frusky-fruzkers

h0nk

[flakeyfrusters]

I think you'd like this story: "Day In A Life As A Private Chef of BINI" by bushwackerrr on Wattpad https://www.wattpad.com/story/414358993?utm_source=android&utm_medium=com.tumblr&utm_content=story_info&wp_page=story_details_button&wp_uname=bushwackerrr

I only applied to be their private chef. Cook their meals. Keep their kitchen in order. Stay professional. But living under the same roof as

[flakeyfrusters]

I think you'd like this story: "Day In A Life As A Private Chef of BINI" by bushwackerrr on Wattpad https://www.wattpad.com/story/414358993?utm_source=android&utm_medium=com.tumblr&utm_content=story_info&wp_page=story_details_button&wp_uname=bushwackerrr

I only applied to be their private chef. Cook their meals. Keep their kitchen in order. Stay professional. But living under the same roof as

[hantheelf]

~Idol Masterlist~

For those who want to jump straight into the smut: Choose your idol, dive in, use protection.

For those interested in the plot, check the Story Masterlist and enjoy the ride.

Twice 🍭

TPT 01 | We Pray - Momo

TPT 02 | Quality Check - Jihyo

TPT 03 | Date Night - Tzuyu

TPT 05 | Something Unexpected - Nayeon

TPT 06 | Sharing Is Caring - SaMo ft. Tzuyu

TPT 07 | Be Kind (or not) - Dahyun ft. IU

TPT 09 | Tight Present - JiTzu

TPT 11 | Hidden Intentions - Mina

TPT 12 | Peace Offering - MiChaeng

TPT 13 | Patching Up - 2Yeon

TPT 14 | All For One - IU / OT9

TPT 14.1 | Patience and Teasing - MiNayeon

Itzy 👑

TPT 08 | Highly Recommended - OT5

TPT 10 | Spoiled - Ryeji

Breaking Point - Yeji

IU 🐣

TPT 04 | Birthday Blessings

BTHY Pt1 - Cards on the table

BTHY Pt2 - Consummation

TPT 07 | Be Kind (or not) [featured only]

TPT 14 | All For One - IU / Twice (OT9)

Somi 🍒

Do You Regret It?

The next ones are a hint of things I've outlined, or I already have clear ideas of what I'll write.

No ETA, just know these will happen eventually. In some instances, we won't see all of the group, just a few members.

Red Velvet

Aespa

Dreamcatcher

NMIXX

I-dle

[whammiedfics]

The Calculated Bloom

Itzy Yeji x Male Reader

The bass thrummed through the floorboards of the club, a physical vibration that resonated in Yeji’s chest, syncing with the frantic beat of her heart. The air was thick with the scent of spilled vodka, expensive cologne, and the musk of too many bodies pressed together in the humid darkness. Neon lights strobed in erratic patterns, painting the writhing crowd in flashes of electric blue and hot pink. Yeji was lost in it, a willing participant in the chaos, her body moving to the rhythm, her inhibitions dissolving with every sip of the sweet, lethal cocktail in her hand.

She was celebrating. A minor milestone at work, a personal victory, but mostly, it was an excuse to let go. To forget the careful control she maintained in her daily life, the polite smiles, the professional demeanor. Here, she was just Yeji, a woman in a short black dress that hugged her curves, her dark hair cascading over her shoulders, her eyes bright with a reckless spark.

And beside her, always beside her, was him. Her best friend. The boy she’d known since they were kids, the one who’d held her hand when she scraped her knee, who’d listened to her teenage heartbreaks, who was now a man with broad shoulders and a quiet intensity that drew her in like a moth to a flame. Tonight, he was different. He’d been watching her all night, his dark eyes tracking her every move, his hand resting on the small of her back with a possessiveness that was new, thrilling.

They were dancing, their bodies moving in sync, the space between them charged with an electricity that had been building for years, a slow burn that had finally reached its flashpoint. His hands were on her hips, guiding her, pulling her closer until there was no space left between them. She could feel the hard planes of his chest against her back, the heat of his body searing through the thin fabric of her dress.

“You’re killing me in that dress,” he murmured, his breath hot against her ear, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down her spine.

She turned in his arms, facing him now, her hands sliding up to rest on his shoulders. “Good,” she whispered, a playful smirk on her lips. “That’s the point.”

His eyes darkened, his gaze dropping to her lips, then back up to her eyes. The noise of the club faded into a distant hum, the crowd melting away until it was just the two of them, caught in a bubble of their own making. He leaned in, his lips brushing against hers in a kiss that was soft at first, tentative, testing the waters. But then she responded, her mouth opening to his, and the kiss deepened, becoming hungry, desperate.

He tasted of whiskey and something uniquely him, a flavor she had known for years but was only now allowing herself to truly savor. His hands moved from her hips to her waist, then up her back, pressing her flush against him. She could feel his arousal, hard and insistent against her stomach, and a fresh wave of heat pooled low in her belly.

When they broke apart, both were breathless. The music had changed, a slower, more sensual beat taking over. He didn’t let her go, instead pulling her closer, his arms wrapping around her waist as they swayed to the rhythm. His lips found her neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin just below her ear, and she gasped, her head falling back against his shoulder.

“We should go,” he said, his voice rough. “Now.”

She nodded, unable to speak, her body screaming for more. They pushed through the crowd, his hand never leaving hers, a lifeline in the chaos. The cool night air hit them as they stepped outside, a stark contrast to the heat of the club. A taxi was waiting, and they slid into the backseat, their bodies still pressed together.

The ride to her apartment was a blur of whispered words and wandering hands. He kissed her again in the taxi, his hand sliding up her thigh, his fingers tracing the edge of her dress. She moaned into his mouth, her own hand moving to cup him through his jeans, feeling the hard length of him.

By the time they stumbled into her apartment, they were both desperate. The door clicked shut behind them, sealing them in their own world. He pushed her against the wall, his body pinning her there as he kissed her with a ferocity that left her dizzy. His hands were everywhere, unzipping her dress, pushing it off her shoulders, letting it pool at her feet. She stood before him in just her lace panties and heels, her breasts heaving with each breath.

He stepped back for a moment, his eyes drinking in the sight of her. “God, Yeji,” he breathed. “You’re perfect.”

She reached for him, pulling him back to her, her fingers fumbling with the buttons of his shirt. He helped her, tearing it off over his head, then working on his jeans. They fell to the floor in a heap, and he stood before her, gloriously naked, his cock hard and thick, a drop of pre-cum glistening at the tip.

She dropped to her knees without thinking, her mouth watering at the sight. She took him into her mouth, her tongue swirling around the head, tasting the salty essence of his arousal. He groaned, his hands tangling in her hair, guiding her movements. She took him deeper, her throat relaxing to accept him, her cheeks hollowing with each suck.

“Fuck, Yeji,” he gasped, his hips bucking gently. “Your mouth… it’s incredible.”

She pulled back, letting him slip from her lips with a wet pop, then stood up, leading him to the bedroom. She lay back on the bed, spreading her legs for him, her panties still on. He crawled over her, his body covering hers, his weight a comforting pressure. He kissed her again, his hand sliding down her stomach to the waistband of her panties. He hooked his fingers in them and pulled them down slowly, his eyes never leaving hers.

When she was completely bare, he kissed his way down her body, his lips tracing a path from her neck to her breasts, taking one nipple into his mouth and sucking gently, then harder, until she was writhing beneath him. He moved lower, his breath hot against her skin, until he was between her legs.

He parted her folds with his fingers, his tongue finding her clit with unerring accuracy. He licked her slowly at first, then with more urgency, his fingers sliding inside her to curl against her G-spot. She cried out, her hands gripping the sheets, her hips lifting off the bed to meet his mouth. The pleasure built quickly, a tight coil in her belly, and she came with a scream, her juices flooding his mouth.

He drank her down, then rose up, his lips glistening with her essence. He kissed her, letting her taste herself, then positioned himself between her legs. His tip pressed against her entrance, and he looked into her eyes, a silent question.

“Please,” she begged, her voice hoarse. “I need you inside me. Now.”

He pushed forward, entering her in one smooth, deep thrust. She gasped, her back arching as he filled her completely, his length stretching her walls, his balls slapping against her. He was big, and she was tight, the sensation overwhelming.

He began to move, his thrusts slow and deep at first, then building in speed and intensity. Each stroke hit deep, his tip grazing her cervix, sending jolts of pleasure through her body. She met his thrusts with her own, her hips rolling back to meet him, their bodies slapping together in a wet, rhythmic beat.

“Fuck, Yeji,” he groaned, his hands gripping her hips. “You feel so good. So tight.”

She moaned, her head falling back, her hair spreading across the pillow. The pleasure was building again, a wave that threatened to consume her. He reached around her, his fingers finding her clit, rubbing it in tight circles as he thrust into her.

“Come for me,” he growled, his voice low and commanding. “Come on my cock.”

His words pushed her over the edge. Her pussy clenched around him, her walls milking his length as she came again, her juices flooding his cock. He didn't stop; he kept thrusting, his pace becoming more frantic, more desperate.

He pulled out suddenly, spinning her around to face away from him. He lifted her onto her hands and knees, entering her from behind. This angle allowed him to go even deeper, his tip pressing against her womb, her cervix opening slightly to accept him. She could feel him everywhere, filling her completely.

He fucked her hard and fast, his thrusts powerful and deep, each one driving into her with a force that made the bed creak. The headboard slammed against the wall, a steady, pounding rhythm that echoed through the room. Sweat dripped from his brow, his muscles straining as he fucked her with a raw, animalistic intensity.

She could feel the tension building in his body, the telltale signs of his impending release. She pushed back against him, her hips meeting his thrusts with equal fervor.

“Give it to me,” she whispered, her voice hoarse. “Fill me up. I want to feel you come inside me.”

He let out a guttural roar, his body tensing as he buried himself to the hilt inside her. She felt the first hot spurt of his seed, a thick, warm liquid flooding her channel, coating her walls, filling her womb. He came in long, powerful spurts, each one accompanied by a groan of pure pleasure. He continued to thrust shallowly, milking every last drop from his cock, ensuring his seed was deposited as deep as possible.

The sensation of his hot seed filling her, the knowledge that he was filling her with his essence, sent her into a third orgasm, her body trembling beneath him. She cried out, her pussy clenching around him, pulling his seed deeper, her cervix sealing around the head of his cock to keep it inside.

He collapsed on top of her, his weight a comforting presence, his breath ragged against her neck. They lay there for a long moment, their bodies still joined, his seed slowly leaking from her onto the sheets.

When he finally pulled out, a trail of thick, white fluid followed, dripping down her inner thigh. He rolled onto his back, pulling her with him so she was draped across his chest. She could feel his heart pounding against her ear, a steady, reassuring beat.

“That was…” she breathed, her voice still shaky. “Incredible.”

"Fuck," he murmured, his voice rough, breaking the silence. "That was... I don't even have words."

She lifted her head, her hair a wild tangle around her face, and smiled lazily. "Good. I don't think I could handle words right now anyway."

He chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that vibrated through her body. He shifted, pulling her closer, his hand sliding down her back to cup her ass. "You okay? I wasn't too rough?"

She shook her head, nuzzling into his neck. "No. It was perfect. I needed that. I needed you."

They lay in comfortable silence for a long time, the only sounds being their breathing and the distant hum of the city outside. Eventually, he got up, disappearing into the bathroom. She heard the water running, and he returned with a warm, damp washcloth. He cleaned her gently, his touch tender and caring, wiping away the evidence of their night, his seed slowly leaking from her onto the sheets.

He climbed back into bed, pulling her into his arms. She nestled against him, his arms wrapped around her protectively. As she drifted off to sleep, she could still feel the phantom sensation of his cock inside her, the memory of his seed filling her womb.

*** Yeji’s POV

The morning after their night of passion, the sun filtered through the blinds, casting stripes across the rumpled sheets and the tangled limbs of the two figures entwined in the bed. Yeji woke first, her body deliciously sore, the memory of the night before flooding back in vivid detail. She felt the sticky wetness between her thighs, the lingering heat of his seed inside her, and a sudden, sharp spike of panic.

She slipped out of bed, careful not to wake him, and padded into the bathroom. She stood before the mirror, her reflection staring back at her, her hair a wild mess, her lips swollen from his kisses, her neck marked with the faint red marks of his stubble. She looked like a woman who had been thoroughly claimed, and indeed she had.

She opened the medicine cabinet, her eyes scanning the shelves until they landed on a small, unassuming box of birth control pills. She had been on them for years, a reliable safeguard against the very situation she now found herself in. She reached for the box, her fingers brushing against the cardboard, her mind racing.

She could take one now, the morning-after pill, a high dose of hormones that would prevent pregnancy. It was the responsible thing to do, the logical choice. She had a career to think of, a life that was already mapped out, a future that didn't include a baby right now. She could take the pill, erase what happened the night before, and pretend it never happened.

But as she stood there, the box in her hand, she hesitated. She thought of the way he had looked at her, the raw, unfiltered emotion in his eyes as he moved inside her. She thought of the way her body had responded to him, the way she had felt so complete, so right in his arms. She thought of the way her cervix had clenched around him, pulling his seed deep into her womb, as if her body knew something her mind didn't.

She thought of the life they could create together, a life built on years of friendship and love, a life that would be messy and complicated but ultimately beautiful. She thought of the baby, the tiny, fragile life that could be growing inside her right now, a product of their passion, their connection, their love.

With a steeled resolve, she decided to set the box of pills back on the shelf, her hands trembling. She closed the medicine cabinet, then looked in the mirror, reflecting her determined expression. She didn't take the pill. She chose not to. And in that choice, she had knowingly sealed her fate. She walked back into the bedroom, climbed back into bed, and curled up against him, her head resting on his chest. She could feel his heartbeat, steady and strong, and she knew, deep down, that this is where she was meant to be.

***

Six weeks later, the memory of that night had faded into a hazy, pleasant dream. Yeji had thrown herself back into her work, her schedule packed with fittings, meetings, and shoots. She was busy, successful, and trying her best to forget the strange, lingering connection with her best friend. They had agreed it was a one-time thing, a mistake born of too much alcohol and too many years of unspoken tension. They were back to being just friends, though the air between them was still charged with something unspoken.

But her body was telling a different story.

It started subtly. A wave of nausea that hit her in the middle of a meeting, forcing her to excuse herself to the bathroom. A fatigue so profound she felt like she was moving through molasses, even after a full night's sleep. Her breasts were tender and swollen, the lace of her bras suddenly feeling like sandpaper against her skin. And then, the most damning symptom of all: her period was late.

She had tried to ignore it, telling herself it was stress, that her body was just out of whack from the intense schedule. But the symptoms persisted, a nagging, insistent whisper in the back of her mind. Finally, on a rainy Tuesday evening, she found herself standing in the pharmacy aisle, her heart pounding as she picked up a pregnancy test. She paid for it quickly, her head down, avoiding the cashier's eyes, and hurried back to her apartment.

The bathroom was small and sterile, the fluorescent light buzzing overhead. She sat on the edge of the tub, the plastic test clutched in her hand, her knuckles white. She had followed the instructions carefully, her hands shaking as she set the timer on her phone. Three minutes. The longest three minutes of her life.

She stared at the test, her mind racing. If it was negative, she could breathe a sigh of relief, chalk it up to stress, and move on. If it was positive... her life would change forever. She thought of that night, the way he had come inside her, unprotected, multiple times. She remembered the feel of his hot seed flooding her channel, coating her walls, filling her womb. She remembered the way her body had seemed to welcome it, pulling it deeper, as if begging for it.

The timer on her phone beeped, a shrill, jarring sound that made her jump. She took a deep breath, her eyes squeezing shut, and then looked down.

Two pink lines. Stark, undeniable, life-changing.

She stared at the test, her mind going blank. The world seemed to tilt on its axis, the bathroom walls closing in. She felt a wave of dizziness, her stomach churning, but this time, it wasn't morning sickness. It was a sign that life has begun to take root in her womb.

She sank to the floor, her back against the tub, the test clutched in her hand. Tears of happiness streamed down her face, hot and silent. She was pregnant. She was pregnant with her best friend's baby. The man she had grown up with, the one who had held her through every heartbreak, the one who had just two weeks ago held her in his arms and promised to be there for her no matter what.

She didn't know how long she sat there, the test in her hand, her mind reeling. Eventually, she got up, her legs trembling, and walked back into the bedroom. She sat on the edge of the bed, the test still in her hand, and waited for him to come back home.

She didn't have to wait long. The front door opened, and he walked in, his keys jingling as he dropped them on the counter. He was in his work clothes, his hair damp from the rain, a worn but content look on his face. As he began to take off his wet jacket, he saw Yeji sitting on the bed, her posture rigid, and his expression shifted instantly.

"Yeji?" he asked, his voice laced with concern. "What's wrong? You look pale."

She didn't speak. She just held out the test, her hand shaking.

He crossed the room in two strides, taking the test from her hand. He stared at it, his eyes widening, his jaw tightening. He looked from the test to her face, then back to the test. The silence stretched between them, thick and heavy.

"Is it...?" he began, his voice rough.

She nodded, tears streaming down her face. "It's yours. That night... it was only you."

He set the test on the nightstand, his movements slow and deliberate. Then, he turned back to her, his hands coming up to cradle her face, his thumbs wiping away her tears. "Okay," he said simply, his voice steady. "Okay."

She blinked, surprised. "Okay? That's it? You're not... angry? Freaked out?"

He gave a small, wry smile. "Freaked out? Yeah, a little. But angry? No. Why would I be angry at you? This... this is us. We'll figure it out together."

The relief that washed over her was so intense it made her dizzy. She leaned into his touch, her forehead resting against his. "I was so scared," she whispered. "I didn't know how you'd react."

"I'm not going anywhere," he said, his voice firm. "We're in this together. You, me, and this little one." His hand drifted down to rest gently on her stomach, still flat, but holding the promise of their future.

She covered his hand with hers, their fingers intertwining. "What do we do now?"

He thought for a moment, his eyes thoughtful. "First, we get you to a doctor. Confirm everything; make sure you're healthy. Then... we talk about what comes next. Where we live, how we tell people... all of it. But we do it together."

She nodded, a fresh wave of tears threatening to fall, but this time, they were tears of relief, of hope. "Together," she repeated, the word tasting like a promise.

He leaned in and pressed his lips to hers, a soft, tender kiss that was nothing like the frantic, passionate one from that night. This was different—softer, deeper, filled with a new kind of love that was just beginning to bloom. When he pulled back, his eyes were shining with an emotion she couldn't quite name.

"I love you, Yeji," he said, his voice thick. "I've always loved you, in one way or another. This... this just makes it real."

She smiled through her tears, her heart swelling with a joy that was almost painful. "I love you too," she whispered. "I always have."

He kissed her again, this time with more urgency, his hands sliding down her back to pull her closer. The rain continued to fall outside, a steady, comforting rhythm, but inside the room, a different kind of storm was brewing—one of passion, of commitment, of a love that was about to be tested in ways they couldn't yet imagine.

He broke the kiss, his forehead resting against hers. "We should get some sleep," he murmured. "Big day tomorrow. Doctor's appointment, then maybe we can start planning."

She nodded, her body relaxing against his. "Okay."

He stood up, shedding his work clothes until he was down to his boxers, then climbed into bed beside her. He pulled the covers up over them both, his arms wrapping around her protectively. She nestled against his chest, her ear listening to the steady beat of his heart, a sound that had always been a comfort to her but now felt like an anchor in the midst of the storm.

As she closed her eyes, she felt his hand drift down to rest on her stomach again, his fingers splayed wide as if to protect the tiny life growing within. In that moment, with the rain pattering against the window and the warmth of his body surrounding her, she knew that no matter what lay ahead, they would face it together. Their friendship had evolved into something deeper, something stronger, and this unexpected pregnancy was the catalyst that had brought it all to light.

She drifted off to sleep with a smile on her face, her dreams filled with visions of a future filled with love, laughter, and the pitter-patter of tiny feet. The road ahead would be challenging, but with him by her side, she knew they could overcome anything. And as the first light of dawn began to creep through the curtains, painting the room in shades of gold, she felt a sense of peace settle over her—a peace that came from knowing she was exactly where she was meant to be, with the person she was meant to be with, carrying the greatest gift she had ever received.

The sterile scent of antiseptic and lemon floor cleaner hung heavy in the waiting room, a stark contrast to the warm, messy intimacy of the night before. Yeji sat on the edge of a padded chair, her hands clasped tightly in her lap, her knuckles white. She wore a loose-fitting sundress, the fabric soft against her skin, but it did little to hide the nervous tremor that ran through her body. Beside her, he sat with a quiet strength, his hand resting on her knee, his thumb tracing soothing circles against her skin.

He had barely slept, his mind racing with a thousand possibilities, a thousand fears, and a thousand hopes. But looking at Yeji now, seeing the vulnerability in her eyes, he felt a fierce protectiveness rise up inside him. He would be her rock, her anchor, no matter what the doctor said.

A nurse called her name, and Yeji stood up, her legs feeling like jelly. He stood with her, his hand never leaving her back, guiding her down the hallway to the examination room. The room was small and clinical, with an exam table covered in crinkly paper, a sink, and a few cabinets. Yeji sat on the table, the paper crunching beneath her, while he stood beside her, his hand still on her shoulder.

The doctor, a middle-aged woman with kind eyes and a gentle demeanor, entered the room, her clipboard in hand. She smiled at them both, her gaze lingering on Yeji with understanding.

"Good morning," she said warmly. "I'm Dr. Evans. I understand you're here for a pregnancy confirmation and initial assessment."

Yeji nodded, her throat tight. "Yes. I... I took a test at home. It was positive."

Dr. Evans nodded, her expression serious but reassuring. "Okay. We'll do a urine test here to confirm, and then we can do an ultrasound to see how far along you are and check on the baby's development. Does that sound okay?"

Yeji nodded again, her voice barely a whisper. "Yes. Please."

The doctor left the room to give Yeji privacy to provide a urine sample. When she returned, she set the sample aside and began the ultrasound. She applied the cold gel to Yeji's stomach, and Yeji flinched at the sensation, her hand instinctively reaching for his. He took it, his grip firm and reassuring.

Dr. Evans moved the transducer over Yeji's abdomen, her eyes fixed on the monitor. The room was silent except for the soft hum of the machine and the sound of their breathing. Yeji held her breath, her heart pounding in her chest.

Then, a sound filled the room—a rapid, rhythmic whooshing, like the beating of tiny wings.

"There's your baby's heartbeat," Dr. Evans said softly, her eyes shining. "Strong and steady. You're about six weeks along, Yeji. Everything looks perfect."

Yeji let out a breath she didn't know she was holding, tears streaming down her face. She looked at the screen, where a tiny, flickering shape pulsed with life. It was real. It was really happening.

He squeezed her hand, his own eyes wet. "Six weeks," he repeated, his voice thick with emotion. "That's... that's from that night."

Dr. Evans smiled, her gaze understanding. "It's a beautiful thing," she said. "Now, let's talk about your health and what to expect over the next few months. I'll give you some prenatal vitamins and some literature on nutrition and exercise. You'll need to schedule regular appointments, and we'll monitor the baby's growth closely."

Yeji listened intently, her hand still clasped in his, absorbing every word. She felt a strange sense of calm settle over her, the fear replaced by a quiet determination. This was her life now, and she would embrace it fully.

After the appointment, they walked out of the clinic hand in hand, the sun shining brightly overhead. They stopped at a café, ordering two coffees and a pastry to share. Yeji watched as he ordered a decaf for her without even asking, a small gesture that spoke volumes.

"So," he said, taking a sip of his coffee. "Six weeks. That's... manageable."

She nodded, a small smile playing on her lips. "Yeah. We have time to figure things out."

They spent the rest of the day talking, planning, and dreaming. They discussed telling their families, looking for a new place to live, and how to balance her career with motherhood. He suggested she call her manager, explain the situation, and negotiate a modified schedule. He offered to fly to Japan with her, to be her support system. They decided to wait until she was further along to tell the agency, to avoid any unnecessary drama.

As the day wore on, Yeji felt a sense of calm settle over her. The dilemma was still there, a weight in her chest, but it was no longer paralyzing. With him by her side, she felt capable of facing anything.

That evening, they returned to her apartment, the small space that held so many memories. They curled up on the couch, a blanket draped over their legs. He was reading a book, and she was scrolling through her phone, looking at potential baby items. She felt a flutter in her stomach, a tiny, almost imperceptible movement. She froze, her hand going to her belly.

"Did you feel that?" she whispered, her eyes wide.

He looked up from his book, his brow furrowed. "Feel what?"

She placed his hand on her stomach. "There. Again."

He waited, his eyes fixed on her belly. A moment later, he felt it too—a soft, butterfly-like flutter. His eyes widened, a look of awe spreading across his face. "Oh my god," he breathed. "That's... that's our baby."

Tears streamed down Yeji's face, but this time, they were tears of joy. She covered his hand with hers, their fingers intertwining. "We can do this," she said, her voice firm. "We can do both. My career, our family. We can make it work."

He kissed her then, a kiss that was deep and full of promise. "Yes, we can," he murmured against her lips. "We can do anything together."

Later that night, they made love again, this time with a renewed sense of purpose. The sex was slower, more intentional, each thrust a promise, each kiss a vow. He entered her gently, his movements careful but deep, his tip grazing her cervix, his seed filling her womb. They came together, their bodies shuddering in unison, their futures intertwined with the life they were creating.

As they lay in each other's arms, the city lights twinkling outside the window, Yeji knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, they would face them together. Her career might be in question, but her future was certain, built on love, trust, and the tiny life growing inside her. The dilemma was not a dead end; it was a crossroads, and with him by her side, she was ready to choose the path forward.

**9 months later

The air in the delivery room was thick with the scent of antiseptic, sweat, and the metallic tang of blood, a stark contrast to the sterile, sunlit clinic where it had all begun. Yeji lay on the hospital bed, her body drenched in perspiration, her hair plastered to her forehead in damp, dark strands. The contractions had been coming in waves for hours, each one a crushing, suffocating pressure that radiated from her lower back and wrapped around her abdomen like a vice. She gripped the rails of the bed, her knuckles white, her breath coming in ragged, shallow gasps.

He was right there, his hand clamped around hers, his face pale but his eyes steady, fixed on her with unwavering devotion. He had been with her through every contraction, every scream, every moment of agony, his voice a constant, soothing presence in the chaos.

"You're doing amazing, Yeji," he murmured, his thumb stroking the back of her hand. "Just a little longer. You're so strong."

She squeezed her eyes shut, a guttural moan escaping her lips as another contraction seized her, more intense than the last. The pain was a living thing, a beast tearing through her, demanding release. The monitor beside the bed beeped steadily, the baby's heartbeat a rapid, rhythmic drumbeat against the silence.

"Okay, Yeji," the midwife said, her voice calm and authoritative as she checked the monitor. "You're fully dilated. It's time to push. On the next contraction, I want you to bear down with everything you've got."

Yeji nodded, her jaw clenched, her body trembling with effort. She felt the pressure building, a tidal wave of pain and urgency, and she let out a raw, primal scream as she pushed with all her might, her body arching off the bed. He held her up, his arms wrapped around her shoulders, his own muscles straining as he supported her weight.

"Good! That's it!" the midwife encouraged. "Keep pushing! You're almost there!"

Yeji pushed again, her vision blurring, her world narrowing to the pain and the pressure and the desperate need to get this baby out. She could feel the baby moving down, the head crowning, stretching her to the limit. The pain was excruciating, a burning, tearing sensation that made her scream louder, her voice echoing off the sterile walls.

"Almost there!" the midwife called out. "One more big push!"

Yeji gathered every last ounce of strength she had, her body convulsing with the effort. She pushed with a force that felt like it might split her in two, and then, suddenly, the pressure released. A rush of fluid and warmth flooded out, and a second later, a thin, wailing cry pierced the air.

The midwife caught the baby, her hands swift and sure, and immediately placed the tiny, squirming bundle on Yeji's chest. Yeji looked down, her tears mixing with the sweat on her face, and saw a tiny, red, wrinkled face, a shock of dark hair, and eyes that blinked open, staring up at her with a look of profound wonder.

"It's a girl," the midwife announced, her voice thick with emotion. "A beautiful, healthy baby girl."

Yeji sobbed, her body shaking with relief and joy. She traced the baby's cheek with a trembling finger, her heart swelling with a love so fierce it stole her breath. She looked up at him, his eyes wet with tears, his face transformed by awe.

"She's perfect," he whispered, his voice cracking. "You're perfect."

He leaned down, kissing Yeji's forehead, then the baby's head, his touch gentle and reverent. The room seemed to fade away, the beeping monitors, the medical staff, the sterile environment, all of it dissolved into the background, leaving only the three of them, a new family bound by love and the miracle of birth.

The midwife cleaned the baby and wrapped her in a soft blanket, handing her back to Yeji. Yeji cradled her daughter against her chest, feeling the tiny heartbeat against her own, the warmth of her body seeping into her skin. She looked at the baby's face, memorizing every feature, the curve of her nose, the shape of her lips, the way her tiny fingers curled around Yeji's thumb.

"What should we name her?" he asked softly, his hand resting on Yeji's shoulder.

Yeji thought for a moment, her mind clear for the first time in hours. She had thought about names throughout the pregnancy, but now, looking at her daughter, the right name felt obvious, inevitable.

"Hana," she said, her voice soft but certain. "Hana means 'flower' in Korean. She's our little flower, blooming in the midst of all this chaos."

He smiled, his eyes shining. "Hana," he repeated, the name tasting like a promise on his lips. "It's perfect."

They spent the next few hours in a haze of bliss, bonding with their daughter, introducing her to the world. Nurses came and went, checking vitals and offering advice, but Yeji and he were in their own universe, focused solely on the tiny life they had created.

As the sun began to set, casting a golden glow through the hospital window, Yeji lay back against the pillows, Hana nestled against her chest, sleeping peacefully. He sat in a chair beside the bed, watching them both, a look of profound contentment on his face.

"You know," he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. "I was scared. I didn't know if I could do this, if I could be the father she deserves. But looking at her now, looking at you... I know I can. I know we can."

Yeji looked at him, her eyes soft with love. "We were always meant to be a family," she whispered. "This just made it official."

He leaned forward, his lips meeting hers in a tender kiss, a seal on their new beginning. As they pulled apart, Hana stirred in her sleep, letting out a soft coo, and they both smiled, their hearts full.

The night deepened, and the hospital quieted down, the only sounds the soft hum of machinery and the gentle breathing of their daughter. Yeji closed her eyes, feeling a profound sense of peace settle over her—a peace born of love, struggle, and the incredible journey that had brought them to this moment. She knew that the road ahead would have its challenges, that her career would need to be balanced with motherhood, that life would throw obstacles in their path. But with him by her side, and Hana in her arms, she felt invincible, ready to face whatever came next, together.

The morning sun filtered through the sheer curtains of the suburban home, casting a soft, golden glow across the living room. It was a different light than the harsh fluorescence of the hospital, warmer, more lived-in. Four years had passed since Hana’s birth, and the apartment in the city had been traded for a house with a yard, a quiet street, and the sound of children playing nearby.

Yeji sat at the kitchen island, a cup of herbal tea steaming in front of her, her laptop open to a script she was reviewing. She was no longer the frantic, famous idol struggling for recognition; she was a respected actress, a mother, a woman who had learned to balance the fierce ambition of her career with the quiet demands of motherhood. She wore a simple silk robe, her hair tied back in a loose bun, her face devoid of makeup, yet she possessed a radiant beauty that came from within.

From the living room, the sound of giggling erupted, followed by the thud of small feet on hardwood floors. Hana, now a bright, energetic four-year-old, burst into the kitchen, her dark hair flying, her face smeared with the remnants of breakfast. She wore a pink tutu over her pajamas, a plastic tiara askew on her head.

"Mommy! Look at me! I’m a princess!" she declared, striking a pose, her hands on her hips.

Yeji looked up from her script, a smile spreading across her face. "I see that, Princess Hana. What are you ruling over today?"

"The living room!" Hana announced proudly. "And Daddy is my royal horse!"

A moment later, he entered the kitchen, crawling on his hands and knees, a wide grin on his face. He wore a sweatshirt and sweatpants, his hair slightly disheveled. He looked up at Yeji, his eyes twinkling.

"Your Highness," he panted, his voice mock-serious. "The royal horse is ready for his command."

Hana climbed onto his back, gripping his shoulders. "Giddy-up, horsey! To the castle!"

He crawled out of the kitchen, Hana bouncing on his back, her laughter echoing through the house. Yeji watched them go, her heart swelling with a contentment that was almost painful. This was her life now, a life she had never planned for but now couldn't imagine living without.

She closed her laptop, the script forgotten for the moment, and followed them into the living room. She found them collapsed on the rug, Hana curled up on his chest, both of them breathing heavily, their faces flushed with exertion and joy.

"Is the royal horse tired?" she asked, kneeling beside them.

He looked up at her, his gaze softening. "Exhausted. But happy."

Hana lifted her head, her eyes bright. "Mommy, can we go to the park today? Please? I want to swing!"

Yeji nodded, brushing a stray hair from Hana's forehead. "Of course, sweetie. After we get dressed."

The day unfolded in a comfortable, familiar rhythm. They went to the park, pushing Hana on the swings until her laughter rang through the air. They bought ice cream, Hana’s face covered in chocolate, and they walked hand-in-hand back to the house, the three of them a picture of domestic bliss.

Later that afternoon, Yeji found herself alone in the bedroom, changing out of her clothes. She caught a glimpse of herself in the full-length mirror, her body softer now, her curves more pronounced, the marks of motherhood etched into her skin. She ran a hand over her stomach, tracing the faint stretch marks, the physical evidence of the life she had carried and birthed.

She thought back to that night, the night that had changed everything. The reckless passion, the unprotected sex, the decision not to take the morning-after pill. It had been a gamble, a leap of faith, and it had led her here, to this moment of perfect, quiet happiness.

The door opened, and he walked in, closing it softly behind him. He came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist, his chin resting on her shoulder. They looked at their reflection together, a family of three, their lives intertwined in the most beautiful way.

"You're beautiful," he murmured, his lips brushing against her ear.

She leaned back against him, her eyes closing. "We did good, didn't we?"

"We did amazing," he replied, his hand drifting down to rest on her stomach, just as he had done that first night in the hospital. "Hana is incredible. And you... you're the heart of it all."

She turned in his arms, facing him, her hands coming up to cup his face. She looked into his eyes, the eyes of the man who had been her best friend, her lover, the father of her child, and now her husband. They had married quietly a year after Hana's birth, a small ceremony with just family and close friends.

"I love you," she whispered, the words simple but heavy with meaning.

"I love you too," he replied, his voice thick with emotion. He leaned in and kissed her, a slow, deep kiss that spoke of years of shared history and a future yet to be written.

As they pulled apart, the sound of Hana's voice drifted up from the living room, calling for them to come and see a drawing she had made. They smiled at each other, a silent agreement passing between them, and headed downstairs, ready to face whatever the next chapter of their lives would bring, together.

[kpoplustzone]

Slow Corruption - TZUYU

OC X TZUYU {26K WORDS} - CHAPTER 2

Tzuyu walked down the quiet side street toward her favorite hidden café, the early February morning air crisp against her skin.

She wore her usual disguise: a plain black face mask pulled high over her nose, a loose gray hoodie with the hood up to shadow her sharp features, oversized sunglasses even though the sun had barely risen, and baggy black joggers that still managed to hint at the long, toned legs beneath. Her steps were measured and graceful—years of ballet training made even her casual walk look effortlessly elegant—but she kept her head slightly lowered, her shoulders relaxed yet alert. She knew better than to draw attention.

People passed her without a second glance, which was exactly how she liked it. At 5'10" with a body sculpted by relentless dance practice and disciplined meals, she turned heads even when she tried to disappear. The mask hid her full lips and high cheekbones, and the hoodie swallowed her narrow waist and subtle curves, but nothing could completely erase the way her hips swayed with natural rhythm or how her long legs ate up the pavement in smooth strides. She was prey that didn’t know she was already being hunted.

From across the street, half-hidden behind the tinted window of a parked black SUV, Zion T watched her.

He leaned back in the driver’s seat, one arm draped casually over the steering wheel, eyes tracking every movement through dark sunglasses of his own. He’d arrived twenty minutes early—Chaeyoung’s intel had been precise: Tzuyu always left the dorm at 7:15 a.m. sharp on weekdays, walked the same route, and arrived at this exact café by 7:32. She ordered an iced Americano, no sugar, sat in the far corner booth with her back to the door, opened whatever paperback she was reading that week, and stayed exactly fifty-two minutes before heading to her private yoga studio three blocks away.

He already knew the book in her bag today: a slim Korean translation of Haruki Murakami’s Norwegian Wood. Chaeyoung had texted him the title at 6:58 a.m. with a single crying emoji.

Tzuyu pushed open the café door. The bell chimed softly. She stepped inside, shoulders dropping a fraction as the familiar smell of roasted beans wrapped around her. The barista—young, bored, and never recognizing her—nodded without looking twice. She ordered in a quiet voice, paid with cash, and carried her tall plastic cup to the corner booth. She slid back to the entrance, pulled her book from the tote, and disappeared into the pages.

She had no idea the predator had already marked her scent.

Zion T stayed in the car another five minutes, letting her settle. He watched through the café window as she crossed one long leg over the other, the joggers stretching taut over her thigh. Even from here, he could see the elegant line of her neck when she tilted her head to read and the way her fingers absently tucked a loose strand of dark hair behind her ear. Innocent. Untouched. Silent.

Link

He smiled—slow and predatory.

In his mind, he already saw it: one month from now, that same graceful body sprawled across his bed, legs spread wide, knees hooked over his elbows. Her mask is gone. Sunglasses forgotten. Hoodie and joggers in a careless pile on the floor. That perfect, untouched pussy stretched obscenely around his thick cock, glistening, clenching, and dripping as he fucked her slowly at first—teasing, corrupting—then hard, relentless, and pounding until her quiet composure shattered into desperate, broken moans.

He imagined her eyes—usually calm and distant—wide and glassy with lust, tears of overstimulation streaking her cheeks while she begged in a voice that had once been soft and reserved.

Full Story - Link

Shop - Link

Patreon - Link {Do not Use Apple Pay}

Chapter 1 - Chaeyoung - Link patreon link

[singaporefriednoodles]

JEJU HEAT: Chapter 20

ACT V: The Breaking Tide

Moonlight and Memory

Moonlight on water, skin on skin. A space reclaimed, a memory rewritten.

word count: ~20k Characters: Male Reader (OC: Minho) x ITZY Hwang Yeji

Intro | Masterlist Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

A/N: Pool, shower sex. Kdrama coded wetlook romance. Visually inspired by Romeo and Juliet (1996) and Tempted (2018) starring Red Velvet's Joy. Next up (Chapter 21): what 5 years of fucking looks like at its absolute peak, and Lia making an important decision.

[MINHO]

The pool was the only light left in the villa.

Everything else had gone dark. The kitchen, the living room, the hallway where laughter used to bounce between walls. The fight had turned the whole house off like a switch, room by room, until the only thing still running was the pool and its underwater glow and me standing at the edge of it.

The same pool, twelve hours since dawn. The overcast had burned off hours ago and the sky had opened into something indecent. Stars everywhere, thousands of them, the water catching them and holding them as trembling copies scattered across the surface alongside my own reflection.

The filter hummed underneath, steady and patient.

I'd walked back through the villa past three windows, three snapshots of damage I'd helped cause: Ryujin on the terrace with her arms wrapped around herself, Yuna on the floor with her face doing nothing, Lia at the kitchen counter with knuckles white around a phone she wouldn't look at. I'd kept walking, didn't slow down, because if I stopped at any one of those windows I'd have to open my mouth and I had nothing in it worth saying yet.

And now the pool again. The thing I'd told myself all day - show up, be present, stop letting the water decide - was still sitting in my chest where I'd put it. My feet graced the edge of the water, and there was nothing in my hands.

The stone was cold, my legs numb. Somewhere in the villa behind me, doors were closed and music was playing through earbuds and people were sitting with the wreckage of a fight that had cracked open something that had been pressurizing for years. I'd heard Yeji's pitched voice through the walls defending something she wouldn't name.

Defending me, probably.

I wanted to deserve that. The wanting was a hook behind my ribs, pulling toward the house, toward her. Except I'd touched someone else right here yesterday morning and I still hadn't figured out how to say it.

I heard her before I saw her. Bare feet on tile, that soft percussion of skin on stone, unhurried and deliberate. The sliding door had opened and closed so quietly I'd missed it, but the footsteps I knew. Five years of practice rooms and hotel hallways and 3 a.m. kitchen floors, and I could identify her walk blindfolded.

She was close, the air behind me changing temperature, warming by a degree, her body heat closing the distance before her arms did. Then contact. Her arms wrapped around my torso from behind, both of them sliding under mine, hands finding each other against my chest. Her forehead pressed between my shoulder blades, her nose against my spine, and then her breathing; slow and measured, the exhale of someone settling into a place they intended to stay. She didn't say anything, but my body knew this shape, had known it since a practice room floor and a girl who couldn't stop shaking.

The noise stopped. The three windows went dark. Ryujin's silhouette, Yuna's blank face, Lia's white knuckles - all of it dropped out of my head so fast the silence had weight.

What replaced it was the filter hum. Water lapping tile in small, patient intervals. Night insects threading the air with sounds so thin they were almost piercing. Her breathing against my back, slow and warm, fogging a small patch of skin between my shoulder blades that cooled each time she inhaled.

This. Just this.

I didn't turn around even though I deperately wanted to. Fuck, the instinct to see her was so automatic it took effort to override, my neck starting the rotation before I caught it and held. But turning would break whatever she was doing. Whatever she needed from this arrangement where she could press her face into me without having to show me hers.

So I stayed. My hands found her forearms and held them where they'd landed across my chest.

The pool glowed beneath my feet, the stars trembling on the water. Her heartbeat raced against my back, through my shirt, through skin. Her arms were trembling.

