Hi, I’m Ddeun. I was inspired by various authors (@ov105, @nsfwtwicecatcher, @lockefanfic, @sinsatmidnight, and @kesujo). Instead of trying to find smut of the idols I want, I decided to try writing them myself. Not taking requests. Will be mostly PWP and maybe some short mini-series. Goes without saying, but all stories are entirely fictional and not real in any way, shape, or form. Thank you for reading.
Asks are non-anonymous, let me know if you want me to answer something privately.
AN: Been up for almost a month on FP, finally cross-posting this one. I'll be honest, everything is 100x easier over there, so sorry if things are delayed on Tumblr.
“What exactly are you doing up on the counter like that?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“And why exactly are you wearing shoes on there? You do realise we cook in this kitchen?”
Asa lowers her shoulders just a little, but it does so much more than a subtle movement should ever have the power to do. Now isn’t that the understatement that underpins it all. Fine details and mildly-reserved seduction cooked into the drop of a shoulder, the hike of a leg, the tilt of her hips. It’s Asa’s modus operandi, and you’re her favourite victim.
“Not like you ever cook.”
Avoiding the questions. Gaslighting. This woman has a game to play, and you’re part of it. If you were ever unwilling, you would be dragged, kicking and screaming, into it.
You are never unwilling.
"I baked you a cake."
"Yeah, well, I'm a little distracted here."
"What's distracting you?"
"Oh I don't know... Maybe my girlfriend? Up on the counter? Ass in the air and back arched, wearing some little black leather shorts?"
"Just eat the damn cake."
"I'm thinking about it."
"Yeah?" Asa shoots you a sly smile, biting on one of those long black nails in a way that communicates an opening into a mind you're all too familiar with. Devilish looks with a sinful mind - there's always something in there. "Well, I know you're a messy eater; hope you plan on cleaning up once you're finished. There's a lot of cream filling inside."
Yep, that’s something, alright.
She's doing that thing again - tugging on the little invisible string around your heart, forcing it to thump faster. You swallow thickly. You're walking closer, focusing on her lips as she speaks again.
"And, well, it is your birthday..."
Your birthday. You're too distracted by the fact she's pressing her chest to the counter, deepening the arch of her back even further and lying her face against the smooth surface. Her cute cheek squashed against the marble, dark eyelashes fluttering upwards as she looks at you through them. The way she's wiggling her hips slightly, back and forth, in those tight shorts...
"My birthday," you echo her words.
She's sliding her hand over her thigh now, fingertips pressing into the pale skin. She grips, and she squeezes and fuck -
"Mhm," she's smiling, "so you're allowed to have your...cake. Indulge a little. Eat it up."
Those catty eyes are trained on you as she presses her hand further down. You're standing at the counter now, chest heavy and struggling with each breath. A figurative growl from somewhere deep inside you as you catch her wrist, pulling it away from where it's getting dangerously close to her crotch.
"Let me." You tell her, taking in yet another shaky breath. "Let me...enjoy it how I want to."
Her eyes widen with excitement as she pushes her hips back and, fuck, that’s too hot. "That's the spirit, birthday boy. Do what you want."
"You're really the best girlfriend," you begin to tug the shorts from her hips, watching her skin rise with goosebumps as your fingertips brush over her - subtle things. "You know that?"
"Yeah, well." Asa bites her lower lip for a moment before letting it slip free. "I love spoiling you."
You pull the tight fabric over her ass and the soft flesh spills out, plump and fucking perfect.
"Your ass..." You can't help it. You have to grip it. You drag your fingertips across her skin. It's so perfectly smooth and inviting and...
Her throat rumbles with a laugh. "You act like you've never seen it before."
You dive in without thinking, lips immediately pressing to the skin, teeth grazing, tongue sneaking out to get a taste. Her little whimper makes you want more.
"I like it." You tell her against her flesh. You pepper kisses down to her thighs before pulling back. "Every time is like the first time."
"Cringe," she mocks.
"Hey, it's my birthday, remember? You can't be mean to me."
She lifts a brow. You duck your head down again, allowing your teeth to dig into the skin. Her breath hitches. You smile against her, pulling back, watching the way the spot turns a delicate pink colour. You take your time, letting your hands wander her ass, watching the way her flesh reacts. You slide your palm down her thigh, and she rolls her hips, trying to chase the touch.
"Please..." Asa's breathless, her voice filled with want, "just... eat the cake already." Her tone is playful, but there is something about the edge that makes you think she's really trying to hold back. That she wants you more than she's letting on.
"It looks so pretty." Your fingers move, sliding over her bare pussy, just peeking through the gap at the top of her thighs. You prod your fingertips inside, finding her wet already. Of course she is. Then there's the moan.
Asa's moans - you could wax lyrical about them. You could write sonnets and songs and poetry about them. You want to record them sometimes, just so you can listen back whenever you want, but then you remember just how easy it is to elicit new ones. There's always something so playful about them, even when they're low and gravelly. It's like she's laughing a little as she moans, like she's having so much damn fun.
You place a hand on each cheek. Your birthday cake, in all its glory, is laid out on the counter for you. You lean in, dragging your tongue up from her slit and resting your face between those pert little cheeks.
Fuck, she's sweet - sweeter than the cake you're ignoring, and she smells so good. Her whole body just has this way of making you want to bury your face into any part of her that you can and just melt away into her.
You're tasting her sinful little hole, ass pressed back against your face, and her moans are growing louder. You're swirling your tongue against her. Her fingers grip at the edge of the counter, and she's pushing back more and more.
Eating her ass is one of your favourite things in the world. In part because of her reaction, which is always perfect, and partly because of her taste. The way she wriggles and tries to control it and can't help but just give in to the pleasure of it all. You're rock hard already, and your cock is pressing against your pants.
You pull back, taking a moment to grip her cheeks and watch them spread, spitting on her hole, watching the way her body shivers. You press your thumb to it, and it succumbs to the pressure, swallowing it whole.
Her moans are endless, and she's trying to roll her hips, to fuck back against your finger. You work your thumb inside, and she reacts in all those dirty little ways you can never forget. Her whole body is shivering, and it's honestly the hottest thing you've ever seen in your life (and Asa has given you a whole catalogue to choose from).
"Oh my god," her voice is strained, "please, just... My ass... Oh..."
You have to bite back your laugh, simply because you can't help but find her so endearing. Her cheeks are flushed, and you know if you could see her face it would be bright red. Her hair is damp at the temples with sweat. You move your thumb in and out of her slowly.
"Please what, babe?" You ask.
She's burying her face into the marble; it’s a ridiculous thing to try, but this girl is so used to being face down in the bed that muscle memory kicks in when the brain goes to mush. "Don't make me say it."
You use your free hand to smack her ass, just once. She whimpers. "Say it."
"No!" She huffs. There's a moment of silence where you keep fucking her with your thumb. You hear her suck her teeth. Finally, she relents. "Eat my ass and make me cum. Please."
You let out a knowing laugh. "Good girl."
You're not sure what you enjoy more: making her cum or making her beg. You lean in again - another taste. Her back arches beautifully. Your cock is aching. You work your mouth against her over and over.
You press your middle finger against her cunt, sliding it inside with no resistance. She's gripping it as her wetness leaks down your hand. The moans are getting out of control, her body shuddering and jerking. You feel her tighten around your finger.
"Already?" you ask, and she does not like that.
Asa pushes her face up and off the counter, her whole body trembling. "You're just... fucking good."
That makes you grin. You press your finger deeper, curling it in her, and she's practically screeching now, and despite the description, it’s a blessing to hear. You keep your mouth buried against her asshole, fucking her with your finger, picking up speed. Your cock is straining in your pants, your balls aching. You can't wait to slide your dick into her, which is utterly relatable.
"Oh my god," she's panting hard, her fingers straining where she grips the counter, "oh my god, oh my god... Yes, right there, right fucking there! Don't stop, don't stop..."
It's when she starts cumming that you start lapping up all the cream, sucking her into your mouth. Her pussy is pulsing around your finger. You hear her hit the counter with a dull thud, and it's followed by her hitting her open palm against it repeatedly.
"So good," her voice is a breathy whine, "so, so good."
You keep moving your finger inside her until the fluttering stops, her whole body relaxing into the counter. You pull back and look at the mess you've made. A sheen of sweat on her skin. Her cheeks red from the way you've so roughly spread them.
"Happy birthday to me," you say, as you unbutton your pants.
There's a little chuckle from Asa. She turns her head, her eyes slightly glazed. "That good, huh?"
"You have no idea," you take your cock out, sighing with relief, "can't wait to sink into you."
"So, what exactly is this?" It's a valid question from Yuri, you weren't entirely transparent about your intentions. Yena said she was prototyping her guitar, that it was 'electrifying' and 'mindblowingly orgasmic'
So Yuri, fairly or unfairly assumed that was about music.
Technically, she's not wrong.
However, in practice. Yena is synced up to a device that can only be described as a bondage lover's wet dream. Wire's everywhere, some coiled to her thighs, some dangling off her chest. A lot pooling to almost make a tailor-made dress.
"It's one of our new inventions." Yena remarks casually, like there's not a dildo that can self-thrust next to both her pussy and her tight ass. Like there's no vibrating clamps that gently hug her nipples. You have the guitar in your hands, though you'll definitely pass it to Yuri in a little while. Need an unbiased tester, make sure it works fine.
"Last time you told me about your inventions you were making fuel-powered bouncy balls. What even happened?"
"We wanted to pay bills, this is our latest idea." You interject. "It works about as simply as you can expect. Each of these four buttons resonate with another. You play any song you know and see how the woman reacts."
"Show her practically, come on." Yena sighs, you are down. You click the first button, the clamp on her left nipple starts to vibrate, squeeze slightly– gets a short gasp out of Yena. Same for the second just for the right side.
The third one is more interesting, you only do short presses first– make sure to not overwhelm. The toy pushes deeper into her pussy, sits inside until you make it move. This is designed to be easy to use, hard to master. Replayability that can get even the most diehard of rhythm players to get invested.
It's a very specific niche your targeting, rhythm players good enough to do well that also have a partner. Eh, it'll reflect in the mark up.
"Come around." You point, Yuri follows and looks at Yena from behind. You click the last button and it pushes deep inside Yena's asshole, you push it a bit further. Then she stands there filled to the brim.
"Right, I still don't know why you needed me to be here? Me and Yena are close, don't get me wrong. But this is–"
"Oh shut up, before I met him you had your tongue in me every other night. We are definitely that close." Yena cuts through Yuri's lies, she's red as a tomato and doesn't say anything more.
"We need an unbiased participant who doesn't know it inside and out, you are that person." It's a simple exchange, you'll buy her a nice meal for this.
"Okay, sure, fine. Show me it." You've already started, but there's a few other cool features you can't wait to show in more detail. Then, your television screen turns on. (thanks to a hidden button in the frame, otherwise it'd ruin the IMMERSION!)
"We've made it so this guitar can work on all forms of rhythm software. We'll use Fortnite Festival for this because we have it installed." You swap to a song, you need to pick one that's not too hard, not too easy. A perfect highlight, you pick a 7/7 on bass. Should be easy enough.
Here goes nothing.
The music starts to play, though what song is hardly relevant. What matters is Yena braces herself for the first set of notes, though no matter how hard she braces. It still catches her off guard, hitting all four notes at once. Multiple times, the two dildos fucking her holes as her nipples get tormented.
"Ah, fuck!" Yena's caught caught in pleasure, Yuri's blushing. Her friend's got 14 inches (divided by two obviously) inside her and they are drilling her while the person causing it is just strumming a few cords. That's normally a metaphor, but these two inventors be doing stuff differently apparently.
"As you can see, it's quite intense." You lull, hitting your keys to the beat of the music. You can hear the slick noises of her pussy getting thoroughly fucked cutting through the rest of the noise.
"Y-yeah, I–" Yuri is rubbing her legs together, looking up towards the sky as if focusing on Yena is going to make her lose her mind. Her body's sweating under pressure, hands gripping her thighs to avoid them going anywhere else. "It's something."
"Ngh, fuck! Yuri, touch yourself for me– please!" That came out of nowhere, the machine must be have sparkled something. "I don't care he's watching, come on! Please–"
"What?!"
"You don't have to–" You start, your voice trails off because a particularly hard section comes up. Forcing your entire attention, it reflects in Yena's moans. Hits a crescendo that lasts for a solid half-minute.
"Ignore him, do it, let me see your pretty pussy again! It's been so–long!"
Yuri's between a rock and soft place, this wasn't in your initial testing plans but errant data should probably be considered. In the event they got a three player rotation, someone touching themselves is standard, expected.
You just never designed this for three people.
Fool's mistake and in this case, you're the fool. Yena's on cloud fuck knows and therefore doesn't have time to worry about all that. But back to Yuri's ultimatum, surely with the way she shouted what she'd be thinking about it still ri–
Oh, she's wearing less clothes than before.
Hm, oh well.
The problem with your technology you are realising now is you can not focus on your test-partner being so overwhelmingly aroused that her arousal is being launched into the floor. Nor can you focus on her situationship best friend heeding her commands. Hastefully kicking herself out of her shorts and underwear simply and efficiently. Put blandly, your peripherals are doing quadruple overtime.
A few more seconds, the song will be over. But this is the most ridiculous section for Yena, a bunch of hold notes. When the buttons are held the machines work at peak efficiency, fucking the soul out of her. "Oh my, my, fuck– yes, fuck!" Her orgasm hits right at the finish of song, and it's explosive. Spurts of squirt painting a new pattern in your favourite towel.
You play an imaginary song, fuck her insane ass (You'd know, it hugs you like the warmest kindling of affection.) with chords to ride her through it. Then perhaps the most annoying thing happens.
Your frame snaps, the thing keeping Yena from falling over ages ago breaks in two and unsurprisingly she slips. Right between Yuri's legs, face first into her box tongue first. Yuri is quite to take advantage of such a perfectly shown moment of chance, grinds her slit against Yena's pretty face. She quickly sticks her tongue out, devouring her friend while you stand there and savour such a moment.
"Yena! Eating me out so, god, damn well!" The machine is still mostly plugged into Yena, so you do Yuri a favour. Pushing a few buttons that make the girl moan straight into her– resonating within her core. "Don't stop!"
Muffled moans fill the room as you continue to pleasure Yena, pumping the machine's dildo in and out much slower now. Just a consistent rhythm enough to mess with her brain, overwhelming without shutting her down. You need the data. Whatever is salvageable out of this. You stand there bricked up like a virgins first time seeing tits, rubbing yourself through your clothes.
Yuri's moans are ridiculous, hits the walls and bounces back twice as fucking loud. Then you think, you need more data… someone who hasn't been responsible in the design process. "Yuri, say– would you like a turn?"
She looks shocked, but Yena pulls herself away to breathe. "Yeah, you trust my creation right?" No, she definitely didn't. It snapped in front of you. "I'll hold you up."
"Okay, I trust you, for once." Yuri's words brought you two great joy, helping Yena out of the machine and slowly putting Yuri in. Lubing up her tight rim, giving it a finger while Yena gave it two. Working together to make sure she could handle this, proper procedure. (proper bla bla you get the idea by now surely.)
Couple minutes later and it's all set up, Yena holding Yuri up by the armpits to ensure she doesn't replicate her fall over incident. "Ready?"
"I guess?" Yuri is not nearly as assured as Yena was, after seeing the mess that was just made and getting herself ate out though she is far too horny to think logically about this. You pick a song that honestly you just like, Fantasia For The Witch's Hound.
"Don't let her go, I don't know how concussions and orgasms mix." You warn, however Yena is gripping onto her harder than she grips around you so it'll be all gucci. " Here goes nothing.
You start, and this song is absolutely nothing compared to the last one– difficulty erect and ready to go right off the get go. Triple click every note in rapid motion, she's already had her warm up. Shaking and struggling in Yena's grasp, who is doing her divine duty as best she can. Going above and beyond as well– kissing Yuri's neck like it's a fine treasure, letting her teeth scratch against the soft skin.
"Ngh, Yena! This is so over–" It's hard to articulate the beauty of the situation, maybe you've struck gold with this. Market it as a swinger's party device, make millions. While your salivating over potential profit (pp for short) Yuri is salivating at the pressure, crotches stained with both of their arousal intermingled as one slick layer.
"Overkill? Overwhelming? Overtastic?" Yena breaks the rules further, rubbing her clit feverishly, giving Yuri the time of her life. "Take my cocks, fucking you– like old times sake. Cum all around them!" You are the voyeur to time long past and only now you get an idea.
What if you just, stood to the left? So they are directly in your line of sight? Incredible.
"Okay!" Yuri takes Yena like the good girl she clearly is. "So, fucking full!" You stop playing the song, hold down every button to overwhelm the girl. She loses control, taking no time at all to reach orgasm. Gushing so hard it saturates your machine in shiny girlcum.
Yuri gets gently removed from the contraption, you'll clean it later. The second you put the guitar down Yena has a lustful gaze, eyes looking very hungry. "You haven't came."
"Well yeah, the prototype isn’t suited for penises currently–"
"Shut up, you know what I meant. Drop your clothes and come fuck us." She spoke for Yuri, though she seems just as down for it. A threesome with your innovator and her friend? Well that's the best idea since this guitar.
Tags: smut, heavy angst, arguments, meta-narrative, igenuinelyshedatearwritingthis, grownassmanbtw, not an easy read.
13k words
Part 2 of Wings, were made to fly
Best consumed on fanprose
Everything is still in the house. Too still. The dishes are done. Neatly, stacked in the dishwasher, gently trickling water. The dining table, a glass panel with see-through history, work documents piled neatly on one side, hugging the wall.
The house is a chamber. Windows seldom opened, doors rarely ajar. Agreed on, by both inhabitants, because creating openings in the capsule means letting dust, the ugly, in, letting it settle.
Everything’s clean. Nearly spotless. The marble floors have been mopped. The clothes in the laundry aired to dry. The walls are all in this sanitary, pure white and silver, like a single speck of dust would be nigh impossible in this expanse-
“I fucking hate you.”
From the bedroom, the girl, Eunchae, storms out, head in hands, her steps quick but aimless. On closer inspection, her simple oversized tee is the same shade of purity that’s plastered all over the walls, her hair in a smooth, wavy curtain like she just got it done.
Behind her, you trail, near lazy, like you’re used to the words, simple black joggers and simple black shirt, clean as the rest of her, as the rest of the house.
“Get the fuck back here.”
“Fuck you!”
“Hey!”
Bang.
“It’s always this shit with you! All the time. It never fucking ends, never fixes itself like it’s supposed to-”
“And you think that this is all on me?”
“Some part of it is you, at least admit that, you fucking prick.”
Bang. Bang.
“I’m sick of your shit, Eunchae.”
“Yeah? Are you? You’re going to fuck off now, are you? Call it quits for real?”
You click your tongue. You try to steady your breathing. Stay calm. Stay calm. Her words are blunt. Blunt and rude, blunt because they aren’t sharp. That’s what you’ve been reminding yourself every day, right?
“Let’s stop dodging the issue here.”
Eunchae spins to face you, her face frosty, her cheeks flushed. She looks almost drunk.
“And again with that. Don’t you feel repetitive, always flipping things back on me with that shit? What are you, a robot? Recorder? Metronome?”
“Stop trying to get a rise out of me! This is pointless!”
“Is it? Everything that doesn’t help you get your way is pointless? We’re only allowed to follow the plot you’ve made for us, is that it?”
“No!” You say, finding this whole thing ridiculous, “The fuck? All you have to do is listen to reason! Where is this taking us? Back to the same old shit we’ve always been doing.”
Eunchae’s mouth opens like she’s choking back a laugh, struggling from spitting it right into your face.
“News flash, dipshit,” Eunchae shakes, “everything we’re doing right now is a repeat. Like a stupid fucking sitcom. And you’re the fucking star, assface!”
You roar. “Don’t yell at me!”
The house echoes your ferocity- literally. When the two of you were shallower, in earlier days, she’d take an unconscious step back, an instinct upon your voice reaching this decibel. But now? Her hide’s grown thicker, which means all she does is raise an eyebrow in that particularly annoying way, the one that gets under your skin. Her lips flat. She looks like she’s about to kick you in the balls. And fuck it, the ethics. You wanna throw hands.
You swear, the amount of effort required to prevent you from going full on ballistic has popped several veins in your skull. You know how it looks, played this little finicky game before, with the bloody mirror in view as well.
You redden, purple up, and it takes a hot second before the natural complexion of your face returns. And, pathetically, it’s only then you note your balled fists. You hate it. You don’t like this look, a sentiment shared by your partner. Anger doesn’t get you anywhere.
You drop your tone. Drop everything. She’s just another person. She can’t touch you. All she’s saying are meaningless words. You’re better than this. Than her.
Your next words are sanitised, hands slipped back in your pockets like you don’t give a damn. “We need to start talking like normal human beings.”
Eunchae’s tone follows yours, no longer shrill screech. “And how’s that been working for you? Do the results look satisfactory?”
Her eyes cast to the room around you, like she’s coaxing you to take a look at everything yourself.
Hell, she makes things so difficult.
“We at least get somewhere when we aren’t screaming bloody murder.”
Her reply is scathingly quick. Like repeats turned ad hominem.
“There’s no need to stabilise your driving when you’re on a roundabout with no exit,” Eunchae bites. “Like you always like to say, pointless.”
You snap. “God, fuck. Eunchae, please. For fucks sake! Fucking please!”
Lord knows you’re fucking trying, hands in your hair, wincing and all. Eunchae turns her head to the side, like she’s ignoring you. The truth is, she doesn’t want to let it get to her. You power on, because there’s gotta be goddamn light at the end of this goddamn tunnel.
“We need to settle this issue. And we do that with talking. Not with this… infighting.”
“We need to settle this issue… again.”
You take a breath. “Yes. Again.”
Eunchae levels her eyes on yours. Her arms are crossed, not because she’s angry, but because it’s protective. Protective of all the skin of her arms she has pinched between fingers. “Fine. I’ll make my argument simple. There is no solving this. We’re just wasting our breath.”
“So we should just let this fucking horseshit continue?”
This time Eunchae makes a sound of annoyance. She shifts her weight to her other foot.
“Why do you like that word so much, anyway?”
“Huh?” You furrow your brow, “What? The word ‘fuck’? It’s just a word.”
“Just a word. That’s all that’s ever meant to you, hasn’t it? Just a word. And anyone that doesn’t subscribe to that notion is stupid trash.”
You have no idea what she’s getting at. You’ve been using that word since forever. She uses that word. But you don’t snort. You resist the urge to make any sound that suggests belittlement, any words to betray how it’s raining down upon you. Control. Control.
“Fine. I won’t use that word. Remove the profanity. Whatever. Happy?”
“Really?” Eunchae replies, “What a surprise. Should I be honoured?”
“What is your problem?” Everything that comes out of her mouth seems poised to spite you. Unnecessarily so.
“My problem, dipshit, is your stupid need to level everything to your playing field. It’s absurd. Injust. You’re in control, always.”
“Always? I’m puppeteering your life, am I?”
“You may as well be,” Eunchae says matter-of-factly, “We play by your rules, don’t we? We stop the yelling, talk things out, communicate like we’re in a debate club. Somewhere where you can use your stupid, verbose bullshit to outweasel yourself from being in the wrong.”
You stare. “Are you serious? You think conversing like normal human beings, respectfully and peacefully, is a shit way to resolve our arguments? Even when we descend into playground insults and verbal fuc… warfare? Is this not a logical solution?”
“So nothing else matters, does it? Just the right way to do things? The cold hard facts?”
What is she talking about? “What are you talking about?”
Eunchae scoffs, not even bothering to hide it. The pad of her thumb rubs at her eyes, and it stings, but you’ve gotten used to it. Because this happens every time. And you’re not sure when this bled into normalcy.
“Forget it.”
“What?”
She doesn’t reply. Her lower lip shakes. Your hands are in the space, grasping for something, whole body shaking and shuddering with all the effort you’re putting in to just reach.
“Eunchae, talk to me. What’s all this? What are you on about? We can’t even communicate right now.”
“Of course we can’t!” Eunchae screams, and you can’t even fake your surprise, eyes widening, caught in a moment where nothing makes any logical sense-
“You’re not listening! You never do!”
“Huh?” You say, flabbergasted. Preposterous. You’ve done nothing but try to listen.
“I don’t care anymore. Get the fuck out of my house.”
“Your house?” Your voice rises. Shit. Tone it down. “We bought this place together. Even split. Fifty-fifty.”
Your resist the urge to add, the fuck you mean your house?
“Then draw a line! I’ll stay behind my fifty percent. Just leave me the fuck alone!”
“Eunchae,” you slap a hand to your forehead, “You’re going to run from this? Again?”
“I don’t care! You win! I give up, give in. Whatever you’re going to say, you’re right!”
“Eunchae!” You shout. Fuck it. You need to get her to listen somehow. She’s not receptive to anything right now. You’ll apologise later.
Probably.
“Work with me here! I’m trying my best to talk to you. We can’t keep running away from our problems. They don’t just magically disappear.”
“Don’t they?” Eunchae retorts. She’s forsaken the urge to rub her tears away, to give a crap about the trails down her face and falling off her chin. “Isn’t that how it always goes? We talk, we agree on something. You dictate what I say. Sure. Happy for a couple of days. Otherwise, we take a break. A week where we start over from zero. We kiss, have awesome make up sex, and everything’s forgotten, isn’t it? Pause, incident, pause?”
You don’t retort. You can’t. It’s true, regardless of how wrong it is. That’s how it is. That’s how it always has been. Putting it brutally, the two of you discard each other when shit hits the fan. The attraction is fleeting. Intermittent. Hell. Like… disease.
It takes a moment for you to realise Eunchae’s already stalked away, moving past you. She defeats you, in that moment. You’re still staring at the same spot, because you’re not sure you believe what’s happening right now.
“So we’re just going to let this go?”
“Just tell me what you want from me and I’ll do it,” Eunchae mutters, her voice soft, lost.
This isn’t victory. Not for you, not really. This is a resignation. There was no fight here. There’s no cause for celebration. All Eunchae did was just roll onto her back and tell you to get on with it.
You walk out. Grab the keys, slip into slippers. Anywhere. Anywhere but here. Clear your head, get some space, whatever. You have no idea what to do. Whether to move forward, or to hang back.
Eunchae sits by the dining table, motionless. She’s another piece of the furniture. Pure, clean. Whatever to distract from what this all is. Does it make sense? Pfft, no. Of course not. Does it hurt?
Eunchae hangs her head in her hands and cries.
____
In another instance, maybe, just maybe, things play out differently.
If the rules of the world weren’t written this way. If everyone said, hey, okay, do your thing. It’s your little corner of the world, I won’t intrude. A world free from judgement maybe. Maybe.
It’s like this, see. You try to play things properly, really. You put all the extra little thoughts in. Maybe too many at times. You act, no, play, no, am the perfect boyfriend, to the best of your abilities. On judgement day, you should at the very minimum be tilted to the correct side, wholly because of your own actions.
Things are happy at the beginning, romantic. You wipe the ice cream off her lips. She giggles. The Han river. Noodles and fried chicken. Spicy bokkeumbap. Yeah, things like that.
For a good while, a very good while, you’re happy. Content. She’s support in your fragile little world, and things are great. The two of you push deeper, wading into the marsh, not looking back. Hell, not even looking forward. Looking at each other.
And that’s the moment. Right there. Pause the video. Zoom in. Right fucking there. Take out your notebook.
See, at first you think it’s a joke. Horror stories concocted by your mother told to her friends whenever they come over for dinner and girls’ night. About how cohabitation is a test. A real make or break. About how getting closer means getting further apart. And other nonsensical horseshit.
Taking a step forward, but forward’s the wrong direction. Like bringing this person in means the end for everything else. And look, you’re smarter than this. Smart enough to know not to fuck this up. And to know how not to either.
But the house is a warzone. One that deceives you at first. You enter, weapons lowered, taking in the scenery. Oh, those are some nice flowers. Put them by the side. Look at the paths! They sparkle.
And then you realise the whole fucking place is laced with land mines. Kablooey.
And hell, why do things keep escalating? You’re not on an escalator, you’re not playing a roguelike videogame. What’s this, Tetris? Putting the blocks and pieces into place speedily without fucking up the arrangement?
The first time was bad, sure. Eunchae’s tired of always having to bring your clothes to the laundry room, always having to make the bed in the morning. She just wants things to be neater, nicer.
So you explain how it seems ridiculous to you that she believes a laundry trip is mandatory once a day, considering that two people times two outfits is at most fourteen articles of clothing, a day. Which doesn’t even fill up the machine you bought halfway.
She calls it unhygienic. You call it uneconomical.
It gets heated. Stupidly so. It’s the first time you find yourself genuinely angry with her, and you don’t know why. She cries, and it’s the first time that she’s ever done that in front of you. So you panic.
Fine, you give in. Compromise. You’ll even dump the clothes in the washer for her.
That pisses her off. Because she doesn’t want to just win. It’s never been about the victory in battle for either of you. It’s about the war. She needs to make you understand. And agree that she’s right.
But it doesn’t make sense.
Over time, things change. It’s less emotional turmoil and more brokering, a painful game of sorts. But instead of decapitated heads rolling it’s simply layers unraveling in front of you like unbundled canvas. And the picture it paints, not pretty.
You make deals. Bargain your way to allow you to drag her to your side. Barter trade.
Bring your weapons to the table: Cold hard logic against metaphysical morality. Raise them up and fight.
And after, the two of you have peace. Come back together. Like Frankenstein; your bodies meld. Heat, passion, till your eyes roll back into your skulls. It feels better that way, raw and unprotected, vulnerable after so many hits.
Then your hearts. Stitched together. Smiles. What were we even arguing about? It feels so stupid now. Love blooms, because love is like most flowers. Seasonal.
And the two of you let the festering problem reach further, hold tighter.
——
Your feet are light on the pavement. Coffee. Need coffee. Starbucks will do. A roadside coffee shop will do. Anything will do.
Clangle. Past the Christmas decoration, past the little lights.
The barista is sweet, serene, adorned with an elf hat. She’s pleasant, taking your order with a gentle smile and a clear lack of care for anything in her immediate surroundings.
So coffee takes a while. And she kind of puts too much sugar in it. But whatever. That won’t be enough to ruin your day.
Sweet is the season. Your right hand, clasped around the bag, the bag containing the artificial softness you didn’t really bother to wrap up. Whatever. She’s going to love it.
You shift in your brown wool jacket. No time to waste.
She’s already got everything set up, of course. The treats, the tree, the candles. She’s got a Santa hat on, a Santa-red dress. Her face lights up when you toss your bag over like you’re going to bludgeon her and bash her head into a pulp.
“Hey babe!” She laughs, hands sinking into the softness of the puffy toy through its protective plastic layer.
“Eun-ah, you’ve done so much. It looks so good!”
You reach over to try to kiss her, but the sheer size of the soft toy provides some resistance. The two of you laugh, but meet anyway, your mouth over hers, dominating the kiss.
“Cute dress,” you smirk.
“Thank you,” Eunchae gives a little bow, swaying from side to side.
“Can’t wait to peel it off.”
“Pervert!”
You laugh.
“At least let me have dinner first! There’s always only one thing you want on your menu, isn’t there?”
“It’s the only food I need,” you reply, twirling your finger in the air like you’re summoning a spell. “I’m a repeat customer.”
“Well, you’re going to have to wait. Until after we get some actual food in both of our bellies.”
“Ever heard of the term, start with dessert?” You toss the pondering question over. Eunchae hits you with her Christmas gift.
“I told you. Wait. I have more in store for you. You haven’t even gotten to the best part yet!”
—-
Coffee. Coffee. How it clears the mind. Rids the fog, some would say.
You sip slowly. The drink has long gone cold by now, but you’ve been nursing it. Resisting. Taking as long as you possibly can.
Through the glass panel of the kitchen, where you can watch Eunchae. Watch as she moves quickly, rapidly. Ruthlessly efficient are her hands. She does her work. Fingers a blur. She does the laundry. Quick are her steps. Routine. Routine.
Your eyes watch her. Unmoving. A provocation. Seeing when she reacts. Your mind? Cycling a million possible retorts to cook her like a well done steak the moment she opens her mouth.
“Stop looking at me,” she says, obvious with her anger.
“You want me to leave?” You reply, as if one long walk wasn’t enough.
“Do whatever you like. But give me some privacy. Stop looking at me like I owe you rent. It’s unnerving.”
You take another sip. Mug’s empty. “What is?”
“You looking at me. I don’t like it. The more you look at me the closer you get. The more I have to deal with your bullshit. Go away.”
She stacks another one of her shirts on top of the pile, before grabbing the entire folded tower and hurrying off to the bedroom. Like she has anything else to do.
You wash the mug. Place it back on the drying rack the way you know she likes. Your cup kissing hers. You follow.
“So we’re really going to do this?” You say softly. All traces of irritation, anger are gone, replaced by a droning monotone disconnected from emotional appeal. She won’t get to you now, because you won’t allow it.
Eunchae ignores you. The clothes go back into the drawers. Neatly, neatly. Scented with detergent you both agreed to use to clean. Like a promise to blend.
