The doorbell rang. Jiwon groaned into her hands. The repair guy was early. She hadn't even finished stacking her worksheet onto the crooked IKEA shelf, the same one she'd assembled wrong twice before giving up and kicking it into place.
"Just a second!" she called, tripping over a half-unpacked box of teacups. The AC wheezed behind her, blowing lukewarm air. She yanked the door open expecting an old technician. Instead, a guy in a faded gray shirt stood there, toolbox in one hand, scratching his cheek with the other.
"Lee Jinho," he said, blinking slowly. "From 3B."
Jiwon stared. This wasn't some repairman this was *the* Lee Jinho from 3B, She heard about him when she arrived at the apartment. "Oh," she said, voice cracking slightly. "Right. The… handy guy."
Jinho grinned. "Handyman, but yeah." He nodded toward the AC, which chose that moment to shudder loudly. "Sounds about right."
Jiwon stepped aside, suddenly aware of the mess, laundry piled on the couch, unopened ramen packets stacked like a monument to her procrastination. Jinho didn't seem to notice. He walked past her and dropped his toolbox by the AC.
"Damn," he whistled, crouching to check the vents. "This thing's older than my grandma." He pried open the panel easily, revealing dusty wires and what looked like a dried leaf. "You ever clean this?"
"I just moved in," Jiwon said defensively. "It was like this when I got here."
Jinho snorted. "Landlord special." He pulled out a can of compressed air and blew out a cloud of dust so thick it looked like a sandstorm. The AC gasped and went silent.
"Did you kill it?" Jiwon asked.
"Nah," Jinho said, voice muffled as he dug inside. "Just gave it a break." There was a clang, then a curse. "Found the problem." He held up a corroded fuse like it was a dead bug. "This thing's been running on hope."
Jiwon squinted at it. "Can you fix it?"
"Not yet." Jinho wiped his hands on his jeans. "I need a new fuse. I'll grab one from my place."
Before she could protest, he was already at the door. "Be back in five," he called, jogging down the hallway. The door clicked shut.
Jiwon wiped her sweaty forehead. The apartment felt hotter without him. She cracked a window, but the outside air was just as stale. Her shirt clung to her back. When the knock came, she nearly tripped rushing to answer.
Jinho stood there, slightly out of breath, holding up a small bag. "Got it," he said, shaking it. The fuse rattled inside.
He went straight to the AC, popping in the new fuse. Jiwon hovered behind him, arms crossed. The air felt thicker now, her skin prickling with sweat.
Jinho flipped the breaker. For a second, nothing happened, then the AC roared to life, blowing cool air.
"Told you," Jinho said, grinning as he wiped his dusty hands on his jeans. "Just needed love. And a fuse that wasn't Jurassic."
Without thinking, Jiwon hugged him tight, face pressed into his shirt. He smelled good even when drenched in sweat. She registered his solid warmth for a few seconds, then jumped back like she'd been burned.
"Sorry!" she squeaked, flapping her hands. Her face burned hotter than the apartment had been. "I don't know why I did that."
Jinho just laughed. "No worries, Miss Park." He gathered his tools. "Consider it part of the service." He snapped his toolbox shut. "You can pay me later, if the AC doesn't act up in the next week." His grin was teasing. "Which it won't. Because I'm that good."
Jiwon tugged at her shirt, suddenly aware how ridiculous she must look sweaty and flustered. "Thanks," she muttered stiffly.
"You should change the filter soon," Jinho added, nodding at the vents. "Unless you like breathing old dust."
"How much would that cost?" Jiwon asked, mentally calculating her budget.
"80 to 100k won," Jinho said. "Or cheaper if you buy the filter. I'll install it for free."
Jiwon blinked. "For free?"
Jinho grinned. "Well, you *will* pay me for the AC repair. The filter's complementary." He winked at her.
Jiwon's brain short-circuited. "That's not how business works."
Jinho leaned against the doorframe. "It is when your neighbor's cute," he said casually.
Jiwon pointed at him, finger hovering. "That's *unprofessional*."
Jinho laughed loudly. "Relax, Jiwon-ssi. I'm kidding. Mostly." He swung his toolbox. "The free labor's a 'welcome to the building' gift. Everyone gets one."
The next day.
Jinho parked his van crookedly across two spots. The brakes squeaked. He didn’t care about lines, never had. As the afternoon light faded, he turned off the engine with a twist of his wrist. His back cracked when he stretched. Three jobs today: leaky pipes and a chatty grandmother who forced kimchi pancakes on him until he could barely move.
Jiwon saw the van first. The dented bumper and peeling "Handy Man & More" decal were unmistakable. She was coming from the bus stop, her satchel heavy with worksheets and half-graded student assignments. Her steps slowed without meaning to. She watched Jinho hop out, his shirt riding up just enough to show a strip of sun-warmed skin as he grabbed his toolbox.
The elevator doors were closing when she ran up. "Hold the door!" she called, more breathless than she meant to be. Jinho’s hand shot out, stopping the doors effortlessly. "Fancy meeting you here," he said with a crooked grin as she slipped in beside him. His fingers tapped his toolbox.
Jiwon adjusted her satchel strap, hyper-aware of how close they stood. "Long day?" she asked, nodding at his dusty shirt.
Jinho rolled his shoulders with a groan. "Mrs. Lee’s ancient plumbing picked today to give up," he said, rubbing dried grime off his arm. "Three hours of convincing her pipes not to flood the place." He flashed her a grin. "You?"
Jiwon lifted her satchel slightly. "Middle schoolers who think Mozart 'needs more bass drops.'"
The elevator dinged at the third floor. Jinho stepped halfway out, then turned to hold the door. "Tell them to try Beethoven with trap beats," he said flatly. "Really mess with their heads."
She snorted. "Maybe that’ll stop them from requesting BTS arrangements for cello quartet."
His laugh echoed as the doors closed between them. Through the narrowing gap, she caught the shake of his shoulders and the edge of a tattoo under his rolled-up sleeve. Then the elevator jerked upward, cutting off her view.
At home, Jiwon barely remembered locking the door before yanking off her damp shirt. It clung stubbornly to her sweaty skin. Her satchel hit the coffee table hard, scattering worksheets everywhere. She kicked off her socks mid-stride, leaving them crumpled near the bathroom. Her jeans fought her, that stubborn button before she finally shimmied out with a groan.
The shower hissed to life before she was fully in. The first lukewarm spray hit her shoulders like a slap. She gasped, flinching away before forcing herself under the water. The pressure was weak, another thing to complain about later but right now, it was perfect. She tipped her head back, letting the water rinse the day away. Steam filled the tiny bathroom.
Blindly, she grabbed the soap. as she scrubbed. The water warmed finally, easing the knots in her shoulders. She closed her eyes, letting the heat sink in.
After the shower, the humid air clung to her skin. She toweled off fast, digging through her dresser for something breathable. She landed on an old spaghetti strap top and shorts so short they’d shock her mother. Perfect. She pulled them on without thinking. The cool cotton felt good against her warm skin.
She paused just a second before pulling out an old hoodie from the back of her closet oversized, frayed at the edges, stolen from an ex years ago. She tugged it on, the sleeves swallowing her hands, and stared at herself in the mirror. Did she look homeless, or just defeated? The mirror seemed to say *both*.
The convenience store doors slid open with a tired wheeze just as she adjusted the hoodie’s drooping neckline. Harsh fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, stretching her shadow across the linoleum. She headed straight for the refrigerated section, flip-flops slapping against the tile. A pack of kimbap, the last one, slightly crushed caught her eye. She grabbed it without thinking, along with a bottle of soju so cold it stung her fingers.
The store’s AC blasted so hard she could see her own breath as she turned toward the cashier then froze. Jinho was already there, dumping instant rice and boiled eggs onto the counter like a man who’d given up on cooking. His ramyeon packet slid after them. He didn’t notice her at first, too busy digging for his wallet while the cashier sighed at his sad dinner choices.
Jiwon’s grip tightened around the soju. She could still retreat, pretend she forgot something but Jinho glanced over his shoulder and spotted her. His eyebrows shot up. "Jiwon-ssi," he said, grinning. "Fancy meeting you here." He nodded at her soju. "Big plans?"
Her palm was sweaty. His sad dinner ramyeon, a boiled egg, and instant rice sat between them. Before she could stop herself: "You wanna drink this at my place?"
Jinho nearly dropped his bag. The plastic crinkled loudly as they walked back toward the apartments. "That’s sudden," he said, amused. "Everything okay?"
She kept her eyes ahead, swinging the soju lightly. "Just being neighborly."
He shrugged. "Sure. Why not?"
Silence.
The quiet between them was thick. Jinho drummed his fingers against his thigh. Jiwon focused on the sound of her flip-flops. She could feel him glancing at her, but when she looked, he was staring straight ahead.
Three steps later, he cracked first. "So," he drawled. "Middleschoolers and Beethoven trap remixes, huh?"
She snorted, tension dissolving. "Oh my god," she laughed, punching his arm. "You’re *awful*."
He clutched his arm dramatically. "Violence? I thought music teachers were supposed to be *gentle*." He wobbled like a Victorian heroine, his dinner swinging absurdly. "I’m wounded, Jiwon-ssi."
They laughed, breathless then their eyes met. Jinho’s grin froze. Jiwon’s laughter died. The streetlamp flickered, casting his face in gold. Two realizations hit her: his eyelashes were unfairly long for a handyman, and they were standing *way* too close.
The silence buzzed until Jinho cleared his throat. "So," he said, voice rough. "We’re here."
She blinked. The apartment lobby loomed ahead. They both reached for the keycard sensor at the same time, fingers brushing. A spark real or imagined jumped between them. She yanked her hand back like she’d been burned.
The elevator doors slid open. They stepped inside. Jinho leaned against the back wall, shifting his weight. The plastic bag in his hand crinkled. His thumb hovered over the third-floor button but Jiwon caught his wrist.
Her grip was light. Just fingers brushing his pulse. But Jinho froze like she'd shocked him.
She stared at him. The elevator light flickered. Her jaw was set. Her bangs clung to her forehead, damp. Jinho's breath hitched when her eyes dropped to his mouth.
"You have," Jiwon whispered, "the most annoying smirk." Her grip tightened slightly. Thumb pressing into his wrist.
Jinho didn't pull away. His fingers twitched under her touch. The rice bag crinkled as his grip loosened. His free hand moved to the buttons then pressed the fourth floor.
The elevator lurched up. Jiwon gasped when Jinho twisted his wrist, palm up to catch hers. His skin was rough. Calluses scraped her knuckles. The light buzzed overhead, flickering shadows across his smirk.
"You missed our floor," she said. The panel blinked *4*. Jinho's thumb circled her pulse.
The doors opened to a dim hallway. Jiwon yanked him forward. Flip-flops slapped linoleum as she dragged him toward her apartment. Jinho stumbled after her,his dinner swinging wildly.
"Jiwon-ssi," he started, voice rough. But she cut him off with a sharp look. Her hoodie slipped, revealing her tank top strap. Jinho swallowed hard. His fingers twitched in her grip.
She barely got the door unlocked before shoving him inside. The Plastic Bag hit the floor as the door slammed shut.
Jiwon grabbed his shirt and yanked him down. Their mouths crashed together. Teeth clicked. Jinho staggered back against the door. His hands slid up her waist, gripping tight.
He cupped her ass through her shorts and lifted her effortlessly. She gasped. Legs wrapped around his hips. They stumbled over near the coffee table. The couch dipped under their weight as he lowered her onto it.
Her hoodie bunched around her elbows. Jinho's mouth trailed down her neck. She arched into him. His teeth grazed her collarbone. His work shirt scratched her bare stomach where her tank top had ridden up.
His lips found her tank top strap. Teeth caught the fabric. A sharp tug and it fell away, baring her breast. His mouth descended before she could gasp.
Jiwon yanked his head up by the hair. "You're that hungry, huh?" she teased, breath hot on his lips.
Jinho grinned. "You're just too delicious to pass up, Ms. Park." He kissed her again, swallowing her laugh. The couch creaked as he leaned over her.
She pulled his shirt up impatiently. He wrestled it off and tossed it aside. They shifted to sitting. Jiwon shrugged out of her hoodie and threw it away. She grabbed the back of his neck and shoved his face back to her breast. "Again," she demanded.
Jinho groaned against her skin. His tongue flicked her nipple in quick circles. She arched with a gasp. Her nails scraped down his bare back.
His stubble scratched the soft underside of her breast. Teeth grazed just enough to make her thighs clench. "You're—*fuck*—good at this," she moaned.
Jinho yanked his pants down and kicked them aside. Jiwon tore off her tank top and shorts in quick motions. A flip-flop skidded across the floor.
They paused. Her in just lace panties. Him in boxers. Chests rising fast. His gaze dragged down her body, lingering on her quick breaths, the sweat on her throat.
She hooked her ankle around his. He stumbled forward with a grunt. Caught himself on the armrest. Hand digging into her thigh. "Impatient," he muttered, voice cracking.
Jinho's teeth grazed her nipple. Tongue flicking in teasing circles. His calloused hand slid down her stomach. Fingers dipped under her soaked panties before she could catch her breath. "Christ, you're wet," he muttered against her skin.
Jiwon laughed a breathy, half-moan sound as she tangled her fingers in Jinho's hair and pulled just hard enough to make him groan. "Fix my pipe too, Jinho-ssi?" she gasped, thighs tightening around his wandering hand. "Heard you're good with... tools."
Jinho's head snapped up. His pupils were so wide they swallowed the brown of his eyes. He stared at her for a second, mouth wet, chest heaving before a slow grin spread across his face. "Depends," he murmured, dragging his thumb through her slick folds with agonizing slowness. "You want a quick fix?" His finger circled her clit once, twice—just enough to make her hips jerk. "Or a full remodel?"
Jiwon tugged him down by the hair. "Both," she whispered against his lips before biting his lower lip and kissing him again. Jinho groaned into it, hands scrambling at his waistband. His boxers slid down with one impatient shove, his cock springing free to slap against her stomach with a wet sound.
The heat of him made Jiwon gasp. She broke the kiss to look down. His cock was hard, thick, the tip glistening where it pressed against her soaked panties. She could feel the wetness seeping through the fabric, his precum smearing on her skin as he rocked his hips in a teasing grind.
"Christ," Jinho hissed, forehead dropping to her shoulder as he rubbed against her. "You're fucking drenched—" His voice cracked when Jiwon hooked a thumb under her panties and yanked them aside, exposing herself. The air felt cold on her bare skin, but Jinho's groan was hotter, his cock twitching against her thigh as he lined up.
Jiwon yanked his hips forward—hard. The scream tore from her throat before she could stop it. "Fuck—*fuck*—" Her nails dug into his hips as he bottomed out inside her in one rough thrust. She hadn't expected his size, hadn't prepared for how he stretched her, the burn sharp enough to make her toes curl.
"Jesus *Christ*," Jinho gasped above her, body trembling. Sweat dripped from his brow onto her collarbone. "You just *yanked* me in—"
Jiwon tried to laugh, tried to make a joke about plumbing, but Jinho rolled his hips just once and the sound she made wasn't laughter. It was a ragged moan, her thighs clamping around his hips like she could keep him there forever.
Her thighs tightened around him as her orgasm hit. She arched off the couch with a choked cry, vision whiting out as Jinho drove into her. Each thrust dragged against her oversensitive walls until she was sobbing into his neck.
Jinho groaned against her collarbone, teeth scraping skin as she pulsed around him. With a curse, he pulled out just in time, cock twitching violently in his hand as he came. The first thick stripe hit her cheekbone with a wet slap. Her tongue darted out instinctively to catch the second spurt that landed on her lips. The taste, salt, musk, *Jinho* flooded her mouth as he groaned above her.
"Look at you," he rasped, thumb smearing cum across her chin before pushing into her mouth. She sucked it clean with a moan, thighs still twitching from her own climax. His cock dripped the last few drops onto her nose with absurd precision. She licked it off, giggling at his reaction.
Jinho wiped her face clean with his hoodie, touch unexpectedly gentle after how rough he'd been. He kissed her soft, chaste before pulling back. "So," he said, voice rough but light, "are we still drinking that soju?"
Jiwon smirked. "Maybe we should eat first," she murmured, fingers tracing his throat. "Then soju... *then* fuck again."
Jinho laughed hoarse, strained as his cock twitched against her thigh. "Demanding," he teased.
The next morning, Jiwon woke to Jinho's arm draped possessively over her waist. Memories flooded back how he'd dragged her back to bed after their shower, growled *"mine"* against her throat, left sticky evidence of their third round drying on her skin. She twisted free, knee bumping his thigh as she scrambled off the mattress.
Jinho grunted, hand flopping onto the warm spot she'd left. "Five more minutes," he mumbled into the pillow.
Jiwon whacked him lightly with a pillow. "You gotta go, Oppa." The pillowcase smelled like sweat and sex. "We both need to get to work."
Jinho cracked one eye open, grinning. "Make me," he challenged, fingers tracing lazy patterns up her bare thigh.
Jiwon wrapped her hand around his half-hard cock and yanked—hard. His hips jerked off the mattress with a choked gasp. "We need to shower," she announced, dragging him toward the bathroom by sheer force of grip and anatomy.
Jinho hissed through his teeth as she hauled him off the bed, knees hitting the hardwood with a thud. The cold air slapped him awake better than coffee as she marched him naked toward the bathroom, his erection bobbing with each stumbling step. "Christ, woman—" he wheezed, clutching her wrist "you're gonna rip it *off*"
The shower spray hit Jiwon's back in tiny pinpricks. Jinho's soapy hands slid down her waist. "Missed a spot," he murmured against her ear, teeth grazing her earlobe. His fingers traced the bruises he'd left on her inner thighs last night.