Minutes passed, maybe five, maybe fifteen. The night hummed while her breathing slowed against my back until it found the same rhythm as mine, two sets of lungs running the same program without consulting each other first. I held her forearms and she held my chest and neither of us said a word until she spoke.

"I said things," she whispered. Her voice small against my spine, vibration before sound. "To Ryujin. Things I can't -"

Her fingers tightened on my shirt. One small clench.

"She said I've changed. And she's right. I HAVE. I changed and I didn't - I didn't warn anyone." She took a breath. "I didn't ask if it was okay. I just did it. Because it felt right. Because YOU felt right. And now she's on the terrace and I'm here and I can't even fix it."

Her forehead pressed harder between my shoulder blades. Her hands stopped holding and started gripping. The words wouldn't stop.

I let them come. Honestly, I would have let her scream them. Twelve hours ago I’d been trapped in a nightmare watching a version of her try to scream without making a sound, her jaw trembling around silence while I drowned in it. This? This was the opposite. This was Yeji spilling over. Yeji refusing to edit. Yeji breaking the one damn rule she’d followed since trainee days: don’t burden them.

She was burdening me. Finally. And the weight of it felt like the only thing keeping me upright.

"And you've been - all day, Minho. All day. I saw it. The pool this morning - you thought I didn't notice but I noticed EVERYTHING. The way you held my hand at the kitchen counter and your fingers waited before they closed. A quarter of a second. Do you know I can feel that? Five years and I can feel when you hesitate. I FELT it."

My jaw went tight. She'd seen it. Of course she'd fucking seen it. The quarter-second delay I'd thought was invisible. She'd been reading my micro-responses since before either of us knew what we were doing.

Five years of that. I couldn't hide from her even when I tried.

"And I keep thinking - it's me. I'm the problem. I'm the weight." She pressed her face harder into my back. "I dragged you here. I put you in the middle of this mess and now there's a fight and it's all because I got greedy."

She stopped. Her breathing had gone ragged.

"I keep reaching for you. You know that, right? All day. Every time. Me reaching. And you catch me every time but I don't know if you're catching because you want to or because I'm not giving you a choice -"

My hands tightened around her wrists. Reflex, not thought.

"It's not you." The words came out rough. "Yeji. It's not -" The rest of the sentence died behind my teeth, and I tried again. "I heard the fight through the walls."

Her grip loosened by a fraction, taking it in.

"She's scared," I said. "And so are you. That's it. That's the whole fight."

"Neither of those things are your fault, Yeji."

Silence settled between us, the pool filling it back in with filter hum, water, insects. "I just -" Her voice cracked on the word, small and splintered, and then it stopped. She'd run out, nothing left but her breathing and her hands.

I turned my head just enough that my voice would reach her without my face. Her arms loosened the same moment I started to turn.

She came around me as I came around to her. Her hand trailed along my ribs as she moved, fingertips maintaining contact while the rest of her body repositioned. Like she needed to keep touching me the whole way or I'd disappear. I turned and she drifted and we met somewhere in the middle, face to face at the pool edge, the water glowing beneath us and the sky open above us and a breath of warm Jeju air between our chests.

The pool light hit her from below. I'd seen Yeji in a thousand kinds of light. Stage spots, practice room fluorescents, hotel lamplight, candlelight, the blue glow of her phone at 2 AM. This was different though. The teal radiance caught her from underneath, shadows falling upward, every line and angle of her reversed from what I knew. Her jaw sharper. Her cheekbones higher. Her eyes enormous, dark, wet at the edges. The cover-up hung translucent on her shoulders, the pool light travelling through the fabric and turning her silhouette into something half-visible, half-imagined.

I'd never get used to looking at her. Even after five years and counting.

Her eyes were dry. She'd held it through the fight, held it through the pour on my back, held it through everything she'd said in those five unbroken minutes. Her face had the set of someone who'd been clenching her jaw so long the muscles had forgotten how to release.

Then she saw my face.

Whatever I'd been wearing - the fear, the tenderness, the trying - it broke something in her that the fight hadn't reached. Her chin trembled first. Then her eyes filled fast, the moisture rising like water in a glass tipped past level, and the first tear spilled over before she could catch it. It ran down her cheek, catching the pool light, a bright wet trail that curved along the hollow under her eye and pooled at the corner of her mouth.

My thumb caught it on instinct, my hand cupping her jaw and catching the tear before it could change direction.

The backward tears, the empty eyes. It hit me without warning, nightmare-Yeji's face overlaid on this one, transparent and wrong, tears crawling upward while her mouth opened in a soundless scream. Then it was gone, blinked away. Because this tear was going down. Real gravity. Real physics. Real Yeji. Her eyes were full and bright and holding mine with a need so raw it nearly put me on the ground.

She was real. She was warm. The tear under my thumb was warm. Thank fuck.

I kissed where it fell. Her cheekbone, the wet salt path, the small hollow beneath her eye where the skin was thinnest and the pulse closest to the surface. I pressed my mouth there and held.

"I missed you." So quiet I almost missed it. Her mouth barely moved against my palm, the words warm and wet with salt.

My hand stayed on her face while her tears kept coming, silent and steady, tracking down over my fingers and wetting the heel of my palm. She let them.

"I've got you."

Her shoulders dropped half an inch, maybe less, the fight leaving her shoulders, her exhale long and shaky and honest. The pool glowed beside us, light rippling across the stone where we stood, her tears landing on my wrist, on my thumb, on the tile between our feet while the filter hummed and the stars held still.

My mouth was still on her cheekbone and I tasted salt, warmth beneath it, the faint mineral trace of her skin underneath. Her breath hitched when I didn't pull away.

She turned her head slightly, just enough that my lips slid from cheekbone to the corner of her mouth, the terrain changing from wet skin to the edge of something softer. Her lower lip brushed mine and the contact held.

Her hand came up to my face. Slow, certain, her palm fitting against my jaw the way it had fit against my chest minutes ago. Her thumb traced the line of my cheekbone. Her mouth found mine and I tasted more salt and then nothing but her.

She kissed me the way she danced, the way she did everything that mattered. With her whole body. Her hand on my jaw tightening, pulling me closer, deeper, her other arm wrapping around the back of my neck until the distance collapsed entirely. The tears were still wet on both our faces and she kissed through them.

Her weight shifted. I felt it before I understood it. A subtle release, her body drifting backward bit by bit, her hand on my face becoming less of a hold and more of a pull.

She broke the kiss but didn't pull away. Her forehead rested against mine, her breath warm and smelling of salt, her heels hovering just above the stone. She was vibrating with something. Nerves or adrenaline, I couldn't tell which.

Her eyes opened, wet and shimmering, catching the moonlight and reflecting it back at me. The glow turned her gaze into something luminous, something alive with the night itself, and for a moment, I forgot how to breathe.

"Do you trust me?" she whispered.

The echo hit me instantly. The beach at golden hour. Yesterday she’d asked if she could trust me with her heart, and I’d looked her in the eye and lied straight to her face. Now she was asking if I would do the same.

The answer was easy. Honestly, it was the only thing I had that hadn't been complicated by the last five years.

"I do."

She smiled against my mouth and leaned back.

Her heels left the stone. Her body tilted over the glowing water while her eyes stayed on mine, taking me with her.

Stopping her would have been easy. All it would’ve taken was a shift of my weight, a firmer grip, a word. My hands were on her waist, the stone steady under my feet, the moment suspended. Her hand on my face, her mouth parted, the pool light climbing up to swallow us both. But I wanted to see where she’d take me.

I didn’t hesitate.

I followed her over the edge.

Her palm cupped my jaw the entire descent, through the tilt, through the rush of air, through the impossible stillness before the crash. Her eyes found mine, a smile breaking just as the water surged up to meet us. That was all I had: her touch, her gaze, her grace, and and the quiet promise that I wasn’t falling alone before the world went white with sound.

Then the water hit, and the world shattered.

A wall of water erupted where we'd been standing, sheeting outward across the stone deck, slapping the base of the loungers, flooding the cracks between tiles. The sound was enormous, a single percussive BOOM that swallowed our voices and the filter hum and the insects and every quiet thing the night had been holding, replacing it all with the roar of water displacing air, the churning white chaos of two bodies breaking a surface that had been still for hours.

I hoped the splash reached the villa windows, the terrace, the dark rooms where people were trying to or pretending to sleep.

Then silence - total silence - underwater.

The world went teal and silver, every sharp edge softened, every surface blurred. Her hair floated upward in slow strands that caught the underwater lights and turned copper, bubbles streaming from our noses and mouths and tumbling toward the surface in silver chains. The cover-up billowed around her in slow motion, the fabric weightless, spreading like wings I hadn't known she had.

Her hand was still on my face. Underwater, the pressure was different, lighter, her fingers gentle against my jaw and holding me in the silence, in the suspended blue-green world where the villa and the fight and the guilt were all above us, on the other side of the surface, belonging to the air.

We broke through gasping.

Her laugh came first. A bright, shocked, involuntary sound that cracked the pool's silence wide open and bounced off the villa walls and the stone deck and the dark sky above us. She coughed water and laughed harder, her hair plastered flat against her skull, slicked back from her forehead, her whole face suddenly bare in a way that makeup and styling and years of idol training had taught her to avoid. All cheekbone and jaw and sharp wet eyes and a grin so wide it compressed her cheeks into something almost childish.

I was laughing too because I couldn't help it, from the shock of cold water after hours of hot silence, the absurdity of falling into a pool at midnight in the same swimwear we'd been wearing since afternoon.

She splashed me. A small, stupid, perfect splash with the heel of her hand, and the water caught the pool light and scattered it across my face in tiny prisms, and I grabbed her wrist and she shrieked.

Her hand was still in mine from when I'd grabbed her wrist. Her other hand found my chest underwater, fingers spreading against my shirt. We were close. Treading water, bodies bumping, her knees brushing my thighs. Her hair was slicked back and the water had turned her cover-up useless. The white fabric clung translucent to every surface it touched. Her shoulders, her collarbones, the flat plane of her stomach, and the brown bikini underneath were fully visible now, the triangles pressed tight to her chest, the string cutting sharp across her ribs. The pool light caught her from below and the wet cloth glowed against her skin, and I'd never actually seen this before. Yeji's body through water and fabric, more explicit than any of the hundreds of times I'd seen her with nothing on at all.

The pool light hid nothing. I was witness to all of her, the tear tracks drying on her cheeks, the mascara that the water had pulled into faint grey parentheses under her eyes, the precise moment her expression changed as the softness from the laughter drained away and something older and hungrier rose through it like heat through glass.

Her laughter faded to a smile, the smile fading to something else as her eyes dropped to my mouth, came back up, and she gave me a raw and direct look that had nothing tender left in it.

"Hi," she said softly, with water on her lips. Her voice had gone low, wrecked from laughter and tears and all the words she'd spent against my back.

I dropped my voice half an octave. Went for something smooth, something that matched the pool light and the wet hair and the moment. "Hey."

Except it came out as a croak. Somewhere between a trainee's voice crack at monthly evaluations and a variety show disaster. The pool water I'd inhaled chose that exact syllable to announce itself, the word breaking in half on the way out and dying in a register that hadn't existed since I was fourteen.

Her mouth twitched, then split open, and she laughed so hard she dipped underwater for a second, came back up sputtering, and the look she gave me when she surfaced was half wrecked, half starving. It was the most dangerous thing I'd ever seen on Hwang Yeji's face.

"Do - do that again," she said, her eyes bright, her voice steady in a way mine apparently couldn't manage.

I laughed, low and half-drowned, and her grin softened into something I'd never seen before. We were treading water a foot apart, the surface between us glowing. For a long moment neither of us moved to close the gap.

Five years and I could map Yeji's body in the dark. Every angle, every place that made her breath catch. But I'd never just looked at her, not like this. The pool kept us suspended, weightless, and I looked.

Her hair was darker wet, plastered against her skull in a way that should have been unflattering but wasn't. It stripped her face down to its barest. The sharp jaw, the high cheekbones, the cat eyes that usually cut through rooms, were now soft and wide and watching me with an expression I'd never been allowed to study this long. Water droplets sat on her eyelashes. The cover-up clung to her shoulders like a second skin, and where it gaped at the neck the line of her collarbone was visible, the hollow at the base of her throat where her pulse beat quick and steady.

Below that, the water had turned the fabric into a confession. It clung where her body pushed against it and drifted where it didn't. It hung tight across the firm set of her breasts, the bikini triangles pressed flat, the dark suggestion of her nipples through two layers of soaked cloth, floating at her waist, then catching again at the jut of her hips where the waterline cut across her body. Her stomach was visible through the wet fabric, dancer-flat, the ab lines I'd traced with my mouth in hotel rooms now rendered in light and translucent white, more devastating through cloth than every time I'd seen them bare. Water beaded on the skin above her collarbone and rolled down her chest in slow tracks that disappeared into the neckline of the cover-up, and I followed every single one.

She was beautiful. This was Yeji with mascara running and pool water in her ears and a grin still ghosting the corners of her mouth. This was Yeji being herself again.

"You're staring," she said quietly, her eyebrows lifting a fraction.

"Yeah."

"Again." The corner of her mouth twitched. "You did that at the beach too."

She was right. She was still wearing the same brown bikini, except it was underwater now instead of under sunlight. I'd stared then too, stared so openly she'd called me on it while Yuna yapped about sunscreen. That had been seconds, a glance before she'd rolled her eyes and the afternoon kept moving. This time I stopped, and stayed.

"I'm staring now."

Her chin dipped. The faintest flush climbed her neck, visible even in the teal light.

"Stop it."

"No."

Her foot found my shin underwater. A small kick, playful, but she left it there. Her toes rested against my calf, one point of contact in all that water.

"You look different," I said. "In the water. With the light."

"Different how?" she asked carefully.

"Like yourself."

She blinked slowly, her lips pressing together and then releasing as the flush deepened.

"That's -" she started, and stopped. Tried again. "That's a stupid thing to say."

"Probably."

She watched me for a second. Waiting, maybe, for me to defend it, or qualify it, or soften it into something that wouldn't land so hard. I didn't.

"I mean it. That's really dumb."

I let her circle. The water was patient and so was I.

"Yeah."

"You can't just SAY things like that when I'm treading water and can't -"

She didn't finish the sentence. Her hand found my forearm underwater. Her fingers wrapped around my wrist, loose and uncertain, nothing like the grip she'd had against my back or the controlled pull of the kiss.

"Like myself," she repeated.

The water pushed her toward me. Or she stopped treading enough to let it. Her knees bumped mine. Her hand tightened on my wrist. She was close enough now that individual water droplets were visible in the hollow above her upper lip, catching the pool light like tiny jewels.

"I want to say something," she said. "And I need you to not make a big deal out of it."

"...Sure."

"I mean it. Don't do the face."

"What face?"

"The attentive face. The one where you're LOOKING and I can see you doing it." She splashed water at me, weak. "It makes me want to punch you."

"I don't have a face like that."

"You have a face EXACTLY like that. You're doing it right now."

I rearranged my expression into something neutral. Based on her reaction - a snort, half-submerged - I didn't succeed.

The snort faded. She looked at me for a moment with an expression I couldn't read. The pool moved us gently in a circle. Neither of us spoke.

Then she took a breath and let it out, slow.

"You're -" The word came out differently than the ones before it. "You're beautiful. Ugh, I hate saying that out loud. It's actually a problem."

"A problem?"

"Yeah. Because I look at you and I forget to be mad."

I let the words settle on the surface of the water between us.

"Come here then," I said. My voice had recovered. No croak this time, thankfully, just low and rough and meaning it.

She stayed exactly where she was, a hand's width away. Her eyes locked on mine. "Make me," she whispered.

I drifted forward, closed the gap by half, and waited. My forehead touched hers. Her breath caught with a sharp, small intake that I heard over the filter, over the water, over everything. Our noses touched. Her lips were right there, close enough that the warmth of her exhale sat on my mouth, the humidity of her breathing mixing with the pool steam rising between us.

She closed the last inch, her mouth touching mine so gently it barely qualified as a kiss. It was more of a brush, a question, her lower lip between both of mine, soft and unhurried, her hand sliding from my wrist up my forearm to my shoulder while the pool cradled us in a gentleness neither of us had ever chosen on our own.

Her legs wrapped around my waist underwater in one smooth motion, her thighs locking against my hips, her weight settling into my arms while the buoyancy made her light. Her arms draped over my shoulders and her forehead pressed to mine.

We drifted, the slow current of the pool carrying us from the shallow end toward the deep. Her weight in my arms was nothing. The water supported most of her, and what it didn't I held with one arm under her thighs and one hand spread flat against the small of her back. Her fingers played with the wet hair at the nape of my neck. Light rippled across both of us from below, shifting planes along the underside of her jaw and the line of her throat.

The deep end found us and my feet left the bottom, the world becoming liquid as her weight redistributed, floating. Treading with her wrapped around me, her thighs tight against my hips, my arms were the only fixed thing in all that water. My hand spread flat against her back and the muscles there were extraordinary; a record of years, dense and defined under the wet fabric, shifting beneath my palm every time she adjusted her grip around my neck. Dancer's back, one she carried like it weighed nothing.

My hand drifted. My palm sliding from the small of her back down over the curve of her ass, fingertips trailing along the elastic edge of her bikini bottom where it cut across her hip. The water made everything slow. My fingers slipped beneath the edge of the bikini and found skin, the tight curve of her hip, the crease where her thigh began.

She exhaled against my mouth. A warm, unsteady breath that tasted like chlorine and carried a quiet sound inside it.

My fingers moved inward. Following the fabric. The bikini bottom was a thin triangle of nothing, the strings cutting sharp across her hips, and where the fabric met between her thighs the water had pulled it slightly aside already. My fingertips found the edge and followed it, knuckles brushing along the juncture of her thigh and hip, and then -

Different.

The pool water was warm but thin. This was thicker. Viscous. The kind of slickness that doesn't dissolve in water, that holds its consistency against the chlorine and the current, that coats instead of dilutes. My fingers slid through it and it clung to them, tacky and rich, unmistakable. She was soaked.

Her hips shifted when I touched her in a small forward roll, grinding into my hand, her thighs tightening around my waist. Her eyes were open, watching me, and the pool light lit her face from below so I watched the moment her pupils dilated, the iris contracting, the black expanding.

"You okay?" My voice had gone rough, leaving barely a voice behind.

"I answered you." Her gaze stayed locked on mine mine while her hips rocked forward again, pressing herself against my fingers slowly and deliberately. "Before you asked."

I realized I was hard, and probably had been since the forehead press, since her thighs locked around me. But seeing her like this, wet in both senses, her face open and flushed and wanting, made everything in my body reorganize around it. Her nipples were visible through the cover-up and bikini both, dark circles pressed against the wet cloth, pushing against the fabric each time she breathed. My cock ached against the inside of her thigh, pressed flat between our bodies by the water pressure. She shifted and the length of me dragged across the crease of her hip, across the place where her wetness had turned the water slippery, and the friction pulled a sound out of me that I couldn't have held back if I'd tried.

Yeji noticed.

She reached between us, her hand underwater finding me through my shorts and wrapping her fingers around my cock with easy confidence, freeing me with one quick tug at the waistband, the elastic slipping down my hips, and then her hand was on bare skin, stroking once, her palm sliding through the water and her own wetness mixed together.

Her thumb traced the underside of the head and my hips jerked while she watched my face the entire time.

She pulled the bikini aside with her other hand in a small, practiced motion, one finger hooking the fabric and dragging it clear of where we both needed it to go. Then she took me and pressed me against her, the head of my cock resting against her entrance, and the heat differential hit me like a wall. The pool was warm but she was molten, her lips parting around the tip, full and swollen and slick with that viscous arousal that the water couldn't touch, and she held me there, hovering, at the edge.

She rocked her hips forwards, dragging me along the length of her pussy, the head of my cock sliding through her folds, splitting them, spreading the slickness from her entrance up to her clit and back down once, twice, each stroke coating me in the heat of her and thinning the boundary between the pool's water and her body's, the head catching against her clit on the upstroke and drawing a breath out of her that was sharp and small and honest.

Then she sank.

The light from below followed her down. Every fraction of the descent painted across her face. Her jaw tightening, lips parting, the crease between her brows that meant she was concentrating with her whole body.

Inch by inch. The water slowed everything. Her body opened around me with the precise, unhurried confidence; she knew she controlled the pace as she always did. The heat enveloped me in stages; the tight ring of her entrance stretching around the head, gripping, then releasing just enough to let the shaft follow. Her walls closed around me, a grip so contoured it felt designed for exactly this shape, this angle, for me.

She stopped halfway, her forehead pressed to mine, her breathing ragged.

"There," she breathed, and then she took the rest in one slow roll of her hips that pulled me into the deepest part of her, the kind of depth where her pulse became tangible around my cock. The water resisted even this, trying to lift her off me, and she fought it with her thighs, squeezing my waist and using the leverage of her locked ankles to pull herself down the last inch. The angle was different than on land, the water tilting everything forward, her weight distributed across my arms instead of my hips, and the head of my cock pressed against the front wall of her pussy, her body's geometry rearranged by physics. The sound she made when she bottomed out was low and startled, like she'd discovered a depth that didn't exist on solid ground.

We stayed there, full and connected, floating in the deep end with nothing solid beneath us and every solid thing between us. Her walls pulsed around my cock in slow, involuntary contractions, her body adjusting to the fullness, muscles flexing the way a hand flexes around something it's determined to hold. Each pulse sent a current up my spine, my cock throbbing in answer and swelling inside her while the feedback loop of her grip tightening around my thickness tightening inside her grip blurred my vision at the edges.

Then my arms slipped.

Just an inch, maybe two, the water carrying her weight lower before I caught her again, my forearms burning to reset the position. But in that fraction of a second where gravity won and buoyancy lost, she sank onto me with momentum we hadn't built toward and her pussy seized around me like she'd grabbed the only solid thing left in the water. The grip was total and ruthless, every muscle from her entrance to the deepest part of her contracting in one unified spasm that crushed my cock so completely my vision whited at the edges. The pressure crossed some threshold where it stopped being pleasure or pain and became just pressure, absolute and obliterating.

She didn't say anything, and I didn't say anything. We held there while her walls pulsed in those deep contractions her body had defaulted to, my cock throbbing inside her in answer, both of us breathing hard against each other's mouths and neither of us moving.

I thrusted - or tried to. The water resisted, every forward push met by the liquid drag of the pool, slowing me, softening the impact, turning what would have been sharp on land into something rolling and heavy and deep. My hips moved and the water moved with them and against them, and the rhythm that emerged was slower than either of us would have chosen. The deep end insisted.

She matched me, then passed me. Her arms tightened around my neck and she used the hold as an anchor, pulling herself up and sinking back down, her hips doing the real work while I held us afloat. She was doing most of the moving now, using her core, her thighs, the grip of her arms around my neck as an anchor, riding me with a rolling fluidity that the water turned into something almost hypnotic. Each upstroke she rose until only the head stayed inside her, her walls dragging along the length of me with that tight, reluctant cling, and each downstroke she pulled herself back to the root with a controlled roll that took me so deep her breath stuttered.

Her head tipped back, chin lifting, eyes drifting closed, lips parting around a sound that started somewhere behind her ribs and climbed her throat in slow motion. The pool light painted the underside of her jaw, the long line of her neck, the hollow where her pulse hammered visible and fast. Her eyes rolled and for a second she was somewhere else entirely, the cat-eyed focus gone, replaced by a looseness I almost never saw on her. Yeji uncontrolled, Yeji letting her body overrule her brain.

"Fuck," she breathed. She'd aimed the word at the sky, not at me.

Her head came back down and her eyes found mine, the look in them wrecked and luminous. My hands tightened on her waist and I thrust up into her descent and the collision of our rhythms drew a gasp out of both of us, sharp and honest, echoing off the water.

The deep end kept its own time, refusing to let urgency win, insisting on a pace that left room for every sensation to register. The drag of her walls along my length on the outstroke, tight and reluctant, clinging. The molten slide back in, her body yielding and gripping simultaneously, the wanting winning so thoroughly that by the third stroke she was pulling me in before I'd finished pulling out.

"I woke up, Minho," she said suddenly, punctuating the trance.

Her voice was quiet, steady in the way that meant effort. Her arms around my neck, her body moving with mine in the water, and this sentence arriving as though the rhythm had unlocked something in her chest.

"I woke up and you weren't there."

A thrust. Slow, deep. Her breath catching on it, her words pausing to accommodate the sensation, then resuming.

"And I wanted - I wanted your arms. Around me." Her hips rolled down. My cock buried to the root. Her mouth pressed to mine for a second, barely a kiss, more like punctuation. "I wanted to be warm."

The bikini string slid back, the fabric edge catching against my shaft on the outstroke, the triangle of cloth trying to reassert itself between us. I reached down without thinking, one hand hooking it aside, but the water pulled it back. She snorted with a small, wet laugh against my cheek.

"Leave it," she said. "Let me finish -"

In the commotion my hips pulled back too far and I slipped out. The bikini snapped home like it'd been waiting for exactly this opportunity, the triangle snapping home before my cock had cleared the exit.

My hips hadn't gotten the update. The next thrust went into taut fabric, the head pushing the cloth inward an inch - maybe two - her pussy yielding behind it just enough to be cruel before the elastic made its ruling and ejected me sideways. The bikini bottom was the only participant in this encounter with boundaries.

"Oh, COME on -" Yeji reached between us, hooked the fabric with two fingers, yanked it clear, and guided me back inside with her other hand in one efficient, annoyed motion.

The relief of being inside her again after five seconds of fabric-imposed exile was so disproportionate it broke something in both of us. She laughed first, breathless and shaking, her body convulsing around me, her walls rippling with it in small pulses that had nothing to do with sex and everything to do with the accumulated ridiculousness of trying to fuck in a pool while a bikini played cockblocker. Each pulse gripped me and I groaned and she laughed harder.

"Stop laughing," I said, dead serious.

"I can't - YOU stop laughing. You're the one who -" She gasped. My hips had moved without permission, one deep thrust that the water slowed into something thorough, and the end of her sentence dissolved into a sound that was closer to music than words. Her fingers tightened in my hair.

I held the bikini aside with one hand and held her with the other and found the rhythm again. We moved slower now, the teal glow pulsing beneath us with each movement, ripples chasing across her skin wherever the water thinned between our bodies. The laughter had dissolved whatever ceremony was left in the act. Two people who couldn't touch the bottom, holding each other up, moving together while the water insisted on tenderness.

"I wanted you inside me." Her hips punctuated it with a downward roll that took me so deep I saw light at the edges of my vision. "I woke up and that's where my body went first. Before I opened my eyes. Before I thought about anything else."

I thrust into her. Long and slow, the water dragging against us, her walls pulling at me in that relentless grip, those trained muscles that milked without permission, each contraction a small tidal pull that drew me deeper than the thrust itself had managed.

"I love..." She stopped. Her breath caught. My heart shot into my throat. The pause held. "...having you inside me."

Fuck, she almost said it, I thought. And this time I'm not dreaming. I exhaled and just held her with one hand on her hip, with the other spread flat between her shoulder blades where her heartbeat pulsed through her spine.

"And I wanted you..." She trailed off, her rhythm faltering.

Words were failing her, so I used the only language we had left. I gripped her hips, anchoring her against the water's resistance, and drove upward. The glide was a thick, heavy drag of pool water mixing with her own slick heat, my cock pushing through the grip, gripping resistance of her walls. I stretched her open inch by deliberate inch, the wet slosh and slap of our bodies colliding echoing off the tiles as I bottomed out completely.

A sharp, fractured moan tore from her throat. "Mh!" she cried out, and she gripped the base of my neck even tighter, digging her nails into my skin.

The deep, grounding pleasure forced the air from her lungs, pushing the rest of the sentence out of her.

"... to be near me," she finally finished, so quiet the pool almost swallowed it.

I kissed her. Her mouth was there and the words were there and my body couldn't answer them so my mouth tried. I kissed her slow and deep, matching the tempo the water had chosen for us, and she kissed me back with frantic energy because she knew she'd said too much and was trying to crawl back to safe ground through physical contact.

"You weren't there," she said again, against my mouth, her voice different now, smaller. "Where did you go?"

The question hung in the warm air between our faces. My hips slowed, but neither of us sank, as if the universe was waiting for an answer first.

"Couldn't sleep."

I gave her the same answer I'd given her in the morning. She'd accepted it then. Now, wrapped around me in the deep end, she didn't.

"You keep saying that," she murmured, her thumb tracing the line of my jaw. "And I keep not asking because I don't like to be the person who pushes."

I gave her a thrust in response, her walls clenching around me on the downstroke, automatic, and we both exhaled. The rhythm continued at its water-dictated pace.

"But something's been sitting on you all day," she continued, her eyes searching mine. "Is it about last night?"

"Yeji -"

"Is it about Karina?"

My hips stuttered. Karina, the threesome Yeji had sanctioned against her own instinct. My cock was inside her and she was asking me about another woman, and the tenderness in her voice gutted me.

"Because something changed," she said. "After. With us." Her hips found a slow grind, barely moving, keeping us connected without chasing anything. "You were... careful. With me. Like you were handling something breakable. And I'm not -" She swallowed. "I'm not breakable, Minho."

"I know you're not."

Her forehead pressed harder against mine. "You've been looking at me different. Since last night." She paused. "Like you owe me something."

We floated in the question. Two bodies, zero ground. My cock pulsed inside her and her walls responded with an unconscious squeeze.

"The threesome was -" I started, stopped. Tried again. "I think it was supposed to be simple. You wanted to help her, right?" I looked into her eyes and pressed my nose against hers. "And then it wasn't."

"Since when has anything with us been simple?"

She had me there, and I almost laughed - almost - but her hips rolled down, taking me deep, and the laugh turned into a groan.

"That's not why I'm asking."

"Why then?" I asked, genuinely puzzled.

Her body stilled around me, her hips stopping their rhythm, leaving her walls holding me in that steady, encompassing grip, her eyes on mine, the pool light painting us both from below like we were inside a lantern.

"You didn't put your arms around me." Like it had been sitting on her tongue all day. "Last night. When you came back to bed. You just -" Her hips stayed still. "You ALWAYS do. Even when I push you away." She swallowed. "So I know something's wrong."

The edge hit harder than accusation would have.

"Even in Busan," she said, her voice quiet and careful the rare way she got when she was handling something she'd never said out loud before. "In the hotel. After I turned away from you and told you to just sleep." Her hips shifted, a slow grind, her body maintaining the connection while her voice went somewhere neither of us had gone. "You still put your arms around me."

I remembered. The rigid line of her back. The flinch when my arm crossed her waist. Every tendon fighting the instinct to lean into it, and I'd held still, barely breathing, giving her the option to pull away. She hadn't.

In that Busan hotel her face had been a silhouette against city neon. Now the water lit her from below and everything - the tremor in her chin and the wet shine gathering in her eyes - was visible.

"I know," I said simply.

"By morning I was holding your hand," she said, swallowing. "I never told you that."

She hadn't, but I knew that too. I'd woken up with her fingers laced through mine against her stomach, her grip tight even in sleep, and I'd never mentioned it either. Neither of us had, because you don't talk about the thing that kept you alive in the dark.

"I never forgot that," she said. "The arms. And last night was the first time they weren't there," and her breath shuddered. "And I was scared of losing -" Her voice cracked into fragments. "Losing the person who - the only person who ever made me feel -"

She stopped, her whole body stopping with her, breaking her rhythm, her breathing, her words. She was looking at me with an expression I'd never seen on her, more naked than any of the times I'd actually seen her naked. Her body still speaking even though her mouth had gone silent with small involuntary contractions where we were joined.

"Feel what," I encouraged, barely a whisper.

She kissed me again instead of answering. A hard, bruising kiss that tasted like chlorine and salt and the tears she'd cried earlier and whatever word she'd just swallowed. Her hips started moving again, urgent, her body choosing a pace the water couldn't fully argue with, and her pussy gripped me with ferocity.

She pulled back and pressed her forehead to mine. Her breath was coming in short, uneven gasps now, her body riding me with the same relentless focus she brought to everything that mattered.

"Real," she whispered. "You make me feel real."

The light held her there, her body tightening around me as she said it, squeezing me in rhythmic waves.

The words made my heart physically ache.

But she was here, with her arms around my neck, body open, legs locked.

"This is me," she said, her voice steady now, the fragments gone and replaced by something clear and settled. "This, right now, is me. Not the leader, or the persona, or whatever I am when I'm performing for everyone else." Her forehead pressed harder against mine. "And I'm - I'm terrified of losing the only place where I get to be her."

She swallowed, her eyes on mine and hiding nothing.

"And this isn't about -" She rolled her hips, slow, purposeful, taking me deep. "This. Bodies. Sex. We've both fucked other people. While being - whatever we are. That's not what scares me."

"I kept telling myself it was," she said, her voice dropping, quieter now and aimed at the water between us more than at me. "Just the sex. For years. Every time. Every morning after. I'd put my leggings on and do my hair and walk out the door and tell myself, that's all it is. That's all he is. Just - the sex."

Her breath caught on the last word.

"It wasn't just the sex," she said, looking up, her eyes wet and clear and furious with herself. "I don't think it was ever just the sex."

The words landed on the tile where Yuna had been. On the pool edge where Ryujin had spread her legs. On Karina's living room couch where Yeji had watched me fuck another woman and called it permission.

She meant it generally. I was hearing Yuna's name. Ryujin's name. Karina's. Crimes she didn't know about, stacking up behind her kindness like debt.

"How is that not what scares you?"

Her hips answered before her mouth did. A slow roll that took me deep, her walls gripping with the downstroke, holding, then releasing as she rose. She did it twice more before she spoke, like she was gathering the words from below.

"Because I watched you," she said, her eyes on mine - steady. "Last night. With Karina. I watched your face while you were inside her."

My stomach dropped.

"And you were -" She swallowed, though her rhythm didn't break. "You were good. Generous. The way you are with everyone. Which is why I -"

She caught herself. The sentence just stopped.

I felt her breath hitch against my cheek, felt the exact moment her walls clenched involuntarily around my cock like she was bracing for impact. She dropped her chin, refusing to look at me, and forced the rest of the sentence out sideways.

"- which is what I love about you."

Another roll, slower. The pool light caught the wet shine at her lashes. "But your eyes kept finding me. Every time you touched her, you checked. Like I was the thing you were measuring everything against."

Her thumb traced my jaw. Her hips maintained their unhurried claim.

"Karina told me something after, when you were in the bathroom," she said, exhaling. "She said you were doing it for me. All of it. That you came home the second you could."

I knew. I'd heard it through the door I'd left cracked open, standing at the sink with water dripping off my hands while Karina said exactly that. To her. To the girl I couldn't stop coming back to. And then Yeji's silence - the long one, the kind she does when something hits so hard she forgets how to respond. I'd stood there holding my breath, terrified a floorboard would give me away. Eavesdropping on the most important conversation of my life through a bathroom door I didn't have the guts to close.

Hearing it again now, from Yeji's mouth instead of Karina's, in the pool instead of through a bathroom door, made everything sharper. The lotus, the forehead press. The way I'd turned back to her the second it was over, like my body had a compass and she was north. Coming home - that's exactly what it was.

And she didn't know about the moments I hadn't.

“I shouldn’t have listened. Except I did. And it made everything worse and better at the same time.”

"That's when I understood," Yeji continued, her voice quiet and certain, "what you are to me." Her body drew tight around me, one long contraction that felt like emphasis. "You could fuck every girl on this island and you'd still come home. That's not what scares me."

My lungs emptied. Every pocket of air I'd been holding since dawn, since the nightmare, since the morning I'd fucked Yuna against this pool's shower wall and set the clock ticking on everything falling apart - one long exhale that left me hollow against her chest. She held me through it, her arms tightening around my neck, reading the shudder as emotion when it was something closer to verdict.

She'd just forgiven me for everything. Without knowing there was anything to forgive.

Every girl on this island. She'd said it like a hypothetical.

I was hearing it as a roster.

"It's about -" She stopped and started again. "You seeing me. The real me. The one I don't show anyone," she said, her thumb tracing my cheekbone. "You're where I feel like me."

Her hips kept going. Through all of it, the confessions, the memory of Busan, the word she couldn't finish and the ones she finally could, her body had maintained its slow, rolling claim on mine. Her thighs tightening against my waist, the rhythm so deep in her muscle memory it didn't need her attention to continue. There was nowhere for either of us to hide. Her eyes were open, and so were mine. Her pussy full of me, her mouth full of truths she'd never said out loud.

She pressed her forehead to mine, her hips rolling down one more time, slow and complete, taking me to the root. Her breath steadied.

"Mine," she said.

The word, quiet. The first time was in a dark Busan hotel, her face hidden by shadows so she couldn't see what it cost. She'd repeated it until she believed it. The second time had been in Karina's living room only last night, our foreheads pressed in lotus, with Karina watching on. She'd said it like she was daring the room to argue.

This time needed nothing. Just her eyes and the pool and the light.

Something cracked in my chest and a sob came out of my throat before I could catch it. I buried it in her neck, my face pressed to the wet skin where her pulse hammered.

Her hand found the back of my head. She held me there. Her fingers in my wet hair, her body still around mine, her heartbeat against my mouth. She didn't ask why.

The water held us.

***

I don't know how long we stayed like that. Her walls held me in slow, unconscious pulses. My cock still inside her, softening by degrees. Her breathing against my neck had slowed to something tidal: long in, long out, each exhale warm against my pulse.

The pool light shifted with us. Every small drift sent the teal rippling across her shoulders, her collarbones, the wet plane of her back where my hand rested.

Her fingers moved in my hair. Slow, absent, tracing patterns she probably wasn't aware of. Her heartbeat pulsed through the walls of her pussy, a faint, steady thrum that synced with the pulse in my cock. Her cheek rested against the top of my head. Her jaw moved when she swallowed.

She lifted her head and looked around. "This pool is really nice," she observed, hushed and warm, with quiet sincerity. I felt a laugh build in my chest before I caught it.

"I haven't even used it since we got here," she said, shifting against me, her hips resettling, my cock stirring inside her from the movement alone. "This is the first time we've actually been in it together. And of course the first thing we did in it was to fuck."

She was joking about it, but my jaw tightened at the thought of the pool. This pool, the shallow end where Yuna had been spread on a lounger with her fingers inside herself and I'd watched when I should've turned away. The tile where I'd pressed her against the outdoor shower wall afterward. The deck where Ryujin had strode out naked with The Beast in hand and caught us mid-creampie. This pool had been a lot of things before it was ours.

"Yeah, well." I kept my voice even. "Yesterday was -"

"I know." She giggled into my neck. The sound vibrated through my throat, through my chest, through the water between us. Her hips shifted and she tightened around me and the combination of the sound and the sensation was enough to make me throb. "Yesterday was a lot of things."

She smiled against my skin, and the stretch of her lips, the edge of her teeth was pressing into me. Whatever she was remembering, it was making her warm. The beach, the photos, Karina's villa and the candlelight and the lotus where she'd pressed her forehead to mine and whispered "mine" while Karina watched and the whole room held its breath. Mine had different chapters. Same pool, different hours.

Her hips moved in a slow grind that brought me back to full hardness inside her within three strokes, my cock filling what her body had already made room for, the stretch drawing a quiet sound from her throat. She buried her face deeper into my neck and rolled her hips again, finding the angle she wanted, the one that pressed me against the front wall on the downstroke, and her breath went sharp.

"Mm." Muffled against my skin. Her teeth grazed my neck. Her thighs re-locked around my waist and the lazy float became purposeful, her body remembering what it had been doing before the sob, before the stillness, before the pool convinced us we were finished. She wasn't finished, and neither was I.

I held her waist and let her set the pace. Her hips found a rhythm that built from the lazy grind into something more insistent, each roll longer, deeper, her body rising higher on the upstroke, taking more of my length before sinking back down. The water churned between us, small waves breaking against my chest, against her collarbones, the surface roughening with the urgency her body was writing across it. Her arms tightened around my neck and she used the leverage to drive herself down harder, each downstroke punctuated by a wet slap of her thighs against my waist that the pool amplified into something obscene.

"Ah -" She breathed it into my ear. Her walls clenched on the downstroke, that trained grip, and I groaned and she responded with another clench, tighter, a targeted squeeze that she held for the full depth before releasing on the rise. Her fingers dug into the back of my neck. Her breathing had gone ragged and rhythmic, a pattern she was riding the way she rode me, with each exhale timed to the bottom of the stroke, each inhale on the rise, her body treating this the way it treated choreography.

The pool light caught her from below as her head tipped back again, teal washing up her throat, gilding the underside of her jaw, catching the wet strands of hair that clung to her neck. Her mouth was open, her eyes half-lidded, her expression stripped of anything careful or composed.

"Right there," she gasped. "Stay - right -"

I stayed, planting my hips and letting her work the angle, her body doing the moving, core and thighs pistoning in a rhythm the water couldn't slow anymore. She'd overcome the pool's resistance through sheer want, each thrust cutting through the water like it wasn't there, the buoyancy she'd been negotiating with earlier now something she used, letting the float lift her on the upstroke so gravity and muscle could drive her down harder. The deep end churned around us, water splashing over both our shoulders, and the sound was everywhere; wet skin on wet skin, her breathing pitched high and getting higher, the pool's surface breaking and reforming in chaotic patterns that scattered the glow across the deck, the villa walls, the dark sky.

My hands gripped her hips. Her body was moving fast enough now that holding her required effort, my fingers sinking into the muscle of her ass, and she was riding with the relentless focus of someone who'd decided on a destination and would reach it through sheer repetition. Every downstroke drove me into pressure that bordered on pain. She was tight and slick, her body milking with contractions that were half-voluntary, half-response, training applied to the deepest possible purpose.

"Fuck - Minho -" Her forehead pressed hard against mine. Her eyes found mine, close enough that the teal light reflected in her pupils, two tiny pools inside the pools of her irises. Her mouth open. Her breath ragged. "I'm -"

Her face was right there, lit from below, hiding nothing.