“We’re just going to avoid this, again. For another week. Maybe two. Then we’ll remember to start talking.”
She just packs.
“You don’t give a shit about us.”
“And you’re saying you do?” Eunchae looks up at you defiantly from her kneeling position. She opens the next drawer, turning back not even a second later.
“Clearly, I do. I’m the only one actively trying to solve the issue here.”
“There’s no issue between us.”
“There is an issue.” you say pointedly.
“No there isn’t. Not one either of us can solve, evidently.”
“Do you want things to improve?”
“In this snail race?”
“Eunchae.”
“What? Go do your thing. Your little distancing routine. Go out. Have a drink. Chat with your buddies. Pretend to check out that chick at the bar. And come back in a couple weeks when you want to fuck me again.”
You sigh. You’re not even irked at that. It’s all so… desensitised. You’re tired. “We have to at least try, babe.”
Eunchae tenses unnaturally. Was it the word? Or everything else? She stands up, making a means to move, but you’re in the doorway.
“Excuse me.”
You don’t budge.
“Excuse me, please.”
“Don’t run away from this.”
“It’s not about how fast I can fucking get away from you, mister. It’s about how quickly you’ll catch me.”
She’s moved up right into your personal space, fearless in a certain sense, but her eyes don’t meet yours. You’re a barrier, and nothing else. Her eyes are motioning to move past. And you feel it’s all grossly unfair.
Is there anything to say that could change the current predicament? Any way to reason yourself out of this one? One that anyone could understand?
Finally, after a few moments, when Eunchae realises you’ve gone still, she looks up. She’s not daunted by the proximity, not affected by the look in your eyes.
Her eyes, still red like they’ve been rubbed raw. Her lips are slightly swollen, like you’ve been kissing her too much. She looks so much like something that needs protection. And you’re not impervious like you’ve been telling the world. Everything begs you to hold on.
“What, you want to fuck me already?”
You blink. “I thought you didn’t like that word?”
“Yeah, but you love it, don’t you? You love that word, and all the things that come with it. It’s all you want to do, all you want to hear, right? Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck me!”
“Eunchae!” You say, scandalised. Like you’re scandalised.
“Isn’t that all you want? My body? That’s what keeps you running back, right? You only give a fuck about my body.”
You pop. Zero to a hundred. It’s not true. It’s a blatant lie. It’s everything to rouse you. And what she insinuates, you detest it.
“Yeah, you’re right,” you spit, “I do.”
You repeat the lie, because a part of you knows she hates this just as much as you do, all these naysayers with their opinions on what the two of you can be, will be, should be. Your hand seizes her wrist, bringing the two of you closer like you’re about to kiss her I love you.
“You’re right, Eunchae. That’s all I give a shit about. You. Your body. That’s what you want to hear me say, right? That you’re just a warm body I can use by my bed, a convenient way for me to drain my balls.”
Eunchae’s eyes darken. Magic, the way they manage to switch up like this. Like she wants to eviscerate you with a trebuchet.
“Fuck you.”
You let her pass, because you can’t stand to look any longer. You shouldn’t let her go, but you feel like screaming at the walls.
You’re wrong. You mean so much more to me.
But they’ll never see that.
——
“Hey, what do you think is wrong with us?”
You glance over at Eunchae from your seat at the glass table. Her figure’s sprawled out on the couch, her head cast skyward like she’s stargazing through the ceiling.
“Wrong with us?”
If she nods, it’s imperceptible. But you heard right.
You turn to your hands, on the table, fingers outstretched and flat on the cool glass, back when they didn’t yet learn to curl into fists. The house smells like human petrichor, mixed in with that suffocating smell of sanitizer, of appearances.
“I think it’s about what’s wrong with me, isn’t it?”
Eunchae frowns. “No. I’m a part of it too. It takes two hands to clap.”
“Does it really though?” You reply, “Besides. I have two on my own.”
Eunchae glances down to look at you. From this angle, with her feet facing you and her body resting comfortably, she looks cute. Her chubby cheeks on her small face. A squishy look.
“A part of it is me. At the very least. We’re both guilty here. That’s why we keep crawling back to each other, unable to call it quits.”
“I mean, hasn’t this gone on for long enough? Why are we still torturing ourselves like this, like a pair of obnoxious siblings stuck under the same roof? Why can’t we just call it quits?”
“...I don’t know,” you say finally. And even if you did have the right answer, the one that solves all of this, would it matter?
Fundamentally you know, there’s something wrong with all of this. There’s these things called rules, or whatever, lines drawn in the sand you’re supposed to abide by. Wards, fences, walls, signs all pointing in the opposite direction. Don’t do that. Don’t follow your heart. Not to her, young and pliable.
You slowly pick yourself up from the chair, and Eunchae watches closely as you cross over. She doesn’t say a word, doesn’t move a muscle. Her eyes just hold on to you, tracking your movements till you’re kneeled, on one knee, by her head.
Quiet. A moment for the two of you. Just the two of you. You watch her, and she watches you. Her gaze is pensive, pliant, waiting for your next move.
You reach over to give her a kiss on the lips. One that you give all the time, but the kind she never gets tired of. When you pull away from her delicate softness, the hints of a smile grace her cheeks. You rub her head for a couple gentle moments. Hopeful ones.
And then you get up and start moving again, Eunchae watching you gently as you start busying yourself with life.
—
Eunchae never throws anything, in all her rage. Then again, neither do you.
In fact, the house is often so spotless, so incredibly untarnished, that simply by appearances the two of you seem to be living a perfect life.
—
One more check. A whiff of your collar, a straightening of your cuffs. Things have still been in an uncomfortable flux, but just because the two of you currently hate each other doesn’t mean you’re going to miss out on important obligations. The tickets to her rehearsal are still there. You’re not going to just not go.
A quick glance in the mirror, which reveals that you look tired, tired from fighting and leaving and being hollow, from avoiding.
Combat between two urges, one that declares that things should be over, and the other that yields to the idea that you need her back by your side, that you miss her warmth.
Fight it out.
Eunchae took the car; You grab an umbrella just in case and start to make your way over, in your navy suit and brown oxfords. You look good, a guy that’s clearly out for a date, some attractive looking event, and you cycle through the million things you’re about to say.
And you think to yourself, the funny thing is this. Adjacent to Murphy’s law, nothing that anyone thinks will actually happen does happen. There’s always that additional layer, that extra hurdle life throws on the track that catches one off guard, that derails, that can’t be prepared for even with a million years of careful consideration.
So you choose to eliminate as many bad options as possible by trying to think of them first. Get rid of all the worst ways this night could go. Scrap the breakup story. Scrap the messed up performance. Scrap the why did you come? I didn’t want to see you here.
And ironically, try not to think of all the good endings.
Her dress is red, for some reason. Like a Chinese ornament, or something. Hair done up, in a singular, smooth ponytail, a plume that rests gently behind her. And the thing is, she knows your seat, she gave you the damn tickets after all, so she knows immediately once the stage lights cast down on her that you’re here.
Her back straightens. She almost smiles. Almost. A quick bow and she turns to the keys, sitting with her feet tucked together.
She looks good. Nothing like the clipped seraphim she was every day of the past week. Her makeup conceals it all, brings out her eyes, always bright, spotlights in the dark.
She tests the keys, the same little pattern you’ve heard time and time again, at home, at her practices, at her performances. You close your eyes for a moment. You always prepare yourself mentally before her performances. She has her routine. And you have yours.
One. Two. Three.
Eunchae starts to play. The tune wafts in, gentle, romantic. She strikes each key with certainty, precision.
She eats it up right from the start. Her fingers, soft and slow at first, pressing gently when she knows the audience is focusing more on her than the tune. When the music overwhelms, when they start to give in to the message, they speed up, become a blur, tapping notes in succession.
The pieces she chose are good. They always are. And her skill goes without saying. The first song. A short break. A violinist comes on stage. And Eunchae accompanies his second piece.
Her eyes are mirthful. She doesn’t focus too hard on the notes, on the music sheet in front of her. Her fingers already have the song memorised. Her smile mirrors her playing, like she just forgets all about it and seeps into her notes. There’s not a tinge of sadness in her notes, like it never existed at all.
She doesn’t need to glance at you. She just needs to feel.
She gets one more piece. Brisk are her movements. A few people by your side, in the front row, take pictures.
You don’t know if you can live without her.
She comes down five minutes later than everyone else. And you’re not sure who needed to mentally prepare themselves more.
You stand in the first row, watching as all the other performers greet friends and family. All till a swish of red distracts you.
She walks purposefully, smiling and thanking as eyes fall on her. Her pace never falters. Swiftly, she reaches you. By your side.
Come on. You can’t even look slightly pissed if you tried. You smile, and she does as well, her chin dipping shyly.
“You-”
“Yeah. I came.”
Eunchae beams, her pearly whites showing for the first time in two weeks, and she turns away and does a little spin. The crowd parts naturally to give her room.
“How was it?”
“The performances? Great. The band was amazing.”
“But I was better?” Eunchae shifts her weight to her left foot, crossing her arms.
“You’d better be. Otherwise I’d be dating someone else right now.”
“Prick,” Eunchae shakes her head, “can’t you be nice and stop teasing for once?”
You chuckle. “You were amazing, babe. Gorgeous. As you always are. Everyone was transfixed.”
She glows. Everything feels better. No need for anymore words. The two of you communicate just like this. Her eyes glisten.
“Hey, none of that. You still need to receive all the praise and appreciation.”
Eunchae nods since she understands. She blinks a couple times, and they disappear. Later.
“I’m hungry. I’ll see you in a few minutes?”
“Go,” you nod. “I’ll wait for you in the car.”
Eunchae nods, the little angel, turning and leaving like a flare shot away from a flare gun, leaving your life. Others watch her go, then watch you, watching her leave.
You get it. And damn. There’s so much more.
In the car, you’re a shaking wreck. Everything feels wrong. Everything feels foolish.
And that’s even before Eunchae knocks on the windscreen, telling you to let her in. The lock clicks, and she surges in, grabbing a hold of your neck and kissing you hard.
Her lips meld to yours, mixing cherry lipstick with strawberry lips.
Your hands seized her shoulders, and each subsequent kiss deepens. It feels right, it feels good. Like she left, but dammit, she came back.
“Close the door,” you say between kisses, “the aircon is leaking out.”
She laughs, eyes wet, but does so anyway. She tucks herself neatly into the seat. And contact is broken. Just for a moment.
Because you’re pulling her in right after, again. And it’s a good while before the headlights of your car come on.
“I’m sorry,” Eunchae says first, the two of you on the highway. No, you don’t miss the details. Her hand clasped in yours. The other one fiddling with the hem of her dress, nervous like she’s been hurled back to her past, to your first date. The way she looks to the front because it hurts to look at you.
“We’re so stupid.”
“We’re not. Just… difficult.”
She laughs again. Weakly. Like she’s tired of it. Both of you are.
Your hand leaves hers for just a moment, so you can make a safe right turn onto the highway. And it comes back to rest on her thigh.
Her eyebrow perks up curiously, and you nonchalantly give her thin leg a squeeze. She shakes her head. She doesn’t even need to say it.
“I’m just telling you, this dress is a bitch and a half to take off. It’ll take like, ten minutes. And a lot more space than the interior of a car.”
You do your best to look disappointed, like that’s really the first thing on your mind. “Later then. What do you want to eat?”
And it’s strange, because food feels almost secondary. And it feels like it’s because nothing makes sense.
——
And look. The makeup sex is amazing.
Every time the two of you come back, it’s a couple days where the two of you can’t do anything else but tangle up in a mess of limbs and kisses.
It’s so good that in a messed up way it seems almost worth it to keep breaking apart, because returning feels consistent, probable.
The two of you stumble like drunken sailors all over the house, pulling and pushing each other around, gasping, moaning, groaning with round after round of mind boggling pleasure. That’s the only time things appear even a little messy. Her. You. Madness. Psychosis.
She becomes pliable, pudding, doing whatever you want and whatever you ask, loving it, making it feel like everything’s right with kisses down your cheek. A private moment for two, right?
“Let’s go out,” she says.
“When?”
—
“Get away from me!”
“No!” Eunchae screams. “You started this!”
You snort. “I started this? Me? When you literally just barged into the bedroom and screamed your head off?”
“You let it happen again! How did you let it happen again? What’s the point of saying things have changed, will change, if the same mistakes are going to happen again?”
“Things have been improving! I’ve been doing what you asked! Picking up the laundry. Cleaning the toilet. Waiting outside the office for an entire additional hour to pick you up! It’s been two months without incident. This was just a mistake. I was busy. It slipped my mind!”
“Of course! You were so busy you couldn’t remember to not let our house catch on fire? How do you nearly fuck up boiling water?”
“Just get one of those automatic ones that turn off by themselves! My boss dialed me with something important!”
“Made out of moneybags, are we?”
“Oh come on. It’s the simplest solution.”
“Well then, excuse me if I prefer using an item that’s not even spoiled rather than investing in a minor upgrade.”
“Then that’s your problem, isn’t it?”
“My problem? Yeah? Do I have to burn my fingers off the next time for you to get it?”
“The hell? That’s just being bitchy, Eunchae!”
“Fuck you! Can’t you not be such an unbelievable… pricklord?”
“…Okay, that’s just weak.”
“Fuck off! I should pour that kettle of hot water over your head!”
“Are you insane?”
“Maybe I am! God knows I’ve already lost my mind living here long enough. With you!”
“Yeah yeah, everything is me, isn’t it? I’m the problem here.”
“So you think you can pin everything on me instead?”
“That’s not what I said! I’m done with this.”
“Then leave! For good! Has no one grown a pair of balls in this house? I know I definitely haven’t, and the last time I checked, you’ve got enough for both of us! So be a man and move on from me!”
“So it’s on me to leave as well! You haven’t learnt to be an independent woman yet, is that it?”
“There is no independence here, under your charge.”
“Stop saying that!”
—
No, really. You should be the bigger man here. The actual man. The one you’re defined to be. Moving on is logical. This will pass, and so will she. Plenty of fish, in this sea.
—
You know what it looks like. This isn’t a Mexican standoff, poker table, an all-in gamble. There shouldn’t be this much trepidation on the fact that both of you are seated on opposite sides of the dining table for the first time in what feels like forever.
“The truth is we can’t understand each other.”
Eunchae doesn’t react for a moment, like the truth doesn’t faze her. Which makes sense. Because the words have always been written here. On the walls.
“We don’t agree on things. We don’t see eye to eye. We even… think differently.”
“Your point being?” Eunchae says, and you’ve never felt the coldness in her low tone before, but you do now.
“We don’t work. We don’t even have the same value system. What you think is right and what I think is right, they don’t align. It’s like being a shitty MBTI match. I’ve tried. You’ve tried. We do our best to carve a way out for both of us, but we never come out the other side. It’s starting to hurt the way I look at you. And I know it has affected the way you see me as well.”
“So I should go, then.”
“No,” you say immediately, like it hurts. “No. It’s just… it’s bad.”
“Get to the point.”
You look up into her eyes. Her tone is detached, no, lobotomised, and it’s completely foreign. But the look in her eyes is anything but. Exactly the same way as before. Bright, but dimming with each passing moment. Affected.
“I… I don’t know what to do.”
Eunchae stares. Then the tears burst from her eyes.
And you could say a million things about that moment. About how it hurts, how it feels wrong. About how afraid you are of each next passing second, unsure where this road is going, or if there’s any road at all.
Your heart knows. Your mind knows. Each sparkle down Eunchae’s cheeks knows. She bites her lips, redirecting the pain outward, into something she can feel. She sniffs.
“You should let me go.”
Your throat goes dry. The right thing is to agree, right? Let her lead a better life, you’d do that if you truly loved her. You had no right to keep her for so long anyway, or to keep her at all. So you should just say it. Everyone would be happier this way.
But. What’s stopping you?
Eunchae’s breath catches, half because she actually needs air when she’s dying like this, and half because she’s watching your own tears fall.
“I don’t want to. I really, really don’t want to. I don’t know why-”
“I don’t want to either.”
And you wish she didn’t say that. Because the truth is you love her. But that doesn’t matter, at least not anymore. Not here. Love is bullshit, disaster, the problem. The only thing that can’t be explained in any sort of rational manner-
“I still love you. So much.”
And Eunchae sobs. Loudly. Her eyes crush into this ugly shape, her teeth gritted like she’s in pain. And the truth is, the two of you should be sick of each other. The two of you should hate each other. By coexisting, logic states that the two of you aren’t a match. The two of you can’t even decide on dinner sometimes, for gods’ sakes.
She just says, I eat anything, even when the both of you know she has particular foods she doesn’t eat, and then you go I eat anything, because you actually do. And then the two of you just stand there, in the mall, waiting.
“We can’t keep going back,” Eunchae murmurs, rubbing at her eyes, her whole body trembling with each uncontrolled weep. And love, which is the sweetest pain, the most intense, it all just… seems so pointless. Why? Why couldn’t you have been different? Why are you still fighting for this? Eunchae’s next words make so much sense.
“All we’ve been doing is coming back to this moment. It’s a loop. We break, we fall. We come back. -hic- We never move on. You argue with yourself over and over again if you’re doing the right thing, like it matters to deny what’s in your heart.”
She sniffs again, and your hand shoots out to grab the tissue box by the end of the table. To drag it into the space between you two like a marker.
“...Should we just go?” You say, clearing your throat like you’ve been yelling for seven straight hours at a wall.
“I don’t know,” Eunchae admits, shoulders hunched, dabbing at her eyes with the tissue. She looks up with this sad smile, this look that tells you she can’t care any more about the consequences. “How could I ever know?”
She’s right. You’ve always known she’s right. You picked her because she’s always been right. Right in her own way. Just. The whites on the wall don’t need to peel for you to understand. There’s no need for a bell to signal the end of this ballad.
“I’d still try, you know? Over and over again. No matter how long it takes. Regardless of if it matters. If it changes anything.”
“At the very least, I’d still be with you. Even if it hurts. I don’t know if I know how to go.”
“I know you would,” Eunchae almost laughs, this unnaturally light sound in this sombre mood, “But it’s okay. We can move on. Pretend this never happened. Pretend you never had the urge to come to me, to take me, use me, communicate something in a way that matters. Pretend you never loved me.”
“It sucks,” Eunchae admits, “We could call it quits here, right now. And it’ll feel like we’ve dumped a pointless amount of something to get to nothing. And maybe in a few years you’ll really forget all about me, realise that this was all pointless. Move on to someone younger, prettier and better. And that’s just how life works. It allows you to fixate on all the right things, and you’ll just get rid of anything that’s even halfway difficult to approach.”
Eunchae sniffs again. Her tears have stopped, and this moment really does feel final. There’s nothing left to write.
“I should go,” you say.
You should go.
“The house,” she begins, turning to face the walls. Everything the two of you have taken shelter under, that’s been built together. Fifty-fifty. Even. Split.
“Keep it. It’s yours.” You say. The truth is, even the idea of retaining your share of everything feels like a black mark you won’t be able to erase. It’s best to just leave everything as it is. Cut yourself off completely. Remove yourself from any suspicion.
“This house was made because of you. It should be left to you.”
Eunchae nods, slowly at first, like she’d argue. But arguments now are… needless.
The two of you pack like a couple. An actual one. She just hands things over wordlessly, things that go neatly into the next part of your suitcase. Clothes are easy. Everything else is difficult. Because how do you find things that she hasn’t touched, hasn’t graced? How do you just… remove everything that’s been tormenting you for months?
And it’s the way the tears start again, because each layer you unpack is another thing, another stupid reminder of what the two of you blended and made. Eunchae sinks to the floor, cradling one of those predrawn artworks the two of you never got around to finish painting, and even you can’t find the strength to pick her back up. You called it stupid. She’d promise you it’d be finished in two weeks, together. Bought it last year. On holiday. You watch her. Face concealed, that wavy curtain of hair you always thought hid her beauty from the outside world now looks like refuge, the last thing stopping her.
“I don’t want you to go.”
It’s soft. But genuine.
You zip up your suitcase. “I’ll see myself out.”
You declare it like she doesn’t trail behind you anyway, white following black, all the way to the door.
“It’s… for real this time,” you say, exhausted. This has been a long time coming. Eunchae nods, like she agrees, her eyes still staring straight at the center of your body. Maybe she can see your heart. But she probably can’t. Because otherwise she probably would have stopped you by now.
“... goodbye?” Eunchae says slowly.
And you look past her, at the house. The room. Everything that’s still there, that Eunchae will slowly have to filter out, toss away. And you almost smile. Maybe a part of you will still be here, even though it doesn’t matter. You won’t forget, will you? This should feel important.
The house still smells like her. You wonder how long it’ll take her to get rid of your scent.
“Bye.”
And the important thing here is not how you leave, turning away, letting the door close on you without support, without either of you having a hand on the handles, but the way she reacts. Because you might not goddamn see it, but it’s everything that’s happening behind the door, the thing you can only imagine is happening, that really gets you.
How she slumps against the door, forehead first, then sinks. The way she has to curl up against it, a ball of ashy hair, her nails scratching at her lower lip, eyes empty.
The way her fingers still find a way to scratch at the wooden front door, like you’re on the other side, and she’s the one waiting for you to open up and let her inside.
And your feet still haven’t left the dais.
Does it matter? Is everyone right? Is this lie of pretending she doesn’t exist, like she isn’t right fucking there, is this the best thing us as human beings could come up with?
Should you give a fuck? Don’t we pride ourselves on freedom of expression? If this fucked up way of constantly thinking about her, constantly coming back to her is wrong? Then what isn’t?
Desecration. Humiliation. The she knows or she doesn’t. Innocence and youth and the you shouldn’t do her like this, like everything’s true in your heart is false because it cannot be seen. Anguish.
The door clicks.
Eunchae stumbles away from the door, eyes widening like gold is falling from the sky. She barely gets a foot away before it swings open, and you’re quick, rushed.
You grab her by the scruff of her neck, pulling her up, tossing your luggage to the side. You don’t care if the handle cracks the marble.
And yeah, it looks like a fight. And it is a fight. A fight to protect the one goddamn thing you love.
Your lips find Eunchae’s. She’s pretty, all with her rosy lips and panicked gasps, but the kiss is anything but.
You press hard. Your fingers go to her hair, her neck, pulling her in. Her nails curl against your thin tee like she’ll scratch your heart out.
It takes a moment for you to realise she’s crying. Wait no, you are. What does it matter?
You pull apart for a fraction of a second, so you can realign yourself and kiss her again. She cries directly into your mouth, and it’s a rough pound against your chest that finally separates the two of you.
“Why?” She croaks, your lips stained with the salt of her pain, “you were supposed to leave. You had to leave! Now we’ll just go back into that same rhythm again!”
You don’t reply, just pull her in again. And yeah, she goes powerless. She kisses you back, harder than you thought possible, her fingers tugging hard at your shirt, pulling it up and bunching the fabric up.
The two of you break only when desperately necessary, both heaving like the two of you have summited a peak.
“I can’t go. Won’t go. Don’t go.”
And Eunchae squeezes her eyes tightly shut. And your lips go to her cheek, right below her eye. All this isn’t new to you, save for the fact that this is the latest time you’ve mended back together.
Her hands go to your back, squeezing you tight, keeping you close. She doesn’t draw away, only pulls you in deeper, because the both of you realise losing this is the only real defeat in both your lives.
She pulls your shirt off, over your head. Her hands rest against your chest, next to your beating heart.
“I missed you,” she admits, between laboured sobs.
“Me too.”
“Bedroom.”
The two of you stumble backwards, a clumsy waltz back. You guide her, slowly, all while she starts pressing gentle kisses on your neck, your collar. Breathes in your scent hungrily like your memory can fade away from her nose, given time.
You guide her hands to find the top of the mattress. Her fingers close, take in the textile feel of the fabric.
You reach for the hem of her shirt. And you wait, longer than you should. Long enough to hesitate.
But she nods. And you pull it off of her.
Her bra is simple. Grey. Your lips find hers first, a kiss to reassure, to remind her this is happening, your hands thumbing away her tears, which are stilling.
She doesn’t shiver at your touch, doesn’t flinch when your lips go to that spot beneath her ear. You’ve been in this spot before.
All she does is tug you over her, closing the distance to nada, till you can feel her own need on yours. Her hands disappear behind her back, and it’s quick, the way her bra is tossed aside with her left hand, and her cute little handfuls are bared to you.
And sure. Maybe it’s wrong. Maybe you’ve taken things too far. Maybe what’s important is that you don’t fucking care. You want her. She wants you.
You kiss her shoulder. Then her breasts. You’re painstakingly gentle with each, placing gentle kisses on each mound, your hands rubbing her waist in circles. She arches her back, her breath catching in a delightful little gasp.
“More,” she asks cutely.
You swear you’ll protect her till the day you die. You use your thumbs first, introduce them to the sides of her breasts. It’s a formal greeting, letting her feel the warmth of your touch as you draw the curves of her chest before you start applying any pressure.
Her fingers find your hair, moaning as your tongue paints her sensitive skin, glides over her nipples.
“Oh fuck,” you hear. You grin inwardly.
You rub her peaks against your tongue, rub the surrounding flesh with your fingers. They feel good in your hands, good as they always would. That’s the exercise here.
Eunchae shudders, her elbows squeezed to her side like it tickles, her fingers clenching on open air.
“Mmnn!”
“Love you, babe. So much.”
You kiss her lips again. Your fingers brush over her rubbery nubs firmly, insistently, a metronomic motion.
“God yes,” she says, smiling with her eyes.
Below her shirt, she has shorts on, denim booty shorts, previously concealed beneath her oversized tee. Your hands are already slightly edging downwards, and the only thing that stops you is a sudden giggle from above.
“What?” You say, confused.
Eunchae reaches for her own chest, gently squeezing and humming softly. “You look so stupid going to take my pants off while you’re crying.”
You laugh, and she joins in. “Doofus, you’re crying too.”
“Fuck,” she says, grinning as she does so. Then her hands come down to help. One firm push from her, mixed with one sharp tug from you, and everything else falls off of her.
“Damn, beautiful.”
Eunchae laughs, meaning to pull you back up to her, but you’re already snaking your way down below, till your knees are off the bed and on the floor.
“Not wasting time, are we?” She says idly, propped up on one elbow, the other tossing her hand back behind her.
“All we do is waste time,” you reply, pulling her legs apart without another word.
Her pussy, soft, inviting, looking like it can’t fit more than a couple fingers in there. They shine with arousal, and you don’t need to look up to know she’s slightly flushed.
You take the same approach you did with her tits, rubbing gently into the flesh of her thighs, and pressing loving kisses to either side till she nearly kicks you from her giggles.
“You don’t have to be shy, you know.”
“Funny,” you reply, “coming from you.”
You plunge your tongue between her legs.
Eunchae gasps, her eyes widening as it hits her all at once. You go deep, plunging into the depths of her core while making her sure her legs go still.
You lap gently. Take what’s coating your tongue and go around her outer lips first, give both sides equal attention before you spread them again, drinking from the pool between them.
Eunchae shudders, throwing her head back, an unexpectedly low tone passing from between her lips.
You press down on your tongue, using your head for added effect to apply more pressure, letting her feel the heat of your own tongue.
“Shit!”
“Mmm, yum,” you reply.
Eunchae clamps a hand over her mouth, her eyes all wide, doing a remarkable job and concealing her pleasured groans even as your gentle laps against her pussy turns to lashes.
“Now who’s being the shy one?” you tease, gathering spit on your tongue as additional lubricant and letting it fall lewdly between her legs.
“Shut up. This is… different.”
You cock an eyebrow. “Different? What, does it feel like you’re being watched?”
“I don’t know, maybe, yeah.”
“Like you need to care about giving a fuck. Just keep your eyes on me. And you know I like it when you voice your enjoyment.”
“Fine, jeez, it’s embarrassing, you know,” Eunchae says. You don’t reply, already leaning forward for a second helping.
This time, a couple of your fingers work to pull her further apart, because the truth is, she’s tight. She always has been, and maybe always will be. You rub a finger between the slit, because you know it’s better when she has time to get used to it. And you know she loves it when you take your time with her.
And you haven’t even gotten to the button poking out from beneath her hood yet.
“Ah!” Eunchae cries when you seize it by the lips, legs shaking.
“God, you eat pussy like you’re famished.”
“Only yours,” you reply, pressing another gentle kiss to her thigh, giving her but a moment’s respite. “And like you’d blame me.”
A chuckle is her response, one that’s cut off as you really start to go for it, apply full strokes the way you’ve learned she enjoys.
She enjoys everything really, anything beneath your touch. But you’ve worked hard to know what really gets her going.
“Don’t cramp on me now,” you warn, because it’s happened before.
“Ah! That- guh, that’ll be later.”
It’d be better if it was never, because it really does get in the way sometimes. But occasionally that’s how it is.
Eunchae locks her feet together behind your head, sinking back against the sheets, arms spread wide. You glance up, able to observe her heavy breathing, her chest heaving as she tosses her head left, then right like she’s having a bad dream.
She decorates the room with her soft cries, her tone a blend of rich timbre and youthful charm. Your hands keep her legs well apart, fingers almost drumming a pattern into her skin.
“Fuck, that feels really good,” Eunchae confesses.
Her hips start to move in time with your tongue, bucking back and forth gently till she hits a particular spot and lets out a shattered moan.
“Right here?” You ask, redirecting yourself to find that spot you brushed by moments earlier.
The increase in amplitude of her voice gives you the answer.
“Oh my fucking-,” Eunchae buries her mouth into her elbow, “please don’t stop. I think I might cum.”
“I won’t stop, baby,” you say, your fingers replacing your tongue whenever you speak. Add one, let her feel the intensity. “I’ll keep going, right here, okay? Till you let go for me.”
You lower your head again, and all conversations stops. Just the soft sounds of you sucking on wet flesh and the louder sounds of what it’s doing to her entire body.
“Hnn- oh, oh,” Eunchae snaps her hips suddenly, like she managed to find even more than what she asked for.
“Oh shit, oh fuck. That’s really good.”
You almost scoff. As if she hates the word.
And the one thing about her is that she doesn’t lie. When she gets going, starts reaching her peak, it’s obvious. It comes in the slight tremble in her legs. Inconsistent at first, little twitches, her toes curling against one another, then more persistently, like a soft electrical hum.
“I’m going to cum soon,” Eunchae says, like you can’t feel it beneath the vibrations of her skin.
You continue your efforts. You don’t speed up, just keep giving it to her at this exact pace, the one that she’s into today, till it’s almost robotic. You don’t speed up, but you don’t slow either, and to Eunchae, it feels like a consistent, growing build up she can’t tug away from.
“Fucking g-mmmhmmph,” Eunchae hums, borderline painfully. Almost there. You will your tongue to continue, no matter how tired it may be.
Her voice comes out in vibrato.
“Fuck! Fuuu-uu-uuu-uu-ck!”
And it’s because her body does too. Her whole body shakes, convulses uncontrollably. You guess orgasms give some people electrical shocks, because her hips twitch and buck powerfully at incredible space, and yeah, you’ve seen this before, but it’s not like the scene isn’t amazing and incredibly hot each and every time.
Eunchae whimpers like she’s afraid, a long and deep orgasm that rocks her entire body, overstimulates every single nerve.
You hold her through it, closing your eyes and letting yourself hear her, hear how well you’ve done her, feel as wetness splashes against your chin.
You hold her till she stops shaking, fingers rubbing into her thighs, easing the muscles. She always gets like this. You pray, no cramps today, please.
Eunchae takes a few moments to gasp for air, a delirious, nonsensical laugh bubbling from between her lips.
“How was that?” You say, fishing for compliments.
It takes a couple of seconds for Eunchae to prop herself back up to look at you. Her eyes are wide, unfocused, her nostrils flared and jaw slightly open.
“You know our makeup sex is the best.”
You snigger, reaching up to pinch her cheeks. It’s still slightly cool from her faded tears. She slaps your hand playfully, scrunching her nose.
“You’re adorable,” you say, and she laughs.
“Come here, you sack of potatoes.”
You pull her towards you, just as your legs clamber back on the bed. Her legs stay splayed open on either side of you.
“Let’s get you out of these, hmm?” Eunchae’s fingers move your pants, almost gently singing a tune as she undoes them.
You watch her for a few good moments, lost in the way she looks, the way happiness evident in every fiber of her being brings a calmness to your heart as well.
You don’t know how you’d deny or ever leave her.
Eunchae seems to notice that she’s the only one actually doing anything, and she gives you that curious look, frowning and for a moment it seems like she’s going to berate you about leaving your laundry hanging about again. You help her hurriedly, shimmying out of your pants.
“Want a blowjob?” She asks, palming your length in her grip. The couple strokes that follow are wholly unnecessary, and only really serve to show how big you are in her hands.
You shake your head. “We have other days for that.”
“Then what are you waiting for?”
No idea. You scoop your hands under her, under her sides, gently flipping her like a pancake. She makes a motion to raise her hips. You push them back down gently.
“Stay,” you say softly, slowly pulling her legs apart, lowering yourself till she can feel the heat of your pelvis above and behind her.
“This is cute.”