"*Jinho*," she hissed as his other hand cupped her breast. "We don't have time—*ah*—" Her protest dissolved into a moan when his teeth scraped her shoulder blade.
"You started this," he reminded her, fingers working her open with agonizing patience. Steam fogged the bathroom into a hazy dreamscape where time didn't exist, just the slick slide of his fingers inside her, the way her toes curled against the wet porcelain.
By the time they stumbled out damp, sated, catastrophically late, Jiwon's blouse was half-untucked, skirt zipper refusing to cooperate. Jinho watched from the doorway, shamelessly shirtless, jeans straining over his hips. "Stop staring," she muttered, though her gaze lingered on the fresh bite marks she'd left on his collarbone.
Jinho grinned, grabbing her wrist as she tried to pass him. "You forgot something." He yanked her close and kissed her hard enough to make her knees wobble. When he pulled back, her lipstick was smeared beyond repair. "Parking lot," he reminded her, swatting her ass with a crisp *smack*. "Don't keep me waiting."
Eunchae frowned at her phone screen. "The lighting's weird here," she muttered, adjusting her grip on the small tripod. She stepped back, glancing around the quiet Yonsei University courtyard, perfect for filming without being recognized. Smoothing her oversized sweater, she started again. "Hi everyone! It's Eunchae, and today I'm—"
Wind blew hair into her mouth. She spat it out. "Today's different. No managers, just me pretending to be a normal student." She gestured at the campus. "Not actually a student, but—"
Thunder rumbled. The clear sky had darkened in minutes. "You've gotta be kidding me," she groaned as raindrops hit her forehead.
She shoved her equipment into her backpack, but the rain came harder. Sprinting to a nearby oak tree, she skidded on wet grass and ducked under its branches. Soaked, she wiped her face. "Great. Just great."
Then she saw him.
Lee Jin a.k.a Luc, the university's star student, was leaning against the tree trunk like he'd been napping. His headphones were crooked, one arm covering his eyes. He blinked up at her, groggy.
They stared at each other. He sat up, brushing a leaf off his shoulder. "...Filming something?"
"Not anymore," Eunchae said, gripping her backpack straps. "Unless you want to be in my vlog about my glamorous life."
Luc snorted, rainwater dripping from his bangs. "Glamorous? Looks more like a wet t-shirt contest." He gestured at her soaked sweater, then turned pink but shrugged. "Bad weather for filming."
Eunchae gaped nobody talked to her like that. Before she could reply, thunder cracked. The rain poured harder.
Luc rummaged in his bag and pulled out a black umbrella. It snapped open with a sharp sound. "Staying here or coming?" he asked, tilting it toward her.
"It's too small for two people," she said.
Luc moved closer without waiting. "It's this or pneumonia. Your choice, Wet T-Shirt Contestant."
Eunchae hesitated. "I could call a cab."
"Sure," Luc said, already stepping into the rain. "If you like waiting 20 minutes in this." Thunder boomed as if agreeing.
With a frustrated noise, Eunchae ducked under the umbrella elbowing him when she realized how close they stood. "There's a shortcut," Luc said, dodging her elbow. "Unless you want the scenic route."
The shortcut was a narrow alley between buildings, hidden by dripping bushes. Luc pushed past the branches, holding the umbrella awkwardly. Eunchae stumbled twice before grabbing his sleeve. "This isn't a shortcut," she snapped, shaking leaves from her hair. "It's a death trap."
Luc’s smirk was annoyingly visible in her side view. "Only if you're clumsy," he said, stepping around a puddle effortlessly like he'd done it many times before. He stopped at an old gate, working the latch with one hand. "Coming or not, Contestant?"
Eunchae's comeback vanished when she saw the house. It was tall and modern, with huge windows, sitting behind a perfect garden that somehow wasn't wrecked by the storm. The gate opened quietly, showing a big driveway that could fit expensive cars.
Rain dripped from Eunchae's eyelashes as she stared. "This is *yours*?" she said without thinking—then hated that she sounded impressed.
Luc shook the umbrella like shaking off water. "My parents'," he said, pushing the gate wider with his hip. "They're in Geneva for work." He acted like this was normal, like everyone had a spare mansion for rainy days.
She paused at the doorstep, suddenly noticing her wet shoes and clinging sweater. "I should—"
"Dry off?" Luc cut in, already walking ahead. "Yeah, obviously." He stopped halfway to glance back. "Unless you want to stay out here judging my house."
Eunchae frowned but followed. The front door opened to a fancy foyer—clean wood walls, a floating staircase, and a chandelier like lightning made into glass. Luc kicked off his shoes, leaving wet marks on the floor. "Bathroom's down there if you need to..." He waved at her soaked clothes.
She hugged her backpack. "I'm fine."
Her teeth were chattering. "I'm *fine*," she repeated, even as water dripped from her sweater onto Luc's clean floor.
Luc didn't answer. He walked away and came back with two thick towels, throwing them at her chest. "You're as fine as a drowned cat," he said, pushing her toward the hallway. "Bathroom's second door. Go."
Eunchae almost tripped, grabbing the towels. "Excuse *you*—" she started, but Luc was already heading to the kitchen.
"And leave your clothes outside the door," he added over his shoulder.
Eunchae froze. "*What*?"
Luc turned back, looking both amused and annoyed. "Your clothes," he said slowly. "Unless you want hypothermia."
She held the towels tighter, suddenly aware how see-through her wet sweater was. "I'm not undressing in a stranger's house!"
Luc blinked, then laughed hard, almost bending over. "Oh my god," he gasped, wiping his eyes. "You thought—no. *No*. I have a dryer." He pointed to a door near the kitchen. "Unless you *like* looking like a drowned cat?"
Eunchae's face burned. She opened her mouth, closed it, then stomped into the bathroom and slammed the door. Through it, she heard Luc mutter "*drama queen*."
Eunchae sank into the hot bath until the water touched her chin. Her knees stuck out like little islands. The bathroom was fancy—marble floors, soft lights. Way too nice for someone who'd just been caught trespassing under some rich guy's tree in the rain. She blew bubbles out her nose. *How did I end up naked in this stranger's tub?*
Her wet clothes were probably spinning in Luc's expensive dryer. She'd hesitated before tossing them into the hallway, but being practical won. Now she floated in lavender-scented bubbles, listening to rain hit the skylight.
A knock made her jump. Water sloshed over the edge. "Left clothes outside," Luc said through the door. "They might be big on you."
Eunchae glared at the door. "I'm not wearing your clothes!" The words sounded childish as soon as she said them.
A pause. Then Luc's amused voice: "You'd rather walk around in a towel?"
She sank deeper, blowing bubbles angrily. *This is why idols have managers.* Managers who carried spare clothes and knew how to avoid ending up in strangers' mansions. She'd wanted to film this vlog alone no handlers, no scripts but now she was trapped in some guy's tub, defenseless against his teasing.
Eunchae stepped out wrapped in Luc's huge clothes. The shirt slipped off one shoulder. The shorts pooled around her thighs, barely staying up. She padded barefoot across the hardwood floor, lavender scent still in her hair.
Luc looked up from arranging cups. His eyes flicked over her for half a second before he looked neutral again. "Tea or coffee?" Steam rose from both pots earthy tea smell mixing with strong coffee.
Eunchae eyed them suspiciously. "You're giving me caffeine after calling me a drowned cat?" She flopped onto the couch, pulling her legs up. The shorts rode up, showing thigh. She yanked them down with a scowl.
Luc smirked as he poured coffee. "Actually, caffeine doesn't dehydrate you." He slid the mug toward her. "Thought you'd want something bitter to match your mood."
She wrapped her hands around the hot mug. "You're impossible."
Eunchae took a slow sip, then glared. "You're the type who corrects teachers in class, aren't you?"
Luc leaned against the counter, swirling his coffee. "Only when they're wrong." He grinned at her eye roll. "Which happens about thirty percent of the time in undergrad classes."
"Ugh." Eunchae rubbed her face. "Of course you'd know the exact number." She reached for her bag then froze. "Shit. My manager." She hadn't texted since before the rain. Her Manager would be—.
Her phone stayed dead no matter how many times she pressed the button. She shook it uselessly. "You've got to be kidding." More button presses did nothing.
Luc watched, amused. "Let me guess," he said, sipping coffee. "Someone's about to send out a search teams for Korea's lost idol?"
Eunchae sank into the couch, clutching her mug like it could save her. "This day," she muttered into the steam, "is literally out to get me." The hot coffee burned her tongue fitting punishment for being so stupid. No backup phone. No warning text. Just her, a dead phone, and the certain knowledge that Her Manager was probably describing her to the police right now.
Luc snorted from his chair, scrolling calmly. "Dramatic."
Eunchae glared at him and grabbed the remote off the coffee table. She pressed the power button harder than she needed to. The big TV on the wall turned on, lighting up the dark room with a news channel. A weather reporter pointed at a radar map covered in red swirls—more storms coming. Great.
She mashed the channel button. A soap opera flashed by—some woman slapping a man. Then a cooking show sizzling meat that made her stomach growl. Then she stopped. Her group's music video was playing on a countdown show. The dancing looked perfect, unlike her right now barefoot, hair wet, wearing borrowed clothes.
Luc looked at her, then at the screen. "...That's you," he said. Not a question.
Eunchae squeezed her mug tighter. On screen, her hologram spun in sync with the other girls. The difference was almost funny there, she was all glitter and sharp moves. Here, she was drowning in a boy's oversized shirt, dignity ruined. "Surprise," she muttered into her coffee.
Luc leaned forward, elbows on his knees, staring at the screen like he was trying to solve it. "You're smaller in person," he said finally.
Eunchae stiffened. "And you're taller than in those university posters," she snapped back. It sounded petty. She didn’t know why she cared—except Luc had this way of looking *through* her, like he could see past the idol act to the girl freaking out over a dead phone.
Luc reached for the remote. His fingers brushed her wrist. She jerked away, holding the remote to her chest. "Let's watch the news," he said, voice flat, hand still out.
Eunchae smirked, sinking deeper into the couch. "What if I don't want to give it?" she teased, dragging out the words.
Luc didn’t blink. "Then I’ll kiss you."
The words hit like a bullet. Eunchae’s grip slipped. Her breath caught. Heat rushed up her neck. Luc didn’t react, no smirk, no joke, just calm. Like this was obvious.
She should’ve laughed. Should’ve rolled her eyes. But her pulse was pounding, and the silence stretched too long.
Luc leaned closer. She could smell coffee on his breath. "Remote," he repeated, holding out his hand.
Eunchae clutched it tighter. "You wouldn’t."
He moved fast not toward her lips, but toward the remote. His other hand braced against the couch by her hip, trapping her. Eunchae yelped, twisting away, but he was already there, nose almost touching hers. Close enough to see the freckles on his cheeks. His breath tickled her skin. "Try me," he murmured.
The remote fell. Luc didn’t kiss her.
He straightened, picking it up with a quiet *click*. The TV switched to a news anchor talking about storm delays. Eunchae sat frozen, face burning, lips parted between anger and wanting.
Luc settled beside her, elbows on his knees, eyes on the screen. "Told you," he said, like nothing happened.
Eunchae’s heart raced. She dug her nails into the couch. "That was cheating."
Luc glanced at her. "You dropped it."
She huffed. "You're insufferable."
The corner of his mouth twitched. "And yet you're still here."
The news kept talking. The storm rattled the windows. Eunchae peeked at Luc his sharp jaw, his damp hair curling at his neck. She should've been planning her escape. Calling for a ride. Anything but sitting there in his clothes, skin still buzzing from the almost-kiss that wasn’t.
She nudged his knee with her bare foot. "Change it back."
Luc didn’t look up. "No."
Eunchae kicked harder. He caught her ankle, fingers warm against her skin. "Problem?" he asked, holding her there.
She yanked free, but not before feeling the rough calluses on his palm. Strange, a scholar’s hands shouldn’t feel like that. She tucked her legs under her, suddenly aware of every breath between them.
On TV, the news anchor switched to celebrity gossip. Eunchae tensed, but Luc was already flipping channels. A rainforest documentary filled the room with waterfall sounds, drowning out the storm outside.
She slumped against the cushions. "You’re lucky I don’t sue you for emotional distress."
Luc finally looked at her, gaze lingering on her mouth a beat too long. "You’d have to prove damages."
She threw a pillow at his face. He caught it one-handed and smirked. Eunchae’s stomach twisted.
Outside, rain kept falling.
Her stomach growled loudly a deep, embarrassing sound that overpowered the documentary’s narration about jungle predators. She clapped a hand over it.
"Subtle," Luc said, gathering their empty mugs. He moved with the efficiency of someone who’d worked too many café shifts. "Hungry?"
"I’m fine," she lied, right as another gurgle betrayed her.
Luc didn’t hide his smirk this time. He nodded toward the kitchen a sleek, professional space that didn’t match a student’s lifestyle. "Snack or meal? Warning: my cooking’s barely edible."
"You’re offering to cook for me?"
"For us. I’m hungry too." He said it casually, like hosting a soaked idol was normal.
Eunchae followed him barefoot. The marble floor felt cool under her toes. "You don’t have to—"
"You’re a guest." He rummaged through the fridge, shoulders tense under his damp shirt. "I don’t get many."
The kitchen smelled of lemon cleaner and old garlic. Eunchae leaned against the island. "No fans camping out for your genius?" she teased.
"Nope."
She rolled her eyes. "I want nuggets and soju."
Luc didn’t hesitate. He yanked open the freezer, bypassing neatly labeled meals for a crumpled bag of nuggets hidden behind fancy ice cubes.
Eunchae snorted. "Your parents have a chef, and *that’s* what are you serving?"
"*You* asked for it." He tossed the bag on the counter. The frozen nuggets rattled inside.
She hopped onto a barstool. "Fair enough."
Luc loaded the air fryer with precision, twelve nuggets in a perfect grid. The machine hummed to life.
Silence settled, heavy and awkward. Eunchae noticed water droplets still clinging to Luc’s hairline, his thumb tapping the counter. Up close, he looked less like a campus poster boy and more like someone who hid emergency nuggets in a Sub-Zero freezer.
Her gaze caught on his lower lip slightly chapped. Dirty thoughts flooded her mind: what those lips might feel like on her skin. Heat crept up her neck. *Since when did nerdy academics become this distracting?*
Luc caught her staring. "Problem?"
"Just wondering how someone with a Nobel Prize-worthy freezer eats like a dorm rat."
He nudged the air fryer’s timer. "Contradictions keep life interesting."
The machine’s whirring drowned out the rain. Luc rummaged through the fridge again, emerging with a green soju bottle. "Emergency stash," he said, shaking it. Ice cubes clinked inside.
"You keep alcohol in your parents’ fridge?"
"Technically it’s *their* alcohol." He poured two shots with steady hands. "But they’re in Geneva." He slid one glass toward her.
Luc slid the soju glass toward Eunchae with his pinky a weirdly careful move from someone who'd just joked about kissing her over the remote. The glass stopped right in front of her folded arms. "Emergency protocol," he said flatly. "Nuggets take twelve minutes. That's eleven too long for you right now."
Eunchae sniffed the drink. "Did you poison this?"
"Only with bad choices," Luc said, downing his shot in one go. His throat moved when he swallowed, and Eunchae caught herself staring at the damp shine left behind. He wiped it with his hand when he noticed. "Your turn."
She hesitated, then drank hers just as fast the burn reminded her of cheap soju from convenience stores after late-night schedules. "Tastes like bad life choices," she coughed, slamming the glass down.
A second bottle appeared on the counter. Eunchae blinked when had he opened that? but her hands moved on autopilot to twist the cap, the motion familiar from countless post-concert drinks.
"Didn't think you could hold your liquor," Luc said, watching her pour with the precision of someone who knew exactly how much tipsiness looked good on camera.
Eunchae snorted and purposely overfilled his glass. "You'd be shocked what we do off-screen." Her words came out looser than she meant
she blamed the alcohol, not how Luc's eyes dropped to her mouth when she licked a drop off her thumb.
The air fryer beeped loudly. Luc reached for it, steam billowing out with the smell of cheap chicken nuggets odd in the fancy kitchen.
Eunchae grabbed a nugget straight from the basket, ignoring Luc's "Hot!" warning. The second it touched her tongue, pain flared. "Shit!" She dropped it, fanning her mouth as tears welled up.
Luc moved faster than she'd ever seen the fridge open, water grabbed, cap off before she even registered her mistake. "Swirl, don't swallow," he ordered, pressing the cold bottle into her hands. Their fingers brushed briefly.
She obeyed, glaring at him like it was his fault. When she spat in the sink, her voice was rough: "You could've said they were burning-hot."
Luc crossed his arms. "I did say 'hot.' You just don't listen." But his eyes flicked to her mouth, checking for damage with the same focus he used to correct professors except now it felt oddly personal.
She drank properly this time, the coolness soothing her throat. "These nuggets suck," she muttered.
Luc picked one up, blew on it, and took a bite. "You asked for them. And yeah, they're terrible." Steam rose from the broken crust.
Eunchae watched his throat move as he swallowed unharmed. “Asshole”. She grabbed a cooled nugget and bit into it aggressively. "Convenient Stores have better food."
Luc reached past her for the soju, his sleeve brushing her bare knee. "Since when are you a CVS food critic?"
Eunchae snatched the bottle first, pouring herself more with a smirk. "Fourteen-hour practices make you appreciate anything edible nearby."
Luc's nugget slipped from his fingers and hit the counter. They both stared at it slightly deformed and greasy before Eunchae burst out laughing. Luc grinned reluctantly and pushed the nugget toward her with his pinky. "Eat it. For science."
