halls. Her thighs trembled around your head when she came, quick and sharp, biting her lip to stifle the sound.
You stood up, wiping your mouth before kissing her again so she could taste herself. She fumbled with your belt, freeing your cock and stroking it with both small hands.
“Please, Teacher Lee,” she begged softly. “I need you inside me. I’ve been such a good pet all semester.”
You sat back in your office chair and pulled her onto you, facing you this time. Dahyun sank down slowly, gasping as you stretched her open. She was tight and perfect, her walls fluttering around your cock. Once she was fully seated, she started riding you, rolling her hips in that graceful way that drove you crazy.
“That’s it, baby,” you groaned, hands on her ass guiding her movements. “Ride your teacher’s cock like the eager little pet you are.”
She buried her face in your neck, moaning your title over and over as she bounced faster. The chair creaked under you both. You reached between you to rub her clit, making her clench even tighter. Her second orgasm hit harder, soaking your lap as she shook in your arms.
You weren’t finished. You lifted her off and bent her over the desk, flipping her skirt up. The sight of her glistening pussy and the way she looked back at you with those needy eyes made your blood run hot. You pushed back in from behind in one smooth thrust, gripping her hips as you fucked her deep and steady.
“Fuck, you feel so good,” you growled, one hand coming down in a light spank that made her yelp and push back for more. “Taking me so well in my office like this. Anyone could knock on that door.”
The risky thought only made her wetter. You reached around to play with her breasts, pinching her nipples while you pounded into her. Dahyun’s moans grew louder despite her efforts to stay quiet. You pulled her up by the waist until her back was against your chest, one arm wrapped around her as you continued thrusting.
“Gonna cum inside my good girl,” you whispered hotly in her ear. “Fill you up so you remember who you belong to.”
“Yes, sir—please cum in me,” she whined, reaching back to hold onto your neck. “I’m yours.”
You thrust deep one last time and came hard, pumping rope after rope of cum into her tight pussy. Dahyun came with you, clenching rhythmically as she milked every drop. You stayed buried inside her for a long moment, both of you catching your breath.
Eventually you pulled out, watching a trickle of your cum run down her thigh. You grabbed some tissues from the desk and cleaned her gently, then helped fix her uniform. Dahyun turned in your arms, kissing you softly now that the heat had settled into something warmer.
“You’re going to ruin my grades if we keep doing this,” she teased, though her smile was shy and satisfied.
You chuckled, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Then I’ll just have to give you private tutoring sessions every week, sweetheart.”
She hugged you tighter, nuzzling into your chest. “I’d like that, Teacher Lee. A lot.”
The two of you stayed like that for a while longer, the quiet office feeling like your own little world away from the rest of the school. Outside, the hallway lights flickered on as evening settled in, but inside, Dahyun was still your perfect teacher’s pet—messy, marked, and completely yours for as long as you could keep this secret.
She fixed her skirt one last time and gave you a quick peck on the cheek before slipping toward the door. “See you in class tomorrow, sir. I’ll make sure to sit in the front row.”
You watched her leave with a smile, already counting down the hours until the next “extra credit” session.
Dahyun didn’t even make it out the door before she paused, glancing back at you with that playful little spark in her eyes. “Actually… I don’t think I’m ready to leave yet, Teacher Lee. My legs still feel shaky.”
You stood up, crossing the small office in two strides and pulling her back inside, locking the door again with a soft click. She giggled quietly as you backed her against the wall, your body pressing into hers. The afternoon light filtering through the blinds caught the flush on her cheeks, making her look even more irresistible.
“You’re going to get us both in trouble one of these days,” you murmured, tilting her chin up for another kiss. This one was slower, deeper, like you had all the time in the world even though the risk hung in the air.
“Worth it,” she whispered against your lips, her small hands already working on your shirt buttons. “I’ve been thinking about you all week. Every time you called on me in class, I got so wet just hearing your voice.”
Her confession sent a fresh wave of heat through you. You hiked her skirt up again, fingers slipping back between her thighs to find her still slick and leaking your cum from earlier. She moaned softly as you pushed two fingers inside, curling them while your thumb circled her sensitive clit. Dahyun’s head fell back against the wall, her hips rocking into your hand.
“Such a needy little pet,” you praised, kissing along her jaw. “Already ready for more.”
She nodded eagerly, breath coming in short gasps. “Please, sir. I want you again.”
You spun her around gently, bending her over the edge of the desk once more but this time facing the window. The blinds were closed, but the faint shadows of the empty hallway outside added that delicious edge of danger. You lined yourself up and slid back into her soaked pussy in one smooth thrust, groaning at how perfectly she gripped you.
Dahyun pushed back to meet every stroke, her hands gripping the far edge of the desk. “Harder, Teacher Lee… I can take it.”
You gave her what she asked for, snapping your hips faster, the sound of skin meeting skin filling the quiet office. One hand reached around to rub her clit while the other held her waist steady. She was trembling, little whimpers escaping despite her best efforts to stay quiet. When you felt her start to tighten around you, you leaned down, lips brushing her ear.
“Cum for me, baby. Let your favorite teacher feel it.”
She came hard, biting down on her own arm to muffle the cry, her walls pulsing around your cock. The sensation pulled you right over the edge with her. You buried yourself deep and spilled inside again, filling her until it started to drip down her thighs.
This time you didn’t pull out right away. Instead, you stayed pressed against her back, both of you catching your breath. You kissed the back of her neck softly, brushing damp strands of hair away from her face. Dahyun turned her head, smiling that bright, genuine smile that always made your chest feel tight.
“You’re too good to me,” she said quietly, voice a little hoarse. “I know this is risky, but I don’t want to stop seeing you like this.”
You helped her straighten up, cleaning her carefully with tissues and a bottle of water from your drawer. Then you pulled her into your lap on the chair again, this time just holding her close. Her head rested on your shoulder, fingers playing with the collar of your shirt.
“Neither do I, sweetheart,” you admitted, rubbing slow circles on her back. “We’ll be careful. But you’re mine now. My good girl.”
She hummed contentedly, nuzzling closer. The school building had gone completely quiet around you, the distant sound of a janitor’s cart somewhere far down the hall the only reminder that the world outside still existed. For these stolen moments, though, it was just the two of you—teacher and pet, tangled up in something neither of you could walk away from.
After a while, Dahyun shifted, pressing a soft kiss to your neck. “Next time… maybe after the parent-teacher meetings? I could stay late again.”
You chuckled, squeezing her hip. “You’re going to be the death of me, Dahyun.”
“But a happy death,” she teased, her eyes sparkling as she finally stood up and smoothed her uniform one last time. This time when she headed for the door, she looked back with a wink. “See you tomorrow, sir. Front row, like I promised.”
You watched her slip out, the faint scent of her perfume lingering in the office long after she was gone. Grading papers had never felt more motivating.
Tags : Reverse Ntr, Romance, MILF, Fate, Blowjobs, Kissing, Mating, Breeding, Threesome, Slow-Burn Romance, Cowgirl, Missionary, Creampie, Heartbreak, Hardcore Sex, Over the Top Moaning
Words : 14,790 Words
A Commission Story For My Friend @hijack711 Hope Yiy Enjoyed The Story.
The restaurant was too quiet.
Not the comfortable kind of quiet that settles over a room after a good meal. This was the other kind—the kind that pools in corners and makes you aware of every clink of silverware, every murmur of conversation happening in distant booths. The kind that makes you check your phone even though you know there aren't any messages worth reading.
You'd been sitting there for twenty-three minutes. The reservation was for seven. Moka had insisted on seven, because seven was "fashionably early enough to be seen but late enough to seem exclusive." Her words, repeated with that particular tilt of her chin that suggested she was explaining something you should already understand.
The waiter had refilled your water glass three times. Each time, his expression shifted a little further from professional courtesy toward something that looked uncomfortably like pity.
When Moka finally arrived—thirty-one minutes late, not that you were counting anymore—she swept through the door like she was doing the restaurant a favor just by existing in it. Valentino dress. Prada heels. Hair done in that way that looked effortless but probably cost more than your monthly rent. She was beautiful, objectively. You'd thought so when you first met her at that charity gala your roommate had dragged you to, the one where you'd accidentally wandered into the VIP section and she'd mistaken you for someone important.
"Sorry," she said, sliding into the seat across from you without actually looking at you. Her eyes were scanning the room, cataloging who was there, who was watching. "Daddy's jet was delayed."
Her father had been dead for six years. "Daddy" was what she called whichever business partner her mother was currently courting.
"It's fine."
It wasn't fine. You'd already decided it wasn't fine about fifteen minutes ago, but saying that felt like more effort than it was worth.
Moka ordered a bottle of wine that cost more than your entire outfit. She didn't ask what you wanted. She never did.
"So," she said, finally fixing her gaze on you. Her eyes were a shade of brown so dark they were almost black, and there was something in them tonight that you hadn't seen before—something cold and final, like a door that had already been closed before she'd even sat down. "We need to talk."
The four most terrifying words in any relationship.
"About?"
She laughed, but it wasn't a real laugh. It was the laugh she used at parties when someone told a joke she didn't understand but wanted to seem like she did. "About us. About this." She gestured vaguely between you, her manicured fingernails catching the candlelight. "About how this isn't working."
You should have seen it coming. In retrospect, all the signs were there. The canceled dates. The texts left on read. The way she'd introduced you to her friends at that rooftop party last month as "just someone I'm seeing" with the same tone someone might use to describe a pair of shoes they weren't sure about keeping.
But you hadn't seen it coming, because you'd been stupid enough to think that maybe, underneath all the designer labels and social climbing, there was a person who actually liked you.
"I don't understand."
Moka sighed, the kind of put-upon exhale that suggested she was being asked to explain something painfully obvious. "You're sweet. Really. You're like… a golden retriever. Adorable. But I need a wolf."
"A wolf."
"Someone who can keep up. Someone who belongs in my world." She said "my world" the way a queen might refer to her kingdom. "And let's be honest, you don't. I mean, what do you even do? You're a—what was it?—a junior something at some firm nobody's heard of."
"Junior marketing associate." The words felt like ash in your mouth.
"Right. That." She waved her hand dismissively. "My friends think it's cute. They think you're cute. But cute doesn't really… last, you know? Cute doesn't close deals at dinner parties. Cute doesn't get you into the places I want to go."
You sat there, letting her words wash over you. The restaurant hummed around you. The wine arrived. She poured herself a glass without offering you any.
"And honestly," Moka continued, her voice dropping to something that was almost conspiratorial, "there are other issues."
"What issues?"
She took a sip of wine. Held it in her mouth for a moment. Swallowed. "Let's talk about the night we tried to… you know."
The night. Three weeks ago. Her apartment. The one with floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out over the city like the whole skyline had been arranged just for her viewing pleasure. She'd been in a mood—playful, almost affectionate—and for the first time in months, you'd felt like maybe things were turning around.
Until your clothes came off.
"I've been with guys before," Moka said, her tone clinical, detached, like she was discussing quarterly earnings. "I know what to expect. But you…" She shook her head. "That's not normal. That's not even close to normal."
Heat crept up your neck. Not the good kind.
"Do you know what it's like trying to… accommodate that? It's like trying to fit an entire fire hydrant into a coffee cup. It doesn't work. It hurt. And then you had the audacity to look disappointed when I told you to stop."
"I wasn't disappointed—"
"You were. I could see it." She leaned forward, her eyes narrowing. "And you know what happened after? I told Chloe about it. And Sarah. And Jenna. And they told other people. And now everyone knows about the guy with the freak dick who couldn't even—"
She stopped herself, but the damage was already done.
Everyone knows.
The waiter approached with menus, took one look at the situation, and wisely retreated.
"I think it's best if we just… end this," Moka said, smoothing down her dress like the conversation had somehow wrinkled it. "Clean break. You'll be fine. You're a nice guy. Someone out there will appreciate… all of that." She gestured vaguely toward your lap. "Just not someone with my standards."
She stood up. Dropped a hundred-dollar bill on the table—for the wine she'd ordered, presumably. Not for you. Never for you.
"Don't call me," she said. "Don't text me. Don't show up at my building. I've already told security about you, just in case."
And then she was gone, leaving nothing behind but the scent of expensive perfume and the slow, horrible realization that you'd just been broken up with in a restaurant where you couldn't even afford the appetizers.
The next three weeks passed in a blur of work, takeout, and the kind of self-pity that only feels appropriate in your early twenties. You blocked Moka's number. Deleted her photos. Tried not to think about the way she'd looked at you that night, like you were something broken that she couldn't figure out how to fix.
It worked, mostly. You went to work. You came home. You watched bad reality TV and ate cereal for dinner and told yourself that this was fine, this was recovery, this was what moving on looked like.
What you didn't know—what you couldn't have known—was that while you were learning to forget Moka, her mother's empire was beginning to crumble.
Aeri Nakamura was not a woman accustomed to failure.
At fourty-one, she had built Nakamura Industries from a modest textiles company into a multinational conglomerate with holdings in real estate, technology, fashion, and entertainment. Her face appeared on business magazines with alarming regularity. Her opinions moved markets. Her approval could make or break careers, and her disapproval could end them entirely.
So when three of her biggest clients pulled out of negotiations in the same week—without explanation, without warning—she didn't panic. Panic was for people who hadn't spent thirty years building an empire from nothing. Instead, she called her analysts. She demanded reports. She looked for patterns, for weaknesses, for anything that might explain why her carefully constructed business was suddenly hemorrhaging money and influence like a wound that refused to close.
The analysts found nothing.
The reports showed nothing.
The pattern, if there was one, remained stubbornly invisible.
"Perhaps it's just a rough patch," her assistant suggested, which was the wrong thing to say to a woman who didn't believe in rough patches. Aeri believed in cause and effect. In action and reaction. In problems that existed because someone had made them exist, and solutions that could be found if you were smart enough to look in the right places.
She fired the assistant. Hired a new one. Had the new one compile a list of every business partner who had withdrawn support, every client who had gone elsewhere, every deal that had fallen through in the past month.
The list was longer than she expected.
Twenty-seven names. Twenty-seven severed connections. And when she cross-referenced them against the timeline of her company's decline, she found something that made her blood run cold.
Every single one of those connections had broken in the three weeks since her daughter had ended her relationship with—
"What's his name again?" Aeri asked, staring at the photo on her desk. A candid shot, taken at some gala or another. Moka, dressed to perfection, her arm linked through the arm of a young man who looked distinctly uncomfortable in his rented tuxedo.
"According to the file, his name is—"
"I don't need the file," Aeri said, her voice sharp. "I need to understand what he has to do with my company's downturn."
The new assistant shifted uncomfortably. "Ma'am, one of your advisors suggested… that is, she recommended you speak with someone."
"Who?"
"She didn't give a name. Just an address." The assistant placed a small card on the desk. "She said this person specializes in… unusual business problems."
Aeri picked up the card. It was plain white, with nothing on it but an address written in careful, old-fashioned handwriting. No phone number. No website. No indication of what kind of business this "specialist" conducted.
She should have thrown it away. She should have laughed at the absurdity of it—one of the most powerful women in the country, reduced to seeking advice from some anonymous consultant with a handwritten business card.
Instead, she put the card in her purse.
The address led her to a part of the city she'd never visited before. The buildings here were older, narrower, their facades marked with the kind of wear that came from decades of neglect rather than years. The shop fronts advertised services in languages she didn't recognize. The streets smelled of incense and cooking oil and something else, something that made the hair on the back of her neck stand up.
The building at the end of the alley was three stories tall, its windows covered with thick curtains that allowed no glimpse of what lay inside. A small sign above the door read simply: CONSULTATIONS.
No name. No explanation.
Aeri pushed the door open.
The room inside was dim, lit only by candles arranged in patterns on the floor. The walls were lined with shelves holding jars of things she didn't want to identify. At the center of the room, sitting cross-legged on a cushion, was a woman so old that her skin looked like parchment stretched over bone.
"Mrs. Nakamura," the woman said, her voice dry as autumn leaves. "I wondered when you would come."
"You know who I am."
"I know many things. That is my purpose." The woman gestured to a cushion across from her. "Sit. Let us discuss the problem that brought you here."
Aeri didn't sit. "I'm not here to discuss problems. I'm here to find solutions."
The old woman smiled, revealing teeth stained with something dark. "They are often the same thing, are they not? Now sit. Please. My neck is not what it used to be, and looking up at you is painful."
Reluctantly, Aeri lowered herself onto the cushion. The floor was harder than it looked, and she could feel the cold seeping through the fabric of her trousers.
"You have lost something," the woman said. "Or rather, your daughter has discarded something. Something that brought fortune to your house."
"My daughter's romantic entanglements have nothing to do with my business."
"Haven't they?" The woman's eyes glittered in the candlelight. "Tell me, Mrs. Nakamura—when did your fortunes begin to change? What occurred three weeks ago that might explain the sudden shift in your circumstances?"
Aeri's jaw tightened. "My daughter ended a relationship. That's hardly—"
"The young man she dismissed was not ordinary," the woman interrupted. "He carries with him a rare quality. A resonance. What some might call luck, though the word is inadequate. His presence amplifies fortune. His absence… diminishes it."
"That's absurd."
"Is it?" The woman reached into the folds of her robe and produced a small leather pouch. From it, she withdrew three bones—old and yellowed, marked with symbols Aeri didn't recognize. She cast them onto the floor between them, studying the pattern they made with an intensity that bordered on reverent. "The bones do not lie, Mrs. Nakamura. This young man was the anchor of your prosperity. Without him, everything you have built will continue to erode until nothing remains but dust and memory."
Aeri stared at the bones. They meant nothing to her—just fragments of something long dead, arranged in patterns that could mean anything or nothing at all.
But she couldn't deny the timing.
She couldn't deny the twenty-seven names on her list.
"How do I fix it?" The words came out before she could stop them, a surrender she hadn't intended to make.
The old woman's smile widened. "You bring him back. You bind him to you. Not through contracts or payments—those will fail, because his value cannot be measured in currency. You must offer him something that cannot be bought. Something that only you can give."
"Such as?"
The woman gathered her bones, returning them to their pouch with deliberate care. "That is for you to discover. The path will reveal itself. But know this—if you approach him with the same arrogance your daughter showed, you will fail. This young man has been wounded by your family. He will not trust easily. You must be patient. You must be sincere. And you must be willing to give more than you ever thought you could."
Aeri rose to her feet, her legs unsteady beneath her. The candlelight flickered, casting strange shadows on the walls. For a moment, she thought she saw shapes moving in the darkness—forms that didn't correspond to anything in the physical world.
"You believe in this," she said, gesturing at the room, the jars, the strange symbols painted on the ceiling.
"I believe in what works," the woman replied. "And this will work, if you let it. The question is whether you have the courage to see it through."
Aeri spent the next three days in her penthouse office, staring at files and doing nothing productive.
She should have dismissed the fortune teller's words as superstition. She should have focused on tangible business strategies, on negotiations and acquisitions, on the practical mechanics of rebuilding what she'd lost.
Instead, she found herself pulling up everything she could find on the young man her daughter had discarded.
Twenty-three years old. Junior marketing associate at a mid-tier firm. Modest apartment in a neighborhood that wasn't dangerous but wasn't impressive either. No criminal record. No significant debts. No obvious connections to anyone of importance.
And yet.
And yet there was something about his photograph that held her attention longer than it should have. Something in the set of his jaw, the directness of his gaze. Moka had called him a golden retriever, but Aeri saw something different—something steadier, more substantial. This was not a man who would bend to please others. This was a man who knew exactly who he was and saw no reason to pretend otherwise.
The fortune teller's words echoed in her mind. You must offer him something that cannot be bought.
What did she have that couldn't be bought? Her company? Her influence? Her wealth? All of those were eminently purchasable, given sufficient resources. Her body?
She paused at that thought, examining it from different angles.
Aeri was not a woman who thought about sex often. Her marriage had been a business arrangement, devoid of passion but rich in strategic advantage. After her husband's death—a car accident that had been genuinely tragic, if not emotionally devastating—she had thrown herself into her work with the single-minded intensity of someone fleeing from something they didn't want to name.
There had been men since then. Discreet arrangements with escorts who knew how to be professional. A few attempts at actual dating that had ended in mutual disappointment. The escorts had been adequate. The dates had been forgettable. None of them had made her feel anything beyond the fleeting satisfaction of a biological need temporarily met.
But lately—in the past year or so—that satisfaction had become harder to find. The escorts' touches felt mechanical. The dates' kisses felt hollow. She would lie in her enormous bed, in her enormous apartment, surrounded by the evidence of her enormous success, and feel a hollowness that no amount of business deals could fill.
She was lonely.
She was hungry in a way that had nothing to do with food.
And now, looking at this photograph of a man half her age—a man who had been intimate with her daughter, who had been humiliated and discarded by her daughter—Aeri felt something stir in her chest that she hadn't felt in years.
Desire.
Curiosity.
The beginning of an idea that was either brilliant or catastrophic, and she wasn't sure which yet.
Finding you was easy. Approaching you was harder.
Aeri had her people arrange a "chance" encounter at a coffee shop near your office—a place you visited every morning at 8:15, according to the surveillance report she'd commissioned. She arrived early, dressed down in a way that was calculated to seem uncalculated. Designer jeans instead of power suits. Cashmere sweater instead of structured blazers. Hair down instead of pinned back.
She looked, she hoped, like a woman rather than a CEO.
When you walked through the door, she felt something shift in the air around her. A pressure change. A subtle rearrangement of the atmosphere.
The photograph hadn't done you justice.
You were taller than she'd expected. Broader in the shoulders. Your face had a quality that photographs couldn't capture—an expressiveness that shifted with every passing thought, every flicker of emotion. You moved through the coffee shop like you belonged there, like you belonged everywhere, with an unselfconscious confidence that most men your age could only fake.
And then your eyes met hers, and Aeri Nakamura—who had negotiated billion-dollar deals without breaking a sweat—felt her mouth go dry.
She approached your table with her coffee in hand, her movements deliberately unhurried. "Excuse me," she said, her voice carefully modulated. "I believe we have a mutual acquaintance. My daughter, Moka."
Your expression shifted. Closed off. "Mrs. Nakamura."
"You know who I am."
"Hard not to. You're on the cover of half the magazines in this city." Your tone was neutral, but there was an edge beneath it. Wariness. Suspicion. "If Moka sent you to—"
"She didn't send me." Aeri set her coffee down on your table, taking the seat across from you without waiting for an invitation. "She doesn't know I'm here. And I'd prefer to keep it that way, if you don't mind."
You studied her for a long moment, your eyes searching her face for something. Whatever you were looking for, you seemed to find it—or at least enough of it to relax slightly.
"What do you want?"
"Direct. I appreciate that." Aeri wrapped her hands around her coffee cup, more to give herself something to do with them than because she needed the warmth. "I have a proposition for you. A business arrangement that I believe would be mutually beneficial."
"I'm not interested in working for Nakamura Industries."
"That's not what I'm offering." She leaned forward slightly, lowering her voice. "I've done some research, and I understand that my daughter treated you poorly. That she humiliated you in public, discussed private matters with her friends, and ultimately discarded you as though you were beneath her consideration. Is that accurate?"
The muscle in your jaw tightened. "That's one way to put it."
"I want to make amends. Not on her behalf—she's responsible for her own behavior, and I won't make excuses for her. But on behalf of my family, which treated you with a level of disrespect that I find… unacceptable." Aeri paused, choosing her next words carefully. "I'm prepared to offer you a substantial sum of money. Enough to change your circumstances. Enough to give you a fresh start, far away from anyone who ever thought they had the right to look down on you."
Your expression didn't change. "In exchange for what?"
"For your continued presence in my life. Not as an employee. Not as a public figure. Simply as… let's call it a consultant. Someone whose company I enjoy, whose perspective I value." She smiled, a practiced expression that had served her well in countless negotiations. "I've been told that you bring good fortune. I'm not sure I believe in such things, but I believe in hedging my bets."
You were quiet for a long time. The coffee shop hummed around you. A barista called out an order. Someone laughed at a nearby table.
"No," you said finally.
"No?"
"No. I'm not interested in being anyone's lucky charm. I'm not interested in being bought. And I'm definitely not interested in getting tangled up with your family again." You stood up, gathering your things. "Thank you for the coffee, Mrs. Nakamura. I hope your business recovers. But leave me out of it."
And then you walked out, leaving Aeri sitting alone at the table with her untouched coffee and her carefully constructed plan in ruins.
She should have been angry. She should have been frustrated. Instead, sitting there in the aftermath of your rejection, she felt something unexpected.
Excitement.
You weren't going to be easy. You weren't going to be bought with money or swayed by flattery. You had been wounded by her family, and you had the backbone to refuse the very compensation that anyone else in your position would have jumped at.
This was going to require a different approach entirely.
Over the next week, Aeri found excuses to be where you were.
A gallery opening that one of her subsidiaries was sponsoring—she made sure you received an invitation through a third party. A business conference where you'd been sent to represent your firm—she arranged to be the keynote speaker and made a point of finding you during the networking session. A charity dinner that she knew your boss was attending—she requested to be seated at your table.
Each time, you were polite. Each time, you were distant. Each time, you made it clear that her attention was neither welcomed nor encouraged.
And each time, Aeri found herself more intrigued than before.
You weren't like the men who usually sought her favor. You didn't flatter. You didn't grovel. You didn't try to impress her with your credentials or your connections or your carefully rehearsed anecdotes. You simply… existed, with a self-contained quality that she found increasingly magnetic.
On the eighth day, she confronted you directly.
"You've been avoiding me."
You looked up from your drink—you were at a hotel bar this time, attending an event she'd made sure you'd be at—and met her eyes with that direct gaze she was beginning to recognize. "You've been following me."
"I prefer to think of it as persistent networking."
"Is that what you call it?"
Aeri slid onto the barstool next to you, signaling the bartender for her usual. "What would you call it?"
You considered the question for a moment, swirling the amber liquid in your glass. "Stalking, maybe. Or harassment. Depends on how generous I'm feeling."
"And how generous are you feeling tonight?"
"Not very."
The bartender set a glass of whiskey in front of Aeri. She took a sip, letting the warmth spread through her chest before she spoke again. "I owe you an apology."
"You don't owe me anything."
"I do, actually. When I first approached you, I treated this as a transaction. I offered you money in exchange for your presence, as though you were a commodity to be purchased. That was disrespectful. You deserved better."
You turned on your stool, facing her fully for the first time since she'd sat down. The movement brought you closer than she'd expected, close enough that she could smell your cologne—something clean and subtle, not the overwhelming assault of fragrance that so many men your age favored.
"Why do you care so much?" you asked. "Why am I worth all this effort? And don't give me the fortune teller story again. I want the real reason."
Aeri felt her carefully maintained composure falter. Here, in the dim light of the hotel bar, with the ambient hum of conversation around them and the whiskey warming her blood, the lines she'd drawn between business and something else began to blur.
"Because I'm lonely," she said. The words came out before she could stop them, honest in a way she rarely allowed herself to be. "Because I've spent thirty years building an empire, and somewhere along the way, I forgot to build a life. Because my daughter is a disappointment, and my husband is dead, and every man I've been with since his death has been either boring or intimidated or both." She took another sip of whiskey. "And because when I look at you, I feel something that I haven't felt in a very long time. Something that has nothing to do with business."
The silence that followed stretched between them like a wire pulled taut.
"What do you feel?" you asked, your voice lower now.
"Interest. Attraction. Hope, maybe, though that one terrifies me more than the others." Aeri set her glass down, her eyes never leaving yours. "I'm not offering you money anymore. I'm not offering you a job. I'm offering you… me. Whatever that's worth. Whatever you want it to be."
You studied her face for what felt like an eternity. Aeri held your gaze, refusing to look away, refusing to retreat behind the walls she'd spent decades building.
"My daughter doesn't deserve you," she said, the words tasting like revelation on her tongue. "She never did. But I'm not my daughter. And if you give me a chance—a real chance, not a transaction, not an arrangement—I think you might find that I have more to offer than she ever could."
"Such as?"
She reached out, her fingers brushing against your wrist. The contact was electric, sending a shiver up her arm that had nothing to do with the air conditioning.
"Loyalty," she said. "Desire. A body that knows what it wants and isn't afraid to ask for it. A mind that appreciates what you are instead of trying to change you." She paused, her thumb tracing a small circle against your skin. "And an empire. If you want it. If you want me."
The bar continued its quiet murmur around you. Somewhere, a woman laughed. A glass clinked against a table. The world went on, oblivious to the seismic shift happening in the space between two people at the bar.
"You're serious," you said.
"I've never been more serious about anything in my life."
"What about Moka?"
"Moka made her choice. She chose status over substance. She chose cruelty over kindness. And she chose to discard you like you didn't matter." Aeri's fingers tightened around your wrist. "I'm making a different choice. I'm choosing you. Not for luck. Not for business. For myself. For the first time in my life, I'm choosing something just because I want it."
Your free hand came up, covering hers where it rested on your wrist. The touch was gentle, tentative—a question rather than an answer.
"If we do this," you said, "there's no going back. You understand that?"
"I don't want to go back."