“Really, cute?” You say, slowly guiding yourself to her entrance. She’s beyond wet.
“Ye-ah!”
You push your hips forward, pressing delicately with each inch. Eunchae’s feet rub gently against the bedsheets, her voice hitching as her body grows to accept you.
It’s slow. She’s tight, but she’s also incredibly wet, so her body kind of tells you when you can sink fully.
“You good?” You ask breathily, your hands shaking against the bed. She feels indescribably good. Soft.
“Yeah,” Eunchae huffs, and the both of you hold onto your breaths as you thrust the last inch into her.
“There we go,” you gasp, feeling way too much at once. You can even discern her own heartbeat as your body drops over hers.
You press a kiss on her shoulder blades, and she rubs the back of your arms gently.
“God, fuck me,” she murmurs.
“Getting to it,” you mutter, frowning. She’s still somehow impatient.
The two of you shift till your hips are comfortably aligned. And then you lift your hips and slowly draw yourself from her warmth.
“There we go,” Eunchae says with a slight hiss, “that’s it.”
Plap!
Her perky derrière claps against your pelvis as it drops.
Plap. Plap! Plap!
“Nngh, fuck,” Eunchae groans, her head falling to the sheets already.
“This might be too much for you,” you say.
“Shut up. Prick with a big dick.”
You laugh. That’s a new one.
The pace gets easy. Eunchae lies comfortably, prone, simply making sure her hips are up at the correct angle to make things easier for you. You focus on hilting on each stroke, controlling your energy and making sure each thrust is even.
But in no time at all, she’s bucking her hips back up as well, meeting you back. And it helps. Feels great, too.
“Mmm, fuck, I really don’t know how I could possibly get away from this.”
“Yeah, it’d be your loss. People do say I have a magic penis.”
Eunchae snorts, and, like she didn’t learn her lesson, it’s cut off again by her need to moan.
“What’s with this position anyway?”
“You don’t like it?”
“No, it’s good. mmm... Just curious. You shy?”
Plap!
You roll your eyes. “Yeah, maybe it’s because sometimes you’re too pretty and it hurts to look at you.”
“Bullshit!” Eunchae calls immediately, but then her expression turns serious. “Wait, seriously?”
You press a kiss to her ear; You press another to her cheek.
“Don’t let it get to your head,” you whisper, before you start amping up your thrusts.
And you don’t see it, but Eunchae has a childish grin. And maybe it’s that kid competitiveness in her, but the harder and faster you start to thrust down, the harder her hips seem to rise up to meet yours.
Plap! Plap!
“Fuck,” you groan, tilting your head back. She’s gripping onto you so tight. Your head is swimming. The two of you could melt an ice pack with your shared body heat.
“So good.”
“Yeah? Liking it?”
“Mhmm!”
“Need something more?”
“No, this is great, really! Oh! Just, don’t act like I’ll break, mmkay? You’re gentler than usual today.”
Curious.
“Mmm, just let me know,” you mutter, refocusing your attention on making sure she gets it good. You press another kiss to her cheek, her hair tickling your nose, allowing you to catch a whiff of her pleasant ocean shampoo.
With surprising dexterity, Eunchae manages to reach for one of her hair ties laying next to her pillow, scooping her hair back and tying it into a neater ponytail. And it’s between her incessant moans and coos as well.
She tilts her head to the side, catching your gaze. She puckers her lips, and you get the message, meeting her for a couple of kisses. Difficult to get much more than light pecks in, but she doesn’t seem to complain.
You rearrange to kiss her better, and her ass rises up naturally, her knees tucking beneath her.
“This is nicer,” Eunchae says between surprisingly chaste kisses, “you looked like you were trying too hard earlier.”
“Really? Is that an insult to my endurance?”
“You talk too much.”
Eunchae tugs you towards her again, and you can feel her smiling against your lips, and you’re sure she can feel you too.
“Harder, babe. Come on.”
You nod, pumping your hips forward, more used to this more elevated position. Eunchae flicks her ponytail back, straightening her back as your hands come to rest comfortably on her waist.
“Fuck, darling, you feel so good. Seriously. You’re the best.”
“Good that you know that,” Eunchae replies, “now fuck me like you mean it.”
Your fingers dig into her skin, truth be told, you’re still a little scared she’ll break. It’s just something about her in general. You blame it on her squishy cheeks. There’s something about her that sometimes makes you hold back.
But whatever Manchae wants, Manchae gets. So if it’s a good dicking down, you’d be obliged.
The sounds of your hips meeting grows louder, rising to meet Eunchae’s volume. And her words get filthier.
“Oh god, yes! Fuck me! Harder!”
“That’s it,” she growls, “Yes! There!”
You gasp, overtaken by both exhaustion and pleasure. Eunchae doesn’t ever need to try hard to get you there, ever. Her gift, maybe.
“Mmm, fuck, Eun-ah, Chae, shit- babygirl,” your hands find her ass, kneading softly, something to distract you.
But Eunchae has other plans. She reaches behind grabbing a hold of your left hand with her own, and slowly tugs it forwards.
Towards her back, you think at first, or her shoulders, for stability. But no, she brings you all the way to her head, clasping your fingers and pressing them over the back of her skull.
Then the angle between her thighs widens, and she arches her back fully, letting you see this magnificent view of all of her, that descends past her hips.
Her moans become muffled by the sheets. “Please!”
“Fuck.” You press her down, fully, keeping her head pressed to the bed as you ramp up.
“Oh, yes, like that! Just like that!”
“Are you getting close?”
“Mmm! Are you?”
“You know I am.”
“Just hold on a little bit longer, okay? Mmph! You’re fucking me so good right now, it’s driving absolutely crazy. Keep doing that, you crazy bastard. I love it!”
Ah hell. Whatever.
You keep her pinned, your right hand grubbing her waist tightly; guiding the way her hips thrust back onto your cock so you can grind yourself as deeply as you can into her.
And you’re definitely on the right track, because her body twitches with surprising force, and she tries to tile her head back.
You release your grip on her locks, and she turns back to look at you urgently. You feel her trying to shift your weight. You slow, confused.
“I wanna see you when you cum in me.”
Your eyes go wide. But she’s already in motion, and the two of you reposition till she’s flat on her back, legs wide, you pressed, leaned between them.
She presses her hips up against you insistently, and it’s muscle memory that gets you fucking her again.
“Yes, I’m gonna cum!”
Yeah, you can feel that. Her legs are trembling again.
“Babygirl–”
“Cum with me! Cum with me, cum with me cum with me!”
Pleasure suddenly spikes throughout your whole body.
“Oh fuck, baby, wait–
“Fuck meee… Cumming!”
“Oh fuck!”
You groan, firing off first. It’s a complete crashing wave, one that knocks you off your metaphorical feet, till you’re dumping and groaning and simply gasping at how much it all is, suddenly spilling and shooting and feeling that it’ll never stop.
Eunchae’s a couple beats behind, her legs quivering and shaking with enough strength to rock the both of you as she shrieks, her hands twisted dangerously tight around your arms. Both your moans reverberate, and your eyes nearly bug out of your skull.
With her full-body convulsions, it’s a completely unbelievable and incredible sensation on your member, and it wrings dry any possible remnants you could have.
It actually takes you a couple minutes to process what happened. You nearly ripped your cock out of her from the amount of sudden, concentrated pleasure. Sure, make up sex has always been awesome? But that?
Eunchae murmurs gently, incoherently, her eyes still firmly shut. She’s tugging at you gently, trying to get you over her, and once you regain your senses you let her, the two of you collapsing in a post sex coma.
“Holy shit,” you murmur. “That was…”
“Nnmm, uh..uh huh.”
“Baby–”
“Yeah.”
You’d laugh if you weren’t gasping for air.
After another five minutes, when the hammering in both chests have stopped, Eunchae presses a kiss to your cheek. You jerk your head up, having already nearly fallen asleep.
She gives you another kiss on your lips, then rolls onto her side. You slide into that natural spot behind her, spooning you both.
“Covers.”
You tug the sheets and toss them over the both of you.
“I’m gonna pull out,” you murmur.
“Fuck it.”
You smile against her back.
“You’re crazy.”
“Mhm. Night, babe.”
“Night.”
You help to turn off the lights, then settle back into your spot. Everything feels right, just like it always has. The way you cuddle behind her, it’s like it has always been.
Except. Something nags at you, and it takes you a moment to figure out what’s up.
“Babygirl.”
“Yeah?” Eunchae asks a heartbeat later.
“You thinking?”
“...yeah.”
“About what?”
Eunchae doesn’t reply.
“... Is it about whether anything changed?”
A sniffle.
“Hey,” you say, reaching over. You cup her cheeks. They are damp. You sigh.
“I know. God dammit. I know.”
“It’s the same,” Eunchae murmurs, like it is heartbreak.
“Is it? Is it another loop, baby? Is it not working for you?”
“No, I mean… no. It…”
“What?”
You feel Eunchae shuffle in her position. “We’re improving. We are. You didn’t even dump your laundry in the right basket at first. Now you’re doing it for me. I don’t know how you feel, but I feel like every time, we get a little closer. Closer to that perfect thing we both want, the perfect day we can both wake up to.”
You feel fuzzy. “Then why the tears?”
“Because I don’t know if we’re healing fast enough. What if it takes too long to get there. What if the guilt gets to you? What if one of us gets chased out?”
A pause. You rub her cheeks gently, trying to rid her tears with damp fingers. You don’t know, honestly.
“Then fuck it. What matters is our here and now. And that we tried. I won’t run away from it. If I go down, I go down swinging. You’re what matters.”
“Do you believe that?”
You lie back down, your hand still protectively wrapped around her waist.
“I do. Because nothing’s worth it if I don’t.”
After a while, Eunchae’s breathing turns regular, smooth. You said something that mattered, something true. And it must have comforted her. And even as you sink into sleep, sink deeper into the confirmation that yeah, you know what, you believe in what you said. What does anything else mean in the grand scheme of things? Does anything matter more than the warm body next to you?
The real question is:
Did any of it matter?
Because what else is any of this? Besides video tapes that are only evidence to two?
____
You’re pretty sure you’ve told your knees to stop shaking three times already. And still, they wouldn’t listen.
You rub your hands together. It’s not even that cold yet. Some of the fleece on your jacket must have peeled off. The insulation feels like shit today. Your eyes scan the campus garden furtively, making sure that none of your friends are in the vicinity. You have to be undercover today, or you’ll never hear the end of it.
“Hey.”
Ah crap. You swallow slowly, turning your head to look at her. Hong Eunchae, hair done up in a ponytail, with those bangs that have become her signature.
“Hey.”
“You look like a wreck. Did one of the profs assign a surprise test or what?”
“No,” you chuckle weakly, “that’s not it. But I’m sure you can guess what’s really up.”
Eunchae tilts her head to the sky for a moment, slowly walking over and dropping her bag on the seat next to yours.
“Yes, considering everyone’s eyes on campus will be on you from this day onward, I guess you’d be nervous.”
“Thanks for the sympathy.”
Eunchae laughs. “I mean, what were you expecting? You had the balls to come up to me to ask me out, you’d better have the balls to become the talk of the school for the next few weeks.”
“For the foreseeable future, more like. I can already imagine Yunjin’s instagram post. Comp Eng Loser tries to steal my bestie? I’m gonna smoke his ass.”
“Oh, Yunjin already knows.”
“What?” You freeze.
“Eh, you’ll be alright.”
“You do realise that the both of us have no idea if this is going to work, right?”
“All the more reason for you to not screw this up, then.”
“...Fantastic.”
____
“Emmchhe!”
Eunchae doubles over, her hands clutching her belly.
You pull the ice cream cone off your face, looking positively furious.
“Are you kidding me?”
“You look like Anpanman!”
“Oh it’s funny to you, is it?” You growl, rubbing the strawberry ice cream on your flushed cheekbones. “Seriously? Ice cream slap? This cone cost fourteen bucks!”
“Worth it!” Eunchae sings, throwing you finger guns.
“You!” You snarl, swiping at her face with the cone. Eunchae shrieks.
“Ah! You got it on me!”
A long streak of red slices across Eunchae’s features from lip to jaw, like a really bad nosebleed.
“Deserved. I’m taking a photo.”
“Hey!”
Eunchae’s fingers clamp around the hand reaching into your pocket, halting it. You roll your eyes.
“Fine. I won’t. Let go of me.”
“I don’t trust you! Haha!”
You sigh, watching as the ice cream starts to melt on her soft features. Without thinking, your free hand comes up to start wiping it off. Eunchae’s eyes widen for a moment. Then she giggles. Laughs. Her hands release your own, and she comes up to tap at your cheeks, like she’s checking if the damage has really been done.
You laugh too. Goddammit.
____
“It’s peaceful here,” Eunchae mutters, leaning her head against your shoulders. It’s nice and cool, the perfect temperature to come to the river. Eunchae was right in dragging your lazy ass over. “I thought it’d be busy, but it’s like everyone knows to keep things quiet and nice.”
“Yeah, it’s nice. But your jjapageti is getting cold.”
“Mmm… feed me.”
“You’re such a baby,” You sigh, but you do it anyway. Eunchae giggles, clapping happily.
“Delicious!”
“Yeah yeah,” you smile. Your hand reaches for the fried chicken next. “Try this.”
Eunchae makes an appealing crunch. She hums in joy, her whole body swaying at the taste. You laugh. It’s ridiculous. She even bobs her head.
“You better feed me next.”
“I don’t wanna!”
“Brat.”
___
“So I’m going first?”
“Prepare to have your mind blown, Miss Hong. This dish is about to be so good, it’ll give you an out-of-body orgasm.”
“Pervert!”
“What? It happens in Food Wars! This is culinary expertise here!”
“Sure, sure. But the plating looks kind of simple, don’t you think?”
“Blasphemy! How dare you insult my skills. It’s art. A Michelin recipe!”
“Michelin, eh? You know the tire company-”
“Yeah, yeah, just get on with it. I cannot wait to see the look on your bedazzled face when you try my bamboozling bokkeumbap.”
“Alright, Chef Ramsay. Let’s see what you’ve got.”
You watch intently as she scoops up a spoon of rice.
“Get the kimchi! That’s the best part!”
“Jeez, let me eat in peace, will you?”
The food enters her mouth. She chews. Bites. There’s a nice sounding crunch of kimchi. Her face is stoic. You watch with baited breath.
Then she frowns, squeezing her eyes shut and cringing.
“It’s salty!”
“Bullshit!” You leap to your feet, offended beyond belief. You were a goddamn magician in the kitchen earlier!
“It really is!”
“This is biased judgement. Malfeasance!”
“Settle down, boy who cried wolf. I rate it a five out of ten.”
Your jaw slams into the ground. “A five? Where are my boyfriend pity points?”
“Already included. Two of them, in fact.”
You feel like tossing the frying pan at her. Your hands vanish into your hair. This is outrage!
“Try mine.”
“No! This isn’t fair. We need an unbiased judge! I’ll call the neighbours over.”
“Scared you’ll lose?”
Your eye twitches.
“Yeah right. If mine’s a five, yours is not even surpassing a three.”
“Spoon to the plate, dipshit.”
“I can’t wait to puke all over you.”
“Ew!”
You take your seat. Scoop up a plate of suspiciously orange looking bokkeumbap. So what if her egg is fluffier than yours? The rice is the real deal breaker here. Eunchae watches you like she already knows she’s won. What an egotist.
You send it to your mouth confidently. Yeah right, there’s no way she’s gonna beat you. She nearly dropped the knife earlier, nearly caused a panicked mess. You can’t wait to spit it back at-
Your face blanks. You stare. Your spoon clatters to the table.
Eunchae shows her pearly whites.
You stare at the plate. Then back at her. Chew.
“That’s not fair!” You roar, slamming your hand down on the table like you need a drink. Eunchae shrieks with glee, climbing out of her seat and doing a celebratory spin.
“This is your mom’s recipe! How the hell am I supposed to beat that!”
“Eat my ass!”
Oh you’ll do that alright. But you’re still fucking mad.
“This was supposed to be an individual competition! No outside help allowed!”
“I cooked it all myself,” Eunchae says matter-of-factly.
“Using other people’s recipe is against the rules!”
“Uh, actually, dipshit, it wasn’t even in the rules. Brains beats brawn, right?”
“Fuck off!” You turn back to the table, shoving another mouthful of her bokkeumbap into your mouth, “Mommy’s girl. Cheater!”
Eunchae laughs, drumming her hands against your back. You continue eating, shovelling the impeccable taste of her mom’s cooking into your goblet, all while ranting about the injustice of society.
“Hey! That’s my lunch! Go back to eating your three out of ten! Asshole!”
____
The cabin shakes slightly beneath your feet, giving both you and Eunchae a slight scare. She looks up at you, sniggering.
“This is safe, right?”
“Yes, you big baby. Now focus on what’s behind you.”
You turn around, watching as the Ferris Wheel starts to ascend, giving you a great view of the Japanese coastline.
“Wow. Blue, blue, and more blue. Stunning.”
“Killjoy,” Eunchae grumbles, taking out her phone to snap a few pictures to send to Chaewon and the girls. You smile, hands in your pockets, one thumbing a thin chain of metal between your fingers.
“Hey, babe?” You say once the two of you are decently up in the air.
“Yeah? Could you bend over, baby? I want to take a pic behind you.”
You’ll ignore making the obvious joke this time.
“Are you enjoying our anniversary celebration?”
“Yeah,” Eunchae nods happily, then tilts her head to the side. “Why?”
“Rate it?”
“Ten out of ten? You brought me to Japan, babe. I think that’s definitely a step up.”
It’s good that she’s loving it and all, but you get a cheeky idea.
“A perfect ten? Okay then. Guess my job here is done.”
Eunchae narrows her eyes. “What is it?”
“Nothing?”
Her eyes drop to the hands in your pockets.
“What’s that? You’ve got something.”
“Is that so? Why don’t you guess? What has Bagginses got in his pocketses?”
Eunchae rolls her eyes. “Show it to me.”
“You’re no fun,” you sigh.
You pull the necklace out from your pocket, grinning as you see her eyes glimmer and her smile widen.
“Oh my god. I could kiss you.”
“Could? You better kiss me. This is worth at least a dozen kisses from my girlfriend. And a blowjob. And buttsex!”
“Freak!” Eunchae’s eyes widen, but her smile is still plastered on. “Give it here!”
“Giveitses?”
“Oh, stop with that. Come on!”
“Come here then!”
Eunchae cheers excitedly as she moves over to your side, giggling as you gingerly put it on for her.
“You lose this, and you’re paying me back with buttsex.”
“Stop!”
You smile at the little glimmer now added to her shine. It’s perfect, like you thought it would be. For a moment, nothing matters. Not the bill, not the time spent, not what’s going to happen next. It’s just you and her. And that indescribable feeling.
“What do you think?”
Eunchae looks down, her eyes similarly in a state of wonder.
“I love it.”
“It? Is that all you really have to say for yourself?”
She giggles, like she doesn’t even care how much she’s rubbing it in.
“Fine. What do you want me to say?”
“You even need me to tell you?” You say, shaking your head in disappointment.
“Come on. Say the three words babe.”
____
A/N:
This was done months ago. Endless proofreads, endless changes, always feeling like this fic didn’t say what it needed to say, didn’t do it well enough. Finally posting it is… serene. Finally, I told myself, this is it. Exactly how I want it. My only hope is that it landed for all of you. The meaning. The emotions, the words. I’m reminded why my soul has always been for this, for writing things just like this. Thank you for reaching the end.
“I thought you said you were going to beat that one game?”
“I just did.” You flop down on the bed next to her, staring up at the ceiling as she continues her crocheting. “Now I got nothing else to do.”
“Don’t you have games that you have to play?” she asks, focus entirely on the yarn in the hands. “You have like, what, ten games you haven’t played yet since the sale?”
“I’m not in the mood to play ‘em.” You let out a deep sigh, fingers rhythmically tapping at the bedsheets. “I don’t even know why I got them in the first place.”
“That’s what you get for buying them all,” she giggles, glancing at her tablet momentarily, holding up the in-progress-cloth. “Why don’t you play that one game?”
“Which one?” You prop yourself up by the elbow, chin on your hand. Watching her fingers deftly weave the wool, admiring how good she looks. Light makeup, glasses that make her look delectably adorable, your flannel over the white top she has on. You’re not sure if she knows that a hint of the black lace underneath is peeking out, but it’s not like there’s anyone that isn’t you have the privilege to see it right now.
“The one with the big number,” she replies, tilting her head. “All about paintings, from what I remember?”
“Oh, that one.” You’re not going to tell her that you bought that game full price and not on the recent sale. A game on the backlog is a game on the backlog, after all. “Maybe I should pick it up.”
“I heard it won a lot of awards,” she adds, face scrunching up cutely when she inspects her work. “And the story’s got everyone hooked.”
“Maybe you can watch while I play?” You grin, knowing that she’ll be taking the controller from you at some point. Even on the intended difficulty, you knew how hard that game was. Add the fact that Sakura gets extremely competitive on wanting to be the best, and you’ll most likely need to add a few controllers to the cart.
“Later, hun.” She smiles, turning to look at you. “I want to finish this hat for Sana first.”
“But I’m bored,” you whine, pleading with your eyes. Silently begging for her to give you some much needed attention.
“You’re so needy today,” she teases, letting out a little chuckle at your dilemma. “Can’t you play it without me?”
“I can, but I wanna play it with you.” That makes her melt, and her hand reaches out to boop your nose.
“Sweet,” she says, making you smile. “I promise I’ll play it with you later, okay?”
“Fine,” you relent, rolling back down onto the bed. Eyes gazing up on an upside down Sakura, who’s gone back to focusing on the yarn in her hands. “Still bored, by the way.”
“I’m sure there’s something you can do,” she says, her tongue sticking out, struggling at this one part.
Her statement gets you to think. No missed chores that you can pick back up, not in the mood to head to the gym after yesterday’s leg day, don’t want to play without Sakura—
Playing with Sakura is a thought. A fun one, upon giving it much thought. You glance back down to where the hint of her bra is peeking out of that tight top she has on, and even your flannel—as loose as it was on her—can’t hide how busty she is.
You move to sit behind her, arms wrapped around her tiny waist. Pulling her close, her arms come up to face level as she leans back against you. The face she must be making would tell you that she has an inkling of what you have in store to get rid of your boredom.
She’ll still ask what you’re doing. Give you that raise of her brow as she gives you a side eye. Roll her eyes at you when you give her a noncommittal answer, like a shrug and a nonchalant “Just watching you do your thing, sweetheart.”
You let your hands slide underneath her top, feeling the milky smooth skin and the contour of her abs, fingers running through the hard muscle. She lets you, of course; continuing on with completing the beige ‘hat’ that you quite can’t tell how far along it is from being one.
Your chin rests on her shoulder, the view of her deep cleavage from the top gets your fingers feeling frisky, and you gulp at the sight. You distract yourself with a whiff of her shampoo and her body wash wafting through your nostrils. It gets you nuzzling into her neck, lips leaving a peck by her pulse, your breath getting her ticklish and getting her to giggle.
“Stop.” The playful way in her tone along with a small nudge of her elbow against your chest tells you otherwise, and your hands come to join. Touching the spots you know where she’s ticklish, getting your fingers stabbing into them lightly that gets her to reveal the melody of her laugh that never fails to get you to smile.
It gets to a point where the yarn falls down to her lap, her own hands trying to get you to stop your assault on her spots. Every giggle, every laugh—it’s intoxicating, such a beautiful harmony that you could never grow tired of hearing.
Doesn’t help that her thrashing to get you to stop is unintentionally making her ass grind against your pants, her short shorts doing wonders for your cock that’s slowly straining against your pants.
Sakura manages to end it, one way or another. In this case she puts her entire weight on top of you, trapping you between her and the bed. She grabs hold of one of your hands, getting you to stop at least half of your tickle attack. With a quick swivel around, she faces you, her messy hair along with the crooked glasses that you’re surprised managed to stay on her face takes your breath away.
God, you could stare at the visage of her angelic features. A goddess, right in your arms—such irresistible pulchritude that you’re even lucky to breathe so close next to. Combined with the fond look on Sakura's face, the softening look in her eyes, the slight shake of her head that gets her hair framing her face.
And that damned smile that gets you all the time.
“Do you have nothing else to do?” she jokes, straddling you properly, her grip on your hand loosening.
The fingers that are on her waist squeeze gently. “Other than doing you, not really.”
Sakura scoffs, rolling her eyes with a grin. “Needy and horny.” She leans in close, her lips inches away from yours. “Whatever will we do?”
“I was thinking if you can maybe, hopefully—” You raise your hips slightly, making her gasp when your erection is against her shorts. “Possibly help me out?”
“After messing up my hat?” You take the chance to look down at what’s happened with her work. It doesn’t look that bad, though that's what your ignorant brain sees. “I should leave you blue balled for that.”
“I’ll make it up to you,” you say, your free hand resting on her thigh, thumb running circles over the smooth expanse under your palm.
She raises an eyebrow. “You don’t even know how to crochet, hun.”
You reach up to fix the pair of glasses on her face. “I’ll buy you new polaroid film?”
Sakura narrows her eyes, humming thoughtfully. Her answer doesn’t come out quickly, as if she was actually debating on whether she’ll take your offer or not. It comes with a mocking sigh followed by a chaste kiss on your lips. “Deal.” She tilts her head, giving you a smirk. “How does my honey want my help?”
“Well–” you start, already dead set on what you want, running your finger down to give her breast a quick squeeze. “These would be fucking amazing on my face, sweetie.”
Another roll of her eyes. “You and your fascination with my tits,” she comments, shaking her head at your antics.
“Are you complaining?”
“Of course not.” Pulling away to sit upright once more, her legs tuck under into a kneeling position, palms tapping her thighs. “Come on, hun.”
You follow her order, laying your head on her soft thighs while she pulls the flannel down her arms, the buttons of her top becoming undone enough to loosen the fabric and give way for her cleavage. You’re already salivating at the idea of what she’s offering, arm wrapping around her waist to pull yourself closer to her chest.
Your other hand reaches up, parting her shirt in the middle, that lacy black bra of hers an even more thought reducing sight on her than you realize. The exposure has you paralyzed, the one and only action you can do is let out a quiet curse at the fact that you’ll be drooling all over those magnificent tits, followed by—
“I fucking love you so much,” you blurt out, gazing up at Sakura’s smug face, the adoration bleeding through her eyes.
“Love you too, you horny little shit.” The nickname gets you both laughing, and it’s such a stark contrast to what both your hands are doing that it’s a wonder how you two can get into these situations. Hers fishing your cock out of your sweatpants, yours pulling her bra to the side to expose the soft, mouth watering flesh underneath.
Her laughs become breathless once your mouth latches on to the pink little nub of hers, suckling on her teat like a baby. Giving them a little nibble as your other hand reaches up to grab hold of her other breast, wanting to give her as equal attention as you can. And even through all those layers, you’ll never get enough of playing with her chest.
Sakura isn’t idle throughout, spitting down her hand and wrapping her fingers around your length, stroking you languidly. It gets you moaning, your hips bucking up at her hand as your eyes close. The sweetheart that she is, helping prop you up with her palm resting at the back of your head too, making sure that you never leave her soft, warm, delicious embrace.
“You look like a baby,” she giggles, turning to focus her attention to your cock. She thumbs your slit at every stroke upward, brushing against your balls when she reaches the base, her fingers hitting your every weakness like she was getting revenge for your earlier actions. “Take your time, honey. I’m not going anywhere.”
The words only spur you on, getting you to suck harder, grope rougher. You’re in a haze of pleasure, the pink nipple you’re nursing tasting so scrumptious that you wonder how much better it would taste like if milk were to ever come out of her breasts. You can only let out a muffled noise at the concept, biting down on her nub.
Her strokes grow faster on your cock, cooing such dirty provocations watching you lose yourself. The seduction in your ear, whispering how nice and hard you are for her, feeling you throb in her hands. Her giggles are temptation symphonized, words of encouragement coming out of her in droves as you worship her. That’s it, honey, you’re doing so good sucking on my tits.
Feeding you more fantasies at every groan you let out, thrusting into her hand in an attempt to chase your release. Growing desperate in her arms, your hunger grows ravenous as you suck fervently on her bud, with the only thing that gets you to stop was a one, simple possibility that she can turn into reality.
“I bet you want to fuck my tits so bad, don’t you?”
That gets you humming excitedly, head nodding, your eyes finally opening to be greeted with Sakura’s gorgeous face—flushed and warm and grinning down at you. You pull away, and if you could get on your knees to beg, you could. “Fuck, please.”
“Stand up for me.” You scramble, your feet hitting the floor in record time, Sakura sitting in front of you by the edge of the bed. She’s biting her lip at the sight of you positively throbbing, leaking precum because of her. “Already so close?”
“Me and my fascination with your tits.” You’re putty in her hands, jerking you off slowly to keep you wanting more. And more she gives, when she’s taking off her glasses and pulling her shirt off her head to expose her bra.
She makes a show of it, pressing them together to remind you just how deep her cleavage can go, of how big her chest is under all those layers of clothing. Baggy, fit, tight—all that doesn’t matter in the face of genetics.
“Starting to think you love my tits more than me,” she says, taking hold of your cock by the base. She gathers drool in her mouth, letting it trickle down her lips and coating your shaft.
“Kkura, sweetie, you know I love you a lot more than your tits, right?” you begin, hands resting on her shoulders.
“Mhmm.” She’s smirking, enjoying you squirm. “Your point?”
“My point is–” You’re interrupted by the softest sensation in the world wrapping around your cock, your words turning into mush when she slips your cock in between her tits, bra still on to entrap you in the pillowy hold. “Oh for fuck’s sake, can I please fuck the utter shit out of your tits?”
Sakura devilishly chuckles, pressing her tits together, the velvety embrace growing tighter. “Love you too, honey.”
You’re fucked stupid, and you haven’t even started fucking her chest yet. She starts it for you instead, fucking your cock on her breasts with this insufferably slow pace, letting another batch of spit down your cock, pooling into her cleavage. And the pressure is intense, thought shattering, god you need to fuck them—
Your hips thrust up, making your tip peek up her breasts. That alone gets your thighs to tremble at the sensation, and you’re biting your lip in a feeble attempt to delay your fate. “Oh my god.” Another thrust, and that unlocks the flood gates. “I’m never gonna leave your tits alone after this.”
“Not like you weren’t already doing that.” She leans down, pressing her lips against your head when you thrust up a third time, and you can only help yourself with a curse slipping out your lips. “Starting fucking ‘em already, hun.” Another dose of spit falls down your cock. “Or are you all talk?”
The pace you set off the bat is harsh; hands gripping her shoulders firmer as your hips snap upwards. The filthy grin on her face as you watch your cock disappear between her breasts adds to the entire sight. Her hands dig down harder on her tits, the embrace impossibly tight that every thrust has the odds of you cumming down her cleavage.
And Sakura has no say as to when you will. She’s given you the reins, letting you whatever you want to her breasts, looking delighted at the mess you must look like by now. You can barely talk, completely taken over by the need to chase that high, and she knows it.
“Cum for me,” she says, those three words making you growl. Your rhythm goes erratic, and you reach up to hold onto the back of her neck. “Come on, honey. Paint these tits that you love so much.”
“Kkura, fuck–”
“Please?” It’s so innocent, the way she says it. Until the next set of words come out of her mouth, and all you can hear is pure, unadulterated depravity. “Need you to mark me with your cum. Want it so bad, please–”
You come down, taking her lips with your own as your orgasm hits, and your entire body is trembling. Your moans grow muted as the first spurt shoots up her breasts and hits her collarbone. The next few pool in her cleavage, a few strays staining her bra with your seed.
Her tongue plays with yours as you glaze her, her hands coming up to hold you upright. Her chest follows your hips, moving up and down your cock, each pulse sending another streak of white across her skin.
By the end of it you’re almost slumped against her, your forehead pressing against hers. Your lips linked with a string of saliva, her breath hot against your face. You can barely stand up, lungs in dire need of air, the only thing that’s keeping you up are your hands on Sakura and her own on your hips.
Sakura leans up to plant a wet peck on your lips before she pulls your cock off from between her bra, ruined and stained full of white. “Look at that,” she breathes, looking down at the mess that you’ve created. “I’ll need to throw this bra away because of you.”
You let out a shaky chuckle. “I’ll buy you a new one.” You move to sit beside her, but the aftereffects of your high cause you sagging into the bed.
“Hun, please.” She turns to you with a playful glint. “You’ll just ruin it again.” Her fingers run down her cleavage, scooping up a dollop of your cum and taking it in her mouth. “Yum.”
Her gaze cast downward, toward your softening cock. She takes a glance up to your face, that playfulness turning dark before she sweeps down to take you in her mouth. Your legs jolt, the sudden sensation of her tongue swirling around your length such an overwhelming feeling. It makes you crave for it when she pulls away just as quick.
“Happy now?” she asks, all casual and smiles. Like you’re not dead on the bed and on life support.
“Ecstatic, sweetheart.” You barely have the strength to reach up and cup her cheek.
Sakura smiles sweetly, taking your hand in hers, her lips kissing your palm. “Want me to get some water for you?”