"Nope, you eat it," she said, pushing it back with her knuckle. Her idol smile was there, but her eyes held a sharper challenge.
Luc sighed and bent to pick it up just as Eunchae crouched down too. Their foreheads bonked together softly.
They froze. Close enough for Luc to see raindrops caught in her eyelashes. Then momentum took over.
Her lips brushed his.
Eunchae stayed there, barely touching him, tasting cheap soju on his breath. Her brain screamed to pull away, but she leaned in slightly instead. The forgotten nugget greased up Luc's sock.
Suddenly she grabbed his wrist hard and yanked his hand to her face. His palm warmed her cheek, rough against her skin. Before either could think, she kissed him desperately.
Luc made a surprised noise but his fingers curled into her hair. The kiss was messy, their noses bumping. She could feel his pulse racing under her thumb.
She pulled back just enough to see his wide eyes. "First time kissing a girl?" she teased, swiping soju off his lip slowly.
Luc's grip on her waist tightened suddenly. "Try again," he growled, yanking her against his chest. The nugget crunched under his knee as he stood, hauling her over his shoulder like a sack of rice.
"Put me down!" she laughed, hitting his back uselessly as he carried her to the living room. He dumped her onto the couch, her shorts riding up dangerously.
Luc leaned over her, one hand on the armrest, the other tangled in her, his shirt. Eunchae smirked up at him. "Kidnapping too? Should I be flattered or calling the cops?"
Luc's smirk disappeared the second Eunchae kissed him. Her tongue was hot and insistent, tasting like cheap soju and bad nuggets. He gripped the couch, fingers digging into the leather as she climbed into his lap with the same precision she used on stage.
She settled against him, knees pressing into his thighs. When she rocked forward, Luc groaned into her mouth.
"Decided for you," Eunchae murmured, biting his stubble before kissing him again. Her fingers tangled in his hair, tugging just enough to tilt his head back.
Luc slid his hands under her shirt, his shirt palming the bare skin of her waist. She shivered when his thumbs traced her hipbones.
"Cheater," she said, breathless, but arched into his touch anyway.
The couch creaked as Luc flipped them, pinning Eunchae beneath him. Her dark hair fanned out against the cream leather. He stared at the flush spreading down her neck, at how fast her chest rose and fell.
She guided his hand up her torso, fingers weaving with his over the thin fabric. "Here," she whispered before kissing him again.
When his palm brushed against her chest, she gasped. Not from pressure but because his fingers hesitated.
Eunchae moaned into his mouth when his thumb accidentally grazed her nipple. Luc froze, then gripped tighter, kneading experimentally. The sound she made when she bit his lip was sweeter than applause.
The shirt, his shirt rode up between them as she squirmed. Luc kissed down her chin, fumbling with the buttons she'd fastened earlier. Each pop was loud in the quiet room.
"Still think I'm small?" Eunchae taunted between breaths, arching into his palm. Her nails scraped his stomach where his own shirt had bunched up.
Luc's fingers paused. Her whisper in his ear sent electricity down his spine.
"Take me," she said, teeth grazing his earlobe.
He smirked against her collarbone. "Perfectly sized for my hand."
Eunchae bit his shoulder hard enough to bruise. "Less talking," she growled, wrestling with his belt.
The buckle clicked open. Luc exhaled sharply when her fingers slipped under his waistband.
The couch groaned as he pinned her deeper into the cushions, trapping her wrists above her head.
"Impatient," he muttered, kissing her throat.
She arched with a gasp when his teeth scraped her skin.
Luc didn’t ask, just hooked an arm under her knees and lifted her off the couch. She laughed against his neck as he stumbled toward the hallway.
"You're stronger than you look," she teased, but her grip on his shirt betrayed her urgency.
The bedroom door slammed against the wall. Moonlight streaked across the bed as he carried her inside.
Eunchae was already unbuttoning his shirt when he set her down. "Got condoms?" she asked between kisses.
Luc froze. Slowly, he shook his head.
She dropped to her knees, fingers working his waistband. The floor was hard under her bare skin, but she didn’t care not with how obviously hard he was.
"Don't worry," she said, popping the button free. "Just don't finish inside me."
The zipper's rasp broke the silence. Luc's hands hovered near her shoulders unsure whether to push or pull. Eunchae didn't wait. She yanked his jeans down just enough, sucking in a breath when his cock sprang free. "God," she muttered, tracing the vein along its length, "do you have any flaw besides your personality?"
Before he could reply, she licked the leaking tip. His hips jerked. A groan tore from his throat. She smirked, taking him deeper until her lips stretched tight. The sounds were obscene wet slurps, the creak of the bedframe, his ragged breathing above her.
When she hummed around him, his thighs trembled. She pulled off with a pop, saliva still connecting her lips to him. His grip tightened painfully in her hair.
Luc dragged her up by her hair just as his hips started thrusting. Her lips were swollen, chin wet, eyes dark with hunger. "What?" she demanded. He didn't answer. He shoved her onto the bed, yanking her shorts down before she could help.
His first kiss landed above her knees, soft, almost teasing. The next was lower, teeth grazing her inner thigh. She gasped. He smirked, breathing hot over her damp underwear before hooking his thumbs under the waistband. "Still talking?" he murmured, dragging the fabric down agonizingly slow.
She arched when his mouth found bare skin, not where she expected, but along the crease of her hip. His tongue traced delicate veins there. When he bit down, she cried out. The sting melted into pleasure as he soothed it with his lips.
"Fuck Luc!" Her heel dug into his back, urging him lower. Instead, he nuzzled the neatly trimmed hair above her clit, inhaling deeply. The audacity made her thighs shake. When his tongue finally dragged through her folds, her head slammed back into the pillows. Her teeth bit into her lip to stifle a scream.
Her thighs clamped around his head as the orgasm hit silent, brutal, her spine bowing off the mattress. He didn't stop, licking her through the aftershocks until she shoved him away, oversensitive and shaking. "Holy shit, Luc," she gasped.
He wiped his mouth, crawling up her body. His cock dragged against her thigh, leaving a wet trail. "Lady's cums first," he murmured, lining himself up at her entrance.
She yanked him into another rough kiss. "Do me. Now."
He pushed in with one smooth thrust. The stretch burned. She hissed, nails raking down his back. He paused, buried deep, letting her adjust. She rolled her hips impatiently. He chuckled darkly before pulling almost all the way out and slamming back in.
There was no gentleness just hard, relentless thrusts. She matched him, her heels digging into his thighs. Skin slapped against skin. Their breathing was ragged. When he hit just the right angle, stars exploded behind her eyes.
Luc braced himself over her, gripping her hip hard enough to bruise. Sweat dripped from his temple onto her collarbone. She arched into him, breasts dragging against his chest.
"Look at you," he growled, thumb circling her clit. "Taking me so well." The praise shouldn't have thrilled her, but it did. Her walls clenched around him.
She shoved his hand aside, rubbing her clit frantically. His rhythm faltered when she tightened around him. "Fuck Eunchae!"
She smirked. "Close?" She rolled her hips, taking him deeper. His breath hitched.
His hand fisted in her hair, exposing her throat as he fucked her harder, losing control. "You first," he ground out. His thumb brushed hers on her clit. The extra pressure sent her over the edge.
Eunchae cried out, her body arching off the bed as pleasure rolled through her. Luc followed seconds later, groaning against her shoulder as he came inside her, hips jerking wildly.
They lay tangled together afterward, breathing hard. Sweat cooled on their skin. Eunchae traced scratches on Luc's back while he nuzzled lazily at her throat.
Then she punched his shoulder not hard, but enough to make him hiss. "You came inside me, asshole," she growled, nails digging into his arm.
Luc caught her wrist. His thumb brushed over her bones. "You told me not to," he pointed out calmly.
Eunchae opened her mouth to snap back, but stopped. Instead, she grabbed him hard around the neck, teeth scraping his collarbone. "You'll take responsibility," she muttered against his skin.
Luc chuckled, hands settling on her waist. "Gladly," he murmured before kissing her soft and slow, tasting of sweat and soju.
Eunchae melted into it briefly, then pulled back with a scoff. "Don't think this gets you off the hook," she warned, even as her fingers tangled in his hair.
Luc smirked. "Wouldn't dream of it." His hand slid down her thigh. "Surprised you're not running yet."
Eunchae stiffened slightly before relaxing. "Who says I'm not?"
Luc breathed against her neck. "Your legs are still wrapped around me."
She kicked him lightly more of a nudge but didn't argue. Outside, the rain slowed to a gentle patter.
After a long silence, Luc's fingers trailed down her spine. "What now?" he asked quietly.
Eunchae met his gaze. "You tell me," she challenged no bite left in her voice.
Luc studied her face the shadows on her cheeks, the lingering blush. He kissed her again briefly. "Stay," he said against her lips.
Eunchae raised an eyebrow. "Just like that?"
Luc shrugged. "Unless you've got somewhere better to be."
She looked out the window at the fading darkness. When she turned back, something vulnerable flashed in her eyes. "Fine," she whispered. "But only because it's still raining."
Luc smiled, thumb stroking her cheekbone. "Whatever you say, princess."
Eunchae rolled her eyes but stayed pressed against him as the rain kept falling outside steady and endless.
Purple Kiss' Mori Koyuki x Rocket Punch/ELZ UP's Kim Yeonhee x Male Reader Smut
12,204 words
Categories | fwb!Yuki, pool sex, clubbing, threesome, anal, oral
Sorry it took so long! Here's a fic of two cute underrated idols <3 I miss Rocket Punch and Purple Kiss :(
Routines are a religion.
You like to start your mornings slow. You’re already running on coffee and misplaced adrenaline for projects; the only thing that you want to do is relax. Something that goes like a good night’s sleep, a gentle wakeup call, and a filling breakfast to start your day. That’s what your ideal morning is.
Well, it was—you much prefer Yuki under the covers and with her mouth all over your cock.
The sleep’s barely out of your eyes when the sensations take ahold of you. Her pretty little mouth, hot and wet, works you out like no other. Her tongue is magical, but what more are those eyes, siren-dark as she takes you in.
“Good morning, handsome,” she says. The covers drape Yuki’s naked frame. The outside lamplight pours on her silhouette and makes her look like a succubus. “Had a good sleep?”
What a way to wake up. Those gorgeous lips pepper kisses all over your cock. Her hand closes around the base to gently jerk you off while she sucks all-too-cleverly at the tip. Yuki knows you inside and out.
“I was,” you reply. Your hand sifts through her dark hair. “Until you came along and couldn’t wait to get me in your mouth.”
Yuki’s eyes shine with mischief. “Don’t tell me you’re complaining.”
“I’m not,” you say, and close your eyes as she takes you in her throat again.
Yuki is insane. Everything about her, from those dangerous eyes to the naked, plentiful tits pressing to your thighs, is a provocation. You remember staring at her in class, taking note of that glossy black hair and waist, then wondering—
How the hell do you do it?
She hid her confusion that one day with a charming smile. Nobody mustered the courage to talk to her; you were one of the few brave soldiers. Do what exactly?
I—I just don’t get it, you said. How the hell does a girl like you not have a boy on your arm?
Yuki stepped closer, her voice dropping low. I dunno. How does a boy like you not have a girl like me on your cock?
After she’d drained the life out of you in the school bathroom, you figured out why: Yuki is fucking wild. Nobody could handle her. Many have tried, you found out—she told you about the multiple women and men she left broken. You’re the only one who stayed around.
Pity them. Now, they don’t get the opportunity to have her taking care of their morning wood. They don’t feel the expert suction of her mouth or her hard nipples against their flesh. They don’t see her eyes as entrancing as Medusa’s as you empty your load in her.
This girl just keeps you shaking. She doesn’t stop sucking until each heavy spurt ends up in her wet mouth. She provokes more hot semen with sharp licks, welcoming you into her throat again and again until you collapse on the pillows.
And it’s like nothing to Yuki. She opens her mouth, shows you the pool of cum that settles there, and swallows. “Mmm, better than any milk.”
There’s that smile again, wicked with the knowledge that you’re hers and no one else’s.
“Jesus, Yuki…” Your heart thumps fast against your naked chest. “Good morning to you, too.”
-
You’re all smiles as you walk together arm in arm to class. You moved in with Yuki a long time ago; your old crummy dorm was no use if you spent all the hours of your life in her bed anyway. It’s a chic, tall house in a gated subdivision where everyone knows everyone. You insisted on paying half, but Yuki declined. “I have another house in Tokyo anyway,” she said nonchalantly, as if an inherited mansion was something everybody had.
This was why she couldn’t wrap her head around why you didn’t want a twenty-dollar frappe. She’s nursing hers right now, manicured fingers gleaming against the wet plastic. “You sure you don’t want some?”
You shake your head.
“Aw, come on. You’ve had my tongue in your mouth, haven’t you? What’s keeping you off a shared straw?”
You choke. “I-it’s a frappe, Yuki. I prefer real breakfast.”
“Whatever, you’re boring,” says Yuki with a roll of her gorgeous eyes. It’s the kind of attitude a prefect would call her out for. Many monitor this hallway, but none of them dare correct her.
“If I’m so boring, I wouldn’t be fucking you every night.”
“Keep it up and you’ll lose that privilege,” warns Yuki. One look at her fit body in that blue tank top and low-rise jeans—yeah, you’re not going anywhere.
Your business classroom is right up the hall. From its door, a pretty head of auburn hair looks both ways until she spots you. Yeonhee. A girl with too little time in her hands, a bookbag weighing her down, and too cute for her own good. Just the sound of her stomping as she marches up to you is adorable.
Yuki waves at her. They’re best friends who met in senior high school, inseparable ever since. And, since you’re friends with benefits with Yuki, that makes Yeonhee your friend, too. Friend-in-law? Friend by acquaintance? You’ve no idea, but you’re definitely not bringing her into whatever twisted dynamic you have with Yuki. Yeonhee’s too innocent for that.
“Hi, babe.”
(Oh, another thing—you’re sure if you didn’t come into the picture, she and Yeonhee would definitely have been girlfriends. The affection is both way too intimate and casual at the same time.)
Yeonhee pouts at her. “Don’t babe me. You’re late!”
“Only by like fifteen minutes,” says Yuki. She shows her the sugary frappe. “Besides, I had to pick up breakfast. Want some?”
“Ew, no. I’m not sharing anything edible with you after that time.”
You blush. You know exactly what she’s talking about. One time, she stayed over at Yuki’s to study. Her roommate was gone and she was too afraid to review alone. She had just gone into the kitchen for some water when she saw her best friend blowing you. Your dinners were still untouched.
Yuki isn’t fazed by it. “Don’t be a prude. When’s the last time you had a good dicking down?”
Yeonhee glows bright red. She draws herself up the best she can in her sandals, clutching her notepad tighter. “For your information, I am not interested in partaking in debauchery. Being promiscuous would greatly damage my reputation in orgs.”
Yuki told you about this before. It’s something you’ve noticed, too. While her batchmates party and go out, Yeonhee stays in the library to read. The girl’s a damn saint.
And it’s so clear that it’s something she’d like to maintain down to nitpicking things. The clogged schedule taped to her notebook, the dialogue straight out of a committee letter, the ribbons in her hair…
“Has anyone told you you’re a little tense?” you ask as politely as you can.
Yeonhee pauses, deep in thought. She recalls all the moments she chose her grades before herself, a deadline over breakfast. She bites her lip. “O-only a few times.”
“A million times, actually,” Yuki corrects her. “Don’t you want to do something for yourself? Not for the professors or panelists? It won’t hurt you, ya know.”
Oh, but it would. Yeonhee’s already shivering at the idea of being out of a classroom. You’ve been standing here discussing the tension she’s carried all her life. Meanwhile, the professor’s probably gone over a million slides already.
But she finds herself nodding in agreement. There’s no use denying it. She missed out on so many parties and fun. She abstained from the distractions of dating so much that the idea of letting a guy talk to her is scary.
Well, except you. She certainly doesn’t mind you at all. Might even… Yeonhee shakes her head. Nope, don’t even think about it. You belong to Yuki—sure, she insists that there’s no label on your odd relationship, but she sees how Yuki burns up when another girl approaches you.
The look on her face is hard to read. Gently place a hand on her shoulder. “C’mon, Yeonhee. What’s something you’ve always wanted to do?”
Yeonhee looks around, as if afraid anyone would actually catch her being vulnerable. Her fingers nervously smooth the ends of her ponytail. You roll your eyes; Yuki shoots you a dangerous glare and you're obligated to switch on a sympathetic look again.
“Skip class…” she finally mumbles.
You and Yuki share a confused look. Yuki raises her brows. “Skip class?” she asks, just to be sure she heard that correctly.
“I—I haven’t skipped classes the whole year! I haven’t done it ever, actually.”
It sounds ridiculous. You’re definitely not a regular tardy student. Even Yuki has little record of truancy on her file. But of course, Lee Yeonhee takes the dedication to new heights. She’s never missed a class ever. You remember the pity you felt seeing her get into stats with a face mask and a readied roll of tissue.
Yuki seems to be recalling all of these memories, too. She gives her best friend a one-over—takes note of the tiniest wrinkle between her brows, the dark undereyes, and hands muddled with inked formulas. They’re only ever visible once you get closer to Yeonhee. That’s the way you can see past her friendly student leader persona and find the work she put in for it.
Yuki smiles. “Well, what are you waiting for, baby girl? Come on.”
-
Your professor’s probably wondering where the hell you all are, especially Yeonhee, her star student who she told to call you guys in. Lord knows she can’t rely on you and Yuki for anything. You imagine how she’d react when she finds out you’ve corrupted her, too.