"If this becomes something real—"
"I want it to become something real. I want it to become everything." Aeri leaned closer, close enough that she could feel the warmth of your breath against her lips. "I want you to fuck me. I want you to ruin me. I want you to fill me with your babies and build an empire at my side. I want to wake up every morning and look at the man beside me and know that I chose him—not for convenience, not for strategy, but because he was the only thing I ever wanted that money couldn't buy."
The air between you crackled with tension. Your hand tightened on hers.
"Your hotel or mine?" you asked.
The elevator ride to the penthouse suite lasted approximately forty-five seconds. Aeri spent every one of those seconds pressed against you, her hands exploring the contours of your chest through your shirt, her mouth tracing a line of kisses along your jaw.
"You have no idea," she murmured against your skin, "how long it's been since I wanted someone like this."
Your hands found her hips, pulling her closer. "You've been married."
"A marriage of convenience. He was adequate. Efficient. Utterly forgettable." She nipped at your earlobe, drawing a sharp breath from you. "Nothing like what I expect from you."
The elevator doors opened. Aeri pulled you down the hallway toward her suite, her heels clicking against the marble floor in a rhythm that matched your quickening pulse. She fumbled with the key card, her usual composure dissolving into something more urgent, more desperate.
The door swung open. Inside, the suite was all muted golds and soft lighting, the city skyline glittering through floor-to-ceiling windows. A king-sized bed dominated the far wall, its sheets turned down invitingly.
Aeri turned to face you, her chest rising and falling with rapid breaths. "Before we do this," she said, "I need you to know something."
"What?"
"My daughter told me about your… situation. What she said to you. What she told her friends." She stepped closer, her hands coming up to rest on your shoulders. "She was wrong. Everything she said was wrong. There's nothing freakish about you. Nothing abnormal. You're exactly as you should be, and I want all of it. All of you. Do you understand?"
A complicated emotion flickered across your features—relief, maybe, or something deeper. "You don't even know what you're signing up for."
"Then show me." Aeri's voice dropped to a whisper. "Show me what my daughter was too foolish to appreciate."
Your mouth crashed against hers.
The kiss was nothing like the chaste, careful kisses Aeri had shared with her escorts, her business dates, her late husband. This was hunger. This was need. This was months of loneliness and years of frustration pouring out through the press of lips and the slide of tongues and the sharp, desperate sound that escaped her throat when your hands slid down to cup her ass.
"Mmpf—" The sound was muffled against your mouth, half moan and half whimper. "The bed—"
You walked her backward toward it, your bodies tangled together, your hands already working at the buttons of her blouse. She returned the favor, yanking at your tie, your shirt, the belt that suddenly seemed impossibly complicated. Fabric rustled. Buttons scattered. Somewhere in the distance, a car horn blared and was ignored.
"Wait," Aeri gasped, pulling back just enough to look at you. Her blouse hung open, revealing the black lace of her bra. Her hair had come loose from its careful arrangement, falling in waves around her shoulders. "I want—I need you to know that this isn't just about sex. This isn't just about the company or the fortune teller or any of that. When I said I was lonely, I meant it. When I said I wanted you, I meant that too."
"I believe you."
"You should know what you're getting into. I'm demanding. I'm difficult. I've spent my whole life getting what I want, and I don't know how to be any other way."
A smile tugged at the corner of your mouth. "I think I can handle it."
"Confident. Good." She pulled you down onto the bed, rolling so that she was straddling you, her thighs bracketing your hips. From this angle, you could see the flush spreading across her chest, the way her pupils had dilated until her eyes were nearly black. "Then let me show you what you've been missing."
She kissed you again, slower this time, more deliberate. Her hips rolled against yours in a lazy rhythm, the heat of her obvious even through the layers of clothing that still separated you. When she pulled back, her lips were swollen, her breathing uneven.
"Touch me," she said. "Please."
Your hands found the clasp of her bra, fumbling for a moment before it released. The fabric fell away, and Aeri sat back, letting you look at her.
At fourty-one, her body showed the evidence of her age—soft curves where there had once been sharp angles, gentle lines around her eyes and mouth—but there was something about her that felt more real, more present, than any of the polished twenty-somethings who populated Moka's social circle. Her breasts were full, her nipples dark and already pebbled with arousal. Her stomach had a softness to it that spoke of indulgence and comfort rather than deprivation and discipline.
"Beautiful," you murmured.
"Flatterer." But she was smiling, a genuine smile that transformed her face into something younger, almost girlish. "Now stop stalling and touch me."
You did. Your hands came up to cup her breasts, thumbs brushing over her nipples in slow circles. Aeri's back arched, a sharp exhale escaping her lips.
"Ahh—yes, like that. Just like that." Her hips ground down against you, seeking friction. "You have no idea how long it's been since someone touched me like this. Since someone touched me at all."
"Tell me."
"Months. Years, maybe. The escorts I hired—they were professional, but they didn't—ohh, right there—they didn't care. They were performing. You're not performing, are you?"
"No."
"Good. Because I want this to be real. I want everything about this to be real." She leaned down, her lips brushing against your ear. "Now. I believe you're wearing entirely too many clothes."
Getting you undressed was a collaborative effort. Her trousers went first, sliding down her legs with a whisper of expensive fabric. Then your shirt, your pants, the boxers that were the last barrier between you and everything she'd been fantasizing about since that first meeting at the coffee shop.
When you were finally bare before her, Aeri sat back on her heels, her gaze traveling down your body with undisguised appreciation.
"Moka said—" She stopped, shook her head. "No. I'm not going to talk about my daughter right now. This is between us. Just us." Her hand reached out, fingers wrapping around your length with a gentleness that bordered on reverent. "God. You're magnificent. She was a fool. A complete and utter fool."
The sensation of her hand on you—warm, firm, confident—drew a groan from somewhere deep in your chest. "Aeri—"
"Shh. Let me appreciate you." She stroked you slowly, deliberately, her thumb tracing the ridge of your head on each upward pass. "Do you know what it's like, going through life thinking you've experienced everything sex has to offer, only to realize you've been settling for mediocrity? My husband—may he rest in peace—was barely half this size. I didn't know better then. I thought that was normal. Adequate. And now—"
She shifted her position, aligning her hips with yours. Even through the thin fabric of her panties, you could feel the heat of her, the slickness that had already soaked through the material.
"I want to feel you inside me," she said, her voice trembling slightly. "I want to know what it's like to be filled completely. I want you to ruin me for anyone else. Can you do that?"
"Yes."
"Then do it. Please. I need—" She broke off, her composure cracking for just a moment. "I need this. I need you."
Her panties were gone in an instant, torn aside with an urgency that made her gasp. The first touch of your cock against her entrance drew a sound from her lips that was somewhere between a moan and a sob.
"Slowly," she breathed. "I'm not—it's been a while, and you're—"
"I know. I'll go slow."
The head of your cock pressed against her, and Aeri's entire body tensed. Her hands gripped your shoulders, nails digging into skin. Her mouth fell open, a series of breathless sounds escaping as you pushed forward.
"Oh—ohh—fuck—"
The first inch entered her with a resistance that bordered on painful. Aeri's inner walls clung to you, tight and hot and impossibly wet. Her thighs trembled against your hips.
"More," she gasped. "Don't stop. I want all of it."
You pushed deeper. She cried out, her head falling back, exposing the elegant line of her throat. The sound wasn't pain—it was something closer to revelation.
"Yesss—oh god, yes—you're so deep, I can feel you everywhere—"
Her hips began to move, small rocking motions that took you deeper with each pass. The wet sounds of your joining filled the room—schlick, schlick—obscene and perfect. Aeri's inner muscles fluttered around you, adjusting to your size even as she continued to gasp and moan above you.
"Look at me," she commanded, and when your eyes met hers, the intensity in her gaze stole your breath. "I want you to see what you're doing to me. I want you to watch me fall apart on your cock."
She began to ride you in earnest then, her movements gaining confidence as her body accommodated your size. Each downward stroke drew a sharp cry from her lips. Each upward slide left her gasping for more.
"Fuck—fuck—you're so big, I can't—I've never—"
"Take your time."
"Don't want time. Want this. Want you. Want this forever." Her rhythm faltered, became erratic. "I'm already close. It's embarrassing. I've never—not this fast—"
"It's okay. Let go."
"Not yet. Not without you. I want—" She leaned forward, her breasts pressing against your chest, her lips finding your ear. "I want you to come inside me. I want you to fill me up. I want to feel you pulse and throb and spill into me until there's nothing left. Can you do that? Can you give me that?"
"Anything."
"Then fuck me," she breathed. "Fuck me like you mean it. Fuck me like you're never going to stop."
You rolled, reversing your positions in a single fluid motion. Aeri's back hit the mattress with a soft thump, her legs wrapping around your waist with desperate strength. Now you were the one in control, and you used that control ruthlessly.
Each thrust drove deeper than the last. Each stroke pulled sounds from Aeri that she'd never made before—high, keening cries that echoed off the walls of the suite. Her nails raked down your back. Her heels dug into your ass. Her eyes, locked on yours, were wide and wet and utterly vulnerable.
The rhythm of your bodies created its own music. The slap of skin against skin. The wet, sucking sounds of her pussy gripping your cock. The guttural groans tearing from your throat. The increasingly incoherent babble spilling from her lips.
"I'm going to—oh fuck, I'm going to—"
Her orgasm hit with the force of a tidal wave. Aeri's back arched off the bed, her mouth opening in a silent scream. Her inner walls convulsed around you—clenching, gripping, milking—and then, with a sound like a sob, she shattered.
"HNGHH—AHHH—FUUUCK—"
Fluid gushed around your shaft, soaking your thighs, the sheets, everything. The sensation of her spasming around you, combined with the visual of this powerful, composed woman completely undone, pushed you over the edge.
Your release was violent, overwhelming, the kind of orgasm that whites out thought and leaves nothing but sensation. Pulse after pulse of hot cum flooded into her, filling her exactly as she'd asked, and Aeri cried out again at the feeling of it.
"Yes—yes yes yes—I can feel it—I can feel you—so warm—so much—"
The world narrowed to the point where your bodies joined. Nothing existed beyond this room, this bed, this woman who was still trembling and gasping beneath you.
When you finally collapsed beside her, both of you struggling for breath, Aeri turned her head to look at you. Her face was flushed, her hair a wild tangle against the pillow, her lips curved in a smile that was equal parts satisfaction and wonder.
"That," she said, her voice hoarse, "was worth every failed business deal I've had in the past month."
A laugh bubbled up from somewhere in your chest. "Glad I could help."
"Help." She snorted, then winced slightly. "You didn't help. You reconfigured my entire understanding of what sex can be. My husband—god, my poor, boring, undersized husband—he never made me come. Not once. Twenty-three years of marriage, and he never—" She shook her head. "And you did it in minutes. You made me squirt, for god's sake. Do you know how many men have tried and failed?"
"How many?"
"Let's not dwell on the past." She rolled onto her side, propping herself up on one elbow. "The point is, you've ruined me. Completely. Irrevocably. I'll never be able to look at another man without comparing him to you, and they'll all come up short. Pun intended." Her free hand traced patterns on your chest, her touch light and almost shy. "Stay with me. Not just tonight. Permanently."
"Aeri—"
"I know it's fast. I know we barely know each other. But I've spent my whole life making careful, calculated decisions, and they've left me rich and successful and utterly alone. For once, I want to make an impulsive decision. I want to choose something just because it feels right." Her eyes searched yours. "This feels right. You feel right. Tell me I'm not crazy."
"You might be a little crazy."
"Crazy about you, perhaps. It's a risk I'm willing to take." She leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. "So? What do you say? Will you be mine? My lover, my partner, my… lucky charm?"
"Thought you didn't believe in luck."
"After tonight? I believe in everything." She smiled, a real smile that reached her eyes and transformed her face into something younger, lighter, freer. "Say yes. Please. I've never begged for anything in my life, but I'll beg for you if I have to."
The city glittered beyond the windows. The sheets were a mess beneath you, soaked with evidence of what you'd just done. And this woman—this powerful, complicated, unexpectedly vulnerable woman—was looking at you like you were the answer to a question she'd stopped asking years ago.
"Okay," you said.
"Okay?"
"I'll stay."
The smile that broke across Aeri's face was incandescent. She kissed you again, longer this time, deeper, and when she pulled back, there were tears glistening in her eyes.
"Thank you," she whispered. "You won't regret this. I swear on everything I own, you won't regret this."
In the distance, her phone buzzed with what was probably another crisis, another business partner pulling out, another deal falling through. Aeri didn't even glance toward it. All her attention was fixed on you—the man in her bed, the man she'd chosen, the man she'd bound herself to with nothing but hope and desire and the lingering pulse of shared pleasure.
"We should clean up," she said eventually, making no move to get up.
"Probably."
"And you should get some rest. Because tomorrow—" Her smile turned wicked, full of promise and intent. "Tomorrow, I'm going to show you exactly what you've signed up for. And I don't think you're ready."
"A challenge?"
"A preview." Her fingers traced lower, brushing against your spent length with deliberate lightness. "I've got thirty years of frustration to work through, and you've just volunteered to be my outlet. I hope you've got stamina."
Your body stirred at her touch despite the exhaustion settling into your bones. "Guess you'll find out."
"Mmm." She kissed your shoulder, your collarbone, the hollow of your throat. "I can't wait. But for now—sleep. You'll need it."
She curled against your side, her head finding the space between your shoulder and your chest like it had always belonged there. Within minutes, her breathing slowed, her body relaxing into the boneless contentment of true satisfaction.
And outside the window, the city kept glittering, indifferent to the seismic shift that had just occurred in the lives of two people who had started the night as strangers and ended it as something far more complicated.
Tomorrow would bring questions. Complications. The inevitable confrontation with Moka, when she discovered that her mother had taken up with her discarded lover. The whispers in the business world. The scandal that would rock Nakamura Industries to its foundations.
But tonight, there was only this. The warmth of tangled bodies. The scent of sex and satisfaction. The soft, steady rhythm of Aeri's breathing as she slept in your arms.
Whatever came next, one thing was certain.
Everything had changed.
The phone buzzed again at 3:47 AM.
Aeri stirred, reaching for it automatically. Her business instincts, ingrained over three decades, wouldn't let her ignore a potential crisis, no matter how satisfied she was.
The message was from her head of security. Just four words.
Moka knows. She's coming.
The text message glowed on the screen for three seconds before Aeri set the phone face-down on the nightstand.
"Moka's coming."
Your body, still loose with the aftermath of what you'd just done, tightened. Muscles coiling. The haze of satisfaction receding like fog burned off by morning sun. "Now?"
"Security says she's already in the elevator." Aeri sat up, the sheet pooling around her waist. Her breasts swayed with the movement, still flushed from your earlier attentions. "She must have tracked my phone. Or bribed someone at the front desk. My daughter has always been resourceful when she wants to be spiteful."
You pushed yourself upright, reaching for your pants. "Should I—"
"Don't." Aeri's hand landed on your wrist, fingers curling with surprising strength. "Don't get dressed. Don't hide. Don't give her the satisfaction of thinking you're ashamed."
"Aeri—"
"She humiliated you. In public. In front of her friends. She turned you into a joke." Aeri's eyes, still soft from sex, hardened into something colder. Something calculated. "I think it's time my daughter learned what happens when you throw away something precious. Someone else picks it up."
The suite's front door slammed open before you could respond.
Moka Nakamura stormed into the penthouse like a hurricane in designer heels. Her Valentino dress was wrinkled—unusual for her—and her hair, normally immaculate, had escaped its careful arrangement in wild tendrils around her face. Her dark eyes swept the room, cataloging the scene with the precision of someone who'd been imagining worst-case scenarios for the entire drive over.
The rumpled sheets. The discarded clothing. The unmistakable scent of sex hanging heavy in the air.
And her mother, naked beneath a hastily-drawn sheet, sitting beside the man Moka had dumped three weeks ago.
"What the fuck." Moka's voice came out as a whisper. Then, louder: "What the actual fuck."
"Darling." Aeri's tone dripped honey and venom in equal measure. "I see you've forgotten how to knock."
"You're—he's—" Moka's manicured finger swung between you and her mother like a metronome gone haywire. "You're fucking my ex-boyfriend. My mother is fucking my ex-boyfriend. In a hotel room. At—" she checked her phone with shaking hands— "four in the goddamn morning."
"Technically, he's not your anything anymore." Aeri adjusted the sheet, making absolutely no effort to hide the hickeys blooming along her collarbone. "You made that abundantly clear when you called him a freak and told everyone you knew about his body. Speaking of which—" She turned to you, her expression shifting from cold dismissal to warm appreciation. "Chloe, Sarah, and Jenna know, don't they? About your cock?"
Your jaw tightened at the memory. "They know."
"Good. Then when Moka tells them about this—and she will, because my daughter has never been able to keep her mouth shut—they'll understand exactly what she threw away." Aeri's hand found your thigh beneath the sheet, her touch possessive. "And exactly what I gained."
"You're disgusting." Tears welled in Moka's eyes, smearing her carefully-applied mascara. "You're my mother. You're supposed to—you're not supposed to—"
"To what? Have a life? Experience pleasure? Want something for myself for the first time in fifty-one years?" Aeri's voice sharpened. "You think I don't know what you said to him? You think I don't know how you humiliated him? The fortune teller told me everything, but I didn't need supernatural insight to understand what happened. You treated this man like garbage because he wasn't rich enough for your standards. Because his body didn't fit your narrow definition of acceptable. Because you're shallow and cruel and exactly like your father."
"Don't talk about Daddy like that."
"Your father was a boring man with a small cock who never made me come once in twenty-three years of marriage." Aeri's words landed like slaps. "He was a good business partner. He was a terrible lover. And you—you're his daughter in every way that matters. Status-obsessed. Judgmental. Incapable of recognizing value unless it comes wrapped in a price tag."
Moka's face contorted, tears spilling freely now. "You're a slut. You're a fucking whore. You're—"
"I'm a woman who finally found something worth keeping." Aeri's hand slid higher on your thigh. "And I'm not letting go. Not for you. Not for anyone."
The sheet rustled as Aeri shifted position, turning her body toward yours. Moka watched, frozen in the doorway, as her mother's fingers traced the outline of your cock through the thin fabric.
"Stop it," Moka choked out. "Stop touching him."
"Or what? You'll call your friends? Tell them your mother is a whore? Go ahead." Aeri's hand closed around you, and despite everything—despite the tension crackling through the room, despite Moka's horrified stare—your body responded. "They already think you're a fool for letting him go. What's one more scandal in the Nakamura family?"
"Mom, please—"
"Don't beg. It's unbecoming." Aeri leaned down, her lips brushing against your ear. "She doesn't deserve to watch. But I think we should let her. I think we should show her exactly what she gave up."
"Aeri—" Your voice came out rough. "Are you sure about this?"
"Never been more sure of anything." She pressed a kiss to your jaw, then lower, trailing her mouth down your neck, your chest. "Let me worship you. Let me show my ungrateful daughter what a real woman does with a gift like yours."
Moka made a strangled sound. "I'm still standing right here."
"Then sit down." Aeri didn't look up. She was working her way lower now, her lips tracing the line of your hip bone. "Sit down and watch. Or leave. I don't care which. But if you stay, keep your mouth shut. You lost the right to have opinions about this man the moment you called him a freak."
"You told me it hurt—" Moka's voice cracked. "I told you it was too big, and you—"
"You told everyone. You made him a laughingstock. And now you're crying because someone else wants what you threw away?" Aeri's fingers curled around the sheet, pulling it away from your body inch by inch. "That's not regret, Moka. That's entitlement. You don't want him back. You just don't want anyone else to have him."
The sheet fell away. Your cock, already half-hard from Aeri's attention, lay thick against your stomach. Twelve inches of rigid flesh, the head flushed and beginning to swell, veins tracing the length of the shaft like rivers on a map.
Moka's breath caught. Her eyes, still wet with tears, fixed on you with something that wasn't quite horror anymore. Something more complicated.
"There it is," Aeri murmured, her hand wrapping around your base. Even her long fingers couldn't fully encircle you. "Magnificent. And you—you called this a freak's cock. You told your friends it was abnormal. You tried to stuff this masterpiece into your tight little pussy without any preparation and blamed him when it didn't fit."
"It was too big—"
"It's perfect." Aeri's tongue darted out, lapping at the bead of pre-cum gathering at your tip. "It's the most beautiful cock I've ever seen. And I've seen enough to know the difference."
"Aeri—" Your hips bucked involuntarily as her mouth closed around the head.
"Mmm." The vibration of her hum traveled through your shaft. She pulled back, a strand of saliva connecting her lower lip to your tip. "You're going to watch, Moka. You're going to stand there and watch while I do what you were too foolish to do. While I take every inch of this cock. While I show him the appreciation he deserves."
"You're sick." But Moka's voice had lost its conviction. And she wasn't moving toward the door.
"No, darling. I'm honest. There's a difference." Aeri turned back to you, her eyes dark with hunger. "Now. Where were we?"
She didn't wait for an answer. Her mouth descended on you again, taking you deeper this time. Her tongue worked the underside of your shaft, tracing the ridge of your frenulum with practiced precision. One hand cupped your balls, fingers massaging the tight sac with gentle pressure.
"Ohh—fuck—" The sound tore from your throat before you could stop it.
"That's it," Aeri murmured, pulling back just enough to speak. "Let her hear you. Let her hear what she'll never have again."
Moka made a noise somewhere between a sob and a scream. "You're supposed to be my mother. You're supposed to—to love me, not—not suck off my ex-boyfriend while I watch—"
"I do love you." Aeri's hand stroked your length in slow, deliberate pulls. "I love you enough to teach you a lesson you clearly need to learn. Actions have consequences. Cruelty has a price. And the man you mocked and discarded? He deserves better than you. He deserves me." Her tongue traced a vein along your shaft. "Now shut up and learn something."
She took you deep.
There was no warning, no gradual buildup. One moment her lips were wrapped around your head, the next she was sliding down your length with a hunger that bordered on violent. Her throat opened for you, muscles fluttering and clenching around your shaft as she took inch after inch.
"Holy shit—" Your hands fisted in the sheets. "Aeri—"
She hummed her response, and the sensation nearly undid you. Her nose pressed against your pubic bone. She'd taken all of it. Every last inch.
And she was still looking at you, her eyes watering slightly but triumphant, as if she'd just closed the most important deal of her career.
"That's not—she can't—" Moka's protest died in her throat as Aeri began to move.
Slow at first. Dragging her lips up your shaft, tongue pressed flat against the underside. Then down again, faster, harder, the wet sounds of her mouth filling the room. Schlick. Schlurp. Glrk. The obscenity of it echoed off the marble walls.
"Your mother—" you gasped, "—is incredible."
"Don't talk about her. Talk to me." Aeri pulled off with a pop, a rope of saliva connecting her lower lip to your glans. "Tell me how it feels. Tell my daughter how her mother's mouth compares to her tight little cunt."
"Better." The word came out as a groan. "So much better."
"Tell her why."
"Because you want it. You actually want it. You're not—fuck—" Your hips bucked as her tongue lashed across your frenulum. "You're not acting like you're doing me a favor."
"Because I'm not." Aeri's hand pumped your slick shaft while she spoke, her eyes never leaving yours. "I'm doing this because I want to. Because the taste of your cock on my tongue is better than any meal I've ever eaten. Because I've been starving for thirty years and you're the first real sustenance I've found."
Moka's tears had carved tracks through her foundation. "You're a whore. Both of you. You're disgusting fucking whores and I hate you—"
"Noted." Aeri's tone was utterly dismissive. Then, to you: "I think my daughter needs a better view. Sit up, darling. Let her see your face while you fuck my throat."
You pushed yourself up, your back against the headboard. From this angle, Moka could see everything—the sheen of sweat on your chest, the tension in your jaw, the way your fingers threaded through her mother's hair.
"No," Moka whispered. "Please. Don't make me watch this."
"You can leave anytime." Aeri positioned herself between your thighs, her ass in the air, her mouth hovering just above your cock. "The door's right behind you. But if you leave, you'll never know. You'll wonder for the rest of your life what it looked like when your mother gave this man everything you couldn't. Everything you wouldn't."
She took you again. Harder this time. Faster. Her throat constricted around your length as she forced herself down, gagging slightly before adjusting, relaxing, taking you even deeper. The sounds were filthier now—wet gulps and muffled chokes and the constant, rhythmic schlick of saliva.
"Fuck—Aeri—your throat—you're so fucking tight—"
Her fingernails dug into your thighs. She wanted more. She wanted all of it.
You gave it to her.
Your grip tightened in her hair, holding her head steady as you thrust up into her mouth. Her eyes widened, then fluttered half-closed. Her hands braced against your hips, not to push you away, but to pull you closer.
"Hnng—glrk—mmm—"
"Yes." You pumped into her throat, feeling the muscles spasm around your shaft. "Take it. Take all of it. This is what your daughter was too scared to do. Too selfish. Too—ahh—too fucking small-minded to appreciate."
Moka had stopped crying. She stood frozen in the doorway, her face a mask of something that wasn't quite fury anymore. Something more fractured. More honest.
"Please," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "Mom, please stop."
Aeri pulled off you long enough to gasp, "No." Then she dove back down, taking you to the root in a single, brutal motion.
You felt your orgasm building. The pressure coiling at the base of your spine. The tightening of your sac. The way Aeri's throat milked you with every swallow.
"I'm close," you warned. "Aeri—I'm going to—"
She didn't pull off. She didn't slow down. She only sucked harder, her cheeks hollowing, her tongue working the underside of your shaft with desperate intensity.
"Do it," she gasped, pulling back for just a moment. "Fill my throat. Let my daughter see what a real woman does with cum." Then her mouth was on you again, and there was no holding back.
The orgasm hit you like a freight train. Your vision whited out. Your back arched off the headboard. A guttural roar tore from your chest as your cock pulsed and spasmed and emptied down Aeri's waiting throat.
"MMMF—" She swallowed convulsively, throat working to take everything you gave her. Pulse after pulse. Rope after thick rope of cum flooding her mouth and esophagus while her daughter watched, frozen, horrified, and—if you weren't mistaken—involuntarily fascinated.
When she finally pulled back, a thin trickle of white escaped the corner of her lips. She caught it with her finger, pushing it back into her mouth with deliberate sensuality.
"Delicious," she pronounced. Then she turned to Moka, who hadn't moved, hadn't spoken, hadn't done anything except cry silent tears that tracked through her ruined makeup. "Still think he's a freak? Still think he's not worth the effort?"
Moka's voice came out strangled. "You're wearing your ring."
Aeri looked down. The platinum wedding band still circled her finger—an oversight in the heat of the moment. A relic of a marriage she'd just spent the last ten minutes verbally eviscerating.
"You're right." Her voice was calm. Almost thoughtful. "I am."
She twisted the ring off her finger. Held it up to the light. The diamond caught the glow of the bedside lamp, scattering rainbows across the rumpled sheets.
"Twenty-three years of marriage. Twenty-three years of duty and obligation and faking orgasms with a man who never bothered to learn my body." Her fingers tightened around the ring. "I kept this on because I thought it meant something. Loyalty. Commitment. And what did I get in return? A daughter who treats people like disposable accessories. A dead husband who couldn't find my clitoris with a map and a flashlight."
"Don't—" Moka started.
Aeri threw the ring.
It hit the marble floor with a sharp ping, bouncing twice before rolling to a stop at Moka's feet. The diamond glittered up at her, cold and brilliant and meaningless.
"There. Now I'm not wearing it anymore." Aeri settled back against the pillows, her naked body pressed against your side. Her hand found your spent cock, cradling it gently. "And I'm not your father's wife anymore either. I'm his. Completely. Irrevocably. I belong to this man now. To his cock. To his cum. To whatever future we build together."
"You're throwing everything away." Moka's voice cracked. "The business. The family. Everything Daddy built—"
"Your father's business was failing before I took it over. Your father's 'legacy' is a string of mediocre quarterly reports and a daughter who inherited his worst qualities." Aeri's fingers traced lazy circles on your hip. "I'm not throwing anything away. I'm finally investing in something that actually matters."
"A man you've known for three weeks?"
"A man who makes me feel more alive in three hours than your father managed in three decades. A man who's worth more than every business deal I've ever closed. A man you were too stupid to value."
Moka's gaze dropped to the ring at her feet. She didn't pick it up.
"If you walk out that door," Aeri continued, "you're still my daughter. I'll still love you. But I won't apologize for this. I won't apologize for him. And I won't pretend to be sorry that I finally found something that fills the hole your father left in my life—and in my bed."
The silence stretched. Long. Heavy. The city glittered through the windows, indifferent to the family imploding inside the penthouse.
"Fine." Moka's voice was barely audible. "Fine. Keep him. Keep your pet freak with his monster cock. See if I care."
She turned on her heel—and nearly collided with someone in the doorway.
A woman. Tall, slim-hipped, with sharp cheekbones and amused eyes. Her dress was silk, her jewelry understated but expensive, her posture radiating the kind of casual confidence that came from growing up with money.
Minjeong.
Moka's oldest friend. And, apparently, her betrayer.
"Moka." Minjeong's voice was rich and dark, like expensive coffee. "You left your location on. I figured you might need backup."