“Please,” you say, and with another, parting kiss on your palm she stands up—cum painted in her chest, bra utterly ruined, and completely glowing that make you shout out—
“Have I mentioned how much I love you yet?”
“Multiple times, hun!”
As she leaves to grab some well needed hydration, you can’t help but let out a smile.
~Ive's Liz (x Male Reader), 6.2k words, Smut, Cafe Cuties Part 7 (previous part)
Read it on Fanprose
A/N:
I'm never beating the allegations
Thank you @bunnsfw for supplying the cover art template! The goat.
Relationship with Chaewon? Restored.
Lonely Eunchae? Plapped.
Yunjin? Befriended.
With that, you can finally get back to your life as a regular cafe worker.
Except you're a supervisor now, and this is no regular cafe. It's Cozy's Coffee & Cakes.
[Ms. Manager (scary)]
EMERGENCY MEETING. STORE. 15 MINUTES.
That's what the text said anyway, and yeah, maybe you’re not so sure if it’s better now that things are normal. Yunjin and Eunchae are already there, a thread of seriousness lining their faces. The little bell jingles, signaling your arrival. It's like a conference room of some top secret facility, blinds drawn low.
"It's not going to work. Our menu has been exposed for months. Those posters we made teased our upcoming drinks. Tch. Cowards probably planned this months in advance." Chaewon says, squinting so hard you can even see them through the sunglasses she's wearing.
"But we have to try!" Yunjin claps back. We can't just let them take everything we've worked for!" She's wearing a blazer, weirdo.
"Hmph, let me do it," Eunchae says with pizazz. What is this, a spy movie?
"it can't be you," Chaewon says curtly, to Eunchae’s dismay. "But maybe…?"
Three heads flick to you, still in your normal casual clothing. "What the hell is going on? Why are the blinds drawn! Aren't we open?"
Chaewon slams her hand on the table, silencing you. "I told you 15 minutes. Try not to make an embarrassment of yourself first week as supervisor!"
Yunjin nods her head for you to come closer. "Bad time to be late, rook."
"Rook? I've been here longer than you! I-I'm your supervisor!" You say, but still follow her orders anyway. "And what the hell is going on?"
She picks up a folder with 'CONFIDENTIAL' stamped across it in big red letters. "See for yourself."
Eunchae tries again, telling Chaewon she's right for the job, and they trail off with their argument. You open the file.
"Baked and Brewed Seoul, grand opening… oh, that's in two days? Is that what all the fuss is about?"
The question draws Eunchae and Chaewon out of their talks.
"What else is in two days, Mr. supervisor?" Eunchae asks.
"Don't call me that!"
"Our new menu launches, Mr. Supervisor," Chaewon answers. "This is planned. Targeted."
Yunjin, the one you deemed to be the voice of reason for her… normalcy compared to the two nods her head in agreement.
"Guys… am I the only one who thinks this isn't a big deal? So what!?"
"We just got to someplace stable! Remember a month ago? We were about to shut down. Now Baked and Brewed Seoul is opening!? Where do they get off! Copying us like that!" Chaewon yells.
"Copying us? Aren't we just like, a regular ca—"
"Finish that sentence!" Chaewon challenges you. "Yunjin!"
"Baked and Brewed. Sound familiar?" Yunjin asks.
"N-no not really."
"What do you bake and what do you brew!" Eunchae yells. “Coffee and cakes. We’re Cozy’s Coffee and Cakes! Clearly, they’re copying us!”
"Are they? I mean, doesn’t every cafe have coffee and ca-"
"No!"
Look, is it a big deal? Maybe. Is it a ‘draw the blinds and whip on the blazers and sunglasses’ big deal? Probably not. But you've been here long enough to not question things. It's still better than getting face caked. So you play your part as they argue about what to do.
"It's simple! We need to infiltrate their ranks!"
"Infiltrate!?" Okay, maybe you're not playing your part, but you're trying.
"I can do it, General!"
"Since when is Chaewon a General?"
"I have a plan."
Eunchae is back in 10 minutes with: a long overcoat and a fake mustache.
"What the hell is this?" You ask.
Chaewon and Yunjin stare at it, deep in thought.
"Our disguise," Eunchae smiles as if revealing a key bit of information.
"Why the hell is it so big?"
"Duh, I'll sit on your shoulders under the overcoat. They'll never suspect a thing."
This is absurd. This is… definitely the Cozy's you remember. "Why do we need a disguise?"
"Because it's more fun. Obviously," Chaewon cuts in.
"Fun? What does this have to do with fun?"
"What's the point if it's not fun!" Yunjin retorts.
God. You might go crazy.
"No, no. Sergeant has a point." Eunchae concedes. “Maybe we don’t need a disguise.”
"Sergeant?"
"Then it's settled."
"Just like that!?" you reply incredulously
"It has to be him and Yunjin," Chaewon decides.
"General, please! Let me!"
"You and me are out of the question!"
"Why?"
"We've been staring into their windows like, 2 hours a day while they trained for opening. They'll recognize us an instant."
“Wait, what the hell is happening? We aren’t using this damn disguise, are we?”
---
It's settled, then. Seems that means ‘no disguise, you and Yunjin will go in normally’. Thank god, although you still don't think it had to be you and Yunjin, but yeah, Chaewon and Eunchae are insane for staring into their windows.
"Ready, Serge?" Yunjin asks from inside Cozy's.
You roll your eyes at the nickname, but nod anyway.
"Make them pay!" Eunchae yells from behind the counter, making coffees for the short line of customers.
You both cross the street, and there's already a line stretching onto the street for their grand opening. Already, Yunjin notes their storefront is more appealing. Posters in the glass windows, a little logo a coffee mug stamped on everything.
By the time you're past the threshold of the door, the line has grown even longer.
"Were you guys this busy when you first opened?"
"No, I don't think so. Me and Eunchae got hired not too long after we opened, but it was pretty dead back then. Until you came, really."
"So I'm tasked with saving Cozy's again, huh."
"Is it really that big a deal though? I get it, it's not great for business, but cafes are one of the most common places. Is this really a threat to the store?"
"See for yourself," Yunjin pushes the door open.
You're instantly hit with the rich aroma of coffee, but also warmth. It's not the clean aesthetic of Cozy's. There's warm light spilling from antique looking lamps, the glowing fireplace in the corner roars, there are fluffy couches and wooden tables of all varieties, like each section of the cafe has a different vibe. A small bookshelf erupts in one corner, and chess set in the other.
If you're being honest, it's the type of place you'd go to to just, chill.
"Shit."
"Shit," Yunjin agrees.
There are already 3 workers moving with practiced precision, steaming milk with ease, counting cash at the speed of a gun.
You being you, of course, notice something else.
"Stop glancing at them! You'll blow our cover!"
"I-I'm not glancing."
Yunjin eyes you suspiciously. "I feel like I've seen that look before."
"What look?"
"That look."
"I'm not giving them any loo-"
"Welcome to Baked and Brewed Seoul, may I take your order?"
She's short, shorter than Eunchae or Yunjin, even Chaewon by a bit. She has a bright face, even brighter smile with cheeks that would probably be as fun to pinch as Chaew—
"We'll take 2 of your lavender honey lattes and a slice of your cheesecake please," Yunjin says in an equally bright voice, but makes a point to emphasize the words to snap you out of it.
You go through the motions, Yunjin paying with the company card ("When did you get a company card? Even I don't have one!), giving the name for the order, and sitting down.
"You falling in love aside, these are really comfy couches," Yunjin says, plopping down next to you.
"They are. Like, really comfortable."
"Try," she says, handing you the latte.
You take a sip, and that first hit of espresso hits you, warm, nutty, rich, followed by the sweet aroma of honey and lavender, and you can't help but close your eyes as it washes down your throat.
"Fuck."
"Good?"
"You try it."
Yunjin omits a similar reaction as she sips the coffee, and an unholy gasp of refreshment comes after.
"Yeah."
You put your coffee down trying your best to look worried, but honestly, it's a really nice cafe. It's like all your stress washed away at the door.
Yunjin probably feels it too, the way she's melting into the couch.
"Should we try the cake?" you ask.
"You go first."
You pick up the plate, inspecting it. It looks pretty. You take the spoon, scooping up a piece and popping it into your mouth.
You smile.
"What? Oh god, is it delicious? Gimme some! I mean, no, throw it out!"
"No, Yunjin!" you exclaim, mouth full of cake. "We got them beat here."
"You're not understanding, we have better cakes than them!"
"That's not enough," Chaewon sighs. "It sounds like the whole ambience of their cafe could put us out of business." She buried her face into her hands, pinching her visage. "What about their drinks?"
"Pretty damn good."
"And their menu? Lots of selections?"
"Oh actually… I'm not too sure."
"What do you mean 'not to sure', what did I send you over there for? Tch. And their size? How many people can they sit?"
"Errr, maybe like, I don't know, a couple dozen?"
"‘I don't know’ this, ‘maybe’ that, did you do anything useful?" Chaewon scolds. "How about their service?"
"It was… good," you admit.
"He fell in love," Yunjin teases. "That's why he can't answer your questions."
"With who?"
"With who?"
Chaewon and Eunchae of course.
"I did not fall in love!"
"Yes you did, you couldn't take your eyes off of her!"
"Who was it?" Eunchae begs.
"Psh, idiot cow falls in love with anything he sees," Chaewon rolls her eyes.
"Who was it!?"
"You know, I think I recognized her," Yunjin thinks. "Wait— wait hold on," she pulls out her phone, frantically searching.
"I knew it!" she says after a short while
"What?"
"I freaking knew it!"
"Who is she?"
Yunjin turns her phone, revealing an Instagram profile with over a hundred thousand followers. It's the same girl who took your order.
"Her?" Chaewon says shocked.
"Who is that?" Eunchae asks.
"She's like, a coffee expert. She makes latte art content, home coffee brewing, she has a whole page dedicated to it!"
"You weak willed cow! I knew it! You're the type to oogle like a chimp at any cute girl!"
"She is pretty though," Eunchae lets up.
"You fell in love with Pham Hanni!" Yunjin laughs.
"I'm not in love!"
"Stop defending yourself! It's decided, my own supervisor is a dope!"
Again, maybe you liked it when there was turmoil with the girls. When everything’s okay, things like this happen. And you're sure of it, you weren't staring. You weren't. And Yunjin just stands there, laughing at the chaos of it all.
"Guy like him probably wants the cafe to succeed."
"First they steal our customers, what, are they gonna steal our cafe cutie too!?" Eunchae cries.
"I'm not going anywhere!"
"Prove it!"
"I'm here! At Cozy's with you all! It's like my second home!" You're crying, grasping at anything to defend yourself, but you're not lying. It's one of your most genuine statements.
At the very least, they take it that way too. Eunchae smiles all big, Chaewon gets flustered, muttering something about how 'we like you too, I guess', and Yunjin just sits back, nodding.
"Listen, yeah she was fairly pret— err, I was just pretending to be a doting customer, you know, playing my role for the mission! But I'm here now. And I'm gonna help Cozy's win!"
They deem it truthful, and the focus is back on plans and action. The steps you're going to take to keep Cozy's afloat.
The effects of them opening are noticeable, yeah, but you're still getting customers. Eunchae even has to leave the kitchen where you were gossiping to deal with customers ("Unnie, please! I just served everyone, let me stay here for a bit longer!")
"Hey, why don't we talk to the owner?" Yunjin suggests. "You know, it's been pretty busy lately, I'm sure they'd let us spend some money for some improvements."
"Yeah, I was thinking of that," you agree. "What if we installed a sound system so we could play music throughout the store?"
"Oh, and we can add some plants, maybe a mirror and some shelves, something to liven the place up a bit?"
"Who is this owner anyway?" You ask.
It looks like a ghost punted a little ghost football through Chaewon's soul.
"What's wrong?"
"Definitely not," her face drops. “We aren’t asking the owner…”
"What, why?"
"It's out of the question!"
Yunjin sighs. "Well, if we don't have a budget, we might just fizzle out. Then BBS wins. If only we had rich friends."
"BBS?"
"Baked and Brewed Seoul."
"Oh," you sigh. "Well, unfortunately, we don't know anyone ri—"
You and Chaewon face each other. "Liz!" You say in unison.
"Liz? Who's Liz?"
"That girl that always comes in. We're like, kind of friends right? She loves this place. She might just invest." Chaewon grabs some fruit from the fridge to prep, indicating the decision has been made.
"She hasn't been here in a while though," you noted, unwilling to concede you know exactly where she lives, "are we just going to wait until she comes in again? Who knows when that will be."
Chaewon smiles. "Don't worry, my dear supervisor. We're Instagram friends!" She abandons the fruit, pulling her phone out, and with a couple of taps, she turns the phone to you and Yunjin.
[_chaechae_1]
Liz! So, we have some ideas for the shop. Would love to hear your opinions as a customer.
The response comes immediately.
[liz.yeyo]
Would love the hear them ;)
Come by tomorrow, you're boy friend knows where I live.
"Boyfriend?" Yunjin gasps.
"How do you know where she lives?" Chaewon (also) gasps.
"There's a space between boy and friend, thank you very much!" you (also also) gasp.
You don't really have a valid answer for why you know where she lives, other than she blindfolded and fucked you on her couch while telling you to think of Chaewon.
"Have you been there?" Yunjin asks curiously.
"Yeah, you cow, have you?"
"I, uhh, I may have walked by her place once."
"Walked past?"
"Y-yeah, just randomly."
Chaewon's lips go into a line, as if weighing your answer. "Fine," she eventually decides. "Take me there tomorrow."
---
"Well, we can't just barge into her house and ask her for a loan. That's insane! We need a plan."
"You should've told me that yesterday! I thought you had everything under control."
"You useless supervisor!" Chaewon jogs to catch up to you as you cross the street. "What were you doing last night, huh?"
"Budgeting! Exactly what you asked me to do!"
Chaewon's demeanor changes into something jolly. "Ehehe~ I took a bath and slept for 10 hours."
"I'm so glad," you say sarcastically, but it's anything but. It's the reason you put up with this supervisor job. If it means at all Chaewon can finally have her rests days after months of overtime, and hours working just to keep the store afloat, you'd take on 10 times the work. "Well, should we get her a gift then… rich people like gifts, right?"
"Everyone likes gifts."
"Yeah, but what if we bring her some pastries from the shop. That seems appropriate, no?"
"Yeah, actually. Not so useless after all, are you, Mr. Supervisor? We can stop by the store on our way."
"Yeah. Uhh, how do we approach asking her then? Just 'cause she's rich doesn't mean she'll give us a loan."
"Let's just appeal to the business woman in her."
"Is she a business woman? Last I checked—"
"Last you checked, what?"
"Err, nothing. Sure. We can frame it like, she can help scale the company. Like an investment."
"Great, so we figured out 'we're going to ask Liz to invest'. That's literally our whole premise."
"You were the one who suggested the business thing!"
"I say we just wing it!' Chaewon lights up. "I have a good feeling about today."
You on the other hand, couldn't shake the sinking feeling in your stomach, but maybe that was just Liz.
It's the first time you've seen Liz in a while, and you want to run away. Her piercing eyes find you, and that sly smile takes shape as her eyes scan you and Chaewon. You've always been conscious of you two around Liz, all the way back to your first time meeting her, when she walked in on you massaging Chaewon's back.
It doesn't help that her dimple has magic powers. Well, it's not like you have hard proof, but you're sure it's up to something.
She pulls Chaewon into an all too friendly hug, winking at you while her arms are wrapped around her, and you think, even though she's not in her elegant getups like she usually is - just a hoodie and some sweats right now - that maybe you don't have to worry. This is Liz. Her and Chaewon have always had some semblance of connection, maybe you could use that to your advantage when asking her to invest.
She brings you up to her penthouse, and the look of awe on Chaewon's face is similar to yours when you first saw it; the centrepiece fountain in the middle of her fountain, all the art pieces scattered around, the pristine marble floors. You feign the same shock trying to keep up with the illusion that you've never been here before.
She leads you to a room you've never been in before, a living room of sorts where she invites you to sit on a grand couch, more comfortable than any you've ever seen.
She sits on a closeby armchair. "So, how can I help my two favourite baristas?" all velvety and luxuriously.
You and Chaewon catch each others eyes, and with a nod, she stiffly places a box of desserts onto the coffee table between you. "I hear you like our chocolate mousse! We brought you some and a couple other things," Chaewon says, and it's slightly odd hearing her customer service voice outside of work.
She shakes her arms in excitement, opening the box. With the pleasantries out of the way, and sensing Liz is clearly in a good mood, you nudge Chaewon with your elbow. "We were also wondering, so uhh, yeah…"
"What?" Liz laughs, looking at you.
Shit, you're bad at this. And that damn dimple isn't helping you feel any calmer.
"What my supervisor means to say," Chaewon clears her throat, "is we want to… make Cozy's a better place."
Liz takes a bite out of a chocolate croissant, chewing slowly. "I think Cozy's is already a wonderful place." It's really quite genuine.
"Well, we want to make it better." Chaewon's demeanor changes into something more serious, and she leans forward. "But to do that— to do that we need money."
It's Liz's turn for a demeanor change, and you don't know if it signals something good. Her face straightens, she leans forward a bit like she means business.
"So, you're here for?" You've never seen Liz like this. She's usually smiling, using that dimple to control, but now, with her eyes are scanning as you ask her for her money, you think you'd rather have the dimple back.
"An investment," Chaewon says with equal conviction.
Liz's face remains, but underneath it, maybe in her eyes you can see amusement. Still, she leans back in her chair, crossing her arms. "And what exactly am I investing in?"
"Cozy's."
"Cozy's, huh. How much do you want?"
"40 million won."
Liz's eyes narrow. She shifts in her armchair probably worth double that. "That's a lot of money to invest in a small coffee shop. What do you make a month?"
"60."
There's a sort of tension in the air, and you don't know what to make of it. Whether it's a bad thing or a good thing, you don't know.
"The store, it's still been busy after that cake fiasco?"
"You saw that!?" you yelp.
Chaewon silences you with a hand on your shoulder. "It's steady now. But it's not enough."
Liz finally smiles. "See Chaewon, I love to invest. But not in businesses. In people—"
"We're good people to invest in."
Her dimple comes out even more now. "You, I can tell. You mentioned he was a supervisor now?" Liz nods to you.
"He is."
"And yet he's been sitting here, lost the whole time. Do you believe in him?"
Chaewon stands. "More than anyone."
The words take you by surprise. All the teasing and scolding Chaewon gives you, you never thought she'd afford you that level of praise.
"Then let's test it. Like I said, I invest in people."
"Invest in me," Chaewon asks. It's bridled with passion, a promise she knows she can fulfill. But it is evidently not enough.
"One person can't run a cafe. It takes a team, and it's time for him to prove himself. Mind if I speak with him alone for a while?"
Chaewon sighs, but turns to you, nodding with a confidence you're not sure you deserve.
"Make yourself at home, then. I'll come find you when were done."
The echoes of Chaewon's footsteps are like drums celebrating your end. You can feel beads of sweat form on your head. It's all up to you now, and you don't know what awaits you.
What awaits you is a smile. And then a laugh. And then that fucking dimple staring at you (have you mentioned you’re scared of her dimple?).
"Uhh, Liz?"
"Well, I was wrong. You two could get even cuter."
"What?"
"Don't you see?" she laughs, "this is perfect! I pretend to test you, decide 'yeah, you deserve the 40 million', and you become the hero!"
"Wait, what? So, you'll give us the money?!"
"Of course I will. You both are just so adorable for coming in here all nervous asking for 40 million. Hell, I'll give you 60!"
Your head is still woozy. "I— I don't understand, why'd you want to speak to me alone?"
Liz stands up, scooting lazily beside you. "Because then Chaewon will think: 'Oh, my supervisor is so reliable'!"
"Again with this! I told you, there's nothing going on with me and Chaewon!"
"Oh really?" She stretches the words, raising her eyebrows. "Didn't you admit last time that 'she's so damn perfect'? Specifically, perfect while you fucked her?"
Oh right, you told Liz you've had relations with both Eunchae and Chaewon. To be fair, you were blindfolded, scared, and more than a little turned on at the time.
"Ohhh, she's gonna be so excited when she thinks you nailed it! You might even fuck again~"
"What the hell is wrong with you!" you yell.
"Oh honey, a lot. I'm rich, remember?"
Realization suddenly hits you. Although, maybe her motives were a little bit… outlandish, you were still walking away with this with your coveted investment! "Oh, thank you Liz! I'll go get Chaewon and let her know."
"Uh uh uh~~" Liz wags her finger. "I wasn't lying when I said I invest in people." Her eyes flick up and down your body, and a hand slides into her hoodie pocket, taking out the same blindfold she used last time.
"Do you just keep that on you?" You yelp, recoiling backwards.
"Oh, fine, no blindfold. You know the rules though, remember?" she slowly crawls to you on the couch. "My name is the safe word, and no looking at me in the eyes. Unless of course, you don't want your money?" She says, curling her lips into an obviously feigned frown.
You lean back, crawling away. Fuck. This Liz girl set a trap, luring you back into her house, and then, you sprung it.
She springs on you, trapping you on the couch. You almost look her in the eyes. In fact, she's looking at you in your eyes, so you don't understand for the life of you why you're not allowed to do the same. You can feel her lithe body against you, and you remember how god damn tight she felt around your cock.
No, you're doing this for Chaewon. Yeah, you're so strong willed that you're going to fuck this girl for Chaewon. At least that's what you tell yourself when she leans in close and whispers: "I'm not wearing anything under this hoodie".
Her familiar citrusy and obviously expensive perfume hits your nose, but you don't pay much attention because she takes your lips in hers. You almost forget that you're doing this for Chaewon, because you accept them with reckless abandon.
Remember, this is Liz, though, so you're not stupid enough to think you're ever in control. Her tongue finds yours and there's nothing behind it, no pretense other than she wants to play with you.
She's in between your legs, pressing her hips against your growing cock when you buck up.
She detaches her lips from yours with a smirk. "Mmm~, someone's eager. Been a while for you and Chaewon? Oh, please, wipe that look off your face, I'm just teasing you, now let's get this out of the way," she says, lifting your shirt off of your head.
You moan pathetically, and you can only hope Chaewon has taken up Liz on her offer to make herself at home, and that she's not waiting outside the room, privy to all the noises you're making.
The thought is wiped from your brain however, when Liz, all sultry, looks at you and says: "would you like to take off my hoodie?"
This has all happened so fast, but honestly, after all the months in these salacious situations with these girls, you're used to it. You nod your head sheepishly.
She props herself up, taking your arms by the wrist and bringing them to the hem of her sweater. You almost look into her large inviting eyes, but stop yourself at the last moment.
You pull the garment up, a little too fast, and she slows you down with a hand on your wrist.
"Slow down, honey."
Actually, you'd rather make this fast, but you guess you've done the deed with Chaewon right next to you, so this isn't exactly the most precarious situation you've been in. You're too stunned to speak anyway, so you slowly lift the sweater off of her, revealing her silky white skin, climbing up to her impossibly pretty nipples, already hard.
The tightness of it all, her lithe form, it drives you over the edge. You lift it up, and like the sweater, you drop, limp, stunned at the girl in front of you.
She hangs over you, controlling smile still dictating you. Until, she closes the gap, tongue poking out of her mouth before she brings it to your nipple.
Your breath hitches in your mouth, and your hands instinctively go to grab her hair. You stop yourself, unsure if it's against the rules, but when her tongue flicks your nipple harder, sending pleasure through your chest, you grab it anyway.
She doesn't seem to mind, switching from nipple to nipple softly.
Your cock is straining in your pants, and Liz props herself up.
Even with her hair slightly frizzy, she looks divine, unflushed.
You, on the other hand, are huffing and puffing. She grabs your pants by the waistband, mirroring that slow, teasing way of undressing that she forced upon you, sliding it down until your stiff cock is revealed with a pop.
Maybe you were wrong about fucking Liz again, because by the look in her eye, she has no plans to give you anything you want.
"Ready to earn your money?" She doesn't say it maliciously, doesn't say it like you're some street whore, but it has the same effect, probably.
Her hand wraps around you, and it's a bit cold, but only because how fucking stiff and hot your cock is.
"So much precum, maybe I was right when I said it's been a while, hmm?" She's not right, but when she lathers the precum on her hand and brings her palm to lips, licking it, nothing but strangled moans escape your mouth.
Her hand is back on your member, now coated in her saliva. The feeling is indescribable, her strokes are practiced, measured, as if any misstep would cause her to lose control.
"Nngh." Her hand is working you to squirms, her thumb rubbing over your tip in careful motions.
It's getting faster, getting harder to remain still, so hard you're gripping probably two thousand dollars worth of sofa cushion in your hands and closing your eyes in focus.
Every stroke is dangerous, every stroke could be the last as your legs tense. You don't know if it's for this reason that her hand leaves your cock.
You gasp, sitting up and opening your eyes, and of course, the dimple is staring back.
You don't look her directly in the eyes (as per the rules), but you can tell in your peripherals that the controlled look in her eyes is waning, like some untamed beast lies beneath it. You know it does, you've experienced it before. Her hand is still wet with your precum, and she carefully takes her sweats off, positioning herself so your legs are entangled, and your crotches are just inches from each others.
There's a slight huff to her breath now too, and she sits up, facing you. You can practically feel the warmth of her temple as she sits on the couch, and without warning, her fingers, still wet, pierce her sopping pussy.
It's a fucking sight, seeing Liz fingerfuck herself an inch away from your own throbbing piece, but she doesn't let you stop.
"Keep— keep going," she huffs, taking her fingers out. She reaches over and slathers a bit of her own wetness onto your cock, before plunging her fingers back in. "Stroke your cock or you're never getting that money!"
You don't need to be told twice. Her legs are so smooth on yours, and when your hand wraps around your own cock, you can feel her legs shake.
"You're such a good little simp for Chaewon, aren't you? Stroking your cock like that so she can get what she wa- wants," she says. "Y-you must really love her!" The words come out all high and uneven, and she shakes again.
Your own hand is working violently, the sounds of Liz's wet pussy, the smell of her sopping cunt filling the air, it's too much.
You're slightly worried about how disheveled you two will look once Chaewon does return, but it's wiped as pleasure rips through your pelvis.
Your cock strains as you approach release, and you need to see more
"Don't do it!" she yells, convulsing herself, but still staring directly at you. The little space between you and her crotches is soaked wet, and you physically can't obey.
"F-fuck!" you moan, releasing a torrent of cum, but not before locking eyes with her. She looks shocked, bewildered even, but she's still rapidly fingering herself. Your cum flies in arcs, scattering not only on you, but on her. She too convulses as her release comes.
You collapse back onto the couch, catching your breath, but your moment of respite is short lived.
You think she's mad at first, the way her sweaty body appears over you muttering. "You looked me in my eyes."
She hovers over you, hair draping, and funnily enough this isn't the first time you think Liz is going to murder you.
"You said— you looked me in my eyes," she repeats. Before you can close yours, she wraps her hand around your head, forcing you to continue staring into hers.
Instead of the anger you expect, it's that same crazed look, the one that craved pleasure last time, only now it's present tenfold.
Her lips are back on yours, and this time it's different, she sucks on your tongue with abandon. "Why'd you look," she laments through abated breaths and sloppy kisses. "What, do you want me to fall in love?"
You barely mutter a broken response before she snarls at you. "You'll be punished for that," she says, the look in her eyes growing more lustful by the second. She shifts, mouth at your cock and licking up every drop of cum you've spilt.
And then she's back in your vision, and the rules be damned, she can't help but stare into your eyes. Every time you shift your vision, every time you so much as blink, she gives you a squeeze, so you remain, lost in her gaze. It's almost as bad as her dimple. Almost.
She climbs on top of you, eyes still locked. You can't see what's going on below your chest, but you feel a familiar wetness wrap around your cock. Immediately, it stiffens to full mast yet again.
She's ridden you before, but not like this. Finally, her eyes break from yours, and her supple body bounces on your cock. She screams out, turning back to pin you down but working her hips faster and faster.
Turns out, all eye contact does for Liz is turn her into even more of a slut.
She's not a crazy murderer, just a crazy horny rich lady. Cool.
Not cool. You chance pumping up into her as she bounces, but she pushes down on your chest, signaling you to stop. All you can do is sit there as she works to her own release on you.
It's probably coming soon, because her walls tighten around you, hugging, squeezing almost painfully as she quivers, collapsing on top of you.
Her body is shaking and light, and your hard cock is still lodged inside of her quivering pussy.
You wrap your arms around her form, ready to pump even more, but in a surprising burst of strength, Liz straightens up. That elegant look of control is back on her face, and you know even though you're still inside of her, pumping now could signal your doom.
The only sign she felt even an ounce of pleasure is her rumpled hair, and the slight pant in her breath. There's even a hint of disdain as she looks down upon you, slowly sliding up to free your cock. It's throbbing, practically bursting, and when she looks down and sees, her smile returns.
"I think we're done for today," she smiles, giving your member one last pump. "Get yourself in order so we can go let Chaewon know."
Fuck. Maybe you shouldn't have looked her in the eyes. You know how… moody you can get with blue balls. You make a mental note to jerk off later tonight so as to avoid any… repeat situations, but still, right now in the moment, you bemoan your release unhad.
You find Chaewon, twiddling her thumbs nervously in the kitchen. You silently hope she doesn't notice your unkempt hair, and although you've dressed and did your best to appear presentable, you feel dirty. It doesn't help that your cock hasn't fully softened.
She turns to you nervously when you find her.
Liz has this bit, 'to build the suspense', she says so you both walk in with heavy faces, until:
Liz smiles. "Congrats," she says. "Your supervisor just secured you a 60 million won investment."
The look on Chaewon's face is pure ecstasy, and she runs, no sprints towards you, arms outstretched, voice ringing in the air and jumps. You catch her, just to stop her from falling.
"I knew it, I knew I could trust you," she cries.
---
It's a pretty slow morning, which is nice. The coffee machine whirrs as it heats, the oven humming as cheesecakes and pastries bake.
It's supposed to be you and the new hire, but Eunchae texted the group:
Eunchaehey stupid supervisor, this new guy you hired has been staring at every girl customer that's walked in
[Ms. Manager (scary)]
What?
For real?
[Eunchae]
yeah…
[Yunjin]
now that you mention it… I'm pretty sure he hit on a customer while you were in the kitchen last week Chaewon.
I wasn't sure but…
[Ms. Manager (scary)]
Fire him.
Stupid supervisor hired another cow, huh.
So, it's just you opening. No matter, you came in early and you don't open for another 45 minutes.
You're experimenting with milk teas now, something to expand your menu, so you're pouring tapioca pearls into a pot of boiling water when a knock on the glass window rings out.
It appears to be a girl, wrapped in a hoodie to presumably protect against the early morning cold.
Your mind immediately darts to Karina. She always loved to get snuggled up in oversized hoodies, and your heart skips a beat (in a good or bad way, you don't want to deal with at the moment). But then, you realize, it can't be Karina. The girl in the window is nowhere near tall enough to be Karina.
What, just a customer then? You've dealt with this before, customers looking to come early. You ignore them and get to prepping, but she knocks again.
You see a smiling face you faintly recognize. It's warm, welcoming, friendly, all of the damn above of someone you'd let your guard down around, and she's holding a drink with the BBS logo stamped on it.
You shuffle over to the door quickly, confused but curious, and opening it:
"Hi, I'm Hanni! Your new neighbour!"
Small picture.
A/N:
Guys i used to yap so much about my chapters in authors notes but now I don't feel like it #DEALWITHIT
"Quiet," Joonie whispers as she opens the door and leads you to the lounge. Inside, Xinyu and Yuki are on a couch, one on each side, feet mingling in the middle. You sit down next to your girlfriend on the other couch.
Hwiseo is out cold; you zip her pink hoodie up, and pull her blanket over her chest. You breathe in deep, then clear your throat.
"So... uh, you guys enjoy the night out?"
"Yup," Joonie leans on the armrest next to you, "would've been better if you were there."
"He's here now." Yuki chimes in. "So why don't we get started?"
"Wait," you interject, "you guys are all incredibly drunk. We can talk in the morning once you guys sober up."
"He's right. It'd be no fun without Seo awake to watch anyways." Joonie puts a hand on your shoulder. You lean closer into Hwiseo.
"Fine. But that won't stop us from having some fun," Xinyu says, crawling across the couch towards Yuki.
She grabs Xinyu's cheeks and pulls her in for a kiss. The sounds are beautiful and they're clearly trying to put on a show for you. It's working, and you notice Joonie eyeing your growing erection. You slide Hwiseo's blanket over your lap. A clear smile forms on Joonie's lips, something you spot out of the corner of your eye.
"You know you can't keep playing hard to get, right?" Xinyu teases. "You'll crack eventually."
"Yeah he'll crack for sure," says Yuki, in between kisses. "Hopefully me first."
Xinyu takes this as a challenge, pushing Yuki off her and sits down on the couch on the other side of Hwiseo. She nuzzles herself under the blanket the two of you were sharing. Her hand grabs on to your girlfriend's. She puppets it above your bulge, then rubs softly, careful not to wake Hwiseo up. You can't stop her.