Wince. Okay, corrupted is a strong word. An explicit implication at that. But as much as you try to erase the image from your mind, it’s clear. Yuki drives you crazy, but you certainly wouldn’t mind Yeonhee. She’s got a body under those big sweaters. Talk about those thighs, Jesus.
You wonder if Yuki’d be okay with that. Maybe she would? You aren’t dating anyway (everyone just groans when you say it but it’s true). And right now, she’s letting Yeonhee huddle up to you while she contents herself with running her fingers through your hair. When Yuki does that, all the casual petting and touching, it feels like second nature; just something she does with no thought.
“Okay, so we have like three months before we get flimsy diplomas and I can say I officially wasted my dad’s money,” Yuki announces it as if it were a statement to the nation. “Our solemn duty, as Yeonhee’s best friends, is to make sure she doesn’t graduate without a little chaos under her belt.”
“Best friends is pushing it,” you mutter, and she squeezes you a little harder.
Her fingers have migrated to your cheek while she writes notes down on a neat piece of paper. Yeonhee’s eyes narrow at the familiar blue lining.
“Where’d you get that?” she asks suspiciously, and Yuki shrugs.
“The dean’s office.”
“What?” Yeonhee shouts, or at least, the nearest she can do to a scold. She’s incapable of raising her voice. “He got that from Dubai! That’s stealing… i-it isn’t yours!”
Duh. Yuki sighs. She allows you to roll your eyes this time. You imagine your best friend’s parents didn’t have a hard time raising her in her little gowns, with her perfect manners and curfew. The perfect little girl. Only Yeonhee can make it sound like a bad thing.
“It’s a notepad,” Yuki deadpans. “And this is exactly what I’m talking about. You don’t have to follow every little rule. Do you always want to be a good girl who does as she’s told?”
Yeonhee struggles to find an answer. The ethical dilemma is doing her head in, or maybe it’s the control Yuki so confidently wields around everyone. Even you, but that’s already a given. She holds, touches, and drags you with her everywhere like she’s the boss. It’s her love language, Yeonhee guesses.
Yuki tends to do that with her, too. But she finds that she doesn’t mind it. Probably even likes it.
The restaurant suddenly seems to feel claustrophobic. It’s mere minutes away from the university. The thought of anyone finding you here is spiking Yeonhee’s nerves. “I’m sorry, what are we doing here again?”
“We’re making a bucket list,” you inform her helpfully. “We’re going to check off everything you wanted to do but never got to. You’ve already skipped class, so that’s one off.”
Yuki tosses her hair to one side as she marks skip class. There’s a mischievous grin on her face when she lifts her head up again.
“We’re going to fill this list up. I propose sneaking into that fine ass villa pool. Y’know, the one near mine.”
Yeonhee blinks, but her eyes are sparkling this time. It’s the most excitement you’ve seen in them since… well, since forever. “It’s monitored. And chlorinated.”
“Which is why it’s perfect.” Yuki scribbles it down and hands her friend the ballpen. “Your turn, Yeon.”
Yeonhee chews her bottom lip to prevent herself from protesting. Meanwhile, you’re salivating. You’ve seen Yuki naked before and nothing compares to that, but a gorgeous bikini on her wasn’t bad either.
There’s a long pause. Yeonhee’s cheeks turn pink. “I’ve always wanted to get a tattoo…”
Your mouth drops. “I didn’t peg you for a badass tattooed girl.”
“Juri suggested we get one together in first year,” admits Yeonhee shyly. She tucks a strand of her hair back. “I was too scared so I said no.”
Yuki mirrors your surprise with an evil smile. “Make it a tramp stamp!”
“No!”
Fifteen or so minutes later, the three of you have filled your bucket list. The words overflow from the page. It reads:
YEONHEE’S AMAZING BUCKET LIST
* Make this the ONLY thing you cram until the end of the year
* Crash the pool
* Skip a class we all hate and go get bubble tea in the middle of the day.
* Tell Professor Kingston his tie is ugly. (Yuki’s, immediately vetoed by you and Yeonhee in unison. The professor is nuts and you’d rather not be dead before graduation.)
* Miss a terror prof’s deadline. (Yeonhee’s, which makes Yuki clutch her heart in dramatic pride.)
* Get a tattoo.
* Kiss someone.
* Get a good dicking down!!!!!! (Yuki’s again, waggling her eyebrows.)
At that last one, Yeonhee’s entire face goes pink. “That’s obscene!”
“That’s the point,” says Yuki nonchalantly. “Face it, sweetheart. Everyone needs a little stress relief.”
Her gaze flicks to you. She’d know a lot about that, wouldn’t she? You hate how you look at each other at the same time. Her hand creeps up your thigh and you feel that familiar, hot knot in your gut, but you keep your focus on Yeonhee.
“You don’t have to do it first,” you offer. “It has to be someone you trust.”
Yeonhee shrugs shyly. Her big brilliant eyes are smiling. You wonder why she’s always shy around you, as if you haven’t been best friends forever. You got each other through every midterm yet she curls up into a ball each time you squeeze her cheek.
It’s something you’ll have to figure out sooner or later. Yuki’s given you a forkful of cheese pizza.
“Also has to be someone with a big dick,” Yuki says and her friend blushes furiously again. She smiles sweetly at you. “Right, hon?”
“R-Right.”
You try not to choke on the mozzarella. Yuki rests her chin on your shoulder, gently biting your earlobe. She doesn’t care that Yeonhee’s right in front of you or that this is very much a public place. You’re hers—in her head, she’s got every right to stake that claim.
“So,” Yeonhee says just in time to prevent Yuki from jumping you. “Pool first?”
You nod.
“Tomorrow night. Wear your sexiest swimsuit.” Yuki winks. “Or don’t.”
-
Tomorrow can’t come any faster. You’ve been looking forward to it all day. By the end of your last period, you’re practically sprinting to your agreed meet-up point. It’s in the university parking lot, where Yuki’s gorgeous car awaits to take you on your adventure.
Yuki checks her watch with a tsk. Four minutes past the deadline. “Where could that girl be?”
To be fair, it sounds a lot like Yeonhee to chicken out. She’s the epitome of obedience. She probably thought about the laws there were about private property and took the easy way out.
“She’s scared to death.”
“Well, I can’t blame her,” says Yuki. “I have to admit I started the list off a little strong.”
“You did?” you gasp sarcastically. She rolls her eyes. “No, Yuki, she definitely didn’t get scared because you suggested trespassing.”
Before you could let another teasing remark out, she lets the flannel jacket slip from her arms. Your mouth waters at the thin, red bikini she’s got on. It pushes up her plentiful tits and ties at the deep line of her toned back. Her hips hold up the knots of what you could imagine is the skimpiest pair of bikini bottoms ever.
Yuki smirks as she buttons her jacket again. “Another word and you’re not getting any of this.”
You shut up for the rest of your waiting. Yuki kisses you as a reward but now you’re really fired up. She looks too damn good in that flimsy little set, and you wonder how you’ll hold back all day. It’s impossible for your hands not to end up on her body.
You also wonder how she got through the whole day without anyone noticing. That jacket of hers must have ridden up and shown what’s underneath. The shorts leave nothing to the imagination either. But Yuki has her ways.
Yeonhee scurries to you, almost tripping over pebbles. She looks like she just ran a marathon.
“There you are,” you say, giving her a hug. Quickly grab her duffel bag that looks like it weighs more than her. “I thought you were gonna back out.”
Yeonhee looks around for CCTVs before pulling her shirt off, revealing a skintight rashguard. “Why would I? I’m not a coward.”
“Sure you aren’t,” teases Yuki, but she’s smiling proudly.
Yeonhee calls shotgun, ever the passenger princess. You suffer in the backseat with their phones, bags, and clothes. The parking lot stones make the road jagged, and you count two times your head knocked into the painfully solid window.
God, it was gonna be a long ride.
The villa isn’t that far from campus but it feels like it. The traffic is especially hellish today. You take several short naps and you wake up still in the same intersection. It only gets worse as the night falls. Yuki beeps furiously at the cyclists taking up the main lane.
“Fucking Sunday drivers,” she murmurs.
Yeonhee shakes her head sympathetically. She squints as headlights pour through the windshield. “Maybe they have places to be. Maybe their mom’s looking for them, or they need to go to the hospital.”
Yuki gathers her emotions with a deep sigh. She can’t bring herself to yell at Yeonhee. It’s both shocking and nice to see her practice some self-restraint. You recall how she almost got into a catfight with a girl at the bar, all because the poor girl asked if you were single.
You raise a brow. “On a bicycle. They’re rushing to the ER on a bicycle.”
“Yeah!” Eager to relay the numbers of books she read, Yeonhee nods. “It’s called sonder. Textbook definition is it’s like, the realization that people have lives just as complicated as ours. We all have our own thing.”
“I call it being an idiot who doesn’t know how to drive,” says Yuki irritably.
You and Yeonhee laugh. You’re quickly scolded for blocking the rearview mirror. Yuki rebuckles Yeonhee’s seartbelt and keeps one hand on her knee for the rest of the ride.
The villa’s fine architecture comes into view. Big, gorgeous houses shadow your figures. You imagine they belong to families with old money dating back centuries, celebrities, or politicians who’ve pocketed more than what they should. Yeonhee looks up at them admiringly. Yuki, on the other hand, jumps off the car like it’s nothing. She’s no stranger to luxury. It’s exactly why you’re confused by her proposal of invading a pool when she has one of her own.
Yeonhee doesn’t know that of course.
You stop in your tracks. “Wait! There’s a guard!”
Both girls snap their heads to the entrance. Indeed, an armed security guard sits in a chair with his arms crossed. A burnt cigarette hangs between his lips. Rough night, you suppose. It couldn’t be an easy job to protect a stingy, gated community all by yourself. Rich people were scared of everything—places that weren’t airconditioned, mosquitoes, and peddlers.
Most importantly, they were scared of college students such as yourself trying to sneak into private property. They had every right to be.
You think you regret agreeing to this now. “What do we do?”
There’s a CCTV propped above the gate. The boom barrier cannot be moved unless the guard controls it. And the guard in question has a fucking gun.
Yuki presses a finger to her lips. “Just follow me.”
You and Yeonhee look at each other in fear. It's impossible that even a wildcat like her could get past this. You offer a prayer that Yuki would set limits tonight. It’s one that would more likely than not go unanswered—Mori Koyuki has never been afraid of anything.
She slowly, surely tiptoes on the grass leading to the wall that surrounds the villa. You follow suit. You can hear Yeonhee whimpering. You accidentally step on a twig, making Yuki glare at you.
Yuki wraps her hands around the metal, leaning back for leverage, arms flexing with the labor—
“No way—”
—and hoists herself up the wall in one, massive go. Her sneakers scrape the otherwise pure white painting with dirt. Yeonhee muffles her squeal with a sleeve.
“Are you out of your fucking mind?” she whispers. You wholeheartedly agree—she’s so off the rails that she made Yeonhee cuss for the first time ever.
Yuki’s grin is sharp. “Try and keep up.”
At this point, you fully believe that if Yuki jumped off a cliff, so would you. Because you find yourself following her, helping Yeonhee over, your hand steady on her elbow. Her denim shorts catch onto the sharp edges. You then rush off into the night, trying to keep your footfalls as quiet as possible.
It takes three turns to finally reach the pool. Perhaps the adrenaline was worth it? Its turquoise walls reach deep into the water, making it look like a real ocean. Corals line the edges with a ladder. It’s the sort of luxury you’d find in high-end resorts.
And here you are swimming in it for free.
Yeonhee’s reflection looks anxious in the water. “Are you sure we should be doing this?”
Yuki puts an arm around her. Her voice is gentle. “We can go back if you want to, but I’m just saying… we’ll miss out on a lot of fun.”
She nods toward you. It’s your cue. You’re the first to break the surface, diving in with a splash that echoes through the silent estate. The water is cool. It isn’t warm enough to sting, but not cold enough to make you shiver.
Yuki throws her jacket off and steps out of her shorts. Her legs could go on forever. She makes a show of putting her hair down before diving right in.
“Cannonball!” she yells. She crashes right next you, causing a flood to take you down with her. Yeonhee giggles at it all. Finally, she steps right in, albeit settling for the shallower parts of the pool.
For a while, it’s just games. You feel like a kid playing pretend again. You invent “Marco Polo” with a twist, where the “Polo” has to answer a ridiculous trivia question Yeonhee comes up with. It ends with a tie, and Yeonhee, far too kind to declare anybody a loser, says you both win. Yuki organizes a floating race, where you all have to kick from one end to the other without using your arms.
“You cheated!” Yeonhee yells. It’s the loudest you’ve heard her speak. Wild golden flames dance in her eyes.
Yuki laughs loudly. “No I didn’t, maybe you need your glasses. You aren’t seeing clearly.”
“I use reading glasses, you—”
She lunges at Yuki. Both of them end up underwater, giggling and yelling.
Tonight has a lot of firsts. Of course, it’s your first time trespassing (and it’s definitely not something you’d be proud of down the line), but it’s also the first time you see Yeonhee let loose. Like, really let loose. Her hair is tangled from the pool water and sticks to those cheeks that stretch into an infectious smile. You don’t see that smile often. You can tell it’s the same for her best friend, who allows her to win their little “fight” and proposes a rematch.
You have no idea what time it is. Probably seven? Eight? You soon lose the energy in the taxing games you all wage. Yeonhee busies herself with perfecting a handstand she learned in gymnastics. Just how many skills does this girl hace? You shake your head in disbelief as you settle for the edge of the pool. Your muscles are sore. Maybe you strained it earlier from when you were playfully wrestling with Yuki.
Lean against the pool edge, head tipped to the sky. You close your eyes for a while. The light from the pool, lamps, and the moon pierce through your eyelids. It’s been a while since you went swimming. Although you still need to work on your backstrokes, your body feels freer down here than the land above.
Or so you thought.
A loud splash makes you open your eyes once more. It’s Yuki. Of course it is.
Only her eyes break above the surface, dark and inviting, making her look like a siren. Uh oh. You know that look too well. It’s the kind she flashes you before pulling you into the nearest staircase well, your hands ending up between her legs. You never had a chance.
Yuki lifts herself up. Water streams down her cleavage. “Wanna play another game?”
“You’re insatiable. Yeonhee’s right there.”
To your surprise, she doesn’t close on you. Hell, she doesn’t even palm your boner underwater. But she does something more dangerous:
She pushes herself out of the pool. Water streams down her body. There, the moon watches Yuki slip out of her bikini top, then her shorts, letting them fall to the tiles with soft, wet plops.
Yeonhee’s handstand collapses. She stares, wide-eyed, then quickly turns her attention back to the water. Both of your faces are heated. You seem to mirror each other often, especially when it comes to Yuki. The two of you blush when Yuki says another sultry innuendo, flinch when she touches you, and let her do anything she wants. You orbit around her like the sun.
She dives back into the pool. Yuki swims to you underwater, emerging right in front of you before her arms hang around your neck. Her full, supple body presses to yours. Before you could ask if she was crazy (although you know the answer to that already), her mouth finds you. Her tongue traces the seam of your lips before diving in.
Fuck.
You meet her with equal intensity, your hands finding her waist under the water. The smooth dip of her amazing hips fill your palms.
Weren’t you hesitating a few seconds ago? You should be telling her that she was insane, that she can’t just skinny dip when Yeonhee was there, that what she’s doing counts for public indecency.
You can’t find it in you to do it now.
Yeonhee is floating nearby. “This pool looks like the ones my rich aunt has, she got it for a fortune with the house,” she says, having forgotten what she saw. Or is she pretending not to have seen anything?
Yuki’s lips break from yours only to whisper, “Keep her talking,” before she kisses you even harder. One of your hands drifts from her waist, sliding down through the water. With how desperate Yuki’s gasping, it’s hard to throw Yeonhee off your scent. But god, will you have to try. You can’t traumatize the poor girl again.
You find her center under the water. The slick sensation between her amazing thighs is undeniable. Even the pool can’t make her this drenched. Your finger slips inside, and she gasps into your mouth, her body arching against you. Move slowly, your thumb finding a rhythm against her clit while your index finger curls inside her.
Yeonhee is now discussing the cleanliness of the pool water. “It’s very well-maintained. Like not even a leaf or something. The people here must pay well.”
Yuki’s breaths come in short bursts against your cheek. It’s like she wants to get caught. Her hips are moving with your hand, eyes closed tight. She bites your lower lip to stifle a moan. Her own hand is fighting the pressure of the water to jerk you off.
“You think they just… clean this with regular draining?” you ask, your voice remarkably even. Yuki giggles in your shoulder at how stupid you sound.
“No and yes. With traditional chlorine, of course,” Yeonhee corrects. “If you look closely, you can actually notice how the light throws it off a little. That’s why you don’t see fog or dirt. Assuming they don’t have a natural source, regular cleaning would be better than just wasting water each time someone steps in.”
Whatever that means. Your focus is on Yuki, who trembles in your arms. Her forehead rests against yours. You quickly add another finger. Make it your goal to get her there before Yeonhee realizes what you’re doing. The kiss becomes torrid. You can feel her climax building steadily.
Yeonhee, bless her innocent soul, starts speculating on the villa owner’s nationality based on the garden layout. She says something about how culture often influences design even when said designer creates internationally, but you don’t hear any of it. All you can hear is Yuki’s muffled cry in the crook of your neck.
Yuki’s body convulses, sharply jerking against you. You keep your digits still so she has something to squeeze down on as she cums. She neglects her strained handjob to squeeze your side. She can’t think clearly. The thrill of it all—the fact that this pool wasn’t hers and that Yeonhee could catch you if she looked the wrong way—gets her off as much as you do.
Slowly, you withdraw your hand. Her kiss is less hungry this time in an attempt to catch her breath. Beneath you, the rapids of the water finally subside.