And in that moment, with her body wrapped around mine and the pool light turning us both translucent, with five years of practice rooms and hotel ceilings and mornings where I'd woken up beside her and pretended the wanting didn't live in my chest for five years - in that moment where the words I'd swallowed on a Jeju beach at golden hour and buried through two days of guilt and carried through a nightmare that showed me exactly what losing her would look like were rising in my throat with the inevitability of something that had been waiting years for an exit, with her eyes on mine and no mask left between us and the truth sitting so close to my tongue I could taste the shape of it - three syllables that carried the weight of everything I'd been too afraid to name out loud because naming it would make it real and real things could be lost and I'd already lost her once by leaving and couldn't survive losing her again -

"Yeji, I -"

My voice changed and my body changed with it. Everything tightened. My grip on her hips, my jaw, the muscles of my stomach, my cock swelling thick inside her from the weight of what I'd primed myself to say.

It locked every part of me rigid at once.

Her cat-eyes sharpened, the haze clearing, and I watched her read the shift in real time, in the tension in my arms, the catch in my voice, the way my cock had gone iron-hard inside her on a single beat.

"Don't you dare." Her leader voice surfaced through the haze, low and commanding. "I'm not leaking your cum into the pool. That's nasty."

She unhooked her legs from my waist in one smooth motion, her thighs releasing, her hands sliding from my neck to my chest and pushing me gently backward so the water opened between us. My cock slid free, the disconnect a gasping, wet loss that left me throbbing in the warm water, every nerve still firing.

She took a breath, held it, and went under.

"Yeji, that's not what I was going to -"

The surface closed over her head like glass reforming. Her hair fanned out in slow dark ribbons, catching the light in blue-green glints, spreading around her face as she sank. The pool light turned her into something from a painting: limbs pale and luminous against the deep blue, the bikini a dark interruption, her body moving with the fluid grace of someone who trusted the water completely. Bubbles trailed from her nose in a silver chain that climbed past my chest toward the surface.

Her hands found my hips. Firm, steadying, her fingers hooking into the waistband of my shorts and pulling them down. Two quick tugs, the fabric floating off somewhere behind her, and then her hands were on my thighs and she was positioning herself with the same quiet intensity she brought to everything.

Looking down through the surface was like looking through warped glass. Her face rippled and refracted, the teal light splitting her into shifting planes, her mouth approaching, her eyes open, looking up at me through the water between us with an expression that was equal parts tenderness and purpose.

Her mouth closed around the head.

She worked slowly. The water made everything different; supporting her, slowing her jaw, her movements languid and unhurried in a way that land never allowed. She took me deeper in measured increments, her throat opening to accommodate, her tongue pressing the underside on every stroke. Bubbles escaped from the corners of her lips and tumbled upward past my stomach. The visual through the warped surface was devastating: Yeji's face refracted by teal light, her mouth full of me, her eyes open and looking up.

She surfaced for air. A quick gasp, her hand still wrapped around my shaft, stroking through the water while she breathed. Water clung to her lashes in fat droplets that caught the teal light, blurring her eyes into something shimmering and half-drowned, and when she blinked they ran down her cheeks like she was crying pool water. She grinned at me, quick and filthy and sure of herself, and went back under.

My hand found her hair underwater. Fingers threading through the floating strands, gripping without pulling. Her rhythm deepened. Each stroke dragging the full length of me through the tight seal of her lips, her cheeks hollowing, her nails digging crescents into my thighs for leverage. Drawing it out. Pulling the orgasm toward her mouth with the patience of someone who'd decided exactly how this would end.

"Yeji - I'm -" Her name hit the empty deck, so my hand tightened in her hair because my voice couldn't reach her.

I came in her mouth with a groan that echoed off the water. The orgasm rolled through me slow and deep, the water dampening the usual sharp edge into something that crested and held, each surge unhurried, my cock pulsing against her tongue in long throbs that she swallowed through. Her throat worked around me on every pulse, lips sealed, suction steady, until my body gave her everything it had left. She held still through the last of it. Then pulled back slow, her lips dragging the full length of me, and surfaced.

She broke through the water gasping, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, and pushed her hair off her forehead with the other. The pool light caught her from below and she looked like a myth, wet and glowing and thoroughly pleased with herself.

"Feeling better?"

I laughed. A real, wrecked, helpless laugh that came from somewhere beneath everything I'd been carrying. She'd solved the wrong problem with the exact right mouth. I pulled her to me and kissed her. Tasted chlorine and salt and myself on her tongue. She kissed me back lazy and satisfied, her arms draping around my neck, the two of us drifting in the deep end.

We floated while the pool light held us, the filter humming its patient hum and the stars doing their slow rotation overhead, and for a while there was nothing but warm water and her breathing and the taste of her mouth.

The pool settled around us, the surface going still. Something behind my ribs pulled tight like a fist closing around the part of me that knew this was borrowed time, and my arms loosened around her without permission.

Her fingers found the back of my neck. A small pressure, grounding, her thumb tracing the knob of my spine.

"Go rinse off," she said, softly but warmly. "I'm going to float for a bit."

I pulled myself out. Hands on the pool edge, arms hauling my weight up and over, water sheeting off me onto the warm tile. She swam to the ledge, folded her arms on the edge, rested her chin on her forearms, and watched me. The shimmering teal caught her from below, wet hair slicked back, bare shoulders reflecting the light, the dark line of her bikini, her eyes steady and unhurried above her crossed wrists.

I walked toward the outdoor shower. Behind me I heard her push off the wall and drift onto her back.

***

The outdoor shower was built into the dark volcanic stone at the far end of the deck. Chrome head, tiled cubicle, a slatted door that didn't lock, as I'd found out the hard way yesterday.

I turned the handle and the water came lukewarm against the back of my neck while my hands found the tile. I stood there and let it work away the chlorine, the sweat, the salt of her. The stone was warm under my palms and my body remembered other hands on this wall. Smaller hands, pressed flat at shoulder height, braced against wet tile for reasons that had nothing to do with rinsing off.

This morning I would have stood here scrubbing until the water ran cold and my skin turned raw. But it was just a rinse now.

The pool sounds changed behind me. The lazy metronome of water lapping tile broke into something deliberate, a body in motion, water parting around purpose, the silver cascade of it sheeting off skin and striking the surface in a chord of small splashes, the low creak of the railing taking weight.

I turned.

Yeji pulled herself out of the pool and made sure I watched every second of it.

Hands on the railing, arms flexing with strength she'd spent years building, she hauled herself up and over the edge in one clean motion that bypassed the stairs entirely. She didn't need them. Pulling herself out put her back on display, her shoulders and lats working under wet skin, water sheeting off her in ribbons that followed every line she'd trained into her body. She knew what her back looked like. She'd spent enough hours in studio mirrors learning exactly what each muscle did when it engaged.

I knew what her back looked like too. I'd mapped it with my hands while she rode me, traced the valley of her spine while she came. She'd never once performed it the way she was performing it now.

She stood on the deck and didn't move for a three-count. Just stood there dripping, letting the moment arrange itself around her. One hand found her hip, planted, her weight shifting onto one leg the exact same way she held that pose under concert lights, with her head tilted back, chin lifted, her profile sharp against the pool glow behind her. She knew what that angle did. She'd built a career on knowing.

From where I stood in the shower she was silhouette, edges bright, everything between them dark. The shape of her shoulders, her waist, the hand on her hip, the wet hair plastered to her neck was barely visible, but I couldn't see her face. She pushed her hair back with both hands, arms raised, back arching, and the water ran off her elbows in streams that flashed as they fell through the glow behind her.

I'd seen her hide inside silhouette before.

Then she turned to face me and the pose came with her, the hand still on her hip, the weight still shifted, except now her chin dropped and her eyes found mine across the deck and the concert angle became something private, something that had never been for an audience of twenty thousand.

Bare feet on warm tile, her pace unhurried, staged as choreography. She was counting the steps in her head. I could tell from the rhythm because it was measured and even, the same control she brought to stage blocking. Each step carried her further from the pool's backlight and deeper into the open moonlight that fell across the deck, and each step the silhouette loosened; the brightness at her edges fading, details arriving where shadow had been.

Her collarbones first. Two lines of silver surfacing above the dark wet cover-up.

Three steps in she reached for the hem.

She could have left it on. It was already translucent, already clinging, already revealing more than it concealed. She pulled it off anyway in fluid, practiced motion. Her arms crossed to grip the fabric, peeling it up her stomach, her ribs, the wet sound of it separating from skin slow and obscene. She dropped it on the tile without looking where it landed, then her eyes found mine across the distance between us. Not checking if I'd seen, but confirming she'd wanted me to.

She kept walking and the moonlight kept arriving.

Her bare stomach next, the water running down it catching white now instead of teal, every stream visible, every path across her skin legible. Then her throat, the column of it long and wet. Then, somewhere around the midpoint of the deck, her face appeared slowly, in pieces, like a developing photograph.

Her jaw first, silver on wet skin, the line of it set and certain. Her mouth, the lower lip full and catching light along its wet edge. Then her eyes, already looking at me, and they were steady, dark, unhurried, and absolutely aware of what the light was doing to her.

My hands stopped moving under the shower spray.

The bikini was all that remained and the water had done the rest. Soaked transparent, the brown fabric clung to every contour with the cruelty only wet cloth could achieve. More explicit than bare skin because it outlined everything, drew the eye to every detail it was supposed to conceal. Her nipples pressed through the top in sharp relief, hard points visible through material that had given up its purpose entirely, the moonlight catching them with the same clarity it had caught her face. Pool water ran down her stomach in streams that split at her bikini bottom, following the creases of her hips to disappear beneath fabric that molded to her pussy with enough detail to show me the familiar shape of her, the outline of her lips where the wet material pressed flush and revealing.

Nothing was in shadow. She'd walked out of it.

Water dripped from between her thighs in heavy drops. Off the soaked bikini, off the seam where the fabric clung tight, each step releasing another as gravity pulled moisture from fabric too wet to hold more. She watched me watching and kept her pace.

Every step left a wet footprint on the warm stone. Every step released another drop.

My cock was getting hard just watching her walk, just seeing how the wet bikini revealed more than skin ever could, how water and moonlight mapped her body in paths she was choosing to show me. She saw. The corner of her mouth lifted. Just barely, just enough to confirm she'd chosen this approach because she'd wanted exactly this response.

She stopped at the shower entrance and leaned one shoulder against the frame like she wanted to turn the doorway into a stage. She was fully lit now, the last of the silhouette gone, and there was nothing between her body and the sky. Still dripping, the wet bikini clinging in ways that made breathing visible, that turned every small shift of her body into something I could track through how the translucent fabric moved against her skin.

She tilted her head. Water dripped from the ends of her hair onto her collarbone and tracked slow between her breasts while she watched me watch it fall.

It was beautiful. She was beautiful.

In the water, she'd been all warmth and weight. On the deck, she was only moonlight and memory.

***

"Room for two?" She asked, casually and warm, like she wasn't standing there dripping and half-naked and lit by nothing but open sky, like she hadn't just made me watch her cross the entire deck in a wet bikini that hid nothing, like the question wasn't the punchline to a performance she'd been choreographing since the moment she'd gripped that railing.

I was hard again. She hadn't touched me and was clearly smug about it.

"Of course." I stepped back and made room.

She came in and the cubicle halved. Her shoulder brushed mine. The shower spray hit her collarbone and ran down between her breasts, splitting into two streams that followed the edges of the bikini top before merging again at her stomach. She tipped her face up into the water and closed her eyes.

"You know," she said, "you finished and I didn't."

"I know."

"In my MOUTH."

"Yeah."

She opened one eye. "Seems unfair."

"You're right."

She bumped my hip lightly. “I’m not leaving this shower until that’s fixed, Minho.”

Her mouth twitched, but she didn't say anything else. Her hand found my hip, thumb tracing the groove of muscle above the bone. She was looking at my chest with intent.

I pulled her in and kissed her slowly, and she melted. Her hand stayed on my hip and her body stayed an inch away from mine, the shower water running between us, and she kissed me back with unhurried patience.

Her fingers walked from my hip to my stomach, then traced down, finding me rock-hard. She wrapped them around my cock loosely, not stroking, just holding, just to confirm the fact. Her thumb swept the head once, lazy, and I inhaled against her mouth.

"Hi," she murmured into the kiss.

My hands were on her waist. I pulled her the last inch and her body pressed flush against mine, the wet bikini fabric, the heat of her skin through it, her nipples hard points pressing into my chest. Her breasts flattened against me, small and firm, and I slid my hands down her sides, feeling every rib, the narrowing of her waist, the flare of her hips under the wrap-cut bottom.

Her back arched. My mouth found her neck. She tilted her head to give me room and her hand tightened around my cock, a slow stroke that matched the pace of my lips on her throat. I kissed down the tendon, the hollow above her collarbone, the wet neckline of the bikini where the fabric met skin.

"Get them off," she murmured against my skin. "Please."

I reached behind her neck. The tie was a simple knot, but it was swollen from the water. It took me both hands and she waited, her fingers still moving on me, while I worked it loose. The high-neck top fell away and then her breasts were bare. Modest, high-sitting, the wide-set nipples darkened and stiff from the cold. I cupped one and she sighed.

The bottom was easier. I hooked my fingers into the wrap-cut and pulled down and the fabric slid over her hips, her thighs, and dropped around her ankles. She stepped out of it, naked and wet in every sense of the word. The pool light bleeding through the slatted door threw pale teal stripes across her body, over her collarbone, the underside of one breast, a line across her stomach, the top of her thigh.

She shivered, and I didn't think it was from just the temperature.

"Cold," she said.

"Yeji, it's summer -" I interjected.

"I'm still cold." She reached past me and turned the shower handle. The spray shifted from lukewarm to warm and the steam started curling between us immediately, water thickening on our skin, heat flooding the small space. She stepped into it, into me, her arms sliding around my waist, her face pressing into my chest.

The water poured over my shoulders and down my back, ran in warm rivers over her hands where they held me, streamed through her hair and down her spine. I held her and the water did what I'd been trying to do earlier. It washed everything away: the chlorine, the night air, the invisible weight I'd been carrying. She'd turned it on warm for us, despite not knowing it was exactly what I needed.

Last time someone turned on this shower it was Yuna's hand flailing for balance, ice-cold water dumping on both of us. Then Ryujin was at the door.

Yeji turned it on warm. Deliberately, just for us.

I kissed her forehead and she looked up, her eyes heavy-lidded and dark, wide enough to swallow the teal light bleeding through the door slats.

My hand trailed down between us, over her stomach where the carved muscle softened under warm water, past her navel to where my fingertips found her groomed with Type-A thoroughness, her outer lips full and swollen from an hour of pool sex and no release. She was slick in a way the shower water couldn't account for. My middle finger parted her and she exhaled against my collarbone.

"Mh." Her hips tilted forward, taking my hand deeper.

I found her clit prominent, firm, having emerged from its hood and demanding attention. I circled it with slow steady pressure and she gripped my biceps, her forehead dropping to my chest.

"Ah - right there -" Her breathing shifted immediately, going quick and shallow, each exhale a small warm cloud against my wet skin.

She was already close. The pool had done most of the work, the riding, the friction, the hour of being filled without finishing. My fingers worked her in tight circles, pressing with every technique she'd fucked into me, direct and firm because anything gentle made her frustrated. Her hips rolled against my hand while her nails bit crescents into my arms.

"Faster, Minho, faster!" She cried out to the Jeju night.

So I gave her faster, and her thighs tensed against mine immediately. The shower spray ran down between her breasts, over my hand, and the water made everything slicker, hotter, her body responding in sharp micro-contractions against my fingertips.

"Turn around," I growled.

She turned and placed her hands on the tile wall, her palms flat and her back to me, the full length of her spine exposed. Shoulder blades, defined lats, the dimples above her ass, as she pushed that compact muscular shelf back toward me. Water ran down the channel of her spine and threaded down between her cheeks in a continuous braid while light through the door slats painted shimmering horizontal lines across her back.

I pressed against her from behind, my cock fitting against the cleft of her ass, hard now. She pushed back into it with a small deliberate grind that told me everything.

My hand found her again from the front, reaching around her hip while my other arm wrapped across her chest, palm flat against her breastbone, holding her back against me. She was pinned between my body and the tile, contained entirely. My fingers returned to her clit and she dropped her head between her arms.

"Ah -"

I kissed the back of her neck. The water splashed off my shoulders and rained down onto hers. My cock pressed against her from behind, sliding between the tight press of her thighs, and the friction drew a sound from both of us.

She reached back between her legs, found me, angled me upward, and pushed her hips back in one fluid sequence, and I slid into her in one slow, complete stroke.

There was no water resisting and no bikini getting in the way this time. Want pulled us together, her walls gripping with that honed muscle, tight and slick and hot in a way the pool had dampened. Every sensation the water had softened was restored at full intensity.

"Fuck -" She gasped to the tile. Her hands were pressed flat against it, fingers spread. I was buried to the root and neither of us moved for a second as I savored the fullness, the heat, and the shower raining down on us while my cock throbbed inside her and her walls pulsed around me in slow, deep squeezes.

I pulled back. Pushed in. The sound it made in the enclosed space was wet, heavy, amplified by the tile and the water and the three hard surfaces throwing everything back at us. The pool had been muffled, making the whole thing feel like an out-of-body experience. The shower amplified everything. Every thrust echoed, every sound she made bounced off the walls and came back louder.

"Ah - ah -" She wasn't holding anything back. Her voice hit the tile and returned to us louder. Her hips pushed back to meet each stroke with wet slaps, the impact sending water spraying off her ass, off my thighs.

I gripped her hip with one hand. The other found the wall beside her head, bracing. My hips found a rhythm, deep, steady, each stroke committed, and she matched it. Her ass pressed back into every thrust, taking me deep, and I watched the muscles of her back work beneath the wet skin, her shoulder blades shifting, her spine flexing.

"There - don't move -" she gasped.

I held the angle. Drove into it with steady, even thrusts that she met with a grind of her hips on the bottom of each stroke, pressing me against her front wall. The sound of her voice, her breathing, the wet percussion of our bodies, was everywhere. She was loud and she didn't care.

My hand left the wall and covered her mouth on pure reflexive instinct, the same instinct that had made me stuff her mouth with her own panties yesterday morning before I filled her up.

She grabbed my wrist, pulled my hand away, and held it against the tile beside her own.

"NO," she gasped, her eyes wild and wrecked and refusing to look away. "Let them hear -"

"Then tell them." I drove into her, a claim staked deep enough to bruise. "Tell them whose you are."

"Yours," she choked out, her head falling back to expose the long line of her throat, vulnerable and offered. "Fuck - Minho - yours."

I laced my fingers through hers against the wall and fucked her harder. The shower spray hit my lower back and cascaded over both of us, running down the crease where our bodies met, making everything hotter and slicker. Her forehead pressed against the tile, her mouth open and gasping, her sounds coming in sharp rhythmic bursts that matched each thrust perfectly.

"Deeper."

I adjusted. Wider stance, more of my weight behind each stroke so I could pound into harder. She moaned, a genuine, full-throated sound that resonated through the cubicle and out into the night air. Her pussy clenched hard on the next thrust, that punishing, full-body grip, and I groaned against the back of her neck.

She turned her head. "I want - hey - look at me."

I pulled out and she spun immediately, back against the tile, hooking one leg over my hip before I could reach for her. I lifted her, hands under those toned thighs, the muscles dense and defined under my palms, and her back slid up the wet wall until she was at the right height. She wrapped both legs around my waist and locked her ankles, the position bringing us face to face, her eyes level with mine. Teal light came through the door slats and painted her in horizontal stripes that fell on her collarbone, jaw, the wet glint of her eyes watching me with an intensity that made my breath catch.

I shifted my grip and she sank onto me slowly, her own weight driving her down bit by bit, and we both exhaled in unison as I filled her completely. Her forehead found mine, our breathing already synchronized.

"Oh -" The sound came out quiet, almost surprised, as her walls fluttered around me in quick startled pulses.

I started to move, pulling her down as I thrust up, using her weight and gravity together. The angle was different from doggy, deeper somehow, more intimate. Each stroke drove me against her front wall and I watched her face react to it in real time, the small catch in her breathing, the way her lips parted, the flutter of her eyelashes. My arms burned from holding her weight but I didn't care. She gripped my neck and rolled her hips to meet every thrust, her abs flexing against my stomach, small powerful crunches that added her strength to mine.

The rhythm built slowly. Down and up. Down and up. Her breasts pressed against my chest with each impact, small and firm, her nipples dragging across my skin. The wet sounds of our bodies were different here - deeper, more resonant, the slap of her ass against my thighs mixing with the splash of water and her voice.

"Ah - ah - ah -" Each thrust forced a sound from her, small desperate gasps that she breathed directly into my mouth, and I swallowed every one.

"Hold - right there -"

I held the angle and increased the pace, pulling her down harder, thrusting up with more force, and the water poured over us while steam filled the cubicle until we were moving in a white fog. Through the slats of the door, the pool glowed teal, the light painting us in fractured horizontal lines that shifted and slid across her skin with every thrust. Moonlight came through the gap at the top in silver shimmers where the teal couldn't reach. Her face moved between both colors, teal to silver to teal, her expression stripped bare and devastating.

Her breathing shortened, going shallow and quick, each exhale warm and damp against my lips. Her thighs tightened around my waist with the squeeze, the one that made breathing optional, and her walls started doing the thing they did before she came, contracting in slow greedy pulses that pulled me deeper on each stroke, trying to keep me inside her.

"I'm so close," she breathed against my mouth, the words barely forming. "Don't stop. Don't - don't change anything -"

I didn't. Held the angle, the rhythm, the depth, my hips driving up into her with mechanical consistency while my arms completed the circuit by pulling her down. Her eyes found mine and stayed locked there, pupils blown wide with arousal. She always watched during this part, watched me watching her, both of us seeing exactly what we were doing to each other.

Her orgasm started quietly. A held breath, a tightening that rippled upward from where we were joined through her stomach, her chest, her throat, then it broke. Her mouth opened, raw and unguarded, a moan that started low and climbed and cracked at the top into something breathless and wrecked. Her whole body seized around me, thighs crushing my waist, arms pulling me closer, her pussy gripping in deep rolling contractions that dragged sensation from the base of my cock to the tip on every pulse.

"Ah - fuck - Minho -" Her face buried in my neck while her body shook, trembling with the force of it. The waves kept coming, each one a full-body clench that squeezed me so hard the cubicle dissolved to static. I held her through it, my arms locked, my cock buried deep and unmoving inside her while she rode it out in long shuddering contractions that seemed endless.

She was still pulsing around me when mine started building, that familiar tightening at the base of my spine, the pressure mounting fast. The crush of her orgasm, the grip of her walls still fluttering, the heat, the weight of her in my arms, the water pouring over us and her sounds echoing in the small tiled space, it all converged at once.

"Give me everything," she moaned against my neck, the word muffled and breathless. Her legs locked tighter around my waist, heels digging in, making sure I understood.

I came inside her with my forehead pressed against the wet tile beside her head, the orgasm pulling from somewhere deep and primal. My cock pulsed in long heavy throbs, each one emptying into her while her walls wrung the release from me in deep milking contractions. My hips stuttered against hers, rhythm lost completely. My arms shook from more than just holding her weight. She held on through all of it, her heels digging into my lower back, fingers tangled in my wet hair, her pussy drawing every pulse out of me so she could keep it all.

The shower ran over us while the steam held us suspended in white heat. The last aftershock rolled through me and she let out a long quiet breath against my neck, her whole body going slack in my arms.

We stayed like that for a long moment. My arms were still burning, her weight still against the wall, the water still pouring over us both. I was still inside her and softening and neither of us moved to separate. Eventually, her legs, slowly and almost reluctantly, unwound from my waist. Her feet found the shower floor and she stood on her own, still pressed against me.

Her hand found my cheek, wet and warm and gentle. She turned my face toward hers and kissed me slowly, thoroughly, tasting like shower water and salt and everything we'd just done.

"That was nice," she murmured against my mouth. "But we should probably clean up."

She pulled back half a step and I slid out of her, both of us inhaling through our teeth at the oversensitive separation, swollen lips parting sharp after so long connected.

We stood there face to face, close enough that my cock settled naturally between her thighs, wedged in the space where her legs met, still half-hard and slick, pressed against the heat of her pussy from the outside. She stood there with her thighs closed around the length of me while the shower poured over us both and our breathing gradually found the same rhythm.

The first thick drop of cum slid out of her before I saw it. It was warmer than the shower spray and heavier, slipping through her folds and landing on the top of my cock where it rested between her legs. Then more came, her body giving back what I'd left inside her in slow pulses, each one coating my shaft. The shower spray washed some away but more kept coming, denser than what the water could disperse.

She looked down between us, watching it happen. Her eyes came back up and met mine, raw and satisfied and utterly unashamed.

Her hand moved between us. Her fingers wrapped around my shaft where it sat between her thighs, stroking once through the mixture coating it, her palm sliding through cum and shower water and the slickness she'd deposited. She brought her hand up between our faces and examined it under the spray, watching the shower water thin what her fingers had collected but not erase it entirely.

"Messy," she said matter-of-factly.

"Yeah."

"I'm not dripping that all over the villa floor."

"Let me."

I went down to my knees on warm tile, the shower spray hitting my shoulders while my face came level with her stomach. The scale of her changed from here, her abs becoming a carved wall above me, the V of her hips narrowing to the neat line of her grooming, and below that the evidence of everything we'd just done. Her pussy was flushed dark and swollen, inner lips parted and slick with the mixture of us, my cum leaking from her in a slow pulse that the water caught and trailed toward the drain.

I cupped warm water in my palm and rinsed her thigh with practical strokes, following the streak where cum had tracked down her inner leg and washing it clean while she planted one hand on the wall above her and watched.

The second pass was slower, my fingers tracing the crease of her thigh, the sensitive hollow where her leg met her hip, and her stomach tensed in response. I rinsed the other side while my thumb swept the tender skin where the bikini bottom had been pressing for hours, the faint red line it had left still visible as an imprint of a garment that had been doing its job until the pool made it irrelevant.

"Minho." Warning and permission simultaneously, the word serving as both with Yeji the way it always had.

My fingers found her properly now, not cleaning anymore, my middle finger parting her and sliding through the thick slick mess of cum and arousal that water alone couldn't dissolve, finding the heat underneath. She was impossibly soft after everything, the firm grip from earlier replaced by something plush and yielding, engorged, every surface hypersensitive and tender to the point that my fingertip brushing her clit made her hips jerk forward.

"Ah - careful -"

I slowly slid one finger inside her anyway. The resistance was gone and what remained was warmth and give and the slick evidence of what I'd left in her minutes ago, thicker than her own arousal and still deep enough that my finger pushed through it on the way in, pushing some of it back into her. Her body held both of us now.

I looked up to find her eyes half closed, her head tipped back against the tile, shower spray catching her jaw and running off her chin while her breasts rose and fell with breathing that had already lost its steadiness. Water streamed down her chest, over her nipples, pooling in the hollow of her collarbone before overflowing, and she was looking down at me between her breasts with the expression of someone who'd given up pretending this was still about cleanup.

I circled her clit with featherlight pressure. "Look at you," I murmured against the wet skin of her thigh. "Look how ready you still are."

"Only for you," she whispered in the general direction of the tile. "It's only ever for you."

One stroke became two, then a rhythm emerged, and she was close before I'd even started because the shower fuck had left her on a plateau her body hadn't fully descended from. My fingers found the rhythm that made her squirm and continued it, circling gently while my free hand steadied her hip and my mouth pressed an open kiss to the soft skin below her navel. The taste was shower water and underneath it salt, and underneath that, her.

Her hand found the back of my head, fingers threading into my wet hair and holding on.

"Don't stop." She whispered, her voice stripped of all pretense.

I kept going, maintaining the same circles and the same pressure and the same patience while her thighs trembled against my shoulders and her breathing went shallow and stayed there. I pressed my forehead to her stomach where her abs were already contracting in micro-spasms beneath my skin, her walls clenching around my finger in soft helpless pulses, her whole body tightening toward a center of gravity located exactly where my fingers were working.

Her breath caught and held. Her fingers tightened in my hair.

She made a small, broken sound, a gasp that cracked at its center, and her hips pressed forward once, twice, her clit pulsing against my fingertip in contractions so subtle I'd have missed them if I hadn't spent five years learning how to pay attention to this particular girl.

Her thighs shook while her hand stayed buried in my hair, and she came against my fingers in long, quiet shudders that moved through her, the smallest orgasm of the night arriving as an aftershock.

I stayed on my knees until her breathing evened out, my forehead resting against her stomach while her fingers combed through my wet hair in slow passes, each one lighter than the last. The shower poured over both of us and neither of us spoke, the silence warm and full and for the first time all night, clean in a way that had nothing to do with the water.

She exhaled long and slow, the last tension leaving her in one breath.

"Okay. For REAL this time. Let's clean up and go back inside."

I stood while my knees voiced their complaints about the tile, which had stamped two matching red ovals into my kneecaps that were going to be visible for an hour. She turned the shower off and the world went quiet, the white noise dropping out of the night and leaving only the drip from two bodies and the pool filter humming its devotion in the distance.

She studied me with that head-tilt she always deployed when she was reading something she wasn't sure about, whether a contract or a set list or a person she cared about who'd been carrying something heavy all day. Then, without a word, she reached behind me for the towel someone had left on the hook beside the shower, the only towel there, and she wrapped it around my shoulders instead of her own.

Her hands smoothed the fabric over my collarbones, adjusted the drape across my chest, fingers running along the edges, and she was naked and dripping and she'd just come twice and she was drying me off. The gesture sat in my chest warm and refusing to let me name it.

"You're shivering," she said.

"I'm not."

"Your shoulders are doing the thing."

"What thing?"

"The stubborn thing. Where you pretend you have internal heating."

"I don't do that."

She raised one eyebrow with water dripping off it.

"Grab your stuff," I said. "Let's head up."

I glanced toward the pool. My shorts were in there somewhere, floating in the deep end where she'd pulled them off my hips an hour ago, and the prospect of walking back to that water naked to fish them out was not a mission I was signing up for at this hour.

She turned without argument, which should have been my first warning, and walked the three steps to where her top and bottoms were puddled together on the wet tile. She bent at the waist instead of the knees, and she bent slowly, and there was absolutely no version of reality where Hwang Yeji didn't know exactly what she was showing me when she did it. Her legs stayed straight and slightly parted, the muscles in her hamstrings pulling taut as she reached for the fabric, and from where I stood the view was total and devastating and delivered with the same casual authority she brought to everything. Her pussy, swollen and flushed and still carrying the evidence of the last hour, a thin line of white cream sitting undisturbed along the seam of her slit, glossy against the pink, visible even in the low light because her body was still holding what the shower hadn't reached. The line caught the pool's glow the way the water on her skin had caught it minutes ago, and I watched it the way I'd watched everything tonight, with the selfish attention of someone who understood that this exact frame, her bent forward, hair dripping, thighs taut, freshly fucked and glowing with it, existed for a handful of seconds and would never arrange itself precisely this way again.

She looked back at me over her shoulder. Hair falling across one eye, her mouth pulled sideways into something lazy and satisfied. She'd seen me looking. She was proud of it, and somewhere in the back of my skull the image of a hotel nightstand and a tissue crumpled too hard flickered once and went dark. She held the pose an extra moment, letting me have it, before she straightened with the bikini bottom hooked on one finger.

She started spinning it, one slow loop around her index finger, the wet fabric catching the glow as it went, then started walking toward the deck where the cover-up lay in the crumpled heap she'd left when she'd peeled it off. Bare feet on warm tile, her hips carrying the easy sway of a girl who knew exactly what her ass looked like from behind and had decided I deserved the full duration of the walk. It was compact, tight, every muscle visible, an ass that clenched with each step instead of giving, earned from ten thousand practice hours and currently being deployed as a weapon.

She bent again for the cover-up, and this time she took even longer about it. Wrung it once with a twist that flexed her forearms, tossed it over her shoulder, and turned back with the bikini still spinning on her finger, giving me a grin that clearly signalled she'd won something and wanted to make sure I'd noticed.

Then she walked back.

The bikini stopped spinning. The sway dropped out of her hips. She walked the same line she'd just taken away from me, reversed, slower, her chin lifting as the distance closed and her eyes found mine and held.

She stopped close enough that her exhale landed warm on the base of my throat. Her chin tilted up, the height difference putting her eyes right below mine, and she was naked and wet and holding her clothes like props she had zero intention of wearing. One deeper breath from either of us would have put her chest against mine.

She didn't take it. Just stood there, touching nothing, saying nothing, letting the proximity do all of it.

I'd never had this from her in five years. Yeji took, Yeji demanded, Yeji grabbed collars and pushed shoulders and said now and harder and don't you dare stop. She wasn't one to stand barefoot and quiet in front of a boy and dare him with nothing.

My cock stirred against my thigh and she saw it. Her eyes dropped, came back up, then raised an eyebrow.

I kissed that eyebrow first. Leaned down and pressed my mouth to the arch of it, slow, feeling her lashes flutter shut against my chin. Then her nose, the bridge, where she once had a cute little mole that she'd removed. My lips sat there and her breathing changed underneath me, her chest swelling and then stopping, held, waiting for where my mouth was going next.

Then I scooped her up without warning with both hands under her thighs. One clean lift, and Hwang Yeji was airborne and wet and completely unprepared for it. The sound she made probably violated the resort noise policies.

"WAHHH - MINHO -"

"Hold on."

"PUT ME -"

"Hold ON, Yeji -"

I was already walking. Naked and barefoot with the towel sliding off my shoulders, arms full of naked girl, cock swinging with honestly unnecessary enthusiasm for someone two orgasms deep. She grabbed everything in reach starting with my neck, then my shoulder, then the falling towel, which hit the deck with a wet slap that left her scrambling for new purchase. Then her hand went down and found my cock and grabbed it.

I stopped walking. "What are you DOING?"

"I need an anchor!" She exclaimed, making it sound like she was defending a choreography choice.

"That's NOT a handle -"

"It's sturdy and it's right there!"

"HWANG YEJI."

She adjusted her grip and I was going to lose my mind, carrying a naked idol across the outdoor deck while she held my dick like a subway strap, and somewhere in the dark villa people were probably pretending to sleep while the pool still glowed behind us like a teal crime scene, and I'd never been happier in my life.

I hit the sliding door that was still open from when she'd come through it however many lifetimes ago, and the hallway was dark, cool air hitting wet skin so we both hissed through our teeth at the same instant.

"Cold cold cold cold -"

"HOLD ON."

"I AM holding on, that's the PROBLEM -"

My feet left wet prints on the polished floor while hers left nothing, suspended as she was with toes curled, her body folded against my chest, her face buried in my neck, her laughter so hard it had gone silent. Her ribs vibrated against my chest in quick spasms.

I'd seen her do this twice in five years. Laughing without breathing, both times. Both times I'd worried she was dying.

She lifted her head from my neck and looked me dead in the eyes.

"If you drop me on these stairs," she said, "I will NEVER forgive you."

"I've carried you through worse."

"When?"

"Trainee dorms, 2018. The night you raided Daehwi's soju stash."

"Wasn't me! Natty raided it," she argued indignantly, though her voice wobbled on the name. "I was just supervising."

"You refused to take the elevator because you said the machine spirit hated you. I had to carry you up three flights while you sang trot songs."

"I did NOT."

"You called me oppa and threw up in the lobby peace lily."

"That didn't happen."

"Daehwi has video."

"Daehwi does NOT have -" She pulled back far enough to check my face for the lie and found none. "Does he? Oh, I'm going to kill him."

I took the stairs two at a time while her grip relocated from my cock to my neck, an upgrade for my lower body and a downgrade for my airway. She had her arms locked in a chokehold her personal trainer would've been proud of, legs wrapped around my waist, every step bouncing her against me with wet skin on wet skin, her breasts pressing into my chest.

But as we climbed, the bounce started changing.

At first it was just a slide, her wetness smearing against a dick that had absolutely no business recovering this fast. Then she shifted. It turned into a grind, her pussy moving against me in a rhythm that matched my pace exactly. It felt less like she was just holding on, and more like she was actively trying to angle me inside her while we were moving up a staircase. I couldn't tell if she was doing it on purpose or if the climb was just forcing us into the most agonizing friction possible, but as she laughed breathlessly against my collarbone, devious and completely unapologetic, she worked me rock hard again.

"Yeji -" I grunted, my fingers digging into the wet muscle of her thighs as she rolled her hips again, the friction absolute murder.

On the next stair, the head dragged through her wetness and caught against her lips.

On the stair after that, she tilted her hips down exactly as I lunged up, and because she was so impossibly slick, I slid straight inside her.

We both gasped with a sharp, shocked sound that echoed in the dark stairwell. She shoved her face into my shoulder, her laugh fracturing into a wretched moan, and instantly clamped her thighs harder around my waist to try and trap me there. She tried to lock her ankles, trying to actually ride the carry, but we were just too wet. The very next step, our skin slipped, her hold shifted, and I slid right back out of her with a wet pop just as my foot hit the top landing.

I stopped walking for a second. My cock was slick, throbbing, and absolutely furious about the eviction, and the naked idol who had just "accidentally" fucked me on a staircase was giggling into my neck. The walk down the remaining hallway suddenly felt a lot less like a carry and a lot more like a countdown.

She kept bouncing up and down through the hallway, then bedroom door, which was open, thankfully.

Then I threw her onto the bed like a suitcase after a fourteen-hour flight.

She bounced theatrically with a shriek as the mattress launched her into the air with limbs splaying, wet hair fanning across the duvet.

The momentum broke her grip. The ball of wet swimwear she’d been clutching the entire way up the stairs launched out of her hand, sailed across the room, and hit the floor-to-ceiling window with a loud, profoundly un-sexy SMACK.

We both froze.

The cover-up and brown bikini stuck to the glass for two full seconds before starting a slow, pathetic slide down the pane, leaving a trail of pool water behind it.

I stared at the bikini bottom that had exiled me in the deep end, watching it peel off the glass and drop into a wet heap on the floor.

"Glad we finally got rid of the cockblocker," I said.

"Hey." She pointed a finger at the wet heap, her chest heaving. "I fought that thing in the deep end for you. And I won."

"It put up a hell of a fight."

"You're ridiculous," she gasped, dropping her head back against the mattress.

Her bright laugh echoed around the room. The sound was enormous and the opposite of everything this night had started as with the quiet pool and the careful silence and the tears, this loud and stupid and young, filling the dark bedroom the way the teal light had filled the water.

She settled on her back, breathing hard, wet marks spreading across white sheets.

I stood at the foot of the bed with my chest heaving, dripping and grinning like an idiot.

Her laughter died and her eyes changed. Those cat eyes, sharp and predatory and the reason her fancams went viral, shifted from bright to molten in an instant. The brightness stayed while the quality transformed, warmth contracting and concentrating into something feral. The grin pulled into something slower and hungrier, the same look from the pool and from the shower entrance and from every moment where Yeji decided the talking was finished and the next stage was starting.

She sat up and reached for my wrist, fingers wrapping around it and tightening, and pulled.

I fell onto her and every wet surface sealed to its counterpart on contact. Chest to chest, stomach to stomach, my cock landing along her mound where her body made space for it without hesitation. The length of me settled into the groove of her slit, and she was wet enough that it coated the underside of my shaft in slick increments, her body still releasing what I'd left inside her in slow pulses that made the contact hotter with each passing second. When she shifted her hips the friction drew a sound from my throat I hadn't meant to make.

Her legs wrapped around the backs of my thighs. Her arms crossed behind my neck, wrists overlapping, fingers hooking into opposite elbows. Every limb formed a circle with me at the center, and she tightened them all at once, her thighs pulling, arms drawing my weight down, her whole body contracting around the fact of me the way it had been contracting all night around every truth she couldn't say with words.

Her breathing slowed against my collarbone. Mine followed without effort, two distinct rhythms settling into the same quiet.

She shifted her hips upward, just a fraction of an inch. The movement dragged the head of my cock directly against her entrance. The heat there was absolute, the slickness parting around me, her body already opening, already demanding the rest.

My breath hitched. I braced my forearms on either side of her head to keep from sinking in completely, the restraint costing me everything.

Her hands slid from my neck to my jaw, her thumbs tracing my cheekbones the exact way they had at the edge of the pool before the fall. Her eyes were entirely black now, dilated and starving, holding mine in the dark while her hips tilted again, locking me against the threshold.

"Hi," she whispered.

***

[OUTSIDE - THE POOL DECK]

The pool glowed in the dark like an open eye, teal light bleeding across tile and stone and the wet trail threading from the outdoor shower through the villa's open sliding door into the hallway beyond.

In the deep end, a pair of swim trunks drifted just beneath the surface, dark fabric suspended in luminous water, turning patient circles in the filter's current. Left behind the way clothes are left behind when bodies decide they have better uses for their hands.

Two sets of footprints told the story. The larger ones spaced wide with heel-strikes driven deep, the gait of someone carrying weight they refused to put down. The smaller ones appearing and disappearing at intervals where feet had dangled, toes pointed inward, suspended in arms that had decided they belonged in the air. Between the prints ran a faint translucent line, thin and irregular, catching the pool's glow where the water hadn't yet absorbed it into the stone. Evidence that wouldn't survive dawn but existed now, threading through their path like a filament. Like a trail left by something that had leaked and dripped and been cheerfully ignored in favor of laughter and speed and the sheer stupid joy of two people sprinting naked through a house that wasn't theirs.

The trail ended at the base of the stairs.

The stairs climbed into darkness, each step a threshold ascending toward the second floor where a single window glowed warm and gold, the only light in the entire villa that hadn't been extinguished by the fight. Backlit movement flickered behind sheer curtains, two shadows merging and separating and merging again, bodies writing their own language against fabric that turned them into silhouettes. The frame shuddered once as something heavy hit a wall. Laughter spilled down through the open window, muffled by distance but unmistakable in its pitch, high and breathless and young, a girl who'd forgotten how to breathe through laughing. A lower sound followed, furniture scraping across floor, the sound of a bed protesting forces it wasn't designed to accommodate.