Yuki approaches, then ducks down near your feet. She lifts the blanket up, and crawls underneath, in between your legs. Joonie snickers.
Your girlfriend's hand (piloted by Xinyu's own) retreats, and Yuki's reaches for your waistband. Joonie helps lift you up, as the lower girl pulls your pants and briefs down in one swift motion.
You hear a faint voice from beneath you. "Fuck. Seo was right about his cock."
"Guys, I- we shouldn't-"
Joonie shushes into your ear, her breath cooling the heat from the other women. She leaves a kiss on your cheek, making sure to leave extra saliva. She whispers, "relax, just enjoy it."
You look down at the tented blanket, Yuki says, "don't worry, it's not even cheating. Just pretend I'm not here"
Xinyu adds, "yeah, and I'm not even touching you," as she positions Hwiseo's hand on your firm cock. She folds her fingers around it, slowly starting to slide up and down. Yuki reaches up, finding your balls, squeezing gently. This gets a gasp out of you, but Joonie covers your mouth, masking the noise.
"Quiet. You can wait to fuck us until your girlfriend's awake, but let's keep this our little secret for now," Joonie states, pulling away from the wet side of your face.
"What if I can't wait?" The back of Yuki's head under the blanket rises, then stops right in front of the tent. "It's just... looking at me."
The three hands slip away, and are replaced by a wet sensation, just at the tip. This elicits a moan from you, causing your girlfriend to stir, "babe..."
Joonie latches on to Hwiseo's shoulders. "Go back to sleep, Seo." She grumbles in her slumber before settling down.
The sensations resume, the wetness falling lower and lower down your shaft, three sets of fingers twirling around your base and balls, and Joonie caressing your hair. She leans over, covering your entire mouth with a sloppy kiss. You nip at her thin lips, before her tongue invades your mouth. You let her explore; something you've always wanted to happen, despite the nature of her relationship with your girlfriend.
"Shit, I'm leaking." Joonie pulls away, before going back to laying on the arm rest. She pulls down her pants, spreads her legs, then leans into you. She grabs your hand, leading it under her panties. "Feel how wet you made me?"
"Damn, you guys really wanted to do this?"
"Mmhmm.." Joonie moans as you start to work your fingers. It doesn't take much effort before you slide right in, thanks to her abundant juices.
Xinyu speeds up the pace of her strokes, in turn making Yuki bob her head faster. You're reaching the end. It didn't take long, considering the four beautiful women surrounding you stimulating each of your senses: Joonie whispering moans into your ear, penetrating eye contact from Xinyu as she puppeteers Hwiseo, Yuki effortlessly and relentlessly vacuuming you into her mouth. "Stop. I'm gonna cum."
They don't stop. Xinyu jerks as fast as she can without waking Hwiseo up. Yuki slobbers on your head. Joonie lays into you, her face pressed against yours, with three of your fingers tucked inside her. You freeze as Yuki pulls off. Xinyu gets too fast to bear. You signal with a moan that you're ready, and Xinyu pushes Hwiseo's hand down to the base, applying unbelievable pressure around your shaft. You erupt, shooting into the blanket, in a series of pulses. The warm fluid flows down the sides of your dick, covering your girlfriend's hand in its entirety. Joonie dons a massive grin, watching the blanket turn dark, soaking up your semen.
Yuki slowly rises from the depths, hair tousled. She folds her arms, rests them on Hwiseo's lap, then rests her chin on them. Xinyu speaks first, "just so we all agree, I was the one that made him cum, right?"
"The fuck?" Yuki blurts out, "I was the one sucking his soul out down here!"
Joonie holds up a hand, reminding the girls to keep their voices down. "Either way, now we know he can keep up with us." She rises, picking up the soiled blanket, replacing it with a fresh one.
"But.. Joonie didn't get to finish-"
"It's ok dear, we've got all weekend. But for now, it's time to rest up." Joonie leads the girls, still bickering quietly to their rooms, leaving you and your girl alone on the couch. You pull your pants up, and snuggle up to her, clocking out for the night.
---
Your phone buzzes underneath you. When you open it, you're flashbanged by Xinyu's pink panties, framed by her pale skin. A short message follows: 'still soaking.' You get up, tucking the blanket under Hwiseo, heading to the kitchen for a drink. You pour a glass of water, and start to head back to the lounge, but stop when you notice your raging boner. You certainly can't go back to sleep with it, so you take care of it the only way you know how.
So there you are, in the girls' dorm kitchen, with your pants down, dick fully exposed. And there she is, the cause of your erection, in nothing but her underwear, waiting for you. "Thirsty?"
"Ye- yeah," you cover yourself with both hands.
"Don't let me stop you." Xinyu pours herself a glass of water, and leans against the counter opposite of you. "Seriously. Back to it."
She nods in encouragement as she crosses her legs, squishing together her long thighs, letting her mound bulge under her panties. You slowly get comfortable again, gradually stroking yourself, as she smiles. She tilts her head back, taking a sip, then accidentally spills water all over herself. She lets out an exaggerated gasp, sighing, "oh no."
"Where are the towels? Let me help," you offer, but she's quick to refuse.
"Just keep doing your thing." Xinyu reaches behind her back, unlatches, and pulls her pastel bra off like she's used to quickly stripping. Her small boobs fall out as she drops the bra to the ground. She approaches, points to your shirt, asking, "do you mind?"
You shake your head, then she lifts your shirt over your shoulders, using it to wipe down her body. She dabs it around her neck, slowly working its way down her chest, cupping her breasts in it. "Better."
Now dangerously close, locked in eye contact, she reaches forward, replacing your hand on your dick. Your hand moves from your crotch to hers, fingers slipping underneath her garments. You proceed to mutually masturbate in the dim kitchen, leaning into eachother, trying to mask your moans of pleasure. "You weren't lying. You are still soaking."
Xinyu nuzzles herself into your neck, letting out a soft groan, her body starting the shiver. "Fuck, faster."
Your fingers speed up, spreading her folds, the pushing into her, repeating the process, increasingly easier, and increasingly wetter. Xinyu tightens her grip around you, grabbing her own slick, using it as lubrication on your boner. She wraps her free hand over your shoulder, her extremely fit legs losing strength, as she loses composure. You support each other as much as you can while you both approach climax.
The two of you simultaneously release into each other's hands. Xinyu lets out a whimper as she convulses, and you pull her closer, masking the noise with your skin. Xinyu slows down, you release what's left, and hold on to her for a moment.
Eventually she pulls away from your embrace, unsheathing your hand, and picks up your shirt from the counter. Down on her knees, she wipes up the mess, then takes your hand and leads you to their bathroom. Xinyu grabs a spare shirt and tosses it to you, but you're interrupted by a cough.
"Uh. What're you two doing?" Yuki questions.
"He got up for a drink, but spilled all over his shirt." Xinyu covers for you.
"Yeah. Sorry to wake you guys up," you say with a meekish smile.
Yuki retreats with a furrowed brow, and Xinyu gives you a discreet smirk before you all head back to bed.
---
"Ready?"
You nod, smile so wide it almost lifts up the blindfold. The first hand grabs on to you. A familiar warmth wraps around your dick. The long nails, the tight, affirming grip; this could only be one person. "That's my girl. Too easy."
"I'd kill you if you got that wrong." Hwiseo withdraws.
"Practice round," Yuki chimes in, "now it's gonna get harder."
"Give me your hand," Hwiseo demands, "who is this?"
She leads your hand to a set of abs. She flexes under your fingertips. Such a firm tummy could only be "Joonie."
"Mhm," Joonie confirms. She backs off for a second. "Next."
A light kiss lands on your lips. Just a peck, so not Hwiseo, she would have smothered you in affection. They're soft and plump, and taste like cherry. "Xinyu?" you guess with trepidation.
"Disappointing. Still me," Joonie says with a frown (even though you can't see it, it's definitely there).
Shortly after, you're shocked by another sudden kiss, this time on your tip. "Fuck."
The lips fall deeper, accompanied by a tongue. She ends with a quick slurp, and Xinyu replies, "there! Now you know what my lips feel like."
You feel a girl straddle your chest as you lay back in the bed. "Open up," Hwiseo commands from the sideline.
The softest breast you've ever felt lands on your tongue. You pull it in, circling around the nipple as you feel her harden in real time. "Yuki," you murmur, still sucking. She moans with delight.
"Let's go a little deeper now, huh?" Hwiseo pulls Yuki off, and whispers something to the girls. "Hand."
You comply, and Hwiseo holds it open as another mystery girl sets herself down on it. She helps your fingers find the hole, and you slip right in. You've felt this before. "Xinyu!"
"Uhh.. yeah. But why'd you get that so quick?" Hwiseo teases.
"I dunno, her uh.. height I guess." You cough.
"I am the tallest," Xinyu says, patting your shoulder knowingly.
"Okay okay. Time for the final test." Hwiseo withdraws, huddling with the group. "If you guess this one right, you can take the blindfold off. Fail, and you can't fuck me for a week."
"Deal." You lay back and she returns with something in her hand. Hwiseo grabs your cock, holding it still, while using the other hand to put a condom on the tip, slowly rolling it down. It hugs you, and you grow warm with anticipation. The girls shuffle around, then one of them crawls onto you. Her thighs on yours, teasing your monument.
Hwiseo sits behind you, pulling your arms above your head. "No cheating. Just you and her pussy. You ready?"
"So ready." You exhale, and she falls down. Using her hand to guide herself, it takes almost no effort before you wind up fully inside her. It's the most welcoming feeling.
After you're acquainted with each other, she starts to move, slowly grinding herself back and forth. You can hear her cover her mouth, holding back her moans. Hwiseo's grip tightens, a comfortable amount, as the mystery girl becomes more erratic. The other girls help lift her up, before slipping back down your shaft. A small whimper escapes her lips, but not enough to recognize the voice.
You have three choices: Xinyu, Yuki, or Joonie. The weight on your thighs gives you a hint; it's probably not Joonie, she's too light. These legs have heft, she's putting all her weight in this. She's pushing so much force back and forth, digging into herself, grinding onto you. You've felt the inside of Xinyu's pussy twice, but can't determine if this is her. You can't reach for their hair, can't even smell them from this far away.
A name rings out, "Y-Yuki?"
She slows down, making more sensual movements, then Hwiseo takes the blindfold off. There Yuki is, riding you with all her might. Her short hair swaying just over her shoulders as she oscillates. Your hands are freed, and your first instinct is to reach for her boobs; you couldn't get enough from your earlier taste.
"I told you I'd be the first to fuck you," she says with a smirk.
"You did say that. And, fuck- it's worth the wait," you manage to spit out, amidst hefty thrusts.
Hwiseo is watching from the sidelines, completely enamored, while Xinyu and Joonie help Yuki ride you. Thankfully you already busted twice today, otherwise you wouldn't last another second. Yuki's pussy is sliding effortlessly along your shaft, and with the other girls there it's almost too much to handle. But you can't get enough.
Yuki's pace quickens to an almost impossibly fast speed, as she nears completion. One of her tits is gripped by you, the other is falling into Xinyu's mouth, and Joonie is rubbing her clit faster than she can ride.
Finally, Yuki combusts, with a long moan, and slouches over. She's left whimpering as you pull out, condom slick with cum. Joonie pulls her off, then Xinyu replaces her. She doesn't give you time to react before she's bouncing on it too.
"Give him a second, will you, Xinyu?"
She's impatient as ever, but you don't get to watch for long before Joonie's on top of you. With one knee on either side of your head, she sinks down on to your face. You give her slit a lick from top to bottom, before parting her lips, and entering her. She slowly rocks back and forth while Xinyu pounds herself onto you.
You can hear Hwiseo above you making out with Joonie, as a small dribble of cum rolls down your cheek. Your tongue's already tired, but you keep going, pulling her into you, trying to reach every place possible.
After minutes of riding, Xinyu reaches the same high as Yuki, bursting onto your stomach, then slouching over with a satisfied moan. Just Joonie left now, last one standing (or sitting rather). With the help of Hwiseo, you manage to push her to her limit, both of you rubbing her clit, with you taking light nibbles at her flesh. You cup your mouth over her entrance as she erupts, squirt coving your face, flying onto Hwiseo.
Gush after gush pours out, until you need to push her off for air. Joonie rolls onto the bed, you gasp, and Hwiseo wipes the squirt out of your eyes. "Holy shit."
Your girlfriend's not done with you yet. She pulls you by the arms to the edge of the bed, standing you up. "Now my turn."
She lays back, and you position yourself at her entrance, as hard as you've ever been. After holding eye contact and a brief nod, she yanks the condom off, ever eager to get you inside her. You close your eyes, and she pulls you in. You slide deep into Hwiseo, something you've done a hundred times, and still feels just as amazing as the first. She's gasps at your entrance, then exhales slowly once you're inside. You follow suit, then open your eyes, in awe of the four girls in front of you. The bed creaks, following the motion of you driving your cock into your girlfriend, as the rest of them play with each other. You grunt at each thrust, while Hwiseo gasps. Her boobs are bouncing rhythmically, as your hands grip onto her meaty waist.
She doesn't take long to reach her breaking point, after edging herself while you fuck her three best friends. She lets you know she's there with her erratic gasps, and you up the speed as fast as you can.
Hwiseo shatters, her cum flowing out onto the bed. You don't stop. You keep railing her through her orgasm. Her head falls back, as her body shifts along the length of the bed. Fully soaked, she lets out one more moan before falling fully apart.
"Hnng, where do you want it?" you barely manage to get out.
"Mm tummy." Hwiseo stretches out, giving you the perfect canvas. She grabs her tits, one in each hand as you pull out, and ready yourself above her.
You let out a harsh groan as you shoot onto Hwiseo's stomach. Your ropes land on her, cum pooling at the creases in her muscles, and her belly button. You get lightheaded as you unload, but you give her everything you have left.
"So hot." The girls coo from the sidelines. "Paint her."
Xinyu's earlier escapades and the 'group session' drained you hard, but Hwiseo always finds a way to milk the most out of you. After you're done, you switch places with Yuki, laying next to Hwiseo.
"Next time I want it all. You're gonna shoot on me, okay?" Yuki requests, as she gathers your cum in her hand, cleaning up your girlfriend.
"Fuck. Please let there be a next time, babe."
"Of course. After seeing how well these girls treat you, who am I to refuse." Hwiseo gleams. "Three orgasms in twelve hours? You'll fit right in with us."
Your smile drops.
"Wait, three?" Yuki questions. "I knew Xinyu was up to something last night!"
Hwiseo grabs your shoulder from the side, "I was awake the whole time."
You breathe a sigh of relief.
"Even if I wasn't, waking up with a sticky hand is pretty damning evidence, you horny fuck."
"That may or may not have been part of the plan, but it was hot as fuck." Joonie snickers.
The five of you lay back on the bed. An interesting series of events, for sure, but one that hooked you in. You can't help the smile from growing on your face, just imagining what you'll do with this group next.
ᘏᘏ thirsty bunn thursdays
male reader x sohyun (triples) ※ more of my works on fanprose
“You sure about this, noona?”
“I’m sure. Just, take it slow. We have all the time in the world.”
Perfection greets you as she’s on her back in the middle of her own bed. The peonies you brought her as a gift for graduating college are in a vase on the dresser; twenty-four stems crammed in, the blush and white ones leaning over the rim. You wanted her room full of them.
Golden hour has come in through her window and it’s catching her face and the white slip dress she opened the bouquet in.
“Sohyun-noona.”
“Yes?”
“Can I take this off?”
“Of course.”
You slip the straps off her shoulders. Her dress falls to her waist. She’s bare from the waist up.
The sun on her bountiful chest is the last thing you ever needed to see. You think you might cum without being touched by just staring at it. You stand at the foot of the bed and look at her and you cannot understand what you are seeing. Her tits are bigger than you imagined and you have explored that visual in your head so many times. The skin between them swallows light like no other; cleavage as deep as Mariana’s Trench.
Her nipples pink as the cherry blossoms of spring, erect like thorns from roses, and you have to grip your own thigh to stop yourself from doing something stupid.
“Stop staring.”
Words refuse to come out of your throat.
She laughs, soft as the fields of cosmos you used to play in when you were both young, embarrassed. “Come on, stop it.”
“I can’t—”
“You can’t what?”
“I can’t stop staring. I’m sorry, noona. I’ve been with you for most of my life and I’ve never noticed.”
“Come here.”
You approach her. You climb onto the bed and you put your face into her neck before you do anything else, because her neck smells like her, and you breathe in for a long time, and your brain malfunctions.
“Sohyun-noona.”
“Yes, my dear?”
“You smell like flowers in early spring, the first ones, the wet ones.”
“Oh, how romantic.”
“I want to put my face on every part of you. I want to know what your skin smells like from your ear to your ankle.”
“That tickles.”
“I know.”
You kiss her neck. The skin there is so soft you make a sound in your throat without meaning to. You kiss her shoulder, the bones of it. The hollow at her clavicle that you have looked at across the library table for years. You kiss the inside of her wrist that has rested on a textbook in front of you, and your cock is so hard in your pants, thinking becomes a chore.
“Be careful,” she breathes. “I bruise.”
“Good.”
“What?”
“I want to leave marks on you. I want you to find them tomorrow on the plane and think about my mouth. Please tell me I can.”
“…yes, of course you can.”
You suck on the place between her shoulder and her neck until a deep red spot blooms there. The sound she makes resembles the birds that flock around your garden; small and melodic. You feel her soft thighs shift on the bed below you. You stop and look at her and her eyes are already wet and her cheeks are red.
“You’re insane.”
“You make me insane.”
You move down. Her chest is in your face now and you cannot believe it is real. You take one nipple into your mouth and your eyes roll back. Intoxicating you like a poisonous nectar you’re willing to die for. You suck and you taste every note of musk, and skin, and scent of her that translates to numerous neurons activating and your tastebuds firing off signals that it has never transmitted before.
The tenting arousal under you is starting to hurt. Her hands find your hair and she gasps. You give her tit the time you have spent fantasising about it, which is a fuck ton. You feel her arching off the bed, she’s trying to push more of herself into your mouth and you of course let her.
You move to the other side, give that pillowy-goodness the same amount of attention and time. You spend so long on her tits that her hand goes from gripping your hair to stroking it, slow, like she’s the one trying to comfort you.
“You’re going to be here all night,” she breathes, heavy and labored.
“Oh, that’s the plan, noona.”
“Oh god.”
You move down further. Push the slip off her hips and it falls to the floor and now you can see her fully and you have to close your eyes for a second because the sensation is too much now. You open them. She is the most you have ever seen. You kiss the soft slope of her belly and you bite, not hard, just enough to feel it, just to know what her skin gives like, and she makes a lovely noise.
“Did you just try biting me?”
“Yes and I’m not done.”
You bite her again. You kiss her hipbones. You drag your nose down the line where her thigh meets her hip and your nose is full of her flowery scent and you cannot stop your hips from grinding into the mattress. You are still fully clothed but your cock has been leaking in your pants.
“Ms. Park Sohyun.”
“Yes, baby boy?”
“I’m going to be eating you for a while. Do you understand that?”
“For how long?”
“An hour or so, maybe more.”
“…okay.”
“Now spread those legs.”
She spreads her legs and you stop breathing for a moment.
Her cunt smells like flora in early spring and you can’t get enough of it. You shove your face there and you breathe in and you don’t come up for air for so long she has to ask if you’re still alive.
“Are you okay down there?” She asks while being almost breathless herself.
“I am doing better than okay, noona.”
“Can you still breathe?”
“I can replace this with oxygen for all I care.”
You lick her. You taste her and your eyes roll back once more. You growl from the ecstasy that lands on your tongue. She tastes like something you would walk a hundred miles for just to taste again. You lick her a second time and you start drooling uncontrollably. You don’t care, you stop trying to be a person and you let the animal inside you free.
“Oh my god. Oh my fucking god, you’re—”
“What?”
“You’re so good, you’re shaking.”
“I know.”
You stay there. You learn the topography of her folds with your tongue and find the treasure that sits atop of her cunt that makes her hips lift, and when you find it you make a small triumphant sound into her body and her thighs squeeze your head. You suck, you taste, your saliva mixes with her nectar and you stay there.
She cums and her whole body violently shakes from the intense sensation. Her hand flying to her face to muffle her moans.
You continue.
“Wait! Wait.”
“I told you I’ll be here for a while.”
“Oh god.”
You keep going, you lick the parts of her that are still trembling. You suck the small place that is now so sensitive you swear she starts hiccuping because of it. You drink the honey like it’s the only sustenance you have left on planet Earth. You think about the rest of your life having to taste anything else and you almost lose it from sadness.
She comes the second time louder, with both hands in your hair, pulling.
“You’re going to kill me.”
You make her cum a third time before she can catch her breath. You’re not doing it to take care of her anymore. You’re doing it because you cannot stop. The sun has dropped lower and blue hour covers the sky. The light on her stomach now coming from moonlight and you admire her like she is the most beautiful thing ever conceived in this reality. Words can’t justify how perfect she is.
“When you’re done with your studies, will you visit me?”
“Of course, noona. I’ll find a way to work near where you are.”
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
She goes silent for a long time. Then she takes your wrist and pulls you in for a long messy kiss. Your tongues intertwine as she tastes herself from your tongue.
You break the kiss, and you lower your mouth to her again.
comment an idol you’d want featured on thirsty bunn thursdays and I’ll feature them in the next installment. thirsty bunn thursdays are now also on fanprose.
Domestic Drabble feat. Sullyoon
Smut
Triangle Offense
Read on Fanprose!
“I don’t see how this is a punishment for me, Yoona.”
Aside from your lower extremities being exposed to the elements, you make a good point. With the way Sullyoon explained the ‘punishment’, it feels more like the opposite.
“Well Oppa, it’s less of a punishment for you and more of a reward for me.” Sullyoon says with a smirk as her own bottoms are discarded. “Now sit down.”
You follow her order, sitting down on her gaming chair. Just as you get comfy with the leather making contact with your bare skin, sullyoon suddenly grabs your shaft. After a few quick pumps to get your blood running, she turns her back towards you, guiding your length into her entrance before she sits down on your lap. In one swift motion she buries you deep inside her, making you both moan in sync.
“Fuck that’s the spot.” Sullyoon moans. “Now just stay still Oppa, you’ll be like that until I’m done playing.”
True to her word, Sullyoon opens up Overwatch and starts playing, all the while your length is being cockwarmed deep inside of her.
With nothing to do, you rest your chin on her shoulder as Sullyoon leans back against you. Your arms wrap around her waist instinctively as she continues to play. Every so often, you would whisper to her some advice:
“There’s a guy on your left.”
“I think their tank is flanking you.”
“Someone’s waiting for you in the corner.”
“You should get to your healer.”
“I told you there was someone to your right.”
“Oppa!” She shouts, “I don’t need a backseat driver! Just sit down and keep quiet while I play!”
You raise your hands in response, letting her go back to her game before your arm wraps around her waist again.
For a few minutes, you follow Sullyoon’s instructions, silently watching her play while you’re balls deep under her. As you start to get bored, a light bulb goes off in your head. A naughty plan starts to form, and you can’t wait to enact it.
Kegels are a guy's best friend.
Or so you’ve read.
Helps with stamina, virility, also increasing length according to some sources. Also helps with what you have in store for Sullyoon.
You manage a controlled twitch while inside of her, and she definitely notices. A slight shudder goes through her body. Her hand shakes, making her in game camera nudge to the right. She doesn’t call you out yet, so you remain silent. After a minute, you do it again, and she reacts again. You do it again, this time only thirty seconds. Then again after fifteen. Soon, you’re just constantly twitching inside of her, each one having you rub against her walls. She still doesn’t say a word, but the subtle moans she tries to disguise as coughs lets you know it’s getting to her. That is, if the jolts throughout her body didn’t. All it takes is one random twitch that has you rub the right area, making her moan and shake in your hold.
“Oppa…” Sullyoon whispers with a heavy breath.
“If you want me to stop, Yoona, just say it.”
She doesn’t say a word. She tries to continue playing, but her eyes keep darting back towards you, waiting for your next move.
As much as you want to keep up the suspense, you decide to vindicate her patience. Your hands start moving, one traveling down to her thigh, the other sneaking under her zipped up hoodie. Both your hands find her bare skin, rubbing and kneading her thigh and waist. She doesn’t bother hiding her moans anymore (thank god she has her mic muted), but she still tries to put up the facade of focusing on her game. A futile attempt, since your teasing eventually has her break down.
Sullyoon’s arms start to relax, falling away from the keyboard and mouse and to her sides as you continue to tease her. The whole time, you’ve been letting your hot breath linger on her nape and shoulders, an added stimulation that you hope would finally take her over the edge. Your hands tease her even more. On her thigh, you massage slowly going up from her knee to just under her core before you abruptly go back down to her knee. For her waist, you build up your movements, getting close to the hem of her tank top before retreating. It causes her to get restless in your hold, desperate for your touch.
“Oppa…”
“What’s that, Yoona?”
“Oppa… please…”
“I need to hear you say it, Yoona.”
Sullyoon pauses briefly before she turns her head to you, showing her pleading eyes.
“Please make me feel good, daddy.”
You could never say no to her.
Your right hand finally leaves her thigh, sliding over her outer folds up and down before you start rubbing her enlarged clit in circles. Your left hand breaches her flimsy top, finding her soft mounds in your grasp. You knead and massage her tits, holding on to her soft flesh, letting her hardened nipples dance in the spaces between your fingers before you start pinching and tugging on them. The combination of the two stimulations has Sullyoon moaning even louder, not a single care in her body to bother hiding them anymore. Her body melts into yours, her head resting on your shoulder, her arms and hands weakly trying to reach behind her and grip on to you. She’s squirming— shaking in your hold. You could feel her walls start to flutter around your length.
It amazes you how you managed to turn Sullyoon into a moaning wreck without even a single thrust into her. Just a few twitches along with your hands working on her clit and tits.
Moans and shrieks start ripping from Sullyoon’s throat at a higher volume and quantity as you bring her closer to her climax. Her inner walls get even more active, letting you know that she’s just barely over the edge. Your hands continue working on her clit and tits as you decide to add one last stimulant to push her over the cliff. You use your chin to pull down her hood, along with pushing aside her hair before you find the soft skin of her neck. You let your hot breath be the only thing making contact for a few moments before you finally move in. Your lips make contact with her soft skin, kissing it, sucking on her soft flesh before—
“Oh fuck! I’m cumming! Daddy– fuck! I’m cumming!”
Sullyoon starts quivering in your hold, but you don’t stop playing with her clit and tits. You continue working her through her high as her walls start to violently contract around you, her juices gushing around your length and soaking both your thighs and her chair. You’d be lying if you said that it wasn’t edging you close to your own high. You continue to suck on her neck, marking her for god knows the how many-eth time, kissing on the bruise and licking it with your tongue. The moans and expletives coming from her mouth eventually devolve into whimpers, whispers of your name.
When she comes down from her climax, she melts in your embrace. From her reflection on the small mirror on her desk, you can see her face in complete euphoria, her hooded glassy eyes matched with a blissful smile. Labored breaths and whimpers escape from her mouth as she rests on your body. Under her whimpers, you can hear her whisper a singular plea:
“More.”
Fuck it. You pull off her headset and toss it on her table. You reach towards her desk, closing overwatch’s window before shutting down her PC.
You slowly stand up, Sullyoon still in your embrace, your length still deeply buried into her sopping cunt, and make your way towards the bed.
You’re more than eager to grant her wish.
She may have gone down in rank that game, but the two of you stayed up all night.
Yeojin’s pressed flat against the hood of the car, nothing’s holding her there of course, nothing but her own eagerness for what you’re about to do to her, for when you get into one of those moods.
“It’s time for your daily inspection.”
“But you already ‘inspected’ me last night!” Yeojin whines, kicking her legs up cutely.
“I said daily, didn’t I? You can’t expect me to not inspect you when you’re dressed like that.” Yeojin’s is wearing minimal livery, the porcelain smoothness of her skin revealed to maintain minimal weight.
“Now, car off.” You place a hand over her mouth, and Yeojin is docile, arms spread wide across the hood of the car.
You examine your tiny ride, and spot a little “dent” on her thigh.
“What’s this?” You run a finger over it, and Yeojin gasps.
“O-Ow, I don’t know, I think you grabbed me too hard last night.”
“Did I? I guess that’s understandable, a ride with so much mileage is bound to get a few dings and scratches.”
“Are you calling me old?!”
“No, I’m calling you poundable.”
“That’s more like it.” A firm press on her back is enough to get Yeojin to shut up again, and you start stripping her bare, pulling on the zipper of her tiny shorts first.
You leave her panties on for now, examining the little groove between her legs—from experience you know that she’s grippy, and that little groove is why.
Yeojin whines when you leave her half clothed, but you’ll get to enjoy her bare frame shortly.
"Come on, time to inspect the airbags.”
As soon as you pull the tube top off her she’s teasing you, arms pressed together to make sure her airbags are as big and bouncy and “shock-absorbing” as possible.
“Well, what do you think?”
“I think it’ll need a more thorough inspection.” Yeojin coos as you squeeze one tit, then the other, their softness a contrast to how hard you are getting.
“Maybe you’ll need to crash into them to really feel their effects.”
“Oh there’ll be plenty of testing, turn back around.” Yeojin shivers a little as she bends back over the car, and you place her top under her chest to make it a little more bearable.
You pull down her panties, revealing that her “tire” is not only well grooved and grippy, but also a slick one, used to strong forces and high speed racing.
You slip a finger in to check her pressure, and yes, it’s high.
“Hnngh oppa…” As your finger slides out, it’s coated in fluids, some of it dripping to the floor.
“Hmm, my little ride is leaking, I should check that.” You use one, then two dipsticks to check your ride, and confirm that it is leaking, quite profusely at that.
“That’s not good, I’m going to need something to seal up the leak.”
“Or a plug perhaps? A thick and long one might do the trick!” Yeojin chirps up.
“Maybe, I only have one around though, I wonder if it’ll be a tight fit.”
“Only one way to find out.” Not so subtly Yeojin has reached around, pulling on her own cheeks and spreading her hole a little bigger.
A clink of your belt, a drop of your pants, and you’re rubbing your tip against Yeojin’s leaking cylinder.
“I’m not sure it’ll fit—”
“Stop teasing and just fuck me already!” You plunge your crankshaft deep into Yeojin in one stroke. “Oh hnngh…” The purr of her engine only spurs you on, and it’s time to take a test drive on your ride.
The car rocks ungently, and Yeojin might be picking up another bruise or two on the next inspection (you’ll be sure to note them down on her checklist) with how hard you’re gripping her hips—you’re making sure she doesn’t smash into the car and actually hurt herself, but also ensuring that she’s being pistoned into at maximum force each thrust, making her see sparks behind her freerolling eyes.
“So fucking tight!” you growl, testing Yeojin’s suspension, making her ass jiggle as she bounces off your hips each time. “Come on, up you go.” She whimpers as her feet leave the ground—with the car hood as support you wrap an arm under and around Yeojin’s tiny waist and lift her hips, giving you a more direct angle to fuck straight at her womb.
“Oppa no, oh fuck! Hnngh I’m—” Anyone looking from behind could easily tell what’s going on as Yeojin’s legs suddenly go taut, toes pointed straight down as there’s a sudden stream of fluids leaking from between her legs. Said legs then relax, beginning to dangle and splay as you continue to pound her.
Yeojin’s boneless against the hood, rocking in rhythm with the car as the test drive continues. She barely registers the gear change, her leg being raised to the side and rested against the hood, opening her up for a deeper inspection. She definitely feels it soon after, the seal to her womb being tested by your constant knocking.
“Fuck Yeojin!” Finding your ride to be satisfactory, you groan and seal Yeojin up tight with cum, flooding her core. Yeojin combusts with you, redlining and ensuring the compression ratio stays as high as possible for maximum pleasure.
You pull out, and it is time for your second favorite test to run on Yeojin, the emissions test. You rub Yeojin’s eject button and plug her exhaust pipe, keeping her feet off the ground and making sure she can’t squirm away. There’s no more rev and pep in Yeojin, and at a certain point she simply pops.
“Ahh oppa!” A jet of squirt and cum spray out of her, and Yeojin’s a moaning mess as she gushes and releases all the slick you’ve teased out of her alongside all the cum you’ve pumped into her. Streams of fluids leak down her legs uncontrollably, dripping off her toes as she continues to dangle on the hood of the car.
You make a mental note in your head:
Inspection complete, schedule another one for tomorrow.
A/N: Something quick and dirty for those pics, thanks for reading!
ᘏᘏ thirsty bunn thursdays
male reader x gowon (loona) ※ more of my works on fanprose
“What? You knew exactly what this was going to be.”
Gowon’s right, your co-worker calls for a ‘lunch break’ and doesn’t go to the three fast-food places within five minutes walking and hops in her car. It means one thing.
You are her lunch.
“I’m just surprised, that’s all.” You mutter through gritted teeth, she looks up with your cock half way in her mouth with an inquisitive look that requests further explanation. “You’ve shown very little interest in me outside of the occasional project and now you are blowing me, strange really.”