"What are you doing here?"
"Honestly? I came to see if the rumors were true." Minjeong's gaze swept the room, taking in the scene with clinical appreciation. The discarded clothing. The rumpled sheets. Aeri Nakumura, naked and unashamed in the bed. And you, your massive cock still glistening with saliva, displayed for everyone to see. "And oh my god, they're true. You really are fucking your daughter's sloppy seconds."
"Get out, Minjeong." Moka's voice had turned ragged. "This is family business."
"Family business." Minjeong snorted. "Is that what we're calling it? Because from where I'm standing, it looks more like you walked in on your mother giving the blowjob of the century to the guy you dumped, and now you're throwing a tantrum about it."
"It's not—you don't understand—"
"No, I understand perfectly." Minjeong stepped past Moka, her heels clicking against the marble. "You told us all about this guy. Remember? At brunch. You called him a freak. Said his dick was a monster. Said trying to fuck him was like 'giving birth in reverse'—which, by the way, was a truly vile thing to say about someone you supposedly cared about."
"I didn't—that's not—"
"And then you dumped him. In public. At a restaurant where you didn't even bother to show up on time. And now here he is, with your mother, looking like he just had the best orgasm of his life." Minjeong's eyes traveled down your body with undisguised appreciation. "Honestly, Moka? You're an idiot."
"Don't call me that."
"I'll call you whatever I want. You've been a bitch to me for years, and I've put up with it because your mom's money was good for business. But this?" Minjeong gestured at you, at Aeri, at the whole room. "This is a new level of stupid, even for you. You had a man with a twelve-inch cock who apparently knows how to use it, and you threw him away because he wasn't rich enough? Because his dick was too big? Do you have any idea how many women would kill for that problem?"
Moka's face had gone white. "You work for my mother's company. You're supposed to be on my side."
"I was never on your side. I was on your mother's payroll. There's a difference." Minjeong reached the foot of the bed, her eyes still fixed on your cock. "And speaking of your mother—Aeri, darling, you look absolutely wrecked. In the best possible way."
"Minjeong." Aeri's tone was cool. "I wasn't expecting you."
"I wasn't expecting to be here. But your security team called me when Moka's phone pinged in the elevator. Thought you might want backup." Her lips curved into a smile that was equal parts professional and predatory. "Looks like you didn't need it."
"Clearly not."
"Still." Minjeong's hand came to rest on the footboard, her manicured nails tapping against the wood. "Since I'm here, I feel like I should say something. Moka—" She turned back to her former friend. "—you're a dumb bitch. You know that, right? You had this." She gestured at you, her eyes lingering on your cock. "This. And you threw it away. And now you're crying because someone else picked it up. That's not tragedy. That's natural selection."
"Fuck you, Minjeong."
"No thanks. I don't think you could handle me either." Minjeong's smile sharpened. "But him, on the other hand—" She stepped around the bed, her gaze fixed on you. "I'd like to offer my services."
Your throat went dry. "What services?"
"Loyalty. Discretion. And whatever else you might need." Her fingers brushed against your ankle, light and teasing. "You're going to need allies, now that you're aligned with Aeri. People who understand the social landscape. People who can smooth things over, keep the whispers contained. I'm very good at containing whispers."
"And in return?"
Minjeong's smile turned positively wicked. "In return, I want exactly what Aeri's been getting. She's my boss—she gets first dibs. But I've seen what you're packing, and I'd be an idiot not to ask for a test drive."
Aeri laughed—a real laugh, surprised and genuine. "You're shameless."
"I'm practical. There's a difference." Minjeong's fingers traced higher, brushing your calf. "Besides, someone's going to have to manage the social fallout of this little family scandal. I'm offering to do it. All I want in return is a seat at the table. And maybe—" her eyes flicked down to your cock— "a taste."
Moka made a sound that was half-scream, half-sob. "You're all insane. Every single one of you. You're—you're whores and freaks and I'm going to destroy all of you. I'm going to tell everyone what happened here. The press. The business journals. Everyone."
"Go ahead." Aeri didn't even look at her. "Tell them your mother is having better sex than you ever did. Tell them you threw away a man who makes women squirt just by looking at them. See how well that plays in the society pages."
"Better yet—" Minjeong added, "—tell them you walked in on your mother deep-throating a cock twice the size of anyone you've ever been with. Make sure to include that detail. I'm sure the tabloids will love it."
Moka's face crumpled. For a moment—just a moment—she looked less like a spiteful socialite and more like a lost child. Then the mask slammed back into place, harder than before.
"I hate you," she said, her voice shaking. "I hate all of you. Mom—I hope you're happy with your freak. I hope his monster cock was worth destroying our family over."
She didn't wait for a response. She turned and fled, her heels clattering against the marble floor, and the door slammed shut behind her with a finality that echoed through the penthouse.
The silence she left behind was deafening.
Minjeong broke it first. "Well. That was dramatic."
"Understatement of the year." Aeri rubbed her temples. "She's going to be a problem."
"Of course she is. She's your daughter." Minjeong's hand was still on your calf, her fingers tracing idle patterns against your skin. "But she's also predictable. Give her a week to nurse her wounded pride, then send her a generous allowance and an invitation to some exclusive event. She'll come around. She always does."
"And if she doesn't?"
"Then she'll be a very well-dressed social pariah." Minjeong shrugged. "Either way, you've made your choice. The question is—" Her eyes fixed on you, dark and hungry. "—was it worth it?"
Aeri looked at you. At your face. Your body. Your cock, still semi-hard despite everything that had just happened. The smile that spread across her face was slow and satisfied and utterly without regret.
"Every single second." She leaned over and pressed a kiss to your shoulder. "He's worth every bridge I've burned tonight. And I've only just gotten started."
Minjeong's grin widened. "In that case—" She slid onto the foot of the bed, her silk dress rustling against the sheets. "—I believe you mentioned something about loyalty. And reward. And a taste."
Aeri raised an eyebrow. "Right now? After all that?"
"Especially after all that. Nothing gets me worked up like watching a family implosion." Minjeong's tongue darted out to wet her lips. "Besides, he's still hard. It would be a shame to let that go to waste."
Your body, exhausted as it was, stirred at her words. Aeri noticed. Of course she noticed.
"Greedy boy," she murmured, but her voice was approving. "One woman isn't enough for you?"
"One woman almost killed me," you admitted. "Two might actually finish the job."
"Then I'll make sure your gravestone says 'Died Doing What He Loved.'" Aeri's hand found your cock again, stroking you back to full hardness with practiced efficiency. "Minjeong—you can have his mouth. But the rest of him is mine. For now."
"For now." Minjeong was already crawling up the bed, her dress riding up to reveal miles of toned thigh. "I can work with that."
She positioned herself above you, her knees bracketing your head, her silk-clad pussy hovering inches from your face. The scent of her arousal was intoxicating—musky and sweet and so strong you could taste it in the air.
"Don't be gentle," she said, her voice dropping to something low and hungry. "After the night I've had, I want to feel it tomorrow."
Your hands found her hips, pulling her down onto your waiting mouth.
Above you, Aeri positioned herself over your cock, her slick heat pressing against your tip.
"Ready for round two, darling?" Her eyes glittered with something feral. "Because I'm nowhere near done with you."
She sank down onto your length in one slow, deliberate motion, and you lost yourself in the sensation of two women using your body for their pleasure while the ghost of Moka's fury still hung in the air like ozone after a lightning strike.
The city outside kept glittering. The night stretched on. And somewhere in the distance, a phone buzzed with news that Nakamura Industries was facing yet another crisis—one that its CEO had absolutely no intention of solving.
She had better things to do.
"Wait," she breathed, her voice ragged. "Wait. We're missing something."
Aeri paused mid-stroke, your cock buried to the hilt inside her. The interruption made her snarl—actually snarl—her carefully maintained composure shattered by three decades of finally-getting-what-she-wanted. "What could we possibly be missing?"
"Hmm." Minjeong slid off the bed, her silk dress falling back into place around her thighs. Damp fabric clung to her pussy, outlining the plump lips beneath. "Your daughter didn't actually leave."
The words landed like a grenade.
Aeri's inner muscles clamped around your shaft. "What?"
"Security cameras in the hallway." Minjeong crossed to the suite's tablet on the dresser, her fingers swiping across the screen with casual efficiency. "She's been standing outside the door for the past ten minutes. Crying. Listening. Too proud to come back in, too broken to walk away." She turned the screen toward the bed. The hallway feed showed Moka slumped against the wall, mascara streaking her cheeks, phone clutched in white-knuckled fingers. "Pathetic, really."
Aeri's hips rolled—an involuntary response, her cunt still stuffed full of you. "Bring her back in."
"Already planned on it."
Minjeong crossed to the door in three long strides. The silk of her dress whispered against her skin. When she pulled the door open, Moka stumbled forward, caught off-balance, nearly collapsing into the hallway.
"No—" Moka's protest died as Minjeong's hand closed around her wrist.
"Yes." Minjeong yanked her inside. The door slammed shut. "You don't get to run away from this. You don't get to cry in the hallway and pretend you're the victim. You started this, Moka. You humiliated him. You called him a freak. And now—" She dragged Moka toward the foot of the bed, positioning her with a view of everything. "—now you're going to watch what happens when a real woman appreciates what she has."
"Let go of me—"
"No."
Minjeong's fingers found Moka's face. Her thumbs pressed against the delicate skin beneath Moka's eyes, forcing the lids open. Moka thrashed, but Minjeong was stronger—taller, leaner, fueled by years of resentment disguised as friendship.
"Keep your eyes open," Minjeong murmured, her lips brushing Moka's ear. "If you close them, I'll tape them open. And I'll make sure everyone at the club knows about it. Chloe. Sarah. Jenna. Everyone."
Moka's struggles weakened. Her chest heaved with panicked breaths. But her eyes—dark, wet, rimmed with smeared mascara—stayed open.
"Good girl." Minjeong's voice dripped with mock tenderness. "Now watch."
On the bed, Aeri hadn't moved. She was still impaled on your cock, her pussy gripping you like a fist, her eyes fixed on her daughter with an expression that held no shame. Only hunger.
"You hear that, darling?" Aeri's hips began to move—slow, grinding circles that made your shaft drag against her inner walls. "Minjeong's going to make sure she sees everything. Every stroke. Every moan. Every face you make me make."
"Aeri—" Your voice came out strangled. The dual sensation—her wet heat clenching around you, the sight of Moka being force-fed her own humiliation—was almost too much.
"Shh." She placed a finger against your lips. "Let me give my daughter an education."
Then she began to ride you in earnest.
Her hips rose and fell with the practiced rhythm of a woman who'd spent decades learning what her body needed. Her cunt made obscene, sucking sounds as it gripped your length—squelch, schlick, splortch—each downward stroke forcing a gasp from her throat. Her breasts bounced with the motion, nipples dark and pebbled, sweat gleaming in the valley between them.
"Look at me, Moka." Aeri's voice was strained but commanding. "Look at your mother while she takes this cock. The cock you were too scared to handle. The cock you mocked. The cock that's—ahh—that's splitting me open and making me feel more alive than I've felt in thirty fucking years."
Minjeong's fingers pressed harder against Moka's eyelids. Moka whimpered, but her gaze stayed fixed on the bed.
"See that?" Minjeong's tongue traced the shell of Moka's ear. "See how your mother's pussy is swallowing him whole? That's what happens when you're not a tight, selfish cunt who only thinks about herself. That's what happens when you actually want to please someone."
"Please—" Moka's voice cracked. "Please stop—"
"We're just getting started."
On the bed, Aeri's rhythm intensified. She planted her hands on your chest, using the leverage to bounce harder, faster. The slap of her ass against your thighs echoed through the suite—thwap, thwap, thwap—punctuated by the wet, sucking sounds of her pussy gripping your shaft.
"Fuck—fuck—you're so deep—" Her head fell back, throat exposed, a flush spreading from her chest to her cheeks. "I can feel you in my stomach. I can feel you everywhere. My husband—oh god—my husband never reached this deep. He never—hng—never made me feel this full—"
"Tell her more." Minjeong's fingers tightened on Moka's face. "Tell your daughter what her father couldn't do."
Aeri's eyes snapped open, finding Moka's. The eye contact was electric—mother and daughter locked in a gaze that held decades of resentment and disappointment and something darker. Something that looked almost like triumph.
"Your father," Aeri panted, still bouncing on your cock, "had a small, useless prick. Two inches. Maybe three. He'd pump for thirty seconds, roll off, and ask if I came. Every time. Twenty-three years of that. Twenty-three years of faking orgasms while he grunted like a dying animal and left me aching for something—anything—that would actually satisfy me."
"Stop—"
"And now—oh fuck—now I have this." Aeri's cunt clenched around you, muscles rippling. "A real cock. A cock that fills me. A cock that makes me squirt. A cock that's going to put a baby in me while my ungrateful daughter watches."
The words hit Moka like a physical blow. Her body sagged in Minjeong's grip, her struggles finally ceasing. The tears kept falling, but something in her expression had shifted. Shattered. Reassembled into something smaller.
"There it is," Minjeong murmured. "That's acceptance. That's understanding. You're nothing now, Moka. You're just a spectator. A witness to your mother's reclamation."
Aeri's rhythm had become erratic—desperate, grinding thrusts that signaled her approaching orgasm. Her inner walls fluttered and clenched around your shaft, the muscles spasming with increasing frequency.
"I'm close—I'm so fucking close—" Her nails raked down your chest. "Look at me, Moka. Look at my face while he makes me come. Look at what—ah—what you could have had if you weren't such a—hnng—such a spoiled, selfish bitch—"
The orgasm hit her like a tidal wave.
Aeri's mouth stretched open—a silent scream that became a guttural, animalistic cry. Her eyes rolled back, showing white. Her tongue lolled out, saliva dripping down her chin. Her face contorted into something unrecognizable—not the composed CEO, not the dignified matriarch, but a woman utterly undone by pleasure.
"HNGHH—FUUUCK—YESSS—"
Her cunt convulsed around your shaft, gripping and releasing in rhythmic spasms. Fluid gushed from her—splashing against your thighs, soaking the sheets, dripping down onto the mattress with wet splortches. The squirt kept coming, pulse after pulse, as her body surrendered completely to the orgasm.
"See that face?" Minjeong's voice was thick with arousal. "See that? Your mother's never made that face before. Not for your father. Not for any man. Only for him. Only for the cock you threw away."
Moka made a sound—something between a sob and a whimper. Her body trembled in Minjeong's grip, but her eyes stayed open. Fixed on her mother's ruined expression.
Aeri collapsed forward, her forehead pressing against your chest, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Her pussy still fluttered around you, aftershocks rippling through her walls. "Oh god. Oh god. I've never—that was—"
"Not done," Minjeong finished. "We're not done. He hasn't come yet. And your daughter hasn't seen enough."
Aeri lifted her head, her eyes glassy but sharpening. Sweat plastered her hair to her temples. Saliva still glistened on her chin. The composed CEO was gone—replaced by something feral, something hungry, something that had tasted satisfaction and wanted more.
"You're right." Her voice was hoarse. "He hasn't come. And I made a promise." She looked down at you, her lips curving into a smile that was equal parts adoration and depravity. "I told you to fill me with your babies. I meant it. Every word."
"Aeri—"
"Don't argue. Don't think." She pushed herself upright, still impaled on your cock, and began to move again. Slower this time. More deliberate. Her oversensitive walls clenched around you with every stroke. "Just fuck me. Fuck me until you come. Fill my womb. Let my daughter watch while you breed me."
Minjeong's fingers were still pressed against Moka's eyelids. "You hear that? He's going to come inside your mother. He's going to pump her full of cum. And you—you're going to watch every second of it."
"Please—" Moka's voice was barely audible. "I can't—I can't watch this—"
"You can. And you will."
Aeri's rhythm quickened again, despite her oversensitivity. Her face contorted with the mixture of pleasure and discomfort that came from being fucked through hypersensitivity. But she didn't stop. She didn't slow down. She rode you harder, her inner walls gripping and fluttering, her breath coming in sharp gasps.
"Come for me. Please. I need it. I need to feel you pulse inside me. I need to feel your cum flooding my womb. I need—ahn—I need you to make me yours. Completely. Irrevocably. Let my daughter see what happens when a man claims a woman who actually wants him."
The pressure in your balls tightened. The base of your spine tingled. Every muscle in your body coiled, preparing for release.
"Look at her eyes, Moka." Minjeong's voice was a hiss. "Look at how much she wants it. Look at how much she loves this cock. This is what desire looks like. This is what passion looks like. Not your cold, transactional bullshit. Not your judgment. This."
Aeri slammed down onto your cock one final time, burying you to the hilt, and the sensation pushed you over the edge.
"FUCK—"
Your orgasm erupted like a dam breaking. Pulse after pulse of hot cum flooded into Aeri's waiting cunt, painting her inner walls, filling her exactly as she'd begged for. Your hips bucked involuntarily, driving deeper, pumping every last drop into her clutching, milking pussy.
"YESSS—I CAN FEEL IT—SO WARM—SO MUCH—" Aeri's head fell back, her mouth open in ecstasy, her body shuddering with the aftershocks of her own spent orgasm. "Fill me—fill me—don't stop—hnngh—give me everything—"
The suite fell silent except for the wet, squelching sounds of Aeri's cum-filled pussy still clenching around your shaft, and the ragged breathing of four people suspended in the aftermath of something irreversible.
Minjeong released Moka's eyelids. Her fingers left red marks on the delicate skin.
"There," Minjeong said, her voice soft and satisfied. "Now you've seen it. Now you know. Your mother belongs to him now. Her pussy. Her womb. Her future. All his." She turned Moka's face toward her own, forcing eye contact. "And you? You're nothing but the fool who let him go."
Moka's legs gave out.
She crumpled to the floor at the foot of the bed, her designer dress pooling around her like a deflated balloon. Her makeup was ruined. Her eyes were hollow. And somewhere in the silence that followed, the faint sound of her whimpering blended with the soft, wet drip of cum leaking from her mother's still-spasming cunt onto the ruined sheets below.
The months after your enlistment passed in a blur of adjustment and longing. Basic training was grueling, early mornings, endless drills, the strict hierarchy that left little room for personal thoughts. Letters from Seoyeon became your lifeline: handwritten pages filled with updates about her MFA program in Seoul, the late-night writing workshops that inspired her, the small apartment she rented near campus, and how she missed your cooking and the way you’d hold her at night. She sent photos of her smiling with new friends, but you could read the quiet loneliness in her eyes. You wrote back whenever you could, telling her about the friendships forged in your unit, the pride you felt pushing through the physical challenges, and how counting the days until your first leave kept you going. Phone calls were rare and short, but every “I love you” carried the weight of years of shared history.
Seoyeon threw herself into her studies, producing short stories that drew on your childhood memories and university days. You advanced in training, earning small privileges through diligence. The distance tested you both, but the foundation you had built, childhood friendship, university love, that passionate last night together, held strong. Letters grew more intimate, with her describing how she touched herself thinking of you, and you admitting the same during lonely nights in the barracks.
Your first military leave finally arrived after several months, a precious week of freedom. You took the earliest train from your base, heart pounding as you arrived in Seoul. Seoyeon waited at the station, looking even more beautiful than in your memories: her hair longer, a soft sweater hugging her curves, eyes lighting up the moment she saw you in uniform. She ran into your arms, burying her face in your chest as you lifted her off the ground, spinning her gently.
“Hyun-woo… you’re here,” she whispered, voice cracking with emotion. You kissed her right there on the platform, soft at first, then deeper, tasting the salt of happy tears. The world faded; it was just the two of you again.
You spent the first day in Seoul simply being together. She showed you her tiny apartment, where you made love slowly on her bed, rediscovering each other’s bodies with tender touches and whispered affections. But for your reunion trip, you both agreed on something special: Jeju Island. A short flight later, you landed in paradise, black sand beaches, volcanic landscapes, and the ocean breeze that felt like freedom.
The trip was filled with soft, cute moments that healed the months apart. You rented a small hanok-style guesthouse with a view of the sea. Mornings started with breakfast in bed, fresh hallabong oranges you peeled for her, feeding each other bites between kisses. You walked hand-in-hand along the Olle trails, stopping to take silly selfies with the wind tousling her hair. At Jeongbang Waterfall, she leaned back against your chest as the mist cooled your skin, your arms wrapped around her waist. Evenings were for stargazing on the beach, wrapped in one blanket, sharing stories of your separate lives. She teased you about looking handsome in uniform; you told her how her writing voice in her letters made you fall in love all over again. You bought matching couple keychains at a market, simple shells engraved with your initials, and she blushed when you said, “So you remember me every day.”
One afternoon, the pull of desire became irresistible. You found a secluded stretch of beach near Jungmun, tucked between towering lava rocks that shielded you from prying eyes. The sun was warm, the waves gentle. Seoyeon had packed a small bag with “surprises”, a discreet bullet vibrator and a small bottle of lube, her eyes sparkling mischievously as she revealed them.
“I missed you so much,” she murmured, pulling you behind the rocks. Clothes came off quickly, scattered on a towel. Naked under the open sky, she dropped to her knees first, taking your hardening cock into her mouth with loving hunger. Her blowjob was sloppy and devoted, tongue swirling around the head before she took you deeper, humming with pleasure. You groaned, hands in her hair, the ocean breeze mixing with the wet sounds.
You laid her down on the towel, spreading her legs. She was already soaked. You teased her clit with the bullet vibrator on low, watching her arch and moan softly, biting her lip to stay quiet as tourists walked far in the distance. “Hyun-woo… please,” she begged. You slid the toy inside her, thrusting it gently while sucking on her nipples, her juices coating your fingers. She came quickly, shuddering, pussy clenching around the vibrator as waves crashed nearby.
Needing more, you positioned her on all fours, facing the rocks. You entered her from behind in one smooth thrust, her tight heat enveloping you completely. The sex was passionate and primal, your hips slapping against her ass as you fucked her deep, the vibrator now pressed against her clit. She pushed back against you, moaning your name, her breasts swaying with every thrust. The risk of being caught added thrill; you reached around to rub her clit, feeling her second orgasm rip through her walls milking your cock.
You pulled out and had her ride you, the toy forgotten as skin met skin. Her hands braced on your chest, hips rolling expertly, taking you to the hilt again and again. “I love feeling you inside me,” she gasped. The sun warmed your joined bodies as you thrust up into her, hands gripping her ass.
Later that evening, back at the guesthouse, the mood shifted to something softer and deeply romantic. You drew a bath together, washing each other with gentle hands. In bed, under the moonlight filtering through the windows, you made love slowly. You kissed every inch of her, her eyelids, neck, breasts, the curve of her hips. She wrapped her legs around you as you entered her missionary-style, eyes locked. Your thrusts were deep and unhurried, savoring the connection. “I missed this so much,” you whispered, voice thick. “You feel like home.”
Seoyeon’s hands roamed your back, pulling you closer. “Cum inside me, Hyun-woo. Fill me up.” Her walls fluttered around you as she came again, soft cries muffled against your shoulder. You followed moments later, burying yourself deep and releasing thick, warm spurts of cum into her welcoming pussy, the creampie overflowing as you stayed connected, kissing tenderly through the aftershocks.
The rest of the trip was more of the same, beach walks, fresh seafood dinners, quiet talks about the future. But the week ended too soon. You flew back to Seoul together, then parted at the station. She hugged you tightly. “Come back safe. I’ll be waiting with more stories… and more surprises.”
You returned to military training with renewed purpose, the memories fueling you through drills and nights in the barracks. Seoyeon dove back into her MFA, writing with fresh inspiration, sending you chapters that made the distance bearable. The separation continued, but your bond, forged in childhood, tested by time, and reignited in passion, only grew stronger.
a/n: for any lurkers here on tumblr still, this will be the last fic i will be posting, on this platform at least. thank you for understanding.
Like all faculty-related events, you were expecting this to be the same: mundane, an agenda on the calendar, gratifying in a way that would sell you a move up in the corporate ladder.
(This here is the kind of scenario you’ve done countless amounts of times - beaming smiles and clasping hands with all the niceties you could mask until it was over.)
That is; at least, before tonight.
A personal rule of thumb; a code, if you will: keep the alcohol consumption to a minimum, two to three drinks at best.
It’s been roughly over two and a half hours since you showed up and the gathering began, and the idea of going back to the bar for a fourth or fifth or sixth was becoming highly likely. Something easy to down - definitely not a Whiskey, but you’d wish - although there’s hardly a complaint with a draft beer.
In a sober blessing, there’s a haven with an open bar present at university occasions. Granted, the Kim-Park estate would’ve splurged a little more in owning the whole place but everyone does like to indulge their drinks from time to time.
Someone smacks your arm from behind, breaking the trance. “Hey- you’re not blanking out on me, are you?” Roh Yunah called your name a couple times but you obviously misheard; you missed the conversation that was clearly no interest in. Hence the circle of eyes are all zeroed in on you, eight pairs a piece.
Yunah arches her brows with a smile, but there’s a forced aspect within her. Always trying to push the right buttons as your senior; plus knowing when and what to say in lightening the mood. Her veneers may feel casual, but it’s unnaturally terrifying.
“Sorry,” you say, apologetic with the lift of the glass. “It’s been a long day for me, well- for all of us.” You’re lucky enough to have a few smiles returned soon after. One person sips into their red wine.
“He means well,” Yunah says on your behalf, “This one is a little timid in stepping out of his comfort zone.” A turn to the group and they all laugh, a miracle action, but maybe an in-joke that you’re secluded from. She sighs, nodding somberly. “Moka loved attending these galas. Though, I can only say so much about missing her.”
Yunah mentions it painfully slow; the tone eerie like trying to break the news to a broken child.
Everyone around you has a sympathetic shine in their eyes, humming and shaking their heads. You can’t hold yourself back in looking at each individual, feel the heartbeat in your chest thrum louder, pounding your ears. Like hearing your name would send you ages back, turns the pit in your stomach into a full on black hole.
None of these people have a single idea about Moka.
You swallow the anger down; Moka despised these events, and you want to shove Yunah to a wall making her pay.
But, you’ll take it with as much light as you can, force a smile into the next topic. The pain is still fresh despite being a little over a year - the wound still fresh at the mere mention of her name. It seeps, then stings, pooling blood over and over and over. Some days the pain is unbearable, a constant reminder of her presence enough to send the mind reeling; on other occasions, you’d wish she were still here and on separate paths.
You think to yourself: one more drink wouldn’t hurt.
It takes most of your body to sift through the crowd surrounding the bar; the heat too suffocating and the press of people enough to roll your eyes at the masks being worn currently. A quartet of guys block your pathing, oblivious. Drinking away laughs which should make you more pissed off. You try to make way with an arm, but get shoved from behind on accident.
Unfortunately, the man swivels around on edge. These kinds of people are the opposite of your liking: in preen-upped suits and with wavy combovers. The tie is neat around his neck and there’s an obvious vein popping out meaning: definitely pissed off. A few men also notice the incident - some still laughing at another joke that’s clearly unrelated.
Grad students and their prestige, on the bankroll of their parents and got a sizable trust fund in their backpocket to be set for life without the worries of student debt. Studying in degrees that probably won’t matter to them since it’ll be a nice mark of pride hung on the wall twenty to thirty years from now.
He curses you out in front of his so-called friends. You scoff at that.
“Just trying to pass through,” you’re saying, hand up in defense and clearly in the wrong. Had it been you from a year prior, a fist would probably be thrown already. Honestly, the glass in your hand needs another refill.
The guy just mocks you and sizes up to your front. It’s awfully pathetic how people have to resort to actions like these. In turn, he bumps to a girl behind him, knocking out her drink with glass shattering to the floor.
More heads look over and the guy is getting pulled by his colleagues. Servers rush in to fix the mess, picking up the shards and wiping the spilled wine. A cue for you to go on your way, getting another glass of whiskey from the bar.
The short girl with fine, embered auburn hair is weaving through the crowd as well, alone.
Like a lonely stick flowing down a winding stream.
–
Out on the terrace; fresh air, granted once the locks click in place and you’re staring out to the distance with the wind passing through your ears.
It’s quiet, and the feel of winter is still apparent in February. Most of the noise inside has been muffled into the glass, looking below from the balcony with your head to your hands. That is- until there’s a gentle clack of heels behind.
It’s the same girl from earlier, in all its whiskey brown shade. Besides only seeing her back profile, the presentation is well worth the wait, and she’s beautiful - light pools of amber in her eyes and with a defined arc to her ears. Part of her hair is tied neatly but resting neatly along her shoulders. Her dress is also another: high-collared and revealing at the collar and waist - yet focused on a stain over her thigh.
You should’ve kept your body against the concrete railing, but you move; met with knitted brows from the woman.
“Oh- I thought I was-” she stutters, taken aback. “If you’ll excuse me,” clutching the dress a lot tighter in her hand, almost concealing.
“No, I’m just here,” you say; a hand up in respect. “I was about to be on my way back inside.”
She glances over rather than giving a response, keeping her attention to her dress. You’re taking a real long look at her before common sense sets in and finally decide to look away.
Right before you were about to step away, a sigh slips out of her lips; there isn’t any offense to it, at all.