Everything else was dark.

Kitchen, living room, the hallway where earlier today laughter had bounced between walls before the fight killed it. The terrace where Ryujin had stood with her arms wrapped around herself. The guest rooms where Chaeryeong and Yuna and Lia had retreated to separate corners to sleep or pretend to sleep or stare at ceilings while trying to process what the group had become. All of it swallowed by the kind of darkness that only exists when people have given up on the day and gone to ground, when the house has been ceded to whoever refuses to stop living in it.

The filter hummed its patient devotion. Water lapped tile in steady intervals, the pool's heartbeat, the only honest machine still telling the truth. The landscape lights threw long shadows across hedges and stone and the figure standing at the back gate.

Motionless. A silhouette against the perimeter fence, shoulders broad and squared, posture rigid in a way that could read as control or collapse depending on how you were inclined to interpret a spine held too straight for too long.

The gate's hinges made a sound. Metal on metal, quiet but sharp enough to cut through the night's silence. The figure stepped forward once, then again, moving from shadow into the pool's radial glow, and the teal light climbed from feet to knees to torso to face the way water climbs a body descending into it.

Ryujin stepped into the light.

The pool light hit her from below the same way it had painted them, and it inverted everything it touched. Sharp shadows falling upward across her face instead of down, her cheekbones rendered harsh and angular, her eyes enormous and dark and fixed on the trail threading from shower to door to stairs to the window still glowing above like a beacon someone had forgotten to extinguish.

She looked at the footprints. At the translucent line threading between them. At the evidence of bodies moving through space with such careless joy that they'd left a map any forensic eye could read.

She didn't move toward it. Didn't crouch to examine the details, didn't avert her gaze to grant them privacy they hadn't known to ask for. Just stood in the pool's glow and let the light paint her from below while every angle went wrong and every shadow inverted and her face became unreadable in the upward illumination, a study in light and darkness and the emptiness that arrives when someone has finished fuming and hasn't yet decided what comes after fuming is done.

The window upstairs flickered. More movement. A shadow crossing the frame, followed by another, bodies in motion creating stories the curtains turned into suggestions. Laughter again, softer now, intimate, the sound of two people who'd forgotten the world could hear them. Then silence. Then a single long creak, rhythmic, the universal language of furniture bearing witness to what furniture wasn't meant to witness.

The filter hummed. The water lapped.

Ryujin stood in the light they'd floated in, the light that had turned them both luminous and honest and whole, and she let it do the same work on her that it had done on them. Lit from below. Shadows climbing instead of falling, her face carved into something between verdict and absolution.

She couldn't look away from the glowing window.

The teal light held her in its frame and waited for a decision it couldn't influence.

The window stayed lit and Ryujin stood still in the pool's glow.

And somewhere in the space between the three sources of light, in the gap between what had been witnessed and what would be done about witnessing, the Jeju night held its breath and refused to answer the only question that mattered.

Intro | Masterlist Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Which symbolic inversion from the Yuna arc hit the hardest

The fall into the pool (seduction vs trust)

The underwater BJ (showing off vs leader practicality)

The shower sex (hiding vs revealing)

Turning on the shower (cold vs warmth)

The emotional inversion (corruption vs absolution)

The "washing away the sin" symbolism

Yeji "wanting him" vs Yuna "using him"

Chiaroscuro lighting (fear and hiding in Ch9.5 vs grace and exposure in Ch20

The creampie (wiping it away in Ch9.5 vs putting it on display in Ch20)

Any another inversion that I missed

Voting ended onMar 7

――――――――――――――――――

Author's Note

I put up a poll asking if Yeji should find out about what happened at the pool. The response was overwhelmingly yes, but I'm not doing it, and I want to explain why.

I know what you're expecting. Yeji finds out, there's a big confrontation, some coldness, a period of earned suffering, and eventually they make up with groveling, grand gestures, and probably some really emotional makeup sex. It's a good story. I've seen it a hundred times and liked it every time. But that makes it fundamentally a Minho story, where the guy messes up, the girl judges him, and forgiveness drives the plot. The women involved just become supporting characters in his redemption arc, or villains in her betrayal arc, or both. Ryujin becomes "the girl who slept with her best friend's man." Yuna becomes "the maknae who crossed the line." Their whole arcs just collapse into what they did to Yeji, turning them into plot devices in someone else's story instead of main characters in their own.

That bothers me because Jeju Heat was never a Minho story. It's an ITZY story. It's about five girls and how they love each other and themselves. Minho is the catalyst, but he was never the point.

I think what gets lost if you look at this like a traditional cheating story is that Yeji and Minho aren't actually in a relationship. Like I mentioned in Chapter 18 and Yeji's BTS, there's no label and no exclusivity. For five years, she's explicitly refused to define what they are. Yeji's one real boundary, the one she drew with her whole chest, was "not my members." And that boundary isn't about monogamy or owning Minho's body. It's about fear. She's afraid someone will take away her safe space, the one place she doesn't have to be Leader Yeji, where she can just be the girl who steals shirts, does bad impressions, and falls asleep on someone's chest without her armor on.

So the betrayal isn't about breaking rules - it's about feelings. The story cares more about emotional truth than technicalities, which is exactly why Chapter 18 exists. Minho's subconscious doesn't check the terms of their arrangement before turning it into a horror movie. His guilt doesn't care that technically he didn't cheat. He knows what Yeji means to him, and he knows what yesterday would do to her. His nightmare IS the discovery scene, it just happens inside the person who actually needs to deal with it instead of the person who'd get hurt by it. I think that's more honest.

If Chapter 18 is the punishment, Chapter 20 is the absolution, and both only work because Yeji doesn't know.

The pool where Minho sits at the start of Ch20 is the exact same pool where Yuna straddled him on a lounge chair, where Ryujin pinned him against the tile, and where he came inside two of Yeji's members in one morning. The outdoor shower is where he and Yuna hid from Ryujin, and where Ryujin caught them mid-creampie. He knows what happened there. Yeji doesn't. She walks out to the pool, sees moonlight on the water and the boy she's been wanting all day, and then she accidentally recreates almost every single moment, just softer.

In Chapter 2, Minho fell backward into the pool because Yuna pushed him in, chaotic and laughing. In Chapter 20, Yeji falls backward into the same pool, but she pulls Minho by the face, totally deliberate, eyes open the whole way down. One was losing control, the other is trust so complete she doesn't even brace for impact. Yuna fucked him in the shallow end where she could touch the bottom and leave whenever she wanted. Yeji takes him to the deep end where neither of them can stand, where staying means they have to hold each other. Yuna's underwater blowjob was a performance meant to be remembered, trying to be someone she's not to prove her worth. Yeji dives under because she won't let him cum in the pool, being practical and thinking about cleanup while his brain is still short-circuiting, because even in lust, she gets to be true to herself with him.

And then there's the shower. She sees warm tile and steam and asks "Room for two?" like it's the most natural thing in the world, because she simply wants to be close to him. He sees the exact spot where Yuna's back pressed against the wall, the handle she grabbed, the drain where the evidence washed away. But Yeji is just standing there smiling, and her total lack of baggage starts to overwrite his memories. She's not reclaiming the space because she doesn't know there's anything to reclaim. She's just being herself, and that's enough.

Even the smaller moments echo like this. In Chapter 0.5, Yeji locked Minho out of the bathroom after sex because letting him see her clean up felt too intimate. In Chapter 20, she lets him stay, lets him help, and leaves the door open. In Chapter 9.5, she whispered "mine" over and over, frantic and desperate, hiding her face in the shadows. In Chapter 20, she says it once, looking right at him in the water. It's not a plea anymore, but a partial declaration of something she's not quite ready to say.

This is why the secret matters to the story, not just the characters. If Yeji knows what happened in the shower, "Room for two?" becomes a test or a confrontation instead of a simple invitation. If she knows about the pool, pulling him backward becomes a deliberate way to reclaim him instead of pure trust. The innocence is what makes it work. Her moving through those spaces with total confidence proves that what happened there doesn't own them forever. She's not forgiving him because she doesn't know there's anything to forgive, but somehow that matters more.

If Yeji finds out, her arc goes backward. She has to put her armor back on. The shower door closes again, the walls go back up, and the whole back half of the story becomes about whether she can forgive and trust again. That means we'd just be retreading the same ground the first seventeen chapters already covered. Her arc was never "girl who forgives." It was always "girl who learns to love without fear." Finding out forces a regression that makes the happy ending feel conditional, like it's built on surviving a crisis instead of two people choosing to be vulnerable.

But the real reason I'm doing this is because of what it means for the people keeping the secret.

Those three people love Yeji deeply. Minho loves her like the first love you've been orbiting for five years without the guts to put a label on it. Ryujin loves her like the best friend who made chaos feel like home, where her growing away from you feels like a personal rejection. Yuna loves her the way the youngest loves the oldest, a mix of admiration, competition, and a desperate need to be seen as an equal instead of a baby. All three of them, on their own, for different reasons, come to the exact same conclusion: protect her from what I did. Not because they're scared of getting caught, but because they love her enough to let her be happy without knowing the cost.

I think that distinction matters. In cheating stories, confessing is almost always framed as brave, the hard but right thing to do, the painful truth that sets everyone free. But confessing is also often really selfish. You just dump your emotional baggage onto the person you hurt, because you make them carry it so you don't have to anymore. You get the relief of being honest and they get the devastation of knowing, and somehow we call that love? I think choosing to live with it, letting the guilt change you instead of dumping it on someone else, waking up every morning knowing what you did and deciding to be better instead of feeling lighter, that's arguably the harder road, and it's the one that lets the person you hurt stay soft.

This choice feels right to me because it matches how I think people actually deal with their mistakes. We all have something we've never told someone we love, not because we're liars or cowards, but because telling them would just transfer the pain without actually fixing anything. We make these calculations all the time, choosing what to absorb and what to pass on, deciding which truths help the person hearing them and which ones only help the person saying them. That kind of math is one of the most complicated, human things we do.

Growing up is partly about learning that some mistakes can't be undone, you just have to carry them. You don't always get a clean confrontation, a cathartic resolution, and a redemption arc. Sometimes you just have to live with what you did, let it change you quietly, and hope the person you become is worth more than the person who messed up. It's less dramatic than a screaming match in a kitchen, but I think it's also more true.

The dramatic irony is part of the point. You, the reader, know what happened at the pool. You know who was there. And as the story reaches its close, you'll carry that knowledge right alongside these characters as they make their choices. That gap between what they know and what you know is part of what gives the story its weight.

To be clear, I'm not denying you a confrontation scene because I already gave it to you. It happened in Chapter 18, inside Minho's subconscious, in a looping nightmare that kept escalating. It was worse than any real-life confrontation could ever be because it was built by the person who hates himself most for what happened. The nightmare IS the consequence. What comes after IS the resolution.

Some truths you carry so someone else doesn't have to. That's not a cop-out. To me, that's actually the hardest kind of love there is, and it's the kind this story believes in.

***

And for the film/literature nerds: this chapter is meant to be the equivalent of the balcony scene in Romeo and Juliet, or if you've seen the 1996 movie - the pool scene.

The way Luhrmann's film works is that the pool replaces the balcony as the place where they first actually meet each other, not as a Montague and a Capulet but as people. The balcony scene is about distance - he's below, she's above, the gap between them is what makes the conversation possible in the first place. The pool does the opposite. It pulls them under the surface of the ordinary world, somewhere with its own physics and its own quiet, where everything above - the families, the feud, all of it - belongs to the air and can't follow them down. That's what the water is for in that scene. Not romance as a backdrop, but submersion as a mechanism. You go under and the world stops being able to reach you.

Chapter 20 is both scenes at once, and I made sure to research and study them while crafting it. The pool glowing at night is the balcony - it's liminal in the truest sense, a threshold that's neither inside the villa nor outside it, suspended between the fight that just happened and wherever they're going next, lit from below like something out of a dream. And the fall into the water is the plunge into Luhrmann's pool, the moment where everything that was happening above the surface goes somewhere unreachable. The line I kept coming back to while writing was the villa and the fight and the guilt were all above us, on the other side of the surface, belonging to the air - which is, as far as I can tell, exactly what Luhrmann was going for, just set in Verona.

What makes the film's pool scene actually work, though, isn't the water. It's what the water makes possible, which is that these two people stop performing. In the pool they're not their families or their names or whatever role the story needs them to fill - they're just themselves. And that's the thing Chapter 20 is trying to do the whole way through, starting before either of them is even wet. Yeji breaks the rule she's held since trainee days and says everything she'd been editing for five years. He stares at her and doesn't apologize for it. She tells him he's beautiful and then basically wants to be struck by lightning for having said it. He tells her she looks like herself, which is maybe the strangest and most devastating thing you can say to a person who's spent a decade building a persona, and she has to tread water while she figures out what that does to her. The armor comes off one piece at a time, all of it before they touch.

The film also uses the water to foreshadow the tragedy - drowning love, beautiful and doomed. I wanted to use it as the opposite of that. Going somewhere you can't stand, where staying means holding onto someone - in a tragedy that's the setup for disaster. Here it's just where they want to be.

And yes, I know five years is the opposite of strangers. But I think this is still a first meeting, because the version of Yeji who shows up at that pool has never actually been in the room before. "I haven't even used it" reads, through the pool's symbolism, as: I haven't let myself be in this kind of space. I haven't been this undefended. This is the first time. The pool at midnight is where she finally walks out. That's what the scene is, and that's what it was always going to be.

[lessserseller]

Comforting Nayeon

ft. TWICE's Nayeon

Words: 1,117

Tags: Nayeon x M reader, Vanilla, Masturbation, Best Friend

The rain pattered against the windows of your small apartment, a fitting backdrop to the storm brewing in Nayeon's eyes. You'd been best friends since your college days—Nayeon, the vibrant idol from Twice, always the one to light up a room with her bubbly laugh, and you, the steady constant in her chaotic life. But tonight, as she sat on your couch, knees drawn up to her chest, that spark was dimmed by tears streaking her flawless face.

'He cheated on me,' she whispered, her voice cracking as she clutched a tissue. 'I found out today. Some girl from his work. How could he do that? After everything

Your heart ached for her. You'd always been there, through her debut struggles, her late-night rants about schedules, even the quiet moments when she'd crash at your place after a long day. Without thinking, you moved closer, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. 'Nayeon, I'm so sorry. That guy's an idiot. You deserve so much better.'

She leaned into you, her body trembling with quiet sobs. Her perfume—something sweet and floral—filled the air between you. Minutes passed like that, until her breathing steadied a little. 'Can you... can you just hold me? I feel so tense everywhere.'

You nodded, your hand gently rubbing her back. 'Here, lie down. Let me give you a massage. It'll help relax you.' It was innocent enough, something you'd done before after her tough dance practices. She hesitated for a second, then stretched out on the couch, her head resting on a pillow, face down. Her simple tank top and shorts clung to her curves, the fabric soft against her skin.

You knelt beside her, your hands warm as they pressed into her shoulders. She let out a soft sigh, her muscles knotted from the stress. 'That feels good,' she murmured, her voice muffled. You worked methodically, thumbs circling the base of her neck, sliding down her spine. Her skin was smooth under the thin strap of her top, and as you kneaded her lower back, she arched slightly, a small hum escaping her lips.

'You're always so good at this,' she said, turning her head to glance at you. Her eyes, still red-rimmed, held a vulnerability that made your chest tighten. 'I don't know what I'd do without you.'

Emboldened by her words, your hands ventured lower, massaging the dip of her waist, then the swell of her hips. She didn't pull away; instead, she shifted, parting her legs just a fraction. The air grew thicker, charged with something unspoken. Your fingers brushed the edge of her shorts, and she shivered.

'Nayeon... is this okay?' you asked, your voice low, heart pounding.

She bit her lip, nodding slowly. 'Yeah... it feels nice. Keep going.' Her tone was soft, laced with a need that mirrored the heat building in you.

Your palms glided over the fabric of her shorts now, pressing into her thighs. She was so close, her body responding to every touch—her breaths coming quicker, her hips subtly lifting. Emboldened, one hand slid upward, cupping the curve of her ass through the thin material. She gasped, a mix of surprise and something deeper.

'Oh... there,' she breathed, her voice husky. 'That spot... it's so tense.'

You squeezed gently, feeling the firmness beneath, then let your fingers trail inward, toward the warmth between her legs. The outline of her pussy was evident through the shorts, the fabric slightly damp already. Your thumb grazed over it, light at first, testing.

Nayeon's reaction was immediate—a sharp intake of breath, her body tensing then melting under your touch. 'Mmm... what are you doing?' she whispered, but there was no protest, only a curious arousal in her eyes as she peeked back at you.

'Touching you where it feels good,' you replied, your voice steady despite the rush of blood in your ears. 'Tell me if you want me to stop.'

She shook her head, her cheeks flushing a deep pink. 'No... don't stop. It feels... really good.' Her words were genuine, laced with the raw emotion of the night—hurt turning into hunger. You pressed firmer, rubbing slow circles over her clothed pussy, feeling the heat radiate through the fabric. She moaned softly, her thighs parting wider, inviting more.

'God, your hands... they're making me so wet,' she admitted, her voice trembling with vulnerability. 'I shouldn't... but I need this. After what he did, I just want to feel wanted.'

Her confession hit you hard, fueling the intimacy. You leaned down, your free hand stroking her hair as you continued the motion, your fingers now tracing the seam of her shorts, pressing against her folds. She rocked against your hand, small whimpers escaping her lips, her body arching in desperate need.

'You're beautiful, Nayeon. So responsive,' you murmured, your thumb finding the spot where her clit would be, circling it through the barrier. She cried out, a genuine, breathy sound that sent a jolt straight to your core.

'Please... more,' she begged, her voice breaking with emotion. 'I feel so empty inside. Touch me deeper.'

The plea was all you needed. With careful fingers, you hooked the edge of her shorts and panties, tugging them aside just enough. Her pussy was exposed now—slick, pink folds glistening with arousal, her entrance clenching in anticipation. You slid one finger along her slit, coating it in her wetness, before pressing the tip against her opening.

Nayeon's eyes widened, her breath hitching as you pushed in slowly. 'Ahh... yes,' she gasped, her walls tight and warm around your digit. She was soaking, her body gripping you like it had been waiting for this. You curled your finger slightly, stroking her inner walls, feeling her pulse around you.

'How does that feel?' you asked, your voice thick with desire, watching her face contort in pleasure.

'Incredible,' she panted, her hips bucking to meet your thrust. 'Deeper... make me forget him. Make me yours.' Tears of release mixed with her moans now, the emotional weight escalating as pleasure overtook the pain. You added a second finger, pumping steadily, your thumb returning to rub her clit in firm circles.

She shattered quickly, her pussy clenching hard around your fingers, a flood of warmth coating your hand as she came with a cry—raw, unfiltered, her body shaking in waves of ecstasy. 'Oh god... I'm cumming... for you,' she sobbed, the words genuine and arousing, pulling you deeper into the moment.

As she came down, panting and spent, she reached for your hand, guiding it to her lips to kiss your fingers clean. 'Thank you,' she whispered, eyes locking with yours, the intimacy between best friends forever changed.

[naburi]

THREE SISTERS AND ONE TUTOR | PART 4

MOMO X SANA X MINA X READER

TAGS: DOMINANT, VANILLA, HARD SEX

2.5K WORDS

“Aren’t they big? Suck them well.” Momo leans her boobs towards your mouth. “Look at me, I want to see your reaction, oppa.” Sana wants to see you feeling good. “Faster, faster, just like that!” Mina yells at you as she moans. Knocking on their front door. You have no idea what awaits you in their room.

“I heard good things about you.” Their mother opens the door for you. “G-good things?” You were nervous about what the three sisters might have told her. “Yes, they complimented your teaching skills, they said you were good at making them feel comfortable.” Their mother said. “I’m glad,” you were actually glad that they didn’t tell her what really happened. “You can go upstairs, Momo is waiting for you in her room.” As you walk up to their room, you have this unsettling feeling in your chest.

Before even knocking on the door, Momo opens it to welcome you. “Nice to see you again.” She gives you a wide smile. Her room is still a mess but her study table is spotless. The study started a few minutes ago and Momo is acting strange. She is not the whiny girl that you encountered last time. The girl is listening attentively, acting like a good student. “Are you okay?” You were curious about why she’s putting on an act.

The girl stands up and sits on your lap. Her arms are resting on your shoulders. “I thought you would not notice.” She said, you wish you could take that back and go back to studying with her. “Is there something that you want to do?” A smug expression is written all over her face. “I know you want them.” Momo acting like hugging you, she pulls your head closer to her breast, resting it on her soft boobs.

“We need to continue the study,” you were trying to reason out with her, but you didn't do any attempts to remove yourself in that situation. You just don’t want to admit that you are feeling hot that one of your students is throwing herself at you. “Oh, really?” Momo laughs at your excuse. “Are you sure you want to study?” She said before pulling her top off. Her big heavy boobs are now in front of you to behold. Your hands instinctively move closer to get a hold of those boobs but Momo slaps them away.

“You don’t want them, right?” She mocks you but leans her boobs closer to your face. “I-I just think we shouldn’t do this,” you continue to reason with her. You can’t look her in the eyes, you are also looking away as her boobs are now closer to you. Momo holds her one boob and smudges her nipple on your lips. Your head follows its direction, wanting more than a touch from her boob. Momo laughed at your hypocrisy. “Are you sure you don’t want them?” Momo reaches your hand, resting it on her other big boob. You grope her boob without hesitation. “You just said you don’t want them? Which one is it?” The girl is having fun mocking you.

She pushed your hand away again before leaning again towards your mouth. “Aren’t they big? Suck them well.” Momo commands you and you are obliged in an instant. You move up your head, closing the distance between her boobs and your face. You can now lick her nipples, you suck her other nipple while you lick the other around her areola. Momo is loving your hunger towards her massive boobs.

You can hear Momo moaning, you wonder if they could hear her in the other room but you can’t pull out your face from her saliva coated boobs. You suck her like a child looking for milk. Momo holds your head, she doesn’t want you to stop sucking her boobs. You now use your hands for those massive boobs. You grope her other boob like you want to see how far your fingers can sink on them. Your other hand squeezes her boob as your mouth is still on her nipple.

Momo is now pulling your hair out. She can’t take it anymore. Momo gives a strong pull, she peaks your face away from her boobs. She stands up to remove her shorts, revealing her soaking wet pussy, waiting to get impaled. You open your pants in the process, revealing your hard cock. The girl sits back on you. She lined up your cock on her slit and seat on it as fast as she could. The girl doesn’t have the patience to hold it. She swayed her body as she held herself on your shoulder. You can feel your cock is moving inside her slit. Her seat is creaking with every sway she does but she couldn’t care any less. Momo threw her head back as you see her eyes go white. The girl is enjoying herself using your cock.

Momo moans as loud as she could, you can feel your legs getting wet testament to how much she released on her orgasm. Momo leans flat on your body, her head resting on your shoulder. You can feel her breathing heavy. You let her stay in that position before you carry her to her bed. She said she’s going for a nap but it looks like Momo will fall into a deep sleep after that huge orgasm.

Knocking on Sana’s room, you feel nervous that she might find out what you did with her sister. You made sure to clean up your cock first, you made your outfit as neat as you could to not draw any suspicion. Sana opens the door for you with a sweet smile again. “How are you, oppa?” The girl asked, you worry that she might have heard what you just did with Momo. “I’m good, the session with your older sister was smooth.” You are hoping to move past this conversation.

“That’s good to hear!” Sana cheers on you. She guided you to her study area. You can still smell her fragrance like before. “What are we going to study today, oppa?” Sana rests her hand on your thigh again. You try hard to stay as professional as you possibly could. You don’t want any more mess with your clients. Half an hour have passed, you’re starting to sweat as you think about what consequences entails in having sex with one of your clients. You don’t want to ruin your reputation as a tutor as this is only your main source of income to support your own college education.

Sana noticed the beads of sweat forming in your forehead. “Are you okay, oppa?” Sana looks worried. “N-no, don’t worry about me, I’m fine.” You said, assuring her. “You don’t look okay, oppa.” The girl leans her face towards you, inspecting your eyes and face. “You aren’t sick are you?” She asked. “No, no, I’m not,” you replied as you lean back, you feel awkward having both of your faces that close together. “Maybe you are stressed, how’s your own studies, oppa?” Sana asked you as she knelled down between your legs. “I’m doing just fine in college…” you answered wondering what she’s going to do.

Sana’s hand graced from your thigh toward your crotch, she can feel your cock getting harder with her touch. “Let me remove your stress, oppa.” She said as her hands or pulling down your pants. Your cock is poking out of your underwear. Sana is looking at your cock innocently? She pulls down your underwear and looks at your gritty cock like a child seeing her favorite toy. San uses her mouth to make the first contact with your cock. Her head is resting on your thigh as her mouth is kissing your hard cock from below. Sana can feel your cock fully reaching its potential size as it grows big on her face.

Sana resurfaces from below, she licks your shaft up to the tip of your cock. It is now resting on her lips, you can feel her breath before she swallows the head completely. Sana sucks the head like a hard popsicle stick. Her cheeks sunken as your head is getting sensitive to how hard she is sucking it. You groan loud but briefly. You hold yourself back not wanting to draw attention from the outside. Without looking down on Sana, you can just feel she smiled before she starts going down again on your cock. Your tip is now reaching her tight throat. You wonder how Sana can swallow your cock deep without gagging.

Sana’s other hand is reaching down her slit. She feels hot on how well she’s sucking the thick cock of yours. She felt your cock is throbbing inside her mouth and pulled away immediately. She doesn’t want you to cum just on her mouth. The girl lay flat on her bed, removing away her shorts. She showed you her glistening, wet coated, pink pussy. This is what a pure pussy looks like in your head. Sana is really like a dream come true and right now she’s fulfilling your fantasy.

“Fuck me, oppa.” Her sweet voice can’t hide how vulgar her words are. You got on top of her and lined up your cock on her entrance. “Look at me, I want to see your reaction, oppa.” Sana said before you enter your thick cock on her. You don’t want to disappoint her and push your cock inside her innocent looking pussy. You moan in unison as the two of you can feel how her pussy is hugging your cock. Sana holds your face, not wanting you to look up in pleasure. She wants to see how much pleasure you feel. She wants to know that she has the best pussy you will have.

Sana locks her legs around your waist not wanting you to get away. Her arm is hugging around your back. You can still tell how sweet of a girl she is even your fucking her pussy down. “Moan for me, oppa.” She whispered in your ear. This gives the energy to enjoy her pussy and pump your cock inside her. Sana gets aroused by hearing your loud moan. You can feel her pussy tightening, “cum for me oppa, cum inside me.” Sana said out loud. Sana said out loud.

Her pretty room gets filled with your loud moans as you unload a huge amount of cum inside her while her orgasm is flowing simultaneously. You stay your cock inside her filled pussy as the two of you catch breath. You remove your cock slowly, a mixture of your cum and her liquid flowed out her now rosey red pussy. You lay besides Sana as she cuddles with you. She rests on your shoulder as her arm is on your chest.

Mina is trying to distract herself with playing online games but her pussy is also wet hearing the moans from the other rooms. Finally she heard knocks from the door, “come inside.” She yelled at you, acting like her usual self, not paying attention to you. You take a seat beside while you wait for her to end her current game. Not even a minute in, Mina stands up to sit on top of you. Her back is facing you as she still carries on with her game. “Your cock is still hard, huh?” She asked. She swayed her hips around, positioning the hard tip of your cock directly under her slit.

“Put your hands inside my shirt, play with my boobs.” Mina ordered you. “Wh-“ before making an appeal, you already accepted your faith. The three sisters just have their way on you and theirs nothing you could do. You carefully search for her boobs. Mina can feel you graze her stomach, going up to her breast. She is not again wearing anything underneath. You felt her hard nipples, your fingers fidget with them while your palm is squeezing her soft boobs. She doesn’t have the size like Momo but her soft skin is more than enough to grope hard on her.

Mina is slowly intensifying her sway, like she wants the clothes between her and your cock just disappeared so that she can finally feel your hard cock. You heard her keyboard got pushed away on her table. Mina pulled her top off, revealing her sexy lean back. Your eyes widened as she bent down to remove her shorts. You didn’t expect her slim body to have this much ass. Her big ass looks like it belongs to adult film stars. “Show me your cock.” She asked immediately. Your hard cock is now exposed, waiting for her huge ass to sit on it.

Her arm is holding the edge of the table, while the other is guiding your cock in her entrance. Mina slowly sits on it, feeling your thick cock widen her tight pussy. Without seeing her face, you can just imagine her grimacing with how big is your cock fitting inside her. Mina groans as your thick cock is halfway deep in her. Mina is now holding two hands on the table, holding tightly as she tries to squat her way down your cock. You groan as well as you can feel her your cock splitting open her pussy from the inside.

Mina let out a long moan as she finally engulfed your whole cock on her pussy. You look at how her big butt is resting on her crotch. Her slim back is leaning on the table. You hold her hips to help her move back up. The two of you moan again as you can feel all of her pussy as she moves up. The sound of her massive butt and your crotch colliding is filling the room. She moans every time you hit her deep in her pussy. You watch your cock appear in and out of her pussy.

Mina wants more, so she pulls away from your cock. Her body is now leaning on top of the table, her big ass is up waiting for your dick to fill her again. Mina groans as you slap her ass, leaving a red mark. Your hand grazes all parts of its massive butt as you still can’t believe she has this kind of ass. Mina felt your hands on her waist and anticipated your penetration. She moans loud again as your cock is going deep inside her once more. Her body bounces with your every thrust. You watched how her ass jiggled as pick up the pace. Mina is now screaming, “faster, faster, just like that!” You are certain that anyone could hear her as her high pitched moans are getting louder and louder. “I’m near, let me release.” Mina pleaded. You hold on to her hips tightly, her table is banging on the wall as you pound hard her massive round butt. Mina moans loud as you feel her release on your cock.

The two of you heard a knock from the door. “You know we could hear you from the outside, right?”

Momo and Sana are in front of the door.

End of part 4.

[lessserseller]

Pure Bliss

ft. TWICE's Mina

Words: 2,074 Tags: Daughter x Father, Taboo, Incest, Vanilla

Mina stepped through the front door of her family's modest home in Japan, the weight of her suitcase dragging behind her like an anchor. The flight from Seoul had been exhausting, her body aching from endless dance practices and schedules that blurred into one another. But as the familiar scent of home—warm rice and faint traces of her father's cologne—hit her, a wave of relief washed over her. She was finally back, after months of grueling work as an idol with Twice. At 24, Mina had transformed from the shy girl her father knew into a poised performer, but deep down, she craved the simplicity of their old life.

'Dad?' she called softly, kicking off her shoes in the genkan. Her voice echoed slightly in the quiet house. Footsteps hurried from the living room, and there he was—her father, Mr. Myoi, in his mid-50s, his salt-and-pepper hair tousled, wearing a simple button-up shirt and slacks from his day at the office. His face lit up, eyes crinkling with joy as he pulled her into a tight embrace.

'Mina! My girl, you're home!' He held her close, his arms strong around her slender frame. She buried her face in his shoulder, inhaling his scent, the one that always made her feel safe. 'I've missed you so much. Every day without you here... it's been empty.'

'I missed you more, Dad,' she whispered, her voice muffled against his shirt. Tears pricked her eyes as she clung to him. Their bond had always been special—closer than most father-daughter pairs. Growing up, before the idol life swept her away, they shared everything. Simple joys like watching movies late into the night or, most memorably, their bath times together. It started when she was little, a practical way for a single father to care for his daughter after her mother passed. Even as she entered her teens, it continued as a ritual of trust and affection, pure and innocent. They'd soak in the tub, chatting about her school days, his work troubles, washing each other's backs without a hint of awkwardness. It was their secret world, lovely and untainted.

But now, after years apart, Mina felt a shift. She pulled back slightly, smiling up at him, though her cheeks flushed a soft pink. 'I'm so tired. Can we... like old times? A bath to unwind?'

Her father's eyes softened, a flicker of nostalgia crossing his face. 'Of course, sweetheart. Just like before.' He took her suitcase and led her to the bathroom, the steam already rising from the ofuro he'd prepared earlier, anticipating her arrival. The room was warm, tiled in soft whites, the large tub filled with hot water scented by yuzu.

Mina nodded gratefully, her fingers hesitating at the buttons of her blouse. Undressing in front of him felt familiar yet strangely charged now, her heart pounding a little faster. She unbuttoned slowly, revealing the lacy edge of her bra, then let the fabric slip from her shoulders. Her skirt followed, pooling at her feet, exposing her long, toned legs. She reached behind to unclasp her bra, her full breasts tumbling free—soft mounds with pale pink nipples that tightened in the humid air. A shy glance at her father made her bite her lip, but she didn't stop. Hooking her thumbs into her panties, she slid them down, baring the smooth curve of her hips, the dark thatch of hair above her pussy, and the delicate slit between her thighs. Her skin was flawless, a pure white canvas that glowed under the light, her ass pert and rounded from rigorous training.

Her father had turned to grab fresh towels, but when he looked back, he froze. There she was, his little girl, but no longer little. Mina's naked body stood before him, a vision of womanly allure that hit him like a punch to the gut. Her breasts heaved with nervous breaths, nipples erect and inviting. Her waist nipped in before flaring to hips that promised softness, and lower, her pussy lips were slightly parted, a hint of moisture gathering from the steam—or perhaps anticipation. He swallowed hard, his throat tight, a rush of blood surging to his groin.

'Dad? You okay?' Mina asked, her voice small, arms instinctively crossing over her chest before she forced them down, cheeks burning crimson. She stepped into the tub, sinking into the water up to her collarbone, bubbles clinging to her skin. 'Come on, join me. It's been forever.'

He hesitated, his cock already stirring in his pants at the sight of her vulnerability mixed with that idol grace. 'Y-yeah, just... give me a second.' In the steamy privacy, he stripped off his shirt, revealing a chest dusted with gray hair, still solid from his routine jogs. Pants and boxers dropped next, his cock springing free, half-hard and veined, the thick shaft bobbing as he moved. He eased into the tub opposite her, the hot water doing little to cool the fire building inside him. His eyes traced her face, then dipped to the water's edge where her breasts bobbed just beneath.

They settled in, the water rippling gently. Mina sighed, leaning back, but her usual chatter was subdued, replaced by shy smiles. 'Tell me about work, Dad. I want to hear everything.' As he spoke of his mundane office days, she shifted closer, her foot accidentally brushing his calf. The touch made her pull back quickly, eyes widening, but he caught her hand under the water, squeezing gently.

'Tell me about your world, Mina. The stages, the lights... but mostly, how you've been feeling.' His voice was warm, encouraging.

She looked down, fingers twisting in the water. 'It's lonely sometimes. The dorms are full of noise, but I miss... this. Us. No pretending.' Her voice trembled, and she inched nearer, her knee now resting against his thigh. The proximity felt electric, her shyness making her pulse race.

'I missed this so much,' she murmured, reaching out tentatively to trace his forearm, her touch feather-light. 'Just us. No cameras, no schedules.' He felt his cock twitch fully erect now, pressing against his thigh under the surface.

'Mina... you've grown into such a beautiful woman,' he said, voice low and rough. His gaze lingered on her lips, then lower to the way the water beaded on her exposed collarbone. 'More than I ever imagined.'

Her blush deepened, spreading down her neck, but she didn't retreat. Instead, a curious spark lit in her eyes. 'Do you... really think so? I was always just your little girl.' The words carried a weight, innocent yet probing. She turned slowly, offering her back as in their old rituals. 'Wash me, Dad? Like before?'

His hands shook as he lathered the soap, the suds warm between his palms. He started at her shoulders, massaging in firm circles, feeling the tension melt from her muscles. She let out a soft hum, her body relaxing into his touch, head tilting back slightly. His fingers ventured lower, along her spine, thumbs pressing into the dimples above her ass. Mina shivered, not from cold, but from the unfamiliar thrill.

Emboldened by her lack of protest, he slid his hands around her sides, brushing the undersides of her breasts. She gasped quietly, stiffening for a moment, but then arched subtly, pressing into him. 'Dad... that feels...' She trailed off, shy but not stopping him.

'That feels good?' he prompted, his breath hot against her ear. One hand cupped her breast fully now, palm rolling the nipple until it stiffened into a hard peak. Mina nodded, biting her lip to stifle a whimper, her thighs clenching under the water.

The air thickened with unspoken desire. She turned in the tub to face him, water sloshing, her eyes wide and questioning. 'I... I don't know what's happening, but I don't want it to stop.' Her confession was whispered, laced with hesitation yet eagerness to discover more.

He pulled her closer, their bodies aligning, his erection nudging her belly. 'Let me show you how much I've missed taking care of you,' he murmured, guiding her to sit on the tub's edge, legs parted shyly. Mina's heart hammered, her pussy exposed above the water, lips swelling with arousal, a trickle of wetness escaping despite the bath.

'Dad, wait... is this okay?' she asked, voice quivering, hands hovering as if to cover herself but dropping instead, willing to let him lead.

'It's more than okay, sweetheart. Trust me.' He knelt between her legs, the water lapping at his chest. His hands gripped her thighs, spreading them wider, exposing her fully—pink folds glistening, clit peeking from its hood. Mina's breath hitched, a mix of embarrassment and excitement flushing her skin.

He leaned in, inhaling her musky scent, then pressed a soft kiss to her inner thigh. She jolted, fingers gripping the tub's rim. 'Oh... Dad...' Slowly, he trailed kisses upward, tongue flicking out to taste her skin, inching toward her core. When his mouth finally covered her pussy, lips sealing around her clit, Mina cried out, back arching.

He sucked gently at first, tongue circling the sensitive nub, savoring her sweetness. Her juices coated his lips, tangy and fresh, as he lapped at her slit, delving inside to probe her entrance. Mina's shyness melted into moans, her hips bucking tentatively against his face. 'That... feels so strange... but good,' she panted, one hand threading into his wet hair, not pulling away but exploring the sensation.

Encouraged, he ate her out with fervor, tongue thrusting deep into her tight channel, then flattening to lick broad strokes over her clit. His fingers joined, one sliding along her folds to circle her hole before pushing inside, curling to hit that spongy spot. Mina's walls clenched around the intrusion, her body trembling as pleasure built. She watched through half-lidded eyes, fascinated and aroused by the sight of her father's head buried between her legs, his cheeks hollowing as he devoured her.

'Please... don't stop,' she begged softly, her free hand cupping her own breast, pinching the nipple as he'd done earlier. Waves of heat coiled in her belly, unfamiliar but intoxicating. He added a second finger, stretching her, pumping in rhythm with his tongue's assault on her clit. Her thighs quivered, pressing against his ears, and soon she shattered—pussy spasming, flooding his mouth with her release as she keened, 'Dad! Yes!'

He licked her through the aftershocks, cleaning every drop until she slumped, breathless and dazed. Pulling back, his face shone with her essence, cock throbbing painfully hard. 'You taste incredible, Mina. My beautiful girl.'

She looked at him with wide, post-orgasmic eyes, shyness returning but tempered by a newfound boldness. 'I... I want to feel you inside me now. Please?'

He stood, lifting her effortlessly, her legs wrapping around his waist. The water made their skin slick; he positioned his cock at her entrance, the bulbous head nudging her soaked folds. 'Are you sure?' he asked, giving her an out, but she nodded eagerly, arms around his neck.

With a slow thrust, he sank into her, her pussy gripping him like a vice, still fluttering from her climax. Mina gasped at the fullness, brows furrowing in a mix of discomfort and delight. 'It's so big... Dad...' He paused, letting her adjust, then began to move—deep, measured strokes that filled her completely.

She clung to him, nails digging into his back as he fucked her steadily, water splashing with each plunge. Her breasts pressed against his chest, nipples dragging across his skin. 'Harder... I can take it,' she whispered, exploring the edge of pain and pleasure, her hips rolling to meet him.

He gripped her ass, fingers kneading the firm cheeks, one digit teasing her puckered hole as he pounded faster. His balls slapped against her with wet smacks, cock pistoning in and out of her dripping pussy. Mina's second orgasm crested quickly, her walls milking him as she sobbed in ecstasy, biting his shoulder.

'Cum for me again, baby,' he growled, thrusting erratically now. She did, her release triggering his—cock swelling, then erupting, hot spurts of cum painting her insides, overflowing to mix with the bathwater.

They collapsed together, panting, his softening length still buried in her. Mina nuzzled his neck, a shy smile breaking through. 'I love you, Dad. More than ever.' He kissed her forehead, knowing this taboo exploration had bound them deeper, promising more intimate discoveries ahead.

[naburi]

THREE SISTERS AND ONE TUTOR

MOMO X SANA X MINA X READER

TAGS: TEASING, BODY WORSHIPING

2.1K WORDS

“Do I really need to do this?” The eldest daughter whines like she’s not capable enough to do a math problem. “You are excellent at this!” The second one keeps finding reasons to hold your hand during the study session. “If I finish this early, would you play with me?” The youngest one keeps bargaining with you.

It’s stressful enough to be a college student, you are working part-time as a tutor. You thought having three sisters as your client is a blessing, but in no time you found yourself in a difficult situation. Three students, three study sessions for a day.

“I heard you are a good tutor, my friend recommended you. You taught her daughter before.” Their mother welcomes you in their living room. “I have a knack for making other students understand things easier.” You excelled in class from a young age. “Where do you find the patience to teach? Not everyone can do that” you are soon to find out the limit of your patience.

You saw a glimpse of a woman, quickly walking in the dining hall. “Is that the youngest daughter?” The mother laughed, “everyone says that, she’s actually the first born.” She said while laughing in a modest manner. “Momo, say hi to your tutor,” the eldest took a peak from a distance. She has short hair, wearing a loose tank top.

You suspect that she is not wearing anything underneath as her boobs shaped the top perfectly. You felt awkward just thinking about your new client in that way. Momo didn’t even take the time to greet you. She walks upstairs carrying snacks. A few minutes go by, a fine woman walks down the same stairs.