Yeonhee finally turns around. You and Yuki immediately look away from each other. Yuki swims a few feet away but Yeonhee already looks suspicious.
She opens her mouth and you hold your breath for the worst.
“Did you guys hear that? I think a car might be coming.”
The spell breaks. She was right. The unmistakable sound of a revved engine was coming your way. Yuki, with effortless nonchalance, swims to where her clothes lie and starts putting them back on. You dry off your hair the best you can. You can only hope you didn’t leave anything in your panic.
-
Later in the car, Yeonhee’s all smiles. “That was fun!”
Her hair is wrapped in a towel. Yuki’s long since given up telling you not to wet her seats. But you try your best anyway, changing into a pair of shorts and putting on a cap. She keeps one hand on the steering wheel while she dabs her face with skincare. She puts some on the tip of Yeonhee’s nose and she giggles.
Yuki smiles at her. If she looked at her with more love than she already is, hearts might pop out of her pupils. Seeing her best friend without all the tension in her shoulders is a different type of joy. She’s literally glowing.
“I told you having fun won’t kill anybody.” She pauses, and looks at the rearview mirror. “Let’s just hope it won’t get us a lawsuit.”
-
Maybe it’s cheating. Maybe it’s a loophole that doesn’t go by the rules you’ve set for the bucket list. But this is about Yeonhee—you two are just in it for the ride. So, several weeks later, you all decide to miss that boring personal development class and push Yeonhee to abstain from her project.
Filling this part of the bucket list is long overdue. Yuki had presentations lined up for each day. Meanwhile, you had to submit several sketches for architecture. But you couldn’t imagine how much busier Yeonhee was compared to the two of you. Two of her organizations required a booth and a meeting, forcing her to play carpenter again plus fish out a few thousand won.
You’re just glad to be in The Cuppa. It’s your safe space. When all the shit you have to do beats you down—particularly toward the end of this semester where your professors unleash all unholy hell on you—this is where you turn to.
“It’s multi-tasking,” you explain to her, twirling your straw through the boba pearls. Then, to put things in her perspective: “Better than missing a class one day then flunking another project tomorrow, right?”
You ordered a classic to save your money. Yeonhee goes for a strawberry milk tea. Meanwhile, Yuki opts for this large, delicious milkshake topped with whipped cream and syrup.
It just begs another question: how the hell does Yuki keep that amazing figure? She’s never been one to go on diets. Right now, she’s chugging a thousand-calorie milkshake with no second thought about it. She never fails to keep you guessing.
The anxious taps of Yeonhee’s ballerina flat breaks your trail of thought. She’s staring longingly at her laptop. It’s at the edge of the table, closed and locked so as not to tempt her. She gives you an accusing look.
“What?” you ask.
She pouts. “You two are a bad influence.”
Yuki laughs heartily. “Oh please,” she says, waving a hand through the air. “That personal development class does nothing anyway. They should’ve kept that shit in first year.”
She gestures around, as if to say, look, you’re having way more fun out here than in some boring classroom. She seems to be the only one appreciating the added bubble tea menu. The Cuppa has a gorgeous, homely aesthetic with relaxing Sade tunes in the background. Not to mention the generous discount given because Yeonhee had connections with Eunbi, the manager. But the girl is still biting her nails nervously.
“Besides,” adds Yuki sweetly, “I’ve got enough personality already. I don’t need that class.”
Yeonhee quirks her lip. “Thank you for that really helpful insight.”
Yuki smirks. It’s rare for Yeonhee to be feisty. It does annoy her, however, that she’s letting out some of that bitchiness over a useless course of all things.
Sensing that nothing is getting to her, you jump in to help. Place your drink on the table for a minute. The tissue complete with The Cuppa logo sticks to the moisture forming around the plastic.
“Look, if this is about the deadline—”
“Yes, it’s about the deadline—”
“—then you deserve the break anyway.” You open Yeonhee’s laptop to show her the island of notifications from her group. One after the other, each message reads of panic. “You carried the dissertation on your back. It’s time they do their part.”
@/KimYeonhee where are you?? 😣 We need you, one message from Yunkyoung reads. It’s followed by a screenshot of a ridiculously constructed paragraph.
Another from Suyun says, hey idk why you’re inactive but… where’s the doc Yunkyoung’s talking about? Is this the map plan LOL
Too many people take advantage of Yeonhee’s infinite patience. For so long, she let them take another three hours of sleep while she lost hers fixing the bibliography. She was the one who sought credible sources both offline and online.
Now that she’s found temporary freedom from it, Yeonhee feels… odd. The darkness under her eyes was gone, replaced by a healthy softness to her cheeks. She’s radiant again but losing the weight of work is something she’s definitely not used to. She was accustomed to fitting her schedule between deadlines and writing up another paper.
Yeonhee looks two seconds away from typing in her PIN and getting back on the Google Doc. “But what if they don’t submit it on time?”
“It doesn’t matter. Professor Goeun is well aware that you’ve been doing all the work. Your groupmates should be the ones worrying, not you. You have to put yourself first.”
“I—I know but it just feels so wrong—”
Before you know it, Yeonhee bursts into tears. She covers her face with her hands, shaking in fear. Her frame is so tense, so paralyzed with anxiety that your heart breaks. You wonder if you’ve taken this too far. This one’s on you. You should’ve checked with her to see if this whole ordeal was okay.
Alarmed, Yuki wraps her arms around her. “Hey,” she coos softly. She runs her fingers through the girl’s hair. “Hey, you’re alright. You’re fine. What’s the matter?”
Yeonhee wipes her tears with her wrist. You offer her some tissues, and she accepts gladly. Her face is flushed red. The tears that puff her face make her look like someone far younger, someone who’s just been brought into the real world and has no idea what to do.
“We’re sorry. We shouldn’t have taken it this far.”
She shakes her head. “No, it’s not that.” The tiny smile on her face is genuine. “I actually had a lot of fun. This is the most fun I’ve had since… well, forever.”
You relax a little. At least you know now that she isn’t crying because you took it too far. The normal fun you and Yuki have could be extreme for her. This was a girl who had gone by the rules all her life, from the dress code to deadlines.
“Well, thank goodness.” Relief washes over Yuki’s face. That’s what matters, isn't it? She holds Yeonhee tighter. “Then why are you crying? Did we say something wrong?”
“Not at all. It’s just that—” Yeonhee hiccups a little, a sound caught between a sob and a groan. She lifts her slim shoulders. “I’ve never heard anyone tell me to put myself first.”
In the silence that hangs in the air, you could almost hear your heart and Yuki’s shatter. Yeonhee bows her head once more. Fat teardrops land on the fabric of her skirt.
You’ve accused people before of taking Yeonhee the wrong way. Yuki told you that she was bullied in high school by people who made her do their homework. She was called names for the sin of being dedicated to her studies.
But you find out now that you’ve misinterpreted her, too. Doesn’t matter if it was unintentional. She wasn’t doing the whole neat freak thing for fun. Nobody who was sane would do that. She was doing it because it was what she was used to. People expected her to fit the good girl stereotype, fitting her into a box since she was a teenager. People lounged back while relying on her to do the dirty work.
You cup her tiny, adorable face in your hands. “Well, you’re hearing it now.”
You thumb away a tear that trickles down her cheek and give her a quick, sweet kiss. Her lipbalm tastes like cherries.
It’s an impulsive thing to do. You know how these always end up. Curse yourself for putting your heart over your head again. But when you pull away, Yeonhee’s smiling gratefully.
She’s your friend. She’s got your back and you don’t have to be scared around her.
You search for any anger in Yuki’s face, already preparing to be scolded, but you find none. Instead, she interlocks her fingers with Yeonhee’s. “Remember we’re doing this for you,” she tells her. “You call the shots. We can stop anytime you want.”
The look in Yuki’s eyes, only reserved for you and Yeonhee, is so tender that it feels like you shouldn’t be witnessing their exchange. They’ve been linked before you even came along: braiding each other’s hair in high school, teaming up for entrance exams, and now, finishing college together. Together, like they’ve always been.
You have the good sense to leave, but then Yuki pulls you in to join the hug. Your eyes close. The warmth of the embrace somehow heals part of you that you never knew needed closure. They’re the friends you prayed for when you had nobody. They’re the closest and realest friends you’ve ever had, and it’s a scary thought, but you truly don’t know what to do without them.
Yeonhee finally starts to laugh. Minutes ago, she was drowned by appreciation for you, and now you’re sandwiching her in a hug. She gently pushes you away with a sniffle.
“You guys are so corny,” she says. “You’re lucky I love you.”
-
One of the many things Kim Yeonhee missed out on is the night life.
Every college student has dipped into it once or twice. Personally, you started seeing the beauty of it after a particularly horrible score. You went out with Yuki, had drinks, sat by the Han River, everything. It was a vice best handled at arm’s length. You knew that if you went regularly, a lot of things would go sideways.
Tonight, only the neon lights from the clubs of Gangnam illuminate the streets. This was the rich kid’s playground—everywhere you turn and look, your wallet practically begs to be emptied. There’s clothes, liquor, and tattoo shops. Samgyupsals are the biggest attraction here, but you didn’t get all dressed up to eat.
Graduation is in a week and you’re here to have unfiltered, shameless fun.
“Do you think you could handle it?” Yuki had asked Yeonhee, her voice tinged with concern. And it seemed as if she should ask the same to you—she has on black leather shorts, a crop top, and a bold lipstick that makes you want to pin her to the wall right there and then. Jesus. How could you handle all of that?
Yeonhee looked around. The wild landscape of the city was a panorama reflecting on her sunglasses. “We didn’t commute all the way here for nothing. I’m not going to chicken out now.”
This was not the Kim Yeonhee you know. Your Yeonhee sways around in little coquette skirts and ribboned top. This one had on a red dress that clung to her body, cut at the sides to show that deadly waist.
Yuki did the honors of doing Yeonhee’s hair and makeup. The almond shape of her eyes looks more dangerous with the sharp eyeliner.
You only noticed now the slight fang she has in the corner of her mouth, making her look like a vampire bathed in neon. You gulp. Yuki must have noticed your reaction, but if she did, she doesn’t say anything. Her knowing smirk says enough.
You party so much you don’t think you could attend the graduation afterparty. This night alone is equivalent to all the parties you’ll have in the future, enough to fill the gaps of your wedding and first car. The alcohol hums in your veins like little jolts of electricity, making your mind fuzzy. Your thoughts blur into one another and dictate your hands around Yuki’s waist. You always turn to her when you’ve got some in your system. Her familiar, reliable touch gets you down.
It cuts the same way for her, too. Yuki, damn her, presses her cute ass flush against your hard-on. The skirt lifts and pins to your stomach.
Yuki starts to move, igniting a fire with the friction of fabric and flesh on your erection. She raises her arms as she dances. There’s no need for pretense anyway. Everyone’s either doing the same thing you are or perhaps chatting their way into someone’s pants. But Yuki loves subtlety, no matter how bad she is at maintaining it.
You groan against her ear. “God—” A hundred bodies dance in huddles around you yet hers is the most magnetic. Nothing can pull you off her, not with those curves and waist.
She giggles, letting her head fall into your shoulder. Her hair against your ear muffles the Ne-Yo they’ve got booming through the speakers. Through the noise, you hear her, sultry and clear: “Are you gonna do it? Gonna cum on my ass in front of all these people?”
“If you keep doing that, I will.”
Your grip on her hips grows tighter. Your groans and whines are a symphony as Yuki does exactly what you fear and want. She bends over a little, shaking those cute cheeks into your core, and directs her grinding to the center of her shorts. You can feel how soaked she is in so little time.
She looks back at you, biting her lip. “You know she’s watching us, right?”
Although you’re drunk, it’s not difficult to know who she’s talking about. Yeonhee, your brilliant, beautiful friend, has gone away to get herself some drinks. She’s a big girl, right? She said so herself. You and Yuki felt comfortable enough to let her into the crowd and have some fun. But while she was gone, you were going to have some fun, too.
And you see her over Yuki’s shoulder. She’s just… standing there, glued to her place on the dance floor at the sight of you and Yuki. She stays there despite several wild moves from the girl in the tube dress and a guy who, when he saw her eyes on you, decided she might not be interested in him. You move to still Yuki’s hips, but to your shock, she doesn’t let herself be held back.
No. Yuki looks straight at Yeonhee as she rubs into you harder. Even flashes her a wicked smile.
You burn up for a different reason. This isn’t the first time Yeonhee caught you—this was just one of the several traumatizing moments she found Yuki unable to keep her hands off you. Now, she’s unlucky enough to see you dryhumping her in a public place. You hope this time, she commends you for choosing the club, which is shameless enough to let it pass.
“I—” Yeonhee’s words die just when they’re about to leave her mouth. She should’ve expected this, right?
Yuki pouts mockingly. “Is there something wrong, Yeonhee?”
Yeonhee realizes there’s no use in giving you your drinks. She had to fight a stampede for them, too. She sets them on a table, wondering what she should say. She has so many questions. The curiosity might kill her if she bites her tongue.
“Why are you looking at him like that…” asks Yeonhee. It’s two in the morning, she’s slightly tipsy, and right now, you’re starting to look really good all worked up.
You could feel the bass of the music pump in your chest. It grows rhythmless when you realize Yuki is, in fact, undressing you with her eyes. She doesn’t even stop grinding on you. She has no problem showing everyone what she likes to do to you.
And hearing the innocent possessiveness in Yeonhee’s voice takes you higher than any drug.
“Am I not allowed to?” Yuki laughs, taking no offense because Yeonhee clearly meant none. The girl was only curious, almost naive. “I’m just trying to figure out the perfect place for the tattoo. We talked about it earlier, remember.”
She isn’t totally lying. To finally complete the bucket list, all three of you had agreed on the friendship tattoo you’ll get. Yeonhee volunteered quotes, but when she heard the vulgar double entendres Yuki suggested, that was quickly shot down. You finally settled for a small moon (you), star (Yeonhee), and a planet (Yuki.) You don’t know when you got sidetracked from going to the tattoo parlor. You’re willing to bet it was when Yuki saw Swan again after a while near the entrance. One thing led to another, and now you’re here in this extremely compromising position.
Yeonhee doesn’t buy it; her cheeks are cherry red. She manages a little white lie anyway because, well, you were her boyfriend. Yuki might not like labels but that gives her no right to stake her claim over you. “I was just concerned.”
“Are you jealous?”
Both you and Yeonhee stop dead in your tracks.
“What?”
Yuki stops grinding against you. She has another idea, and Mori Koyuki isn’t one to have hesitation. Her hips sway as she approaches Yeonhee.
“Do you want me to look at you like I look at him?” she asks, and does exactly that: shamelessly letting her dark eyes wander over her amazing body. She knows more about Yeonhee beyond that steadfast dedication to her degree and her favorite color. She knows what she’s hiding under those big clothes.
Yeonhee looks like she’s going to explode. You’re both speechless as Yuki circles her like prey.
(Not far off. See the scene earlier, before you booked a taxi to Gangnam:
“No offense,” said Yuki as she towered over her, putting mascara on her fine lashes, “it’s fine to be cute, really. But it’s getting old. We know you’re capable of being a hottie.”
They were on top of each other on the rocking bed. You tried not to look but there was a clear, mutual feeling between you and Yeonhee. You had no idea how to handle an enigma like Yuki, especially when she had you wrapped around her little finger. She knew that well.
Yeonhee attempted to move, but was held back by Yuki pressing her weight more firmly on top of her. She still had to do her eyeshadow. The smokey color on her eyelids made the flustered color on her cheeks more obvious. Funny. Yuki hadn’t put blush on her yet.)
Yeonhee’s throat bobs. So often do words fail her when she’s around Yuki, when the younger girl sizes her up like this. With them, the fact that she’s older is completely disregarded, honorifics out the window, the pointless performative respect gone. Yuki already claimed the upper hand.
She wields control like it’s nothing. “Oh, you’ve been dreaming of it, haven’t you, baby?” she asks. Yeonhee doesn’t shake her head. “I’m right, aren’t I? You want me to fuck you like I fuck him.”
Wait wait wait, this was absofuckinglutely nowhere on the bucket list, you scream in your head. You can’t tear your eyes off the scene in front of you. It’s the way Yuki drives her crazy, and how Yeonhee doesn’t even make a move to fight or deny anything. Whatever Yuki’s saying is the plain truth, in all its obscenity. Her flimsy excuses won’t hold up in court, where the jury’s taken Yuki’s side. A unanimous ruling in Yuki’s favor.
That’s just how the world works for her. Yuki gets what she wants no matter what.
“I—” Yeonhee stammers nervously. What percentage of her life has been spent cowering and blushing around Yuki? The words often die on her tongue when she gets close. No one can say no to her.
Not even a mathematician like Yeonhee can calculate it fast enough before Yuki puts her lips on hers.
Yeonhee goes still. Yuki’s hand cups the side of her face so she could slip her tongue inside, capturing her mouth even harder. She could feel the heat radiating from Yeonhee’s cheek on her fingertips. She liplocks her more passionately, making it something she’d never forget, putting on a show for you. Their tongues pass over each other, plump lips soft.
She smiles as she pulls away. To you, it felt a lot longer than that. Your cock strains in your pants while Yeonhee looks positively turned on. Yearning’s etched all over her blushing features.
“Well, that’s one off the list,” Yeonhee jokes, trying to pretend as if it were nothing. You share awkward laughs to brush it off. Hate that there aren’t automatic sitcom laughs to hold up.
But she knows that was an unwise decision when Yuki places a hand on her waist.
“Want to check off another one?”
-
Yuki would do anything for her best friend.