“Look- would you mind if I can try to help?” You ask, walking over as she gazes up again. Clearly, she’s confused about what’s happening at the moment.
“I appreciate it, but thank you. Really.” Her voice seems dismissive, but still bearing the casualness of it. Adding an uneasy chill down your spine.
“To be clear, I was the one at fault,” you say. “A mistake trying to get by the poor lad.” She locks eyes with you again and cocks her head. You’re not showing it, but the move forces your heart to palpitate; in the way she studies you, sending spikes to your stomach. With a deadpan like that there’s a necessity of the silence she’d be happy to fulfill.
“Most of the guys you taught way back then were usually like that, flying elbows and everything if they’re hit,” she tells you, and it’s a definite ‘oh shit’ moment that sobers you up.
It starts to click in your head piece by piece: “Wait, have we-”
The lovely woman nods, drawing a light smirk. “I can see the gears turning in your head, sir.”
“Well if you’re playing the stranger card so casually without ever mentioning my name, but that ‘sir’ wouldn’t be thrown around if it didn’t carry some substance of status, ma’am?” You say, smirking. She giggles at that.
In a stupid move, you mention your name again; hand out in hope of her reaching for it.
“I know who you are,” she replies, huffing a laugh out her nose, “Professor.” Dipping her head and flicking her fingers on her dress. Palm to palm, there’s a gentle sturdiness to it, all while being soft. You get caught spacing out - imagining how they’ll look wrapped around your-
“I’m- I’m sorry. I don’t follow?”
“You may not remember me, but I’m Park Minju. I had you for a class about five years ago.” Her words are precise, punctual. With a hint of elegance you can’t really seem to capture.
Appearance-wise, it doesn’t add up. If anything, you’re thinking back to the prior calling of secondary school around that time. Plausible. Yet she’s reasonably old enough.
“A class, yes. Maybe two. But here I am being subjected to a minor existential crisis thanks to you,” you tell her, sheepish.
Minju chuckles; there’s that same palpitation like before. You want to have that same laugh ring your ears more and more. See that sweet grin with those beautifully arched cheekbones and ears.
“If you want to get more- analytical, I suppose. Your lessons about certain philosophical topics were very, what’s the word? Enamoring.”
Here's the answer. You were thinking close around that time and hoping the math was correct. Now, you’re thinking of throwing yourself off the balcony and forget about any form of hope with this girl:
“Don’t get me wrong, I was invested in that curriculum,” you laugh, bracing a hand on the sculpted railing. “What killed it for me was the fact that most of the kids’ papers I was reviewing all had a common complaint of how much bullshit I was teaching was hidden between the lines. Can’t blame them, of course. Though it did hurt for a bit.”
“Hmm, I think it looked like it was one of those other former students earlier tonight,” she looks at the windows inside. “Who knows, maybe they saw your face and threw a fit at the fact that you were still in their life in a different path now.”
You wince. “Again, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to-”
“You should be,” Minju returns.
Oh she knows how to rub the crevices in your brain.
Following a clicked tongue: “What makes you say that?”
Minju hums; quirks a smile soon after. You nick your head before huffing a laugh, before the ice breaks even more and you’re both laughing. She meets your eyes through her pretty, dark lashes; your heart is performing backflips at this point.
You can’t get around the fact how she’s so easy on the eyes, that refined coy in the tone of her voice. It’s getting all the plots twisted in your head, and the proximity diminishes between the two of you.
All the more reason to rub your neck awkwardly; Minju looks the other way and clears her throat.
“For one, you look dashing in that dress. It’s a shame that it got a little soaked,” you say. Ghosting a hand over the opening at her waist, just above the stain. Her arm is quick to hover yours, riddled with goosebumps. It’s cold (obviously), much to the point where the outlines of Minju’s nipples are peaking through the dress; squinting won’t help your case but you’re blinking.
You sharply inhale, file the picture away from your head.
In a natural instinct, you strip your blazer off and and straighten it out. “I realize it’s practically below freezing here,” you’re telling her, tongue-ticked. The fit rests on her narrow shoulders and you’re taking a decent step back. Watching her face look confused, pulling her lips inward and accepting the gesture. Oversized was the inevitable conclusion, but at least the warmth was a plus.
“I didn’t mind, but-” Minju huffs, burying her mouth into the collar. You insist, and she accepts it, giving thanks.
The gust of wind blows a little more forcefully for a moment, pricking into the skin. You’ve definitely hit your quota for drinks - which equates to being slightly tipsy; drunk, perhaps, or delusional; shit, you’re not even sure yourself.
“Are you also here for family responsibilities, Miss Park? Or are you actually going to get some benefit in the classes you’re basically going for free?” You ask her. While it’s out of curiosity; you keep wanting to talk to her. The urge to know more grows by the second.
Minju smirks and nods. “There’s a direction for me.”
Ah, you acquiesce. She’s still an assignment you’re trying to grade.
“Something tells me you’re residing in law,” you presume.
“Actually-” she retorts with knitted brows, tongue to teeth, “-I’m more intrigued in the political science landscape.”
“Really? I didn’t think my lesson plan back then had too much of a punch in the learning experience.”
“Well it’s completely the opposite,” beams Minju, rolling her shoulders with pride. “If it weren’t that, I wouldn’t be talking about it with you.”
“Most of the girls just gave me blank stares while the guys slept through most of the rambling I did,” you breezily say whilst shaking your head.
“Talking too much was a minus, but there was a plus in other aspects,” she then says.
“Like?”
“A thorough outlook from someone that’s-” and her eyes are quick to level yours, with much more refined knowledge and with bare restraint in the attraction - enough to freeze you in place and think back to how she was giving the utmost attention sitting in your classroom, “-well, there’s no better word for it: persuasive.”
Her voice is basically seeping at the corners, low and driven and all the signs toward dangerous. She’s not gonna stop; you should consider ending the conversation while you can. Though, you don’t and stomach the cluttered air riddled within your neck.
“Well then,” you say. “I sure hope you’ve been up to par with your current works?”
Minju bites her bottom lip; widens the opening of your jacket. “Articles, reading, theses, the whole nine yards.”
“That's all you got?
You’re seeing nothing but the dark hazel pooling her irises.
Flaring your voice like that to an esteemed family member that isn’t Minju would probably get you fired, maybe. “Okay? What do you want to know?”
“It’s an open ended question I don’t have the answer for.”
She cocoons the blazer around her again, back to the concrete overlooking the estate. “The last thing I read while coming up with a case study was focused on a theory about specific decisions. Meaning how the factor of choice influences us, weighing those choices, even the impulsive ones on instinct. It’s everywhere, even on a much global scale, deliberating with other countries; the movement of products, weapons, transferring prisoners, any and every deal that’s under or hidden beneath the sun.” Minju looks at you with a hint of worry - much like the times she came during lunch break and rambled about the typical drama with her circle of friends and pressing topics that were flagged under the universal policy.
“Go on,” you tell her. “We’re just up here alone.”
“I”m conscious about what’s there to gain and lose, depending on the deal or the stake of it. Naturally, people hate to lose. There’s a basic rule left unspoken where it can be differentiated between cognitive thinking and instinct - and it’s seen in games and people with status or power, those who-” her mouth drops, cutting it off accidentally.
“Interesting,” you say.
“Besdies that, I think I’ve said too much already,” Minju replies, hiding her chin to the collar.
You don’t think you’ve said enough. Everything about her is a losing game: from her intellect to her age, and millions of statuses above you to even stand a chance. Her theory is right, thinking about an instinct of wanting her that it’s irrational to think about anything else.
“No, Minju,” you laugh, breathless, albeit impressed. “It’s amazing what you’ve done with the opportunities. I hope you tell me more down the line?”
Minju’s eyes flare up, surprised. “Sir- I’m very flattered-
It’s impossible for you to discern whether her cheeks were already in a rosy blush from the cold or from what was said just now. Her cute button nose is also mirroring the same shade - gulping down the urge to kiss that spot. You stare at her bottom lip; she nods in agreement. You could kiss that, too.
“I think I do get ahead of myself,” she then says, moving her head left and right to disregard the compliment.
“Now who told you that?” You ask.
Minju zones out, meets your gaze with a tilt. “Huh?”
“If you think you’re getting ahead of yourself, then that belief is instilled from someone else,” you say, lips pressed with crossed arms. “Out of everyone, you’re the only one that’s talked about a topic with the most interest. Why let another person determine what you can or can not express; besides, they’re stupid.”
Minju, again, shoots her eyes down to her toes, shielding her growing smirk. Suddenly, the space between you two is minimized, even when you try your best to keep the space open due to the cold, it’s definitely waking you up from the suffocating party indoors. You notice her hand skate across the concrete, resting on the balcony after a few twitches.
There’s a literal pull happening here, slowly. Until the both of you are looking out to the vast garden shrouded in darkness ahead, shoulder to shoulder; that is, when Minju faces front and is within extreme closeness of your chest, burrowing like she belongs here, shedding away skin and letting the cold wash her over. Even when the cold is already unbearable, and even so-
Past the thrums of your heartbeat ringing in your ears, you could hear Minju swallow. Sighing into your chest as if there was a hidden weight finally lifted after so long.
You don’t stop here. In fact, you don’t even consider stopping yourself at all: leaning down with a slow drag of your eyes to meet hers, gazing down those pretty features. She glances when you treat a loose strand of her hair caught by the breeze, shelf it nicely past the cuff of her ear, grazing your fingernails down her neck.
Minju tilts her head to open up the space, holding her breath from the sudden touch.
Then there’s the fuck-up: she doesn’t want this, of course she doesn’t. You pull your hand from her shoulder, draft up the apology in your mind.
“Wait. We can- just, not here.” She hushes, stepping back with a hand up, scanning through the doors because getting caught would be a shitload of trouble. The tone in her voice drastically switched from being easy and composed - to breathless and on edge.
“Minju, look- I’m sorry-” you get out, because the wrong idea’s already been shown and there’s a small hope of being able to hide it.
“No, I’m sorry. It’s not that- I’d just want-” she tries to reason it out, voice low and hesitant. She swallows the lump in her throat, breathes deep after. “We’d be better off away from people that know us, you know?”
You have a hard time processing what’s happening - probably because most of the blood isn’t going to your head and rather someplace else where the head might be useful in; with your mouth dry and on a similar wavelength to Minju. You feel your pockets again and realize the metal ridges that are typically there are in the coat she’s wearing (and lending).
“It’s dark, for one. But my car is parked in the lot behind the hall. I- I might’ve had a little too much to drink for another and- oh fuck-” you huff, shaking your head fervently. “Wait- sorry. Don’t you mean drinks? I’m afraid I’m not up to-”
Minju stops you with a hand to your chest, laughing.
“You’re not driving home, sir. That’s for sure. I mean if you had a room here at the hotel for the night?”
You’ve been sucked back to your teens, desperate for a girl that hinders your brain capacity. The good thing is: you’re sober enough to drive the few blocks back to the hotel with the room a couple floors up and there’s also the option to take the woman and fuck her into the backseat of your car.
It’s a definite psychiatric work up on your agenda.
“Okay, okay. So you want to-”
Minju grins, licking her teeth. “The number?”
“325.”
“325?” She repeats, eyes shimmering. “You head back there first. I’ll come in fifteen minutes.”
She’s quick to give back your coat with turning heels, slipping effortlessly through the glass doors. You try to track her silhouette, but watch her fade into the crowd. With her light auburn hair as the fateful magnet you can’t escape from.
–
Time seems to stretch for as long as it possibly could, dwindling your bits of hope for every second that comes to pass - waiting for someone who may not even matter to you.
Yet the hints of her scent scattered on your coat, there would be enough confirmation that the whole thing was a measly dream. It’s all stupidity from you: pressing the crease of the covers, hiding a pair of underwear beneath the nightstand; as if the walls in the room were closing in to your deteriorating psychotic episode. Maybe the couch would’ve been better rather than the edge of the bed - you don’t even know anymore at this point.
All of it could’ve been chalked up as a one-time thing - ostensibly, that would be the best possible outcome: instead of inviting a student who’s clearly years younger back into your room, not after the fact that she’s alluring in all her looks and the slip of addiction in the way she presents herself.
Minju could be the end of you - in a lot of ways than just one.
The stupid idea here you come up with: a duo of glasses set on the mini bar - your own concoction of vodka that won’t burn down the throat. Not for the reason to satiate the need of another beverage, but the thought counts. Or so you thought. You’re not in your own head in getting the girl drunk, right? There’s no pressure about it-
Your neck snaps at the light tapping at the door, three times. Quick enough to pull the door open and see Minju waiting on the other end. Legs crossed and hand resting to her side, dress unchanged; a stupid observation considering how much time’s passed. She still has your coat from earlier. Smiles at you before scanning both ends of the hallway; of course she’d rather save the thought of being caught dead in your crosshairs (let alone- your own fucking hotel room) when there might be other peers nearby.
Grinning as the short-lived greeting. “Hi,” she sighs, relieved.
“Someone seems tense,” you say, returning the grin.
Minju blinks, “So um,” the line of her shoulders loosen in a fast second. “Will you let me in?”
“Yes, oh my god. Of course, please. Come in,” you nod without a single thought, hastily shuffling your feet across the carpet beneath. Extending an arm to hold the door as she walks in, meeting her nod as she breezes past your proximity. With the door closing behind and it’s just the two of you isolated again.
She walks to the middle of the room, refined and poised. Like if the world stopped for her and the only thing you can do is to acknowledge her in that moment. Despite how dimly lit the room was, it made her even more strikingly beautiful.
You think that God himself is urging you to not court her; simply because-
Someone like you doesn't deserve that luxury.
“I made a simple drink,” you tell her, pointing to the mini bar in the corner before the lamp. “It’s vodka with some soda mixed in to ease the bitterness. Only what the hotel provided, anyway,” you stutter, as Minju notices with a few steps in that direction. To which, she takes the offering. Hiding a scowl after the sip with the glass gently set back to its original coaster.
While being the idiot that you are, you’re fidgeting your fingers and trying to keep yourself busy in the compact room: requesting your coat back, taking her bag, insisting her to accept a glass of water as the late chaser.
“Hey,” Minju’s voice cuts through your ears and it stills your heart. That steady timbre, draws your attention back to her, with every step of hers sending blood through your veins invigoratingly fast. One hand is to your shoulder, the other dancing along the tips of your fingers. “I thought you wanted to kiss me now.”
Well, she’s got you there.
Fingers intertwined and closing the distance, chest to chest. The mere want clouding your head is just enough to release the nerves and let the intrusive actions take its course. In those doe eyes filling yours; soft, pretty pink lips parted and waiting. She needs this just as much as you do.
You cup her cheek, gently. She lets the light tilt of her face invoke the message - a final say to reconsider-
And she doesn’t.
Her pupils are foggy, blown. The endless abyss beneath them is a mere pool for you to sink into. You’ve got no reasons to meet her lips, but here you are: kissing so carefully, and it’s messing you up.
That mouth is- so damming and incredibly soft; with a fucked up part of you imagining it just to your liking. Despite the size, they’re addicting to the mix of vodka and ginger ale. You start slow, keep it within the lips. She chases the sensation when you pull back, longing the press more as your nose slides on her cheek, her breasts smothering the cloth on your shirt.
Yet the way she kisses you is a theory to study - teetering the borderline of needy, and feral. Minju’s not the perfect girl you’ve drawn her up to be. Actually- it’s a kiss with such urgency as she drops her jaw lower, slips her tongue through your lips. You oblige and let her have it, tugging on your bottom lip until she’s making you bleed. In fact: no one has ever kissed you like this since you were young. It’s all confusing, for one; though it’s making you hot and the clutch in your pants even tighter.
She’s wrinkling your shirt in her fists, swaying her hips in your hands. A slip of the tongue into her mouth loosens her jaw, opens herself wider. You cup her cheek, bend the angle of her neck. The noises she’s seeping are heavenly, the mere sound of it going straight to your cock, albeit from your mouth first.
Her chest is elevated, heaving. You’re seeing what lies beyond her collarbone, the delicate skin waiting to be defiled. She draws you closer to her neck as she sighs in relief. The pulse point and space behind her ear the only thing Minju can focus on at the moment. Breathing you in; there’s a hint of white sands, a calm sage, something frothy and warm. A sweet spring interlude to a warm summer.
Minju’s knees surrender at the sudden graze of your teeth along her throat. Only to find solace in your mouth once more, pushing you to the edge of the bed. It prods the suggestion to bring her to your lap, hitch the dress up to her thigh, the fabric restricting just slightly. This is the window to stop (in which, you don’t want to); however, it’s a snap of common sense away from the addicting heat of her mouth. You swallow on air that isn’t thick with her taste.
“Wait,” you pause. It's the lifeline of your salvation, “Remind me: how old are you again?”
She stills, watches as you wipe your chin, huffing. It’s clearly one of the three questions you never ask in conversation, which explains the dirty look that’s given.
“Minju-”
“Twenty two. Not that I care, honestly.”
Your eyes roll back. No need to do the math here. The girl’s got your hands before they could retreat off her body, only hiking up more and more of her dress.
“Sir, please.”
Desperation, you conclude. It’s in the way her tone shifts from calm to this. You philosophized that there is an existence of hell, and there’s a certainty that you’ll end up there. Especially with this deity leaning over and kissing you again. Pressing into your mouth sweetly. She meets your eyes, swiping a hair from your forehead.
“Please,” and she’s saying this with lidded eyes.
And that’s all the resolve snuffed out of you.
You’re quick to cup her cheeks and kiss her harshly, with just enough desperation as her. Gasping and laughing when you flip her pretty little body on her back, crawling atop. Every bit of insanity gets worse than before when you part her thighs, push her arms over and around her head when she settles into the duvet. Tongues swiping in a duel with no victor. Your hand shoots for her waist, palm hooking her entire waist. A real live wire, unraveling; her body shivers at the brush of your knee to her thighs, flinching. Everything about her is raw and there’s nothing you can do to save yourself.
Just as you’re ruining her, Minju’s ruining your attire. Pulling and undoing the buttons of your shirt, loosening the tie. You relax and let her work for it until she can’t, pulling off the shirt and the belt to follow. Soon after, she’s trying to undo herself along with the dress.
“It’s okay,” you say, kissing a shoulder blade as she turns on her stomach. Watch her sweep the hair to reveal the nape of her neck as the zipper descends. You eventually get to the end where the metal stops above her ass. The fabric grants you more angles of her curves, where the skin is revealed even more with scattered beauty marks. Only for you to notice that she isn’t wearing a bra - but the lacy waistband that’s resting at the lowest point of her hips. “You’re beautiful,” you praise, kissing her spine as the dress gets pulled by your fingers.
The trail of kisses continues with her .
“You can tell me to stop,” you whisper. Smiling into another kiss.
Minju shoves her head into the pillows, shaking.
“I’m giving you permission to say ‘no’, baby. And I’ll listen.”
“No.”
She’s quivering from your weight. You don’t answer, nor can afford to.
“You really want this?” You then ask. A kiss to a dimple on her lower back.
“Professor-”
“Use your words, Minju.” Her back arches under you, trying to press her ass on your cock. “I need you to tell me.”
“Yes,” she sighs, though it comes as a hiss. Exhausted. “I need it- need you.”
This only makes you realize again,
You’d never think twice with her.
Minju sighs in kind when you roll her back up to see her face, clearly wrecked as you are: those puffy, pouted lips and glassy eyes; hair frazzled, and it’s not doing you any good the way she holds it up in a loose ponytail, giving that extra fringe. The strapless dress is falling at her tits, only to realize that she had nothing underneath - a fantasy that you’ve devised since meeting her outside, it’s a real fucking disservice.
In your eyes, she’s incredibly more perfect than you can theorize: light and toned, porcelain smooth skin. Makes you forget the gap in other places-
You should feel guilty about it.
Despite that, she guides your hand to her breast and makes you grip roughly. You scoff at how eager she is and it soon gets buried in your throat how lithe the feel is in your own palm. Like she’s made for you. A quick graze of her nipple to your thumb and she flinches. You try again and it’s the same jolt in her body, inhaling and makes you hiss through the teeth. The responsiveness is more sudden than the alcohol.
At this point your shirt’s off and Minju’s at your neck, nipping away and will be a real blemish to deal with the morning after. Not to worry - you wanted it. A form of physical proof that shows you let her touch the way she does, reminding you that no other girl in your life has made you feel like this. She squirms when you finally get to her collarbone, see the protrusions of bone along her skin and dance on them with your fingertips with the delicacy of a harp player. Placing a nipple between your lips which prompts her to dig into your scalp with her fingers.
Your hand slips down to her thigh and rests there, amazed with how smooth the skin at her legs really was. While there were some stray hairs along the surface, as if she’d never shave below the knee, it’s a sickening feeling that’s only deepening with no thought of calming - to claim something you’ve got no rights to.
And when your fingers stroke over the lace of her panties, they’re wet. Minju’s legs tense at the touch.
“Good?” You ask, kissing her sternum and making the way down, rubbing circles to her outer thigh and licking her waist.
“I’ll let you- y’know,” she rasps, gripping more of your hair when your hands rest at the grooves of her thigh.
Your brows knit together, unimpressed. It’s too easy to have her like this - too easy for her to give herself in such a way and a little too much. She’s been addicting since the second you met her and you start to notice how open- how willing- let alone pliable she’s trying to be. She’s serious, and it’s there. You realize that she’ll take everything so well at anything you dish out at her.
A subtle bite of her inner thigh, and she softly yelps. “Then let me ask: what do you want, Minju?”
Her legs twitch again, hand guiding back to the center.
“A lot of things,” she answers, “Really, like- oh jesus- everything, actually-”
You nibble at the fabric and she loses it even more. “Is this something you want?”
Minju does her best to keep cool, and then your nose grazes her core through the lace and you’re whispering these lovely sounds of nothingness.
“Fuck- sir, yes.”
You slide her panties off her unbelievable legs and place two fingers over her clit, which makes Minju wince at the first gentle swipe. Learning that it won’t take as much to have her whole body shuddering under you. Once you’ve got a small taste of her, you go back to the gushing heat and let her have it.
Here, you don’t recall having such a feeling like this before or in past experiences. The fact that she’s unbearably hot, her tightness corralling your fingers, leaking into the bottom of your palm. She’s got her head on the pillow when you move, slowly pumping in pace in and out of her. And it’s in the broken silence of these four walls, the sounds of slick slipping from her cunt - Minju’s covering her pretty face into the rumpled duvet and whimpering. You’re panting into her neck while your fingers continue to work her over. Then her hands are searching for a hold; to your sides, to the sheets. Her waist naturally rocks over with the digits you have inside of her, making her chase with those bucking hips.
The other remedy you give is a kiss to her pulse.
Minju glances before she looks the other way, considering that the spot you’re stroking is making her brain mush. Aside from the fact that your wrist is straining between her thighs, you ignore it - the rhythm too good with the noises she’s spilling out from her lips.
“Relax,” you croon, hand to her stomach and waiting at the hip. “Let me take care of the rest.”
Minju rasps at the strokes at that sweet spot. While part of you wants to work it through and see how riled up she can actually get - yet it doesn’t seem like she’s the patient type, noticing how close she was within a short span of minutes. Your thumb brushes her clit in circles, and that gets her whimpering at the feeling alone. You long for a look at her face, pressed tightly to the sheets and pillow. She’s helplessly clenching around your fingers that the drag is taking a toll - her back arches, with legs shaking-
Suddenly, it’s all snuffed out with a stilled gasp. You ignore the tension at your hand, push through the feeling and let the fingers press inside. Minju holds in a breath, knocking the top of her lungs - the contraction enough for you to finally see her expression: a twisted face with knitted eyes shut, bearing the impending wave of euphoria you were about to suck out of her.
Just like that:
Bliss.
Minju comes with a pitched shriek. Easing with a clutch to your shoulder and rolling her hips with the dress sifting with her body. Her thighs slam shut and her sensitive clit is light on your fingertip and responsive.
You kiss her cheek and temple and stroke her jaw. When you finally relieve her of your fingers - sticky and left in her mess, the urge to taste her is all you think about. Sucking them clean and savoring the reward: ravishing, for one, and incredible. “God, darling. You-”
Her lips press at the tent of your pants, enough to focus back on it.
“Miss.” It’s the first time you’ve addressed her that way since the party. A little out of character but worth trying, despite her steeled determination and quick hands working down the button and zipper- fingers wrapped around your growing shaft when you realize it’s going to get a whole lot worse-
Your length gets freed from the elastic and it springs right up to her pretty face. It lands on her button nose and she can’t fathom you being nearly the size of her head. Her tongue is quick to take a salivating lick underneath; swallowing on nothing (again, or- yet, at least).
As if one hand wasn’t enough, her other joins the fray - guiding you to her parting lips, resting the underside against her tongue. Minju’s eyes watch you stare her down with all the naughty things seeping through your endless pools, sliding the head past her teeth and inhales as a test. The mere wickedness of such a simple action would’ve made you bust on the spot. She has another go and brings the length down her mouth to halfway, and you’re increasingly reluctant to pull out. Yes, her tongue is fucking amazing but if you yield to that single temptation alone, there won’t be enough for when you get inside her folds and it’ll be unforgivable.
Minju tilts her head and those bedroom eyes are a true devil’s advocate, attempting to slip your tip past her scraping teeth.
“God-” It only makes you snap and grab her face with both of your hands and push your cock into her throat for a taste. You groan and laugh while sliding out and help her sit up soon after. “You’re wonderful.”
She lets her tongue flick a vein, a kiss soon after. “Hmm?” It’s an insufferable tease.
“I would’ve came if you kept doing that.” You then say, cupping her jaw.
Minju smirks back in satisfaction, and it’s all a jester’s ploy. She lets her face fall one side again with gleaming eyes - confident, arrogant. Like a brat.
You play kindly and tilt down to kiss her. All of that gaudy assurance disappears when she’s reciprocating and moaning down your mouth. Tangling your fingers to her scalp, take that makeshift ponytail and have a hold for yourself and feel her locks spill over the digits. She’s quick to lay back while you discard your lower garments, Minju slipping out of her panties. Your knee presses her center, smearing. The feel of your cock to her inner thigh makes you leak slightly.
Her smile goes lazy when your tip meets her folds, in a testy observance.
“Shit,” you say, groaning. Minju’s barely listening and too fixated at her center. “Fucking christ.”
“Yeah?” and those damn bedroom eyes of hers aren’t doing her any favors.
“Left condoms.” You’re stupidly speaking because it’s something you didn’t consider for years. And it wasn’t like you did this often, anyway.
Minju pouts her lips, still with trained eyes. “It’s okay,” she whispers. Her fucking hips are rolling her cunt on the head of your cock.
“You sure? What about the pill, at least-” it’s a precaution, not much for her hand wrapped to your shaft and guiding you still.
“Mhm,” she hums, eager. “I’ll be fine.”
“I’m just- considerate.” You’re barely registering the fact about ruining her and the chance to fuck her with no safeguards.
“It’s fine.” She says firmly. It comes off as on edge, annoyance- probably impatient. You take her word for it and go along the way. Kissing her forehead and temple; feel Minju’s breath hitch when the press is made - lining up with no issue and blanking out for a second.
Minju, from your many conclusions, is: unbelievably-fucking-tight. You don’t see any reason to escape from it, how the slick heat surrounds your length, better than anything you’ve ever felt or experienced. It stills you for a moment, drawing these breaths which should be easy, cupping her head and holding her close. She’s sighing again, eyes shut. Might be a while for her as well. You drag an inch back and hear a shuddered exhale. Which prompts another inch retracted for good measure, and push back in - then another, slowly, this will make you insane. One more thrust siphons a noise from the bottom of her throat; something raw, and cardinally present.
(She’s everything you’ve wanted - what you didn’t know was needed until you had her.)
The both of you stay like that, rucking hips and zeroing on each other’s breaths. Until Minju’s dispelled to these semi-hearty sighs - uncrinkling her brows and slacked in pleasure. Her ankle digs to your thigh, a rescue rope of sorts, for you to focus all the way and bottom her out.
Then her mouth forms an ‘oh’. She shakes.
In the midst of the building pressure, you’re asking: “How’s that? Okay? Good?” Combing her hair to see her face better; another thrust passing through her and she leans to your palm.
Minju’s nodding, maybe the only thing she can possibly do at the moment. Her parted lips take yours with arms around the neck, hooking.
This is a snapshot in your life you want to take and keep forever, recall every sound she’s ringing in your ears, how her hair smells, the way her insides take your cock so well with passing time. Her hips meet yours in the middle, taking your pace deeper. There’s so much time to spend with her; you’d want to stay in her walls forever.
She’s insisting for more, more.
“Sir- sir. Please- fuck me-”
“I got you,” and you do.
For the first time since meeting her, you’re freely fucking into her with purpose. Every inch that’s buried in her lovely cunt makes her stifle a cry into the sheets, your shoulder, your lips, just anywhere where the noise doesn’t wake the nearby hotel guests. She’s so good on your cock it’s fucking hurting; on the up and down and the slide in and out - the mere forth and back and back and forth with much fervence.