You saw the slender flawless legs descending from the stairs. Their mother is saying something but you are too focused on anticipating the full silhouette of the woman. She is wearing shorts that are barely hiding anything, her long hair resting on her shoulders, “Sana, meet your tutor!” The mother is proud to present her second daughter. For all she knows, she is the most sought out woman in the city. She thought it’s because of how captivating her beauty is but she didn’t know that her daughter’s personality is what hypnotizes all the men.

“Hello, oppa!” The woman extended her hand for a hand shake. You heard about Sana before from other men who admire her but this is the first time you saw her in person. You look at her like a fan seeing their favorite idol. You are just in awe of her presence. You feel somehow blessed that you are able to shake her hand. Sana giggles looking at your astonished face.

Sana catches your hand, now in between her two hands. “I’ll be a good student to you, oppa!” Sana assures you with a pretty smile on her face. Her mother laughs at your reaction. This snaps you out from the trance that her daughter puts you through. Sana goes take a glass of water on the way back upstairs and she’s holding a metal spoon? You wonder why she needs one.

“Three clients, three study sessions per day, three times a week.” You finished arranging the terms with their mother. Their first study session with you will start on Friday, two days from now. “It’s nice to meet you.” The two of you exchanged words before saying goodbye. Walking to the door, a woman opens it from the other side.

She has pitch black hair unlike the two sisters. She is wearing metallic glasses with her gloomy eyes. You find her attractive but that is not the first thing that you notice. You felt intimidated before she even looked you in the eyes. “Oh just in time, this is Mina, my youngest daughter.” Her mother introduced her serious daughter. Mina gave you a polite smile before walking past you. You look back trying to see more of the woman, your eyes glued to her before she is out of your sight. Her black her contrasting pale skin gives her a different look compared to her two sisters. “Don’t worry about her, she will talk to you once she’s comfortable with you!” Her mother assures you.

“Does she need a tutor?” Your mind wanders as you’re riding your scooter on the way home. You have two days to prepare the materials from their individual study session. The session will go with their birth order. The session starts with Momo, then Sana, and Mina is the last.

You knock on the door with enthusiasm. You want to have a good first start with the study session in order for you to build rapport with them. “You can go upstairs, Momo is waiting for you.” Their mother guides you upstairs. Momo’s room is the first door on the right. You walk upstairs lightly, excited to do the first session. You knock on the door three times but no one is opening the door.

“Is she really in the room?” You questioned yourself before knocking again. The door opened almost violently, “Jeez, I heard it the first time, can’t you wait?” You are stunned by her rough behavior. “I-I’m sorry to bother you.” You stuttered as you were still gathering yourself.

Momo directed you to her study table, it’s full of makeup and school supplies. You are silently sitting while she cleans up the table, by cleaning up you mean she just pushes things out of the way to make just enough room for the two of you to study.

You pull your stuff out of your backpack. Momo already looks distressed by the papers in your hand. It’s a sample math problem that they are currently having with their college course.

“Do I really need to do this?” The eldest daughter whines like she’s not capable enough to do a math problem. “Haven’t you taken a similar test before?” You asked her, trying to keep your straight face. You already feel small by how she treats you earlier. You want to assert yourself in order for her to see you as her tutor.

“Yes, but I had a low grade.” Momo's voice goes silent as if she is embarrassed to admit it. “That’s why we are here to practice it” you said, trying to uplift the woman. The whiney daughter already feels dizzy just by looking at the test questions. She doesn’t like thinking too much. “O-okay, I’ll do it.” She said as raises both of her hands to scratch her head in annoyance. This gives you a full view of her heavy boobs. She is wearing a tank top again but this time you can see she’s wearing a bra underneath.

Momo didn’t need any second to notice your eyes are fixated on her boobs. Without even saying a word, you can sense that her mood completely changed. You don’t want to think too much about it but the woman starts answering her test immediately. You are looking at her answer as she’s doing it but you also can see something else. With you sitting beside her, you have a great view of her deep cleavage, her bra is not helping as it might push her boobs up to make it seem more fuller.

Momo acts oblivious about this but she intentionally exposes her boobs for you to see. She likes seeing you try hard not to get caught on how her tutor is maliciously looking at her client’s huge boobs. She wants to see you struggle and your face says it all. You look nervous as you know that what you're doing is wrong, but how can you resist? Momo’s boobs have a recoil when her arm is hitting her huge tits while writing. You haven’t caught on to it yet that the girl is intentionally messing with you.

Momo’s eyes are quickly taking a look at you, “I’m done! See you next session!” She declared. Looking at her paper, she only answers the first question,”But you just finished the first item?” You said in confusion. “I don’t feel like finishing it! This is just the first session, it should not be stressful!” The girl whined again, making it seem that you’re making things hard for her. This is not the first time you deal with an uncooperative client, some children really do not like studying but she seems too old to still be acting like this.

“Okay, okay, just do half of it, you can do that right?” It is a 50 item questionnaire. She surely can answer 25 items in it. Momo just stared at you looking more annoyed than earlier. The woman doesn’t say a word, seemingly thinking about what she should do. “I’ll show you my boobs, but I’ll only answer the first page!” She said, it doesn’t sound like you have a choice. Momo is staring at you, wanting to see a glimpse of your thoughts. You are perplexed just by thinking about it. “Is she for real?” You asked in your head. A smirk forms in her lips as she waits for your response. “I didn’t hear a No,” she said.

Momo pulled her top up, revealing her bra underneath, it cups her huge boobs the best it can. She reached from the back to unclip it, it only lasted a few seconds but it seems like you can’t wait any further to see her boobs. Finally, she pulled off her bra, tossing it to her bed. Momo trying to cover it with her one arm, teasing you with it. “Is this enough for you?” She already knows the answer to that question but she just wants to mess with you more. “I-I, covering your tits while answering might distract you.” Momo laughed as she was amazed at how you came up with that.

“Fine, fine, you got me with that one,” she giggled. Momo removed her arm to uncover her huge boobs. You are in awe by how big they are, her nipples look small compared to how massive her tits are but that adds more to the allure of her more big assets. Momo holds her boobs with each hand to jiggle them in front of you. The woman is happy to see your shellshock facial expression.

“You want to touch them?” Momo smiles as she’s teasing you. You didn’t answer verbally but your hand is closing in into her boobs. Your mind only wants to get a hold of her Asian big tits, they look like those what you’re watching in porn sites. Your eyes are locked in on those boobs, you can see a glimpse of her smiling but you didn’t care. You don’t mind if she’s making fun of you, you want your fingers to just sink on those massive tits of hers.

“I don’t have to study!” Momo murmured in ecstaticly. Your eyes widen as this reminds you of your purpose here in the first place. You pull back, leaning on the back seat of the chair, not wanting to do anything with her boobs anymore. “I’ll touch them after you finish the 10 questions.” You said with a shaky stern voice. You are trying to compose yourself while your body feels hot with the situation you are in.

“You are no fun!” Momo shouted at you, she thought she already won and didn't need to do the test questions. The girl angrily started answering the following items. She wants this to be done already and you do too. Momo is writing hastily, her body is almost moving as she writes so aggressively, her boobs are swaying with her every move. Momo continues answering while your eyes examine her naked top half.

Momo has a small waist with abs peaking out her stomach. She has lean, strong arms that let you know she’s doing some form of exercises. Her lean body just makes her boobs look more huge. “Just hang in there! I’m almost finished!” She said but in reality she isn’t even close to it. “I know you want my boobs, you want to suck them?” The woman asked before looking at you to see your reaction.

The timer from your phone rings. It’s already been an hour, it’s the second daughter's turn to have a study session and you need to go to the other room. You and Momo lock eyes, not knowing what to do next. “Yahoo, I don’t need to finish this!” The woman stands up in excitement, relieved that she manages to not do those sample questions. “Study time is over, you can touch them next time,” Momo winks at you.

End of part 1.

[ark2-2]

‘Til It's Early Part 2

Le Sserafim’s Kim Chaewon x Male Reader

2.4k words  Kazuha's thoughts

A/N: Hey, folks! School's been keeping me busy but dw, I'll still put in the work to become a better writer. Thank you for the support and I hope y'all enjoy part 2✌️

That night, you were gonna let the whole neighborhood know who she belonged to and what only you can do to her.

"We're just getting started, my love"

— — — — — — — — — — — — — —

The two of you were now laying in bed, looking into each other's eyes. Chaewon's breathing returned to normal but the night was far from over.

“That was crazy,” she said as your breathing started to synchronize. 

“And it'll get crazier,” you replied before pulling her close and kissing those soft lips. 

She moaned into the kiss, your hands squeezed her ass, and hers found your cock. The way her hands felt and the way she skillfully stroked your hard member made you stay like that for a while. You felt her smile while the two of you kissed. 

“I need this cock. Inside me. Right now.” Chaewon said in between kisses.

“Patience, my love,” you said before trailing kisses down to her jaw, behind her ear, and taking your time around her neck. 

“Mmh, Y/N, you're gonna drive me insane” your needy wife moaned as her hands slid to your hair.

After leaving hickeys on her neck, you moved lower and lower. To her collarbone, cleavage, tits, stomach, and all the way down to her thighs. All the while, your hands slid around her body, feeling the smoothness of her skin.

Chaewon stayed still, legs spread, hands gripping the sheets. She knew what was coming and she kept watching as your hands slid down to her legs and your lips kissed her inner thighs, closer and closer to where she needed you to be. 

Her breath hitched as you got really close and as you finally got rid of those wet panties. Sticking your tongue out, you licked her wet folds slowly, savoring the taste. 

Your wife has always been a great singer. From friends to relatives, everybody knew that but only you knew how hot and addictive her moans were. 

Hearing her now, the way she surrendered to your touch, and the way she's letting you do anything and everything drove you crazy. 

No more stopping, no more holding back. You were gonna give her your all. You dove in.

You pushed your tongue deeper into her, tongue-fucking that lovely pussy. The sudden intrusion made Chaewon grab your hair. She grabbed it tight, like she was going to pull all your hair off your head, but you didn't stop. 

Two fingers went in, thrusting, curling, hitting that G-spot while you licked and sucked on her clit. Chaewon was now moaning loudly. Back arched, legs spread wide, head tilted back, and this time you were sure that the neighbors could hear it all. 

“ffuuck yess! ohh..babe, yes! don't- stop..”

You weren't going to. When her hips would lift, you pushed her down. When she pulled you closer, your fingers went faster and you sucked harder. Your wife was a moaning mess. 

It felt like heaven. Her moans were music to your ears, her love juices tasted perfect, her pussy was tightening around your fingers. She was close..when all of a sudden, her phone rang.

Kazuha

“mhh w-wait..stop, stop” Chaewon tried to push your head away but you didn't budge. 

“No, no..Y/N!!” a high-pitched scream as she came, legs trembling. Her left hand managed to grip the pillow but her right hand fell right on her phone, on the low bedside table. 

“What’s happening?? Is everything ok?” you heard Kazuha on the phone.

Chaewon was panting and you were busy eating her up.

“Hello?? Are you ok?” Kazuha asked again.

You slowly pulled your fingers out and playfully slapped your wife's ass.

“Count,” you reminded her.

“F-four” she said as she was catching her breath.

“Four? four what? Can you hear me? Are you ok?” slight panic in Kazuha’s voice.

You reached for the phone and gave it to Chaewon, signalling her to answer. 

“Zuha, I'm ok. I'm actually feeling really ngH good” she felt you put your fingers back in.

“You don't sound ok. What's really going on?” The girl on the phone sounded really concerned. 

Your wife didn't say anything but you could tell that her pussy lips were ready for more. 

“Stay on the call. I want her to hear how good I make you feel.” you commanded and dove back in. 

“Z-zuha…AH, i-i’m sorry mMh. He wants you- to listen” Chaewon was struggling to speak and keep her arms up so she dropped the phone beside her and grabbed your hair again.

Like a wild and hungry animal, you ate like it was a feast and your fingers hit all the good spots as you added a third finger. 

“shit, he’s-.. eating me so good, zuha. F-fuck, his tongue..” Kazuha grew silent on the phone.

What's happening? Are they..doing it?

With your free hand, you slapped Chaewon's ass hard, making sure it was heard on the call. Continuing your assault on her sensitive pussy, you reached up with your free hand to squeeze those supple breasts and pinch her pink nipples.

“AH, Y/N! yess, m-make me cum!” Chaewon no longer cared about who was on the phone.

S-sex, they're having..sex

and he wants me… to listen. 

You thought the call had ended ‘cause it was too quiet. You were about to check on it when you suddenly heard the younger girl speak again.

“Wh-what about..that?” Kazuha asked shyly.

Your mouth and hands were busy so you slapped your girl's ass again, making her answer. 

“aah..s-say..again..” is all Chaewon managed to say.

None of you could see the girl on the other end of the phone but you had a strong feeling her cheeks turned red when she asked..

“What about..his..thing?”

Her curiosity along with how Chaewon's bra that had loosened up as she kept squirming, now letting you see more of her, turned you on even more. 

“Make her say it or I won't give it to you.” You told your wife.

“N-no..please..ngh. Zuha- say..you have to- say it” she begged.

“B-but..” she was hesitant but eventually, “what about his dick??” Kazuha asked, increasing the volume of her voice in embarrassment. 

“BABE, I'm- close..ffuu- FIIVEE!” Chaewon interrupted, screaming as you made her cum a fifth time.

You let her calm down and catch her breath while you teased the other curious girl.

“Kazuha,” you said, “be honest with me.”

“do what.. he says” breathless, Chaewon tries to convince Kazuha.

“While I was ‘busy’ with Chaewon's little pussy, were you touching yourself?”

“I uhm.. th-thought about it but..”

“But what, Zuha?” you asked.

mmh, why does his voice sound so hot?

“I was only..rubbing my thighs.. together” she felt embarrassed but you all knew she was getting horny.

“And what were you curious about?” you teased her further. “Say it, Zuha. You won't get an answer and I won't put it in Chaewon if you don't say it.” 

“Zuha, pleeasee..” your wife pleaded.

What felt like 2 minutes passed by before the curious and now horny girl finally answered.

“Your..dick” she sounded almost as needy as Chaewon.

“Good girls” praising both women. “Here's your reward.” 

You lifted your wife, making her straddle you like a cowgirl as your back hit the mattress. Not forgetting about Kazuha, you grabbed Chaewon's phone and switched it to a video call.

The first thing Kazuha saw was Chaewon. The only thing left on her was that black bra that you finally got rid of as soon as you noticed that the camera was on. 

Your cock stood erect, pre-cum leaking from the tip. Zuha’s eyes widened at the sight and her mouth opened like she wanted to taste it. 

“Daddy please..” the horny girl, who was straddling you, begged.

She needed you and you needed her. 

With the phone in your right hand, you held Chaewon's hips with your left. No words were needed. She immediately aligned you to her wet, needy, entrance and impaled herself. 

“AaHh..mMh, yeesss..” her eyes rolled back as she moaned. 

That look she made was so lewd.

The feeling of her tight and slippery wet folds made you groan. Kazuha saw it all and heard you both. She bit her lip trying not to let out a moan.

“Fuuck, I want to feel that too..” the girl on the phone was no longer shy but full of need.

You slapped your wife's ass, signalling her to start moving. She started rocking her hips back and forth, feeling you stretch her. Another slap made her go slightly faster and you could feel how her pussy was adjusting to the shape and size of your cock. 

On the other end of the call, Kazuha was whimpering and whining like a needy slut. She held her phone with one hand while the other hand was on her chest, her fingers playing with her nipples through the thin fabric of her shirt. 

You slapped Chaewon’s left tit but it made both girls react. 

“Should we let her join? Or make her beg first?” you asked your horny wife who was now riding like a true cowgirl, lifting herself up and down your length, tits bouncing, hands on your torso for support. 

“W-what..aah..whatever..uugh- whatever.. daddy..wants” she managed to reply.

“Pleeaasee” a breathy plea from Kazuha. Her phone is now at an angle where you can see almost all of her. Eyes teary, cheeks flushed, thighs rubbing together needily, and her hand still paid attention to her chest but was now under her shirt. 

She was ready to beg, ready to do anything, but you wanted proof.

“Show us. Strip and beg.” You said as you placed the phone down at an angle where both you and Chaewon could see her and she could see the two of you.

“Touch yourself while we fuck.” you commanded. “Do that, and we might.. let you join us.”  

As soon as she heard that, it was like she was put under a spell that made her do everything you say. She immediately stripped naked, almost falling over and dropping her phone. 

Your wife, however, wasn’t paying attention. Lost in the pleasure, in love with you and obsessed with your cock. Bending your knees, you thrust upward, snapping her back to reality and making her fall forward. She yelps as Kazuha hurriedly tries to find the best angle with her phone. 

“Z-zuha..hurry” you had your cock deep inside Chaewon’s tight cunt but you weren’t moving, enjoying the feeling of how you had two girls needy for your big hard cock. 

She was on top of you, hands gripping the pillow, her face buried on the crook of your neck. You knew Kazuha was ready, fully naked with her legs far apart, already fucking herself with two fingers, but your desperate wife didn’t. She couldn’t see the needy girl on the phone and you were happily teasing her. 

When you were satisfied, you wrapped your arms around Chaewon’s small frame and set a punishing pace. She began screaming and moaning, you nearly went deaf in one ear. 

“AAHHH, YEESS! Oh fuuuck! So deep uugh..z-zuhaa Aaahhh, he’s- he’s stretching meee”

“Y/N! PLEASE please pleaaseee..mMmH please aah, let me- join” Kazuha begged and you could see her trying to match your pace as she masturbated on camera. 

You slowed down a little but kept thrusting hard. Loosening your grip, you slid your hands down and started slapping her ass cheeks. 

“What *slap* do you *slap* think *SLAP*, Chaewon-ah? *SLAP*” 

“AH! Daddy, H-harder!” she was lost in the pleasure, drunk on your cock.

You replied to Kazuha, “You heard her. Try harder. Beg with all of you”

You knew that’s not what Chaewon meant but you said it anyway and went rougher on your wife. Your cock, slick with juices, slipped out with a wet pop when you flipped your girl around, making her squirt a little.

Her back was now on your chest, her knuckles turning white as she grabbed the sheets and her legs spread themselves wide without needing to be told. You slipped back inside her easily with how soaking wet she was, your left hand went to those tits that fit your hand perfectly and you started flicking and pinching her cute nipples while your right hand slid down to her clit, rubbing small circles.

“Oooh god, yeesss! Right there! Ffuuck” your little slut moaned. “Zuha, he’s- SO..uugh BIG- Ah- it feels so good”

Both of you looked to where the phone was and saw Kazuha add a third finger inside her little pink pussy.

“Y/N.. Chaewon.. Please! I’m close.. I think- I’m gonna cum. Pleasee, oh please I want that dick inside me! Please y/n, I NEED your dick in my pussy!” a more high pitched plea as she experienced a toe-curling orgasm. Legs trembling, girl-cum spilling out onto her hand and onto the sheets. 

“Mmmh, oh Daddy! Ah b-babe, don’t stop! I’m gonna cum..I’m gonna cum on your cock” She tightened around you as she came. 

Her legs went limp but you didn’t stop pounding into her. She was squeezing so tight yet it felt so good. Your hands held her hips as you felt yourself get closer and closer to your own release.

“I’m cumming. Take it like the good little slut you are” you growled into her ear, slapped her tits, and released with one final deep thrust. 

Rope after rope of thick hot cum painted her insides, filling her up. You stayed like that for a while, all three of you panting and drenched in sweat. Looking at the phone again, you saw that Kazuha already had the phone in her hand, still watching. 

You did the same and picked up the phone but instead of showing your face, you gave her a view of your cock covered in a mix of you and your wife’s love juices and a view of Chaewon’s stretched out pussy, cum leaking out like a waterfall. 

“Six” you heard Chaewon say with a weak voice, it sounded like a whisper.

Smiling, you whispered back, “Good girl” and kissed her cheek. 

You still had enough energy in you for one more round but your wife already passed out on top of you. Her skin still smooth, her beauty still radiant, even when she was covered in sweat. You just smiled, gently laid her down beside you and kissed her forehead. 

“Y/N?” you heard on the phone.

“Yes, Zuha. You’re next.” 

[shin-requiem]

Highway Heat ft. Yeji

~9,000 words, public/risky sex, creampie, squirting, oral, edging, light dom/sub, consensual fun. 18+ only.

The engine hums low as you pull out of the underground parking garage, the city lights of Seoul fading in the rearview mirror like distant stars winking out. Yeji sits shotgun, her knees tucked up under her oversized hoodie, the soft fabric brushing against her bare thighs. The air in the car carries her faint vanilla perfume, mixing with the leather scent of the seats—a comforting, intimate bubble as the world outside blurs.

She fiddles with the playlist on her phone, her fingers tapping lightly on the screen, queuing up something soft and lo-fi with gentle beats that pulse like a heartbeat. “This is nice,” she murmurs, her voice small and hesitant, like she’s testing the waters. “Just… us. No schedules, no one watching.”

You glance over, catching the way her cheeks flush faintly pink under the dashboard glow. “Yeah. No rush. No rules,” you reply, your voice low, laced with promise.

Her eyes flick to you, lingering a second too long before darting away. “No rules,” she echoes, biting her bottom lip, the soft pink flesh caught between her teeth. You can almost hear the quickened rhythm of her breathing over the music.

The first hour is tame, almost teasingly so. City traffic thins into highway lanes, neon signs blurring past in streaks of red and blue. Your hand rests on the gear shift, close enough that every shift brushes her thigh—warm, smooth skin that sends a spark up your arm. She doesn’t move away. Instead, she shifts slightly, letting her leg press firmer against your fingers, the heat of her seeping through.

At a long red light on the outskirts, where the city gives way to darker roads, you let your hand slide higher, under the hem of her soft cotton shorts. Your fingertips graze the edge of her panties—lace, you realize, delicate and already slightly damp. She sucks in a breath, sharp and audible, her chest rising under the hoodie.

“Not yet,” she whispers, but her thighs part just a fraction, betraying her words. Her voice is breathy, laced with nervousness and want.

The light turns green, bathing the car in a brief emerald glow. You ease forward, fingers dipping beneath the fabric. She’s warm, slick already, her arousal coating your skin like silk. You circle her clit slowly, teasing with feather-light pressure. Yeji’s hand flies to her mouth, muffling a tiny whimper that vibrates against her palm. A truck rumbles past in the next lane, its diesel exhaust faintly wafting through the vents; the driver glances over briefly, his silhouette shadowy. She tenses, her thighs clenching around your wrist like a vice, muscles quivering.

“They’re looking,” she hisses, her voice shaky, eyes wide with a mix of fear and thrill. You can feel her pulse racing under your touch.

“Let them,” you murmur, pressing a finger inside her, curling it against that sensitive spot. She jolts, hips twitching forward involuntarily, a soft gasp escaping. The scent of her arousal fills the car now—musky, sweet, intoxicating.

By the time you hit the open highway, her breathing is ragged, chest heaving. She’s soaked your fingers, rocking subtly against your hand while pretending to watch the scenery whip by: dark fields, occasional farm lights twinkling like stars. “Pull over,” she finally breathes, her voice cracking with need. “Somewhere… quiet. I can’t—oh god—I need you now.”

You find a rest area exit—empty at this hour, just a few dim sodium lights casting orange halos over cracked pavement and a row of vending machines humming faintly. You park in the farthest spot, shadowed by rustling trees that whisper in the night breeze. The second the car stops, Yeji’s on you, her movements frantic.

She climbs halfway into your lap, her hoodie falling back to reveal messy hair framing her flushed face, lips parted and glistening. Her mouth crashes into yours, desperate and hungry, tasting of mint from her gum and the salt of her skin. “I’ve been wet since the first light,” she confesses between kisses, her tongue darting against yours. “Couldn’t stop thinking about your fingers… how they feel inside me. Please, touch me more.”

You push her shorts and panties down her thighs in one swift motion; she kicks them off clumsily, the fabric whispering against the seats. Straddling you properly now, the car rocks slightly as she grinds against your bulge, the friction hot through your jeans. You unzip, freeing yourself—the cool air contrasting with your heated skin. She’s dripping, her wetness slick against you as she slides down in one fluid motion, enveloping you completely.

“Fuck—” she gasps, her head falling back against the roof with a soft thud. The tight heat of her pulses around you, walls fluttering. You thrust up hard, hands gripping her hips, fingers digging into soft flesh. The windows fog almost instantly, beads of condensation trickling down like sweat. She rides you fast, needy, small moans spilling out—high-pitched, breathy. A car passes on the highway below, headlights sweeping across the lot in a brief flash. She freezes for a second, breath hitching—then moans louder, grinding down harder, her nails scraping your shoulders through your shirt.

“Someone might see,” she pants, but her hips don’t stop, rolling in desperate circles. Her skin is fever-hot, slick with a sheen of sweat that makes her glow in the dim light.

“Good,” you growl, smacking her ass lightly—the sound a sharp crack in the confined space. She yelps, a mix of surprise and pleasure, then clenches around you tighter, her arousal dripping down your thighs.

She cums first—hard, sudden, her body seizing as a gush of wetness soaks your lap and the seat, the scent intensifying, warm and heady. She squirts messily, trembling violently, her face buried in your neck, hot breath fanning your skin. “Oh god… sorry, I—it’s everywhere,” she whimpers, voice muffled, embarrassed but still rocking through the aftershocks.

“Don’t apologize,” you rasp, keeping thrusting through it, the slick sounds obscene. When you cum inside her, filling her deep with hot pulses, she whimpers and kisses you sloppily, tongues tangling messily, like she can’t get enough. You taste her moans.

After, she stays in your lap, catching her breath, her body limp and warm against yours. “That was… insane,” she whispers, shy again now that the adrenaline’s fading, her fingers tracing lazy circles on your chest. She glances at the wet spot on your jeans, the leather seat glistening. “We need to clean up. It smells like… us in here.”

You laugh softly, the sound rumbling in your chest, and grab napkins from the glovebox. She helps, blushing furiously, her hands trembling slightly as she wipes at the mess.

Back on the road, the dynamic shifts palpably. She’s bolder now, the air thick with lingering arousal and the hum of the engine. An hour later, as you cruise through dark countryside—fields whispering with wind, distant cow moos punctuating the night—she reaches over and palms you through your pants, her touch firm and teasing.

“Again?” you ask, amused, your voice husky from earlier exertion.

She smirks—an actual smirk, her lips curving wickedly in the dashboard light. “You started it,” she purrs, her fingers tracing the outline of your growing hardness. The zipper rasps down slowly, teasingly, cool air hitting your skin. Her fingers wrap around your length, stroking you to full hardness with deliberate pumps, her thumb circling the tip slick with residual arousal. “I’ve been thinking about this,” she murmurs, voice low and husky, a far cry from her earlier shyness. “About how good you taste… how you’d feel in my mouth while we’re flying down the road. The vibrations from the car… god, it’s turning me on just imagining it.”

You grip the wheel tighter, knuckles whitening, trying to focus on the lane lines as they streak by under the headlights. “Yeji, you’re killing me,” you groan, the leather creaking under your hands.

She leans across the console, her hair brushing your thigh like silk, sending shivers up your spine. Her breath is hot against your skin as she hovers, teasing. Her lips part, tongue flicking out to trace the tip, collecting the bead of precum with a hum of approval that vibrates through you. “Mmm, salty… just how I like it,” she whispers, her voice sultry. Then she takes you in—slow at first, just the head, sucking gently while her hand pumps the base, twisting slightly for extra friction.

“Fuck, Yeji…” you groan, eyes darting between the road and her bobbing head, her hair falling like a curtain.

She looks up at you through her lashes, eyes dark with lust, pupils blown wide, and takes you deeper. Inch by inch, until her nose brushes your abdomen, the scent of her shampoo—floral and sweet—mixing with the musk of arousal. She gags softly but doesn’t pull back, throat tightening around you as she swallows, the constriction milking you. The car’s engine hums in rhythm with her movements, wet sounds filling the confined space—slurping, moaning, the occasional pop when she pulls off to catch her breath, strings of saliva glistening in the passing lights.

A semi-truck roars past on the left, its headlights illuminating the interior for a split second, casting shadows that dance across her face. Yeji freezes, your cock still buried in her mouth, her lips stretched around you—but then she moans louder, the thrill making her bolder. “What if they saw?” she mumbles around you, the words vibrating intensely. She starts bobbing faster, hollowing her cheeks, tongue swirling relentlessly in wet, hot patterns. Her free hand slips between her own thighs, rubbing herself through her shorts with frantic circles; you can hear the faint squelch of her arousal, smell it thickening the air.

“You’re gonna make me crash,” you warn, but your hips buck up instinctively, fucking into her mouth, the heat and suction overwhelming.

She pulls off with a wet pop, strings of saliva connecting her swollen lips to your tip, shining in the dim light. “Then pull over if you can’t handle it,” she teases, voice breathy and wrecked, her chin glistening. “But I want you to cum like this—right here, while we’re moving.” She dives back down before you can respond, deepthroating you again, gagging purposefully this time to tighten around you, her throat convulsing.

The pressure builds fast—too fast, a coiling heat in your gut. Your hand tangles in her hair, guiding her rhythm, fingers threading through soft strands damp with sweat. She senses it, sucking harder, humming vibrations that make your toes curl, the sound low and throaty. When a cluster of cars passes, one honking playfully (did they see? The thought sends a spike of adrenaline), it’s too much. “Yeji—fuck—I’m cumming,” you growl, spilling down her throat in hot, thick pulses. She swallows greedily, her throat working around you, milking every drop, her own fingers moving frantically until she shudders through a small orgasm of her own, a muffled whine escaping.

Finally, she sits back, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, lips swollen and shiny, tasting of you. “Better?” she asks, that shy smile creeping back, but her eyes are still wild, pupils dark.

“Much,” you manage, heart pounding, the taste of her kiss lingering on your mind. “But now it’s your turn. You earned it.”

The night deepens, the highway a ribbon of black under a canopy of stars. You pull off at a scenic overlook—empty, the air crisp with salt from the distant ocean, waves crashing faintly below like a rhythmic heartbeat. She drags you to the back seat, the door clicking shut with a soft thud, sealing you in. No more hesitation. She strips fully this time, hoodie whispering off to reveal her flawless skin—toned from endless dance practices, curves that glow ethereal in the moonlight filtering through the windows. Her nipples pebble in the cool air, begging for touch.

She pushes you down onto the blanket, the fabric rough against your back. “My turn to drive,” she says, voice husky, climbing on top. Reverse cowgirl, facing the view—the dark ocean shimmering, stars twinkling like diamonds. She sinks onto you slowly, inch by torturous inch, her wetness enveloping you in scorching heat, walls fluttering as she adjusts. “God, you’re so big… filling me up completely,” she moans, her head tipping back, long hair cascading down her back like a waterfall.

Then she starts moving—slow rolls at first, grinding her hips in deliberate circles to feel you deep, her ass pressing against your abdomen with each rotation. The scent of sex saturates the car—sweat, arousal, her vanilla lingering. “Feel that? How wet I am for you?” she pants, her voice breathy.

You reach around, one hand cupping her breast, rolling the nipple between fingers until she arches, a gasp tearing from her throat. The skin is soft, warm, pebbled under your touch. The other hand slides to her clit, rubbing firm circles through her slick folds. “Faster,” you command, thrusting up to meet her, the slap of skin echoing.

She obeys, riding you like she’s possessed—bouncing now, ass slapping against you with each drop, the car creaking under the force, suspension groaning. Her moans turn to cries, echoing off the rocks outside—high, desperate. “Right there—fuck, yes—don’t stop touching me!” The windows fog thick, droplets racing down like tears.

You feel it building: her walls clench rhythmically, then release in a flood. She squirts hard, gushing over your cock and thighs, soaking the blanket in warm spurts, the liquid trickling down. “I’m cumming—oh god, it’s so much!” she cries, body trembling, but she keeps grinding through it, prolonging the high, her movements slicker, louder, obscene squelches filling the air.

But you’re not done. You flip her onto her back with a growl, pinning her wrists above her head with one hand—the blanket bunching under her. She’s pliant now, submissive, eyes glazed with lust, lips parted and swollen. “More,” she begs, voice raw. “Fuck me harder. I need it—please.”

You do—pounding into her, skin slapping skin, the angle hitting that spot deep inside that makes her see stars, her back arching off the seat. She wraps her legs around your waist, heels digging into your back, nails raking down your arms leaving faint red trails. “Deeper—please, fill me—breed me like you own me,” she gasps, words spilling out in a torrent. The heat of her, the vice grip, the way she tastes when you lean down to kiss her—salty sweat on her lips.

“Tell me what you want,” you growl, nipping her neck, the skin blooming red under your teeth.

“Cum inside me,” she whimpers, eyes locking on yours, desperate. “Breed me—make me yours—fill me until it drips out.” Her words dissolve into whimpers as you edge her again, slowing just enough to tease, pulling out to the tip before slamming back in.

That’s it. You thrust deep one last time, cumming hard, pulsing inside her as she clenches around you, milking every drop with rhythmic squeezes. She squirts again weakly, body shuddering in aftershocks, a soft whine escaping. “Yes… I feel it… so warm inside me.”

You collapse together, breathing heavy, sweat-slick skin sticking. But she’s insatiable tonight. “One more,” she whispers, hand already stroking you back to life, her touch electric. “I want to taste us together.”

You spend the night at a cheap roadside motel, the neon sign buzzing faintly outside like a heartbeat. In the room, she goes feral—against the wall first, her back pressed to the cool plaster as you lift her, legs wrapped around you tightly. You thrust up while she claws your shoulders, nails biting into muscle. “Harder—mark me, make it hurt so good,” she demands, head thrown back, exposing her neck for you to suck bruises into the soft skin.

You spin her around, bending her over the desk with curtains half-open, the parking lot lights casting golden shadows across her back. From behind, you grip her hips, slamming in deep—the wood creaking under your force. She braces on the mirror, watching herself get fucked—hair wild, lips parted in ecstasy, eyes half-lidded. “Look at me,” you say, pulling her hair to arch her back, the strands silky in your fist. “See how much you love it? How slutty you look taking me like this?”

She does, moaning louder, the sound echoing off the thin walls. “I love it—fuck, I look so wrecked… don’t stop, please!” Your hand snakes around to rub her clit, overstimulating with fast circles until she squirts onto the carpet, legs shaking, warm liquid puddling. “Can’t—too much—it’s everywhere!” But she pushes back for more, ass grinding against you.

On the bed, it’s a marathon: missionary with her nails raking your back, leaving stinging trails that burn deliciously; then her on top again, riding slow and sensual before speeding to frenzy, breasts bouncing, skin flushed rosy. You edge her twice—pulling out just as she’s about to cum, making her beg, tears pricking her eyes. “Please—need your cum—I’ll do anything, just fill me again!”

Finally, you give it, creampie deep as she screams your name, body convulsing in a full-body orgasm, squirting so hard it soaks the sheets through, the mattress damp and warm beneath you. “Yes—oh god, yes—it’s perfect!”

Dawn finds you back on the road, the sun painting the sky in pinks and golds, her head on your shoulder, hair tickling your neck. She’s quiet again, but content, fingers laced with yours, warm and steady.

“That was… a lot,” she admits softly, a blush creeping up her cheeks as she nuzzles closer, her breath warm on your skin.

You kiss her temple, tasting the salt of last night’s sweat. “You were incredible.”

She smiles, shy Yeji peeking through once more. “Next time… maybe longer trip? More stops? I want to feel like that again… free, wild.”

You grin, squeezing her hand. “Deal.”

The highway stretches ahead, endless possibilities unfurling like the road itself. And Yeji—your sweet, reserved girl who turns into a complete nympho the second the doors close—is already plotting the next adventure, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

[kpoplustzone]

Summer Break - Somi

OC X SOMI {27K WORDS} {Released Free}

Kofi - Link

Patreon - Link {Do not Use Apple Pay}

The summer sun beat down mercilessly on the quiet countryside village, turning the air thick and heavy. Inside the old wooden house of her grandparents, Somi sprawled across a low kitchen stool like she owned the place. The ceiling fan spun lazily overhead, doing almost nothing to cut through the sticky heat. Sweat beaded on her skin and refused to evaporate, leaving her glowing and slick from head to toe.

She wore almost nothing.

A tiny black sports bra clung desperately to her full, heavy breasts. The thin, stretchy fabric was soaked through in patches, turning semi-transparent where it stuck to her skin. The material strained and stretched across her chest, the neckline dipping so low that the tops of her areolas peeked out every time she shifted. Her nipples—hard from the contrast of the cold popsicle in her mouth and the sweltering room—poked visibly against the damp cloth, twin stiff peaks begging for attention. The bra was clearly designed for workouts, not for containing breasts this generous; every small movement made them jiggle and threaten to spill over the top.

Below that, she had on the tiniest pair of cotton shorts imaginable—pale gray, barely more than boy shorts, the legs ending high on her smooth, toned thighs. The waistband sat low on her hips, exposing the soft dip of her lower belly and the faint line where her tan faded into paler skin. The shorts rode up constantly, bunching between her thighs and outlining the plump shape of her pussy lips in an almost obscene way. A dark, damp spot had already formed at the crotch—not from sweat alone, but from the slow, lazy arousal that had been building all afternoon while she lounged around doing absolutely nothing.

In her right hand, she held a bright red cherry popsicle. It was melting fast in the heat. Sticky red juice ran down her fingers, dripped onto her wrist, and trailed in slow rivulets along her forearm. She didn’t care. She brought the popsicle to her full lips again and again, sucking slowly, deliberately, letting the cold treat slide deep into her mouth before pulling it out with a wet pop.

Read the story for free—Link {Click on Req access to get the Story}

[coldfanbou]

Cum and Get It

A shorter fic today, and we are focusing on breeding, as Yuna cannot control herself.

Length 1.6K

Yuna X Mreader

In recent months, there had been only one thought in Yuna’s mind, and that was being bred. Sex has always been something that Yuna loved. She loved having it, watching it, and being around it in general. So it should come as no surprise that she watched a lot of porn. 

Now, after an introduction by Ryujin, Yuna was obsessed with being bred. She watched a series of videos of a woman going from petite, toned, and fit to having a bigger body because she was bred. Something about it clicked with Yuna, and she wanted the same thing. She had watched the woman have sex and get a creampie over and over again. And now she wanted to do the same. She stared into the mirror in her room and imagined herself with larger mounds, filled with milk, and a big, swollen belly. The thought got Yuna wet. 

She thought about how she’d be able to get this goal of hers. She didn’t think about it too long; once your face popped up in her mind, it was decided. As her friend, you’d surely help her. She convinced herself of it. She called you up, saying she wanted to hang out. You agreed, thinking you’d have a fun time eating or playing games. 

You were surprised when you came into Yuna’s home, and she greeted you in the nude. Yuna made it clear what she wanted by pulling you into her home and pressing her lips against yours. “I need you to fill me up.” She whispered, breaking the kiss for a moment. You felt her hand on your crotch, you were getting hard, having Yuna’s bare body pressed against you was arousing to say the least. 

Your hands find Yuna’s waist, and you grip it tightly. She jumps up and wraps her legs around your waist. Your hands shift to Yuna’s ass to hold her steady. She drags her tongue along your neck, “Get that cock out,” she says, gently biting your earlobe. You weren’t going to pass up the chance of fucking Yuna, even if you weren’t sure what she was on about. 

You walk over to her living room couch, setting her down before unbuckling your belt. Yuna sits up instantly and begins to help you. “I can do this, you get your shirt off.”

You reach for your shirt, taking it off quickly, as Yuna quickly pulls your pants down just enough to get your cock out. She leans in, grabbing your shaft and wrapping her lips around the head. You groan, the sudden pleasure making your legs weak as she bobs her head, her tongue snaking around your cock. One of Yuna’s hands goes between her legs, brushing her clit as she sucks your cock. You feel her moans around your shaft, the pleasure increasing when she does. “You’re so good at this,” you grunt.

Yuna doesn’t respond in words; instead, she pushes herself to the base of your cock. You can feel yourself hitting the back of her throat. You were on edge, your cock throbbing against her tongue. Yuna’s eyes go wide, and she quickly pulls away, denying you an early orgasm.

She stares into your eyes and lies back on the couch, spreading her legs. Her hand spreads her lips apart for you, and she guides you into her warm cunt. “Ooh, fuck,” she moans as you slip inside her. You push deeper into Yuna, enjoying her warmth. She wraps her legs around your waist and pushes you in further. She feels the tip of your cock kissing her womb and moans with a smile. You plant your hands on either side of Yuna’s head and begin to thrust. Her warm walls hug your cock. It’s a struggle to pull out of Yuna at times with how tight she is. That just makes the experience more pleasurable for you. You put more strength into your thrusts, ramming your length against Yuna’s womb. 

The young woman wraps her arms around you, clawing at your back as you rail her. Considering you were already close to cumming from her blowjob, your quick thrusts led to your climax. You bury yourself inside Yuna only minutes after you had slid into her. Still, Yuna was happy; she felt your cum pouring into her. She had taken creampies before, but now that the goal was different, it felt so much better. Her body shook, she was nearly cumming as you pumped her full. Yuna marked your back with her nails, only stopping once the intense pleasure was over. You pull out of the young woman slowly, your cum seeping out of her cunt. Yuna brings her fingers to her slit, dragging them along and coating them in your semen. She looks at herself before bringing the salty liquid to her lips and tasting it—a small smile forms. Even though Yuna wasn’t qualified to decide what made for potent semen, she thought it was perfect, and she needed more. 

Yuna thought she would up the ante, though. She walked over to the floor-length windows that overlooked the city and bent over for you, your cum running down her leg. Needless to say, you were hard and ready for another round. You got behind Yuna and gripped her waist tightly as you pushed into her. Her plush ass pressed against your crotch. You groan before giving her a quick thrust, watching as her cheeks jiggled. You did it twice more, enjoying the way it shook before Yuna begged you to fuck her. You did as instructed and began to thrust into Yuna earnestly. As you drove your cock into her messy cunt Yuna slowly straightened out, and soon you had her pressed against the cold glass, her hard nipples dragging against it when you slammed yourself against her. The sensation made Yuna’s body tingle, and she craved more. Add to that, she could feel your cum escaping her body, and she was desperate to be filled with more of your baby batter.