They’ve known each other since the days of puppy love and hormonal acne. Seeing each other grow up was a privilege. It’s the kind of thing that sustains a friendship. They took entrance exams together, cried over exes, everything. Yuki knows they’d do it all over again to preserve what they had.
And so when she checks in to a five star hotel suite just to fill up the last of the bucket list, she knows Yeonhee would do the same if need be.
You’d argue that it was ridiculous to spend so much for the sole purpose of fucking. The premise itself was ridiculous. But you can’t exactly complain when you’ve got Yeonhee’s hungry lips on your mouth, and Yuki kissing the back of your neck. You feel her teeth sink into your shoulder and you groan helplessly. You’re stuck between two magnets that are both attracted to you. There’s nowhere to run.
You don’t plan to.
If news gets out before graduation and makes it onto the university’s gossip page, this is the best excuse you can come up with: all of you were pretty drunk.
But lord knows that with or without alcohol, you can’t say no to the girls’ amazing bodies. Your hands are attached infinitely to Yeonhee’s waist. Occasionally, you reach back to cup Yuki’s cheek, pulling her closer to you.
Yeonhee finally pulls away. It’s like your breaths were sealed into a vacuum and left you in this expensive suite, with her bra half unclasped and Yuki’s lipstick already smeared. Only they can make you sweat in an airconditioned room.
You’ve found her nipple, twisting it under that excuse of a dress. She heaves a delicate sigh. She’s so sensitive. Each little touch causes the sweetest noises to spill from her pretty mouth. “God,” she whines, breathless, “you’re such a good kisser.”
Yuki smirks. “You’ve been missing out on a lot more than French kisses, Yeonhee.”
As if to show off the example, she gropes your clothed cock. It’s making a dent through your boxers. Yeonhee can’t take her eyes off it. You’ve never quite seen this needy look on her before. It suits her, to be honest, but god, you really did corrupt her, didn’t you? She looks far from the good girl she was months ago.
Or maybe she was never the good girl she claimed to be. Perhaps her eyes lingered longer than they should when she caught you and Yuki going at it, or watched your arms around each other, wishing for something she didn’t quite understand.
The thought makes you shiver. The temperature provides some refuge, sort of, reaching an all-time high when Yuki pulls your boxers down. Her fist is a velvet grip around your length. She jerks you off quickly, making your knees buckle as she twists her hand around. She giggles at the precum leaking from your tip.
“Aww, did I turn you on too much? You’re so fucking hard and you aren’t even inside me yet.”
Yuki leaves an open-mouthed kiss on your shoulder while Yeonhee watches, too stunned to even speak. She’s squirming. She wants to slip her hand under her dress the moment Yuki’s kisses turn into little love bites. Your flesh is peppered with the stain of Yuki’s lipstick under purple bruises sure to hurt tomorrow.
Your teeth grit against each other. It’s impossible to cope with the smooth friction of Yuki’s hand. You can’t even survive Yeonhee’s sultry gaze alone.
Yuki nods at Yeonhee. Her other hand strokes the bone of your hip. “Get on your knees, gorgeous. Show him how badly you want that dick.”
Curse under your breath. What’s happening now is a fantasy you’ll never admit to having. Nobody can beat this information out of you.
But Yeonhee seems to already know. She looks hypnotized as she sinks to the floor. She doesn’t even hesitate. Her dress looks better on the carpet. A fast fashion piece like that doesn’t deserve to drape Yeonhee’s wide hips, or those perky tits just begging to be played with.
Tighten your abs to keep you from blowing. Each scene unfolding at this very moment is a dream come true. The loss of Yuki’s quick hand on your cock feels foreign. You were used to always touching each other, joining your bodies so often that a few centimeters apart feels like hell.
No matter: Yeonhee brings you right back to heaven with her lips on your shaft.
Her tongue drags a trail of hot drool on your underside. She’s an amateur, her skills unable to parallel with Yuki’s. But she’s getting there for sure. Besides, Yuki had the unfair advantage of blowing you a million times. There was that one under the table as you gamed, or some mornings ago when she felt your cum was a better alternative to milk. You can appreciate the innocent lapping at the sensitive flesh of your balls and cockhead.
“Oh, don’t be a tease now, Yeonhee.” Yuki kneels next to the older girl. “You’ve done that for far too long.”
Their lewd conversation is an aphrodisiac, you swear. Hearing Yuki guide her friend in blowing you feels straight out of your dreams. Have you maxed your luck out? You can’t aim higher than this: having two gorgeous girls prepare to drain your cum.
When Yeonhee’s wet mouth greets your dick, it’s final. You don’t want to wake up from this dream.
Your head falls back. You stumble a little, overwhelmed by the sensation of that vibrating whimper and that tongue of hers. You fall back against the edge of the bed. A few inches slip out from the clench of her lips. But it’s back once she’s gotten her hands on your quads to help her out.
Your sex is completely drenched with her work. She sucks you off harder before she pulls away for a breather. Her shoulders rise in sync with her heavy panting. A string of spit connects her swollen lips to you.
Then she goes in for the kill. Yeonhee pushes herself forward and welcomes you into her tight throat. Your knuckles turn pale on the edge of the mattress.
“Jesus, Yeon…” Can’t even get her name out. Her lips are glossed with drool as she takes you. Her soft cheeks hollow and you’re able to dent the skin gently with your tip. The feel of the side of her cheeks alone makes you shiver. It isn’t even that which makes you weak at the knees, gripping at the edge of the hotel bed. It’s the fucking pace she sets, too fast even for her to keep up with, reintroducing your girth into the column of her throat. It brings tears into those pretty eyes.
You have to fist your hand in Yeonhee’s glossy hair when she starts to gag a little. The contraction of her throat has your toes curling, and you have to remind yourself that you aren’t allowed to pull her hair or force your cock deeper even if she wanted to. There’s a boundary here that is still there despite how blurred it is. She’s still your best friend.
But then Yuki breaks the tension and fixes her fingers over yours in Yeonhee’s hair. She starts to force Yeonhee’s head down your cock, guiding her back and forth. You feel Yeonhee’s grip on your thighs grow tighter.
“Y-Yuki, what the hell!” you gasp. Your muscles wound tight, the friction of Yeonhee’s throat and deliciously plump lips torturing you. You want to reprimand Yuki, tell her Yeonhee’s not ready for that. Let her take her time. She’s not as wild as she is.
But Yeonhee doesn’t even fight the pressure any less than you fight to free yourself from the overwhelming pleasure. Encouraged by Yuki’s stern fingers curled on her scalp, she takes in quick breaths through her nose (or tries to) as she takes your cock. Her whimpers only add to the pleasure when they buzz against you.
Guilt is what you should feel in this situation. Yeonhee always pushes herself to take more than what she can. Her hands deftly play with your balls, eyes trained on your face to see if she’s doing well, your cock from tip to base pleasured by those deadly lips. But it’s only mindnumbing ecstasy that envelops you now—no thoughts, no consequences, only Yeonhee and that fuckable face.
“That’s it, pretty girl,” says Yuki in a whisper. Her grip loosens and then becomes almost comforting. She’s stroking Yuki’s strands, wiping away the stray tears and assessing the bruises. “Always knew you could do it. You just wanted to be a cocktease this whole time.”
Whatever. You’d say those months before this night spent filling up the bucket list paid off in the end. You’re going to cum. The furious bobs of Yeonhee’s face are throwing you over the edge.
Much to your disappointment, Yuki keeps her from finishing the job. Her glistening lips depart from your aching dick with an obscene pop. And lord, Yeonhee looks utterly wrecked. Her hair, which was done with hairspray and attentive combing, falls down her shoulders in a mess.
And through all that, Yeonhee still looks like the prettiest girl in the world.
She whines in protest. “What’d you do that for? I was getting so good.”
“That’s only the beginning,” replies Yuki simply. “Doesn’t count until he really gets that big thing inside you.”
You’re too fucked out to even see right. It’s the alcohol or something,, blurring things together and making up what isn’t there. But if the scene of Yuki reaching under Yeonhee’s legs and stroking her is real, that’s just another surprise of the night.
Yeonhee purrs at the feeling. She’s drunk with pleasure. She’ll have a hard time weaning herself off the feeling of Yuki’s fingers against her soaked center. You know the feeling too well.
She’s made a mess through her panties already. Yuki focuses the pressure on her clit, making the girl squirm and finding relief in clinging to your flexed arm. “Yuki, please…”
“No, don’t look at me like that. Be a big girl and tell him straight up what you want.’
Yeonhee lifts her head to you. The light seems to single her out, contouring each perfect shape on her face and figure. Where do you even start to look—her glorious thighs wet with her own slick or those eyes that, for the first time, hold your gaze?
“Want you to fuck me,” she says. “Want you to make me cum so hard I can’t think. Please, I deserve it. I’ve waited so long.”
The filth in those words is ridiculous, so removed from the Yeonhee who wouldn’t curse even if nobody could hear her. The raw confession is a direct trigger to the blood rushing to your shaft. Waited so long.
Maybe that’s why you lift her onto the bed carelessly.
Maybe that’s why you tower over her as you hold her legs together, all sane thought out of the window at the sight of the dress bunching up at her hips.
Maybe that’s why despite all the reasons why you shouldn’t do this, you slip your length between her thighs and realize you’ve forever dreamed of doing that.
The combined wetness from the previous blowjob and the waterfall between her thighs makes you tremble. She’s so fucking wet. Her thighs are slick and allow you to set a mindless pace, chasing after the soft friction they provide. The underside of your cock grinds against her pussy lips, hitting her clit along the way and making her whimper.
“Please, oh god, please—” Her eyes screw shut. It feels way too good. Each part of her tight body is screaming for you to fuck her. The poor thing’s about to cry from desperation.
Yuki, definitely not allowing herself to go without a little gratification, climbs over the bed. Her clothes join Yeonhee’s on the floor. She straddles Yeonhee’s shoulders, lowering herself until she’s seated fully on Yeonhee’s face. Yeonhee makes a little sound of surprise. But if there’s anything you know about Yuki, one taste always makes people come back for more. Once they get their tongue in her mouth or on her clit, it becomes an addiction. It’s the kind you never want to recover from.
So it’s no surprise when Yeonhee’s hands come up to grip Yuki’s hips. She starts lapping at the soaked flesh eagerly, tongue running along her folds. You can hear just how well she’s eating Yuki out, how wet she’s making her from the obscene sounds filling the suite.
It’s final. You have to relieve yourself.
You withdraw from the clasp of Yeonhee’s thighs. Sweat shimmers on your bodies. You position yourself at her entrance, and although Yuki’s insane midriff blocks you from her view, you can picture how needy she is, written all over her face and in the way she’s frantically eating Yuki out.
“Fuck!” You can’t take it any longer. Finally, finally push into her. Her spasming walls grip onto you like they won’t dare you to go anywhere. “Yeonhee, you’re so goddamn tight.”
You can barely move. Her pussy has a death grip on you. You can only manage to get more of yourself inside when her walls flutter.
Yeonhee moans into Yuki’s cunt. You set a deep, relentless pace, each thrust driving her harder into the mattress. Your moans blend into theirs. It’s filthy. You’re hypnotized by how your cock dents the flat of Yeonhee’s tummy, how Yuki’s riding grows more erratic. Her thighs bear the indentations of Yeonhee’s fingernails.
The only sensation is dizzying pleasure and heat. You’re a triangle of sin, grinding and moaning and pushing against each other. You’ve no idea how it got to this point, but you never want to leave.
“I’m so fucking close,” whimpers Yuki. Her thighs crush Yeonhee’s head. Her hips crash into her mouth again and again. There’s no room to breathe. Her pitchy moans turn into screams. “Oh my god!”
It’s Yuki who shatters first, trembling against Yeonhee’s face. Her juices flood the girl’s mouth and down to the sheets. It dribbles down her chin in messy drops. Soon, you feel the convulsion of Yeonhee’s own body around you, triggered by Yuki’s climax and the overwhelming fullness. Her hole seals around you as she cries out.
“Don’t stop,” orders Yuki. Her voice is rough and low. She dismounts Yeonhee’s mouth so you can hear the full extent of her screams, how good you’re making her feel. “You’re not going anywhere until you cum inside her.”
That’s something you won’t hesitate to obey. Yeonhee’s ecstatic face pulls you over the edge immediately after. Each heavy thrust is met with a bounce of her tits. You fall forward into them before painting her walls with thick cum.
It’s a total mess. You pity the hotel staff who will have to clean up this room tomorrow. Your cum spills out of Yeonhee’s pussy and into the sheets. Lipstick stains the pillows as a permanent reminder of what happened here. Take a mental note to leave a big tip as a formal apology.
A minimum of a hundred dollars, maybe?
The two women lie panting on the bed. Messy streaks of hair circle Yeonhee’s head like a halo. You smirk. It would be fitting if you hadn’t just creampied her. At least Yuki isn’t pretending to be a saint. Once you’ve got the energy to pull yourself up, tear your body away from theirs, she stops you.
“Where do you think you’re going, boy toy?”
You freeze. Accusation’s written all over Yuki’s face. It’s a challenge you always lose.
“Have you forgotten about me?” Yuki asks. Her mile-long legs have a clear path to you. “You still have to fill my ass up.”
She captures your lips again. The protest dies in your throat. You’ll always give in to her, no matter what, and she knows this well. Her lips taste like strawberry chapstick.
You rub your hand against her arousal, and press a finger against Yuki’s other entrance. She stiffens for a second, then nods frantically against your mouth. Yes, she seems to say without the need for words, yes, please. You replace your fingers with the head of your cock; she lets out a sound that’s pure ecstasy. The teasing penetration is slower, but the chills still run down your back. Her puckered hole is begging to be ruined.
“Stand up,” you command, your voice rough.
Yuki obeys. Sex is the only time you have a semblance of control over her. She quickly retrieves a bottle of lube from the side table drawer. You’re puzzled. She must have kept it in her bag, smirked at the bouncer when he realized what it was.
She turns around and presents herself to you, her shorts around her ankles. You come behind her and help to pull her panties down.
Yuki lets out a choked sob of anticipation. The leather of the ottoman is cool against her forehead. The crown of your cock kisses the tight rim of her asshole.
“Watch and learn, Yeonhee,” you murmur, and in time with her exhale, you push inside.
She’s a hot vise around you. Yuki lets out a vulgar cry that morphs into a moan. She sounds more and more broken as more inches of your shaft pierce through her plump ass.
Each thrust jolts through her slender frame. The ottoman creaks. Yuki’s knuckles are white where she grips it. Her moans are continuous now, mixed with your name and Yeonhee’s. The latter’s glassy eyes are fixed on the two of you.
“Fuck, oh fuck, Just like that! Ruin my asshole!”
You feel the coil in your gut tighten. It’s a pressure you know all too well. You reach around Yuki’s hip, your fingers finding her clit, rubbing hard, fast circles.
It sends her over the edge immediately. Her body clamps down on you in rhythmic pulses, pulling the orgasm from you with violent force. You bury yourself to the hilt as far as you can go. Your hands take leverage on her hips as you drive yourself in her asshole again and again.
You slowly pull out. Yuki’s legs feel like jelly. She slumps against the ottoman. You’d help her up but your own bones feel broken. You collapse against the bed beside your other friend. All of you are thoroughly spent.
“See?” Yuki whispers. Her finger traces Yeonhee’s lower lip. “Now you’ll know what to do next time.”
-
No matter how filthy your story is, it remains what it is: one that shows how fast you grow up. You’ve grown a few inches taller (can’t say the same for the girls), but none the wiser. You’re still young. Graduating won’t magically make you know what to do with your life. A good course doesn’t guarantee a good job. Even Yeonhee’s high grades won’t mean a high salary. If worse comes to worst, you’ll all have to beg Yuki to let you move in with her.
She’d probably call the two of you dumbasses. You’d reason that she has another house anyway—she’s the one who’s got it easier while you and Yeonhee have unsure tomorrows ahead of you. She’d roll her eyes again before agreeing anyway.
But that’s what you think will happen. For now, it’s this:
A furious matriarch knits her brows at the glitchy footage in front of her. She raises a finger in the poor guard’s face and asks why the hell he couldn’t afford better videos when she pays him so well. Now, the pool is ruined and it’s his fault. He failed to protect the villa from three people who could’ve been burglars if they hadn't had a little luck.
“What is this, a charity house? How the hell did they get in?”
“I’m sorry, ma’am—”
“I want you to find out who they are or I’ll have you fired!” she screams, and that’s that. He couldn’t lose his job.
He asks a friend of a friend if they can upscale the video. She does, but the quality of the original is so low that the aftermath is still incomprehensible. The three culprits’ faces are still pixelated.
All the evidence left at the scene won’t help either. It’s only a wet piece of paper. It’s drenched through the material, resulting in the only readable line being:
dick !!!!!!
The security guard rips it up in his frustration and throws the stupid thing into the pool. “Fucking kids these days.”
Haneul pressed the phone between his ear and shoulder as he struggled with the shop's back door lock. "You're joking, right?" he muttered. His lunch break was already cut short by a last-minute client. Now this.
Sooyoung sighed on the other end that particular sigh meaning she wasn't asking. "Just a few months. Her dorm fell through. Your place is ten minutes from campus. She won't be trouble."
The door finally gave way. The optometry shop's back room hummed with fluorescent lights. "I haven't seen Yunah since she was twelve," Haneul said. "And you're telling me now?"
"Twelve and a half," Sooyoung corrected pointlessly. "I packed her things. She's on the train. Arrives by seven."
Haneul stared at shelves of contact solution. The neat rows suddenly felt suffocating. "You didn't ask."
A pause. Then Sooyoung's voice softened rare for her. "I'm asking now. She's your niece. And she's... different now."