She frees her mouth, letting the thick globs of built up spit fall down onto your tip before stroking it across your length. “Well, you’re hot– never gave me much of a reason to talk to you though.” She says it like that explains this sudden jump.
Alas, she takes you deeper, sucks harder and stares at you like a piece of meat. “Isn’t this a terrible idea? You don’t have tinted windows, we are in the parking lot of the place we work. If the boss sees.”
The scowl is sharp.
“Are you going to let me suck this dick or are you going to keep whining and worry?” She’s visibly annoyed, “Or do I need to fuck the complaining out of you? We’ve got half an hour left, you are either cumming in my mouth or in my cunt. Though I’d make your choice quickly.”
You stare at her, mouth dry.
“How can someone who speaks so boldly to your superiors crumble the minute you have a girl waiting?” She mocks, still stroking you the look in her eyes. You are helplessly leaking pre-cum, completely at her whims and you can’t make the decision.
Gowon luckily is more than willing to.
“Get in the back of the fucking car, now.” You scramble, she gets on top after one more sample of your taste. Her pussy’s so pretty, wet and rubbing nicely against the side of your cock.
She sinks down and the first thing you think is trying not to bust, hold it as she wastes no time getting to work. Normally she hates working through her lunchbreak, this must be the exception. “Fuck, okay.” Gowon’s clothed tits are so close to your face, this angle has practically folded you into a lawn chair.
Instead of saying anything you lay there and take it, every thrust into her tight warmth. It’s heaven that melts away the worries in your mind, the only things left is the urge for her to get off and for you to get off. “You are so fucking deep, gosh.”
There’s room to contribute to this duo project.
So you join, thrust up into her– hit all the right spots as she slams down. The breathy moans are hopefully contained inside this car, though anyone could see Gowon’s bare ass and her getting railed. Though if you get caught and fired they’ll be understaffed and all hell will break lose.
Gowon’s body seizes, comes with a moan dying in her throat. Getting tighter, sucking you up and trying to milk every last drop out of your balls. Though you don’t finish in her, sliding out as she looks confused. Yanking her head down and fucking her mouth, following through on what she wanted earlier. If you are her lunch she deserves to be fed, flooding her mouth with your load while you moan the loudest you’ve ever moaned.
She recovers first, slipping her attire back on and straightening her now completely ruined hair. “That was so fucking good.”
“Yeah, wow.”
“Maybe be a bit more assertive and you can see how truly good I can be.” She winks, looking around. Nobody was around, thankfully. “I need to go clean up before lunch ends, so do you.”
“Indeed.”
You have your pants back on just about when Gowon opens her car door, if the intense smell of sex wasn’t lingering nobody would ever know what you two just had. No time to shower though, “See you at work, maybe we can go for a smoke break later.”
That fucking wink, again, straight to the throat.
“We’ll see.”
comment an idol you’d want featured on thirsty bunn thursdays and I’ll feature them in the next installment. thirsty bunn thursdays are now also on fanprose.
"Yah, why did you pick Moira, I was going to play Moira!"
"Learn another character you one-trick pony!"
"You learn another one!"
"I am, this is my second, you have to be able to play multiple characters you know?" Sullyoon remarks snidely.
"No I have to maintain my rank! 1-on-1 me for it!"
"No, your rank can’t drop any lower anyways, pick faster."
The mic goes quiet, Sullyoon hears a chair rolling, and into her view comes Noh Yunah.
"Yoona-yah~" The aegyo is immediately deployed. "Can't you let me play Moira?" It was overbearing, a little cringe, but also very cute, and also something Sullyoon was used to.
"Not this round. You can play Moira next round," she responds curtly.
"I want to play this round..." Sullyoon clicks her tongue as Yunah forces herself into Sullyoon's lap, and Moira dies immediately. This time, it is truly PEBCAK rather than skill issue.
"Are you not going to move?"
"No, I'm gonna disturb you!"
"Nothing you do can distract me." But Sullyoon know that's not going to last, in fact, it was precisely what she wanted. She feels Yunah's hand squeeze her thigh needily.
Sigh. What a wonderfully failed bootcamp.
It was supposed to be a "bootcamp", a time for the two of them to hone their Overwatch skills together as '04 friends. They should get along—Yunah was Bae, if she played Overwatch, and Sullyoon was Minju, if she played Overwatch! They got their own private suite and Diamond-tier setups for their Bronze-tier skills. They could bond and talk about shared experiences in their groups and in game. It was perfect, except for one problem:
They both played the same character.
Cue the arguing, the bargaining, the bickering. It was hellish, they couldn't duo together and ended up playing ranked solo, shouting over each other in their respective comms. You need to play someone slightly better than you to improve, so they couldn't even 1-on-1 to improve. Things got to a boiling point.
Then it got physical. Yunah tried to grab at Sullyoon's mouse, not letting her pick Moira, and Sullyoon fought back, grabbing Yunah's wrist.
"Let go!" Sullyoon warns.
"No, you let go, let me play Moira!"
Yunah forces herself into Sullyoon's lap, trying to physically block her from playing. She straddles Sullyoon's, facing her to block her vision as the current Moira player bobs her head to try and get around Yunah. It doesn't work, Yunah can still hear the gameplay behind her, so she does the only thing she can think of in the moment.
Yunah kisses Sullyoon, a firm press on her lips. She sees Sullyoon staring at her as she pulls back, and her own eyes widen at what she has just done. She kissed Minju once before during that pepero game, but that was by accident, nice as it was. This was intentional, and Sullyoon's non-reaction scares her. Eyes boring into her own, Yunah looks down and away, drawn to Sullyoon's lips, they were juicy, firm, she wouldn't mind kissing them again—
"What are you doing?"
"I-I don't know, sorry, I—" Yunah tries to get off Sullyoon, only to find Sullyoon's hands on her hips, holding her in place, when did they get there?
Before she can make another thought Sullyoon's face is suddenly too close to hers, eyes closed, and Sullyoon's kissing her back. Frustration over the arrangement had boiled over into frustration of a different sort, a frustration that at least has a solution, a frustration that can be… Released. As Sullyoon pulls away Yunah is daring, gently sucking on her lower lip and—
"Mmmm..." The low timbre of Sullyoon's voice sends a thrill down Yunah's spine, and Sullyoon dives back in to continue the kiss, hands now more daring, wrapped around Yunah's back, pulling her closer and forcing her to spread her legs more. A hand goes to her neck, and without thinking Yunah tilts her head, leaning into Sullyoon's sweet lips—she couldn't help but stick her tongue out, she had to taste Sullyoon. Her own hands dive into Sullyoon's hair, and Sullyoon's purr of satisfaction rumbles through Yunah.
"Sullyoon—" Yunah's words snap Sullyoon out of it, and the hand around her neck jerks away. No!
"Yoona, call me Yoona."
"Y-Yoona." It's a little weird, using her own name, and it leaves Yunah's lips as a squeak. She takes a deep breath and continues. "Yoona, it's okay, I want this too." She slips a leg between Yoona's legs, allowing herself to sink fully on to a thigh...
"Hnngh..." A soft moan, and Yoona's swallows her heart back into her chest—Yunah's fully soaked through her shorts! Yoona stays still as Yunah goes on the aggressive, placing her hands on Yoona's shoulders as she leans forward, grinding herself against Yoona's thigh. It begins to get messy, the sound of soft squelching and sticky fabric beginning to fill the room. Yoona grips the handrests of her gamer chair hard—she has to move soon, else she's liable to stain the chair herself.
A shiver runs through Yunah when she feels Yoona's hands on her waist, holding her still. She was shockingly close, and Yoona kind of edged her there, but she did not mind as Yoona's husky voice whispers in her ear.
"Do you want to lie down for a bit?"
And that's how Yunah found herself in Yoona's bed for the first time, a gap of eleven days in their birthdays culminating in the space of eleven millimetres separating them right now. Yoona wasn't domineering, but she was firm in what she wanted, a hand locking Yunah's wrists above her head. Yoona isn't sure if that's what Yunah wanted, but she has a feeling that Noh Yunah isn't able to say "No Yoona" right now.
Mostly on account of Yunah tongue twisting around her own.
Despite the inability to move her arms, Yunah makes up for it with movements below the belt, legs twined around one of Yoona's, subtly urging her to push her knee up between her legs. When they finally have to break the kiss their chests are heaving, cheeks flushed in arousal.
"Y-Yoona, I really want it." Yoona finally pushes her knee up into Yunah's gap, and she gasps, throwing her head back. "Oh fuck it's thicker than my pillow!" Yunah flushes red when she realizes what she said. "I-I mean—"
"Yeah? And what do you do with your pillow?" There's a devious grin on Yoona's face, and she slides an actual pillow under Yunah's back, giving her an angle to work with. "Show me."
There's no room for further thought from Yunah—already edged once unintentionally, she begins to grind herself on Yoona, smearing her juicy thigh with Yunah's own slick. Yoona's eyes are glued below, watching the dark spot on Yunah's grey shorts grow and spread. Yunah's breaths get shorter and shorter, her core burning as she tries to rub against Yoona harder and faster.
"Oh god yes!" A hushed gasp of relief, and Yunah arches her back, pressing her core deep against Yoona's thigh as she lets go, pleasure rolling through her body, wrists twitching in Yoona's hold. A strand of hair sticks to her sweaty forehead, and she brushes it away when she realizes that Yoona has let go of her—god she needed that!
When the high drops off Yunah realizes why Yoona has let go—she's fidgeting, hands playing with the knot of her sweatpants, as if eager to get started on herself, but unsure how to bring it up to Yunah that she wants her turn on "Moira".
Except, you know, "Moira" is code for getting off.
So Yunah just has to take the initiative. She reaches for Yoona's sweatpants, and the hands fall away, as if to let Yunah take the lead. She stands up to let the sweatpants fall off her, but to Yoona's surprise, Yunah tells her to keep standing, pulling her panties down to her knees instead. In her sitting position Yunah's right between Yoona's legs, and she leans in, planting a tentative kiss on her mons.
"Ah!" Whatever Yoona had expected from Yunah, it wasn't that.
"Is that okay?"
"I— Yes." Of course. Yunah's just as dizzy as Yoona, smelling the frustration coming from her. She's so close she can taste it, and so Yunah licks, sticking her tongue out tentatively and brushing it against Yoona.
"Ahh oh my god!" Her knees buckle, and only Yunah's strength keeps Yoona from causing an accident, hands on her hips keeping her upright.
"Here." Yunah lies down again, allowing Yoona to fall to her knees, planted on either side of Yunah's ears, allowing her easy and safe access to Yoona's leaking pussy.
"Have you done this before?" Yoona asks as Yunah tilts her head forward, inches away from licking her again.
"Me? Er no..." Just imagined it with— Never mind! She dives in and is rewarded with a sharp gasp from Yoona and a few drops of slick—it is utterly addictive, and Yunah plants her hands on Yoona's hips, forcing her down on her face, making sure she can't squirm away as Yunah has her fill.
"Guhnngh!" Yoona's making unidol-like noises as she's eaten out. Yunah's tongue feels nothing like her own fingers, or toys, or her— "Hmmmm!" Yoona's back is just as curved as Yunah's earlier, hands pressed against the sheets as she leans forward, putting more of her weight on Yunah's mouth. She begins to jerk and twerk, falling to her desires as she grinds on Yunah's face. She's so close, she just needs to rub her clit and— Her fingers find something else, and Yoona grabs at it.
"Mmm!" It is Yunah's turn to moan as she feels Yoona grab her scalp, tilting her head and using her. Without Yoona on top of her, Yunah's face would look pornographic—her tongue sticking out of her mouth, face slack, eyes blank. But alas no, only Yoona gets to feel that expression, feel Yunah's tongue rubbing all over her slit, trying to get that perfect tongue to just flick over her clit... There!
"Ahh yes there, yes there!" Two more violent jerks of Yunah's head against her needy pussy, and that's enough for Yoona to cum, snapping her hips forward and letting herself cover Yunah in squirt. She humps and bounces lightly on Yunah's face, looking for the little jolts of pleasure left in her orgasm as she comes down from her high.
"Nngh Y-Yoona, I can't breathe!" She quickly moves away, and between her violent jerks earlier and the clumsy movement of her knees she's almost knocked out Yunah several times.
"Sorry! Are you okay?" She certainly did not look okay to Yoona—her makeup is running, her face is covered in slick, and her hair is a jumbled mess from where Yoona grabbed her.
"I think so." Yunah moves her head gingerly, her neck's definitely sore, if not suffering from whiplash. She lets herself be pulled into a sitting position, slumping against Yoona.
"Sorry, I was too rough wasn't I?" Yoona pulls on Yunah's soaked shorts and ruined panties, tugging them down. "I'll be gentler."
"No you don't have to—" But what Yoona wants, Yunah gets.
"I want to do this." The hand on Yoona's arm stopping her is soon grabbing it tightly, making sure it can't leave as she slips two fingers into Yunah. Sitting between her legs, Yunah's in the perfect position for Yoona to pretend she's getting herself off, and going by her reactions, Yunah likes what Yoona likes.
She starts with slow thrusts of her fingers, making sure her palm can rub against her clit while her fingers reach deeper into her. Then she alters the angle, planting a thumb on her nub and focusing on it, fingers merely something for her to squeeze around. Yoona swaps between the two, increasing in both speed and strength, just like she would when getting herself off. Yunah realizes belatedly that Yoona said she'll be "gentler", and not "gentle". Yoona's building her up very quickly, but with no strength left in her, she has little say in how Yoona's going to get her off.
"Yoona, no more, I-I might make a mess!" A thrilling buzz goes up Yunah's overstimulated body. Yoona recognizes the signs, feeling her hand suddenly get drenched, and she goes just that little bit faster to help Yunah reach her crescendo.
"It's okay, we have your bed to sleep in."
With a wail Yunah bucks violently, and Yoona pulls out just at the right time, letting her spray lewdly all over the bed. After the first gush Yoona's on her clit immediately, rubbing it determinedly, and all Yunah can do is cry a heavy serenade and squirt some more, letting the slicking of Yoona's fingers in her own pussy fill her head. With a final jerk Yunah snaps her thighs together, trembling against Yoona and completely overstimulated, a bit of drool leaking down her chin.
"Now that's a proper orgasm." As far as Yoona's concerned that's just like the one she had on Yunah's face, and she's satisfied with the outcome.
"Really? I— That's too loud for the dorms."
"Roommate?"
"Thin walls."
"Ah. Hm." Yoona ponders for a little while as she watches Yunah finally sit up, wrecked but glowing in satisfaction. "We should make the most of our time here then." Yoona sidles up to her, wrapping an arm around Yunah’s waist and leaning against her shoulder.
"Huh? Um, what about the bootcamp and stuff?"
"We can play a little, but let's be honest, we both suck." Yunah sighs and nods, she can only agree. "And let's be really honest, you loved that didn't you?" Yunah definitely agrees, sore neck nodding harder.
So when Yunah slips into Sullyoon's lap this time yet again, it's after a few days of Overwatch sessions between sex, rather than sex between Overwatch sessions, and both of them are utterly comfortable with one another. Yunah's straddling her thigh again, hand dancing up her other thigh.
"Can I?" Yunah doesn't wait, the fact that Sullyoon's just wearing a t-shirt and nothing else is answer enough.
"Mm." Sullyoon moans in approval as Yunah deftly slips past her panties. She lets Yunah lead, letting her rock her hips against her own thigh, in rhythm with fingers plunging into her.
"F-Fuck I love your thighs," Yunah confesses, shamelessly grinding on Sullyoon with all her clothes still on—that's just how needy she is, and if anyone were to ask “Who’s your bias?” Sullyoon’s definitely her bias now.
"Don't forget about me." Yunah makes sure to plug Sullyoon with her fingers, a rush of wetness welcoming her in. They cuff each other by the neck, pressed forehead to forehead, pussy to thigh, fingers to pussy—they're going to cum together, screaming as loud as they want. Yunah begins to whine, growing higher in pitch as she begins to ride Sullyoon harder. Sullyoon's moans begin to crack and rise to a whistle too, jaw hanging open as the bootcamp has already improved Yunah’s skills in getting Sullyoon off.
"Yunah yes yes yes!" "Yoona, oh god Yoona!"
Crying out the same name they cum together, the sudden rush of slick over Sullyoon's thigh triggering her own squirting climax over Yunah's fingers, the gamer chair suddenly dripping and the floor pooling with their combined juices. Yunah's slumped against Sullyoon's shoulder, and she weakly hugs her friend with both arms, smearing Sullyoon's juices all over her t-shirt, not that she minded.
"So good, so so good..." Sullyoon mumbles into Yunah's neck, sighing in satisfaction. On the desk Sullyoon sees her phone light up, a reminder from her manager that the bootcamp ends tomorrow, and she hugs Yunah a little tighter.
Yunah has other thoughts on her mind.
"Yoona?"
"Hmm?"
"Have you ever played LoL?"
A/N: Initially had an idea for Bae/Sullyoon/Minju/Yunah, and to call it 404z (with apologies to Moka), but that was too much work for now. But a Sullyoon/Yunah idea then took over because their names are the same in Korean, and then I found out they both play Overwatch, and somehow they both play Moira, and their birthdays are close too, and it's like destiny! Yunah's definitely the hidden aegyo type and Sullyoon's the type to accept it like she does with Bae's hyperness, so it works in my head. Anyways I might revisit the 404 idea eventually, I like that Bae/Sullyoon kinda mirrors Yunah/Minju a little, one more outgoing and one more quiet. But eh the pronouns get so messy with just two idols, 4 is gonna be worse, we'll see.
I had a few title candidates as well, from Re-Yunification to Yu(oo)nification to "Fucking over Overwatch", because they're fucking instead of playing overwatch XD
Anyways thanks for reading, it was fun working in some puns with Yunah/Yoona, hope it isn't too confusing!
The following is Chapter 12 in the Toy series - but it can (mostly) be read on its own.
This chapter is from the POV of Woody.
11,668 words.
---
My mind in a vice grip
Your legs still wrapped around my head
In that hotel suite
Cigarette ashes on my bed
They stain the sheets - I see you nude, dancing around my room
As if you ain’t a thousand miles back home
But it’s cool I’ll probably see you soon
I can’t go to that thrift store
Without smelling sex in the dressing room
Can’t hear my favorite film score
Without sweet nothings played on loop
It’s kind of rude, won’t let me loose
As if you weren’t a thousand miles back home
But it’s cool I’ll probably see you soon
I can still feel you kiss me
I thought I was ready
to see you off on that flight
I said goodbye - but as the clock, it ticks on by\
I realize I’m still holding you close\
As if you ain’t a thousand miles back home
But least we got telephones
Whoever said “out of sight, out of mind”
Fucking lied
‘Cause you’re not by, by my side
Still keep me up at night
I can still feel you kiss me
-Holywatr, “Without U”
---
It’s painful, honestly, the way she does it.
She steps into the cafe like she owns it, despite the oversized hoodie and ridiculously short denim shorts that looked worn out and threadbare but are probably designer and worth more than what you make in a month. The cap on her head, the large sunglasses, and the mask cover her - because without them someone might recognize her face as one that’s been on a million screens, a thousand advertisements, all over the world.
She looks, almost, like she doesn’t care. She looks like any other young woman grabbing an overpriced, oversweetened dose of caffeine that she’ll probably snap a picture of for her Instagram story before leaving half-finished on a sidewalk somewhere. She reaches the counter and mutters an order to a barista that doesn’t deign to even look up from the tablet he punches her order into.
Every movement she makes is painful to you. Her nonchalance - her indifference - stings. It’s a sharp spike poised above your ribs, giving you tiny little jabs of bright pain.
She steps aside from the register and saunters to the waiting area. A hand slips into her oversized tote - which, like the rest of her attire, hid a ludicrous price tag beneath its ragged exterior - to produce a phone that she idly scrolls as she waits.
It’s then that she sees you.
Dark glasses turn. The mask hides her expression. You imagine it’s hiding a regretful sigh, or one of disgust at something unpleasant that she’ll have to take care of - like a full trash can that needs to be emptied.
The barista calls her name - not her real one, not here, out in public - and she takes the plastic caffeine container, loaded with an obscene amount of ice and whipped cream and those stupid fucking chocolate sprinkles she loves so much. She walks over to the corner booth where you’re sitting, sits across from you.
The mask drops. The glasses come off.
Minatozaki Sana was many things. Idol, model.
Today she is just a young woman throwing away a toy she’d grown tired of.
---
“You look like you’re doing well,” she says, flatly. Her eyes, often so full of mirth and mischief and something she wanted people to interpret as joy - they look dull and uninterested today, as though she’d had to force herself to be here, to see you.
You don’t know what to say. What could you say? This was one of the most popular woman on earth, one of the most gorgeous, and you’d spent the last few years catering to her every whim. You’d seen her at her highest, supported you through her lowest, fucked her throughout. Those lips had wrapped themselves around your cock, whispered filth against shower tiles as you took her from behind, spilt her hopes and dreams and deepest insecurities on those quiet nights between shows when all you did was hold her in her hotel room while she cried about how she believed everyone around her wanted her just for her looks and not for the girl beneath them ---
And now she was greeting you with the same interest she had given the barista moments earlier.
“I’m good,” you manage, although the words that leave your lips seem to come from a voice that isn’t yours.
“How’s your mom?” she continues, even as she takes her drink and stirs it absently, taking a short sip of the sugar water within.
“She’s good, she’s good,” you answer. The words cost you something to say, because speaking to her isn’t free anymore, not now. “The doctors say she’s responding well to the treatment. They say she’ll be out of the hospital in a few weeks.”
“Good,” she says. Her eyes don’t meet yours. She takes another sip of her drink. “Which hospital is she at?”
“She just got transferred to the Women’s Hospital, the one on 6th street.”
Sana nods, barely, but doesn’t make eye contact.
“How are you?” you ask, because that was how conversations worked, right? She asks how you are, you answer, you ask her how she is, she answers. You don’t have the courage or the brain cells to manage much more than that - not now, not when the woman sitting across from you is who she is.
Silence. It’s only for a few seconds as he stirs her drink with that green paper straw she hated so much. The world thought they knew everything about Minatozaki Sana, but her hatred of paper straws is something only you know about her. It’s an intimate thing, amidst the myriad of other intimate things you know of her.
But none of that knowledge is able to bridge the silence between you. It lasts only a few seconds, but they feel like forever.
“How are the girls?” you add, hoping a simpler question might prompt more conversation, might produce something, anything out of her to fill this painful, terrible silence.
“They’re good. Tour wrapped up. Just the encores in Seoul to go.”
“Good. That’s good.”
“Yeah.”
“Did you… how was… uh, the cities?”
She looks up at you, finally, at the random words spilling from your mouth in some vain attempt to maintain some semblance of normalcy. She’s stunning - even without an ounce of makeup or the small platoon of makeup artists and hairstylists that make her look the way she does on those screens and advertisements - but today she looks tired, and uninterested, and done with it.
Done with you.
“They were good,” she answers, finally. Her attention returns to her drink to the sugar, water, and caffeine concoction on the table between you, as though it were a third participant in this awful, painful conversation. Silence returns, for too long.
“Sana, I-”
“Listen,” she says, at a volume and with a tone that rattles you. “We both know why we’re here.”
You don’t say anything. How could you?
“We can’t do this anymore,” she says. Her eyes falter for a moment - just a moment - before she wrestles them back in line. “It was fun. But it was a dream. Time to wake up. It’s over.”
Your words fail you. Two years - two years you’d spent with this woman - and they’re all gone, all over, just like that - a dream to be woken up from, a toy to be discarded.
You want to say something. Want to tell her the past few years have been the best of your life, that you’d seen cities and done things and had experiences that you’d long thought only existed in movies or k-dramas or fanfiction - and that she was at the center of all that, the source of it, the only reason why you were able to experience it all and that you will thank her, with every second of the rest of your life, that she picked you out of the thousands of men at that concert two years, eight months, three days and sixteen hours ago---
“Sana-” you begin, but no words follow.
“I don’t need a manager that will just get up and leave me randomly,” she states, the words somehow sharp and cold at the same time. “I need someone I can depend on. Whenever, wherever. You’re not that person. Not anymore.”
She lets the words lie there in the space between you for a moment that felt much longer than it actually was. Something painful flares in your chest.
“The company will send you the rest of your pay,” she continues. “And the non-disclosure agreement, of course.” The glasses and mask come back on, covering up those gorgeous features of hers. Her eyes catch yours before the glasses cover them up and there’s something there that hurts you - the indifference, the nonchalance, the arrogance of this woman for tossing you aside like some unwanted trinket she’d grown bored of.
But it’s fleeting. The lenses are opaque and dark and you wonder if you’ll ever see those eyes this closely again. She gathers her things.
“Bye,” she says, and for a moment you imagine there’s regret, or sadness, or something soft and fragile in her voice - but then you realize it was probably your imagination, your heart protecting itself from being shattered into a million pieces right there on the floor of some fucking chain coffee shop.
She leaves.
Her drink sits on the table, barely-touched, left behind.
---
“We miss you, bro.”
Pikachu was a good guy. He was on the other side of the world, but the wonders of modern technology meant you could still pick out the genuine tone in his words and the worry behind them.
“Thanks, dude. I miss you guys too. How’s Buzz?”
“Aw, you know,” Pikachu answers. “It is what it is. You know she’s… she’s dating someone else now, right?”
You don’t have to ask who he means by ‘she’. It was common knowledge now, and had been plastered all over the k-pop blogs when news of it broke. The ‘ideal couple,’ they were called, because they both looked like marble statues of the fucking Olympians brought to life.
Buzz, on the other hand, was a little short and scrawny; but admittedly, most men looked scrawny next to her new boyfriend.
“Tell him to keep his head up,” you answer. “He’s a good guy. I heard he’s getting into acting after the tour is done?”
“He is,” Pikachu replies. “The other managers want him to stay on, but I think he wants a break from it all. He accepted a role last week. It starts filming at the end of the year.”
There’s a moment of sad silence between you, a melancholy, an acknowledgement that the brotherhood that had formed between the three of you was reaching its natural end, and there was nothing any of you could do to stop it. It was fleeting, momentary - three men brought together under the most ridiculous circumstances - but you treasured it, cherished it all the same. You shared some of the best of years of your life with them, and now that time was coming to an end.
A dream to wake up from.
“How’s your mom?” Pikachu asks, and you answer - she’s doing fine, the doctors have run the tests and prescribed the drugs, but she’ll need a little more time in the hospital to recover. Pikachu is thoughtful and genuine, and makes a promise to come visit her, and you, someday.
“And how’s…” he hesitates for a moment, knowing he was approaching sore, still-bleeding territory. “How are things with you and Sana?”
You gather yourself for a moment. The wound was still fresh. You’re still trying to get over the way she did it, the way she threw you left you behind like that fucking drink she left on the table. Anger flares for a moment. You hide it.
“We’re done,” you answer, and the words leave a lump in your throat as they pass. “She… she broke things off after I came back home for mom. I saw her last week in person on her way back to Seoul. Said she needed someone that wasn’t going to just leave at random times. You know how she is - needy as fuck. Threw me aside like a piece of trash but hey, at least she did it to my face.”
You manage a sad chuckle. Pikachu is supportive. He’s a bro, he knows what to do. He tells you she was a bitch to break things off with you the way she did, when she did. He tells you she’s a spoiled brat, that she’s used to people doting on her 24/7/365 and couldn’t handle someone who had other priorities. He goes off on how needy she always is, and how she’s constantly seeking the attention and approval of everyone around her, and how exhausting that is for everyone.
He says the right things, and you knew him well enough to know that he meant them.
The call nears its end. Pikachu has a team meeting to attend in ten minutes, where the managers and the crew will be discussing the wrap-up of the European leg and begin preparations for the finales in Seoul. He mentions, offhandedly, that Momo and Chaeyoung have been at odds in the past few weeks, and that management wants him to take care of it before the finales start.
For a moment, you consider telling him something - a secret you’d long held. Something he should know.
“Take care of yourself, bro. I’ll talk to you soon, alright?” he says, before you can formulate the words.
“Yeah,” you answer. The secret dies on your lips.Talking about her was the last thing you wanted to do. “Soon, bro.”
---
At the hospital, your sister tells you to go home - she’d gotten some time off work and could watch your mom for a while. You often fought with your sister in the way siblings do, but you loved her, and she loved you, and her insistence that you “go home and shower the depression off” was her way of showing it.
Your apartment wasn’t as kind to you as you’d hoped it would be.
Relics of the past few years are everywhere - tour merch, clothes and trinkets and souvenirs from the cities you’d visited on tour, photos of you and some combination of Pikachu or Buzz or even a few of the girls at some bar in Mexico City, a coffee shop in Prague, in front of the Space Needle in Seattle. Nayeon and Jeongyeon looking like an old married couple as they posed in front of the Eiffel Tower. Mina looking ethereal on the foggy streets of Berlin. Chaeyoung in Amsterdam at a thrift shop, smiling brightly at Pikachu, standing next to her with arms full with a pile of clothes she was going to try on.
And then, a framed picture - you and Sana somewhere in Tokyo, before the tour. Chaeyoung had snapped it with one of those silly vintage film cameras of hers, and it’s suitably artsy - a little out of focus, a little more candid than either of you were expecting. But your arm is around her, and you’re both a little tipsy from the half-empty wine bottle on the table beside you, and she’s smiling at you like-
You swear. You grasp the frame and hurl it across the room. You don’t hear the crash it makes as it slams into the wall. You bury your face in your hands.
The shattered glass glitters like stars on your living room carpet.
The past floods back, merciless.
---
“It fucking sucks.”
“I know it does,” you answer. “But they don’t know, Sana. They don’t know.”
She sighs, her breath a warm rush of air against your collarbone. She nuzzles closer into your neck, and her hair fills your nostrils with her scent - she smells like springtime, like something new, something bright.
“It’s all they see,” she continues, her voice weak in a way none of her fans have ever heard. “They see the ads, the fashion shows. I’m just a mannequin. The lipstick. The sports bra. My tits pushed up to my chin on stage-”
“They’re great tits,” you answer, softly, a nervous smile wobbly on your lips - one that you’re relieved to find is mirrored on her own.
“They’re great tits,” she repeats, playfully, and she straightens her back slightly and gives them a little shake. They’re small, modest, and on stage they’re more bra than breast - not that you gave a damn, not when they’re there, in front of you, and they’re naked and bare, nipples still tight and taut. After you’ve looked your fill she settles back against you, wrapping an arm around your torso and a warm, naked thigh over yours. You can feel the heat between her legs, and the neat patch of hair above her cunt on your hip. A trickle of something warm drips onto your hip.
“I just wish they saw more,” she continues.
You lie there with her in a long but not uncomfortable silence. She makes a pillow of your shoulder and chest. Your left hand weaves through her hair, the silken strands falling between your fingers at the end of each stroke.
“I don’t,” you say.
She looks up at you, those doe eyes of hers wide.
“You don’t?” she asks, surprised.
“No,” you answer. Your free hand reaches up to the side of her face, brushing a few strands of hair aside and behind her ear. “I don’t want anyone else to see what I see.”
She scoffs, hisses through her teeth in the way she does when you do something silly, which was often. “You’re just saying that because you’re the one that gets to fuck me, and you’re a selfish shit.”
“Maybe,” you answer, “but I don’t think the whole world needs to see the Sana that I see.”
She props her chin up on your chest. Her eyes are wide and her cheeks full and she looks like something someone drew for a manga.
“I don’t want to the world to see the girl that cries over cheesy slice-of-life animes,” you continue. “I don’t want them to know that you hate olives, or that you think Sailor Venus was the best sailor scout. I don’t want them to know what sound you make when you cum, or the way your forehead wrinkles when you’re thinking too hard.”
Her forehead wrinkles. You reach up and forcefully smooth the skin down, and she smiles.
“You’re a real sweet talker. But you’ve already got me naked and in your arms and I’m dripping your cum on the sheets. You can cut the sweet stuff.”
“No, I don’t think I will.”
She kisses you, and her lips are soft and sweet in the way your words try to be.
“Let them see the mannequin,” you say, softly. “Let them see the idol, the model. They don’t need to see what’s beneath. They don’t deserve it.”
Her eyes are glassy, watery. “The important people deserve the real Sana,” you continue. “Save the real Sana for the girls. For your family and friends.”
You almost add ‘for me.’ Two simple words, and they’re right there, right there on the tip of your tongue and it would take just a slight rush of air, a small vibration of your vocal chords and they would be there, out in the open, between you and her - a declaration, a statement, a demand.
But the words don’t come. She’s here, in your arms, and her eyes tell you she’s waiting for them, but they don’t come.
The moment passes. She nuzzles back into your neck and you feel something moist hit your chest beneath her eyes.
“You’re too good to me,” she says, and it’s an accusation and a warning.
You ignore both.
---
You’re angry again when you wake up. Did you dream it all? It was all so vivid, so real, that it felt like you were inhabiting your past self for a few moments.
You can almost feel her warm body on top of yours, almost feel her tears on your chest.
But she’s gone, and you’re alone, and the past doesn’t matter anymore, because the past is past, and she’s still gone, and you’re still alone.
The glass still glitters on your carpet - traitorous, mocking shards of light.