Minju isn’t there anymore; she’s completely gone. It makes sense for her case because she’s cursing and gasping at the teeth, failing at biting down her moans. Neither of you can help it - the pleasure is good to you both.
Both of your bodies are flush, moving as one. Every tap of your cockhead inside her is like a gateway to her conscience, joining two heads together. It feels like it; all of your thoughts, claiming and devouring every corner of your brain. Minju’s pitch has raised an octave and it might let alone silence the heavens.
Your hands are holding you upright, while hers is claiming purchase to your body - like two birds fighting in the air and falling, spiraling to the ground. You take her wrists over her head, push her into the mattress more. She doesn’t even try to return the kiss, all she gives back are more moans against your mouth.
Those eyes, again. She’s looking at you like it should be terrifying. With those pools so wide and trusting, sucking you in that endless pit of lust and something more dark that would defile all followings of faith. An impossibility to bear, so you settle with her neck and just focus on how close she’s getting, banking she doesn’t even know it herself. As much as you want to keep pounding her for more than a couple seconds, you’re more desperate to watch her crumble beneath you. Rock your hips to hers and feel her clit rub the base - she’s clenching her teeth with eyes closed.
You keep going with a few more thrusts, as much as you can give her. Her body is basically being pushed up against the mattress and only being yanked back to your cock, meeting her forehead as her orgasm sends tremors to her entire body. Her cunt clenches around you, locking her ankles to your legs.
Checkmate.
She’s holding you to the edge - cumming inside with no escape, leaving ropes to her cervix. The quiet room filled with loud gasps and huffs that will surely have noise complaints later, softening to whimpers.
You collapse on top of Minju, with enough room for her to breathe. Catching your own while your vision comes to. Curse the vertigo, but what good would that bring if it weren’t for the release. She’s shivering to your chest, and every exhale is another shudder of a clattering teeth. You kiss her cheek, then stroke her hair, thumb her hips for a job well done - adoring, in reverence. The mere thought of guilt doesn’t creep in right away, but it will eventually. Right now, all you want is to be close to her.
Minju hums to get your attention, something content or exhausted, massaging your hair and moving a few stray hairs on your forehead. Completely ignoring the fact that you’re still hard inside of her and she smiles with a bump to her button nose. You don’t acknowledge the lurch your heart gives from the look she’s exuberating, ridding the cobwebs and dust - beating proudly as if to say that “this soul still has some life here”.
In reluctance, you eventually pull out of her - and the both of you wince at the loss. You move up the duvet to where you both are within the proximity of the sheet draping over. Her exhales are your inhales, and it’s the same the other way; to the point where the air is shared. Minju traces a finger to your face, thumbing wrinkles that would’ve faded at her touch alone - from your forehead, to the defined cheekbones, that jaw. It’s a gentle touch you’ve had in a long while.
What feels abrupt to an eternity, Minju huffs and sits up slowly, buckling her elbow and coughing. You’re rubbing a shoulder and bridging an arm to hers. “Why not stay?” You ask, seeing her tilt her chin at the question. “I can order us something in the morning,” she listens as you add. “On me. Whatever you’re craving.”
She smirks - it’s pretty, genuine. That flash of teeth is a sunrise of its own in the long night. Then it switches to something more solemn, not too regretful - you settle for wistful.
“As much as I want to, I can’t. Really, I’d take up the offer,” Minju tells you. “I appreciate it.”
While you could feel your heart sink for a second, you nod. The disappointment weighs heavy, and even more heavier as she stands up. Only for you to notice the crimson stain left on the sheets, clearly out of place and defiling the linen.
“Min- wait. Your legs- or something. Are you okay?” You’re concerned, examining closely. She turns around once her dress is on, reaching for the ruined dress.
“Huh? Oh. I- Ugh. I should’ve said something-” she stutters, scratching her forehead.
“It’s fine. Are you- I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
Minju shakes her head in lieu of a ‘no’.
“Is that normal? For you?”
You see her jaw flex, shrugging. She’s pulling the dress up to her waist. “I mean, it just sort of happened-”
Half right she is. It still leaves you confused, and then the notion hits you like a bullet.
“Hang on-” your heart quivers, anxious. “You actually never-”
No answer.
“Really. You’re kidding me.” Both of you know what the conclusion is. “Are-”
Her eyes roll and nostrils flare. “The answer is yes. Now is it going to be that big of a deal for you? Or can we move on?” She doesn’t flinch at your connecting dots. You’re staring down the smirking girl in a small shock regardless.
(Here: you don’t actually say it, but the implication was there - she is, or, was, in fact, a little over an hour ago, but there’s no need to go over the details, again.)
Instead your face is between your palms and the guilt could not have spilled over any quickly. Yeah. You’re definitely gonna live with that for the rest of your life, it seems.
“Minju- you- I think a heads up would’ve been nice. At least tell me before-” you sigh and there’s no point in thinking what could’ve been done differently. Which begs the questions: would you have really stopped? What would you do if she had told you? Spare her a little more care? Not be as rough? Let alone the fact you went all the way-
“Listen. Don’t make yourself the bad guy here,” relents Minju, sitting at the desk and beginning to straighten her hair and touch up her lipstick. Looking back over her shoulder, “I wanted it. And, it was good. Simple.”
“Alright, but look if your first time is going to be somewhat memorable, it should’ve been different,” you sigh, buttoning up your shirt and cuffs before the necktie gets thrown around the collar. “Christ. Who am I even kidding? I was gonna have you in the back of my car if you hadn’t suggested-” and you’re rambling; everything about the plot is so fucked for you while she appears to be completely fine.
She chuckles; almost in a mocking form. “Did I give any expression that said ‘i didn’t want you to fuck me?’”
You’ve got your tongue in teeth. It’s unfair for her to be this cruel.
“Well-” and there’s this quick exasperation of disbelief with a dropping hand, “No, you didn’t. That being said, I still-”
You watch her walk over to the mattress and lean on your hip, not exactly straddling but still doing enough to keep you dumbstruck and keep your words stuck in the throat as she kisses you earnestly on the cheek, nodding in kind. “Be a dear and zip me back up.” She shifts her head and sweeps a few hairs, then taps your jaw a few times while she turns around.
Naturally, she’s got all of her hair to the front which reveals her upper back, and you can’t help but wonder how good it’ll look riddled with bruises and bite marks. But that’s just the lust part of your brain doing that while the other is in figurative zombie mode and almost sleepwalker-like - not to mention the guilt and shame and possible court case looming when you finally lock it in place at the top.
Observant as she loosens herself, patting down areas of her dress to ensure they’re comfortable. She still looks untouched - albeit her flushed cheeks still present and fading, her hair wavy and more weathered compared to her straight and clean picture from earlier. You’re watching the mask she bears finally take shape - so neat and prettily like a well-tailored doll.
“Maybe a dinner would suffice,” you propose, a first suggestion to compensate for the mess you’ve gotten into. “Doesn’t have to be glamorous, even. I could just give you my number if you’d like.” The sands of time aren't playing kindly to your efforts, and the main crevice between the both of you is only getting larger.
“Phone. Give.” She commands, extending a hand. You’re patting yourself down only to realize that it was left on the floor with your trousers. Minju watches you over, probably dumbfounded at how stupid you look, but that seems to be okay with her.
You blink as she presses the screen and saves the contact after, handing it over.
“Guess this is goodbye,” she softly says to you. As if she signed her life away and seeing you stay as she goes. You ball a fist and relax, settling the urge to pull her back.
“Good night, Minju.”
You’re holding the door open as she departs with a faint smirk. It hurts you to see her leave the room - even more when she doesn’t turn back whilst down the hallway - and the door has seen the air filled with a single soul riddled in vodka, santal, and remnants of sex.
Once everything settles, you change out to a clean shirt, noticing an unfamiliar garment next to the pile of dirty clothes: a pair of lacy panties. You sigh; of course she left it here. Quick to put it away even before the thoughts creep back into your brain.
–
(When you’re between the pillows filled with her scent, you open up the new contact:
Minju P.
Her phone number is quite elegant as her name and look. You smile at that.
Which only curdles the boiling curiosity even more. A tab with ‘Minju Park Gala’ on the search bar: nothing. ‘Minju Park University event’ added with the date doesn't give you any answers either. Scrolling through a few esteemed articles where she’s credited for a few of them. It’s the same name, but there’s a referral to Minju K. P. There’s something fishy, a fact she left out (maybe on purpose but you don’t want to assume), switching out the P for a K, and vice versa.
This kicker makes you sit up: ‘Minju K. Park’. A photo is seen in the images on the webpage. She’s younger - only by a few years - sat in front of a woman in the center of the photo. The woman behind has her hand resting to her shoulder; you could feel the weight of it from the aged film alone.
You clock it from the face first before the info quote:
Minju Kim pictured with her daughter Minju Park (front) at the opening ceremony of Gillit University.
“Shit,” you exhale.
Minju Park-Kim. Kim Minju’s direct successor of the most powerful institutions in leading education, given the article and a little more scrolling to the side. Her mother’s been playing a pivotal role as her main teacher, from the looks of it.
You spot more photos and see her and the mother across multiple events, some from personal life and at work: she’s poised, a trailblazer in her own right. The catalog goes on for decades, Kim Minju’s personal trophy at the forefront of PR purposes. And her very daughter just lost her virginity in a ritzy hotel to a person who’s years ahead of her while the mother is playing headmaster a few miles away.
It should make you feel way worse than before. Yet-
You actually don’t care.
And shoot a text to her soon after.)
–
A week passes. You both settle at this dingy place that sells decent ice cream and smoothies - far away from any vicinity where your faces are a familiarity.
(Yeah, she tells you, let’s go grab something cold while the weather is nipping at our skin. That’s a great idea. You don’t really care. The ideas were spread thin as it is.)
You’ve had an initial thought of a proper dinner, one well put together with a reservation, a bottle of wine, and the bill going one way. She took her sweet time texting you back. It honestly makes you happy she’s here to go along with the date.
Everything about it goes against your daily schedule: you’re treating Minju Park-Kim to a sweet treat on a random weekday evening. For any consolation from the last time you and her were together, this was the most mundane thing that should have been done in the first place. Unlike eating each other’s faces off and fucking in the hotel room. (For her first, as well.)
Regardless of class or status, it would be kind for you to have some sort of sense to learn about the girl some more that doesn't involve railing her hips off with the legs up but- hey, she doesn’t know you found out the truth.
You order the usual: a double scoop of cookies and cream. She, on the other hand, picks out a nice cherry sorbet. It rests well on her cup and leaves a bit of red on the spoon when she places it there while it melts. See the bottom of her lip curl outward before testing a lick for good measure.
“Funny,” you breathe, smiling. “You told me that ice cream was your thing.”
Minju stabs her scoop as an offense. “Accusing me of lying?”
“Never claimed nor concluded that,” you laugh. “You just look like those workers who scrape gum underneath the lunch tables.”
“Cookies and cream. Really!? Just go freeze some oreos and save the money.”
You roll your eyes and snatch her spoon, scooping a nice chunk of yours to offer as a sample. “Have some.”
Her brows furrow, with a few wrinkles at the top of her nose.
“It’s not gonna hurt you,” you chuckle. Waving it closer to her adorable scowl, sighing. “For me.”
She then closes her eyes, parting her lips as the scoop disappears into her mouth. You catch the quick glimpse of her tongue when she gets a bit off of her top lip, licks them soon after. Tongue in cheek, nodding in approval.
“See?! What’d I say,” you drawl, taking a scoop for your own as a prize.
“It isn’t that appealing,” replies Minju. While you lean back and drop your shoulders, she takes the spoon and gets another piece for herself. Quick to grab her wrist before the scoop ever got anywhere.
“Hang on now. When did I say it’s okay to get another one from me?” Right then there’s this look on her face, with pulled lips as if she’s unimpressed while you make another scoop for her to lick of. Two mouthfuls were enough to suffice her, and you have no complaint spooning her bites across the booth. She then stops after the third, grinning with another lick of her lips.
You’ve drawn up the observation of how pretty she is looking at you like this: the small crescents in her eyes when she smiles, the gentle quirk or twitch of her eyebrow when something is tasty; her light, toffee hair down and resting loosely at the shoulders. The parlor’s small, a quick stop by train on the way to campus - much easier on the eyes, lighter, her head falls like she’s got no worries.
It’s your act of service to wipe your thumb first before leaning across to smear off the ice cream left beneath Minju’s lips. Her mouth drops before closing again where your fingertip rests on her chin, on the nice little space between. Her smirk forms as a tease and those doting eyes - too bright and inviting and blinking to snap you out of it when the second of staring lingers more than it should.
She hums in satisfaction, cocking her head the opposite side.
“I won’t be mad,” and it’s in this telling voice of assurance. “I don’t mind you touching me.”
Your eyes dart to the window, guilty as charged. Yet you don’t smile or frown, but this mixed reaction of being conflicted. “It’s not that,” you say, placing your cup down followed by clasped hands, “it’s the fact that- maybe we shouldn’t.”
Minju pauses, reading into the lines. The level of awareness for someone her age should already be developed, and props to her for noticing the cues. “Maybe,” she answers. “No, you’re right. We probably shouldn’t.”
Facetious, you’ll give her that.
Though you feel her foot on your ankle under the table and she’s just slowly moving it up and down your shin (mind you: her legs are bare, with that knee length skirt and not giving a shit about the cold weather - it should ring the alarm bells in your head but you choose to ignore it). “Actually, you’re a hundred percent right.”
You level your heads and let it sit.
On the other hand, she’s got her hand propping her chin, batting lashes with those wide eyes, with that innocent folly. The fact that Minju’s not doing anything is doing a number on you mentally - thinking that it would be easier this time being around her. There isn’t any alcohol or any bust up with the spoiled kids, nor any excuse to find an out for sleeping with a woman that’s waving all the red flags in your head. No. It’s way worse. Even with the grief and fog of alcohol not in your mind - how clear it’s become of the fact she’s gorgeous and clever; elegant and refined in the manner which she speaks, with those gentle hands and firm knees. Your thumb finds her lips again and remember the feeling of them. Plus, it’s already bad enough you’ve fantasized about her multiple times during the week, even with the missing pair of panties which she also doesn't know about.
You actually don’t notice her mouth moving, the noise blocked out between your ears. The grin she gives is actually lecherous.
“I’m sure you have a staring problem,” she tells you. A tease when she drops the ‘sir’ again to grab your attention, the syllables rolling nicely on her teeth. That same pit in your stomach forms once more and you’re clearing your throat.
“Minju, easy.” It’s a plea, to her - to be the better person between you two. You sigh and wipe your eyelids. “Don’t push it.”
“Mmm? I’m not doing anything,” she relents. God help you. Even if he could, there’s no stopping her foot rubbing your pant leg.
You look down and flinch at the screech of the chair skating across the floor. She’s startled as well, but blinks through it, indifferent to the smug she held just a second earlier. “Look, this- I don’t think it’s a good-”
“Idea?” The question Minju asks; shelves a bob at your throat. Her eyes flicker, coldly. Unimpressed. “In all fairness, you asked me. After all.”
It’s unfair - the feeling of it spilling into your mind all at once - to be so revolting at the actions you’ve committed to be in this position. You knew better (but you didn’t) and still went along with the bad idea, anyway. Playing the paradoxical confusion of not wanting to be close to her but needing her otherwise is daunting. Fearful of getting too close, too fast, dragged by her impending pull and there’s nothing more you’d want than to just submit - which, in a sense, is the right thing to do.
“You’re right. I did. And-” you solicit for her reply: no answer. To that, you sigh, “I’m ready to take you home, if you’re willing.” Instead, what she does is not say anything, standing up from the table and looking at you from up high before heading for the exit. On the way out, you’re jumbling the set of keys in your hand, following her around to the passenger side to open the door. Too bad she gets there first, quickly pulling and setting herself down with the seatbelt on and knees together. You meet on the opposite end and close the door, too.
It’s freezing, the gentle chatter of teeth is heard from her as the breaths are clouding the windows. Even with the overcoat, her legs are visible where the jacket parts. The heat gets turned up to the max, lukewarm air only making it colder. Her fingers curl over her thighs.
“Minju,” you say, hesitant. Her eyes never leave the front windshield.
Her lips part slightly, drawing a breath in. She holds it, exhaling soon after. Seems like some of the anger has grown on her, written all over her face and shown in the fist - like the color leaving from a shriveling petal. It’s oddly frightening how calm she is.
She turns to face you and stare right back. “You remember how to get back to my place right?” A simple inquiry with raised brows, lips perched where it doesn’t flex her cheeks. A completely different persona unlike the coyness personality and teasing that you were used to. Yet it all makes sense - with the surname, the royalty it comes with. She’s able to compartmentalize and slip into a skin that doesn’t have an alias or character.
–
(You find it infuriating, however.
Not because of the difference in class- no, not that. But the pieces that were slowly picked apart from a world you have no business being affiliated with. A want that’s been simmering since the second you met her.
The urge to open her up and engorge yourself of the pieces that make her raw, unadulterated.
Infuriating enough that losing someone like that is worse than any imaginable gain altogether.)
–
The car hums to life and you’re entranced by her easy eyes.
In that instant where the silence is only filled with the gentle beats of your hearts, you make a choice. Because that’s what you can do. Because now that you’ve had her, nothing else really matters. If it wasn’t for her, there wouldn’t be anything for you. The choice is apparent when you cross the center console with just enough grace to not scare her. Minju sees this, albeit blatantly obvious, but her eyebrows lift faster than her lips before she could utter a single word.
Her lips are the same as you remember them from that night. You kiss her gently, hear her softly hum into the touch. She doesn't flinch at your cold hands, cupping her cheek and get your fingers in her hair. Lips sweet as the ice cream you spoonfed minutes ago. The warmth of them makes you forget about the chilly car. It makes you forget about all of that - how deprived she’s been without you, scarfing down air in the gaps and less frantic than the first time.
Her hands form fists to your coat and she pulls. You don’t fight her when she’s off the seat, moving with a purpose that’s so endearing. Her teeth clash with yours; it doesn’t hurt but you both laugh gently at the moment. She breaks with deep breaths, labored, bumping noses. Making her way to your lap and get her feet under. You pause, pinch her unbelievable waist. Minju forces you to look at her as you scan in an obvious spot: beneath the streetlight and still in a semi-full parking lot.
You smile, and all she does is place a nice peck to your lips. “You really don’t want to do this here?” She asks, seeing your shaking head and sighing in defeat. Then stumbling back to her seat and shivering on the way down. “It’s not like they’re gonna interrogate us for being in the car.”
“A lot more serious if it’s a person with a status with someone she shouldn’t be with.”
“Where’s the fun in that?”
“You basically wanted to hop and get caught on my cock just now.”
Minju bites her lip at that. It could be the cold or pent-up tension, or both in this matter. She isn’t doing herself a favor when her hand finds its way between her legs.
“I know, I know,” you say, chuckling. “Why don’t we find somewhere else more private, okay?”
–
Neither of you say a word as you’re driving - think of it as some unspoken agreement that was arranged without saying anything. You’re just rolling along with no direction at all, hoping that the landmarks around the town will eventually lead you back to Minju’s estate.
Minju has her legs spread just slightly, making space for you. Hand to her knee. She’s tracing your knuckles on your other hand that isn’t on the wheel. She’s fidgeting. You play along and slide your hand up and up; you don’t actually see it buried beneath the coat, but the softness grazes the fingertips and the breadth of your fingers take up her whole leg.
One of her hands finds your wrist, clutching, urging you to move your hand higher. The grip on the steering wheel goes tight as she guides it to her upper thigh and the sensitive skin that resides. It’s a lot on your mind since she’s shaking at your touch. You turn at the road where it breaks into an empty parking lot, no lights hanging overhead. There’s a corner near the building and the only other car that’s in the lot seems untouched; perhaps abandoned for years, maybe. Your hand leaves her thigh and shift the car to park.
A giggle could be heard from her, following a grin. “What?”
“Really,” she breathes, sighing as your fingers splay her thigh. “A church?”
You lift your brows and she mirrors the same expression. Her gaze goes to the window and you follow.
‘Church of Latter-Day Saints’ is seen on a dimly lit sign, with a dove and cross next to the name.
You shake your head and grin. ‘Didn’t notice that. Real nice.”
“We could always look elsewhere-”
Minju chortles. She lets her head lean to the seat with her eyes on you.
“You’re inclined to take a little risk, you know. Live without rules?”
You roll your eyes at that, letting the fact about sleeping with a former student in your car simmer in your head. There would be something said about this, but instead you tap her thigh twice and nod. “Yeah, I could.”
“There’d be no saving you.”
“No, there wouldn’t be.”
She smirks at that, eyes flickering from yours to lips. And she leans in. You think she might kiss here, but she doesn’t. Her hand goes to your cheek and thumbs the skin, observing the structure so carefully before refocusing.
You lean in to fill the space where she doesn’t and she’s shedding her overcoat, letting it fall to the floor of the seat. Watch as she climbs over the console to the backseat, see her ass in the rearview, skirt riding high up her thighs and the subtle outline of her profile in the darkness. Slotting through the seats easily and turning around to face you.
Minju sees you follow after, putting your seat forward as much as possible without suffocating your chest to the wheel. You can’t move as nimbly compared to her and hell- even your bones are praying for mercy.
Slight change of plans, you just open the door and move to the backseat from outside, right next to her. Minju bites down a grin. Her heels are also discarded to the front, knees underneath where she kneels, sensing your pull and taking that warmth. She gives the same look in her eyes as before, like she knows how much you want to kiss her.
So you get your pair or lips on hers, give each other an easy chase. Opening up at the small increments; sighing, panting, gasping. The heat will make its way eventually, pulling and moving in the little space that you’ve got. You pull her to your lap without leaving her lips, finally having her thighs pressing her properly. It’s amazing how responsive she is, almost natural. For a girl like her to move up in the world with so much simplicity and no struggle - how lived in the unadulterated way she is when you’re together; weak, clumsy knees and smiling with all teeth.
You believe that everything with her is real.
Minju’s hissing down your mouth. “More, more, more-” she croons, her hips grinding hard and pulling your shirt. These nice, little hymns of want seeping at the corners. She’s got her skirt rucked around the waist. You slide a hand up her thigh, around to the curve of her ass, the other to her back and keep her from falling. Her lips break the kiss as she strips the baby blue cardigan and shirt in one clean motion - hitting her head on the ceiling but she’s laughing while you’re focusing on her sheer undershirt that barely covers her supple breasts. You could see the peaks of her nipples, leaning down to suck a nub through the clean fabric.
“God-” she whines, wounding fingers deep into your hair. She hates how good you are at this, indecisive at what she wants; hunching over your head and resting her hips, reaching down to undo the belt between your bodies. “Can’t help yourself, hm?”
You look up at her, leaving her tits wet and slimy with spit, clearly visible through the fabric. “Let me taste you.”
She bites her lips at you, holding your face. “You have to ask more politely.”
“I-” and she’s got a finger to your lips.
“Ask. Nicely.”
The gears in your head short circuit; shit. Your pride went away the second you met her on that terrace, and more of it when she walked in your hotel room.
“May I,” you ask, voice horse and tilting to her tits, biting a nipple. Minju yelps and she can’t give an answer. “Taste you, please. Ma’am.”
She takes a breath - a shaky one - gets her bottom lip to her teeth, and nods. You help her off your lap and lay her back along the backseat with the little space manageable. Her skirt gets slipped off, which left her in a pair of ruined bra and a soaked bra. She’s quick to take those off l, impatient. Your shirt is also quick to go and the clack of the belt buckle hits the floor, too. Beginning a trail of kisses down her front, each one making her shake more than the last.
You pause, get lost in the vast sequin of fine skin laid barren that you’re about to ruin. No corner of her body is left untouched by your hands and lips, blessed by the dim light that’s peeking through the sunroof and windows. From the collarbone to her subtle formation of ribs; she’s bathed in this gentle luminescence in the blue darkness, dipping a tongue to her hipbone, and Minju’s breath hitches closer to her core.
“Good? Okay?” you ask right above her clit.
“Yes,” nods Mnju. The answer itself is a hiss, a vice in her throat. When you look up to her eyes it’s a moment to genuflect: her pools spilling a darkness of want, her breasts heaving up and down. Covering her mouth with her hand and unable to look away. “Ruin me.”
While there’s a fire lit under your knee, trying to make do with the pain, it wouldn’t matter to you. When she’s looking at you with those lidded eyes, desperate for something that she can’t even find the words to. You can’t help but be adorned in grace with what’s presented to you as a gift between her thighs. Her pussy lips; so pretty and pink and well flushed; suddenly you wished for another chance to take her somewhere else where the light from above can bless her angelic offering.
You breathe against her, barely, hot and open, see the twitch at her abs. Fuck. She winces when you kiss right above her clit, well aware that she doesn’t need much. Tonge pressed flat in one, gentle swipe upward. Minju’s grip on your hair goes tight, burning your scalp. An encouragement.
“My god, fuck-” she sighs, and the sounds are a mix of being strangled and relaxed. You keep on lapping her cunt, suck in her entrance and clit - keeping the contact minimal - since you also think it would be overwhelming for her case, contrary to her dripping and soaking the leather beneath her. The taste is already addicting, you have to hold yourself back from shoving your face into her and drink her chalice. Which would be the case had she not clamp her thighs around your head, tensing and untensing; both unbearable and all forgiving with her bucking hips.
Her head is thrown back when your nose brushes her clit, biting down a finger. She’s cooing with your fingers teasing her entrance, with no resistance as you slip inside that slick.
“You’re drenched, sweetheart,” you say. Minju is definitely not going to last. With her insides like silk and her walls clenching and unclenching around your finger, her heels are fighting to stay on the seat. She can’t stay still, eyes shut, jaw hanging open. Seething as your nose rubs her clit and you’re dragging a fingertip to one side and letting the pressure sever her legs - the reflex to them being tense through all the shudders and she could only hold for so long.
“Yes, yes, yes, yes-”
That doesn’t stop you from licking her clean, even with her hand tugging you off her cunt, shakily. You praise her by kissing her inner thighs and plant a mark before moving up to her stomach, rest your palms along her waist where it stops her stuttering breaths, trying to reset, recuperate. Get her seated before moving around and cradling her head, keep her comfortable and not where any craps would form - the best you could offer in such a cramped space.
Both of your bodies are hot, and the leather is left with slick and sweat and Minju’s sweet wine, sticking to her skin. You wipe your chin with the butt of your palm and feel let the stubble capture the stray droplets. “Been wanting to do that since last time,” you tell her, placing a kiss on her forehead. “Should’ve just let me suffocate down there.”
“Shut up,” Minju tells you, curling to your chest. She’s making you want to claim what’s yours, be possessive; let all of these devilish thoughts of her seeking for another person’s warmth or sighing into a mouth that isn’t yours, hear the sounds she makes with you. It’s eating you apart on the inside - only for a second, that is - but you have her here and nobody else does.
“I could’ve gone easier,” you go on, smirking as your mouth is back on her, paying no attention to Minju’s hands fast to your waistband. Prodding you to be barren like her and if she had a little more strength from cumming so much, she might’ve ripped off your pants in that instant.
Her determination is something you have to keep getting used to.
“Minju, we don’t-”
“I know,” is all she says, biting her lip at the sight of your length resting between her legs. “But I want to.”
You nod. “Okay.”
Her blessing is all you need to take care of the rest, guiding her one hand to grasp in one place where you’re holding the other. She just smiles into your face and works you up even more as payback for a couple minutes earlier.
“I can’t believe this cock fucked my mouth up last time,” whispers Minju, just twisting the shaft and making you lose brain cells by the second. Her clumsiness is pretty much out the window, and back in control. “You’re sure you don’t want to shove this thick dick all the way down my throat? Get me real messy for it?”
“Don’t push your luck,” you groan. An idea to save for later.
Yet you don’t expect Minju to turn over, pushing herself up with shaking arms; get her palms and knees on the leather, her ass pressed to your groin. Sighing with relief and flipping her hair from one side to the other and with a peek past the shoulder - hooded eyes and everything - like she’s showing you what you have done to deserve her.
Where your palm splays and pushes her down, granting the arch. A presentation. An offering. Something that God himself had wished he let his good-hearted soul fall into temptation for at least once. It makes your eyesight dizzy: seeing her bent over in the backseat, pussy wet and wanting. But you can’t stop holding yourself back.
“Min,” you simply say, “Is this okay?”
She nods in reply, pushing her body back with a deliberate grind of her wet folds to the underside that makes her smile through the absolute fuck of it.
“There’s nothing more that I want,” she rasps as you toy her with just your tip. “Than for you to fill me up-”
“Christ.”
“-and just put me in my place like the naughty little girl you’ve made me become.”
“We don’t have any history,” you tell her. “Not even in the slightest.”
“And still.”
The head of your cock goes in - just that first inch or two - a teaser. You shake.
“I’m not saying no and neither are you.” She mutters. “Fuck.”
“Just tell me if it hurts,” you instruct, but she’s just staring at your hands having way too much fun with her hips, that waist. Your hands feel heavy; so is your cock, leaning back with her ass stuck to your thighs, dragging your length to her folds, preparing. You’re certain she could feel you throb between her legs. And once that press finally opens her up, the line of her back sinks forward. “Oh, Jesus.”