"How?"
Static crackled. "Remember how quiet she was? Well, she talks now. A lot."
Haneul's grip made his phone case creak. He could feel his left-eye headache coming the one that always flared when Sooyoung steamrolled him. "Fine," he said, already regretting it. "If she burns my place down, I'm mailing her ashes to you."
* * *
The plastic bags dug into Haneul's fingers as he fumbled with his keys. Beer cans clinked against soju bottles. He grabbed instant noodles and kimchi on autopilot before realizing he had no clue what Yunah ate these days.
He stopped mid-step before entering his apartment complex.
The girl under the flickering apartment lights wasn't the wide-eyed kid he remembered. She was talll, the kind that made people look twice. Streetlight caught her sharp jawline as she checked her phone. Her oversized t-shirt that shows half of her shoulder and baggy jeans. Haneul nearly dropped the groceries.
This was Yunah? The kid who used to hide behind Sooyoung's legs?
"You're early," he managed.
Yunah pocketed her phone with a practiced flick. "Train was fast. Also, you're holding those bags like they're alive."
Haneul looked down. His knuckles were white around the handles.
She leaned against the railing, one ankle crossed over the other. "Are we doing this reunion outside, or...?"
Haneul invited her to his place.
* * *
The apartment smelled of lemon cleaner and laundry. Yunah's boots thudded on the hardwood, ignoring the shoe rack. She surveyed the spotless living room aligned throw pillows, neat magazines and whistled. "Damn. You live in a showroom?"
Haneul set the groceries down carefully. "It's called being an adult."
Yunah flopped onto the couch, testing its springs. "What's for dinner? Or are we staring at each other until I faint?"
Haneul microwaved rice too aggressively. "Hope you like spicy. That's all I've got."
She appeared beside him, smelling faintly of fruit shampoo. Her arm brushed his as she grabbed chopsticks. "Tragic bachelor vibe's strong here."
"I wasn't expecting company," he said stiffly.
Yunah took the wooden spoon from him and stirred the noodles. Steam curled around her wrists. "Could've fooled me," she said, nodding at the six-pack. "Unless you drink alone which, honestly, fits."
* * *
Haneul prepared some instant ramyeon for the both of them then served it at his kitchen table for them to eat.
Yunah slurped the last noodle obnoxiously loud. She stretched, making her spine pop. "Not bad for sad uncle food."
Haneul stacked the bowls with precision. Her gaze followed his hands like he was a lab specimen.
After their meal, he led her to the spare room, really just storage for unsold glasses and old textbooks. Dust motes floated in the evening light. The folding mattress still had its plastic wrap from three years ago. A toppled box spilled scratched lenses onto the floor.
Yunah peered past his shoulder, breath warm on his ear. "Wow. Five-star treatment."
Haneul grabbed a crumpled flyer and wiped the dusty windowsill. The paper came away gray.
Yunah walked past Haneul, her feet leaving faint prints in the dust on the hardwood floor. She nudged the plastic-wrapped mattress with her toe. "Has anyone ever used this thing?"
Haneul rubbed his neck, feeling sweat under his collar. "I bought it for emergencies," he mumbled.
"Emergencies like 'oh shit, my niece is crashing my perfect bachelor pad'?" Yunah hooked a finger under the plastic wrap and yanked. It tore with a sharp crackle, releasing a stale factory smell.
Haneul left her alone to clean up the spare room, so he can wash the dishes.
Haneul scrubbed his ramyeon bowl under scalding water, focusing on the circular motions three clockwise, then counterclockwise. His therapist called it a coping mechanism. He called it cleaning. A stubborn noodle clung to the bowl until he flicked it off with his thumbnail.
He was drying his hands on the neatly folded dish towel when Yunah screamed, not a startled shriek, but a raw, panicked yell. He bolted down the hallway, skidding to a stop in the doorway.
Yunah stood frozen on the mattress, arms stiff at her sides. "Don't. Move." Her voice was high and tight. "It's on you."
Haneul blinked. "What!"
"SPIDER!" She pointed at his shoulder. He felt a tiny tickle against his collar.
Slowly, he turned his head. A tiny house spider, no bigger than a sesame seed, crawled on his shirt. Yunah made a choked noise, fingers digging into the plastic wrap.
"Seriously?" Haneul flicked the spider away. "That’s what scared you?" He smirked at Yunah, still frozen on the mattress. "What happened to being cool and unflappable?"
"Shut up and kill it," she hissed.
"Oh, now you want me to kill it?" Haneul crossed his arms. "Funny how your morals~"
Yunah launched herself at him before he could finish, slamming into his chest. Her arms locked around him like a vise, face buried against him. Her body pressed close, warm, soft, and suddenly very distracting.
Haneul’s breath caught. His hands hovered awkwardly near her waist. "Didn’t think my tough niece would be scared of a little spider."
Yunah lifted her head just enough to glare. "It had *legs*," she muttered, her breath warm against his collarbone. She smelled like ramyeon and something sweet, maybe lip balm. Her thigh brushed his hip, and Haneul became very aware of how close she was.
"Yeah, most spiders do," he said, but his voice was strained. His hands settled on her lower back, fingertips touching bare skin where her shirt had ridden up. Yunah didn’t pull away. If anything, she leaned in closer.
Haneul counted seconds in his head. Her warmth seeped through his shirt. Then he felt it, the slow, unmistakable tightening in his pants. He peeled her off with more force than intended. "Room’s not gonna clean itself," he muttered, turning away to hide his obvious problem.
Yunah blinked as Haneul moved suddenly. Her arms stayed half-raised, frozen mid-hug. "Wow. Tactful," she said flatly, but her voice shook just enough that Haneul couldn't look at her. He pretended to be busy opening a box of frames instead. The plastic wrapper crinkled loudly in the quiet room.
They worked without speaking. Haneul stacked boxes while Yunah struggled with the mattress wrapping. Every rustle of fabric or accidental elbow bump made his heart race. When they both reached for a dropped lens case at the same time, their hands touched her fingers warm against his palm. She didn't pull away right away. He noticed her biting her lip before she stood up, gripping the case tightly.
By the time they finished, sweat shone on Yunah's forehead. Her shirt stuck to her back. She fanned herself with her jacket sleeve. "Not bad for a storage closet," she said, tugging at her damp shirt. "Mind if I shower first? I feel disgusting."
Haneul focused on winding up the vacuum cord. "Go ahead," he muttered, his voice tight. His mind unhelpfully imagined Yunah under hot water, steam rising around her, he pulled the cord so hard it dug into his hands.
Yunah stopped in the doorway. "You okay?" she asked, head tilted. "You're rubbing your neck again."
Haneul dropped his hand like it burned. "Fine. Just..." He waved at the remaining mess. "Thinking where to put this stuff."
She nodded but didn't push. The bathroom door clicked shut. Seconds later, the shower turned on with a groan of pipes.
Haneul let out a long breath. This was bad. Really bad. He grabbed a box marked "FRAGILE" too roughly, making its contents rattle as he carried it out. The shower's steady rhythm seemed to mock him.
He was sorting frames by color when Yunah yelled from the bathroom: "Haneul? We have a problem."
The shower was still running. "What kind?" he called back, staring at the door.
"The showerhead exploded," she shouted over the water noise. A loud clang followed. "Now it's spraying everywhere!"
Haneul sighed. Of course this would happen. He knocked on the bathroom door. "How bad is it?"
Yunah laughed through the spray. "Bad enough that I need snorkeling gear."
He opened the door and froze. Water sprayed wildly across the room. The shower curtain hung half-off. Yunah stood completely naked under the water, skin glistening. His brain stopped working. Her body looked like art, small breasts with pink nipples, hips that curved perfectly, smooth skin between her legs.
"Sorry," Haneul choked out, grabbing a towel and shoving it toward her without looking. His ears burned. His pants felt too tight.
Yunah just took the towel calmly. "Relax," she said, wrapping it around herself. "It's just skin." She stepped aside as water continued blasting from the broken showerhead.
Haneul focused on wrenching the broken showerhead off. Water sprayed straight into his face, soaking his shirt. He fumbled under the sink for the spare.
"You're really bad at emergencies," Yunah commented, leaning against the sink. The towel clung to her wet body.
"Shut up," he muttered, installing the new showerhead. The water flow steadied. He wiped his face on his wet sleeve.
Yunah reached past him to test the water. "Better," she said. Then she smirked. "You can look, you know. I don't care."
Haneul swallowed hard. "That's not~"
"Appropriate?" Yunah let the towel slip slightly. "We're both adults."
He left before she could finish talking.
The living room was too quiet. Haneul paced, rubbing his wet hands through his hair. This was bad. Really bad. He needed to call Sooyoung. He needed to leave.
"Uncle, where are the towels?" Yunah's voice cut through the apartment, louder than the shower still running behind her. Haneul, still dripping from fixing the pipes, pushed a dry towel against the doorframe without looking. "On the hook," he said, his voice sharper than he meant.
The bathroom door opened. Steam poured out first, then Yunah barefoot, wet hair sticking to her shoulders, wearing just a towel tied loosely around her chest. It rode up high on her thighs, showing off her legs, water still shining on her skin. Haneul's breath caught.
She saw him looking and grinned, tilting her head just enough to make the towel slip lower. "I look good, don't I?"
Haneul's jaw tightened. *Too good.* The towel barely covered anything, clinging to every curve, wet where it pressed between her breasts. His pulse pounded. "You'll~" He swallowed. "You'll catch a cold."
"No I won't," Yunah laughed, spinning around so the towel flared open around her thighs. "Just look how hot I am." She leaned against the wall, one hand above her head while the other tugged the towel lower across her chest. The wet fabric stuck to every curve, her waist, her hips, the cleavage that made Haneul's mouth go dry.
Haneul stood so fast the couch groaned. He crossed the room in three steps, grabbing Yunah's bare shoulders to spin her toward the spare room. "Enough." His voice was rough. Yunah stumbled back with a laugh, her wet back hitting the doorframe as he pushed her inside.
"Wow, handsy much"
He slammed the door before she could finish.
The bathroom still smelled like her, sweet shampoo and something warmer underneath, clinging to the fogged mirror, the wet towels, the air itself. Haneul ripped off his soaked shirt, fabric catching on his watch before it hit the floor. His reflection glared back from the steamy glass, eyes dark, jaw clenched tight.
The shower turned on before he could think. Cold water hit first punishment but he barely felt it. Not with Yunah's shampoo in the steam, not when his hands slid lower over his stomach, fingers brushing the hard length straining against his pants. He shut his eyes, but the image burned brighter: Yunah's towel slipping, water between her breasts, that smirk as she dared him to look.
His hand closed around himself with a groan, the other braced against the tiles. The water turned hot, but he barely noticed every stroke pulled another memory forward. How her hips had pressed against his when she jumped into his arms. The heat of her skin under his hands. The noise she'd made when he grabbed her waist.
A sharp knock at the door shattered the moment. "Hey." Yunah's voice, muffled but smug. "You hogging all the hot water?"
Haneul froze. His breathing was ragged under the shower's noise. "Go away." The words came out strained.
Yunah laughed, low and throaty, vibrating through the door. "Make me." The knob jiggled once, and Haneul's whole body locked up. Steam curled around his fists, water running down his tense back.
He didn't trust himself to speak. Didn't trust himself to move. Not with Yunah's shampoo clinging to the shower walls, with her scent floral and warm skin wrapped around him like a second layer. His cock throbbed in his grip, aching.
The shower door rattled. "Seriously, you're gonna turn into a raisin in there." Yunah's voice was closer now, teasing. He could see her leaning against the fogged glass, that damn towel slipping lower with every shift.
He shut his eyes. "Yunah." A warning. A plea.
The shower door slid open before he could react steam billowing out as Yunah leaned in, her smirk widening when her eyes dropped. "Now where?" Her breath hitched as she saw him still gripping himself.
Haneul moved on instinct, grabbing the nearest towel, a tiny hand towel barely big enough as Yunah burst out laughing. She stumbled back so fast her feet squeaked, slamming the bathroom door hard enough to rattle the mirror. The lock clicked a second later.
Haneul stood there, dripping and exposed, his pulse hammering. The cold air raised goosebumps, but nothing cooled the heat in his gut. He stared at the door, half-expecting it to open again. Silence.
He tied the useless towel around his waist, fabric barely staying on. Water pooled at his feet as he listened for any sound beyond the door. Nothing but the apartment settling in the distance.
The hallway was silent as he passed Yunah's room, his damp hair dripping onto his clean shirt. He paused outside her door, listening. A muffled thump, maybe a pillow hitting the wall then the rustle of sheets. His hands clenched at his sides.
Haneul lay stiff on his bed, the ceiling fan ticking above him like a timer. He'd scrubbed himself raw in the shower, hot, then freezing but his skin still burned where Yunah had touched him. The sheets tangled around his legs as he rolled onto his stomach, grinding his erection into the mattress with a groan. *Fuck.* He was too old for this. Too controlled. He'd survived med school, built a business, kept a strict routine yet here he was, helpless against one stupid hard-on.
The AC rattled to life, blowing cold air over his neck. He tried to slow his pulse, to relax. Sleep. Just sleep. Tomorrow would fix this Yunah would dress normally, he'd regain control, and they'd never mention showers or spiders again.
A floorboard creaked outside.
Haneul froze. Footsteps paused at his door too quiet to be random, too purposeful to ignore. His fingers dug into the pillow as the doorknob turned slowly. The hinges groaned.
Moonlight spilled in, outlining Yunah in the doorway. She wore only an oversized t-shirt *his* t-shirt riding up to show her thighs. One hand braced against the frame, the other twisting a damp strand of hair. "Can't sleep," she said, like this was just a casual visit.
Haneul sighed into his pillow, muffling a groan. "What do you want?" His voice came out rough, tight from the sight of her. The moonlight caught her bare thigh as she shifted, the shirt hiking higher.
Yunah stepped in without waiting. "I told you," she said, fingers playing with the hem of *his* shirt. The fabric stretched across her chest, slipping off one shoulder. "Couldn't sleep." She said it like it explained everything like it was normal for her to be here at midnight, smelling like his soap, wearing his clothes.
Haneul sat up fast, sheets bunching at his waist. The tent in his sweatpants was obvious. Yunah's gaze dropped, lingered, then met his eyes with a smirk. "You're not subtle," she said, tilting her head. Moonlight glinted on her bitten lip.
He exhaled sharply, gripping the sheets. "Yunah. Go back to your room."
She stepped closer instead, the floorboard creaking. The shirt brushed her thighs as she moved. "Make me," she said, softer now.
The mattress dipped as she sat beside him, her bare thighs scorching through his sweatpants. She leaned in, not touching, just close her lips a breath from his ear. "You're thinking too loud," she whispered, her warmth sending a shiver down his spine.
Haneul clenched the sheets. "You should."
Yunah kissed him.
It wasn't gentle. She bit his lower lip, fingers twisting in his hair to pull his head back just right. Haneul groaned into her mouth, hands grabbing her waist then froze when his thumbs touched bare skin under her shirt. Yunah laughed against his lips, a low, triumphant sound as she pressed her hips against his thigh. "See?" she whispered, nipping his jaw. "Not so hard."
He'd meant to push her away. Really. But then her tongue pushed against his, hot and demanding, and his hands moved on their own up her shaking stomach, over her ribs until his fingers met the edge of her bra. Yunah arched into his touch with a gasp, nails digging into his shoulders through his shirt.
That gasp broke him.
Haneul flipped them over, pinning her wrists to the bed as he kissed her hard. Yunah twisted under him, her knee sliding up his hip in clear invitation. His hand moved up her thigh higher, higher until his fingers brushed the wet fabric between her legs.
Yunah went stiff.
Haneul jerked back so fast he almost fell off the bed. They stared at each other in the moonlight, breathing hard, lips swollen. Yunah's shirt had ridden up, showing the black lace edge of her panties he noticed stupid details like that now and the quick pulse in her throat.
She sat up slowly, hands shaking as she pulled her shirt down. "I should..." Her voice cracked. She didn't finish.
Haneul stared at the wall, fists clenched in the blanket. He could still taste her mint toothpaste and something just *her*. His cock throbbed.
Yunah stood on unsteady legs, pausing at the door. For a second, he thought she might turn back. Then she squared her shoulders and left without a word.
Her bedroom door clicked shut like a gunshot.
Haneul dragged his hands down his face. The sheets still smelled like her. He punched the pillow hard enough to leave a dent, then flopped onto his back to glare at the ceiling.
Down the hall, Yunah's bed creaked. Then silence.
He waited to feel regret. Shame. Anything but the ache in his pants. Instead, all he could think about was how she'd moved against him, the sound she'd made when he
Haneul cursed and yanked open the nightstand drawer. His hand closed around a half-empty bottle of lube he hadn't used in months.
The ceiling fan spun overhead as he jerked himself off in rough strokes. He bit his lip hard enough to taste blood, but it didn't drown out the memory of Yunah's moan when he'd bitten her neck.
He came hard, vision whiting out as his back arched off the bed. For one perfect second, his mind went blank.
Then reality returned.
Haneul lay there, sticky and disgusted, as dawn light crept into the room. The faucet turned on somewhere in the apartment. Yunah humming softly to herself.
He squeezed his eyes shut.
**Morning Coffee**
The espresso machine screeched at 6:47 AM. Haneul barely flinched; he was used to the sound by now.
Yunah sat on the kitchen counter, wearing his sweatshirt and shorts so short they barely existed. Her legs swung lazily as she watched coffee drip into her stolen mug.
"Morning, Uncle," she yawned, stretching. The sweatshirt rode up, showing a strip of skin. Haneul looked away fast.
"You're dressed already?" she asked, sipping straight from the mug.