---
She liked to dance. Half-naked. Drunk.
You’re in a hotel room somewhere in Europe, a ridiculously expensive one that had a nightly rate that probably approached half or more of your paycheque. You’re a few weeks removed from that quiet night together, when she confessed her discontent with how she was seen by the world. You’re also a few hours removed from when she was on stage, dancing and singing and looking for all the world like the perfect idol, the perfect model - performing for people that saw her as just that and nothing else.
You’d been ready to call it a night and head to sleep after a long day - concert days were always utterly exhausting - but Sana had called, and you’d heeded it. You always did. The other girls were busy, or off doing their own thing, she’d said, and she was bored and wanted someone to drink with.
You knew for a fact that the girls were either off with Pikachu and/or Buzz, or off having their own after-party at some bar in the city - and that Sana wasn’t invited to either. But you keep that to yourself.
She’s gorgeous, all perfect skin and long limbs and long, flowing hair that’s free and unbound, without hairclips or ties or the myriad of ridiculous sprays and products that her stylists use to have her hair fall just so.
She’s wearing a simple thong that does little to hide the curve of that cute little ass of hers - and a sports bra from that brand she hates, the one that presented her like she was a gym rat when in reality she hated even the idea of working out. It pushes her tits together and up, almost to her chin, the way she hates, but right now she doesn’t care. She’s too busy dancing.
She’s dancing to the group’s latest song, the one about having a strategy. It’s a choreography you’ve seen a hundred times, but not while she’s drunk and has a near-empty bottle of some local beer with a name you can’t pronounce in one hand, not while she’s in her underwear, and certainly not for an audience of one - yourself.
“Step four, got you on the floor
Make you say, “More, more, more!”
She sways and flails her arms around in a mockery of the actual choreography, before giving up altogether and taking a long swig from her bottle that drains it. She wipes her mouth clean with the back of a hand, before giving you a wicked smile.
The song continues in the background, playing in shrill, piercing notes from her phone, but all you hear are the words leaving her mouth - each slowed and slurred by alcohol. The drinks blur the sharp edges of the world, and make her more gorgeous than you’d ever seen her.
“Say it,” she says, the words leaving her mouth in a tipsy mumble. “Say the words.”
From the hotel room couch, you stare at her, puzzled and enraptured all at once.
“What words?”
“From the song. ‘More, more, more.’ Say it.”
You smile at her. She’s swaying - drunk, swaying, more beautiful than she was on stage mere hours before, when she was in front of thousands.
She gently tosses the empty bottle at you, which you catch. Her hands go to the hem of her sports bra.
“Say it,” she says playfully, the cutesy voice snapping back like a mask she’d slipped on - trying and failing to sound threatening, her silly smile and blushing cheeks betraying her futile attempt to seem so. “Say it, and I’ll strip for you.”
“Sana,” you say. “You’re drunk. I’m drunk.”
“Say it!” she says, her voice lower now, closer to a growl, but it’s playful, and not at all threatening.
You slouch on the couch, defeated. Your mouth opens. “More, more, more,” you say, out of tune.
The bra comes off. She pulls it over those small, round breasts of hers, over her head and her long, luxurious hair. She lets it dangle from her fingers, before she tosses it at your face.
Before you can even process it she’s on you - straddling you on the couch, hands in your hair, mouth crushing yours. Her lips are eager and hot and slick and you kiss her back, your tongue finding hers, your hands wrapping themselves around her body. Your fingers claw at her, dig at her soft, warm skin, squeezing a firm ass cheek, caressing the dip of her spine.
“You want me, don’t you?” she says, the words a harsh tumble, a breathy gasp between kisses. She’s kissing you hard, pressing your lips almost painfully against your teeth. “Say you want me,” she says - her tone a demand now, a low tone, a far cry from the cutesy tone of moments before.
“I want you, Sana,” you answer, the words coming from somewhere raw and primal inside you, a place of instinct and old desire.
She breaks the kiss. Her face hovers just a few inches from yours. Her cheeks are flush with the alcohol, but her eyes are clear - bright, shining, glimmering in a way that you’ve seen nowhere else in your life.
“You want me, right? Me. Me.”
“Yes,” you answer, on instinct. “Yes, Sana. You.”
She kisses you again. It’s rough and almost painful as her teeth graze your lips - but she soothes it with a swipe of her tongue. She captures your upper lip between both of hers and sucks. Your hands land on her ass and you squeeze each cheek, making her break the kiss to moan softly into your mouth.
You kiss a trail - down her cute little chin, down that slender, swan-like neck of hers, to her upper chest. Your tongue drags along her collarbone. Then you dip your head, find the tight, taut nipple atop her left breast, and latch onto it with your lips. You suckle.
She gasps. She swears. She writhes.
“Fuck,” she gasps into your ear, the word leaving her lips like a growl, sounding very much unlike the idol, very much unlike the mannequin that brands dress in their clothes and trot out in front of the cameras. “Fuck, it feels so good when you do that.”
Your tongue works its magic on her. Months of fucking this woman have shown you what to do, taught you how to wrest a gasp or moan from those sweet lips of hers. The tip of your tongue swirls around her nipple, first clockwise then counter-clockwise, pressure constant, maintaining suction with your lips.
She’s trembling now, her hands digging painful furrows into your scalp. She’s hot and drunk and bothered and she needs more, so you give it to her.
You switch to her right breast, lathering it with the same attention you gave her first. Your hand leaves her ass to squeeze her free breast, streaked now with your saliva. You capture her nipple between your index finger and thumb and give the tight bud a pinch. She moans and gasps. You grunt, deep and raw, against her nipple as she begins to gyrate atop your painfully hard cock, still trapped beneath your sweats.
“Ohh, you like that, do you?” she hisses in your ear, a question with an obvious answer - one that leaves your mouth in an involuntary groan.
“You like fucking me, don’t you? Love having the hottest, most popular girl in the group - in Korea - on your cock.”
“Fuck, Sana, just-”
“You love knowing the girl from the stage, the girl in all the ads, the girl on everyone’s phone - you love that she’s gonna ride your cock until you fill her with your cum, don’t you?”
“Yes, Sana. I do. Just fucking put it in-”
“What would the fans think? What would they say, if they found out their perfect angel from the MVs and variety shows and makeup ads loves begging for her fucktoy’s cock?”
“Sana-”
“-like a fucking dirty little whore.”
“You’re not, you’re not just a-”
“Say it, Woody,” she says, your pet name leaving her lips in a hot, sexy hiss directly into your ear. “Say it again, toy.”
She grinds on your cock - and you can feel her hot wetness, even through her soaked thong and your moistened sweats - from the base of your cock to its tip.
“More-” you hiss through your teeth. “-more, more.”
One hand grasps the back of your scalp, pulls your head backward so her eyes can look directly into yours. They’re dark, those eyes - half-lidded, dark, filled with something dark and dangerous.
There’s something else in them, too. Something that looks like insecurity. Something that looks like sadness.
The other hand reaches between you. They grasp the waistband of your sweats and pull them down, freeing your painfully stiff cock.
“Such a good little toy,” she spits. “Suck a nice cock for me to fuck myself on. A good fuck. That’s all you want, isn’t it? A good fuck. That’s all you ever wanted from me.”
Silence - for a split second. Something flickers in her eyes.
“Sana-”
She frees your sore scalp from her hand, uses it to reach between you and pull her flimsy little thong aside. With her other hand she guides your tip to her cunt and in that split second before she slides down your shaft you can feel the heat of her on your tip.
A drop of her juices drips from her lips and onto your shaft. She slides down your cock.
The breath leaves your lungs and hers. You’d had this woman probably hundreds of times in the last two years, and this moment never failed to take your breath away - or hers. You’d had her in every way imaginable, in every place, sometimes with other men or women sharing the experience. But you never tired of the excitement, the intensity, and the pleasure of this moment.
She doesn’t waste her time. Not tonight. Not when she was needy and full of your cock and more than a little drunk - on alcohol, on the adoration of her fans, on you.
She rides you. The alcohol lends her passion but takes her coordination in exchange, and she’s sloppy and her rhythm isn’t what it is when she’s sober. It’s rough and messy. Her pace falters, then quickens when she realizes she’s slacking, then slows again when your tip hits a particular spot inside her.
For a few moments you’re paralyzed by the sight and feel of her. She’s gorgeous and naked and sweaty and you watch as a drop of sweat makes its way down her neck and upper chest and onto your tongue, where you lick it off her slick skin. She’s hot and tight and wet. She’s moaning and sighing and gasping. She’s everything and it’s already almost two much, just a few minutes in.
Your hands tighten around her hips as they grind up and down on your lap, taking your cock in and out of her body with each movement. Her own hands brace herself on your shoulders. She’s sober enough to remember what you like. She’s lucid enough to remember that you loved it when she moved her hips in those small little circular motions - a motion that grinds her slick, taut clit against your crotch with each movement.
Those small, round breasts of hers sway in front of you, nipples taut. The sports bra she hated so much left sore red marks on her skin where they confined and shaped her torso into something it wasn’t. You bend and drag your tongue along the horizontal line beneath her breasts that its ribbing left behind. One of her hands grasps the back of your skull again, and pulls it towards her left breast. You suckle from her nipple again.
“Such a good fucking toy for me,” she says, the words leaving her lips in a messy, half-slurred tumble. Your mouth on her nipple draws a gasp from her throat before she continues. “You feel so big inside me, baby.”
You switch to her other breast, taking her nipple between your mouth and sucking hard. She moans in response. Her back arches, giving you more of her. Her pace quickens.
“Fuck, fuck,” she gasps. “Love your- ah - love your mouth on my tits.”
You want to respond, but couldn’t tear your lips away from her sweat-slick nipple long enough to say anything.
“They’re so small,” she says, softer now, a little quieter. “Not - oh, fuck, yeah right there - not as… as big without the bra. The fucking… the fucking fanboys want the big tits, though-”
That’s when your mouth leaves her. Your eyes find hers.
“You’re perfect-”
Your words are cut off when her hand finds your scalp again, nails digging deep into your scalp this time. She ceases her movements, leaving you hilt deep inside you. Her eyes find yours. They’re red and glassy - from the beer and the pleasure and something else. She’s angry and upset and somehow fragile, all at the same time.
“Shut the fuck up,” she snaps. “Shut up. Just shut up and fuck me.”
She releases your scalp. She resumes her pace. Your cock slides in and out of her slick, hot little cunt. You want to say something, want to stop, even - but she’s one of the most gorgeous women in the world, quite literally your dream girl, and that stupid, all-consuming, primal need for pleasure overcomes your concern for her wellbeing. The animal part of you wins. It often did.
You grasp her hips instead. That same animal part that renders you unable to think of anything else drives you, gives you that irresistible need to claim her, make her yours. You drive up with your hips as best you can despite your position and her weight on your lap, spearing your cock into her slick cunt, timing each thrust to meet the moment she grinds down on you.
She gasps, moans, screams at one point when you hit a spot inside her that makes her see stars. She whispers filth - about her body, about her ownership of you, about what you’re doing to her cunt.
But you hear none of it. You hear something else - something she’s not saying.
I’m lonely, she says. I’m afraid they love me for my body and for my face and not for my heart.
Her head, which had been thrown back after a particularly deep and throaty moan, bends forward to find yours. Her hair falls around her face, framing it in waves the color of chocolate. Her eyes look for and find and lock on to yours.
“Gonna… fuck, I’m gonna cum.”
“Do it, Sana. Show me.”
“You want it, don’t you? Want this hot cunt to cum on your cock. Want this fucking whore from the ads to- to-”
“I want you, Sana-”
“Fuck, fuck, oh god, fuck!”
Her body surrenders to something deep and primal within her. Her torso locks up; her thighs quiver as they tighten as best they can around your hips; her spine arches as she throws her head back and lets a broken, throaty moan leave her spit-slick lips. Her cunt squeezes and pulsates around your cock, almost painfully.
It takes her a while to recover. She collapses into your arms, breathing heavily. She’s buried her face in your neck. You stroke her hair with one hand, trace the elegant line of her spine with the other. You feel a trickle of her juices slide down the base of your shaft and down your balls.
Eventually, she gathers herself. She brings her mouth to your ear, and with a voice that is a far cry from the cutesy, airy tone she uses in front of the cameras, she whispers.
“Your turn.”
You grasp her torso, press it to yours, and turn her onto her back on the couch. She lets out a soft little yelp, and her breasts give the most adorable little bounce. Her lips curl into a surprised smile. You smile back. You stay there for a second, on top of her, your cock still buried inside her and a drunk, silly smile on both of your faces. It’s short, fleeting, but it was there.
Then you start fucking her.
She gasps and moans and cries. The same mouth that was making cutesy noises and talking to her fans is swearing now, spilling filth and obscenities with each thrust you make into her tight little cunt.
“Fuck! Fuck, fuck me harder, god, just fucking use me-”
Her pleas are cut short when you hook your arms under her knees and push them against her chest. She’s folded in half now, her legs near horizontal against her own chest. She’s defenseless. You start drilling her into the mattress. She can’t do much else than just take each hard, deep thrust - not that she would want to.
You fuck her so hard into the mattress that you’re grunting with each thrust, heavy exhalations of air with each movement, as though you were powering through a set at the gym. She’s quiet now - the voice fucked out of her - her mouth open in a frozen O, her eyes curling towards the back of her head. There’s only the hot, repeated slap of skin, the protests of the couch beneath the two of you, and the slick, wet sound of your cock slamming in and out of Minatozaki Sana’s tight little cunt.
“You like that, Sana?” you manage to spit through gritted teeth. “Like how I fuck you?”
“Y-yes-” she answers, just barely. Her fingers claw at your biceps, seeking something to ground herself amidst the assault your fucking is placing on her body. It’s almost too much, and her body screams at her to beg you to stop - but the thought doesn’t even enter her mind. Not when it’s too good, you’re too deep, and you’re pushing her closer and closer to-
“You’re so fucking tight, Sana,” you spit as you lean down to kiss her deeply. She moans into your mouth. You’re fucking her all the while. Her knees bounce up and down in your peripheral vision, and her feet dangle helplessly above your head. “So fucking tight. I love using this pussy. Love using you-”
You almost regret saying the words as they leave your mouth. It’s almost too much. It reduces her to something less than what she is. It reduces her to a toy. It makes her a-
“Yes! Fuck, fuck yes - ah, oh god - just use me. Use my body. Cum inside me, breed me, just fucking use me!”
You fuck her harder. Your cock pistons in and out of her body and you forget any semblance of care for her or her wellbeing, physical or mental. She’s just a cunt now, just a warm wet hole - one that’s tight and pulsating and squeezing around you and she’s hissing now, begging in your ear, begging to be used just as you currently are, begging to be bred and filled with cum-
“Fuck, Sana I’m cumming, gonna cum inside you-”
“Do it, yes, use me. Use this fucking body. Use this cunt. Cum inside it!”
You bury yourself inside her. Her legs are pressed almost flat against her torso as you drive as deep as you can inside her tight, grasping cunt. You let go, and you fill her with thick, warm cum - long ropes of semen that paint her cunt white.
“Oh fuck, there’s so much - I can feel it. So warm. So thick. You’re filling me up, breeding me, fuck-”
You bury your face into her neck. It takes a long time for your senses to return to a functional state. You breathe deeply. Every inhale carries her scent - sweat, sex, something sweet, something Sana.
You let her legs fall from your arms. She keeps them tight around your hips. You give her small, grinding thrusts with your softening cock as you push your cum as deep inside her as it can go. She lets small whimpers leave her throat with each movement you make. They’re light, airy sounds. Wordless, but passionate.
You eventually gather the strength to raise yourself from her neck. Her face is one you’ll never tire of seeing - blissful, blushed, fucked-out and satisfied.
But her eyes are glassy. They look fragile. There’s something there-
-and it’s gone. A mask - that of the sly, sexy vixen she likes to occasionally wear with you and a select few others - snaps into place.
“Fuck, that was good,” she says, a wicked smile curling her lips - one that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “You fuck me so good, baby.”
You bend to kiss her. She kisses you back, her lips saying things that her voice never could.
She thinks she has you fooled, thinks you can’t see the version of her that is soft and vulnerable and more than a little insecure with her belief that no one would want to see it. She thinks her masks are too thick, her walls too high, and that all the world wants from Minatozaki Sana is the pretty mask and the pristine wall - but she’s wrong, even if she doesn’t know it.
Tomorrow the two of you will get on a flight to the next tour stop, right along with her group members and the dozens of other crew that are needed for such productions. Tomorrow night she’ll sing and dance and laugh and smile at thousands of fans, and for just a few hours, mask in place, she’ll belong to them.
But the Sana behind the masks and the walls belongs only to you, only if she only appears from behind them for a few seconds at a time.
---
“They don’t know what it is,” your sister says on the phone - six words that no one around the world wants to hear, followed up by three more: “They’re running tests.”
“Jesus Christ,” you swear, running a hand through your hair, damp with sweat. You’re suddenly sick. You hold your hand over your mouth for a moment, as though you were keeping this morning’s breakfast in your stomach.
“She doesn’t… she doesn’t look well,” she continues. “She says she’s fine, tells me not to worry, but-”
“I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
“No, it’s fine. For now. You shouldn’t come until we know what it is. Where are you, anyway?”
Your sister knew little about your job - enough to know that you did “backstage work” for some k-pop group and were often travelling, but that was the extent of it.
“Barcelona,” you answer, but it’s irrelevant now. “I’ll… I’ll talk to my boss, get some time off and-”
Your sister says your name. She says it in the tone she uses when she wants you to listen to her - the same one your mother used when she wanted the same.
“It’s fine,” she says. “Really. I’ll let you know as soon as the doctors talk to me. Then you can come visit if you can. But there’s no use in you taking time off work just to come home and realize this is all appendicitis or something stupid like that.”
You let a sigh out through your nose.
“Alright,” you relent, watching as Pikachu and Buzz struggle with a particularly large container of the girls’ stage costumes and other gear. Buzz motions for you to help. “You’ll let me know the second you hear anything?”
“Of course. Take care of yourself, you dipshit.”
“You too, shitface.”
You end the call, tossing your phone into your pocket. You hustle over to the guys and help them with the container. It takes all three of you to successfully heave the large black travel container into the back of the waiting truck.
“Woody!”
Each of your heads snap to the venue door, where Sana has poked her head out. She waves frantically to you, motioning you over. She’d probably lost her phone or her airpods or her camera again and needed help finding it - or rather, needed someone to find it for her.
Pikachu gives you a tap on the shoulder as you turn to head back to Sana.
“Everything good, bud? Call looked serious.”
“Yeah,” you answer. “Nothing crazy. Just some stuff from back home.”
“Need help with anything?” Buzz asks, genuine. You glance over at the venue door. Sana is standing there with arms crossed, foot tapping.
“No, not right now. I’m good. It’s just my mom, she’s going through some health stuff. That was my sister… she said they don’t know what it is yet, but that they’re gonna run some tests-”
“Woody!” she calls, again, a little more impatient this time.
You give Pikachu and Buzz an apologetic look.
“Hope the pussy’s worth it, bro,” Buzz says with a sigh, before turning towards the rest of the containers that were awaiting loading. Pikachu shoots you an apologetic look of his own before joining him.
You hurry over to Sana.
---
A lesser man would have been more distracted. Or would a lesser man have been less distracted? It’s hard to say. Your moral compass had been somewhat warped by the last two years and the ridiculous rollercoaster of events you’d found yourself on.
Moral quandaries aside, you had to admit - you were a little distracted by the news from home, even given what was happening in front of you.
The hot, wet slap of your hips against Sana’s ass was steady and grounding, in a way, giving you something to latch on to amidst the swirl of emotions and worries and general catastrophizing going on in your head. The usual chorus of moans and sighs that accompanied the slap of your hips against her ass was muffled somewhat, replaced by the occasional wet, slick gurgle and gasp that managed to escape her lips past the thick shaft filling her mouth.
You and Pikachu fall into a familiar rhythm as you take Sana from both ends, spitroasting her at a pace that threaded the line between being too rough and being just right. It was far from the first time you’d taken Sana with someone and it spoke of her own familiarity and ease with the arrangement that she was currently taking you both without a hint of discomfort.
“Fuck, she’s so good at this,” Pikachu hisses between gritted teeth. His hand glides through the dark chocolate strands of Sana’s hair, grasping the back of her skull as he thrusts into her mouth. “So good at taking cocks. One of the best in the group at taking more than one, honestly.”
“Yeah,” you agree, after a moment. As much as it shamed you to say it, your mind was elsewhere, despite being balls deep inside one of the most gorgeous women on earth. “She’s… she’s such a good slut for us,” you manage.
The praise sends a shiver down Sana’s spine - and results in her cunt squeezing just a little tighter around your cock as it pumps in and out of her. She lets something like a moan out around Pikachu’s shaft and it wrests a groan of pleasure from his throat, too.
She lets his cock slip from between her lips.
“Fuck,” she hisses. Saliva and pre-cum drip from the corners of her mouth and down that tiny little chin of hers. She nuzzles Pikachu’s cock, slathering her own, spit onto her pretty cheek, making it glisten in the low light of the hotel room. She looks back over her shoulder at you, and the intensity in her eyes grasps your full attention for a moment. “Fuck, you like using me, don’t you, boys?”
A reply forms on your lips. You knew this dance well, knew that she liked being praised for being a dirty little fucktoy even as she’s used like one. But the words don’t come. Thankfully, Pikachu had no such hesitations, nor your preoccupations.
“Fuck yes, Sana,” he snaps. “You’re being such a good fucktoy for us. So good at taking both cocks at once.”
“Then keep fucking me,” Sana sighs, eyes locking onto his. “Fuck me until you both cum inside me.”
She slips his cock back into his mouth. All the while you’re been fucking her, sliding in and out of her tight little cunt. The spitroast continues. The bed protests, singing its own song of squeaking springs and a wobbly frame as it supports the rough movements of the three people atop it.
Sana moans and Pikachu groans and you do your best to fuck her, to keep your mind in the present, but it’s not. Your body responds, though, thankfully, even if your mind and heart didn’t.
“Fuck, gonna cum,” Pikachu spits. He grasps Sana’s head with both hands and his pace quickens. Sana lets a wet gurgle of a moan out of her throat even as Pikachu uses it.
The telltale pleasure at the base of your spine builds. “Me too,” you manage, and for a moment the pleasure is all that exists, all other worry momentarily forced out by the sheer satisfaction of watching this woman, this woman from all the screens and ads and concerts, being used by you and one of your best friends.
“Fuck!” Pikachu hisses, and suddenly he’s holding Sana’s scalp against his crotch as he fills her throat with cum - and the sight of it triggers your own, and your grasping her hips tight enough to leave bruises as you bury yourself inside her cunt and let go.
Sana’s hands fly to Pikachu’s hips, nails digging into his thighs as she’s filled with hot, thick cum from both ends. The sensation of it triggers her own orgasm, and for a few wonderful moments the three of you are locked in a pleasure so deep and all-consuming that it burns away anything else resembling a coherent thought.
Sana eventually wrests her head from Pikachu’s grasp, his slick cock slipping from between her lips. Some of his cum dribbles from her lips, but most of it is still in her mouth and the back of her throat, and you watch as she locks eyes with Pikachu before swallowing it all down.
You pull out of her, slowly, delighting in the sight of her well-fucked cunt quickly dripping your semen, appearing from her lips as a thick white mess before falling in heavy drops onto the ruined sheets.
Sana drops onto her side. Well-fucked, slick with sweat, chest heaving. Cum drips from her cunt and the corner of her mouth.
She locks eyes with you, but the look in her eyes is empty.
---
“You were distracted.”
She’s on her side, facing away from you, sheets drawn up to her chest - something she only did when she was upset with you. Everything about it was an accusation. You reach out and trace an idle pattern on her shoulder. Pikachu had left soon after the fucking had ended, mumbling something about catching up with Chaeyoung, leaving the two of you alone in a Barcelona hotel room that felt heavy with something unsaid.
“I wasn’t,” you lie. “I was just…”
“Just what?”
“Just… I don’t know. I’m tired. Been a long day.”
She finally turns her head to look at you. Brow furrowed, and eyebrows curled in a look of disbelief. She doesn’t say anything, just holds your eyes for a second before turning back to her side.
“Sure,” she says. “Whatever.”
“Sana-”
“You’ve been somewhere else since before the concert tonight,” she says.
It’s quiet for a moment. It was true; your sister’s call and your mother’s condition had been at the very top of your mind, even throughout the entirety of the concert and the post-concert sex that usually followed each event.
“I… just some stuff from back home,” you admit. “I might need to take some time away.”
Even with her back turned, the effect of your words is obvious. She tenses up, curls a little more into her pillow.
“Then go. Leave.”
Her words hit you with a little more force than you were ready for.
“Sana, you don’t understand. I don’t want to leave, it’s just-”
“Just what?” she says, turning onto her back. The sheet slips from her chest, leaving her breasts bare - but she doesn’t move to cover herself. “Now that you’ve fucked me all over the world you don’t need me anymore, is that it?”
“That’s not what I said, Sana.”
“It’s what you want to say,” she says. She turns onto her side again. “Go. Leave. I’ll tell the other managers you quit.”
The word upsets you - the idea that you would willingly leave this life is so ridiculous to you that it takes you a few moments to gather the words for a response.
“Sana, I’m not going to quit. I just need some time away, that’s all.”
“Whatever,” she says. “I can always find another man. Pick another toy out of the next fucking crowd.”
Her words hit hard, cause a lump of something unpleasant to form in your chest.
“Sana, please. You’re being unreasonable.”
“It’s fine. Go, leave. Quit. I’m used to being alone.”
“Alone? You have the girls-”
Sana lets out an indignant breath through her nose. “Please. They all hate me.”
“What?”
“They all hate me,” she repeats. “They barely want to work with me. You must know it by now. All that OT9, friends forever bullshit. Just a fucking act.”
“But … Momo and Mina? Your unit-”
“They hate me the most,” she answers, voice soft and vulnerable in a way you’d never heard it. “They all do. They think I’m some spoiled, attention-seeking brat. Nayeon tolerates me, and that’s because I do what she wants. You’re the only one that-... the only one who-”
She stops herself. She curls a little more into the side of the bed, as though she were protecting herself.
Silence reigns. She was right - the past few years of working with the girls had made it clear that the closeness they showed in front of the camera had been a well-orchestrated act, a perfectly-crafted mask, one put in place by the label to sell albums on the idea of a tight-knit, unbreakable bond between the girls. In truth they were like any other group of people - some got along, some didn’t, some were loved and some were hated.
You want to tell her about the call from your sister. You want to tell her about your mother. But you can’t, because you never could tell Minatozaki Sana the truth. From the moment she extended her hand and pointed at you at that concert two years ago her wish had been your command, and the very thought of upsetting her was anathema to you. The guys and some of the girls had teased you about it - about how you were more whipped than the others, more slave than fucktoy.
The truth was Sana had changed your life two years ago at that concert, and through her you’d been able to experience things that you could’ve never imagined in your wildest dreams - the sex, the travel, the money. The others saw it as slavish devotion, but in truth it was thankfulness. If being at her every beck and call was what you had to do to express even a modicum of the thankfulness she deserved for the life she had given you, then you did it gladly.
Some days, you thought that what you were feeling was something akin to love, and you deluded yourself into thinking that perhaps the great Minatozaki Sana might share in your feelings. You saw it sometimes in the way she nuzzled into your neck after sex, the way she smiled at you as she passed by you in a concert venue, the way she told you things she’d never tell the others - not even the girls. You spent most of your days together. Somedays, your face was the only familiar one she saw. You knew her better than you’d known anyone else in your life.
Your life revolved around her. She was at the center of it all. She was everything. She was, in many ways, the most important person in your world.
Your family was the only thing more important.
“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” you say, because it’s all you can say in that moment.
“No, you won’t,” Sana says. “You’re going to leave me. You’ve spent two years fucking the idol, making her your whore, and you don’t need her anymore.”
“Sana-”
“Leave,” she says, in a way that brooks no argument, even if her voice begins to waver. “Leave. Quit your position, or I’ll tell the managers to fire you. Either way, you’re done with us. With the company. With me.”
She doesn’t turn to face you. Not even when you leave the room.
---
The next week is a blur. The very next day you got a call from someone at the JYP head office, informing you your contract with the company had been terminated at the request of someone in the group. You were on a plane back home the day after that.
Pikachu and Buzz did their best to intervene, but in this company the word of the girls was law. The second Sana expressed a desire to get rid of you, the company moved quickly. Before the week was out the whirlwind of the last two years had suddenly and painfully drawn to a close, and you found yourself back home in an apartment that felt very little like home.
---
The month that followed seemed surreal - in the way that normal life seems when you’d spent the last two years living a high that you still weren’t sure was actually real.
But spending too many hours next to a hospital bed had made everything depressingly, soberingly real.
Sana had spared the time to drop by your home city on her way back to Seoul from the final show in Europe. It was on the way, she’d said, and she had some other business in the city to attend to. Probably some appearance at a fashion show, or some brand hiring her to put on their jewelry or dress and look pretty for a few hours. You had no idea. You weren’t privy to her schedule, not any more.
And so she dropped by, broke your heart in a coffee shop, and left.
Clips from the girls’ European finale concert in London stream on your phone, its tinny speakers and tiny screen a far cry from the deep thump of the music, the rush of coordination between managers and makeup artists and stylists and backup dancers and the rest of the small army it took to put on a show.
You should have been there. You should have been running around with Pikachu to ensure Dahyun’s piano was on stage in the right place in time for her solo. Jihyo always needed reassurance that her mic was in working order and you were one of the few people she trusted enough with her equipment. Jeongyeon had a silly habit of throwing her cowboy hat into the pit between the stage and the crowd with each solo performance, and the task had fallen to you to retrieve it every night.
But you weren’t there, in London, in a packed arena amidst thousands of fans. You were in your home city, next to a hospital bed. You watch on your phone as Sana begins her solo.
She was so far away.
---
Few things in your life could measure to the relief that came when the doctor gave you and your sister your mother’s diagnosis. Her condition could be easily managed with medication, and after some recovery while her body got used to the drugs, her quality of life would be near where it was before her hospital stay. You could almost feel the giant, oppressive weight being lifted from the shoulders of you and your sister, and while you often bickered and fought the way siblings do, you’d both spent a few minutes hugging in the room after the doctor had left.
You’re getting ready for your mother’s discharge from the hospital when you and your sister approach the nursing station to inquire about the bill.
“Your mother’s good to go,” said the nurse, a middle aged woman with kind but tired eyes.
Your sister gives you a look before turning back to the nurse. “Right, so, uh, should we expect the bill in the mail? Or-”
The nurse gives a sigh as she hits a few keys on her keyboard. Something flashes up on the screen.
“No, you’re settled up.”
You stand there in silence for a while.
“I don’t understand,” you say. The nurse gives another tired sigh, not bothering to look up at either you or your sister. Her mind was clearly already on her next patient.
“Your bill’s been paid,” she states, with a tone that one uses when they want to end a conversation. She gets up off her chair, gathers a clipboard, and leaves the nursing station - off to help another patient. “Make sure you don’t leave anything behind in that room. Have a good day, dears.”
---
“Things are good,” Pikachu says between sips of his beer. “And yeah, things are… good with her.”
“That’s awesome, bro. I’m happy for you two.”
“Yeah,” Pikachu says, a small smile perking up the corners of his mouth. “I still have to pinch myself sometimes. The Son Chaeyoung? Wild. I’m living a fucking Tumblr fanfic.”
You raise your own beer in a toast. He taps his against yours and you both take a long sip.
“Bro,” you begin, choosing your words carefully. “Now that I’m out of it… I… I hope you figure things out between Chaeyoung and the girls.”
Since you’d left the company, Pikachu had been candid in sharing Chaeyoung’s issues with the rest of the group, Nayeon in particular. The last conversation you’d had with Sana about her tense relationship with the girls was still fresh in your mind, and the last thing you wanted to see was Pikachu getting caught in the group’s internal conflicts.
He sucks air through his teeth. “Yeah,” he admits, “shit’s not great between her and the rest of the group. They all have their little rivalries, their little squabbles. Some more serious than others. The other managers and the company haven't picked up on it yet, but it’s there. They hate each other. Some of them do, anyway. You know how girls are.”
“Yeah,” you agree, taking a long sip from your beer. “I do. But you should know - it goes deeper than you think. Nayeon’s sneaky. I’d watch out for that one. Same with Momo and Mina. They… have ulterior motives, I think. I… might have overheard things about them plotting to break you two up.”
Pikachu doesn’t seem surprised, which is both surprising and worrying. “That doesn’t surprise me. I… I’m going to work through it with Chaeyoung. Hopefully find a way that doesn’t involve the group imploding.”
“Good, good. How’s Buzz?”
Pikachu sighs, steering his gaze out the window of the bar and onto the streets of Hongdae. “He’s… he’s alright. He’s filming his drama, so I don’t see him as often as I used to. He’s good, otherwise. Just busy.”
“That’s awesome.”
“Yeah… anything to distract himself from her, I guess.”