It’s way better than you remembered. God. How excruciatingly tight she was - all velvet and still gripping you vice-tight. Even the audible ‘sclick’ when you drag out for good measure, see the sheen over the ridge and veins. Minju’s holding her breath - knuckles going white as she’s gripping the door handle. It’s slow, the grace period to adjust and find your pace. Nothing more gratifying than to just ravage her ass and chase the heat - like you’d rather die here than to hurt her.
Minju lets it sit for a minute, all the way down to the base. Rolling her hips around. She moves on her own accord, bending her legs lower to take you deeper. You don’t see her face wince, but the sounds coming out of her mouth encourage you to double down the efforts. “Please- just, let me fucking- god, this fucking cock-”
She’s sighing, and then she’s moaning; you’re left in awe at the ripples her ass exhibits beneath the noir-like light coming from above. The slide back and forth, seeing your cock disappear and reappear from inside. Her hand slips from the handle, barely holding up by the elbows. Yeah, she wasn’t gonna last long from this.
Your part fills in the spots where she fails, meeting her moving hips by thrusting with a little force. Not hard. The concept of patience is so important here. Staying firm so that she can throw herself back to your groin. Her head then goes slack.
“Fuck yourself into me,” you moan in her ear, bent over and letting her have it bit by bit. “You’re so good. Feel amazing- shit-” You want to keep praising her, let that being from within compel you to tell her the things you don’t want to admit. Minju’s mouth drops low again.
“Yes, yes-” her head turns until the profile is within your vision, breath faltering. “I wanted this-
“Yeah?”
“-all fucking day. All fucking week.”
Anything would be good to hear her keep talking cock-drunk.
“Your cock- fuck. It’s so good. I just wanted you to ruin me, so badly.”
“How badly?” You kiss her mid-thrust.
She shoves down a ‘very’ right through your throat.
“That’s my good girl,” you say against her hips. Keeping the pace.
Oh, you know she loves the praise. When the attention is on her. Like the world stops for a second and acknowledge someone like her - the name, the notoriety, the status she exudes - but away from all the glittering lights and from her grooming mother, she’s riddled down to this: a wobbling head and jerking with every slide in her cunt that sends shockwaves to the rest of her body. You loop a hand to her waist, pull her up to your chest, head leaned back to your collarbone and she’s trying to find some sort of brace; ends up placing a palm on the foggy window.
Her slick back is flush with yours, her moans rising in octaves. She’s rebounding on your cock and trying her best to not buck over - her walls clamping and unclamping all the same. You pull out and give her these steady strokes, hard and deep, rocking her up with every inch she can possibly take. Minju chokes out a cough, lips to your ear, her hair spilled behind your shoulder, spilling down your neck as well. You kiss the space below the ear - get some of her sweat on your nose.
Nothing. Could be ever more gratifying than having her like this. All to yourself.
She’s got her fingers spread over the forearm at her waist, scratching. Something for you to loo over once all of this is finished. Minju’s just whimpering a river of meaningless words and tongues you can’t decipher. “Please, sir. Fuck- my pussy” for one among the few and “god, i can’t believe you- and this cock-”
“I know, I know,” you’re breathless as ever and her cunt just feels incredible.
You notice the slack in her neck and she can barely put up with the rhythm at this rate. Her whole body is putty - like she could mold with yours - as if she were a missing piece you’ve been searching for so long, all within arms reach.
It didn’t really matter about the difference in class, or what she does, who her family is, the last name - it’s just her. Her.
Minju’s dripping all over your cock that it spreads to your thighs. Taking it well and feeling the full weight of you tearing her insides. “You are- so good, it’s insane-”
You don’t relent; not now, not ever. Even as her body stills and she’s got an inhale clutched to the teeth. She’s really loose and all she can really do is take these long, deep thrusts until the balls of her eyes roll back. “Minju, this pussy.”
One more push breaks the shaking on her back, and she lurches forward. There it is again: she’s coming so far down that she’s laid flat on the backseat, helpless as everything crashes down on top of her. Through every wave and twitch and high-pitched whine that leaks out you’re certain that someone might’ve heard in the building nearby. Let it be the residing Father to discover such a sight of defilement - have you and her confess the sins you’ve committed on God’s doorstep. Besides, you’re one step closer to hell while heaven’s still a whole staircase away.
“Can’t ever get enough,” she coughs out, just barely. You keep on pounding her ass and the pressure’s getting to that point. Fighting every last bit to hold it in, till it becomes unbearable and you’re following her to that high, that sweet chase.
“Never,” you sigh. “Minju-”
You flush your hips with her ass, and cum inside her just like that.
The deep feeling never goes away, as the two of you are left shaking, with limbs tangled and sprawled on the ruined leather when you pull out. Minju’s turned to her side below you, caged by your frame and her arms are to her face. You kiss a shoulder and rub her waist, soothe the bruises and red marks left by your grip, sweeping a few hairs on her back as it’s suffocating your nose. She’s breathing, humming. A delight. “There’s no restraint from you,” she says, in disbelief. “God, that might be worrisome. I can hardly fathom how rough-”
“I try not to hurt you, love. Seriously, you’re a piece of work.” You tell her, stroking her hair. “If I really wanted it, I would’ve finished on your face.”
“You believed me when I said I was on the pill?”
“Are you not?”
Minju smirks. You don’t bother asking and focus on being wrung out in a sweat-slicked mess, sated and with the scent of sex filling the car. She shuffles a bit at your front and you just watch her over like some silent protector. That is, what you think you are, maybe.
“Well,” you breathe, kissing her hair once again. “Minju? Minju.”
She’s already fast asleep.
–
“Over here?”
“Yeah,” Minju points to the right of her, the car rolling along the street. “You can actually just stop right at the front.”
The car quietly grinds to a halt at the front of a decently looking apartment complex. Which is a bit peculiar; y’know, considering a girl with so much on her bankroll, not to mention the repeating details-
“Quaint.” you deduce, admiring the bronze glow of the streetlights above. “Not far from campus as well, too.”
“Yep,” beams Minju. “It’s a friend of mine’s so you shouldn’t have to worry.”
“Why would I worry?” You laugh. “What you do doesn’t faze me anymore.”
She just kisses you, taking in your features one last time. “You’re right. Though-”
“We should be more careful next time.”
“Yeah, that.”
You nick your head in lieu of saying ‘get on going’ and she takes the hint. “I’ll see you around, then?”
Minju dips her head from outside, blinking. “I’ll be in touch.”
She closes the door and starts to walk up the foyer.
And you just wish to be with her for a little while longer.
-
(But the question begs: how long?
How long until you have the capacity to tell her what you (already) know? When would be the next time? When you have to help clean her up and redress, take her back to a place that should be home, though it can’t since that home is tied up with a family name and a mother she can’t fight to escape from.
Despite that, you’ll rest on the fact that it was nice to play pretend. To let her pretend to be someone without status, to make bad choices, eat at a froyo spot and not tell people to sit where they sit and do what they do. To make you pretend that you’re not alone and you’ll do much better without drinking your sorrows away.
You’re not sure whether the future lead with her will be enough.
Yet the past week and a half or two, of crossing paths with Minju, you decide that-
Y/N (Male Reader) x Anna (MEOVV)
The door creaks open, and there she is—my stunning Anna, stretched out on the bed with her back arched slightly, the soft curve of her spine inviting me closer. Her skin glows under the dim lamp light, smooth and warm as I step inside and let the door click shut behind me. Without a word, I move to her, my heart pounding with that familiar rush of desire and tenderness. I climb onto the mattress, straddling her hips gently, my hands pressing into the sheets on either side of her.
Leaning down, I brush my lips against the nape of her neck, then trail soft kisses along her shoulder blades. 'I love you,' I murmur halfway through the first one, my voice husky, and she lets out a stifled moan, her body shifting beneath me. Another kiss, lower this time, right between her shoulder blades—'I love you so much'—and her moan deepens, muffled into the pillow as her fingers curl into the fabric.
I continue, my mouth exploring the gentle slope of her back, each press of my lips punctuated by those words that bind us closer. 'You're everything to me,' I whisper against her skin after the next kiss, feeling her tremble. Her moans grow breathier, a soft 'Mmm' escaping as she arches just a little more, pressing back against my weight. My hands slide up her sides, thumbs tracing the edges of her ribs, pulling her tank top up slowly to expose more of her.
'I love you,' I say again, kissing the dimples at the base of her spine, and she gasps, her hips wiggling invitingly. The room fills with our shared rhythm—kisses, confessions, those sweet, stifled sounds she makes that drive me wild. I nuzzle into her, my breath hot on her skin, ready to turn her over and lose myself in her eyes.
Anna twists beneath me, her body fluid and eager as she rolls onto her back, her eyes locking onto mine with that spark of mischief and love. I lean in, capturing her lips in a deep French kiss, our tongues dancing slow and hungry, tasting the sweetness of her mouth while my hands cradle her face. She moans into me, soft and needy, her fingers threading through my hair to pull me closer.
Breaking the kiss just enough to breathe, I trail my mouth downward, lips brushing the column of her throat before reaching the swell of her breasts. She arches up, helping me tug off her shirt and that snug Nike sports bra, letting it slide away to bare her perfect, perky tits—firm and flushed, nipples already hardening in the cool air. I give each one a quick peck, light and teasing, before latching onto the left, sucking gently like I'm drawing life from her, my tongue flicking the peak to send shivers through her. She gasps, her back bowing as pleasure ripples across her face, her hand pressing my head firmer against her skin.
I switch to the right, nursing with the same tender rhythm, feeling her heartbeat quicken under my mouth while her stifled moans fill the room again—'Oh, yes…'—her body writhing just a bit. Releasing her with a soft pop, I kiss lower, over the soft plane of her stomach, dipping my tongue into her navel and savoring the salty warmth of her skin. My hands work at the waistband of her baggy jeans, and she lifts her hips to assist, shimmying them down her legs along with her panties, kicking them aside to leave her fully exposed.
I press kisses to her inner thighs, starting from her knees and working upward, nipping lightly at the sensitive flesh as her legs part wider for me. The musky, intoxicating scent of her arousal hits me, drawing me in like a magnet—her pussy glistening, swollen with need. I can't resist; my mouth finds her clit, tongue lapping flat and firm against the slick nub, tasting her wetness that's flowing freely now, like a warm spring. She bucks against my face, her cries sharper—'Fuck, right there'—as I circle and suckle, delving lower to thrust my tongue inside her folds, drinking her in while her thighs clamp around my ears.
Five minutes pass in a haze of her flavors and sounds, her hips grinding against my eager mouth until she's trembling on the edge. I pull back reluctantly, my chin slick with her, and stand to shed my own clothes. She sits up, her hands quick and deft, unbuttoning my shirt, loosening my tie, peeling it all away until I'm bare, my cock throbbing hard and ready. Before I can move, Anna rises, her naked form pressing against me as she shoves me back onto the bed with surprising strength, her eyes dark with lust.
She climbs over me, straddling my hips, guiding my shaft to her entrance with one hand. In a single, fluid motion, she sinks down, taking me deep into her tight, soaking heat. 'God, I need this,' she breathes, starting to ride me hard—bouncing with wild abandon, her perky tits jiggling with each thrust, her pussy clenching around my length like a vice. I grip her ass, helping her slam down faster, the slap of skin on skin echoing as she grinds her clit against my base, chasing her release with frantic rolls of her hips.
Her rhythm builds, relentless and fierce, as she rides my cock with a hunger that matches my own, her pussy gripping me tight with every descent, slick walls fluttering around my length. I thrust up to meet her, driving deeper into her heat, the wet sounds of our joining filling the air—schlick, schlick—as her juices coat us both. Anna's head falls back, her dark hair cascading like a waterfall, moans spilling from her lips in a symphony of pleasure: 'Yes, harder… fuck me just like that.' Her nails dig into my chest, leaving red trails that sting in the best way, urging me on.
I can't stay passive; my hands slide up her sides, thumbs brushing the undersides of her bouncing tits before I sit up, wrapping my arms around her waist to pull her flush against me. Our mouths crash together in a messy, open-mouthed kiss, tongues tangling as I buck into her from below, feeling her clit grind against my pubic bone with each forceful pump. She breaks away to gasp against my shoulder, biting down lightly as her body shudders—close, so close. But I want more; I need to feel her in every way.
With a growl, I flip us over, pinning her beneath me without pulling out, her legs wrapping around my hips instinctively. I plunge back in, setting a punishing pace, my cock slamming into her depths over and over, hitting that spot inside her that makes her eyes roll back and her cries turn to whimpers. 'Anna… you're so fucking tight,' I groan, one hand bracing beside her head while the other kneads her breast, pinching the nipple until she arches off the bed. Sweat slicks our skin, making every slide smoother, hotter, as I angle my hips to rub her clit with my shaft on each withdrawal.
She meets my thrusts eagerly, her heels digging into my ass to pull me deeper, her pussy clenching like it's trying to milk me dry. The room spins with the intensity—bed creaking under us, her tits heaving with labored breaths, the scent of sex thick in the air. I slow for a moment, grinding deep and circular, savoring the way she trembles, then ramp up again, fucking her with long, deliberate strokes that build the pressure in my balls.
'Come for me,' I whisper hoarsely, capturing her lips once more as I feel her tightening around me, her orgasm crashing over her in waves. She screams into my mouth, body convulsing, pussy spasming wildly as she soaks my cock with her release. The sensation tips me over the edge; I bury myself to the hilt, thrusting erratically as I cum hard, flooding her with hot spurts, our mingled fluids leaking out around where we're joined.
We collapse together, panting and spent, my weight half on her as I nuzzle into her neck, pressing soft kisses to her damp skin. 'I love you,' I murmur, the words tumbling out naturally, echoed by her breathless 'I love you too' as she strokes my back. The world narrows to just us, tangled in sheets and satisfaction, the afterglow wrapping around us like a warm blanket in the quiet of our bedroom.
10.2k words | smut, suspense, psy-horror, late spooky special
━•✦•━•✦•━
There was something strange about Sooin, you'd always known it. Something… strangely unsettling.
Six months ago, you met her for the first time, when you'd just moved into that building in the heart of Gangnam and were carrying your shopping bags up to your floor. She'd entered the elevator silently, her gaze lowered, leaving you immediately captivated by her bright white hair, but puzzled by her eyes: white, just like her hair, with small pupils.
At first you thought they were contact lenses; it was the most logical thing, of course, since she didn't look like an albino. But that night, when she raised her gaze just a little to give you a soft nod, they looked very real. You seriously doubted if you'd ever seen or met anyone with eyes like that; Sooin was the first, and maybe the last. Cause who even got those eyes?
There was no conversation between you then, but you noticed that she was playing with the collar of her jacket a lot, as if she were trying to cover up her skin. To a certain extent, it didn't seem out of the ordinary to you. However, when you got out of the elevator and looked at her one last time, you witnessed something that, at the time, you attributed to fatigue:
Her reflection in the elevator mirror looked dull, slightly out of focus—maybe just fog on the glass, maybe not, so you didn't give it any further thought. Nevertheless, it was a detail that strangely stuck in your memory, and you weren't a guy who remembered many things vividly.
Now that you realized it, you remembered absolutely every encounter with her in detail. Every single one. You even remembered smells, one of the most disconcerting things about that woman.
Sooin smelled like old incense. It was easily memorable, as every time you ran into her, she gave off the same woody, worn scent. Other times, however, the smell varied. Like the time you received a package in her name—which you had read there, because she had never told you—by mistake, and you had been kind enough to take it to her yourself. That night, she smelled not only of old incense, but also of dried flowers. Although it wasn't coming from her, it was coming from inside her apartment.
That wasn't the only strange thing, but her behavior was also strange. There was nothing out of the ordinary at first glance, but it was the little details that made you think so. Like, for example, her sometimes rigid posture, or her tendency to constantly hide her neck and wrists. Not to mention her always speaking in a low, uneven tone.
And all of that was just the first two months.
That day, you had woken up unusually early, to a cloudy morning that had plunged your apartment into darkness despite all the curtains open. The rain had been the culprit; it drummed on your window until you had no choice but to open your eyes, get up, and start your routine.
You were in the kitchen, barefoot on the cold ceramic floor while you made coffee. The aroma alone got you going just a little, but with the first sip, you felt your body fill with much-needed energy to cope with the trauma of waking up outside your usual hours. Despite that, you liked the rain; you found it calming, especially on such a quiet morning. So you went to your living room window to sit right in front of it and admire the gray Gangnam district.
The sound of the raindrops falling outside kept you company for a while, as you enjoyed your coffee in silence, occasionally answering your friends' texts.
Until you heard a faint creaking from the ceiling.
You immediately raised your head. There was nothing; the sound was coming from the other side, from the floor of the apartment above. Sooin's apartment. At first, you attributed it to the wind, or maybe the building settling, but the creaking repeated itself with an irregular cadence, like the snapping of branches being broken. Was she moving some furniture? Should you be worried?
The creaking stopped. She definitely had to be moving something heavy.
Now unconcerned, you looked back at your phone.
But the same noise returned minutes later, now accompanied by a murmur, so low you thought you'd imagined it. And unlike the other creaks, this one didn't seem to be coming from the ceiling, but from your own apartment. Specifically, from the door.
Fuck it, you had to investigate what the hell was going on.
Reluctantly, you placed your cup on the fogged-up windowsill, slipped on your flip-flops, and headed for the door. The deadbolt echoed in the quiet hallway as you stepped out. Outside, the automatic lights were still on, a faint hum filling the air. There were no creaks here, but there was no trace of whatever had caused the other thing you heard.
You really didn't have to, but you felt the need to make sure, so you left your door and walked down the hallway, past the elevator. Your heart nearly leaped out of your chest when you turned the corner and saw someone coming down the stairs. Sooin was wearing, as usual, a coat that covered her knees. Her eyes were fixed on the floor, and she was carrying a bag, which she adjusted with a slow, deliberate movement when she noticed you.
"Oh, good morning," she greeted with an awkward bow, her voice low.
You stared at her for a moment, analyzing her awkward posture. Sooin knew how to maintain her elegance, but you could tell she wasn't entirely comfortable.
"I heard something upstairs, is everything okay?" you asked.
Sooin's face tensed into a smile.
"Ah, well, you know," she momentarily raised her white eyes to meet yours. "Just moving some things."
You were about to inquire further, but a faint flicker in her eyes made you blink and frown. Sooin quickly lowered her gaze again.
"I understand. Want any help?"
"No," she said softly, shaking her head. "It's cold today, isn't it?"
"Ah, yes…" You nodded somewhat distractedly, noticing a sweet scent reach your nostrils. It was that scent again. Old flowers, with a hint of wood.
"Cold and silence aren't good things," she continued, taking another step down. "Have you been handling that well since you moved here?"
"Well, I think so," you replied. "It's not like I have much choice."
"That's true. You already chose this place, and with it came the burden."
You paused.
"Uh… excuse me?"
"The burden," Sooin repeated, hiding part of her hands inside the sleeves of her coat and giving you discreet glances with her clear eyes. "I don't know if you've noticed the building isn't at full capacity. A lot of people have moved out."
"Why would that be a burden?"
"Because of the silence, I already told you. Sometimes it's too much to bear."
"Oh, yes," you nodded. "I guess it's something you have to deal with in exchange for convenience. Anyway, I have to go…"
Sooin immediately raised her head and fixed her eyes on you.
"Don't you want to stay and chat for a while?" she asked, tilting her head. "I could use some company."
"But… aren't you going anywhere?" you asked, pointing at her bag. "It looked like you were going out."
"Oh," Sooin looked down at her bag and moved it as far as possible behind her back. "Yeah, I was planning on going shopping. But I can go later."
"Well, okay," you shrugged. "But let me lock my door."
"Sure."
You quickly went to do what you said, and when you came back, you found her already waiting at the bottom of the stairs. So, together, you began walking through the building, the sound of rain as a backdrop.
And with that soft, sweet scent intensifying with each step you took. The strange thing was that it didn't seem to be coming from her. It was as if… as if it were hovering around you.
"Don't you smell that?" you asked as you went down some steps. You were heading to one of the lower floors, where there was a common room with vending machines and hot chocolate. Sooin walked with her gaze lowered as usual.
"Uh? What?" she said without raising her head.
"That," you inhaled more sharply. "It smells like a cemetery."
"That's weird," Sooin said softly. "I don't smell anything."
You frowned. Was she pulling your leg, or did you suddenly have the nose of a bloodhound? Strange… you thought. It couldn't be a coincidence; Every time you ran into her, the same thing happened. Was it her own perfume and she didn't realize it, maybe?
No, that was impossible. Just by describing the smell, she would have known what you were talking about. Unless, of course, she found it offensive that you'd said it smelled like a cemetery. That was quite possible.
Be that as it may, the thought had to take a backseat when you arrived at the apartment complex's common room. You weren't surprised it was empty, as it was still close to 6:30 in the morning. But the vending machines were still in full operation. Sooin and you went to the one that served hot chocolate and other types of coffee.
"Oh, I've never asked you, but what do you like?" you asked, standing in front of the hot chocolate machine. "You know, movies… music, I don't know."
"Well, I love reading," she said, handing you a small paper cup to refill.
You placed the cup under the dispenser so it would begin to fill slowly.
"Oh, really?" you looked at her. "That's cool. Any particular genres?"
"Do you know Li Bai?" she asked.
You thought about it for a moment. Finally, you shook your head.
"I don't think so."
"He's a Chinese poet. I really like poetry," she said. "Also philosophical stories."
"Interesting," you said, taking the paper cup filled with steaming hot chocolate and passing it to her. "I could use a recommendation."
Sooin's hand brushed against yours as she took the paper cup. Her skin was icy cold, giving you a slight start. You frowned.
"I don't know if you're into… esoteric topics," she said.
"I'm not," you admitted, taking another paper cup to fill it. "But that's why I could use a starter."
Sooin remained silent for a few seconds, sipping her hot chocolate.
"The Bardo Thodol is a bit heavy, but I feel like you'd like it," she finally said. "And if you don't like it, there's also The Arabian Nights."
Damn, she's a well-read girl, you thought. You liked reading, but you were more into fantasy and sci-fi. However, you thought you had a little general knowledge about classic literature. You'd never heard of those two.
"I'll keep that in mind," you said, with an appreciative smile.
When your cup was full of hot chocolate, you went to sit in one of the nearby plastic chairs, gesturing for Sooin to join you. Sooin sat across from you, crossing her legs gracefully, her coat opening slightly to reveal a fitted black sweater underneath. She took another sip of her hot chocolate, leaving a faint mark on the rim of the cup.
"The Arabian Nights is more accessible," she said, looking down at her feet. "Stories within stories, with kings, genies, and women who save their lives by telling them."
"And why do you like it so much?" you asked.
Sooin paused to think about it.
"I suppose it's because it evokes the power of words quite well," she said after a few seconds. "Scheherazade tells those stories to survive. She seduces with words before she uses her own body. It's… clever."
You nodded and took a sip of your hot chocolate.
"Well, I'm more into fantasy."
"Hmmm, which ones?"
From there, the conversation flowed to your favorite fantasy books, which also led to a discussion about books you had each read. Sooin, despite seeming unfriendly due to her constant habit of avoiding eye contact, was genuinely interested, asking questions that made you open up a little more, and vice versa.
Until that damn sweet, musty scent returned, hovering around you as if following your every move. You ignored it at first, but were forced to stop when it intensified.
"That smell again," you murmured, sniffing.
Sooin blinked slowly and simply stared at her small glass without replying. Then she took a long sip. You waited for her to say something, but a minute passed and she remained silent. Was she pretending, or did she really not smell anything? you wondered.
There was no way you were going to let it go this time.
"Seriously, you don't smell it?" you asked. "It's strong. Like it's coming from somewhere nearby. I noticed it in the hallway. And when I handed you the package."
Sooin slowly lowered the small glass, squeezing it a little harder than she should have before looking up at you.
"No," she finally said quietly, pausing for a long time. "Maybe it's something about the building; these places tend to have strange smells. Dampness… rotten wood. Things that accumulate."
You frowned, unconvinced by that answer.
"It's not dampness," you insisted. "It's like old jasmine or something. And I only smell it when you're near. You don't wear perfume, do you?"
Sooin tilted her head slightly and smiled a little as she shook her head.
"I don't wear anything," she replied. "It must be your imagination."
Somewhat frustrated, you stared at her in silence until she finally looked down. With the frustration, however, came something else: fascination. Her evasiveness wasn't rude, but skillful, as if she were effortlessly diverting the conversation. Which made you more intrigued than angry.
Maybe you were right and she knew it, or maybe you were just being paranoid, but at that precise moment the scent intensified. As if someone had placed a fresh sample right under your nose. However, you felt yourself getting too accusatory, and you didn't want to make her uncomfortable.
You'd have to let it go again.
"It's not my imagination," you said, your voice firmer than you'd planned. "Or maybe it is, I don't know. I don't want to sound crazy at 7 a.m."
Sooin let out an unexpected low chuckle and shook her head.
"You don't sound crazy," she said. "But let's change the subject before you start attributing it to ghosts."
You nodded, relieved that you hadn't spoiled the pleasant moment you were sharing, and took a sip of your hot chocolate. As the warmth went down your throat, the smell seemed to fade a little.
"What do you usually do in the mornings?" you asked. "Besides going shopping at 6 a.m., of course."
"Walk," she said casually. "I like to be constantly moving; it's my way of waking up. And you? It sounds like you were supposed to stay in bed late today."
You laughed.
"Today and almost every day," you admitted. "But today your 'reorganization' got me out of bed. It sounded intense for 6 a.m."
Sooin took a final sip of her hot chocolate and set the cup aside.
"Old habits die hard," she shrugged. "You didn't answer my question."
"Oh well, drinking coffee and doom-scrolling," you sighed. "Not much else. Life's pretty uninteresting when you live off passive income."
"I see…" Sooin said. "So you work from home?"
"Sort of," you nodded.
"That's great. You're privileged."
You chuckled softly.
"Well, I wouldn't say…"
"Many people can't afford to get up at the time you do every day," Sooin interrupted, looking at her empty cup. "You're privileged."
The unexpected slap of humility left you speechless. Embarrassed, you lowered your gaze and nodded.
"Yeah, I guess you're right," you finally said, and finished what was left of your hot chocolate.
Sooin stood up, again hiding the black sweater she was wearing underneath.
"Well, I have to go," she said, throwing the paper cup in a trash can. You stood up too. "Thanks for chatting with me, it was nice."
"Oh, no problem," you smiled. "Same here. See you later."
"See you later," Sooin said back, and as she was about to leave the room, she stopped to look at you with those piercing eyes. "Stop by my apartment sometime, if you want. Maybe you'd like my coffee."
You were taken aback for a second. You hadn't expected that invitation.
"Uh, yeah," you nodded. "Sounds good."
A small smile appeared on Sooin's face, a little strained but genuine.
"Great."
With that, Sooin turned around and left the way you had come in, only instead of heading for the elevator, she went the other way, towards the stairs that led to the building's exit. Everything was still quiet at that hour, so you easily heard her open the door and leave.
You went straight to your apartment, to the window where you had left your now-cold cup of coffee. You sat on the same stool and looked out at the city, turning the invitation over in your mind, but also thinking about her.
Sooin was… peculiar. Enigmatic, yes—but “weird” might’ve been more honest. Who on earth had skin as icy as hers? That brief touch between your fingers had felt like pressing against a marble statue. It wasn’t just cold, it was lifelessly cold.
You shook your head, forcing yourself not to dwell on it. Some people just were like that; one of your friends, for instance, always had cold skin to the touch. Not like he'd been in a fish freezer, but still somewhat cold. Maybe Sooin was a rare case. In every sense.
Winter was near, sure, but heating was available to everyone in the building. Did she keep her windows open all night? Did she enjoy freezing herself? The thought made you shiver, though you weren’t sure if it was from the chill or from her memory.
A notification made you glance down at your phone. Duty called.
With a heavy sigh, you stood up and headed to the office to work.
The damned creaking of Sooin moving whatever it was up there woke you up. Again. Just like it had been doing all week. Resigned, you crawled out from under the covers and sat on the edge of your bed, rubbing your eyes and letting out a long yawn. The weather had turned gray and heavy these past few days, so you weren't surprised to find snow outside as soon as you opened your blinds.
Sooin was still up there doing her thing, because the sound persisted, like an uneven weight dragging across the floor. However, the gentle snowfall that adorned the dawn had you spellbound. The flakes fell slowly outside, raising a light white veil over the tops of every building in Gangnam and every tree. Halloween had already passed, but street decorations still lay scattered everywhere, now under the damp snow.
THUMP!
The ceiling vibrated with a dull thud, making you jump and clutch your heart, which was now pounding in your chest. You froze, staring up, your hand still trembling with fright. Silence fell for a few seconds, until a new sound made you frown in confusion. A slow, damp dragging. Like heavy fabric.
And a low murmur. This time it wasn't the wind, you were sure. Indistinct words from a distorted female voice. Repeating something that sounded like… sounded like…
It sounded like your name.