“More!” Yuna cried out, her legs growing weak as you fucked her against the window. You raise Yuna’s leg and drive your cock deeper into the young woman. Her cries of pleasure grow louder, her walls clamp down on your cock when you're buried inside her. Yuna’s eyes were rolling into the back of her head; she could barely hold herself together as the pleasure got to her. “Put a baby in me. I want them so bad,” she said, slurring her words. Yuna could feel your cock ramming into her womb, and she couldn’t be happier with the feeling. You would be shooting your cum right into her womb. When Yuna felt your cock throbbing, she smiled with glee. 

“Yes! Fucking, cum inside me! Drown my womb in your baby batter.” She growls. You could now say, in all honesty, Yuna had lost her mind. She was an animal begging you to breed her. While she might be crazy, you also had no problem cumming inside such a beautiful woman. It was one of your many bad traits. You impale Yuna on your cock and shoot your cum right into her womb. The young woman lets out a long guttural moan as your cum fills her body, the warmth spreading across her body. She fogs the window with her heavy breaths. Her walls milk you rhythmically, clenching around your cock to milk you for every drop. “Give it all to me,” she moans, pressing her ass against you. 

Once your orgasm ends, you try to pull out, and Yuna shouts for you to stay still. “We’re not done yet. One time won’t be enough, and I don’t want to waste a drop. Take me to the bedroom.” You follow Yuna’s instructions and carry her to the bed, keeping yourself inside her warm cunt. She has you lie down, and as you do, she slowly moves around to face you. She bounces on your cock slowly, making sure each time she comes down on it, every inch is inside her.  She places her hands on your chest, supporting herself as she keeps moving. “I can feel it all sloshing around inside me,” she mumbles, slowly speeding up. “I want more, I want to be able to feel your baby batter fertilizing me.” Yuna soon gets into a rhythm, slamming her plump ass down on you. You grab the firm piece of flesh and help keep her rhythm steady. 

Yuna had her sole focus, being bred. She put herself in the position of the woman she had watched in videos–heavy, swollen breasts and a big, round belly. The ideas she imagined pushed Yuna toward her climax. Her walls clamped down on your cock again. Yuna squirms on top of you, her body shaking as she cums hard. You were nearing your climax, too, so you continued to thrust into her tight cunt. Yuna’s heavy breaths cut through her moans, and a large smile was plastered on her face. That smile grew as you buried yourself inside Yuna and came inside her again. As your cum was pumped inside Yuna, she rubbed her belly. “I’m going to have a baby,” she said in a tired voice. Yuna’s legs shook as she tried to bounce on your cock again. They gave out on her, and she fell forward, collapsing on top of you as her walls continue to milk you.

Yuna mumbles about your cum swimming around inside her, absolutely lost in her imagination. She drifts off to sleep, her imagination continuing to run wild. You follow soon after taking the break you are given. 

In the morning, you are back to being Yuna’s toy. You wake up with her riding you again. She was determined to be bred and wouldn’t stop until she was.

[guiltycouch]

Stuck With You

Male reader x Chaewon

Word count: 9k

You’ve been shelving books for about seven thousand years.

Or at least that’s how it feels, wedged between the holiday table and the front window while people keep coming in with snow on their shoulders like they’re bringing the storm in as a guest. The bell above the door jingles every time, high and bright and weirdly smug about it.

The bookshop is warm, heavy with smells that are all slightly too much at once: cinnamon oil from the diffuser near the door, paper that’s been turned and thumbed and loved, the wet-wool edge of everyone’s coats slowly trying to defrost. There are paper snowflakes taped to the glass. A tiny artificial tree leans a bit to the left in the display, ornaments shaped like miniature book covers weighing down one side.

You’re halfway through putting a stack of romances back in alphabetical order when the bell rings again and a gust of cold sneaks in under the door, curling around your ankles.

“Shoes,” Chaewon says from the front without looking up.

You glance at her over the edge of the display. “What?”

She’s behind the register in her navy apron, the knot at her back perfectly centered like she tied it in front of a mirror. Her hair is clipped back, black and shiny, not a strand out of place. There’s a clipboard beside the register with the sign-in sheet on it. A pen is attached with a piece of string, because of course it is.

Chaewon flicks her eyes to the entry mat, then back to your face. “You’re tracking slush. Wipe.”

You look down. There’s a faint gray trail from the door to where you’re standing. Your boots are damp around the edges. You drag them across the mat a couple of times, more out of stubbornness than effort. The fox printed on the mat looks disappointed in you.

“There,” you say.

Chaewon’s expression doesn’t change. “You forgot to clock in.”

You force your shoulders to stay loose as you head up to the counter. The clipboard is waiting. You grab the pen and the string tugs, like it’s on a leash.

“Does Ms. Lim think I’m going to steal a pen?” you ask.

Chaewon’s gaze dips briefly to the front pocket of your hoodie, then back up. “You would,” she says.

You don’t even have anything in that pocket except an old dining hall receipt and some mystery lint. Still, your face warms.

“I wouldn’t,” you say. “Some of us have morals.”

“You were twenty minutes late,” she answers, not bothering to look impressed. “Sign.”

You sign. Your hand is cold, and your name ends up crooked, like it’s trying to slide off the page. Chaewon watches the paper, not you. Her nails are short and neat. You hate that you notice.

She slides a folded apron toward you without looking. “Here.”

“Wow,” you say. “There’s the reason I don’t clock in.”

“Customers don’t need to see your hoodie,” she replies. “It has holes in it.”

You look down. It does have holes. Two near the cuff from a nervous habit, one at the hem that’s older than college.

“It’s called vintage,” you say.

“It’s called tragic,” she says.

You pull the apron over your head anyway and tie it behind your back. You don’t aim. The knot lands too far to the side.

Chaewon’s eyes flick down and stay there for a moment too long. Her jaw tightens almost imperceptibly.

“Fix that,” she says.

“It’s tied,” you say. “It’s doing its job.”

“It’s crooked,” she says. “And you’re in front of customers.”

“I didn’t realize my back was part of the customer service,” you mutter.

“It is when I have to look at it,” she says.

You feel your spine stiffen. “Newsflash, Chaewon: you don’t have to look at me at all.”

Her eyes rise to meet yours. They’re sharp, dark, annoyingly steady. “Trust me,” she says. “I know.”

Before you can say something mean enough to feel satisfied now and regret later, Ms. Lim pops up from the far end of the counter, Santa hat sliding sideways like it’s trying to escape.

“There you are,” she says, cheerful. “Good, both of you. It’s starting to come down out there. We’re going to get slammed for another hour and then I’m kicking everyone out.”

She pats Chaewon’s arm as if she expects her to hold the line against an invading army. “Chaewon, gift wrap the books. You—” She points at you. “Holiday table, then float. Smile like finals aren’t happening.”

“I don’t smile on principle,” you say.

“You smile at me,” Ms. Lim says with the sharp part of her tongue.

“That’s because you pay me,” you say under the breath.

She laughs and waves you toward the middle of the store. “Shoo. Make the shelves look pretty. If anything falls on a customer, I’m blaming you and I’ll cry.”

“That’s new…” Chaewon mutters.

“What was that?” Ms. Lim asks merrily.

Chaewon’s eyes flicker. “Nothing,” she says.

You head back to the big holiday table. From the front, the building looks like a normal small bookstore—cozy, slightly chaotic, full of too many things in not enough space. When you walk it with your brain turned on, you can see the structure underneath.

Children’s corner in back with a circular rug that never lies flat, always has one piece sticking up waiting to trip someone. The reading nook opposite it, with the sagging gray couch and the lamp that only works if you tap it twice.

Classics line the left wall with the locked glass cabinet embedded in the middle. The rare books are inside, spines aged and serious. The brass key that opens it hangs on a chain around Ms. Lim’s neck. Chaewon looks at that cabinet like it owes her money.

You look at it like a bunch of books you’ll never be able to afford.

The holiday table is a disaster in three dimensions. Someone has stacked thrillers on top of romances. A cookbook about pies sits on a pile of poetry. A display mug is one elbow away from suicide.

You start sorting just to make the chaos stop. Paperbacks in one stack, hardbacks in another. Romances to the right, everything else center and left. You pull a snowy-cover romcom out from under something with a skeleton on it and feel vaguely offended on the romcom’s behalf.

“Excuse me,” a woman says to your shoulder. “Hi. Sorry. Do you have something… romantic?” She winces on the last word like it tastes weird.

You straighten. “Romantic we can do,” you say. “Any no-go zones? Like, no heartbreak, no cheating, no—”

“Oh, no, she loves heartbreak,” the woman says quickly. “It’s for my niece, she’s in high school. But my sister will kill me if there’s anything… explicit.” She mimes a vague gesture that could mean sex or could mean drugs; you decide to assume sex. “So, like… kissing, feelings, snow. But not too much… you know.”

You do know.

You look at the table. “Okay,” you say. You pick up a soft YA-ish paperback with a cartoon couple in puffy coats. “This one’s more cute-angsty than spicy. Lots of longing, barely any trauma.”

The woman’s face brightens. “Longing is good.”

You grab another—“CUM2A” by Okay—read the back quickly. Too steamy. You put it down.

“Definitely this one,” you say, handing her the first book. “Safe for nieces, but she won’t be bored.”

She clutches the book in both hands like you’ve given her something fragile. “Thank you. You just saved Christmas.”

“Wow,” you say. “All in a day’s work.”

She laughs and heads toward the register.

You glance up and catch Chaewon watching.

She’s not looking at you head-on. She’s pretending to organize the impulse-buy bookmarks near the register, but her eyes track the woman, then the book in her hands, then you.

When she feels you looking back, her gaze slides away like it never stopped.

You go back to stacking.

The hour until closing moves in knots. You wrap a stack of books in gold paper that tears every time you try to fold a corner. You show three people where the essay collections are. You straighten the children’s rug and watch it go crooked again in under five minutes because a toddler decides to run in a circle on it.

At one point you pass by the register to grab more tape and Chaewon says, without looking up, “You put the wrong edition of Little Women on the display.”

You stop. “What?”

She slides a bag across the counter to a customer, murmurs “Happy holidays,” and only when they leave does she flick her eyes to yours.

“There are three editions in stock,” she says. “Ms. Lim wants the clothbound one with the red cover on the table. You put the cheap movie tie-in one. With the faces.” Her nose wrinkles like the idea offends her.

“People like covers with faces,” you say.

“People don’t know what they want,” she shoots back.

“I thought the point was to sell books,” you say. “Movie tie-in is familiar. Familiar equals safe. Safe equals—”

“Cowardly,” she interrupts.

You blink. “That’s not where I was going.”

“It’s the only place you’re going,” she says.

You stare at her. “You think I’m a coward.”

“You won’t put your own work up for open mic,” she says. “You keep reading half-finished first drafts in workshop and then saying ‘it’s nothing’ if anyone likes it. So, yes.”

You feel something hot crawl up the back of your neck. “At least I don’t slaughter people’s stories in the Q&A portion,” you say.

Chaewon’s jaw tightens. “I give useful notes. I’m not a sycophant.”

“You could try not making people feel like idiots,” you say.

“You could try not writing like you have a brick up your ass,” she answers.

A customer steps up to the register with a stack of true crime and coughs politely.

Chaewon turns away from you so cleanly it’s like someone flipped a switch. “Hi,” she says, voice smooth. “Did you find everything okay?”

Conversation over.

Your chest still feels like she knocked something out of place, though.

You escape back into the middle of the store, where it’s just you and paper.

Outside, the wind has been doing its own thing. You’ve noticed it in the corner of your eye, the way the snowflakes stopped looking delicate and started flying sideways. Now, when you glance at the front window, you see white smeared against the glass, streetlights smudged into halos.

Someone near the holiday cards lets out a nervous gasp when a gust thumps against the door.

Ms. Lim looks up from the bookmarks display, pulls her phone from her apron, and sucks in a breath.

“Okay, update,” she says loudly, tapping the screen. “Blizzard warning just got bumped. They’re closing the main road in twenty minutes.”

The air in the store shifts. People stand up straighter. A guy in a puffer coat looks at his watch as if trying to slow down time.

“We’re closing,” Ms. Lim says, already moving toward the door. “Everybody check out now.”

You and Chaewon move automatically. She speeds up her scanning; you take armfuls of books and carry them for the people who can’t hold everything. The bell rings too much. Coats brush against you. Papercuts sting at the base of your fingers.

Your phone vibrates in your pocket with the campus alert:

SEVERE WEATHER WARNING. AVOID TRAVEL. SEEK SHELTER.

You glance at it. You glance at the window. Snow claws at the glass now, white and dense, no longer pretty.

The last customer finally staggers out with two bags and a stray ribbon stuck to their sleeve.

The bell jingles, and then there’s silence.

Ms. Lim turns the lock, flips the sign to CLOSED, and exhales like she’s been holding her breath for an hour.

“Okay,” she says. “We survived the rush.”

“I mean, the roof is about to blow away,” you say.

Ms. Lim points a gloved finger at you. “Do not jinx my roof.”

Chaewon is already scanning the store, gaze moving over displays, windows, the rare books cabinet, like she’s taking note of liabilities.

“The front romance table’s a mess,” she says.

“It’s fine,” you say. “No one’s coming in now.”

“It’s crooked,” she says.

“It’s romance,” you say. “And what’s more romantic than a crooked table?”

Chaewon aims a look at you that could cut paper.

Ms. Lim shrugs. “I’m pulling the shutter down,” she says. “You two start closing the store. Candles are near the register. If the power goes out, don’t panic, we’re not haunted. The pipes just make… noises.”

“It’s okay, Ms. Lim. I’m not scared of the dark,” you say.

“I know,” Ms. Lim says. “You’re scared of commitment and job interviews. But I didn’t ask.”

She opens the door and the wind punches in, cold and wet and loud. Her Santa hat almost flies off; she catches it with one hand and laughs.

“Back in five if the alley door isn’t frozen shut,” she calls, and then she’s outside, pulling the heavy metal shutter down over the front windows.

Chaewon stands by the glass, watching. You end up next to her without deciding to, shoulder almost brushing hers, eyes tracking the same movement.

The shutter rattles as Ms. Lim hauls it down. Snow swirls in around her feet. Her coat whips.

The lights flicker once.

You glance up at the ceiling.

They flicker again.

“Don’t,” you say under your breath, as if the building can hear you.

The lights go out.

Everything snaps to black so fast your stomach drops. The humming of the heaters stops. The buzzing from the old fluorescent tube in the back disappears. Even the little mechanical whir of the receipt printer dies.

For half a heartbeat, it’s just the storm and breathing.

The emergency lights blink on. They’re low and yellow, barely illuminating the aisles. The store looks different in them, older somehow, shadows stretched long between shelves.

Outside, something slams into the shutter with a metallic boom.

You and Chaewon both flinch.

“Ms. Lim?” Chaewon calls, too loud in the sudden quiet.

The boom comes again. The shutter rattles. Then Ms. Lim’s voice filters in from behind the metal, muffled and thin.

“I’m okay!” she shouts. “The lock’s jammed from the outside! I’m going around to try the alley door—don’t open anything unless you’re sure it’s me! And don’t—”

A gust of wind shrieks around the corner, steals the end of her sentence.

“—freeze!” barely makes it through.

The sound of her boots fades.

Chaewon’s phone vibrates. She takes it out of her pocket, reads something, frowns, and clenches her jaw. As your eyes meet hers, she returns to that impassive, serious expression she always wears.

She puts the phone back in her pocket, but whatever she saw, it had already done its damage—her shoulders now square and the skin around her mouth tight.

“Candles,” she says, already walking for the counter.

You follow. Your legs feel a little floaty, like they forgot how to walk.

Behind the register, Chaewon yanks open the bottom drawer. There’s a jumble of things inside: rolls of receipt paper, three stubby white candles, a pack of matches, a black flashlight wrapped in silver duct tape.

She grabs the matches.

Her hand shakes.

Not a lot. Just a tremor that shivers down to the knuckles.

She sucks in a breath and tightens her grip. An attempt to bully her body into cooperating.

Before you think about it too hard, you reach out and cover her fingers with yours.

“I got it,” you say.

Her head snaps up.

Her eyes flash, startled and defensive. Your hand is warm over hers. You can feel the fine bones there, the way her tendons pull taut.

“I don’t need—” she starts.

You gently slide the box of matches out of her grip. “You have all your fingers,” you say. “Let’s keep it that way.”

You strike a match. The flare of orange is small but shocking. You light the first candle, then a second. The wax catches, flames steadying into two thin petals of light.

You set them on the counter. The glow spreads, softening the hard edges of everything.

Chaewon stares at the candles for a second in disbelief. Then she snatches the matchbox back and lights the third candle herself.

The flame… wobbles.

Something slams into the shutter again. The sound ripples through the metal, through the glass, through your chest.

You and Chaewon both look toward the front.

“She’ll be fine,” you say.

You’re not sure if you’re trying to convince her or yourself.

“Don’t say that,” Chaewon answers. “You can’t know for sure.”

You study her profile in the candlelight. She looks composed from far away. Up close, you can see the giveaway details—how her throat moves when she swallows, how her shoulders are a little too square.

The storm howls. The pipes in the back gurgle once, loudly.

Chaewon closes the drawer with more force than necessary. “Back door,” she says. “If she can’t get in from outside, we should at least know if it opens from in here.”

She scoops up one candle, grabs the duct-tape flashlight, and heads for the back hallway.

“Have you never watched a horror movie? Why would you try to open the back door?” you ask.

She doesn’t look back. “Someone has to.”

You follow, because apparently that someone is not going to be her by herself.

The hallway to the stockroom is narrower in the emergency light, walls yellowed, floor scuffed. The candle flame throws shadows up and down like moving fingers. The metal door to the alley sits at the end, painted the same beige as the walls, long handle vertical, bolt at the top.

Chaewon sets the candle on a nearby crate, puts both hands on the bar, and pulls.

Nothing.

She puts her weight into it. The handle doesn’t move, the bolt doesn’t budge. The door rattles, frame vibrating.

“Come on,” she says through her teeth. “Move.”

She braces one foot against the bottom edge and hauls backward. The muscles in her arms tense under her sweater. Her hair shifts against the clip.

The handle gives a millimeter with a metallic creak and then catches.

“That’s not good,” you say.

“I know,” she says. Her voice has a frayed edge now.

“Chaewon—”

“I said I know,” she snaps.

She tries again. The door stays stubborn.

You reach past her and jiggle the handle, just to feel it yourself. You feel ice in the mechanism, solid and unbothered by her pulls.

“Pretty sure it’s frozen,” you say.

“I can see that,” she says.

“You’re going to dislocate your shoulder,” you say.

“I’m fine.”

She sucks in a breath and goes for it again. The bar barely twitches. The sound it makes is worse than the earlier rattle, like a warning.

“Okay,” you say, and catch her wrist.

Your hand closes around her. Her pulse is fast under your fingers. Her skin is cold enough that you feel the contrast.

She goes still.

“Let go,” she says quietly.

“If I let go, you’re just going to pull at the door again,” you say. “And then we’ll have a stuck door and a dislocated shoulder.”

“That’s my decision to make,” she says.

“Ms. Lim will murder me if I let you hurt yourself in her store,” you say. “On the list of ways to lose a job, that’s probably top three.”

Chaewon stares at you, eyes dark and furious and bright all at once.

“Let go,” she says again.

You do.

Not because she tells you to, but because you feel the way your grip tightens without meaning to, and suddenly you’re very aware of where your hand is and how small her wrist feels in it.

She pulls away like your touch burned. Her shoulders go back up, armor snapping into place.

“Fine,” she says. “Then we wait.”

You both stand there listening to the storm slam itself against the alley side of the building. Somewhere above you a piece of metal groans. The heaters are still dead. You can feel the air cooling with every minute.

“Great,” you say. “Perfect night.”

“We have an emergency kit,” she says briskly, turning toward the stockroom. “Ms. Lim is paranoid.”

You follow her through the door.

Chaewon walks straight to a cabinet and opens the bottom doors like she’s done this before. Inside: a red first-aid kit, a camping stove, a small kettle, two instant ramen cups, a big bag of pretzels, three chocolate bars, and a box of tea bags.

You blink. “We keep a whole apocalypse kit back here?”

“Emergency box,” she says. “And clearly a useful one.” She pulls the stove out, then hands you one of the ramen cups without looking. “Did you eat already?”

“Totally,” you say automatically.

Your stomach chooses that second to make a noise that sounds like a dying animal.

Chaewon’s head turns slowly.

“Oh my god,” she says. “A granola bar is not dinner.”

You make a face. “You don’t know my life.”

Her eyebrows go up. “You literally told everyone last week that your oven is ‘for storage.’”

“That was a joke,” you say.

“It sure doesn’t look like it,” she says.

“It was… half a joke,” you admit.

Chaewon just stares at you for a second, candlelight catching in her eyes. Something in her expression shifts, like something clicks into place that she doesn’t like.

She fills the kettle from a big water jug, sets it on the camping stove, and lights the burner with the matches. The little blue flame catches with a soft whoosh.

You watch her hands. They’re steadier with a task. Her shoulders drop a fraction.

“You’re really prepared for armageddon,” you say.

“We have the kit thanks to Ms. Lim. But yes, I’m always prepared,” she answers.

You sit down on an unopened box and peel back the lid on the ramen cup. Your fingers feel clumsy.

“You’re always like this,” you say.

She doesn’t look up. “Like what?”

“Like… I don’t know,” you say. “Always with a plan. Always on high alert.” You wave vaguely at the organized chaos.

“That’s called being responsible,” she says.

“That’s called being uptight,” you say.

The corner of her mouth twitches, just a little.

Steam starts to gather at the spout of the kettle. The stockroom grows warmer by a few degrees. The shelves throw softer shadows now, the candlelight and blue flame working together.

Chaewon pours the water into your ramen, then into her own cup. She chooses tea instead of a second ramen.

You eat sitting on the box, blowing on noodles that are too hot, salty broth soaking the cardboard smell. It tastes better you thought it would.

Chaewon leans against a stack of shipping boxes, ankles crossed, hands around her mug. Her cheeks are pinker now, probably from the heat.

You take a breath, steadying yourself before you speak.

“Why do you hate me?” you ask.

Chaewon chokes on her tea.

“I don’t,” she says quickly.

You raise your eyebrows.

She glares at you. “I don’t hate you,” she says. “I hate the way you… are.”

“Gee thanks,” you say. “That’s a lot better.”

“You’re just so…” She waves her hand in a circle, searching for the right word. “Careless.”

“I’ll have you know, I shelve the books diligently,” you say.

“Only when someone’s watching,” she shoots back.

“You’re watching all the time,” you say.

Chaewon’s lips press into a line. She looks down into her mug. “Not… all the time.”

“Enough to hear about my oven,” you say.

“You weren’t exactly quiet,” she mutters.

You slurp ramen to buy yourself a second.

When you talk again, your voice comes out quieter. “You killed me in the workshop last month.”

She blinks. “What?”

You poke at the noodles. “The story I turned in. About the kid working at the movie theater. You tore it apart.”

“It needed work,” she says, but her tone is less sharp, like she’s not as sure as she wants to sound.

“You said the third person felt like a dodge,” you remind her. “That it sounded like I couldn’t say ‘I’ and mean it.”

“That was… accurate,” she says. Then she inhales, like she’s about to launch into the full critique. “You write like you’re apologizing for taking up space. It’s frustrating.”

“It’s my story,” you say.

“And that makes it even more depressing,” she says.

You look up at her. “You could have just said ‘I didn’t like it,’ you know.”

“I did like it,” she says quietly.

You stare.

She swallows. “That’s the problem,” she says. “I liked it, and you were still… holding back. And it made me irritated. With you. Not the story.”

You sit there with the cheap ramen smell and the cheap emergency candle and the expensive feeling of having your insides laid out in the stockroom.

“So you shredded me,” you say.

“That’s how I show respect,” she says.

“That’s insane,” you say.

Her mouth twitches. “Do you want me to lie?”

“Then why do you always look like you’d rather eat a hardback than talk to me?” you ask.

Chaewon watches the candle flame for a full three seconds before answering.

“You’re not easy to talk to. You’re… popular,” she says.

You actually laugh at that, a rough sound that surprises both of you. “No, I’m not.”

“You are,” she insists. “In class. People talk to you.”

“They talk to me because they want my help with their work,” you say.

“They laugh at your jokes,” she says.

“I wonder why,” you say, snorting.

Her fingers tighten around the mug. “Because they’re funny,” she says. “Because you’re funny. They like you, even when you don’t try.”

You stare at her.

“You think I don’t try,” you say.

“I think,” she says carefully, “you’re at least pretending not to.”

You set the ramen cup down on the floor before your hands can crush it.

“You have no idea how much I’m trying,” you say.

She looks up. Candlelight catches the worry in her eyes before she can smooth it out.

“Then say it,” she says. “Instead of joking.”

You inhale too fast. The air down here feels heavier.

“My dad called yesterday,” you say. “During your shift. I was in the back.”

Her posture changes, just a little. “Okay,” she says. It’s almost gentle.

“He wanted to know if I could send home money this month,” you say. “From my ‘little campus job.’” You add air quotes with one hand. “Financial aid covers tuition, not… family problems. So I said I’d try. Which means I need all my shifts and maybe more, and I need Ms. Lim not to think I’m useless, and I need you not to think I’m useless either, because you’re…” You trail off, realizing how much you’ve said.

“I don’t think you’re useless,” she says.

You give a short, disbelieving laugh. “You call me lazy twice a week.”

“Lazy doesn’t mean useless,” she says, frowning. “Lazy means… misdirected potential.”

You blink. “That is the worst compliment I’ve ever received.”

“It’s still a compliment,” she counters.

Silence hangs between you for a moment. The kettle has stopped hissing. The storm hums outside like white noise with teeth.

You watch her fingers around the mug. They’re slender, knuckles showing faintly. There’s a nick on her thumb, a thin line of healed skin.

“Then…” you started. “Do you hate yourself?”

Chaewon stiffens. “What?”

You hear the word come out of your mouth again in your head and wince. “I mean,” you say, scrambling, “you talk about people holding back and being pathetic and all that. I was just wondering if you’re…” You circle your hand in the air. “Equally mean to yourself.”

“That’s not what you asked,” she says.

“I panicked,” you say. “Consider it a rough draft.”

She exhales through her nose, a tiny, annoyed sound. “I don’t hate myself,” she says finally.

You arch an eyebrow.

“I don’t.” Her fingers tighten around the mug. “I hate that I have to… stay ahead of everything all the time. I hate that if I stop, everything feels like it’ll collapse.”

“You mean the bookstore?” you ask.

“The bookstore, my GPA, my mother’s blood pressure… take your pick,” she says.

You watch the way her mouth twists on “mother.” It’s quick, but it’s there.

“Was that who that notification was?” you ask.

Chaewon blinks. “What notification?”

“Earlier,” you say. “You checked your phone. You went all—” You imitate her tight shoulders. “—like you’d been plunged into a cold shower.”

She hesitates, then pulls her phone out of her apron pocket. The screen lights her face from below, makes the dark circles under her eyes look darker.

She holds it where you can’t see the screen. Her thumb moves. Her jaw clenches once.

“‘Don’t be stupid about the storm. This job is not worth getting hurt. You have more important things to think about than this part-time nonsense.’” She says it flat, but you can hear the invisible italics.

You feel your own jaw tighten in sympathy. “Wow,” you say. “Merry Christmas to you.”

“She worries,” Chaewon says quickly, like she has to defend it. “She just… thinks this is temporary.”

“This,” you repeat. “You mean the job?”

“She doesn’t just mean the job,” she says dryly. “She means everything. Workshops, open mics, having fun.” Her eyes flick to your apron, then her own. “This is… beneath what she thinks I can do.”

“What do you think?” you ask.

She stares at the steam curling out of her mug. “Some days I agree with her,” she says. “But some days this is the only place that makes sense.”

The kettle ticks as it cools. The storm drums on the far wall, insistent.

You look down at your empty cup. “We’re a mess,” you say.

“We’re college students trapped in a blizzard,” she says. “Mess is implied.”

You watch her for a moment. The tiny emergency candle has burned down a little, wax spilling over the side. The air smells like cheap vanilla and ramen.

Your phone buzzes on the crate next to you, vibrating against the wood.

You both jolt.

You snatch it up. There’s a new text in the group chat Ms. Lim insists on having. The message explains how the roads are closed and how she will come back tomorrow.

You show the screen to Chaewon.

She reads, exhales slowly, and leans her head back against the boxes. For a second, a real, honest second, she lets everything drop. Her shoulders, her jaw, her face.

“We’re stuck here all night,” she says.

“Sleepover,” you say weakly.

She gives you a look. “We are not eight.”

“Speak for yourself,” you say. “I fully plan on building a pillow fort.”

“The pillows are decorative,” she says.

“So we’ll die pretty,” you say.

She almost smiles, then catches herself. “We should get the heater,” she says instead. “And the blankets.”

You stand, joints popping after sitting on the box for too long. “Yes, captain.”

She rolls her eyes but doesn’t deny it.

You help her carry the space heater from Ms. Lim’s office—a squat, beige thing that looks like it’s seen at least three decades of undergrad winters. Chaewon plugs it into the outlet behind the counter and flips the switch. It hums hopefully, then warms with a faint metallic smell. Somehow there was still some electricity.

You dig out the blankets from under the counter. One is a navy fleece branded with the bookstore logo. The other is a red-and-green plaid that looks like it’s been through a few family living rooms.

You shake them out. Dust floats in the candlelight.

“You take the fleece,” you say. “I’ll take the… holiday picnic.”

“Don’t be stupid,” she says. “We’ll share both.”

“You hate sharing,” you remind her.

“I do,” she says. “But this is an emergency.”

You snort and let her take over blanket logistics. She does it like she does everything else—efficient, precise. The navy fleece goes over the couch in the reading nook. The plaid gets folded on the arm of the armchair nearby. She takes one of the candles and the flashlight over, setting the candle on the low table, the flashlight beside it.

The store looks smaller in the half-light. The kids’ corner rug, the crooked tree, the tables—everything’s part of the same dim room now, not separate sections.

Your breath fogs faintly in front of your lips if you exhale hard enough.

You wrap your scarf tighter around your neck. It’s a dark knit you snagged on clearance last year. You forget you’re still wearing it until the wool scratches your chin.

Chaewon glances over, eyes catching on the scarf. You can see her calculating.

Without warning, she steps up close—closer than she’s been all evening outside the narrow back hallway. Close enough that you can see the tiny mole near her left ear.

“What are you—” you start, but she’s already reaching.

She loops her fingers under the scarf and tugs.

“Hey—”

“Relax,” she says. “You’re terrible at knots.”

You stand there stupidly while she unwraps it, the sudden rush of cold at your throat making you swallow. She smells like cheap tea, candle smoke, and whatever perfume she always wears that you’ve never been able to name.

She shakes the scarf out once and then, instead of putting it on you, throws it back around both your necks, looping it so one end falls on your chest, the other on hers.

You blink down at the wool where it stretches between you.

“This seems counterproductive,” you say. “Now we’re both half cold.”

“We’re sharing body heat,” she says, like it’s obvious. “Basic physics.”

Her face is inches from yours now, the scarf setting a fixed distance that suddenly feels very small. You can’t back up without dragging her with you. You’re not sure you’d want to.

You’re both quiet for a beat.

“You’re weird,” you say.

“You’re wearing a hoodie with holes in it,” she counters.

You want to say something sharp back, but your brain has decided to focus all its energy into not looking at her mouth.

She clears her throat. “We should stay in here,” she says, nodding at the reading nook. “Closer to the heater.”

“And the books,” you say.

“And the books,” she concedes.

You sink onto the couch. The cushion dips under your weight, springs protesting softly. Chaewon hesitates for half a second, then sits too, the scarf pulling her down next to you.

You could have sat with space between you. The couch is big enough for that. She doesn’t. She sits close enough that your thighs brush, just barely, denim on denim.

The fleece blanket is right there, so you grab one end and toss it over both your laps. It settles warm and heavy. Your legs stop shivering.

You can feel her through three layers of fabric and it still feels like too much.

For a while, you just sit there.

The heater hums. The storm beats its fists against the walls. The emergency lights cast their sickly yellow, but the little candle on the table adds soft orange where it can. The store smells like wax and dust and paper and the kind of quiet you only get when the whole world is stuck.

“You know,” you say eventually, staring at the opposite shelf, “this is the part in a romcom where they’d find the old record player and dance in the dark.”

“We don’t own a record player,” Chaewon says.

“Metaphorically,” you say.

“We don’t own a metaphorical record player either,” she says. “We own a Bluetooth speaker that dies every two hours.”

“Wow,” you say. “Ruining all my quips.”

“You’re welcome,” she says.

You shift under the blanket, trying to discreetly move your leg so your knee doesn’t bump hers every time you breathe. You fail.

Her phone buzzes again. She glances down.

Your eyes catch the screen before she can tilt it away.

MOM: Send me your CV again. I want to show it to a friend. You can’t waste your time there forever. The storm is not an excuse. Think about me.

Chaewon flips the phone face-down so fast she almost hits her own mug.

You pretend you didn’t see, but your hands clench under the blanket.

“I hate her,” you say before you can stop yourself.

Chaewon looks over sharply.

“She doesn’t even ask if you’re okay,” you say. “What kind of mother is that?”

“She’s like that with everything,” Chaewon says stiffly. “It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine,” you say.

Her mouth sets. “If I wanted therapy, I’d pay someone.”

“Yeah, except we’re two overcaffeinated lit majors in a blackout,” you say. “This is the free trial.”

She snorts despite herself. “You think you’re funny.”

“I know I’m funny,” you say. “Less sure about functional.”

She hums at that, low in her throat.

The scarf scratches your jaw every time you talk. Every time she shifts, it tugs at you.

“Why do you keep doing that?” you ask.

“Doing what?”

“Looking at me like I’m committing a crime every time I breathe,” you say.

Her lips straighten. “I told you,” she says. “You’re… frustrating.”

“Because I won’t read at open mic,” you say.

“Because you won’t do anything at open mic,” she says. “You hide behind… half-finished drafts and self-effacing jokes.”

“You hide behind being mean,” you counter.

“I’m not mean,” she says, offended.

“You told Jenny her protagonist had ‘the emotional range of a potato,’” you add.

“She thanked me for that comment,” Chaewon says. “She even added a scene because of it.”

You throw your head back against the couch, staring up at the dim ceiling. “You know there are ways to help others that don’t involve psychological warfare, right?”

“Not in my family,” she mutters.

You let the words hang for a beat.

“Okay,” you say quietly. “Then consider this… outside your family.”

She glances over.

“I don’t think you’re… temporary,” you say, stumbling a little over the word. “Not here. Not at the bookstore. Not… for me.” You swallow. “I work harder when you’re around. Like, at everything. Because you’ll notice if I half-ass it. And I don’t want you to think I’m—”

“A coward?” she supplies.

“Yeah,” you say. “That.”

She stares at you for a moment, really looks, like she’s trying to see through whatever you’re hiding behind.

Her eyes soften at the edges. “I don’t actually think you’re a coward. And I… I don’t want to be mean. I just didn’t know how to… stop,” she says. “So I just kept doing it. It’s easier than…” Her gaze drops to your mouth for a fraction of a second, then darts away. “Other things.”

Your skin goes hot under your hoodie. “Like… what?” you ask, your voice a little rough.

She takes a slow breath. Sets her mug down carefully on the table. Her hand stays there, fingers splayed near the candle, like she needs something to anchor her.

“Like admitting I like you,” she says.

The words felt like stepping into the ocean. Cold at first, then all warmth.

You blink. Your heart does a weird, useless leap. Your brain offers nothing.

“That’s not… funny,” you say, because nothing else came to mind.

“I’m not joking,” she says, and she’s looking you straight in the eyes now. No flinch. No smirk. Just the raw, awful honesty she usually reserves for other people’s work.

You swallow. “You have a terrible way of showing it.”

“I know,” she says. “Believe me, I know.”

You stare at her for a moment, feeling like the floor’s moved an inch to the left and you’re trying to adjust.

“Today. You yelled at me about the book covers,” you say.

She huffs a small almost-laugh. “That was foreplay,” she says.

Your brain short-circuits. “Okay, wow,” you say. “We’re just—leaping there.”

Her cheeks flare red. “I didn’t mean— I just—” She groans, burying her face briefly in her hands. “I knew this would sound better in my head.”

“It actually sounded perfect,” you say, before you can stop yourself.

She peeks at you through her fingers. “You’re making fun of me.”

“I’m really not,” you say.

You shift, and the scarf pulls at both your necks, drawing you closer. You can feel the heat of her breath now.

“Say you don’t like me back,” she says quietly. “And we can forget this. Blame it on the cold.”

You let out a shaky breath that fogs in the thin cold between you.

“I would,” you say. “But I’m not that good a liar.”

Something like relief and terror flashes across her face at once.

“You’re not going to make me say it again,” she mutters.

“I think you’ve said plenty,” you say. “It’s my turn.”

Her eyes snap back to yours.

“I like you,” you say. The words feel weird and big in your mouth, like you’re twelve again and confessing in some hallway. “Obviously. I wouldn’t spend this much time arguing about shelving with you if I didn’t.”

Her lips tremble at the corner, like she’s fighting a smile and a panic attack at the same time.

“Just… so we’re clear,” she says, because of course she wants clarity even now. “You don’t mean ‘like’ as in ‘we’re friends.’”

“Do friends argue about book covers?” you ask.

“I think so,” she says, puzzled.

You huff out a breath that’s closer to a laugh. “Then no,” you say. “Not like that.”

Silence stretches out between you, but it’s different now. Thicker. Charged.

You can hear your own heartbeat in your ears. The storm outside, the heater, the little candle—all of it fades to a dull hum.

“Okay,” she says faintly.

“Okay,” you echo.

The scarf between you feels suddenly less like an accident and more like a decision.

“Chaewon,” you say, and her name feels different now too.

“Yeah,” she says. Her voice is a little breathless.

“Can I…?” You lift your hand halfway, toward her cheek, then stop yourself. Old habits, always leaving the out.

She watches your hand, then your face.

“Don’t be a coward,” she says.

You let yourself touch her, then. Your fingers skim along her jaw, cool skin under your thumb. She sucks in a breath, eyes fluttering for a second.

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” you say, because you need to.

She huffs out a shaky laugh. “You’re seriously giving yourself an out?” she asks.

“Wouldn’t you?” you ask.

She leans in that last inch, closing the space, the wool of the scarf scratching your chin as it tightens.

“Not when I’m sure,” she says.

Her mouth finds yours.

It’s soft at first, almost clumsy. Her lips are colder than you expected, warmed quickly by the press of yours. For a second, you forget how to breathe entirely.

Then your body catches up.

You kiss her back.

Her hand comes up to your chest, fingers curling in the fabric of your hoodie like she needs something to hold onto. You can feel her heart racing under the layers between you. Yours is doing something equally stupid, hammering against your ribs like it wants to make sure she hears it.

When she pulls back after a few seconds, her eyes are wide, pupils blown, breath coming a little too fast.

“Okay,” she says again, dazed now.

“That was—” you start.

“Don’t make a joke,” she warns, still breathless.

“—very efficient use of shared body heat,” you finish, because you can’t help yourself.

She smacks your chest lightly with the back of her hand. “Dumbass.”

“You like me,” you remind her.

“Unfortunately,” she mutters.

Her hand is still on your chest. You can feel the press of her palm through fabric.

You look at her, really look. At the slightly crooked clip in her hair. At the flush on her cheeks that has nothing to do with the heater. At the way her eyes keep darting back to your mouth, like she’s memorizing it.

“Is this okay?” you ask, nodding to where your fingers are still against her jaw.

She nods once, small and sharp.

You let your thumb move, stroking down along the line of her cheek to the corner of her mouth. Her lips part on a small inhale.

“Good,” you murmur, and lean in again.

This time, the kiss clicks.

It’s deeper, surer, all the sharp edges between you melting into something hot and final. She tilts her head, mouth opening under yours, and you follow her lead like it’s the easiest thing you’ve done. Your hand slides from her jaw to the back of her neck, fingers dipping into the hair at her nape. She shivers.

Her fingers bunch harder in your hoodie, pulling you closer. The scarf tightens, dragging you together until your noses bump. You both laugh into each other’s mouths, brief and breathless, and then she’s kissing you again, like she’s making up for all the time she spent pretending she couldn’t stand you.

The blanket slips, sliding off one of your knees. The cold air nips at your shin. You don’t care.

Her hand leaves your chest, hesitates in the space between you for a second, then lands at your hip, fingers curling into the denim. Your pulse jumps so hard you can feel it in your ears.

You break the kiss long enough to press your forehead to hers. Your breaths mix in the narrow gap.

“We should—” you start.

“Not stop,” she says quickly, and then flushes. “Unless you want to. Do you—?” The confidence she had a second ago frays at the edges.

This time it’s her giving herself the out. You could tease her. You don’t.

“No,” you say, chest tight. “I don’t want to stop.”

Something in her shoulders unclenches so visibly you almost see it.

“Okay,” she whispers.

Chaewon smiles, eyes scanning yours, just to see if anything changes. It does. Her fingers move—slow, deliberate—into your pants, over your pelvis, toward your cock. She stops at the base of your shaft, giving it a couple tight squeezes like the way you harden at her touch turns her on.

Your pulse snaps awake like it had somewhere to be.

She tilts her head, smiles, and gives you the hungriest look a woman can give. She licks her lips. Hungry. Anticipatory.

It’s obvious she is having fun playing this game, a game that feels like hell for you. Your cock grows harder and harder, straining against the tight fabric of your pants, begging to be let out. Your hips jerk forward as your mouth strains.

She notices you wincing and leans in, lowering her face until it hovers an inch above your jeans. Her breath fogs into the denim.

“I’ll take them off.”