You didn’t need to be told anything further. You wished you’d been there to comfort Buzz the way he’d been there to help you while you dealt with your mother’s hospital stay.
“We need to hang out before I head back home,” you say. “The three of us. I’m here until the end of the week.”
It hadn’t been that long since you’d last been in Seoul - really only two months had passed since you’d left for the European leg of the girls’ tour that had seen Sana get you fired from the company - but it already felt like a homecoming of sorts. With your mother doing much better, you’d finally had the time to head back to gather your things from the Seoul apartment the company had set you up in while you worked for the girls. Pikachu and Buzz had been helpful in getting your stuff packed and in the mail to be sent back home.
She hadn’t contacted you, despite Pikachu and Buzz telling her you were in town. No calls. Not even a text.
“For sure, bro,” Pikachu says. “Maybe we invite some of the girls? You know Jeongyeon’s always down for a drink. Tzuyu’s birthday’s coming up, and you know how wild she gets after a few. Dahyun, maybe? I’ll bring Chaeyoung... I think the other girls might be busy, though…”
No mention of her, though. Pikachu catches on to what you’re thinking.
“Hey man, I’m sorry things didn’t work out with you and her,” he continues. “She was… she is… she’s a bit of a handful. The things Chaeyoung’s told me about her…”
“Honestly,” you begin, “it’s good that she ended things with me when she did. It forced me to go back to my family. If she hadn’t gotten me fired I would’ve stayed. My mom’s okay now, but it was touch and go there for a little bit. If I hadn’t gone home, and if something shitty happened and I missed it… I never would’ve forgiven myself.”
“It all works out, I guess,” Pikachu says, but his eyes are on his bottle of beer, his fingers picking away at the label, thoughtful.
“Thankfully, the company paid for the hospital bill.”
Pikachu’s eyes shoot up to yours, and his brow furrows. “What?”
“The company. JYP. They paid for my mom’s hospital bill. It was a pretty hefty one too, considering all the tests they ran and the treatment plan they have for her. I’m dropping by the building later to thank the big guy himself, personally.”
Pikachu stares at you for a long moment, before a look of disbelief washes across his features.
“Bro, there’s no way the company’s gonna pay for some random staff member’s family hospital bill. JYP’s not a bad dude, but we’re supposed to be the girls’ secrets, remember? There’s no way JYP would pay for your mom’s hospital bill and risk having it linked back to the girls or the company - let alone go all the way over to your hometown to pay it. How would they even know what hospital your mom was at, anyway?”
“Then who… You? Buzz? You were in Europe with the girls. No one else knew about my mom. Who would-”
The two of you stare at each other for a while. Realization dawns.
The smallest of smiles appears on Pikachu’s lips as he takes another sip of his beer.
---
Just as coming back to Seoul felt like a homecoming of sorts, so too did going to the concert feel like slipping back into a life you thought you’d left behind.
The boom of the music, the staff members and security hustling around in the background and beneath the 360 stage, carrying mics and bottled water and discarded cowboy hats - it all felt intensely familiar.
But you were in the crowd, not behind the barriers. There was no earpiece in your ear with the head manager telling you to fetch a new flat of water, or to find Momo’s mic, or get in place to set up Tzuyu’s bars for her solo performance. There was just the boom of the bass and the shouts and screams of the fans next to you - fans that had no idea that the man next to them had, just a few months ago, lived a life that they would have killed to experience with the girls they were paying to see.
Pikachu had been a real bro and set you up with VIP tickets for the pit, just a few feet from the stage. And there she is - right there, her back turned as the central stage covering rises and the concert begins to thunderous applause. She hasn’t seen you yet.
It doesn’t take long. It happens right at the end of the first song, when the group formation brings her in front of you.
Minatozaki Sana sees you. Her eyes lock onto yours - the same way they did two years ago, when she smiled and pointed at you and quite literally picked you out of the crowd. Her eyes widen in surprise - and then soften. Seconds pass. Her eyes are glassy.
You smile at her. She smiles back. She raises her hand - slowly, tentatively, and points at you.
She picks you again.
---
Author’s Note: That song’s been in my head for years now and I knew I had to write a story around it. And Sana is Sana, so…
…honestly, I probably fumbled a couple of the details with the ongoing Toy storyline. That’s what happens when you go a literal year and a half between entries. I’ve been thinking about wrapping up the story and I think I’ll do that in the next couple of chapters, just so people finally get some closure on this. See you in 2030 for the eventual Toy finale ;)
Thank you all for your ongoing support, despite my now bi-annual fic drops. Kazuha fic still in the works, and maybe more Ryujin.
Be excellent to yourselves and to each other. The world needs it. <3
ᘏᘏ thirsty bunn thursdays
male reader x lynn (triples) ※ more of my works on fanprose
It was just a few minutes ago when Lynn was screaming, begging you to keep it inside her and not let anything leak out.
“Oppa, no, I’m still sensitive—”
“Shh. Stay still, baby.”
You’re already between her thighs. She’s on her back: wrecked, thoroughly used, knees apart, a pillow under her hips, your fingers gently pressing back inside her what tried to leak out a minute ago. Her hand is over her mouth, trying to hide what she truly feels. Her thighs are trying to close around your wrist and failing.
“Oppa.”
“Yes, Lynn?”
“I thought we were done for the night. That’s not aftercare at all; that’s the opposite of aftercare.”
“I’m… taking care of it.” You scoff, then smirk while locking your eyes on her glistening folds. “You said you wanted me to keep it inside you.” Your fingers gather the remaining cum around her cunt and push it inside her. “So I’m making sure none of it is wasted.”
“But Oppa. That was thirty minutes ago when I was insane.”
“Were you?”
“Yes.” She covers her face with both hands. “I was completely insane. I’m a normal person now.”
“Mhmm...”
She peeks at you through her fingers. The candles you prepared for your date night flicker. The plaid shirt and her white dress she had on earlier are scattered messily on the floor somewhere with your own set of clothes.
“Oppa.”
“Yes, baby?”
“Are you not tired yet? Don’t you need to drink water?”
“Don’t worry about me, baby.”
“Did you eat anything before coming here? You worked so hard.”
“Baby. For tonight, I’m taking care of you, ok? Stop and just enjoy. You’ve been really busy and tired recently. Taking care of your members and doing your best at work.”
“Thank you, Oppa. I’m sorry I can’t stop. It’s so automatic for me now.”
You press your fingers in deeper, slow, and her hips lift off the pillow. The sound she makes is small and surprised. The pillow has a wet spot under her now. Her hands find your wrist and grip it.
“Oppa~”
“Shh.”
She breathes out. Her thighs go slack. Her grip on your wrist softens.
“Okay, Oppa.” She can barely contain her moans. “Don’t take it out yet.”
“I wasn’t going to.”
She’s quiet for a few seconds. You feel her flex around your fingers. Everything is still where you put it.
“Oppa.”
“Yes, Lynn?”
“Are your fingers not tired yet? Are your knees okay? You’ve been kneeling for a while.”
You laugh. You can’t help it. You lean down and kiss the inside of her thigh, and your fingers stay where they are.
“My knees and fingers are fine, baby. Stop trying to take care of me. Let me take care of you, okay?”
“Mhm. Mhmmm..” Her eyes close. Her hands find your hair. “Okay. Just for tonight.”
“Just for tonight.”
She’s quiet again. Your fingers move slowly. Her breathing evens out. You think she’s drifting. Then—
“Oppa.”
“Yes, baby?”
“… you can start fucking me again if you want.”
“You sure, baby?”
“Yes. I love you.” She says in Japanese.
comment an idol you’d want featured on thirsty bunn thursdays and I’ll feature them in the next installment. thirsty bunn thursdays are now also on fanprose.
It is done! Dubu and Chaeryeong together in my little Tinkerbell AU. Chaeryeong needs a little confidence boost as she goes through a little bit of a tough time, and Dubu makes sure she gets it.
Length 5.3K
Dahyun X Mreader X Chaeryeong
“Does this make my butt look big?” Chaeryeong asked, a slight frown on her face as she looked in the mirror.
“Not really.” Her partner responded. “I think with a little adjustment, we’ll be there, though. Here, let me.” The black skirt that Chaeryeong wore was already short, and if she bent over, her cheeks would definitely be out. Dahyun knew what the problem was. Chaeryeong had put it on just a little too low.
“You almost got it right. We just need to move this a little higher,” Dahyun said, raising the skirt a few inches higher, enough to where the end of the skirt curved perfectly around Chaeryeong’s pale cheeks, accentuating her curves. “There we go, that’s better.”
“Thank you, Unnie.”
“It’s no problem, I used to make the same mistakes,” Dahyun said, waving away Chaeryeong’s gratitude. “You’ll get it soon enough.”
“I hope so. I’ve been struggling a lot.” Chaeryeong pauses, pursing her lips as she considers telling Dahyun about her troubles. The older woman was someone she trusted a lot, but at the same time, she didn’t want to burden Dahyun. She exhales, “Do you have a moment?”
“Yeah,” Dahyun replies, smiling at the younger woman. She could see the troubled look in Chaeryeong’s eyes, and it made Dahyun feel good to know that the younger workers relied on her. “Let’s go to the break room.” The pair walked together, attracting some gazes from the others.
“Go get them, you two!” Sana shouted, her cheeks pulled high into a bright, toothy smile. The Japanese woman turned to the side, pulling on Sullyoon’s arm. “We should do that, too!” Sullyoon was less than enthused. She didn’t say a thing, though, as Sana began to relay all the ideas they could do together. “I can find my old uniform, or do you want to get something matching?” Sana asked. Dahyun chuckled at hearing that. She knew how troublesome Sana could be when she really wanted to do something, and it was so hard to go against her with how cute she was. The older woman silently wished Sullyoon good luck; there was little she could do to stop Sana.
Dahyun and Chaeryeong walked to the breakroom, giggling. It was hard to stay silent when they had both witnessed Sana’s overactive nature. They take seats in the empty room. “So what did you want to talk about?” Dahyun asked, jumping right into the problem.
Chaeryeong took a deep breath. It was difficult for her to process everything she wanted to ask and discuss, so she started where she thought it would be best to begin. “Dahyun, why did you start working here?”
“Why did I start?” Dahyun repeats, blinking a few times as she considers her reason for working at Tinkerbell. “Mmm, well, I started for two reasons. The first would probably be that I wanted to explore my sexuality, and this was sort of a safe place to do so. I grew up in a very religious household, so topics like sex and kinks and well, other things like that didn't happen.” Dahyun chuckles to herself, reflecting on how she was when she started.
“I…well, you hear stories, right? From friends about things they've done with their boyfriends and partners in general, wild nights out. I didn't have that experience, and so I felt a little self-conscious about it. I get old enough to move out and be on my own, and so I decide I'll make a big leap, join here.” Dahyun cuts herself off, “There's more to why I chose here, I can tell you about that later, though, let's just say some of the older workers are involved.”
“The second, and some would say the more important reason, was that I needed money and a lot of it. I did not make good financial decisions.” Dahyun laughs as her memories play in her mind. “Let me tell you, buying a giant inflatable floaty is a terrible decision even if you use it as a bed, but, yeah. Those are my reasons. A little bit of exploration and some money. Working here solved both those problems, and I've made some good friends along the way.”
Chaeryeong nods her head. “That's good. It's just that I've been thinking about why I'm here. I'm not really getting many people coming to me. So it's like, why am I still here? Am I not good at my job?” Chaeryeong twiddles her thumbs under her table. “Have you ever had something like this?”
“Oh, honey, of course I did. I was terrible at this job. Do you know how embarrassing it is when you have a customer ask to move on from a blowjob? I mean, he hasn't cum, and it doesn't even feel like he's close; he just wants it to end. I came in with no experience, and word got around pretty quickly that I wasn't good at this. The staff had to really try to sell me to the customers. It was awful.” Dahyun tilts her head, having to remember her struggles, making her feel a little down. “The point is, I was terrible and thinking the same things you were. Jihyo noticed and helped me, really gave me a confidence boost. We actually partnered up for this event back then. It helped me get a few clients I still see now. We did a whole routine of her teaching me how to do things, from handjobs to riding. She even had me learn how to do a bobojob.” Dahyun says, looking down at her relatively small chest. The motion makes Chaeryeong smile. “ I probably would've given up if it weren’t for her. Chaeryeong, if you need any help at all, you can come to me. I'll help you in any way I can.”
Chaeryeong nods her head. “Thanks, this is really what I needed. It's nice having someone who understands what I'm feeling.” Chaeryeong feels Dahyun's hand on her back, the soft pats making her feel more comfortable.
“Alright, now let’s put on our working faces. We have a customer to please.” The pair smiles at each other and begins to head to their room for the night. “Ah, we probably should've talked about this more. What kind of roleplay do we want to do? What are we feeling tonight?” It was an important question that the pair hadn't really considered before this. Dahyun now felt a little worried; they needed to come up with something quick.
“How about…” Chaeryeong wracked her brain thinking of possible scenarios to run. “Maybe…” Chaeryeong kept fumbling in her mind, speaking a few words before she had a fully fleshed out thought. “Naughty school girls are a bit overdone. So what if we did something like sex is our homework?”
Dahyun cocked her head to the side, her brows furrowing. “Would that make the customer our dad? And we're sisters?” Dahyun tried to hold back a laugh; her lips quivered before she eventually broke. “You're starting to sound like Sana.” She said with a laugh. Chaeryeong immediately blushed and covered her face. She was starting to sound like Sana.
Chaeryeong waved away the thought, “Okay, maybe not that idea.”
“Mmm, we might need to go with the naughty school girls idea.” Dahyun tried her best to think of other things to do. “We could be good girls, getting extra credit from our teacher? How does that sound? I mean, we look like innocent students. Maybe the customer could play the part of a teacher, taking advantage of us.” The more Dahyun thought about it, the less she liked the idea.
“I think we're just going to have to settle for us being naughty school girls. At the very least, we could be in love with our teacher. Like, fawn over him, it gives us a slightly different angle.” Dahyun nods along to the idea.
“Okay, I think we could make that work. Let's do it.” Satisfied with the idea, the pair makes sure everything in the room is set. Because they had chosen their outfits well in advance, they had managed to secure a special room. While all the standard rooms were more or less simple bedrooms, theirs was a classroom. If someone were to walk into the room, they would probably be more than a little confused, that is, if they weren't expecting it. Dahyun and Chaeryeong had some fun while they were waiting for their first appointment. They drew on the whiteboard, writing their names and drawing what came to mind, mostly butterflies and hearts.
The pair were caught in the middle of their artistry, the door to the room opening suddenly. They both jumped, their hands shaking as you stepped into the room. Chaeryeong leaned against the wall, a hand to her chest as she took a deep breath. “T-teacher! You should have told us you were coming back.” Dahyun says with a slight stutter. She jumped into the best line she could think of on a moment’s notice. Dahyun did a small double-take at the board and tried her best to cover their drawings.
It took you a moment to get your bearings, mostly because of the outfits they were wearing. They were school uniforms that had definitely been modified. What stood out the most to you was their backsides. The skirts were so high and short that their asses were clearly visible as they stood up. You could even see small bits of their panties; it was a black fabric that clashed perfectly with their pale skin. It seemed like the pair noticed your stares and the growing bulge in your pants. The more experienced Dahyun made her move. “Are you getting hard because of us, teacher?” The petite woman moved away from the board and toward you, her hips swaying with every step she took. “Do you like us that much?”
Chaeryeong began to follow Dahyun's lead, moving closer to your left. “We don't mind, you know? We like that you're getting hard because of us, isn't that right, Dahyun?”
Dahyun nods her head, “Right. I don't mind at all. I like that my favorite teacher is thinking of me like that.” Dahyun had a sly smile on her face as she grabbed your right hand. She presses herself against your chest. “I saw you staring at our asses. Do you want to touch them?” Chaeryeong does the same on your left.
“We won't tell anyone. We like you a lot.” The pair had their hands hovering inches from their plush rears. You couldn't resist their calls. You place your hands on their pale ass, squeezing the soft cheeks. Dahyun and Caheryeong smile at you, placing their hands on your bulging crotch. “That's it, touch all you want,” Chaeryeong said, her voice deeper as she worked with Dahyun to get your belt off.
“The two of you look so good,” you tell them, finally managing to get some words out.
“I'm glad you think so. But I think we would look prettier doing something else. Something naughty.” Chaeryeong whispers. Her words have you giving their asses a rougher squeeze, drawing slight moans out from the young women. “We've been thinking about you like this for a long time.”
“Mhmm, you have no idea how long we've thought about you like this. The way we've touched ourselves, imagining it was you doing it, taking us. We're so happy that you like our bodies.” The pair finally has your belt undone and looks over at the desk in the corner. “Why don't you take a seat? We know how hard you work. Let your students do some of the work.” Caheryeong and Dhyun walk you over to what would be your desk. You take a seat on the office chair and lean back, watching as the pair drop to their knees and pull down your pants. Chaeryeong unconsciously wets her lips as she holds onto the waistband.
“Should we, Dahyun?” Chaeryteong asks the older woman.
“We should,” Dahyun replies quickly. Together, they pull down your underwear, your hard cock flopping out of its confines. “Ohh, it's bigger than I imagined,” Dahyun whispered, her lips curling upward into a smile.
“Do you think it's going to fit?” Chaeryeong asks. Even if they were bluffing about your size, it felt good to have the two beautiful women practically drooling over it.
“We'll make it,” Dahyun giggles. “Have the first taste, Chaeryeong.”
“Can I?” Dahyun nods. Chaeryerong glances at you with a deep smile as she inches closer to you. You feel her warm breath against the head. Her slick lips wrap around it, slowly coming together over the center, before she pulls away. “It's better than we imagined.” She says softly to her partner before going in for more. Chaeryeong’s slim hand slowly wraps around your shaft. Dahyun moves the younger woman's hair behind her ear, holding it as Chaeryeong wraps her lips around you once more. You shudder as her tongue grazes you. Chaeryeong brings it around again, swirling it around the tip as she stares at you, her eyes asking for approval.
“K-keep going, it feels good.” Now, with your permission, Chaeryeong begins to bob her head. Her warm saliva coats your cock, bathing it as her lips stretch around your length.
“Do you like it that much, sir?” Dahyun asked patiently, waiting for her turn.
“Yes,” you mumble, struggling with the waves of pleasure crashing over you as Chaeryeong reaches the base. She hummed softly, making her throat vibrate around you. “H-how did you get so good at this, Chaeryeong?”
Chaeryeong pulls back, her hand stroking your shaft as she catches her breath. “I had a lot of practice, but don't worry, teacher. I didn't practice with anyone. I used a toy. I wanted you to be my first. Dahyun and I made sure every part of our bodies is ready for you.”
Dahyun moves to your side, kissing your cheek. “She's right, we made sure we were ready for you, sir.” The pale woman grabs your hand and places it back on her ass. “We mean every part of our body.” She told you, adding emphasis, so you knew everything was on the table. The thought of fucking either woman in the ass turns you on; it makes your cock throb.
Feeling this, Chaeryeong pauses her handjob. “Don't cum yet. We don't want any of it going to waste.”
“Every drop has to go inside us,” Dahyun adds. You nod along, agreeing to their stipulation, not that you had other plans. “We're going to share the first one, so you'd better have enough for us to get our own after.” Chaeryeong scoots to the side, giving the older woman space to kneel between your legs. Together they attack your length, their warm, slick tongue lapping at the head, with Dahyun and Chaeryeong occasionally sharing a kiss with you at the center. You fill the rooms with your moans as the pair works you over. You don't even notice them unbuttoning each other's shirts. All you can think about as you tilt your head back and stare at the ceiling is their soft lips moving along your shaft.
They gave you small kisses; had Dahyun and Chaeryeong chosen a darker-colored lipstick, it would have been more visible on you. You had to listen to the girls moan softly as they tasted your precum. “I can't wait to have the real thing,” Chaeryeong giggled before planting her lips back on your shaft. At this point, your muscles were tightening. You were about to blow, and these women knew it. They purposely slowed down. First was Chaeryeong, she grabbed your shaft, and coated her lips in your precum, tracing them with the head of your cock. Dahyun did the same, before Chaeryeong and her decided to each take half of the head and suck on their respective side. It was too much for you.
You blow your load, and as more of your cum spurts out, Dahyun takes over, engulfing the head and letting your cum fill her mouth, her tongue brushing along the bottom of the tip as she strokes your length. Chaeryeong watched from the side, biting her fingertip at the erotic sight. Once your orgasm had ended Dahyun pulled away from you and pulled Chaeryeong in by her open shirt/ She pressed her lips against the younger woman's, her mouth opening as she shared your cum with Chaeryeong. It was a deep kiss, their tongue exploring each other's mouths as they savored the salty taste of your cum.
The sight kept you hard, and how could it not? These half-naked women wanted you and were willing to share you. You took deep breaths, trying to get some energy back before they refocused their attention on you.
For not that didn't seem like a problem as Dahyun pulled Chaeryeong's head back gently and hovered over the younger woman's face, letting the mixture of semen and saliva drip into Chaeryeong's mouth and down her throat as she gratefully accepted the gift. Chaeryeong even giggles, pointing to you. Dahyun glances at you and joins in the laughter. “It looks like you want to be a part of this. How about we move on, Chaery?”
Chaeryeong gives a slight nod, “Sure, I do want to have a taste with a different mouth.” Chaeryeong rises from the floor and stands next to the older woman. “Who do you want first, teacher?” Chaeryeong presses her body against Dahyun, their black lace bras rubbing against each other.
“Maybe we should strip a little to show him what we each have to offer,” Dahyun suggests.
“I think you may be right.” Dahyun stepped behind the younger woman and peeled off her already-open shirt, letting the black bra take all the attention. Dahyun's pale hands snaked up Chaeryeong's body, where she squeezed the younger woman's tits. The small moan that escaped Chaeryeong's mouth had you wanting more. You watched as Dahyun pulled on the bra's cups, revealing Chaeryeong's tiny brown nipples. They were cute, perfectly fitting Chaeryeong's modest chest.
“They look nice, don't they?” Dahyun gives the small tits a gentle squeeze. “You should give him a taste, Chaeryeong.”
“Do you want to taste them?” Chaeryeong asks nervously. The tone in her voice and the doe eyes she looks at you with make her all the more cute. Dahyun’s fingers find the younger woman's nipple, and she twists it gently. Chaeryeong rests her body against the older woman's as Dahyun pinches the sensitive nub. You nod your head emphatically. Dahyun guides Chaeryeong onto your lap. The young woman sits on one of your legs. Chaeryeong blushes, her pale skin turning a bright red as you lean in and run your tongue around the nub. Chaeryeong sucks in a breath and shuts her eyes. She hums in approval as your tongue swirls around her nipple.
Not one to be left out, Dahyun lets her shirt fall off her shoulders. She had a similar bra, though it came off quickly. Dahyun plopped herself down on our other leg. She pushed out her chest for you to suck on. You switch your focus, going to Dahyun's dusty-pink nubs. She lets out low moans, craning her neck as your tongue flicks her nipple.
“Can I go first?” Chaeryeong asks, staring at you with big doe eyes. You feel her hand wrapping around your cock again. She was definitely eager. You had to give her points for that. The timing could have been better, though. You release Dahyun's nipple and look at the younger woman.
“Why don't you take off that skirt and those panties?” Chaeryeong smiles softly and stands up. She fiddles with her skirt for a moment, letting the anticipation build before dropping the last articles of clothing. She was already wet, her nectar glistening on her thighs. “Such a good girl. I think I'll take that pretty pink pussy of yours.” You turn to Dahyun, who understands what to do. She moves off your lap, allowing Chaeryeong to climb onto it. You stop her from straddling you, though, wanting her to face Dahyun instead. You grab your cock, aligning it with Chaeryeong's entrance. You and Dahyun share a glance, she places her hands on the younger woman's shoulders, and pushes her onto your cock. Chaeryeong was tight; it felt like you might break her.
You and Chaeryeong both fill the fake classroom with your moans. Dahyun smiled as she pushed her younger coworker further onto your cock, watching as it disappeared into her cunt. “You have no idea how much Chaeryeong has been wanting this, sir. Please use her however you want.” Dahyun pats Chaeryeong's cheek gently, “Tell the teacher how you feel.”
“I feel so good,” Chaeryeong moaned, leaning forward as your cock reached deep into her core. “Y-you're filling me up. I-I,” Chaeryeong struggles to form the words for a second, her mind short-circuiting. “Fuck me, sir. Please, I want to make you happy.”
You grip Chaeryeong's slim waist, holding her against your crotch, keeping your cock buried in her tight cunt a few seconds longer. The young woman's walls were flexing around you, practically sucking you in. Chaeryeong groans as you begin to slide out of her, your cock glistening with her nectar as you pull out a little over half of your cock. The young woman had thought you would pull out more, but you pulled the trigger early, pulling back down onto you. The head rammed into her womb, leaving her seeing stars. “You're so tight, Chaeryeong.” You can't wait any longer, you begin to bounce her on your lap, her tits bouncing in time with her. It started slow, like a march, but you desired more pleasure. You began to thrust your hips as you brought her down.
Chaeryeong cried out, pleasure coursing through her body as your desires for her body became more known. Dahyun watched as you ravaged the young woman, your hand shifting from Chaeryeong's waist. It slid along her toned stomach until it reached her soft chest. You squeeze her tits, your nails digging into her skin. “Ahh, s-sir,” Chaeryeong mumbled. She loved the way you wanted her. Even now, she could tell you were holding back. She started to think about having you come back again, just you and her. It was a thought that quickly vanished, though, as she felt Dahyun's lips on hers.
The older woman wasn't just kissing her, though; she was making sure that Chaeryeong was as tight as possible. Dahyun's hand was between the younger woman's legs, rubbing her clit. Chaeyeong struggled with all the sensations she was feeling. Her moans turned into whines; she was getting close to cumming. There was tightening in her core that kept coiling. Dahyun smiled. She knew the younger woman was on the verge of cumming. “She's going to cum, sir. Does she have your permission?"
“No, she can't cum yet.”
“You heard the man,” Dahyun whispered into the younger woman's ear. “Don't cum yet, let him enjoy your tight pussy a little bit longer.”
Chaeryeong was honestly trying her best, but your cock was moving like a piston inside her, and with Dahyun's skilled fingers toying with her clit she was about to blow. Her body was tingling all over. “I want to cum! Please let me cum!” She shouted. “Let me cum on your big, beautiful cock, sir. I can't hold it anymore!” Dahyun made sure to hold the younger woman down as her body began to twitch.
“Just a little bit longer,” You groan. You were about to cum, too. Chaeryeong could tell, though her body was sending so many signals, that she didn't realize your cock was throbbing inside her. All she could tell was that the thick cock inside her was still wrecking her. “I'm cumming, Chaeryeong!” You shout, ramming your length as deep as you can. You hold the thin woman against you, making sure every drop of your thick cum is inside her. Chaeryeong cums with you, shouting to the heavens as you fill her. She feels a warmth spreading across her body as you fill her womb. Her mind grows fuzzy.
Dahyun kisses the younger woman, “You did great. It's my turn now.” She whispers. Chaeryeong can't hear a thing, though; the intense climax has her ears ringing. All she could do at this moment was rest against you, her sweaty back sticking to your chest. You give Chaeryeong a few small thrusts, making sure the last of your load painted her walls.
You take a moment to rest, groping her modest mounds as you watch Dahyun bend herself over the desk, her fingers between her legs as she plays with herself. “Don't wait too long, sir. I need your cock too,”
You slowly bring Chaeryeong off your lap, letting her rest on the chair while you get behind Dahyun, your hand moving along her plush rear. You both look over at the younger woman, noticing how she seems to have gone to sleep. You laugh first, and Dahyun tries to cover hers up. “She's pretty good, Dahyun.”
“I told you she would be. So what do you think? Do you want to spend more time with her?”
“I sure as hell wouldn't mind.” You reply. “I'm glad you got her as a teammate. I have to admit I thought it was weird at first. She, you know, stares off into space sometimes. It's hard to gauge someone like that. I mean, every time I saw her in passing, she looked a little zoned out.”
“She can be like that, but she's a great girl, pretty kinky, too. Don't tell her I told you that, though.” Dahyun smiles at the sleeping younger woman. “We should let her rest.” The pale woman looked over her shoulder at you, shaking her ass while you gripped the soft piece of flesh. “Now, get to business and fuck this ass. I've been waiting all day.”
You strike Dahyun's cheek before pulling them apart. “Look at you all soft one moment and then so dirty the next.” You take a moment to press the head of your slick cock against Dahyun's ass. Before you fuck her, you decide to tease your favorite worker, grinding against her fat ass as your hands reach for her modest chest. Dahyun hums, not one to complain about you playing with her tits. The soft caresses you gave them before each squeeze had her getting wetter by the second. She already knew you were going to be rough when you decided to put it in. She was visualizing it in her mind.
As you prod the ring of muscle, Dahyun prepares herself. “That’s it, fuck this ass you love so much. Teach me whose ass this is.” You hold onto Dahyun's waist and push into her. She cranes her neck, letting a low guttural moan come out from between her lips as you stretch her wide open. One of her hands grips the desk while the other plays with her pussy. You push in slowly, coating her walls with Chaeryeong's nectar. Once you're seated deep inside her ass, you bring your hand down on her pale cheek, leaving a handprint on her.
“Such a dirty girl you are. I expected more from my top student.”
“I'm sorry, sir. I'm just a filthy slut. I've been thinking about your cock for days, how much I needed it inside me. It feels even better than I imagined.” Dahyun moaned, pushing her ass back against you, trying to get any motion going.
You spank Dahyun again, her milky skin turning a bright red. “If you want it so badly then show me. Show me how hard you've been studying.” Dahyun bites her lip as she bounces her ass against you. She does all the work, sliding her body along your cock like it was a toy. Moans spill from her lips as you deliver more strikes to her plush rear.
“Fuck me, please. I need more.” She begged.
You grip Dahyun's waist, your hands digging into her smooth skin. “Beg for it. Tell me how much you want it.”
“Fuck me until I can't walk right tomorrow. I need your big fat cock to ruin my little ass. I want to be dreaming of it.” That was more than enough for you. You slide out of Dahyun, leaving the tip inside her tight ass before driving it back inside. “Fuck– yes! Just like that!” You smirk. The dynamic between you and Dahyun had you two pushing each other to your limits. You hold onto her waist tightly as you begin your thrusts. The room is filled with your moans along with the clapping of your bodies when they collide. Dahyun’s hand found her cunt once more, she pushed two fingers into her neglected slit as you ravaged the other hole.
Dahyun was like a vice, her walls squeezing down on your rubbing each and every inch of your sensitive cock. You lay kisses on Dahyun's back, making her whine. “T-that's not fair,” she says.
“You know you love this.” The combination of soft kisses on her back while you ruthlessly claimed her ass drove Dahyun crazy.
“Y-you can't do this to me,” she whined.
“You can't stop me, and you don't want to.” Dahyun knew you were right. She stayed silent, as silent as a woman who was loving having a cock split her in two could be anyway. She let her moans spill out, their pitch slowly climbing as she got closer to cumming. “Oh fuck!” She cried out as she felt you push your thumb into her. “I'm going to cum,” she mumbled. She repeated herself twice more before she forced her eyes shut and screamed, her orgasm overcoming her.
Dahyun's ass tightens around your, constricting around your cock as she desperately tries to make you cum. You give the young woman a few more thrusts before finally blowing your load. You bury yourself inside Dahyun’s pale and petite body, cumming inside her ass. Dahyun lays the side of her head against the cool desk, drool dripping from the corner of her mouth as she feels your warm cum flooding her body. “Oh, fuck yeah,” she says softly, her hand moving in small circles around her clit. The young woman feels full. She smiles, enjoying the way your cock sits inside her for the few minutes you spend recovering. As you drag yourself out of Dahyun, you leave her a mess. Cum dribbles out of her running down her legs as it leaves her gaping ass. Dahyun shivers as the air hits her sensitive nerves. “Can you–” the room's phone rings. The two of you already knew your time was up. “Shoot, I was hoping to go again.”
“Looks like we’ll have to save it for next time.” You peek over at Chaeryeong, the younger woman, who is beginning to stir at the sound of the phone ringing. “You'll have to get her ready for the next guest. You should have some time to do that. The two of you did great, by the way.” You plant a kiss on the back of Dahyun's head, letting her remain against the desk. “Chaeryeong!” You shout, snapping the young woman from her signature distant gazing. “I'll see you again one of these days. You were pretty good. It was nice meeting you.”
Chaeryeong stands up and bows quickly, “Thank you, sir!” The act is enough to draw a giggle out of Dahyun. Chaeryeong walks up to you on wobbly legs and helps you get dressed. “Please come again soon,” she tells you before she leaves. Chaeryeong smiles to herself. She had someone coming back to see her. She felt a little more confident in her abilities now. “Did you hear that, unnie? He said he'll come by for me!” Dahyun shared in Chaeryeong's happiness.
“Make sure you can handle him; dozing off is bad business,” she says with a laugh. Chaeryeong covers her face, blushing as she realizes she fell asleep on the job.
“I-I'll try my best.”
Girl group smut stories (F Idol/M reader) @ggidolsmuts - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