Convinced it must be your imagination, you shook your head and forced yourself to react. You quickly went to your bathroom and washed your face, letting the icy water chill your pores and clear your mind a little. Then, you left your bedroom to make your morning coffee. You opened the door.
A light breeze hit your face.
And then it flooded your lungs.
The sweet aroma suddenly filled the bedroom. Strong. Now nauseating. Rotting flowers. Damp wood. A hint of compost. All around you. You felt nauseous, and immediately stumbled to your window to open the shutters, breathing in the fresh air. Naturally, a few snowflakes began to drift through your window, but you refused to move, fearing the smell would still be there.
Fortunately, when your nausea subsided and you closed the window, the smell was gone.
What… what the hell is going on? you wondered, your breath ragged. Sweat trickled down your back, despite the cold.
The dragging on the ceiling had subsided, as had the murmurs. You stood there, unsure of what to do.
Then you remembered Sooin's invitation.
The week had been hectic for you; you'd barely had time to even leave your apartment, so you and Sooin hadn't talked much, just the occasional greeting when you went out to take out the trash. She, however, had made sure to remind you that the invitation still stood. So you would go that very night, partly because you wanted to spend a little more time with her, and partly because you wanted to know what the hell that noise had been.
On the other hand, you didn't know how you were going to broach the subject of the smell and the murmurs; you risked sounding like a lunatic. Besides, you were just going to be a bore talking about the same thing over and over again. So you decided not to mention anything unless it was absolutely necessary.
Or at least, of course, unless it became unbearable.
You spent the rest of the day distracted. You had no work to do, so you could dedicate yourself entirely to leisure. It was a good thing, since you doubted your ability to concentrate after what had happened. You couldn't stop turning it over in your mind. You tried to convince yourself that Sooin was right, that it was some smell trapped in the vents. But no. No smell could be that strong. None.
Had you then bought a damn haunted apartment? It was the most absurd possibility, since you considered yourself a skeptic. But then what explanation could you find for that damn annoying smell?
Night fell, and with it, your indecision about whether or not to visit Sooin grew. Part of you wanted to go, drawn by the enigmatic, and why not say it, quite attractive way that girl was. The other part, the more overthinking part, held you back with a cautious knot in your stomach as you remembered what had happened that afternoon; you quickly ignored it, forcing yourself to be rational: Sooin might be a little odd and all, but dangerous? That sounded more like you being paranoid.
The snowfall had intensified compared to the gentle blizzard of that morning. Thick flakes clung to the windows, blurring the views outside and making the lights from the buildings opaque to your eyes. You dressed casually: a black sweatshirt, loose jeans, and a wool hat.
You stepped out into the hallway, where you greeted an elderly couple just coming down the stairs, and went up to the 13th floor. There, you walked to the right-hand corridor and to the end, where Sooin's door was. You knocked a couple of times.
Sooin opened the door almost immediately, her white hair loose and slightly damp, as if she had just showered, her white eyes with small pupils fixed on you.
"Oh, you came," she said, her lips curving into a small smile. That night, to your surprise, she wasn't wearing a coat. She had on a tight black sweater, cropped just a few inches below her breasts, and loose jeans, revealing a portion of her midriff. Uncharacteristic of her, certainly.
And now you realized… damn, she was hot.
"Well, yeah, I didn't want to be rude and ignore an invitation," you replied, returning her smile.
"Come in, it must be freezing in there," Sooin said, stepping aside.
You entered, the door behind you closing with a silent click. Sooin's apartment was immaculate. It was the same size as yours, of course, but hers looked a thousand times tidier and cleaner. The furniture was minimalist, black or white even in the decorations. Everything was spotless, almost too much so. There wasn't a speck of dust, not even a hint of soap smell.
As if, well… as if no one actually lived there.
She led you into the living room, where there was a large L-shaped sofa with a small glass table resting on two rectangular legs.
"Please, sit down," Sooin said gently from behind you. "Would you like some coffee? Or something warm?"
"Coffee will be good," you nodded, settling into the middle of the comfortable sofa.
Sooin nodded and went into the kitchen, not far from the living room. You could still see her.
The scent returned.
It was softer this time, but also more distinct. Now you were taking in the scent of jasmine. It wasn't unpleasant and nauseating like that morning, but it made you nervous, mainly because, as always, you had no idea where it was coming from.
You watched Sooin as she picked up two porcelain cups and poured steaming coffee into both. The scent seemed to mingle with the other, intensifying it. You did your best to hide the way you wrinkled your nose.
"Here," she said, handing you the cup as she returned to you.
"Thanks," you smiled, taking the cup.
You sipped the bitter liquid, trying to conceal how uncomfortable the lingering combination of smells was making you. The coffee was perfect, neither too hot nor too sweet.
Sooin sat down next to you, a little too close, placing her cup on the glass table. Then she clasped her hands over her knees.
"Is it good?" she asked in a low, soft voice.
"Amazingly good, actually," you replied with a brief smile.
Sooin nodded slightly, not looking directly at you. She picked up her own mug and took a silent sip, her eyes fixed on some point on the floor. For a moment, only the sounds outside could be heard: windows rattling from the sudden icy gusts, car horns, or the occasional noisy neighbor.
"I thought you weren't coming," Sooin finally said, without looking up. She took a small sip of her coffee.
"I almost didn't," you admitted, letting out a chuckle. "The weather… work, you know."
It was a lie, of course. You didn't have any work to do, and the weather didn't bother you. You were just anxious and brooding over what you'd experienced that morning.
"Yes," she agreed, turning the mug over in her hands. "The weather can be… rough lately."
A stronger gust of wind rattled the windows, making the glass vibrate. You jumped slightly, but Sooin calmly sipped her coffee. Silence settled between you again. It wasn't as comfortable as it had been a week ago. It was tense. Or at least, that's how it felt to you.
"You look tired," Sooin murmured, breaking the silence.
"I guess I didn't sleep well," you replied, shrugging. "The noises from my ceiling again."
Sooin grimaced and nodded, looking embarrassed.
"Oh… sorry," she said slowly. "I didn't think it was that loud. I dropped something while I was tidying up; it was an accident."
You sighed.
"I figured. I thought half your wardrobe had fallen on you. The thud was quite loud."
Sooin let out a short, nervous giggle.
"Yeah, I must have scared you a lot. I'm sorry."
"A little," you admitted, though it was an understatement of how truly terrified you'd been afterward. The memory still sent a shiver down your spine. "But hey, as long as nothing happened to you…"
Sooin shook her head gently.
"I'm fine. It was just a scare… right?"
There was something about her tone that struck you as odd, though you couldn't quite put your finger on it. Maybe it was the way she said it, or the small smile that flickered across her lips right after. It felt like she knew more than she should. Like she knew your heart had nearly leaped out of your chest from the fright and you'd almost thrown up out the window.
You cleared your throat and looked away, trying to distract yourself with the steam rising from your cup. Sooin, on the other hand, seemed perfectly calm, swirling her coffee in small circles before taking another sip.
"You know? I'm glad you came," she said after a few seconds.
You turned to look at her.
"Why?"
Sooin shrugged and placed her cup on the glass table.
"Most people don't," she replied. "When I invite them over, some make up excuses, others just never answer my messages again. I guess… I don't know, they find me strange."
"Strange isn't the word I'd use," you countered. "Mysterious, maybe."
Sooin raised an eyebrow slightly, but didn't reply immediately.
"Mysterious sounds better, yeah," she finally murmured. "Although, it's not the same thing?"
“It depends,” you said. “Some people inspire curiosity. Others, well, a little fear. You're right in the middle.”
Sooin gave a soft chuckle and tilted her head, looking straight ahead.
“A little fear?” she repeated, feigning offense. “Is that what you think of me?”
“Well… not exactly,” you tried to clarify, raising your hands. “It's just a way of saying you're a little intimidating.”
“Sure, that sounds more elegant, doesn't it?” she said. “Anyway, I'm glad you came.”
Sooin settled back on the sofa a little closer to you. You just sipped the rest of your coffee in silence.
“Are you going to stay quiet the whole time?” she murmured, leaning slightly toward you, gauging your reaction.
You swallowed, aware of her proximity. The scent was still there, only now you became strangely aware of it, unable to ignore it. Just then, a shiver ran down your spine.
"I thought you liked conversations," she added, almost whispering.
"Of course I do," you said, trying not to sound nervous. "It's just, uhm… I think I'm a little shy when I go to someone's house for the first time. Politeness, I guess."
"Oh, politeness?" Sooin tilted her head. "That's new. Most people try to seem more confident than they actually are."
You shrugged.
"I've never been too good at pretending."
"You're genuine, then. I like genuine people," she said, moving just a little closer, your thighs touching.
Then you realized she was staring at you.
You turned your head and met her gaze. Those eyes… damn. They looked like two wells filled with moonlight. Bright. Beautiful. Hypnotic, too.
"Really?" you asked, finding your own breath a little labored.
"Yes, but then you could answer a question for me," she said. "Why did you really come here? You don't seem like the type to be easily lured out of his cave."
"Curiosity," you replied simply, holding her gaze.
"Curiosity about what?"
"About you. I've always found you very interesting… and attractive. I didn't want to miss the chance to get to know you better."
"I see… curiosity, then," Sooin tilted her head. "You know curiosity is dangerous, right?"
The light in the room flickered. It was barely a blink, but you noticed it.
"Dangerous?" you repeated with a nervous giggle. "I didn't know wanting a cup of coffee had side effects."
“You just said it was because you wanted to get to know me better, not because of the coffee,” she retorted.
You were about to reply, perhaps with a joke, but the overhead light flickered again. It was only for a second, but the flash was so intense that the entire room was bathed in white. An unnatural white, too pure. Your heart leapt. When the light returned, she was still there, calm, as if nothing had happened.
Your throat went dry immediately, and your nerves were on edge. Something was very wrong.
“Are you getting to know me better now?” she asked, her voice soft and slightly husky.
“I-I’d say so,” you finally managed, with an awkward attempt at a smile.
Sooin tilted her head, studying you in a gesture that felt predatory.
“Then coming here wasn’t such a bad idea.”
Her fingers moved slightly forward, just enough to brush your forearm with their tips. The icy touch was the same; It sent shivers through your entire body.
"Hmm, why are you shivering?" she asked.
"It's freezing in here," you stammered. "Don't you have the heat on?"
Then you realized that the air itself wasn't actually cold. It was her.
Sooin smiled without parting her lips and placed a hand on your thigh. You froze.
"I could warm you up, if you'd like," she whispered.
You opened your mouth to reply, but again the words were snatched from your lips as the scent returned to your nostrils. Not the sweet jasmine scent you'd noticed earlier and overlooked, but a deeper, more organic version, as if flowers were opening and simultaneously wilting inside your lungs.
It made you dizzy.
"Are you okay?" Sooin asked, and you noticed the genuine concern in her voice.
"Ah… yes," you nodded, looking away. "It's the smell. That smell. You know what I mean. Where… where is it coming from?"
"Maybe from you," she said.
You frowned, confused, but didn't know what to say. Sooin's hand slowly moved up your thigh and stopped at the hem of your hoodie, also touching the edge of your jeans. You looked into her eyes.
"You're really tense, don't you think?" Sooin said, and slipped two cold fingers inside the hem of your jeans. "You should relax a little… baby."
The light flickered again, in shorter intervals this time, and each time it did, Sooin's eyes seemed to glow brighter, almost a reflection of the flickering lights. The dizziness worsened for you.
"I think I should go…" you managed to say, your voice coming out softer than you expected.
Sooin shook her head gently.
"Not yet," she murmured. "You haven't gotten to know me well enough yet."
Her words caught you. You couldn't tell if it was her tone, or the slight tremor in them, as if the thought of you leaving truly pained her. But the urge to stand vanished instantly.
Sooin leaned forward slightly, her warm breath close to your jaw.
"Are you afraid of me?"
"No," you lied.
"Then why aren't you looking at me?" she asked. "Am I not pretty enough?"
You felt her hair brush against your arm. You turned to look at her again, so close your breaths mingled. Her hair had been damp earlier, you remembered. Now it fell completely dry and shiny, as if she had meticulously combed it and applied several care products.
You kept your gaze on her. The shine of her hair reflected the ceiling lights, and for a moment you had the impression that its strands were moving on their own, as if in very slow, faint breaths. But it could also be that you were still dizzy from the scent. It had to be that. Not because her hair had a life of its own. That would be silly.
Right?
"That's better," she said, smiling contentedly. "Do you think I'm pretty?"
"I think you're beautiful, yes," you said, nodding. You really did think so. "Can I… can I kiss you?"
Your words surprised even yourself; they definitely weren't premeditated, and you didn't really know why you said them. It was just… instinct. Something inside you, something deep within, that compelled you to do it. That same something somehow managed to ignite a small flame of desire that threatened to flare up.
Sooin, far from seeming surprised, bit her lower lip and simply nodded. Then, you kissed her.
The dizziness vanished. The cold that emanated from her, once chilling, had now transformed into a pleasant, familiar warmth that invited you to press closer as the kiss intensified. Sooin was a good kisser; excellent, you should say. Her lips felt soft, delicious, and fit perfectly with yours.
Sooin placed a hand on your cock and gave it a gentle squeeze through your pants, making you gasp. In response, you raised a hand and cupped one of her breasts. Sooin moaned softly against your lips, and with feline agility, she straddled your lap to place her now pleasantly warm hands on either side of your neck.
With your breath gradually becoming more ragged, you allowed yourself to wrap your arms around her and pull her close. Sooin deepened the kiss, moving her head from side to side and moaning amidst the fierce exchange of saliva. She shifted her hips slightly on your lap, an invitation for you to slide your hands from her waist down to her ass and squeeze it; it was soft and round, and felt amazing under your hands.
Soon you found yourself immersed in the moment, savoring those sweet… too sweet lips, and delighted to run your hands all over her sexy body. Almost reflexively, you opened your eyes a little.
Something was moving behind her.
Nine white, furry, long shapes, slightly translucent. They curled in the air. Undulating. Alive. Like cold flames.
A moment of clarity came to you, and with it, your heart stopped for a second.
Tails.
You abruptly pushed Sooin off your lap.
"Damn it, I just remembered I left the stove on!" you said, jumping to your feet. "My house's going to burn down!"
Sooin looked at you with a confused expression, tilting her head. What you had seen was no longer behind her. Although her hair was still shiny and beautiful, as were her eyes, fixed on you.
"I… did something wrong, didn't I?" Sooin asked, her voice filled with innocence and regret.
"N-no! No, no," you quickly shook your head, taking small steps back, unconsciously looking for the exit. "You didn't do anything wrong, sweetie. It's just that I really have to turn off the stove or a tragedy could happen."
"Are you going to leave me alone, then?" Sooin lamented. "But the night! It's so cold…"
"It'll only be a moment!" you replied, now closer to the hallway that led to the door. "I'll be right back."
"You're lying," she said, her voice deeper this time, like two voices overlapping into one. "You will leave me here alone."
You gritted your teeth, and without another word, you turned and hurried out of the apartment.
A violent, cold gust of wind hit your face as you stepped into the hallway, but there wasn't a single open window in sight. Every muscle in your body tensed. You took long strides toward the stairs and descended them two at a time, feeling the cold seep into your bones again and that disgusting smell return.
Your heart pounded so hard you could barely think. What you had seen was real. You weren't crazy. You could count on one hand the paranormal experiences you'd had in your life, and for each one you had a logical, rational explanation. But this was something completely different. Something that, no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't attribute to any logic whatsoever.
In the morning, you had been calm about the smell and the sounds. It was strange, certainly, but perfectly plausible oddities within a normal context. Now you had seen tails where there shouldn't have been any.
Your instinct told you to run.
When you reached your apartment door, you hurriedly pulled the keys out of your pocket. They fell to the floor, but you quickly picked them up with trembling hands. The damn lock jammed twice in a row, but after a bit of a struggle, you managed to get inside.
The profound silence was unnerving. You walked to your living room and grabbed the back of your sofa, letting your head hang between your shoulders, trying to catch your breath. The smell of rotten flowers, still in the air, was slowly making you dizzy again.
You closed your eyes and swallowed. Why the hell was everything so quiet? As far as you knew, it was still snowing outside. It was like being in a soundproof chamber.
You'd have to make do with it. At least you were safe from her.
"I'm fine," you said softly to yourself. "I'm fine…"
"Are you sure?"
Sooin's voice.
Your heart skipped a beat. You turned and looked around. The room was completely empty, with no sign of her.
"I-It can't be…" you muttered, your voice shaking. "Couldn't she have…?"
"There's no point in hiding, you know?" you heard in your ear, as if she had whispered beside you.
You jumped back in fright and ran to your door to get out of there. It wouldn't open.
You struggled with the doorknob, desperate. Just as the lights in your apartment began to flicker.
And then, footsteps behind you. They weren't human, because you heard nails scraping the floor. You didn't dare turn around. You couldn't. However, when the footsteps stopped behind you after accelerating, you turned around with a scream.
Nothing.
"You said you thought I was beautiful," Sooin's voice said again, from somewhere in your apartment. "Why are you running away from me?"
"Fuck, stop it!!" you yelled, your breath ragged.
You started walking toward your bedroom, but stopped dead in your tracks when you noticed something on the floor. Animal footprints. They weren't dog tracks; the pads were noticeably smaller. Whatever it was, it seemed to have been digging in the dirt.
Instead of walking, you ran to your bedroom and locked yourself inside.
The lights were off, so the room was pitch black. Even so, you decided not to turn on the switch, trying somehow to find some comfort in the darkness. You slid your back out the door until you were sitting on the floor, hugging your legs and resting your chin between your knees. You were trying to calm yourself.
Breathe, that's what you needed.
God, what the fuck is going on? you thought, trying to find a logical explanation for all the shit that was happening.
A nightmare, that must be it. You hadn't slept well for days. Maybe it was a bad dream brought on by all the accumulated stress and exhaustion. It wasn't something you remembered happening to you before, but there's a first time for everything, right? It had to end sometime. You just had to breathe…
Something moved in the darkness. You held your breath.
You weren't alone in your own room.
"You know it's useless to hide from me, don't you?" a voice asked from the darkness.
You hurried to your feet, almost tripping over a storage box that was nearby, and turned on the light.
Sooin was there. Sitting on your bed.
The beautiful woman was no longer wearing the outfit she had been wearing just a few minutes ago. Now all she wore was a short, sleeveless, silver silk nightgown. She wore nothing underneath.
Sooin stood up, and with her returned the putrid smell, now with a new undertone: wet manure. It made you dizzy instantly, forcing you to lean back against the door as she walked slowly toward you. You stared at her, unblinking, eyes wide and hands trembling.
"There's no need to be afraid, my dear…" Sooin said, stopping just inches from your face. "I promise I won't scare you this time."
Too late to say that, considering she'd somehow managed to sneak into your apartment and change her clothes in the process. There was no way you weren't scared.
But she looked… so hot. You blinked a few times, your gaze taking in her alluring body. Her legs were beautiful, perfectly fleshy yet toned. The neckline of her nightgown revealed a pair of small but round and pretty breasts. And, judging by the shape of her dress in the back, you could see a firm, round ass.
"Look, I'll leave and not bother your poor soul anymore if that's what you want, okay?" she said, tilting her head. "But first, let me try to convince you."
Sooin raised her hands, making you flinch, but instead of doing anything to you, she grabbed the straps of her nightgown, slid them off her shoulders, and let the thin garment fall to the floor, revealing her completely naked body.
"What the…" you murmured, mesmerized by the sight before you. You couldn't hide the fact that you liked it. Her nipples were small and pretty; her abdomen, sexy and toned. And her pussy was perfectly shaved.
If you didn't know she wasn't entirely human, you would have thought she was the perfect girl.
"So?" Sooin waited for your answer, her hands behind her back and her bright eyes fixed on you. "Do you like it?"
A soft, pleasant breeze hit your face from somewhere, also stirring Sooin's hair. The breeze brought back the scent, but now you only perceived freshly cut flowers mixed with apple blossom. The same scent made your dizziness disappear like an effective aromatherapy.
Next, warmth. You felt it throughout your body, completely suppressing the wintry chill that had seeped into the building on the gusts of wind that particular night. Suddenly, everything felt right. Something in the back of your mind fought back, screaming that what you were about to do wasn't right. But it didn't take much effort to ignore it.
You wanted her like crazy. Who cares if she was creepy?
You wrapped your arms around her and crashed your lips against hers.
Sooin met your kiss with a deep sigh, throwing her arms around your neck, one of her hands on the back of your head. Your lips resumed that intense battle from earlier, colliding in a lascivious exchange of saliva, soon joined by tongues. Your hands roamed over her smooth body, lingering at her ass. You squeezed it, and she moaned against your lips. Then, she lowered a hand and slipped it inside your sweatpants and boxers, grasping your hard cock with her warm hand.
"I could suck your cock…" she murmured against your lips, her voice purring, seductive. It pierced your brain and sent a tingle through you. "Do you want it?"
You nodded without hesitation.
Sooin placed her hands on your chest and slowly slid them down as she knelt in front of you, knees spread wide. She gripped your thighs and brought her face close to your bulge, rubbing her entire face against it and leaving little kisses between soft moans. A moment later, she lifted the hem of your hoodie and, with impressive dexterity, caught the waistband of your sweatpants and boxers with her teeth and easily pulled them both down to free your cock.
"Oh wow…" Sooin gasped, her eyes scrutinizing your throbbing cock. "Centuries of hunting and I've never seen one so big and tempting…"
You must have been confused by that last bit, but your mind filtered it out and eventually ignored it when, still with her hands on your thighs, Sooin stuck out her tongue and ran it along the back of your cock to the tip, where she swirled it until she drew out a couple of drops of precum, which she immediately collected with a moan.
When she did, her hair flashed for a second, like a tiny pulse.
You blinked in confusion, but that didn't stop you from moaning the moment Sooin took you into her mouth. Inside, it felt as warm as her touch, and her tongue felt silky smooth underneath. She dug her nails lightly into your thighs, looked up into your eyes, and began pumping her pretty lips along your shaft.
Sooin sucked your cock with a slow, measured rhythm, so sensual and delicious that you felt tingles all over your body. She didn't use her hands; there was no need. With just her mouth, she was able to make you moan loudly and clench your toes. The best part was that she wasn't satisfied with just a few centimeters, because with each passing second she went further, taking more and more of your length into her mouth until her nose touched your pubis with every pump.
Soon, your cock was completely coated in her thick saliva, sucked and spat out again and again. She made your tip brush against her throat with no effort, much less showing any sign of a gag reflex. It was perfect. A sublime display of skill. You'd never felt anything like it.
Her hair pulsed with shine again, making you frown. The pattern repeated itself for the next few seconds, until, without realizing it, you came inside her mouth.
It felt so good that your legs trembled and your mind went blank for a second. Weird for a climax; you didn’t even came that hard.
Sooin moaned around your cock, delighted by the way you shot jets of semen against her throat. She closed her eyes and pumped her head harder, diligently swallowing every drop. Hungry. As if she truly needed it.
Then, she opened her eyes and looked at you, her mouth still full of your cock. They were glistening. Like two pearls exposed to moonlight. Far from freaking you out, you were mesmerized for a few seconds until they returned to their usual luster. Just as your climax had passed.
Sooin pulled you out of her mouth and showered more wet kisses around your shaft.
"Why don't you fuck me?" she asked.
You didn't say anything; instead, you followed your own carnal impulses and helped her to her feet, then threw her onto the bed. Sooin landed in the middle as you stripped completely naked, and after leaving all your clothes on the floor, you climbed into bed with her and covered her body with yours before kissing her.
Sooin opened her legs wide and trapped your torso between them, her hands gripping your neck as you kissed her passionately. The tip of your cock brushed against her pussy, which you could feel was soaking wet. She lifted her hips at the contact and intensified it, teasing your cock and rubbing it between her folds. That made you breathe harder, grasp your cock with one hand, and guide it inside her.
Every inch of it fit perfectly inside her pussy, sliding in so easily you barely noticed when you were balls deep inside her. Sooin let out a high, sweet moan against your lips, and you shared the feeling, as it felt like a warm embrace around your cock. Again, you were sure you'd never felt anything like it. Her pussy was tight as hell, but at the same time, it felt so silky and warm you could stay there for hours.
You planted your hands on the mattress and started moving your hips, your cock going all the way in and out of her. Sooin moaned against your lips, bobbing her head from side to side. Seconds later, she broke the kiss, and you could look closely into those big, bright eyes, more beautiful than any you'd ever seen.
"Take me however you want, handsome boy," she murmured, caressing your shoulders with her hands. "I'm completely yours. Use me."
You groaned and buried your face in her neck, covering it with kisses and bites. She was dangerous, you knew it; you still hadn't processed that she'd snuck into your damn room, just as you hadn't processed everything you'd seen that night. In fact, you still thought it must be a nightmare. A wet nightmare, but a nightmare nonetheless. It would end when you…?
You'd find out.
After a minute of fucking her with her legs wrapped around your torso, you straightened your back and brought her thighs together, pressing them against your abdomen. Sooin read your mind and hugged her legs behind her knees, holding them and making it easier for you.
The bedroom was soon filled with the sound of flesh slapping together. Your hands were on her thighs, firm fingers digging into her soft flesh. You were going fast and hard now. Sooin squealed, her sensual moans urging you to continue. Her eyes, closed just moments before, opened to meet yours, her face twisted with pleasure. She was utterly delighted with you being so down bad for her.
You made her come. Her legs trembled beneath your grip, her feet jerking in the air. Her moans caressed your eardrums as her pussy tightened around your cock, drenching it with fluids that spurted out in small jets. The hot sensation made you moan too.
With gritted teeth and lust throbbing inside you like a burning flame, you turned her on her side and gripped one thigh before continuing to pound her pussy. Sooin cried out in pleasure, her gaze fixed on you, heavy with desire. She placed a hand on your abdomen, her nails digging in. A little too hard. She then scratched them down your skin.
You were about to let out a small groan of pain, but something fluttered to your left, like a gentle breeze. You turned, but there was nothing there. Only a minute later, when you were fucking her so hard and so deep that you brought her to another orgasm, did you know what it was.
Those damn tails again.
They were only visible to you for a second, but it was enough to take them in. They sprouted from her lower back, each about five feet long. They were white and fluffy, with orange tips. Slightly translucent, they had vanished into thin air when you blinked.
"Harder, please," Sooin purred, drawing your attention back. "It feels so good inside me."
"W-What… what was that?" you gasped, still staring at the air where her tails had been.
"What was what?" Sooin tilted her head.
"They were tails!" you said, scared but at the same time unwilling to abandon her pussy.
Sooin giggled and moved her hips, fucking herself against you since you weren't moving on your own yet.
"And what's wrong with tails?" she gasped. "They're beautiful…"
"Well…"
"I said they're beautiful," she replied, and her voice again sounded strangely dubbed. Louder. It reverberated inside your chest. "Don't you dare insult them."
"I… okay."
"Are you going to fuck me harder and fill me with that delicious semen or not?"
Of course, if you did what she asked and came, the nightmare would be over, right? That's how it always worked in cases like this. You'd wake up embarrassingly stained in your bed, but it would all be over.
But… did you really want it to end? You flipped her onto her hands and knees, leaving her beautiful ass raised, and began fucking her with impetuous intensity again, slamming your pelvis against her buttocks. Her pussy felt so fucking good… so warm. So overwhelmingly delicious.
Did it really matter… whatever she was?
The line between your reason and your lust was beginning to blur.
Fucking her in that position brought Sooin to another orgasm just a minute later. Your thrusts were violent, and that's how she came, crumpling the sheets beneath her fingers and desperately pushing her hips against you, her body in the throes of intense spasms.
The tails reappeared, and for a split second one of them tickled your nose with its fluffiness.
Then you noticed something.
That's where the scent was coming from.
That time it was pleasant: the same scent of flowers and fresh apples. Nothing different from aromatic incense or perfume. You could tolerate it without any problem.
But the thought that the other smells had also come from there… putrid and nauseating… gave you goosebumps.
Of course, it was too late to back down. Not when you felt your blood pumping faster and faster to your cock.
The tails disappeared, and Sooin looked at you over her shoulder as she pressed her ass against you.
Your blood ran cold. Her eyes had changed.
Same color, same size. But her pupils were different: smaller. Slit-like. Snake-like? No… it couldn't be. Snake pupils were almost a line; like a dagger. These were more like pointed ovals. Were they cat-like?
No, not cat-like. The tails appeared for another fraction of a second, and you figured it out. A fox.
"You want me to ride you, don't you?" she asked, with a mischievous little smile that made you notice something else: two long, inward-curving canines protruded from her upper lip. "I can see it in your eyes."
You nodded again.
Sooin then moved with inhuman agility. She was like a blur in the air. A whitish, slightly translucent blur. She grabbed your shoulders, her nails digging into your skin, and tossed you like a rag doll onto your back on the bed.
In the blink of an eye, Sooin was impaling herself on your cock. You didn't have time to be as deeply horrified as you should have been, not when the beautiful woman began to move her hips so deliciously that your mind returned to a more primal, carnal state.
"Fuck!" Sooin moaned, gripping your shoulders as she moved her hips back and forth. "That's the best cock I've had in three hundred years!!"