Not a question.

With slow, deliberate tugs, she slides your pants down until you’re exposed. Her head is dangerously close to your cock. As you spring free from under the pants, your cock slaps Chaewon over the nose.

“Ow…” she grunts, but wraps her small hands around your hard cock, smiling.

Fuck. Cold.

“Chae—”

“Shh,” she whispers, fingers tightening on your cock. “I’ll warm you up.”

And then she kisses you. Not gently. Not hesitantly. Like she is hungry and you are the only thing on the menu.

Her mouth claims yours, fierce and all-consuming, her fingers tangling into your head before you can think straight. You kiss her back, your hands grip her hips, drawing her into your lap, trying not to sink into the water too fast. But you are already drowning.

She pulls back just enough to break the kiss, lips brushing yours as she gasps. “God… that should’ve happened ages ago, don’t you think?”

But you can barely think, let alone speak.

“Your mouth tastes pretty good,” she whispers, rolling her hips over yours. An electric jolt surges through both your heads. “I don’t think I’ll be able to go a day without it now.”

“You won’t have to.”

She bites her lip, only just. Almost like she doesn’t want you to see it. “Well, well. Aren’t I a lucky girl?”

Then her mouth finds your neck—soft at first, then teeth. A promise. She giggles and hums into your skin as her hand trails back to your cock, stroking from base to tip with deliberate care. She knows exactly how much pressure to apply to make your toes curl.

You pull her tighter, lips at her jaw, tasting that smile she wears ever since the confession. Her nails dig deep into your shoulder. Her hips roll again, a sound you don’t recognize escaping your mouth.

Her teeth bare deeper into your neck, sucking and licking along the hollow just below your ear.

“Hey,” she whispers into your ear, hand pumping your cock like she has all the time in the world, “Want me to suck your dick?”

As soon as the word leave her mouth, a flush creeps up her neck and settles into her cheeks.

But she doesn’t backpedal. She just holds your gaze, lips parted slightly, hand still wrapped around your cock like it’s hers to offer something to.

Your body answers before your mouth does. Cock twitching in her grip, hips tilting upward like they’re desperate for her to mean it. Her fingers squeeze reflexively, and she feels it. Sees it. That twitch. That involuntary need.

That’s all the confirmation she needs.

She lets out a soft breath—half nerves, half relief—and then starts to move. Not fast. Not showy. Just a quiet, careful shift down between your legs. She kneels like she’s sliding into something sacred, her hands never leaving your skin.

Her eyes stay on you, watching every micro-expression flicker across your face as she leans in closer, lowering her head until you feel her breath again; warm, shallow, hovering just above the head of your cock.

You’re shaking.

Not visibly, probably, but underneath. In your breath. In the way your stomach tightens, in the way your hand curls into the cushion beside you like it’s the only thing keeping you grounded.

She watches that too.

Then—still watching—she presses her lips to you. Just the tip.

Soft. Warm. Closed-mouth. A kiss.

You groan, quiet, like the sound snuck out before you could decide if it was safe to let it out.

Her lashes flutter.

Another kiss, lower this time. Then she parts her lips, and her tongue flicks out—one slow, purposeful lick along the underside of your shaft. Her fingers tighten at the base, holding you still like she’s tasting you on her terms.

You choke on a breath. Your hips jump just a little, and she hums in response, the sound vibrating into your skin like a promise.

She’s enjoying this.

Not just the effect she has on you, but this. The feel of you. The taste. The power of it.

Her lips part wider, and then her mouth starts to take you in—inch by inch, slow and wet and unbearably controlled. Her tongue cradles you underneath while her lips slide down, fitting tight and perfect around your cock like she wants to feel every reaction drag out of you one movement at a time.

You drop your head back against the couch, jaw clenching, trying not to move too much, trying not to fuck up the rhythm she’s building—because it’s insane, how good she is at this. Not porn-star flashy. Not trying to impress. Just methodical. Measured. Maddening.

Her hand strokes the rest of your shaft in sync with her mouth, slow and twisting, and the whole thing is so hot and so focused that it makes your vision go blurry at the edges.

When she pulls back, it’s not to stop.

It’s just to breathe. To look up at you, spit-slick and flushed.

Her voice is husky. “You okay?”

You let out a breath that might be a laugh or a cry. “No,” you say. “Keep going.”

She leans in again, and this time she takes more. Her jaw loosens. Her throat opens. Your cock slides deeper into her mouth and your whole body tenses like she’s touching a live wire. Her nails dig lightly into your thigh as she finds a rhythm—slow, tight, relentless—and holy fuck, she doesn’t even blink when your hand tangles in her hair, not pulling, just holding on.

She likes it.

You can tell by the little moan she lets slip when you groan her name.

“Chaewon…”

Her pace stays controlled, but you can feel it building now. The tension. The heat. The sheer weight of the moment pressing down on both of you like you’re past the point of pretending this is anything casual. This is happening, and she’s savoring it.

She pulls off with a slick gasp, stroking you lazily while she catches her breath. Her lips are swollen, flushed, parted like she wants to say something but isn’t sure if she should.

You look down at her—ruined—and she smiles like she’s not even close to finished.

“I want you inside me,” she says quietly, thumb dragging up the length of your cock in one slow glide.

Then she leans in again, tongue flicking over the head like punctuation.

“But not until I’ve had my fill.”

She takes you back into her mouth.

Not rushing. Not trying to finish you off. Just settling into it. Lips warm and firm, tongue slow and intentional, like she’s learning the exact shape of you and committing it to memory. Her hand keeps a steady rhythm at your base, grip confident, thumb brushing the sensitive skin there every time she comes back up.

You’re already on edge. Every nerve feels tuned too high.

She hums softly again, pleased with the way your thighs tense, the way your breath breaks. The sound vibrates through you and you swear you feel it in your chest. Your fingers tighten in her hair—not pulling, never pulling—but she still tilts her head slightly, accommodating you, letting you sink a little deeper into the heat of her mouth.

“Fuck,” you whisper, helpless. “Chae…”

She pulls back just enough to breathe, lips dragging slowly along your length as she does. A thin string of saliva stretches, then breaks. Her eyes meet yours immediately.

“You’re shaking,” she murmurs, almost fond. “You want me to slow down… or make it worse?”

Your answer is a wrecked sound that barely qualifies as a word.

She smiles and does both.

Her pace slows, but the pressure increases. Mouth tighter, tongue more deliberate, her hand twisting just enough to make you gasp. She takes her time, edging you without mercy, letting you hover there until there is no more air in your lungs.

You feel it building. Too fast.

“Chaewon,” you warn, breath hitching. “I’m—”

She pulls off immediately, palm firm at your base, stopping you right there. You whine—actually whine—and she looks a little stunned by it, like she didn’t expect that sound to come out of you.

Her cheeks color again, deeper this time.

“Not yet,” she says softly. “I told you. I want you inside me.”

She rises smoothly to her feet, hands still on you, still stroking just enough to keep you aching. She kisses you again—slow, open-mouthed, tasting herself on your lips like she’s claiming something. You groan into her mouth, hands sliding up her back, pulling her closer, desperate for friction.

She shifts, straddling you again, and you feel it immediately; the heat between her thighs, the way she rolls her hips once, experimentally, grinding down against you. You both inhale sharply.

“Oh,” she breathes, forehead dropping to yours. “This could be… dangerous.”

You laugh weakly. “You’re the one doing it.”

“I know. And I’m not going to stop,” she says, and kisses you again, harder this time.

Her hands move with purpose now, tugging at your hoodie, then her own sweater. Fabric piles up around your wrists, your shoulders, the couch. Skin meets skin. She’s warm everywhere. Perfect. She gasps when your hands slide under her shirt, when your thumbs brush under her bra, when you finally cup her breasts like you’ve been imagining all night.

“Is this okay?” you ask again, because you always will.

“Yes,” she breathes immediately. “God, yes.”

She kisses you like she’s done waiting. Like all that tension—the arguing, the watching, the almosts—has finally snapped. Her hips rock again, more insistent, and you can feel how wet she is through the layers between you.

You groan into her neck. “If you keep doing that, I’m not going to last.”

“Fuck—” she says, breathless. “Then we’ll fix that.”

She reaches between you, fumbling just a little this time—nerves finally catching up. She lines you up, pauses for half a second with her eyes squeezed shut like she’s bracing herself.

You grip her hips. “Chaewon—”

She exhales and sinks down onto you.

Slow. Careful. Full.

Both of you freeze the second you’re fully together, the sensation stealing the air from your lungs. She gasps, hands clutching your shoulders, nails biting in as she adjusts, as the stretch gives way to something hot and overwhelming.

“Oh,” she breathes again, wrecked now. “Oh my god.”

You swallow hard, trying not to move until she nods, until she’s ready. Her forehead rests against yours, breaths shallow, eyes fluttering closed.

Then she rolls her hips.

You groan—low, helpless—as she starts to move, slow and deep, like she’s savoring every inch of you. Her rhythm is unhurried, controlled, and it’s somehow even more devastating than before. You hold her like you’re afraid she’ll disappear, thumbs digging into her waist as she rides you, breath hitching with every movement.

Chaewon starts slow, but it doesn’t last.

Not because she loses control. She never does. But because once she adjusts to the feel of you, once the sharp edge of stretch softens into something deeper, something hotter, she moves with intention.

Not rhythm for rhythm’s sake. Not showy. Strategic.

She rides you like she’s trying to memorize how you fit together, like she’s spent months imagining this and now she’s reaping her reward—grinding her hips down in slow, devastating rolls that make your vision white out at the edges. Her palms press into your shoulders for leverage, her thighs tense around yours. Her breath stutters every time your cock hits deep, and still—still—she doesn’t break rhythm.

You’re the one unraveling.

“Jesus,” you gasp, hands digging into her waist. “You’re…”

“Say it,” she pants, lips hovering a breath above yours. Her voice is wrecked, low, demanding.

You try to form a thought. Can’t.

“Fucking perfect,” you groan.

Her laugh is broken and delighted, swallowed by a kiss; sloppy now, open-mouthed and teeth-clicking. Your tongues tangle. She swallows the sound you make when she sinks down hard enough to make your cock throb against her walls.

The wet slick of her, the tight grip, the warmth—you’re dying. You’ve never wanted anything this badly. Never felt someone want you back with this much heat.

She buries her face in your neck, teeth grazing the skin beneath your ear again. “You feel so fucking good,” she whispers. “So big. So perfect. Like you were made to be inside me.”

You groan. Loud, desperate, hips jerking up into her before you can stop yourself.

Chaewon moans.

You feel it in your chest. In your cock. In your spine.

She clenches around you, just once, involuntary. Her rhythm breaks for a second.

You realize—she’s close too.

You grip her tighter, planting your feet, thrusting up to meet her with sharp, hungry precision now. She gasps, rocks back, eyes wide and stunned. The change hits her hard.

“Yes—” she chokes out. “Right there, fuck, there—”

You give her everything. Harder. Deeper. Your cock driving up into her just the way she wants it, your fingers gripping her hips to control the rhythm as her legs begin to tremble around you.

“Chae,” you gasp, breath ragged. “You’re gonna—”

“I know,” she moans, hands sliding to your chest, bracing herself. Her pace turns erratic. She’s chasing it now, so close she can taste it. “Don’t stop—don’t you fucking stop—”

“I’m not,” you grit out, thrusting up again, hitting the spot that makes her collapse forward into your shoulder with a strangled, broken cry.

That’s the moment she falls apart.

Her body tenses—tight, tighter—then shudders in your arms as her orgasm rips through her. She’s gasping, hips jerking, moaning something you don’t understand against your skin like a confession she can’t hold back anymore.

She clenches around you, pulsing wet heat dragging you to the edge right with her.

You hold her through it, hips still rolling, cock still buried deep until you can’t take it anymore.

“Chaewon—” you warn.

She pulls back, meets your eyes, and nods. Wild-eyed, sweaty, flushed, and beautiful.

“Come,” she says. “I want to feel you.”

That’s it.

You snap.

Your whole body locks up—hands gripping her waist, cock pulsing deep inside her as you bury yourself one last time and come hard. The heat of it floods both of you. You groan through gritted teeth, breath gone, every nerve lit up, every thought reduced to her and the way she feels and the way she takes it, riding you through it until you’re gasping and empty and wrecked.

You don’t even realize how hard you’re holding her until she falls on your chest.

Breathing hard. Shaking a little. Still twitching every time your hips shift.

You both stay there, tangled in each other, wrapped in shared heat and sweat and whatever the hell just passed between you.

You kiss her shoulder. She hums. Her fingers curl around your arms like she’s afraid you’ll float away if she lets go.

“You okay?” you whisper, throat rough.

She lifts her head slowly. Hair a mess. Eyes glassy. She nods.

“Yeah,” she breathes. “Just… can’t feel my legs.”

You snort. “I’ll take that as a good sign.”

Her lips twitch. She smacks your chest lightly, but doesn’t move away. “You’re lucky I like you.”

“Didn’t sound like luck a minute ago,” you murmur.

She groans into your neck, then laughs.

You let the silence settle. Outside, the storm howls, distant again. Somewhere behind the counter, the emergency candle’s burned low.

You’re warm now.

Warm, full, utterly spent, and holding Chaewon in your lap like you never want to be anywhere else.

“I still hate how you shelve books,” she says sleepily.

“Yeah?” you murmur. “I hate how you compliment others like you’re insulting them.”

She lifts her head, smirks.

You kiss her again. Just once. Gentle.

She leans into it.

“Guess I’m stuck with you from now.”

[knightyoomyoui]

"The Best Taming" [+18] | Knight's Smutrathon Special - DAY 23

ft. ITZY's Shin Ryujin (x Male Reader)

WORD COUNT: 2285

REQUESTED BY: @fiercelycuriousphenomenon NOTE: We're down to LAST 7 SMUT FICS before I depart from writing!

DONATE HERE: https://ko-fi.com/knightyoomyoui

DESCRIPTION: Ryujin found out what she gets after screwing around on her husband's supposed-to-be going smooth and calm of a morning. === START ===

You don’t know what has gotten to her, but she’s been acting really strange.

She woke up with a nice mood though. She was talking and trading smiles with you during breakfast to brighten your mornings. That’s all before you excused myself that you will go to the grocery store to refill your supply stock.

As you arrived home, you were supposed to help each other when your wife Ryujin looked at you in confusion.

“Where’s the tissues?”

“Hmm?” You tried to search it again around the plastic bags. “Wait, I didn’t grabbed it on the shelf?” You asked to yourself, trying to remember if you actually placed it on your cart earlier.

“Babe, I think I… didn’t included it.” You asked cautiously.

“And why’s that?” She looked at you in disappointment. “Just say you forgot it, don’t twist it.”

“Okay, fine I forgot it. Sorry. I can go back if you want?”

“No, don’t tire yourself, just help me instead with these first.” Ryujin sighed heavily. “Out of all the items I expect you to buy and you neglected one of the important.”

You remained speechless as guilt ensues you inside. Ryujin is into hygiene, she always uses tissues everytime whether her hands gets dirty or when she spotted something that needs cleaning with just a quick wipe. You don’t want to blame her for being like this but what happens after made you somewhat reconsider it.

“You rarely forget an item when you do grocery.” Ryujin continued speaking while she’s busy arranging the food supplies. “You should do a checklist now next time, your memory’s not that good anymore.”

“Ryujin, it’s just one. I don’t need that. I can still make mistake sometimes, but I’m fine without it.”

“Very quick of you to decline my suggestion, what makes you find it a horrible idea?” Ryujin glared at you. This is starting to get ridiculous, you thought.

“Ryu, why are you making all this a big deal?! I literally just said I’m willing to get it back from you, and now when I offered you declined but you still insist on making me feel I owe you.” You confronted her.

“I’m not making this a big deal, I’m just appalled why did you quickly rejected my idea when it’s for the good. I was just helping you, for God’s sake.”

“Well I appreciate the concern, but I can learn next time. And what you mean my memory’s not that good anymore, I’m not even that old yet?”

“Wasn’t it the problem?” Ryujin shrugged.

You chuckled in disbelief. “You know what? If you’re having a bad start for this day, don’t get me involved in it. You’re sounding childish.” You distanced yourself away from Ryujin, moving into the living room to watch some TV instead.

“What? So you’re sulking now because I’m beginning to piss you off?” Ryujin raised her voice from behind. You just ignored her as you switch the channels while you mumble your complains to your wife acting strange today.

You didn’t realize Ryujin stepped behind the couch and watch you below looking relaxed on the couch. “You’re starting to change, aren’t you? Look at you, couldn’t admit the fact that you’re losing what you got. Now you’re too soft for me to make you mad like this.” She pushed you in the shoulder which made you threw your head at her.

“What the fuck was that for, Ryujin? Seriously, what do you want?!”

“That’s cute, for the first time I feel like I’m more superior than you.” She laughed. “Look the awful you have in your face. Maybe I can keep being like this between us now.”

She starts to cup your cheek and play with your hair. “The one who’s in control, that I can be demanding, exacting… and untouchable.” The way her hands roam all over the side of your face to your neck as she forms it into a grip to slightly choke you as she tightens it with how she sharpened her tone. She smirked as she watches your expression being dumbfounded. “Maybe it’ll suit me better.” That’s before she bump her fist on your forehead, tug your hair harshly to pull your ear closer for her to whisper. “Unless you want to do something about it. I’ll wait.”

She bit your earlobe before walking away from you, you saw the way her walk changes as she swayed those hips. Confident, daring… and seductive. All those yet in an insulting and infuriating manner.

“Better if this is who I am?” You mumbled puzzledly. “Pathetic, than her?” The anger grows in you. Throwing the remote away, you abruptly get up from the couch and chased Ryujin who had returned from her task.

When she saw you approaching with a dark attitude, she felt conflicted. “Seems like I made you mad. Are you here to prove you don’t accept that you have become stale around me?”

“And I’m going to make you regret it.” You flipped her and carried her on your shoulder, leading yourselves to the bedroom as you kicked the door open. You threw Ryujin on the mattress like a sack of rice. “How dare you talk shit about me like that? You’re way more above me now?”

You straddled Ryujin and gave her multiple slaps. “Huh? You think I lost it? You want me to do something about it?” Ryujin felt herself getting kissed feverishly on the lips. She moved instinctively along the way their tongue danced with each other. “Then I’m going to give you a reminder that you’ve wanted. I’m going to take every words you just said. I’ll fuck your brains out until every delusions you feed into that goddamn head of yours goes blank.”

Ryujin grinned at your threatening words. “Actions speak louder than words, darling.” You grunted irritatedly, removing her shirt immediately to expose her top half. You duck and began gnawing and kissing every areas of her soft skin greedily, causing Ryujin to moan aloud.

“Mmmm yes yes, I love it when you worship my body. Oh yes, more.” Ryujin said as she shut her eyes to feel your mouth doing its gods work on her sensitive areas, nibbling on her neck, licking on her armpits, and teasing her cleavage. You gave her some hickeys around the chest that’ll definitely pop out later or tomorrow.

“I just marked you, now tell me that when you’re able to remove it. But you can’t, just like how it should.” You grabbed her chin as you unclipped her bra with your other hand. “I will always have the power, you hear me? Who the fuck are you to tell me how I’m getting weak?”

“Then if I’m the weaker one, it means I know it more how it means to be like that, especially when I see one.” She laughed harder at you.

You gritted your teeth, blood boiling at this woman’s teasing. Grabbing a handful of her perky supple tits, you kneaded them and gave them a bit of scratching as you claw into them, making Ryujin’s smile disrupted with a hint of pain. Pinching her nipples and twist it, you enjoyed playing with her that makes her looked so troubled.

After a minute of abusing her breasts like that, you sucked both her tits like you own them yourself, alternating on her bed as you bite, roll, and slurp it by your mouth. Ryujin remained laid there and guiding your head pressed against her body.

Finished at her chest, you licked and kissed her down through her torso and into the annoying cloth she got there on the bottom. You hurriedly swept away her shorts to reveal her panties already soaking. “Look at you now, already wet when I’m just touching you so far. Now you have the guts to tell me I’m horrid.” You stretched the middle part of her underwear, making it thin like a string and then used it to rub it through her folds, making her moan.

The fluid dripping on Ryujin’s cunt becomes more as you proceed to play with her pussy lips like that. You removed her panties after, and quickly sipped all of her pre-cum. Ryujin’s breathing goes intense as she felt your mouth working on her vagina, stimulating her.

You played with her clit as you sway your tongue across every spot you can reach in her pussy. “Ngghh oh God, keep doing that YN, do what that mouth can do for me, baby.” She said as she lifted her hips to buckle herself and rub it on your face. You were now clutching on her thighs to push yourself closer, burying your face onto her core securely.

Satisfied on giving her foreplay, you went through your box of toys that you bought with her during your pre-engagement where both of you started to explore the wonders of sex. You take out a handcuff and a dildo out of it. Ryujin saw the things you have in your hand, anticipation grew onto her.

“Get up from there, bitch. You rested way long enough.” You pulled her up and placed her hands on her back. “I hope you saved some breath because you’re gonna need it. I control whatever you do when we’re at bed, got it?”

“Y-yes.” You slapped her again.

“Again. It’s lacking something.”

“S-sorry, d-daddy. I- I understand.”

“Good girl. Now sit up and give your ass to me.” She bended and presented her ass to you. Removing your shorts to unleash your cock, you grabbed the dildo after pouring some lube in it and start inserting it on her tight hole.

Once half of it was now submerged into her rear, you commanded her what to do after. “Straddle me.” You laid on the bed with her and she spread her legs, hovering her pussy at your prepared cock. She was about to slowly sank herself when you rushedly slammed her down on your lap, making her scream in shock. “I-I wasn’t ready yet!”

You choke her check. “Shut the fuck up. You think what you did to me, you expect me to treat you with care. In this room, when we do this, it’s inexistent, especially after pushing my buttons. That’s why all you have to do is follow what I say, bounce yourself in my cock and that dildo up your ass, while I decide how much I want to shut you up and think better next time what you do to me.”

You raised your hips and led the motion to nail her without introductory pace, Ryujin was there in ragged moans and screams as you pummel her up and down into your cock while the dildo stuck on her ass contributes to the double penetration as it contacts through the mattress as she gets slammed down.

You did more things on your wife that effectively made her look more pitiful, regretful, and simply horrible than what she made you feel a while ago. Taking out your temper on her, you turned her as your submissive whore, a plaything to receive every cum on her body as a means of apologizing.

“Are you awake now from dreaming too much? Not yet? Fine, we’ll keep doing this then until I bring you back from reality.that you’re nothing but my slutty slave of a wife.”

Ryujin was cuffed on the bed, squirming and screaming as she rode the dildo underneath her while multiple vibrators were plugged on her cunt. You were cackling menacingly, swatting the belt on her ass along with some degrading insults you throw at her to enjoy making your wife suffer in overstimulating procedure.

“Fucking take it, there you go, shove that cock down on that throat and gobble it up. Say something shit about me now, Ryu!”

She was laid on the bed, putting her into a reverse 69. You were fucking her face imagining its her pussy that can take how much impact and speed you put into your thrust, but still with a bit of care to avoid causing any damage on her jaw or mouth.

“Do you still feel in charge after being tamed like this? Tell me, you brat! Who’s under control here! Who’s your daddy!”

“YOU! O-OH NGHHH MMH OH F–FUCK! HARDER DADDY! GET ROUGH ON ME, I WANT IT ALL!”

Lastly, you placed her in a position that completely wrecked her on purpose. Her flexibility and endurance got tested when you screwed her pussy while her legs and arms are tucked behind her neck while you hook them in place with your biceps. That’s her final squirt and her last injection of cum from you by how intense and rough that was.

“I-I’m sorry, hon.” She muttered in exhaustion after you two finished having a hardcore sex. You kissed her on the forehead after. “I know you didn’t mean to. Did I hurt you?" "My body feels sore but I can take it." You nodded in response to her.

“I was just cleaning earlier in our room then I find them, it’s been a while since we did it so I pretended to make you mad. I was afraid at first you won’t get the idea and you’ll just scorch out the house instead.”

“You idiot, you should’ve asked.” You laid there beside her and cuddled. “But you got me at the part on how you glanced at me while you move these babymaking hips of yours.”

She heard that one specific word and became hopeful, her face went emotionally soft as she looked at you with gleaming eyes. “I hope they serve their purpose someday.”

You almost didn’t get the idea until she subtly placed your hand above her tummy as she slept. Now you joined her, smiling for the same thing about the future. === END ===

[kpoplustzone]

Father In Law - Tzuyu

13 k Words [Free Release enjoy]

Kofi - Link. PATREON - LINK [No apple pay

"Hey babe," I said out of breath as I walked into the kitchen. My throat was dry, and I was dying for a drink. "Tzuyu, What are you up to?"

"Erm, not much." Minjoon, my boyfriend, answered.

As I walked past, his eyes glanced at my naked body and my perky, firm tits bouncing with every step. As I opened the fridge I bent over and knew he was getting a good look at my bare pussy and asshole.

I gulped down water from the jug in his fridge before putting it back and closing it.

"God, I needed that," I gasped and turned to look at him, but Minjoon wouldn't look at me. "Fill that up, will you? Oh, and order us a pizza. We should be done in like an hour or two."

"Y-yeah, okay." He stuttered.

I gave him a quick kiss on the cheek before pushing my frizzy, black hair back behind my ears. My body had a thin layer of sweat as I left my boyfriend in the kitchen and returned upstairs.

"Ready for round 3?" I asked as I opened his dad's bedroom.

Kim Shik, Minjoon's dad was lying on the bed, his body was sweaty as well as he smiled at me.

"Definitely," He answered. "Did you see Minjoon?"

I jumped onto the bed and straddled his big, muscular body before reaching down to grab his big, thick cock and line it up with my cum filled pussy.

"Yeah, he's just chilling." I moaned as I started to slide down his cock. Fuck, I'll never forget how good his cock felt sliding into me.

"Good, you two can hang out after I'm done breeding you for the day." Kim Shik grunted as I took his entire cock in my young, tight pussy.

"Fuuuck, yes Daddy!!" I moaned back.

I rode Kim Shik like a bitch in heat, banging the walls and screaming out in pure pleasure. It was mostly real moans, but I did add in some volume to make sure Minjoon could hear us.

--

You're probably wondering how a popular Idol that was loved by many ended up cuckolding her boyfriend with his own dad... Well, it was definitely an eye-opening experience for me.

The Beginning

Minjoon and I had been dating for a while, and when we both turned 18, we took each other's virginity.

He was a great boyfriend. He was kind, caring and very loving. He would open doors for me, pull out chairs and paid for most meals. Well, his dad paid for meals as he was Minjoon's supply of money.

Before this all began his dad, Kim Shik, was nothing but polite to me. I loved being around his house because I was treated like a queen by Minjoon and very respectfully by his dad.

Now, I was innocent... to everyone else but Minjoon. And even he just got a glimpse of how kinky I secretly was.

Before we had sex, I made myself cum nearly every day. Now, I wasn't a porn star, but I loved recording myself playing with my pussy. I just felt really sexy when I'd watch back on me fingering myself and cumming.

I had a thin frame with perky, soft tits that were bigger than someone with my frame should have. I had long black hair and a plump, firm bum from hours on end of training and dancing.

Minjoon was an innocent, nice guy. So I knew my kinky side shocked him, but that didn't stop me.

Whenever either of us were away, I would send him nudes of myself, knowing it would be driving him crazy. I also loved the idea of him wanking and cumming just from looking at me.

After a few months I knew he had a saved folder with hundreds of nude pictures of me. Knowing that he was looking at them turned me on so much!

Which is how this all began.

I didn't know it at the time, but one day Kim Shik broke his phone at work, and when he got home, he asked Minjoon to use his and text his boss that he wouldn't be reachable.

"Yeah, sure." Minjoon replied obediently and handed it to his dad without thinking.

Kim Shik took the phone up to his room to speak to his boss. It wasn't a problem as Kim Shik was planning on getting a new phone the next day, but he would have the same number as it was just a phone that he needed and not a SIM card.

But when Kim Shik ended the call, he accidentally clicked on the button that showed other apps that were running. Minjoon hadn't realised it, but he still had the folder with all my pictures open.

Curiosity got the better of Kim Shik, and he clicked onto it. His heart beat harder in his chest when he realised what it was. His son's innocent, hot girlfriend had sent many, many nudes!!

The first one Kim Shik clicked on was one of me on my knees with them spread apart. I was in front of a full-length mirror with my left hand squeezing one of my tits and my tongue sticking out. Not exactly how he expected to see his son's nice girlfriend.

Kim Shik's big, thick cock grew in his work trousers as he looked at me. He never expected to see the tzuyu lusty and sexy in the phone, completely different from the innocent Idol on the stage. Seeing me like that brought back his dormant dominant side, a side that had died along with his wife. Back when she was alive, Kim Shik and she had a vibrant sex life. She was submissive, and they were both kinky. At times, she was more of a sex toy than a wife, but they both loved it. I never thought I would take her place.

Kim Shik flicked through the next few photos.

There was me bent over with one hand spreading my ass cheeks so he could see my tight, smooth pussy and my puckering asshole.

Next was one of me laid back with my legs spread, giving the perfect view of my wet pussy.

There were some selfies of me lying down with my tits out and winking at the camera. Then some of just my legs spread and one with two fingers inside of me.

The more Kim Shik looked at, the more his caveman, dominant instincts came out. His cock was throbbing as he stared at me.

"Dad?" Minjoon shouted. "Are you nearly done with my phone?"

Kim Shik thought quickly, and he emailed the entire folder to himself and then deleted the email, so Minjoon would have no idea that it happened. He had to wait for his cock to go down before handing the phone back to Minjoon.

At that time Kim Shik just planned to use his son's girlfriend as wanking material. He didn't think anything would actually happen... but he was wrong.

Growing Temptations

Unknown to me at the time, Kim Shik had been cumming over my photos every night for nearly a month. He had thousands of photos to get through and hadn't even viewed them all yet.

In my own innocence, I didn't even notice the change in his attitude towards me at first.

Then he got more obvious.

One day I was sat on the sofa with Minjoon. It was a hot day, and I was wearing shorts and a tight vest when I noticed Kim Shik's eyes on my smooth, toned legs.

I was looking right at him, but he was too distracted by my legs. In my head I thought, take a picture, it'll last longer. Oh, but Kim Shik had plenty pictures with a lot worse.

"Babe, can you get me a drink please?" I asked Minjoon.

"Of course." He said and kissed my cheek before leaving me alone with his dad.

Kim Shik finally met my eyes, and he looked sheepish at first, as if I had just caught him wanking. But then I flashed him a smile, and he relaxed.

"So, Tzuyu," Kim Shik spoke, "Any plans for the comeback, I heard your team is coming back. "Not really," I answered. "I just want to relax in the sun and work on my tan."

Kim Shik's eyes lit up when I said that, although I didn't know why.

"You know we have a big, inflatable pool?" He asked. "You're always welcome to come here to catch the sun."

"Really?" I asked with delight. "That would be amazing!!"

I thought he was just being nice, not that he wanted me around in a bikini. Oh, to be so innocent again.

"Oh, definitely." Kim Shik said, and his eyes went back to my legs.

That's when I first felt it... my pussy tingled as this older, handsome men gazed at me.

I always knew that Kim Shik was attractive for his age. He was tall, muscular, and had this confidence about him. He was the complete opposite of Minjoon, and although I had never met his mum, I knew he took after her more than his dad.

"Here you go hun." Minjoon said when he returned.

I tensed up, as if I was doing something wrong by just talking to his dad.

"Thank you." I replied, and as he kissed my cheek, my eyes were on Kim Shik.

--

These strange moments became more and more frequent. Kim Shik would give me these looks, and I would catch him staring at my body. I quickly stopped finding it uncomfortable and instead found it arousing.

I would even put myself in situations and positions to give him better views of me. In my mind I was just teasing an older man, and nothing would come of it.

Kim Shik was sat in the kitchen when I walked in, and I told him I was getting a plate, knowing it was in the bottom cupboard. I was wearing black leggings, but as I bent over to go into the cupboard, I knew that they became more see through, and he would be able to see my thong.

When I turned around, his eyes were still lingering on me, and my pussy throbbed.

He found me hot, and I knew it. Fuck, this was wild!

I started to get more and more flirtatious with Kim Shik. Whenever Minjoon was out of the room, I would sit closer to him. I would wear more revealing clothing.

One day, Kim Shik was sat on an armchair, and I moved to sit on the arm. I was wearing a short blue skirt that rode up my thighs when I sat down, and I rested a hand onto his firm shoulder.

"How come you've never dated anyone?" I asked.

His eyes were on my legs, and he made no effort to move them.

"Never found the right girl, I guess," He told me. "Not many girls want to date a man my age."

"Oh please," I said and nudged him. "Any girl would be lucky to be with a man as hot as you..."

When I said it, he looked up to me, and I got lost in his black eyes, and I felt... nervous.

"How are things with Minjoon?" He whispered. I found out later it was so his son wouldn't hear us.

"Good," I answered, and he looked disheartened, so I continued, "Except I wish he was more forceful. You know, acted like more of a man."

This lit up Kim Shik's eyes.

"That's true. Sometimes I think he's as submissive as his mother was," He told me and looked at my thighs again. "He definitely doesn't get that from me."

My pussy was on fire!!

"Is that so?" I asked.

I watched as his eyes slowly moved up my legs, lingering on my chest and then looking at my face.

"When it comes to women," He whispered as a hand gently landed on my thigh, "I am very, very dominant."

The fire behind his eyes was making me desperate. I was ready to pounce on him, even with Minjoon in the other room. If I knew that he had been wanking over my nudes for weeks then I would've, but at the time I thought he might have just been being a little inappropriate.

"Well, erm," I stuttered and tried to control myself, "Maybe you can give Minjoon some tips."

We both heard Minjoon walking back towards the room, and my instant reaction was to move, but Kim Shik tightened his grip on my thigh long enough to make me realise he was risking getting caught.

When he did let go and I stood up, I immediately missed his touch.

That was the first night I made myself cum at the thought of my boyfriend's dad.

After that Kim Shik's touches on my body happened more often. A little touch of my arm here, a small squeeze of my leg there. Nothing too much, but enough to make me fall more and more under his spell.

All of this was without Minjoon noticing anything, and if he did, he never said.

In the sunshine

Kim Shik had spent a day getting their inflatable pool up. It was huge!! Taking up nearly all of their garden, he also bought a few deck chairs to be placed around it.

I was around there the day after it was up.

"I'm going to have a BBQ tomorrow," Kim Shik said while Minjoon and I were on the sofa, "If you wanted to come?"

I looked at Minjoon, who smiled at me, and then I looked back at Kim Shik.

"I'd love to!" I answered.

After a little while I went into the kitchen to get a drink, I was alone for a minute when I felt a dominant presence with me. When I turned, I saw Kim Shik stood on the other side of the kitchen.

"It's supposed to be a very hot one tomorrow," He told me and slowly walked closer, "So, dress accordingly."

As he walked over, I found myself backing into the kitchen counter, and my ass pressed against it until he was stood inches from my body.

"I... I can do that." I whispered and felt my breathing turn heavy.

He kept staring down at me. His body towered over mine, and I felt... weak. This was the first time I thought he was actually going to do something. God, I wish he did.

As he leaned down, I thought he was about to kiss me, but his head went past mine and his lips moved close to my ear.

"I think a bikini would be the best thing for you to wear." He whispered.

I let out a loud gasp as he moved back and looked into my eyes. I bit my thick, bottom lip and nodded at him.

When he walked out my thong was drenched!! So, I grabbed Minjoon and dragged him upstairs. We didn't even close his door as I laid down and pulled him on top of me.

Minjoon pulled out his five inch cock and grabbed a condom. As I spread my legs around him, Minjoon gently pushed his dick inside of me.

"Oooh god," I moaned, "Faster."

Like always, Minjoon was making love to me rather than fucking me. It wasn't bad, but I wanted to be fucked... hard!!

I even wrapped my legs around him to try and urge him to go deeper and harder, but he didn't catch on.

"Wait, roll over. I'll go on top." I told him.

At least on top I could control the pace.

As I straddled my boyfriend and took hold of his condom covered cock, I lined it up with my drenched pussy and lifted my head.

My entire body froze when I saw Kim Shik stood at the gap in the door, staring at me with a straight face. I was close to shouting and stopping... when he nodded at me.

This was a lot more intense than thinking about Minjoon wanking over my photos. This was actually being watched while having sex... by my boyfriend's father.

My eyes stayed locked on Kim Shik, not thinking that all Minjoon had to do was look up to see him as I started to slide down my boyfriend's cock.

"Ooooh god!" I moaned as took Minjoon balls deep inside of me.

"Tzuyu..." Minjoon gasped.

"Shh!" I panted and shoved a hand over his mouth.

My eyes were locked on Kim Shik's as I grinded myself on his son's cock. My pussy was fucking drenched and leaking onto Minjoon's dick as I moved faster and faster.

"Oh fuck... fuck... fucking hell." I moaned.

Minjoon may not fuck me like a man, but at least he had a good sized cock that I could ride.

Kim Shik nodded and smiled at me, and knowing he was happy made me even more excited.

"Oh god! Fuck me!! Oooh, fuck yes!" I moaned.

He mouthed "show me your tits". I grabbed at my top and tried to yank it down, but it got stuck. I kept pulling it and pulling it, but whatever it was stuck on would not let me get my tits out! Fuck, I wanted him to see my tits!! Since I didn't know that he had already seen them, it suddenly became an obsession that I wanted Kim Shik to see me naked!

"It's okay." Kim Shik mouthed at me, and I stopped trying to flash him.

Instead, I planted both hands onto Minjoon's chest, and I started to bounce on his cock. My skin slapped against his as I rode him harder and harder.

"Oh god! Yes! Ooh fuck yes! Fuck me!" I moaned.

"Tzuyuuuu!!" Minjoon grunted, and I knew he was cumming, once again way before I was even close.

Kim Shik actually had to stifle a laugh when he realised it. I stared at Kim Shik, annoyed that my boyfriend disappointed me once again.

"Oh my god, that was amazing." Minjoon panted.

I looked down at him in anger, and then I looked up and saw that Kim Shik was gone.

"Did you cum?" Minjoon asked.

"Erm, yeah." I lied and climbed off of him.

--

I was getting ready to head over to Minjoon's house for a day of sunbathing. Since having Kim Shik watch me having sex with his son, I felt obsessed with him.

At first I put on a full face of make up, then I straightened my long black hair and finally I put on my skimpiest, pink bikini. The bottoms were more of a thong that disappeared between my ass cheeks.

When I looked at myself in the mirror, I couldn't help but think how hot I looked. Fuck it. I took a photo on my phone and pulled up Kim Shik's contact.

My heart was pounding as I sent it to him with the question

Tzuyu: Is this thong okay?

He replied back in an instant.

Kim Shik: Perfect. See you soon.

My legs turned to jelly. I couldn't believe what was happening. I was practically having an affair with my boyfriend's dad! At the time I thought that was bad enough, never mind where it led to.

I threw a frilly summer dress over my bikini and drove over to Minjoon's house. He met me at the door with a kiss and led me to the garden.

As I stepped outside, I had to hide my excitement when I saw Kim Shik. He was wearing blue swimming shorts and nothing else. It was the first time I saw him topless, and I was amazed at his body! I couldn't believe he was Minjoon's dad!

Kim Shik's body was extremely toned, with bulging muscles. He truly was a man! I never thought about it before, but maybe my dad running out on me and my mum when I was young gave me daddy issues? That didn't matter though because I was drenched just looking at him.

"Tzuyu!" Kim Shik called out when he saw me, "Hope you're ready for some sun and a lot of food!"

He strode over and pulled me in for a hug, and I almost melted! My perky tits squished against his firm chest, and I let this giant man grip me hard. God... I wish Minjoon would grab me like that.

"Yeah, thank you." I replied when he let me go.

When I turned around, Minjoon was down to his swimming shorts. He looked completely different to his dad. Minjoon was skinny, pale and hairless, which was something I never really cared about before his dad.

Kim Shik went over to the BBQ, and Minjoon walked up to me, and I took this as my cue to remove my dress. I threw it off, and when I looked up, Minjoon's eyes were wide open.

"Erm, Tzuyu," He whispered and leaned in close, "is that not a little revealing?"

I looked down at my flat stomach, my tits that were being pushed up by the bikini, and also the very little material that covered my pussy.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

Minjoon looked at his dad then back at me.

"It's just..." He stuttered, and I gave him a doe eyes, a confused look. "Nothing, it's fine."

I smiled, but God, Minjoon didn't have a dominant bone in his body. As I walked over to one of the sun loungers, I flicked my head back and saw Kim Shik watching me, specifically my shapely, firm bum. I felt a twitch between my legs before I laid down.

I put on my sunglasses so Minjoon couldn't see me watching his dad, who was constantly looking over at me.

When he was watching, I would stretch my arms into the air and arch my back, as if putting on a show for him. I would hear the occasional disapproving sigh from Minjoon and a few dirty looks, but he never said anything.

After half an hour of teasing Kim Shik with my body, he came over with a hotdog.

"Hungry?" He asked and held it out to me.

"Starving," I told him and took it. Our fingers met, and I felt electricity course through my body. "And I do love a sausage."

Kim Shik smirked as I took it.

He had covered it in mayonnaise, which was a surprise at first, until I took a bite and a dollop fell off and landed right in the middle of my chest. I looked down then back up at him.

"Woops." I said in an innocent, girly tone.

With Kim Shik watching, I used a finger to scoop up the white liquid, and it spread around my chest as I brought the finger to my mouth. I slowly wrapped my thick lips around it and sucked it clean.

"Tzuyu?" Minjoon whispered from the side.

With my lips still sucking on my finger, I turned to look at him.

"Sorry," I told him, "Didn't want to get all sticky."

"No harm done," Kim Shik said. "Right, son?"

"Erm, yeah." Minjoon awkwardly replied.

I scooped up the last of the mayonnaise and licked it from my finger before going back to the hot dog.

A little while passed after that, but I knew I needed to do something to get more of Kim Shik's attention.

Which is when an idea came to me. A sat up and reached back to untie the string that held up my bikini top. As it came undone the bra section sunk, but I caught it just in time before my nipples popped out.

Minjoon hadn't noticed, so I pulled the bikini top as far down as possible without my nipples being out, and then I laid back down.

It was five minutes past when Minjoon finally noticed.

"Tzuyu," He said, "You're... your top..."

I looked over to him, Kim Shik had walked over at this stage and was stood a few steps away.

"I just wanted to get as little tan lines as possible." I said to him calmly.

"But you're... you're..." Minjoon stuttered and couldn't find the words.

"Leave the girl be," Kim Shik told him. "She's not hurting anyone, is she?"

Minjoon was caught off guard by that.

"Yeah, Minjoon," I told him. "It's not like I'm flashing my tits."

"What?!" Minjoon choked when he heard me say that, but Kim Shik laughed.

"My nipples are still covered," I told him. "Don't be such a baby."

Before he could say anything, I laid back down, knowing full well that my nipples were a fraction of an inch from being exposed.

Kim Shik would stare at me, and Minjoon would inspect my top to make sure I was covered up. After a while I wanted to give Kim Shik a better show.

I sat up, holding onto my bikini top to stop from flashing and then turned around to get onto my knees. I made a show of bending over and sticking my arse into the air as I moved down onto my stomach. I knew that the thong was pressed tightly against my arsehole as I laid down.

"Tzuyu, what's gotten into you?" Minjoon whispered.

I thought, your dad's cock soon, hopefully.

"Nothing," I told him. "You're the one that seems to have a problem."

"You're just half naked with my dad here." Minjoon whispered.

It was the first time he had ever had any dominant tone to me.

"Aww, are you jealous that your dad is looking at me?" I asked and felt my heart beat even faster.

Minjoon went quiet, and when I looked at him, his face was bright red.

"Oh my god, you are," I laughed. "You're jealous that your dad is looking at my body."

I don't know why, but saying that to Minjoon made my pussy gush in my bikini.

"Shut up." Minjoon whispered weakly.

"He is hot," I said to him. "All those muscles and hair. There's nothing wrong with him looking at a hot sexy idol right”

"Tzuyu!" Minjoon panted out.

"Oh, come on," I told him. "You have that much of a problem with your dad checking me out?"

"I just... it's weird." Minjoon replied.

"Do you think he gets hard over me?" I asked, finding some sick thrill over saying this to my boyfriend.

"Oh my god!" Minjoon gasped.

"I bet he does," I said to him. "I bet looking at me makes his cock very, very hard."

"Stop it." He whispered, but then I noticed a flinch in his shorts.

He was actually getting hard over this!!! I couldn't believe it!

"I bet he'd fuck me properly." I sighed. A girl could dream.

Minjoon didn't reply to that, but he did have to rearrange his cock in his shorts. Yep, my boyfriend was hard!

I didn't push it any further than that on this day. I knew I was walking on a very thin line. As exciting as it was, I knew I would be back.

--

Well, it was three days later when I was back in their garden in another skimpy bikini. After an hour of teasing Kim Shik with my body and Minjoon not being brave enough to say anything, I sat up.

"I'm gonna go for a swim," I said, and I noticed Minjoon move as if to come with me. "Kim Shik, want to join me?"

"Definitely!" Kim Shik shouted.

I noticed Minjoon was about to speak and most likely join us.

"Babe, will you make me an ice coffee?" I asked, knowing it would take him a while, meaning more time alone with his dad in the pool.

"Erm, sure." He replied and walked inside.

I got in the pool first, and Kim Shik quickly joined. The bottom of my hair got wet, and I was swimming just a foot away from Kim Shik. With the water shining from his body, it made him look even hotter.

"You know what you're doing, don't you." Kim Shik whispered to me.

"Oh, and what is that?" I asked with a coy grin on my face.

He swam closer to me, and my foot accidentally grazed his firm thigh. There I was with a man old enough to be my dad, and all I could think about was his cock.

"You're acting like a slut because you want your boyfriend's dad to fuck you." He growled at me.

Fuuuckk!! I loved how he just came out and said it! No beating around the bush, no being too afraid to say what he was thinking. Just straight to the point.

"And you're the one eye fucking his son's half naked girlfriend." I replied and felt my pussy quiver.

Suddenly he lunged forward, and his big, strong arms wrapped around my thin body. I instinctively wrapped my toned legs around his waist and grabbed onto his shoulders to hold myself up. As I did, my crotch pressed against his, and I felt his hard as steel cock.

"Oooh!" I gasped. He felt fucking huge!!

As my body was latched onto his, I started to pant, and then he leaned so his mouth was next to my ear.

"I found Minjoon's folder with all of your nudes," He whispered to me. "I've been eye fucking your naked body for a long time."

My nails dug into his steel shoulder, and I moaned. He had seen me completely naked in many, many positions! I knew this beautiful, older man had been cumming over me! And I loved it!

"You... you've seen them?" I moaned as I grabbed onto him.

I didn't realise it, but I instinctively rubbed my pussy against his hard cock. Just two thin parts of material blocked them.

"I've seen everything," He whispered into my ear as he held me firmer against his body. "I didn't think my son's sweet girlfriend was such a slut."

"Oh fuck." I moaned in his ear.

I was dragging my pussy up and down his cock, practically humping him like a dog in this pool.

"He doesn't fuck you as good as you want, does he?" Kim Shik growled in my ear. "I could tell by the way you were riding him while looking at me, you need a real man to fuck you like a filthy whore."

My clit was throbbing as I was grinding it against his cock. I never thought I would be this girl, but I was so fucking horny!

"I bet your cunt would feel so tight wrapped around my cock." He whispered.

"Fuck!!" I moaned.

I kept grinding my clit against his cock, harder and harder, humping him in that pool without a care in the world as my orgasm started to grow.

Then he took a handful of my hair and pulled it back. Not enough to properly hurt, but enough to show me that he was in control.

"Are you seriously trying to cum right now?" He grunted at me and held me slightly apart from him.

"Y...." I groaned when suddenly...

"What's going on?" Minjoon's nervous voice broke as he spoke.

My eyes shot wide open as I looked past Kim Shik and at my boyfriend. Kim Shik had quickly let go of my hair, and I wondered if Minjoon had seen it. No matter what, this looked dodgy.

But Kim Shik ever so calmly turned his head.

"She can't reach the bottom, so I'm just holding her up." He told her as though nothing was wrong.

Minjoon looked incredibly uncomfortable, and I could still feel Kim Shik's cock twitching in his shorts against me.

"M-Tzuyu," Minjoon stuttered with the ice coffee in his hands, "Are you... okay?"

My legs were still wrapped around my boyfriend's dad with his hard cock pressed against me while I looked at my boyfriend.

"Yes," I told him, "Just needed some extra support."

"Is this not a little inappropriate?" Minjoon asked.

He was stood perfectly still, but I saw the bulge in his swimming shorts.

"He's just holding me up," I told him. "Don't make this weird."

"Yeah Minjoon," Kim Shik told him, "I'm just helping your girlfriend out."

Minjoon was blushing as he looked at us.

"You can put the ice coffee by my seat." I told him.

Just leave, I thought, let me carry on having my fun.

"Oh, okay." Minjoon replied.

I was half shocked by how weak Minjoon was acting. I had my legs and arms wrapped around a man, and he wasn't fighting for me. But when he turned and went to sit down on the sunbeds, I was grateful.

I kept looking at Minjoon, who was watching me, and from where he was sat he could only see our heads and nothing else, which is when I heard Kim Shik whisper.

"Grab my cock," He said to me. "Now."

I looked at him, bit my bottom lip and nodded.

My right hand left his firm shoulder and moved under the water. My fingertips pressed against his rock hard abs and sunk underneath his swimming shorts, where I found his hard, thick, perfect cock.

"Oh my god!" I whispered when I couldn't even wrap my fingers around his shaft.

Minjoon's was the only cock I had touched before, but it was nothing compared to his dad's! I couldn't believe it. I was gripping my boyfriend's dad's cock while my boyfriend watched, although he had no idea.

My fingers and palm explored his meat like it was a new toy, feeling him all over and getting him to twitch in my hand.

"Bigger than Minjoon?" Kim Shik whispered.

I looked into his dominant eyes and bit my lip again.

"So much bigger." I whispered.

"Stroke it." He ordered.

I loved having a man tell me what to do! Not asking for permission or worrying I would say no, but just claiming me and asserting his dominance.

My fingers wrapped around his cock once more and started to move up and down. He was throbbing in my hand, and he was as hard as steel.

"Good girl," Kim Shik whispered. "Such a slut, stroking my cock."

Even though I was engulfed in water, I was fucking boiling!! My pussy was spasming out of control, and my breathing got heavier and heavier as I stroked Kim Shik's big, hard cock.

"You know you're going to be my whore now, don't you?" Kim Shik whispered.

My hand was moving up and down, rubbing the length of him as I panted.

"Yes." I moaned back.

"You're going to let your boyfriend's dad fuck you," Kim Shik told me. "And I'll fuck you like the slut you are."

"Oh fuck." I moaned.

"What are you two doing?" Minjoon shouted over.

He walked over to the side of the pool, but Kim Shik had his back to Minjoon, so even though the water was clear and see through, he couldn't see that my hand was inside his dad's shorts. Although it must have been strange that my hand wasn't visible.

"I'm just getting to know your girlfriend better." Kim Shik told him and laughed.

"I might join you." Minjoon told us, and I saw him reach for the side of the pool.

"No!" I shouted instinctively, my fingers still gripping his dad's cock, "Erm, we need some towels for when we get out."

Kim Shik laughed at my terrible excuse.

"Yeah," Kim Shik joined in though, "Go upstairs and get three towels from the bathroom."

"I don't think we need them," Minjoon said with a concerned tone. "We can just dry in the sun."

"Minjoon!" I shouted. "Just do as your dad tells you!"

He was shocked by me shouting at him, although he didn't say anything and just walked into the house.

"You're such a bitch." Kim Shik told me.

"Oh yeah?" I asked, now alone as I looked into Kim Shik's eyes. "And what are you gonna do about it?"

He took a handful of my hair again and yanked it back, and I let out moan of pleasure and pain.

"Whatever the fuck I want." He growled.

He gripped my head and pulled it towards him, which is when his lips aggressively pressed against mine. I melted into the kiss! My fingers grasped harder on his cock and went back to stroking him as he kissed me.

My tits pressed against his chest, and Kim Shik shoved his tongue into my mouth.

"Mmmm ooohh!" I moaned as I made out with my boyfriend's dad.

I was cheating, but I couldn't care less! This is what I needed! I needed a man who would just take what he wanted.

His tongue explored my mouth as our tongues wrestled against each other. When I heard Kim Shik grunting into my mouth and his cock twitch in my hand, I let out my own moan.

Kim Shik let go of my hand and moved down to grab my ass cheeks. Feeling his fingers dig into my flesh made me let out another loud moan.

"Oh fuck... Kim Shik..." I moaned as he grabbed me, and I stroked him.

"Oh no," Kim Shik growled, "I'm your Daddy now."

"Fuuuckk!" I moaned. "Yes, Daddy!"

For a while we were both just panting and looking at each other as he felt my body and I worked his cock.

"Tzuyu!" Minjoon's voice shouted, and I looked past his dad and at my boyfriend.

"What?!" I shouted back without thinking.

He looked scared by me shouting at him, and how he didn't notice what was going on I had no idea.

"I... I got the towels." He told me.

I was ready to just let everything out, but then Kim Shik let go and pushed me away.

"Good," He said and left me in the middle of the pool, "Thanks son."

Kim Shik climbed out of the pool, and his body was like a superhero's, dripping in water and so fucking hot! He had no care about hiding the giant hard cock underneath his swim shorts. Minjoon glanced at it and went bright red but didn't say anything.

I climbed out after him and grabbed a towel from Minjoon.

"Thanks babe." I said and kissed his cheek before wrapping the towel around me.

"What were you two doing in there?" Minjoon whispered to me.

"Just hanging out." I replied.

"It looked like... I don't know." Minjoon whispered.

"Don't worry." I told him and walked off.

I laid back on the sunbed and drank the ice coffee that Minjoon made me while Kim Shik cleaned the BBQ. Another thirty minutes went by when I stood up and went to get myself a drink of water.

I was alone in the kitchen for a few seconds when a strong, firm hand grabbed my arse cheeks from behind. I knew it was Kim Shik.

He pressed his firm, half naked body against my back and pushed me against the kitchen counter.

"You better not think that I'm done with you." He growled into my ear from behind.

I looked forward out the window, and I could see Minjoon sat in the sun as his own dad pressed his hard cock against my ass.

"I pray to god that you're not done." I told him.

I felt so slutty and so free!

SPANK!

"Oooh!" I moaned as his palm crashed against my bare arse. God I never knew how much I loved getting spanked.

"Fucking whore," Kim Shik whispered. He grabbed me and spun me around, and then suddenly he grabbed my bikini top and yanked it off so my perky, soft tits bounced free. He was finally seeing them in person. "Even better than the pictures," he remarked.

His hands grabbed them firmly, and his fingers pulled on my nipples.

"Oooooh fuck!" I moaned. "I'm so glad you saw my pictures!"

Kim Shik slapped my tits, and I let out a yelp and a moan. Then he grabbed my shoulders and pushed me to the floor. I was on my knees, and when I looked up, Kim Shik was grabbing his swimming shorts. With a quick yank they were down by his ankles, and his big, majestic cock sprung free.

"Oh my fucking god!" I gasped! It was so much bigger than I expected.

"Let's see what slutty mouth feels like." He told me.

I actually gulped as I looked at his massive cock.

I sat up on my knees and gripped onto his cock with my right hand. I looked up at him one last time before licking my lips and staring at his cock again. My head moved forward, and I felt the warmth of his meat fill my mouth.

My lips closed and wrapped around his shaft, although I could barely fit him inside.

"Mmmm!" I moaned as I tasted a real man's cock filling my mouth!

It was godly! He throbbed in my mouth, and when I ran the base of my tongue along his head, I thought I'd died and gone to heaven!

What I didn't know was that it had been years since Kim Shik had received a blowjob, and feeling my young, hot mouth around his cock unlocked that animalistic side that he had hidden since his wife died.

I had barely started licking his head when he grabbed onto my hair. I looked up just as he pulled me down and forced his cock down my throat, deeper than Minjoon's was able to go, even if he tried to.

"Glllg!" I gagged on a cock for the first time in my life.

"That's it, slut," Kim Shik grunted. God, he had missed having a woman as a sex toy. "Take this fucking cock."

He shoved my head back and then down again.

"Gllg!" I gagged, "Gllg... gllg... gllg.. gllgg!"

Up and down he forced my mouth to take his cock over and over again! It was fucking amazing!!! This was what I had always wanted!!

He gripped onto my black hair, almost threatening to pull it out as he ruthlessly fucked my throat with his monster cock.

In a matter of seconds, spit started to drool down my chin and against my tits before dropping to the ground.

I was constantly gagging and moaning around his dick as he just took me.

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" Kim Shik moaned. He had forgotten how good a hot mouth felt. "Take it, you fucking whore!!"

My boyfriend was just outside, completely unaware that his own father was ruthlessly fucking his girlfriend's mouth like it was a flesh light.

Then, Kim Shik pulled my head down harder than ever. I felt his head hit my throat, and it tried to stop, but he kept pulling me.

"Swallow!" He grunted.

I just obeyed and swallowed, which allowed my throat to open, and another inch of his cock sunk down.

"GLLLLLLGGGGGG!!" I let out one long, loud gag as my throat gripped around his cock.

A constant stream of spit was pouring down my chin. My eyes were bulged and bloodshot as tears streamed down my cheeks.

Kim Shik held me down like that, air completely cut off as he filled my throat. I looked up at him with my tear filled eyes. I tried to breathe, but that would just make me gag around his cock and make my cheeks cave in.

"Keep holding it!" He growled.

My face started to turn red as I ran out of oxygen. I tried to instinctively pull back, but he tightened his grip and held me down.

Somehow, not even his entire cock was down my throat! There was still an inch or two left!!

"Gllllgggg!" I gagged and moaned as my lungs emptied.

I kept trying to pull back, but he wouldn't let up.

In my state of panic my hands slapped at his thighs, and finally Kim Shik let go of me. My head pulled back, and I felt every inch of his cock slide out of my throat. When his head pulled back a gallon of spit poured down my chin, and I gasped for air.

"Oh my god.... Ahhh." I panted.

My lungs were burning, and I was struggling to catch my breath. My face felt wet with tears and spit.

"Was that too rough?" Kim Shik asked me, and from his tone I could tell he was genuinely concerned.

After years of taming down his dominant sexual animal only to release it on a young girl, now Kim Shik was worried he took it too far.

I ran the back of my hand across my spit covered mouth and chin and looked up at him.

"Not at all... Daddy." I panted.

The smile on his face when I said that could've made me cum. I didn't wait for him to force his cock back into my mouth because I lunged for it.

"Mmmmm!" I moaned as I sloppily bobbed up and down like some porn star.

I slurped, spat, licked and sucked his cock like some cheap whore.

My right hand pulled my bikini bottoms to one side, and I sunk two fingers deep into my drenched pussy.

"Mmmmm!!" I moaned as I sucked his dick and fingered myself on the floor.

My mouth worked his cock like my life depended on it while I finger fucked myself for him. I loved fingering myself, but I was furiously plunging my fingers in and out on the kitchen floor.

"You fucking whore!" Kim Shik moaned. "Fuck!"

"Mmmmm!!" I kept moaning.

I pulled back to spit on his cock and then wrapped my lips around his meat again. I felt drenched in my own spit as it leaked down my chin and onto my tits in thick, white strands.

Kim Shik started to moan louder and louder, and his cock throbbed in my mouth. I was sure he was on the brink of cumming when he grabbed my head and pushed me back so hard I fell.

"Not yet," He grunted and pulled his shorts up, taking away my new favourite toy. "Get your ass back outside."

He went first, leaving me panting on the floor and covered in spit. I wanted to just finger myself to an orgasm right there, but I was going to follow every one of his orders.

I used the sink to wash my face and fingers before putting my bikini back into place and headed outside.

"Where have you been?" Minjoon asked me when I returned.

"Just the bathroom," I told him, and Kim Shik flashed me a wink. God, I wanted him. "You okay?"

"You and dad are acting weird." Minjoon grumbled.

"Don't worry about it." I told him and laid down.

I wish I could tell you that I felt guilty for the fact that I had just cheated on my boyfriend with his own dad. But I didn't. All I wanted was to have his dad fuck me.

Not long later, Kim Shik was lying down on a sunbed when he looked up.

"Tzuyu, will you put some sunscreen on me?" He shouted over.

"Dad!" Minjoon shouted. "That's not okay."

"Don't be so silly," I told Minjoon. "Of course I'll help."

Minjoon sighed as I walked over to his dad who laid on his stomach. I smirked to myself as I straddled his back, knowing full well that he could feel my hot, wet pussy against his back.

I poured the sunscreen onto Kim Shik's firm, hairy back and started to rub it in. Occasionally when I looked over, I could see how unhappy Minjoon was. I don't know why, but that turned me on more!

My small, soft hands ran all over Kim Shik's back, rubbing in the sunscreen and practically massaging this amazing man.

I pressed them into his shoulder blades, then his sides, feeling every inch of his back.

"Think you're ready for your front." I told him.

Kim Shik began to turn onto his back when Minjoon argued.

"No!" He shouted. "Dad, you can do that yourself."

"Minjoon, don't be such a baby." I told him, and he immediately backed down.

Now, I was straddled onto Kim Shik, and I could feel his hard cock pressed against my pussy with just our swimming costumes in the way. I was smiling at Kim Shik as I poured sunscreen onto his hairy chest.

My hand pressed onto him and began to spread it around. His muscles were so firm, I was heating up and completely forgot that my boyfriend was right there.

When my hands rubbed against his abs, my pussy twitched. Before I knew it, I was gently grinding myself against his hard cock.

Then, Kim Shik's hands landed on my smooth, firm thighs as I gently rocked back and forth.

"What is going on here?" Minjoon asked in a weak, pathetic tone.

"Be quiet." I panted.

I was rubbing his hairy chest. The sunscreen was well rubbed in now, but I wasn't stopping. I wanted Kim Shik, and he wanted me.

My pussy pressed down harder onto his throbbing cock as I stroked his entire length with it.

"Oh god." I panted.

"Tzuyu!" Minjoon gasped, but there was no hiding what was going on now.

"Minjoon!" Kim Shik shouted. "Shut up!"

Kim Shik gripped my thighs and started to push and pull me, stroking his cock with my body as I panted and my breathing got heavier.

"But... but..." Minjoon whispered.

He was sat there, watching his hot girlfriend grinding her pussy on his dad's hard cock, and he couldn't stop it.

He could just see my firm ass clench and relax as I pressed my clit harder against his dad.

"She's my girlfriend." Minjoon whispered weakly.

Kim Shik's firm grip pushed me further down his waist. Before I knew it, he grabbed his swimming shorts, pulled them down and his big, hard cock bounced free.

"Dad!" Minjoon shouted.

"Oh god!" I moaned. "I need it!"

My sunscreen covered hands grabbed his cock. Both of them wrapped around his meat and worked it up and down as he throbbed in my palms.

"Tzuyu... stop... please..." Minjoon pleaded.

I looked down at Kim Shik's glistening cock as both of my hands stroked him up and down.

"I'm sorry, Minjoon," I whispered but didn't stop looking at his dad's cock. "But I need a real man... and a real cock."

"What?" Minjoon whispered.

He was watching his girlfriend wanking his dad's cock, and he wasn't even stopping it.

"Show him what you were just doing in the kitchen." Kim Shik told me.

I knew it was humiliating Minjoon, but I didn't care. I was Kim Shik's to control.

With a flick of my head my black hair went backwards. Both of my hands held his cock upright, and I let a string of spit fall from my lips and land on his head.

"Tzuyu... don't." Minjoon whispered.

I didn't look or speak to him. I was sat up and bent my body over and wrapped my lips around Kim Shik's thick, hard cock.

"Ooohhh, good slut!" Kim Shik moaned.

"Mmmm!" I moaned as I did my best to suck his cock at this awkward angle.

My warm, wet tongue swirled around his thick head as my lips moved up and down his shaft. My hands kept stroking the parts that my mouth couldn't reach.

"That's it," Kim Shik grunted. "Show my son how a slut sucks a real cock."

"Mmmm!" I moaned again.

Minjoon was silent as he watched me taking his dad. For five minutes I serviced his cock until he grabbed me and pulled me up.

Once again, I was straddling Kim Shik with just my bikini blocking his cock to my pussy that pressed down on him.

Kim Shik grabbed my bikini top and yanked it free, so my big tits were free.

"Dad..." Minjoon whispered.

"I'm.... sorry..." I moaned as his dad was grabbing my body all over.

My tits pressed against Kim Shik's chest as I leaned down to kiss him. My tongue was inside Kim Shik's mouth, running against his own as he grabbed my back and then moved down to grab my arse cheeks.

"Mmm! Mmmm! Daddy!" I moaned into his mouth.

"Tzuyu..." Minjoon whispered again.

I was grinding up and down Kim Shik's bare cock as we made out, and he grabbed and spanked my arse.

I was moaning and panting into Kim Shik's mouth, but god, I was desperate for him.

"Right," Kim Shik said and spanked me again. "Let's go upstairs."

"What?" Minjoon asked.

Kim Shik threw me off him, and we both stood up. Minjoon stood up as if he was going to put his foot down until we all noticed the tent in his trousers! I couldn't stop myself from bursting into laughter.

"Jesus Christ, Minjoon," I laughed. "I don't think I've ever seen you that hard!"

Kim Shik laughed as well, and although Minjoon was bright red, he actually let out a weak moan.

Kim Shik's firm hand slapped and grabbed my arse cheek and pulled me close to his body.

"It's okay, son," Kim Shik said. "You can watch me fuck your girlfriend if you want."

"I'm sorry Minjoon," I told him genuinely. "But I need a real fucking. But yeah, feel free to watch. Maybe you can get some tips."

"He wishes." Kim Shik laughed.

My arms were around Kim Shik as we headed inside, neither of us caring to see if Minjoon was following. It was only when we got into Kim Shik's bedroom did we realise Minjoon was still with us as he closed the door.

"You can sit there," Kim Shik told him and pointed to an arm chair in the corner, and then he looked back at me. "Take off the last of your bikini."

"Yes, Daddy." I replied.

I pulled the string at the side of my bikini bottoms and let them drop to the floor, so both Kim Shik and I were naked. Kim Shik grabbed me, pulled my naked body against his and pushed his tongue into my mouth again.

I wondered what Minjoon was thinking as he watched his small, thin, hot girlfriend making out with his giant, muscular dad.

Kim Shik was grabbing my arse, pulling my cheeks apart, and I reached down to grip his cock and stroke him.

He threw me onto the bed, and I landed on my back. My legs instinctively spread open for him, giving Kim Shik his first look at my smooth, tight pussy.

As Kim Shik knelt onto the bed between my legs, he looked up at me.

"It's been a while since I've tasted a delicious pussy." He whispered.

When his tongue first made contact with my throbbing clit, my entire body tensed up and my chest heaved into the air.

"Fuuuck yes!" I moaned.

My fingers grabbed onto his head as his tongue flicked my clit over and over.

"Oh my god!! Minjoon! Minjoon!" I shouted. "It feels so fucking good!!"

Kim Shik was a master of going down on a woman. Every flick of his tongue was perfection! He would suck my smooth lips into his mouth and massage them before sliding the base of his tongue against my clit.

My moaning grew louder and louder until I was a desperate, slutty mess!

"Fuck me!" I shouted. "Oooh fuck, please fuck me!!"

Kim Shik looked up, and his lips were wet with my juices, and he smiled. He started to kiss and lick his way up my firm body. When his lips wrapped around my tits and his teeth bit down on my nipple, I grunted loudly.

His big, swinging cock tapped at my pussy.

"You're not wearing a condom." Minjoon whispered.

Kim Shik thrust his tongue into my mouth, and I wrapped my legs around him. Neither of us cared to answer Minjoon as we made out like two passionate lovers.

The head of Kim Shik's cock teased my desperate hole.

"Please..." I moaned, "Please... put it in me."

Kim Shik licked my neck, and then I felt his teeth bite down hard. I knew he was leaving a love bite to mark me as his slut, and I loved it!

"Just... don't cum inside her." Minjoon whispered. Once again, we ignored him.

As soon as I felt his head pushing past my wet folds, I could tell how much thicker he was than my boyfriend. It felt like I was losing my virginity again.

"Ooooohhh!" I gasped for air as my pussy stretched around Kim Shik's cock, and he delved inside of me.

He felt so unnaturally big that my pussy literally gripped around his shaft as inch after inch went deeper and deeper.

"Da... Daadddy." I moaned.

When I felt his body press against mine and I knew he was balls deep inside of me, I gasped for breath. I knew I could never go back to Minjoon's dick and feel any sort of satisfaction. Kim Shik had changed me and my pussy. This was what sex was supposed to feel like.

I gripped onto his back, and my nails dug into his skin as my legs wrapped tightly around his waist.

"FUUUCKKING HELL!!" I shouted. "YOU'RE SO FUCKING BIG!!"

Kim Shik's hips pulled back and thrusted deep into me again, forcing the air from my lungs as I gasped.

"Such a tight cunt," Kim Shik grunted. "Has Minjoon even been inside you before?"

"He... might as well... not have." I gasped through heavy breaths.

Minjoon was gasping and moaning in the corner, but I didn't care. All that mattered was Kim Shik's big cock.

Kim Shik was doing long, slow thrusts. I knew he was trying to build up my pussy to take him, but I needed him now!! My hands moved down his back, and my nails dug into his firm arse cheeks.

"FUCK ME!!" I shouted and actually slapped his arse. "Fuck me now!"

"You asked for it, fucking whore." Kim Shik grunted.

"Dad..." Minjoon gasped.

But then Kim Shik pulled out his entire cock and shoved it deep inside of me.

"Yeeess!" I grunted.

I grabbed onto Kim Shik for dear life as he started to pound into my body like a rabid animal! My nails clawed at his back. I knew it was hurting him, but that just made him fuck me harder.

"Yes! Yes! Yes! Fuck me!" I shouted.

He shoved his tongue into my mouth and aggressively made out with me as he battered my cunt.

"Mmm! Mmmm! I moaned into our sloppy kiss.

I wanted to be a whore for Kim Shik, the best whore he could imagine! He had given me exactly what I wanted.

I grabbed his head and pushed him back slightly.

"Spit in my mouth." I moaned and heard Minjoon gasp. He had no idea what a depraved slut his girlfriend was.

"You filthy slut." Kim Shik laughed.

I opened my mouth and stuck out my tongue just in time for Kim Shik to spit directly into it. I gulped down his spit.

"Mmm, thank you, Daddy." I moaned.

He was driving his thick, long cock in and out of my pussy. With every thrust I was being forced into the bed. I was moaning like a fucking whore and loving every second of it!

"Oooh! Oooh! Oooh fuck, Daddy yess!!" I screamed as my pussy gripped around his cock. I was about to cum from sex for the first time in my life. "FUUCKK DADDY, I'M CUMMING!!!"

I screamed at the top of my lungs so hard it hurt my throat as my cunt gushed around his big, thick, hard cock.

"Keep cumming, you whore!!" Kim Shik roared.

His fingers gripped around my throat and held me down onto the bed as he fucked me through the biggest orgasm of my life.

"YEEESS DADDY!!" I moaned through his choking.

My legs went limp and flopped to the sides as Kim Shik's throbbing cock battered my ruined pussy.

"Turn around, whore." He grunted.

As soon as his cock left my aching cunt, I missed it. Then he grabbed my hips and forced me onto my hands and knees. He purposefully had me facing Minjoon, so I could look him in the eye as his own father destroyed my tight hole.

Kim Shik slapped my ass so hard I knew it would leave a mark, and then he grabbed my hips and forced his entire cock, balls deep inside of me.

"Ooooh fuck!" I moaned as my insides got rearranged by Kim Shik. "He's so big!" I moaned and looked into Minjoon's eyes.

He looked a mixture of excitement and sadness seeing his sweet, innocent girlfriend turn into a desperate whore in front of him. But the tent in his shorts made me know that he was enjoying it.

My head hung down as Kim Shik hammered in and out of me. His body slapped against mine every time, and my firm ass bounced against him.

Then Kim Shik grabbed my hair and yanked my head up.

"Tell Minjoon how you like it?" Kim Shik growled at me and made me look at his son and my boyfriend.

"I looove it!" I moaned. "Oooh Minjoon, he's so much... so much bigger than you! So much better!"

Minjoon's small, smooth chest was heaving up and down as he watched his girlfriend get ruined before his eyes.

Another sick thought came to my head. Apparently I liked humiliating my boyfriend, and so did he.

"Come... mmmfff fuck!" I moaned as Kim Shik drilled my cunt. "Come show me that little cock!"

"You sick bitch." Kim Shik laughed and slapped my ass.

Minjoon was hesitant and didn't move.

"Now!" I shouted at him.

Kim Shik eased up on his harsh fucking, so I wasn't bouncing as much while Minjoon walked towards me. He stood at the end of the bed, but he was too nervous to get out his little, thin cock. Fucking pussy.

I grabbed his shorts and yanked them down, revealing his hard cock.

"Fucking hell, Minjoon," Kim Shik laughed.

"I know!" I laughed as well and grabbed Minjoon's cock. Having now felt Kim Shik's meat, Minjoon's felt like nothing. "How did I go so long with this little thing!"

Kim Shik was slowly fucking me, which meant I could feel every inch of his thick cock sliding in and out of me. My pussy was clenching around him, coating his shaft in my juices.

My fingers wrapped around Minjoon's dick easily, and I stroked it.

"Oooohh!" Minjoon moaned and twitched in my hand.

"This is all you deserve," I moaned to him. "You can get my hand while a real cock uses my cunt!"

Kim Shik sped up fucking me, and it made my tits bounce underneath me as my pussy now loosened up and took him with ease.

My right hand was stroking up and down my boyfriend's little cock as he leaked all over it and moaned.

"I'm... ooh fuck, Minjoon!" I moaned. "I can't go back to this... mmm fuucckk! I'm gonna need your dad's cock from now on!"

SPANK! SPANK! SPANK!

Kim Shik battered my arse cheeks with his hands as he fucked me harder and harder.

"I hope you understand," I moaned. "I... I'll still be your girlfriend... but only your dad can fuck me from now on!"

He was twitching in my hand and moaning louder. Kim Shik was laughing as his body slapped against mine.

I started to bounce back on Kim Shik, stroking his cock with my cunt as I moaned and panted.

"You're... oooh fuck, Daddy!!" I shouted. "You're just... so fucking small!!"

"Oooohh Tzuyu!!" Minjoon squealed as his little cock started to shoot cum all over my face.

"Fucking hell!" Kim Shik laughed. "That was fast!"

Although I was surprised by taking a facial off my pathetic boyfriend, I kept stroking him throughout. It was the least I could do since I was fucking his dad.

Minjoon kept erupting over my face, and it dripped down onto the bed as I stroked his little pecker and used his cum as lube to jerk him faster.

"Sit down, son. You're all done here." Kim Shik told him.

I gave Minjoon's cock that was already going soft a little tap, more of a slap, and laughed. Humiliated, Minjoon went and sat down again in the corner.

Kim Shik grabbed my hair and pulled my head up.

"Right then," Kim Shik grunted, and then he shoved my head down so it pressed against the bed while my arse stayed stuck in the air. "Time to claim this cunt!"

I honestly couldn't believe how fucking hard he was battering my pussy with his cock.

It was like a man possessed, hell bent on ruining my young, tight cunt. His entire body hammered into me. I was making noises I never knew I could. I screamed with pleasure at the top of my lungs.

Before long I felt coated in my own sweat as I became a piece of meat for Kim Shik to fuck.

"Fuuck!" Kim Shik groaned. "Get ready for my cum!!"

My pussy tightened around his thick cock as he slid it in and out.

"No!" Minjoon protested. "Don't cum in her! She's not on the pill!"

SPANK!

Kim Shik pulled my head up slightly by my hair.

"Whore, what do you say?" He asked me.

I managed to turn my head enough to look at Minjoon while I felt Kim Shik's throbbing cock pulsate inside of me. I knew no matter what, I was going to get my unprotected pussy bathed in his seed, but I wanted Minjoon to know that I wanted it.

"Cum inside me!" I moaned, and Minjoon gasped. "Fill my unprotected, teen cunt with your thick, hot cum!"

He fucked me harder and harder, and the sound of my wet pussy being slapped by his cock filled the room as Minjoon whispered to himself, begging his dad not to do it.

"Cum inside me, Daddy!" I moaned. "Please fill your whore with cum! Drain your balls inside me!! Fuuck Daddy, cum inside my fucking cunt!!"

"Fuuuuuucckkkkk!!" Kim Shik roared at the top of his lungs as his cock expanded, stretching me even wider, and then I felt it.

The first time in my life... a stream of hot, baby making cum landed inside my cunt.

"YEEESSS DADDY!!" I screamed as another orgasm was forced through my body.

Kim Shik and I were cumming together as his seed unloaded deep inside of me, heading straight for my womb.

Minjoon just sat there and watched as his dad was breeding me. I could feel Minjoon's cum on my face while his dad unleashed his cum inside my unprotected cunt.

I clenched my cunt around Kim Shik. I wanted to milk every drop of cum from his balls inside of me.

Both of us were panting and gasping for breath as our orgasms slowly died down.

"Oh my god... oh my god..." I panted.

I pulled sweaty strands of hair from my face and looked up at my boyfriend. Kim Shik slapped my ass and pulled out of me.

I remained on my hands and knees while I felt his cum leak out of my cunt and drain down my thighs.

"Son," Kim Shik called out, "Come look at what I've done to your girlfriend."

Like the weak person he was, Minjoon walked behind me. I could feel my pussy spasming as Minjoon observed the gallon of cum leaking from it.

"What if she gets pregnant?" Minjoon whispered.

Another sick thought came to my head.

I rolled onto my back and spread my legs.

Guess you will have to try and stop that." I told him and laughed.

Minjoon looked at me and then his dad, who was also laughing.

"H-how?" Minjoon asked.

"Well," I told him and spread my legs wider as my fingers rolled around my pussy lips and got coated in Kim Shik's cum, "Although he came so much and so deep in me that he probably will get me pregnant, you could try and stop it... by eating my creampied cunt."

"What?!" Minjoon gasped. "No... I can't."

"Mmm come on, baby," I moaned and started to finger my battered, swollen pussy with Kim Shik's cum. "You don't want your dad to get your girlfriend pregnant, do you?"

"N-no..." He whispered.

I fingered myself a little faster, pushing the cum back inside of me while my boyfriend watched.

"Come on, Minjoon," I moaned. "His cum is staying in me... only one way for you to try and stop it."

"Go on, son," Kim Shik laughed and put a hand on Minjoon's back. "See if you can stop your Dad from breeding your girlfriend."

Minjoon looked at me, his dad, and then my pussy.

"You won't cum inside her again?" Minjoon asked.

"No promises." Kim Shik laughed.

My heart beat faster when I saw Minjoon lowering himself. He was actually about to eat my pussy that was filled with his own dad's cum!!

"Mmmm, good boy," I moaned as he got closer. "Get all of that cum out of me. Stop me from getting pregnant by another man."

He was too embarrassed to speak, but his tongue found my battered hole.

"Ooooh Minjoon!" I moaned. "That's it! Eat my creampie!"

To my own surprise, Minjoon ate my pussy with more passion than ever before! I was sure he loved the taste of his own dad's cum. He looked so pathetic, eating all of the cum from me for ten minutes while me and Kim Shik laughed at him.

"Right, that's enough," Kim Shik said. "Tzuyu, I'll let you know the next time you can take my cock."

I stood up and kissed Kim Shik.

"Thanks, Daddy," and then I grabbed Minjoon's hand. "Come on, babe. I'm knackered after that."

Minjoon was either too stunned or ashamed to say anything, but we went back to his room together, where I practically passed out after that fucking.

After Cuckolding

When I woke up, Minjoon was already awake with a blank look on his face.

"Mmm, morning babe," I said. I went to sit up, but between my legs ached. "Damn, your dad really battered me, didn't he?"

"Tzuyu," Minjoon whispered, "How did that happen?"

"What?" I asked. "Me and your dad? Look babe, I need a dominant man to really fuck me properly."

"I can do that." Minjoon told me.

"Oh honey, it's cute that you think that," I said and held his hand, "But you can't. You're just not man enough to do it. But your dad is."

He kept looking at my eyes, and I leaned in and kissed his cheek.

"You're amazing in other ways," I reassured him. "You're a great boyfriend. You're kind, caring and loving. You just can't fuck me how I need to be fucked. It's not serious. It's just sex."

"So... you're going to keep doing it?" He asked.

"Yes," I answered honestly. "I can't go back to... that," I said and pointed at his crotch. "Like I said, you can still be my boyfriend and we will be a happy couple, but I'm going to keep fucking your dad whenever he wants me."

I could see the cogs turning behind his eyes. I wasn't even that surprised that he wasn't objecting. This was just who Minjoon was.

"He can't keep cumming inside you." Minjoon told me.

"That's up to him really." I said with a smile.

"Tzuyu, what if you get pregnant?" He weakly argued.

"Look, I'm your dad's to use. If he wants to knock me up, then that's up to him," I said. "If you want to keep trying to stop it by eating his cum out of me, then I won't stop you. I'm willing to do that for you."

He looked ashamed and embarrassed that he had actually gone down on me after his dad came inside me.

"Is it true... that I can only have your hand from now on?" He asked me.

"Yeah," I answered. Even if Kim Shik didn't make me, I wouldn't want to have sex with Minjoon again. "After your dad ruined my pussy, now your cock will do nothing for me. But I'll wank you off every now and again."

It was a ridiculous offer, but Minjoon agreed obviously.

For a while Kim Shik and I would only have sex while Minjoon was there to watch. But after a while we couldn't wait for Minjoon. Kim Shik would start texting me to come over where I'd suck his dick, and then he started fucking me without Minjoon there.

Sometimes Minjoon only found out that his dad had fucked me when he ate my pussy and tasted his dad's cum.

I jerked Minjoon's cock at least once a week, normally while degrading him, and he really loved that.

80% of the time Minjoon and I were like a normal, happy couple that were in love. But when his father was there, I was Kim Shik's whore. It might be weird, but it worked for us.

What next?

Which led us to the start of this story. Cum was leaking out of my pussy as I had been riding Kim Shik's cock for nearly an hour, screaming my head off as my cuckold boyfriend listened from downstairs.

I was sweating and panting as I laid next to Kim Shik.

"I fucking love your cock." I moaned.

"Oh, I know," Kim Shik said with a smile. "I think it's time to start with the next plan."

"Really?" I asked and rolled over to look at him.

"Yeah, I already bought it. It's in the cupboard." He told me.

I got up, excited as I pulled out the new toy.

"Do you really think he'd go for it?" I asked as I held the object in my hands.

"He's already eaten god knows how much of my cum from your pussy," Kim Shik said to me. "This won't be hard to get him to agree to."

I tried out the toy, tying the straps to me and then held the thick dildo in my hands. It was my first strap on.

"So, you want to make my cuckold boyfriend into a faggot as well?" I asked and laughed.

"Oh yeah," Kim Shik said. "His cock is pretty useless, but at least his ass could be made to work."

I thought about fucking Minjoon with the strap on, and the idea made my cum filled pussy ready for another round.

In a minute I was bent over as Kim Shik fucked me from behind.

"FUCK ME DADDY!! FUCK YOUR WHORE'S CUNT!!! OOOH FUCK, DADDY, BREED ME AGAIN!!" I screamed, and I knew Minjoon was downstairs, stroking his little cock to the sounds.

My soon to be cock taking, cuckold boyfriend.