Three hundred years… What the hell was that woman, really?
You didn't have time to think about it. Sooin collapsed on top of you and covered your face with kisses, before sticking out her tongue and licking the side of your face. She moaned in your ear. Seconds later, you felt her come with cute little whimpers, also bathing your cock with more intense jets of squirt.
Sooin didn't stop; she planted her feet on the mattress and began bouncing violently on your cock, looking into your eyes with a half-smile as she slammed her ass against your pelvis. Her eyes were as bright as you'd noticed them minutes before, and now her hair seemed to vibrate in the air, like static. The tails reappeared, but this time they didn't disappear.
Suddenly, you began to feel weak.
"You're going to give me all that load, aren't you?" Sooin asked, bouncing on every inch of your throbbing cock. "I need it… I need it so badly. I need it!"
All you could do was stare into her eyes, panting from the overwhelming pleasure she was giving you but also feeling too tired to fully raise your arms; you could barely reach her below her buttocks. Sooin maintained eye contact the whole time, until, with a deep groan, you came.
"Ahhhh yes!!" Sooin shrieked, rolling her eyes and digging her nails into your chest.
The lights in your room began to flicker violently as you shot jet after jet of hot, thick cum inside her. Sooin's hair then floated in the air, its silky strands waving. The bedroom went dark, leaving only… her.
Sooin glowed with an almost spectral aura. Her eyes, her hair, and especially her tails. All the purest white. Her skin seemed to glow too.
But no, it wasn't her skin, it was her veins. Very opaque lines running all over her body.
The glow stopped when she had received your entire load. But now you felt exhausted. Too exhausted. You were struggling to breathe, and you felt… fragile. For a moment you felt that if someone tapped your forehead, it would shatter like brittle glass.
Sooin finally looked at you again in the darkness. Her eyes were the only thing still glowing, those animal pupils fixed on you. She leaned closer and gave you a couple of tender kisses, still impaled on your cock.
"You know… I usually get rid of all my victims," she whispered. "I cut them into little pieces and eat them. But you…" She ran a long, sharp fingernail across your lips. "I liked you. Too much. So I'll let you live."
The nightmare was about to end; you just had to hold on a little longer. It would end, you were sure of it.
But even so, you couldn't help asking what had been swirling around in your head. The one question you couldn't get out of your mind:
"What… what are you?" you asked, your voice trembling. "You're not… human."
"I'm more human than you think, boy," she replied. "But I am also… something more. Something that faded with time, passed down from generation to generation, becoming nothing more than a mere myth. I am human too, yes. But I do not share the same disgusting ignorance as you simple mortals. We of my kind are wiser than that."
Sooin vanished into thin air above you, letting your limp cock fall against your abdomen. She reappeared beside your window.
Then, she began to change.
Her features began to blur. Her skin glowed again, emitting an opaque white aura. Her hair blended with that light. And she began to shrink, just a little. Where she stood, the light began to transform her into an animal. A majestic, gigantic animal.
A beautiful nine-tailed fox, with immaculately clean white fur. Its tails undulating behind her like tall flames.
"Now, rest," Sooin's voice echoed in your head, as the fox stared at you without moving its jaws. "You will not speak of this to anyone. You will not run away from me. You can live your life normally, but you will never leave this place. Otherwise… you will meet the same fate as those who came before you."
The blinds and your window flew open, letting in the violent winter wind from outside. Then, without another word, Sooin, or the fox, turned to the window and leaped out of your room, disappearing into the cold night.
Tags : Female Bullies, Yandere, Obsessed, Kissing, Stripping, Kissing, Kinky, FFM Threesome, Cowgirl, Creampies, A Lot of obsession and Dirty Words, Seduction
Words : 5,064 Words
A Lovely Commision Work For My Friend @KariNeko From Ko-Fi. I Hope You Guys Liked It. Enjoyyy.
College life was supposed to be fun, a Fresh start, a New Beginning. But instead, you found yourself crushed under the weight of something far worse than high school. Them. Anna and Chaewon. Beautiful. Popular. Feared. They had everything—grades, influence, and a poisonous kind of charisma that made others orbit them like moons around dying stars. And for some reason, they chose you as their favorite target.
At first, it was subtle. A snide comment during roll call. A giggle when you presented your paper. A “harmless” shove in the hallway. But it got worse. They’d trip you in front of crowds. Swap your lunch with trash. One time, Anna spilled her drink all over your assignment and just laughed. "Oops," she said sweetly. "Guess you’ll have to start over."
And Chaewon? She was quieter, more calculated. She’d whisper to girls not to talk to you. You once caught her deleting your group project file from the shared drive. No one stood up for you. You became invisible. To the professors. To classmates. Even to yourself. You’d sit alone in the library, headphones in, pretending to study while your thoughts turned dark. Why me?
What did I ever do to deserve this?
But then. It all changed.
It was raining. You had just finished your last class when you heard it—a scream. Sharp. Desperate. It echoed from the parking lot construction zone, where a temporary barrier had fallen. You ran. And what you saw made your blood freeze. Anna was trapped under a twisted scaffold, blood dripping down her forehead. Chaewon was trying to lift it, her hands scraped and shaking. “Help—! Someone please—!”
She didn’t even recognize it was you at first. But you ran forward, no hesitation. You didn’t think about the pain. The weight. The fact that no one ever helped you. You just knew someone was going to die if you didn’t act. You wedged your body under the scaffold, pushed with everything you had, freeing Anna just enough so Chaewon could pull her out. And then it gave in. Metal slammed against your back, and everything went black. Your breath slowly fades away as you could hear a fading scream saying "Nooo.. noo.. Y/nnn".
You drifted in and out of consciousness, barely remembering the blinding lights, the chaos, the pain in your ribs. But one thing you remembered clearly: The sound of crying. Anna, sobbing uncontrollably, her hand clutching yours as if it were the last thing anchoring her to the world. Chaewon, eyes red and hollow, whispering, "Please wake up… please, we were wrong…" They stayed with you through the night.
Nurses tried to move them, but they refused to leave. Anna curled up in the corner of your hospital room, her makeup smeared with tears. Chaewon sat beside your bed, still holding your hand even when you slipped into sleep again.
Two weeks later, You returned to campus, limping slightly, your bag slung awkwardly over your shoulder. And that’s when everything… changed. Anna and Chaewon were there. Waiting. They rushed to you, eyes wide, arms full of food containers and handwritten letters. They hovered around you like bodyguards—pulling your chair, zipping your bag, wiping your desk. They didn’t leave you alone. Not for a second.
At first, you thought it was guilt. Maybe even pity. But then you noticed the way Anna looked at you when you smiled—like it hurt her. You noticed how Chaewon glared at any girl who sat too close. You saw the tremble in Anna’s hand when she touched your arm, and how tightly she held onto it. They weren’t just grateful. They were possessed. They felt like they have to protect you from anything that they saw unfit.
And before you know it, you are now stuck in the grasp of your so called bully. But it got even worse, as now, They are into you, and they would do anything in their power to make sure you are theirs. Forever.
The next day arrived. The air in the classroom feels heavier than usual, the kind of weight that settles on your chest and makes it hard to breathe. You’re scribbling notes, trying to focus, but you can feel their eyes on you. Anna and Chaewon. Your two former tormentors, now… something else entirely. They haven’t left your side since the accident—since you saved them. Their constant presence is both comforting and suffocating, but today, something feels different. The way they’re staring at you—it’s not the usual protective gaze. It’s sharper, hungrier.
You glance up cautiously, and there they are, sitting a few rows ahead. Anna’s long dark hair cascades over her shoulder as she twists in her seat, her piercing gaze locking onto yours. Chaewon, with her sharp features and mischievous smile, leans forward, her lips curling into something that’s not quite a grin. Your stomach tightens. They lean closer together, whispering, their eyes never leaving you. You try to look away, but it’s impossible. They’ve always had this effect on you, even when they were bullying you. Now? It’s amplified tenfold.
The bell rings, snapping you out of your thoughts. You quickly stuff your notebook into your bag and stand up, eager to escape the tension. But as you turn to leave, you feel a hand on your arm. It’s gentle, yet firm. Chaewon.
“Hey,” she says, her voice low and smooth, like she’s savoring the word. “Where are you rushing off to?”
You freeze, your heart pounding in your chest. “Just… heading to the library,” you stammer, avoiding her eyes.
Anna appears beside her, her smirk unmistakable. “The library? Really? Why don’t you hang out with us instead?” Her tone is light, almost teasing, but there’s an edge to it that makes your skin prickle.
“I, uh…” You trail off, unsure of how to respond. Before you can think of an excuse, Anna loops her arm through yours, pulling you closer. Her body presses against yours, and you can feel the warmth radiating from her. Chaewon steps in on your other side, her fingers brushing against your hand.
“Come on,” Chaewon purrs. “We’ve been meaning to talk to you.”
The words send a shiver down your spine. Talk? About what? You try to protest, but they’re already leading you away from the classroom, down a quiet hallway. Their grip tightens slightly, as if they’re afraid you’ll bolt. And maybe you should. But there’s something in their demeanor that keeps you rooted in place—a mix of curiosity and something darker, something you can’t quite put your finger on.
They stop at a secluded corner of the college backroom, a place rarely used except for storage. The air feels colder here, the fluorescent lights flickering ominously. Anna releases your arm and steps in front of you, her eyes scanning your face. Chaewon lingers behind you, her presence unnervingly close.
“So,” Anna begins, her voice barely above a whisper. “We saw you earlier. Smiling at that girl. What was that about?”
Your breath hitches. You hadn’t thought they’d noticed. It was just a brief moment—a friendly exchange with a classmate. But now, in their eyes, it seems like a crime.
“It was nothing,” you say quickly, your voice trembling. “She just asked me about the assignment.”
“Mmm,” Chaewon hums from behind you, her fingers trailing lightly up your arm. “Are you sure? Because it looked… intimate.”
You shake your head, panic rising in your chest. “No, it wasn’t like that. I swear.”
Anna steps closer, her chest brushing against yours. She tilts her head, studying you like you’re a puzzle she’s trying to solve. “You know,” she says softly, “you belong to us. Ever since that day… when you saved us. We owe you everything.”
Her words catch you off guard. That day. The accident. You hadn’t expected them to bring it up—especially not like this. You remember the fear in their eyes as they huddled together, the sound of screeching tires, and the rush of adrenaline as you pushed them out of harm’s way. You’d thought about it a million times since then, but hearing them say it now—something about the way Anna says it makes your stomach twist.
“I didn’t—” you start, but Chaewon cuts you off.
“Yes, you did,” she says firmly, her hands resting on your shoulders. “You saved us. And that means you’re ours. No one else gets to have you.”
Her words send a jolt through you. Ours. The possessiveness in her voice is unmistakable, and it triggers a mix of emotions—fear, confusion, and something else you’re too afraid to name. You try to step back, but Chaewon’s grip tightens, holding you in place.
Anna’s hand cups your cheek, her touch surprisingly gentle. “Don’t be scared,” she murmurs. “We’re not going to hurt you. We just need you to understand.”
Your pulse quickens as she leans in, her breath warm against your skin. Your mind races, trying to make sense of what’s happening, but then her lips are on yours, soft and insistent. The kiss is unexpected, yet achingly familiar, as if she’s done it a thousand times before. You freeze, unsure of how to respond, but then Chaewon’s hands slide down your arms, her touch igniting a spark of heat that spreads through your body.
Anna pulls back slightly, her eyes searching yours. “Do you understand now?” she whispers.
Before you can answer, Chaewon moves in front of you, her lips brushing against your ear. “Let us show you,” she says, her voice a low murmur that sends shivers down your spine.
Your breath catches as Anna’s hands drift to the hem of your shirt, her fingers slipping underneath and grazing your skin. Her touch is electric, and you feel your body respond instinctively, even as your mind screams for clarity. You’re torn between wanting to pull away and wanting to see where this is going.
Chaewon’s lips find yours again, this time more insistent, her kiss demanding your full attention. Her hands roam over your chest, pushing your shirt up as Anna works to pull it over your head. The cool air hits your skin, and you gasp against Chaewon’s mouth, your heart racing.
“Relax,” Anna murmurs, her voice a soothing balm against the storm of emotions raging inside you. Her fingers trace patterns on your bare chest, sending waves of warmth through your body. “We’ve got you.”
You feel like you’re teetering on the edge of something—something intense and overwhelming. But before you can fully process what’s happening, Chaewon pulls away, her eyes locking onto yours with a fierce intensity.
“Say it,” she demands, her voice low and steady. “Say you’re ours.”
You open your mouth to respond, but no words come out. Your mind is a whirlwind, torn between the pull of their touch and the voice of reason screaming in the back of your head. Anna’s lips brush against your neck, her breath hot against your skin, while Chaewon’s hands grip your waist possessively.
“Say it,” Chaewon repeats, her tone leaving no room for hesitation.
Chaewon’s lips moved down your neck, leaving a trail of heat that made your skin tremble. Her hands tightened around your wrists, pinning them above your head as her tongue flicked against your pulse point. Anna’s fingers were already inside you, her movements deliberate and teasing, her thumb circling your clit with maddening precision. You arched into her touch, a moan escaping your lips despite the shock of the situation. Their bodies pressed against you from both sides, overwhelming your senses with their warmth and the scent of their arousal.
“You’re ours,” Anna whispered, her voice low and possessive, her breath hot against your ear. “Only ours.” She tugged at your shirt, ripping it open with a single, forceful motion. The sound of fabric tearing sent a jolt of electricity through you, and before you could react, she was guiding your hands to her bra. “Undo it,” she commanded, her tone leaving no room for hesitation.
Your fingers fumbled with the clasp, trembling as you struggled to comply. When it finally came undone, Anna shrugged it off, letting it fall to the floor. Her breasts were bare now, perfect and inviting, her nipples already hard as they brushed against your chest. “Touch me,” she demanded, her eyes locking onto yours with a fiery intensity.
You hesitated for just a moment, but Anna’s sharp intake of breath and the way she leaned into your touch spurred you on. Your hands cupped her breasts, your thumbs brushing over her nipples, earning a soft moan from her lips. She was warm, soft, and so responsive, her chest rising and falling with each ragged breath. Behind you, Chaewon’s hands were busy, sliding your boxers down your legs and letting them pool at your feet. Her lips pressed against the tip of your cock, her tongue flicking out to taste you before she took you deeper into her mouth.
The sensation was immediate and overwhelming. Her mouth was hot and wet, her tongue swirling around you as she worked her way down your length. You gasped, your hands instinctively tightening on Anna’s breasts as Chaewon’s lips slid up and down, her pace slow and teasing at first, then faster, more insistent. Every movement sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, making it impossible to think, to focus on anything but the way she was sucking you with such skill and determination.
Anna’s hands were on you too, one still between your legs, her fingers curling inside you, while the other cupped your chin, forcing you to look at her. “You belong to us,” she repeated, her voice husky with desire. “Say it.”
You tried to speak, but the words caught in your throat as Chaewon took you deeper, her throat muscles tightening around you. Your hips bucked involuntarily, and she moaned around you, the vibration sending another shockwave of pleasure through your body. Anna’s fingers pressed harder against your clit, her touch demanding and relentless. “Say it,” she insisted, her sharp nails digging into your skin just enough to make you whimper.
“I—I’m yours,” you finally managed to choke out, the words barely audible over the sound of Chaewon’s mouth working on you. Anna smiled, a predatory gleam in her eyes as she leaned in to kiss you, her lips claiming yours with a fierce, almost bruising intensity. Her tongue pushed past your lips, tangling with yours as she deepened the kiss, swallowing your moans.
Chaewon pulled back slightly, her lips still wrapped around you as she looked up at you with those mischievous, half-lidded eyes. “Good,” she purred, her voice dripping with satisfaction. “Now let’s make sure you never forget it.”
Without warning, she sank down on you again, taking you all the way to the back of her throat. Your fingers tangled in her hair, holding her there as she gagged slightly, her throat constricting around you in a way that sent sparks shooting up your spine. Anna’s hand moved from your chin to your hip, gripping you tightly as she knelt in front of you, her lips trailing kisses down your abdomen until they reached where Chaewon’s mouth was wrapped around you.
Anna’s tongue joined Chaewon’s, licking and teasing the base of your cock as Chaewon continued to bob her head up and down. The combination of their mouths on you was almost too much to bear, the pleasure building rapidly, threatening to overwhelm you. You could feel yourself getting closer, the tension coiling tighter and tighter in your lower abdomen.
“Not yet,” Anna murmured, pulling back slightly and leaving you throbbing and desperate. Chaewon followed suit, releasing you with a wet pop and sitting back on her heels, her lips glistening with saliva. Both of them looked up at you with matching expressions of hunger and possessiveness, their gazes burning into you.
Anna straightened up, her fingers slipping out of you as she leaned in close, her breath hot against your ear. “We decide when you come,” she whispered, her voice sending a shiver down your spine. “Understand?”
You nodded shakily, unable to form words as Chaewon stood up behind you, her hands sliding around your waist to pull you against her. Her body was warm and soft against your back, her lips brushing against your neck as she whispered, “Don’t worry, we’ll take care of you.”
Anna stepped back, her eyes raking over you as she began to slip out of the rest of her clothes, revealing every inch of her flawless body. Chaewon’s hands moved lower, her fingers teasing the sensitive skin of your inner thighs before she slid one hand between your legs, her fingers slick with your arousal as she began to stroke you again.
“You’re so beautiful like this,” Chaewon murmured, her lips trailing kisses along your shoulder as her fingers worked their magic. Anna stepped closer once more, her hand reaching out to cup your cheek, her thumb brushing over your bottom lip as she leaned in for another kiss. This time, it was softer, more tender, but no less possessive, her tongue exploring your mouth as if savoring the taste of you.
When she finally pulled away, her eyes were dark with desire, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she whispered, “Now, let’s really make you ours.”
Anna’s lips parted from yours with a soft, wet sound, her breath hot against your skin as she whispered, “Now, let’s make you ours.” Her voice was low, sultry, and dripping with intent—enough to send shivers down your spine. Chaewon’s hands were already moving, her fingers sliding up your thighs while her nails grazed the sensitive skin, eliciting a sharp inhale from you. Their bodies pressed closer, their warmth enveloping you as they guided you to the floor, their movements deliberate and possessive.
Your back hit the cool surface of the hardwood floor, but you barely registered it as Chaewon straddled your torso, her hips grinding against you teasingly. Her sharp, mischievous smile was back, and she leaned down, her dark hair cascading over her shoulders as she caught your lips in a searing kiss. Her tongue pushed into your mouth, dominating you, claiming you, while her hands roamed freely over your chest, fingers pinching and teasing your nipples until they hardened under her touch.
Anna was quick to join, her long legs sliding beside yours as she lowered herself to hover over your lower half. Her piercing eyes locked with yours as she smirked, her fingers trailing down your abdomen, dancing dangerously close to where you throbbed with need. “You’re so eager,” she teased, her voice dripping with mockery and desire all at once. Her hand wrapped around your length, her touch firm but slow, drawing a low groan from your lips.
Chaewon broke the kiss, pulling back just enough to whisper, “Anna’s going to play with you first, but don’t worry—I’ll be watching.” Her breath was hot against your ear, her teeth nipping at your lobe before she shifted her weight, moving to kneel beside you. Her fingers traced patterns over your chest, her touch light and maddening, while Anna’s grip tightened slightly, her thumb brushing lazily over the sensitive tip of your cock.
Anna leaned down, her dark hair falling like a curtain around her face as she kissed the underside of your length, her lips soft and lingering. Her tongue darted out, lapping at the precum beading at the tip, and she hummed appreciatively, the vibration sending shocks of pleasure through you. “So sweet,” she murmured, her voice muffled as she took you deeper into her mouth, her tongue swirling around your shaft as she began to bob her head rhythmically.
Your hips bucked involuntarily, and Anna chuckled, the sound vibrating against your sensitive skin. She pulled back slightly, her lips still wrapped around you as she looked up at you through her lashes. “Naughty,” she chided, her tone playful but firm. “You’re going to let me take control, remember?” Her hand slid up to grip the base of your cock, keeping you still as she swallowed you down again, her pace deliberate and intoxicating.
Chaewon’s hands moved lower, her fingertips brushing over your inner thighs before she shifted closer, her lips pressing against your neck. “You belong to us,” she whispered, her voice dripping with possessiveness. Her teeth nipped at your skin, leaving a faint mark, while her hand slid between your legs, her fingers teasing the sensitive skin behind your balls.
Anna’s mouth was relentless, her tongue working magic as she hollowed her cheeks, taking you deeper with each pass. Your hands fisted at your sides, your body trembling under their combined attention. Chaewon’s fingers pressed against your entrance, slick and teasing, and you gasped, arching into her touch. “Relax,” she cooed, her lips brushing against your ear. “We’re just getting started.”
Her fingers pushed inside you, curling slightly to find that spot that made your vision blur. You moaned loudly, your hips lifting off the floor as Anna’s tongue swirled around your tip, her hand stroking you in time with Chaewon’s fingers. The sensations were overwhelming—Anna’s mouth, hot and wet, Chaewon’s fingers, skillful and relentless—and you couldn’t help but writhe beneath them, your body desperate for release.
“Not yet,” Anna purred, pulling away with a lewd pop. She adjusted her position, her knees sliding between your thighs as she leaned down, her lips brushing against yours in a heated kiss. “You’re not allowed to come until we say so.” Her hand returned to your cock, her strokes slow and teasing, while Chaewon withdrew her fingers, smirking as she brought them to her lips and licked them clean.
Chaewon rose to her knees, her hands moving to strip off her clothes with practiced ease. Her sharp features were flushed with desire, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she positioned herself over your face. “You’re going to taste me now,” she commanded, her voice thick with need. She lowered herself onto you, her thighs framing your face as she pressed her dripping core against your mouth.
You didn’t hesitate, your tongue darting out to lap at her folds, tasting the sweetness of her arousal. Chaewon gasped, her hands tangling in your hair as she ground against your face, her moans filling the room. “That’s it,” she encouraged, her voice breathless. “Make me come.”
Anna watched with dark, hungry eyes, her hand still stroking you lazily as she leaned down to capture your lips in another kiss. Her tongue mirrored the movements of yours, urging you to pleasure Chaewon with the same intensity she was showing you.
Chaewon’s hips bucked as your tongue found her clit, circling it with precision. Her moans grew louder, her thighs tightening around your head as she rode your face, chasing her release. “Yes, yes, just like that,” she gasped, her nails scraping against your scalp as she came undone, her body trembling with pleasure.
Anna pulled back, her lips swollen and glistening as she smirked down at you. “Good job,” she praised, her voice dripping with satisfaction. She shifted her position, her knees straddling your hips as she reached down to guide your cock to her entrance. “Now it’s my turn.”
She sank down onto you slowly, her tight heat enveloping you inch by inch until she was fully seated. Her head fell back, a low moan escaping her lips as she began to rock her hips, her movements slow and deliberate. “You feel so good inside me,” she murmured, her hands gripping your shoulders for balance as she increased her pace.
Chaewon recovered quickly, her hands roaming over Anna’s back as she leaned down to nip at her shoulder. “Let me help,” she whispered, her fingers sliding between Anna’s thighs to rub circles around her clit. Anna gasped, her movements becoming more erratic as she chased her own pleasure while riding you.
The room was filled with the sounds of their moans and the slickness of their bodies moving together. Anna’s grip on your shoulders tightened, her nails digging into your skin as she moaned, “I’m close… so close…” Her pace quickened, her walls clenching around you as she rode you with abandon.
Chaewon’s fingers worked faster, her mouth capturing Anna’s in a heated kiss as she felt Anna’s climax building. “Come for us,” she coaxed, her voice husky with desire. Anna obeyed, her body stiffening as she came with a loud cry, her walls milking you for every drop of pleasure.
Anna collapsed onto your chest, her breathing ragged as she whispered, “Now it’s Chaewon’s turn.” She slid off you languidly, her limbs heavy with satisfaction, while Chaewon eagerly took her place.
Chaewon’s sharp eyes locked with yours as she lowered herself onto you, her body fitting perfectly against yours. “You’re never going to forget this,” she promised, her voice soft but firm. She began to move, her hips rolling in slow, deliberate circles, her hands gripping your chest for leverage.
Anna watched with predatory eyes, her hands moving to caress Chaewon’s back as she leaned down to whisper something in her ear. Chaewon’s movements became more urgent, her breath hitching as she chased her pleasure with reckless abandon.
The room was filled with the sounds of their moans and the slickness of their bodies moving together. Anna’s grip on your shoulders tightened, her nails digging into your skin as she hissed, “You’re ours. Always.”
Anna’s grip on your wrist was firm, almost possessive, as she dragged you through the hallway of her apartment, Chaewon close behind, her laughter echoing ominously. The door clicked shut behind you, and suddenly, you were surrounded by the faint scent of vanilla and something darker, more intoxicating.
“Welcome home, baby,” Anna purred, her voice low and velvety as she stepped closer, her piercing eyes locking onto yours. Your pictures adorned the walls—photos of you smiling, unaware, stolen moments they’d captured without your knowledge. Your heart skipped a beat as you realized the extent of their obsession.
Chaewon circled you like a predator, her sharp features illuminated by the soft glow of the room. “Isn’t it perfect?” she whispered, her tone dripping with satisfaction. “We’ve been planning this for so long.” She traced a finger along your shoulder, sending a shiver down your spine. “Everything you love is here. Everything you need.”
Anna stepped closer, her chest brushing against yours as she cupped your cheeks with both hands. Her long, dark hair cascaded over her shoulders, framing her face like a dark halo. “You’re ours now,” she murmured, her breath warm against your skin. “And we’re never letting you go.”
You opened your mouth to protest, but Chaewon’s lips were suddenly on yours, silencing any objections. Her kiss was hungry, demanding, her hands tangling in your hair as she pulled you closer. Anna’s hands slid down your chest, her fingers trailing over your shirt before gripping the hem and pulling it off in one swift motion.
“See?” Anna whispered, her lips brushing against your ear as she dropped your shirt to the floor. “You’re perfect. You’ve always been perfect for us.” Her hands explored your torso, her touch electrifying, possessive.
Chaewon broke the kiss, her eyes gleaming with mischief as she stepped back slightly, her fingers trailing down your chest. “We’ve been waiting for this moment,” she said, her voice husky. “Every day, every night, we’ve thought about you. About us. About what we’ll do to you.”
Anna pressed herself against you, her hands sliding around your waist as she kissed your neck, her teeth grazing your skin just enough to make you gasp. “You saved us,” she murmured, her voice trembling with something deeper than gratitude. “And now we’ll never let you go. Never.”
Chaewon’s fingers brushed against your belt, her gaze never leaving yours as she unbuckled it with practiced ease. “You’re ours,” she said firmly, her voice a command, not a request. “Every part of you. Every thought. Every breath. You belong to us.”
Anna’s lips found yours again, her kiss softer this time, more tender—but no less possessive. Her hands slid under the waistband of your pants, her fingers warm against your skin. “We’ll take care of you,” she promised, her voice breathless. “We’ll love you. Forever.”
Chaewon’s hands joined Anna’s, and together, they pushed your pants down, leaving you standing there vulnerable, exposed, theirs. Anna’s lips trailed down your chest, her tongue flicking against your skin as she kissed her way lower. Chaewon stepped closer, her sharp eyes studying you with an intensity that made your heart race.
“You’re ours,” Chaewon repeated, her voice low and commanding. She knelt in front of you, her hands resting on your hips as she looked up at you with a mix of adoration and hunger. “Every part of you. Every inch.”
Anna’s hands gripped your hips, her lips brushing against your stomach as she whispered, “We’ll make this our home. Our family. Our forever.”
Chaewon’s breath was hot against your skin as she leaned in, her lips just barely grazing yours. “Say it,” she commanded, her voice trembling with emotion. “Say you’re ours.”
You hesitated, your mind racing, but Anna’s lips found yours again, her kiss silencing any resistance. “You’re ours,” she murmured against your lips, her voice firm. “You always have been.”
Chaewon’s hands slid up your chest, her fingers tangling in your hair as she pulled you closer. “Forever,” she whispered, her voice a promise—a threat. “Forever and ever and ever.”
The room was filled with the sound of their breathing, the heat of their bodies pressing against yours. Anna’s hands explored your chest, her touch possessive, claiming. Chaewon’s lips brushed against your neck, her teeth grazing your skin just enough to make you shiver.
“Say it,” Anna whispered, her voice trembling with need. “Say you’re ours.”
You opened your mouth, but Chaewon’s lips were on yours again, silencing any words. Her kiss was desperate, hungry, her hands gripping your shoulders as she pulled you closer. Anna’s hands slid lower, her touch electrifying, claiming every inch of you.
“Say it,” Chaewon murmured against your lips, her voice breaking with emotion. “Please.”
The word slipped out before you could stop it, barely a whisper, but enough. “Yours.”
Anna’s breath hitched, her eyes gleaming with triumph as she pressed herself against you, her lips brushing against your ear. “Forever,” she whispered, her voice trembling with something deeper than desire. “Forever and ever.”