"Shop opens early," he lied. He hadn’t slept just dozed off between flashes of memory: her teeth on his neck, his hands tangled in her
A drop of coffee rolled down Yunah’s throat. Haneul watched it disappear under fabric.
"You're staring," she said.
He jerked his head toward the door. "You’ve got..." He gestured at his own chin.
Yunah wiped the drop away with her thumb then licked it off with a smirk. "Better?"
---
**Late Afternoon**
The shop door chimed at 2:37 PM. Yunah blew in like a storm, backpack thumping against her legs.
"Sorry!" she said, tossing her bag onto a chair. "Professor wouldn’t shut up about death and suffering. Like, yeah, we know."
"You’re late," Haneul said automatically.
She rolled her eyes and vaulted over the counter skirt riding up to snatch the clipboard from his hands. "Who’s next? Grandma Kim?"
Somehow, Yunah charmed every client. By 3:45 PM, she’d restocked lenses and convinced Mrs. Park to buy blue-light filters ("Like armor against ex-boyfriend texts").
Haneul kept stealing glances, her focused frown, the way her ponytail swung as she moved.
At 4:12 PM, she yawned behind a stack of forms.
By 4:18, she was asleep on the exam room couch, one arm dangling off the edge.
Haneul stood in the doorway, watching. Her lips were still glossy. He could smell her strawberry lip balm.
For one reckless second, he imagined kissing her seeing if she tasted as sweet as she smelled.
Instead, he flicked her forehead.
"Ow! What " She bolted upright, almost hitting him. "Did I miss "
"Four-fifteen." He stepped back, hands behind him. "You promised me tteokbokki."
Yunah wrinkled her nose as she thought about it. Then she grinned, showing sharp teeth. "Damn right I did." She stretched, her shirt riding up to reveal her waist where her sweatshirt had bunched. "But you're buying the soju this time, old man."
The neon sign above the tteokbokki stall flickered weakly. Yunah bounced on her toes, breath visible in the cold evening air. "Extra spicy," she told the vendor with a wink. "Enough to kill a man twice my uncle's size." Haneul rolled his eyes but didn't correct her the old woman already knew his usual order. She'd known it since his university days when he'd stumble in after long shifts. Now she watched them curiously as she packed the rice cakes, hesitating slightly when handing change to Yunah.
Next was crispy chicken, the smell clinging to them as they walked through the crowd. Yunah balanced takeout boxes in one hand while texting with the other. Haneul caught a glimpse of her phone screen "Operation Corrupt Uncle" before she turned it away with a laugh.
"Convenience store stop," Yunah announced, darting into the bright GS25 without waiting. Haneul lingered by the magazines but watched her reflection in the security mirrors. She moved through the aisles with purpose, grabbing bottles of soju and beer. When she disappeared behind a snack display, Haneul stared at the ceiling for a full minute before following.
Near the register were condoms in colorful packaging. Yunah hesitated for just a second before grabbing the largest box. She tossed it into her basket under snacks, cheeks dimpling with suppressed laughter.
Haneul missed this entirely. He was too busy checking yogurt drink expiration dates. By the time he reached the counter, the condoms were buried under junk food. The cashier smirked as she scanned everything. Yunah tapped her card before Haneul could react.
Outside, Seoul's neon lights tinted Yunah's cheeks pink as she carried their bags. The plastic bags swung wildly with each step. "Race you home?" she challenged, already running ahead before he could answer. He watched her weave through the crowd, her sweatshirt riding up to show a strip of skin above her shorts that same teasing glimpse he'd been catching all day.
The apartment door clicked shut behind them. Haneul started unpacking groceries, lining up soju bottles precisely. Yunah flopped onto the kitchen floor, digging into the tteokbokki before he found chopsticks. "You'll ruin your appetite," he muttered automatically, reaching for the last bottle
His hand closed on something crinkly. The condom box slid out from under a bag of shrimp chips, its gold packaging loudly declaring "XXL." Haneul froze, brain short-circuiting as his thumb brushed the cartoon couple printed on the box.
Yunah stopped her chopsticks halfway to her mouth. A rice cake dangled from them. "Ohhh," she said, dragging out the word. "So that's why you were staring at the yogurt drinks." She grinned at his frozen expression. "Didn't think you were into magnums, Uncle."
The box landed on the counter with a plastic thud. Haneul's pulse pounded in his ears, drowning out Yunah's laughter. "This isn't " His voice cracked. He cleared his throat loudly. "You put this in the basket."
Yunah ate the rice cake slowly, swinging her legs under the table. "Might need them," she said with her mouth full, wiping sauce on his borrowed sweatshirt. "You never know."
Haneul almost touched his glasses, a nervous habit but stopped when Yunah noticed. He pressed his hand flat on the counter instead. "This isn't funny."
Yunah spun the chopsticks between her fingers. Red sauce dripped onto the table as she picked up another rice cake. She ate it slowly, making an exaggerated moan. "Mmm, so good," she murmured, licking sauce from her lip. Her tongue flicked out quickly. "Sure you're not hungry, Uncle?"
Haneul breathed out sharply. "I ate."
"Liar." Yunah leaned forward. The neckline of his sweatshirt slipped, showing her collarbones. She held out another piece. "Come on. Just one bite?"
Haneul stared at the saucy rice cake in her fingers. Something in her eyes a dare made his heart race. He leaned in slightly, lips parting but she pulled it away with a laugh.
"Oops," she said, eating it herself. Her lips closed slowly around the chopsticks. Her tongue caught a drop of sauce. "Too slow."
She smirked, twirling another rice cake. The red sauce glistened under the light. "Last chance, old man," she teased, holding it just out of reach. The chopsticks clicked like a ticking clock.
Haneul reached for the soju bottle slowly. He drank the shot in one go. The burn in his stomach felt like courage or maybe stupidity.
"Bold move," Yunah laughed. She leaned forward again, holding out the rice cake close to his lips. "But you're still "
Haneul grabbed her wrist suddenly, pulling her forward. The spicy smell filled the space between them. Yunah gasped as he bit the rice cake from her fingers. His tongue licked the sauce off her fingertips before he let go slowly.
The chopsticks fell onto the table with a clatter.
Haneul tightened his grip on Yunah's wrist not enough to hurt, but enough to make her pulse jump under his thumb. Her palm lay open, sticky red sauce smeared across her lifeline. He dragged his tongue from her wrist to her fingertip, slow and deliberate. The warmth of his mouth against her skin made Yunah's breath catch.
"Messy," he murmured against her knuckles. His glasses reflected the overhead light, hiding his eyes as he licked her index finger. His teeth grazed the pad just enough to make her flinch.
Yunah gripped his sweatshirt, his sweatshirt, not hers as he cleaned each finger with methodical precision. His tongue curled around her pinky, swirling at the joint before sucking gently. The contrast between his detached expression and the intimacy of the act sent heat pooling low in her stomach.
She jerked her hand back, dragging her sauce-coated palm across the table. A red streak gleamed on the laminate. "Oops," she said, voice higher than usual. "Made another mess."
Haneul leaned forward, glasses sliding down his nose. For a second, Yunah only saw her own flushed face reflected in the lenses. Then his hand closed around her wrist again, pulling her forward so sharply her knees hit the table.
His tongue wet and pink was already out when her fingers reached his mouth. He licked slowly from the base of her thumb to the webbing between her fingers. Yunah shuddered when his teeth grazed the sensitive skin there.
"Still messy," Haneul muttered against her knuckles. He took her index finger into his mouth up to the second knuckle, tongue swirling with obscene precision. The heat of his mouth clashed with the cold detachment in his eyes, still hidden behind those glasses.
His free hand dipped into the spilled tteokbokki sauce. Before Yunah could react, his thumb swiped across her bottom lip, smearing red from corner to corner. The spice tingled against her skin.
"Now we're even," he said, voice rough. His glasses caught the kitchen lights as he leaned in, nose almost touching hers. Yunah's pulse hammered where his hand pinned her wrist to the table.
His thumb traced her upper lip, slow and deliberate. Then his mouth covered hers.
Haneul tasted like soju and salt. His lips pressed against hers with steady pressure. Yunah gasped, caught between pushing him away and pulling him closer. His thumb stayed at the corner of her mouth, sticky with sauce.
The moment stretched until Haneul tilted his head, sealing their mouths together more firmly. His tongue flicked out, licking the sauce from her lips with slow strokes. Yunah made a soft noise when he sucked her lower lip between his teeth.
She plunged her fingers into the takeout container, coming up coated in thick red sauce. With two quick swipes, she painted streaks across his cheekbones like war paint.
"Payback," she murmured, leaning in before he could wipe it away. Her tongue lapped up the sauce from his jawline to his temple with exaggerated slurps. Haneul's breath hitched when her teeth grazed the spot beneath his ear.
"Missed a spot," she lied, dabbing more sauce onto his chin. Haneul caught her wrist mid-air. They stared, glasses askew, lips swollen until Yunah twisted free with a laugh and plunged her hand back into the container.
"Your turn," she whispered, watching his throat bob as he swallowed hard. In one swift motion, she dragged her sauce-coated palm across his collarbones, leaving red streaks on his white dress shirt. The fabric darkened instantly where the sauce soaked through.
She didn't wait for a reaction. Her fingers traced downward, popping a button loose. Haneul's breath hitched as her tongue followed the path her fingers had taken, lapping up the mess with slow swipes. The heat of her mouth burned hotter than the spices.
She paused beneath his jaw, exhaling sharply before biting down not hard enough to mark, but enough to make his fingers dig into her hips. Pulling back with red-glazed lips, she smirked. "Too slow again."
With another swipe of sauce across his forehead, she leaned in to clean it up. Her tongue dragged from the bridge of his nose to his hairline. Haneul's hands tightened on her waist.
"You're insufferable," he muttered, voice rougher than before. Yunah just grinned and flicked her tongue against the tip of his nose. She grabbed the nearly empty tteokbokki container, swirling the remnants with her fingers.
With a sharp flick, she upended it over her own collarbones. Thick red sauce oozed down her chest beneath the neckline of his sweatshirt. Haneul's breath caught as she tilted her chin up.
"Oops," she murmured, plucking at the damp fabric sticking to her skin. "Guess you'll have to clean it properly now, right?"
Sauce dripped onto the floor between them. Haneul's gaze tracked a bead sliding down her throat before vanishing beneath the sweatshirt's edge. His fingers twitched at his sides.
Yunah arched a brow, shifting to make the fabric pull tighter across her chest. "What's wrong, Uncle?" she teased, dragging a fingertip through the mess on her collarbone and sucking it clean with a pop. "Lost your appetite?"
Haneul drained the last of the soju bottle, his throat working around the burning sip. Glass clinked against the table as he set it down too hard. Across from him, Yunah's breath hitched not from the alcohol, but from the way his gaze traced her sauce-streaked sweatshirt.
"Naughty," he murmured, voice rough-edged from liquor. His fingers curled into the damp fabric at her collar, knuckles brushing her sticky skin beneath. "You planned this."
Yunah laughed shakily as he tugged the sweatshirt upward. Cool air prickled across her stomach, then her ribs then all at once, the sweatshirt was off and discarded behind him. The kitchen light was too bright, highlighting every smear of sauce on her bare shoulders and chest.
Haneul's thumb traced a stripe of sauce along her collarbone, slow enough to feel her shiver. "Mess," he muttered, lowering his head. His tongue was hotter than the spices, dragging a wet stripe from her throat to her shoulder. Yunah gasped when his teeth grazed the same spot pressure without breaking skin. Yet.
His hands bracketed her waist as he worked downward, lapping up every droplet with deliberate thoroughness. The contrast was obscene, his methodical movements versus Yunah's hitched breaths, her fingers twisting in his hair when he paused above her left breast.
Haneul grabbed the last soju bottle, tipping it back sharply. The alcohol burned less this time his throat already numb. He set the bottle down with a clatter and hooked his fingers into the hem of her damp camisole.
"You're really naughty, aren't you?" His voice was gravel-rough. Yunah's breath stuttered as he pulled the camisole upward in one fluid motion. The sauce had pooled between her breasts, trickling down her sternum.
Haneul's tongue followed the thickest trail starting at the hollow of her throat, dragging downward with slow swipes. Yunah arched off the chair when he reached the skin above her left nipple, gasping as he circled the sticky mess without touching the peak beneath.
Her nails scraped his scalp when he repeated the motion on the other side. Haneul exhaled through his nose, breath hot against damp skin, before finally closing his lips around one taut bud. Yunah's hips jerked against nothing, a whine catching in her throat as he sucked just hard enough to make her back bow.
He switched sides without warning, tongue flicking with clinical precision. The contrast was maddening his detached expression versus the wet sounds filling the kitchen every time his mouth pulled away with a soft pop.
Yunah tangled her fingers in his hair, trying to guide him back, but Haneul grabbed the last soju bottle instead. Liquid sloshed as he drank deeply, then set the empty bottle down with a clatter.
"You're really naughty, aren't you Yunah?" he rasped before leaning in again. This time his mouth closed over her left nipple with none of his earlier restraint sucking hard enough to make her gasp, tongue swirling in tight circles that arched her back off the chair. The remaining sauce smeared between them as he worked downward, lips leaving a glistening trail along her sternum.
Yunah whimpered when his teeth grazed her ribcage, the sting fading into heat as his tongue soothed the spot. Her breath hitched as he reached her navel, thumbs hooking into her shorts while his mouth worked at her bellybutton. Sauce pooled here too, thick and sticky, and Haneul cleaned it with the same methodical attention tongue pressing flat before swirling in slow circles.
"Uncle " The honorific slipped out breathy as his fingers flexed against her hips. Haneul responded by biting just shy of painful at the soft skin beside her navel. Yunah's legs jerked involuntarily at the hot breath against the mark.
She tangled her fingers in his hair, yanking him upward until their lips crashed together messy, her teeth catching his lower lip with enough force to make him hiss. She swallowed the sound, tongue sliding against his with reckless energy. When she finally pulled back, breath came in quick puffs against his spit-slicked mouth.
"Aren't we being too hasty?" she murmured, hips arching against his thigh where it pressed between her legs.
Haneul blinked, sauce still smeared across his cheekbones, glasses fogged beyond usefulness. His hands flexed against her waist half pushing, half pulling before settling on a rough shake. "You started this," he ground out, voice rougher than the soju burn in his throat.
Yunah laughed bright and artificial as her nails scratched down his chest to pop another button. "Started?" Her knee bumped his groin deliberately, reveling in his hitched breath. "You're the one who licked sauce off my fingers like a starving man." She kissed him again, slower this time, tongue tracing his lips until he groaned and let her in.
Haneul lifted her onto the edge of the table with one fluid motion, takeout containers scattering across the floor. His glasses knocked askew, but he didn't adjust them not when Yunah's thighs were already parting around his waist, not when her breath hitched against his mouth as he leaned in again. Their lips met with none of the earlier hesitation, his tongue sliding against hers with a hunger that tasted like chili paste and soju and something far more dangerous.
The table creaked under their weight as Haneul pushed Yunah back. His hands slid up her ribs, pinning her shoulders to the laminate surface. When his mouth left hers, it trailed downward nipping at her neck, licking her collarbones, stopping to leave a mark above her bra. Yunah gripped the table's edge when he ignored her breasts entirely, focusing instead on the space between them with agonizing slowness. Every touch sent sparks through her, her nipples hardening under the fabric despite his avoidance.
She gasped when his teeth scraped her waistband, his breath hot through her cotton shorts. Haneul hooked his thumbs under the elastic, dragging them down just enough to reveal the damp patch on her black lace panties. His exhale against the wet fabric made her hips jerk up. He nosed along the soaked seam without touching where she needed him most.
"Look at you," he murmured against her thigh, his glasses pressing cold against her skin. His tongue traced where her leg met hip, slow and teasing. When he finally dragged his tongue over her clothed clit, Yunah arched so sharply her shoulders lifted off the table.
Haneul chuckled, gripping her hips to hold her down. "Patience," he said, though his own control was slipping, his fingers dug into her flesh, his pulse raced under her hands. He mouthed at her through the lace again, slower now, his nose bumping her clit as he breathed her in. The fabric grew wetter with each pass of his tongue, the lace clinging in ways that made her toes curl.
She pressed against his mouth, but he pulled back just enough to tease. His breath ghosted over her shorts warm where his tongue had been cold. Yunah whined, hips twitching, only for Haneul to press a finger against the damp fabric, rubbing slow circles that made her thighs shake.
"You're dripping," he said, voice thick. His finger trailed down, hooking into her waistband. Yunah held her breath as he peeled the fabric away, revealing flushed skin and the thick scent of her arousal.
Haneul exhaled sharply at the sight. His fingers traced her thigh, close but not close enough. "Look at you," he muttered, dragging a fingertip through her wetness. "So messy."
Yunah gasped when he licked his fingers clean, his tongue precise as he tasted her. His dark eyes never left hers behind his crooked glasses.
Her hands flew down instinctively, trying to cover herself as if she hadn't been the one dripping moments before. Haneul caught her wrist, thumb pressing into her bones as he dragged her hand up. His tongue licked the sticky tteokbokki sauce from her fingers with slow strokes.
"Ah " The sound escaped when his teeth grazed her fingertip. By the time he reached her pinky, her attempts at modesty weakened her free hand hovering uncertainly above herself.
Haneul released her wrist only to capture her other hand, repeating the torture while watching her flushed face. Yunah whimpered when he bit her ring finger lightly, her hips jerking as he soothed it with his tongue. The dual sensations, his mouth on her hands, the cool air on her dampness drove her to the edge before he'd even touched her properly.
When he finally let go of her hands, her arms fell limp. His tongue licked a broad stripe up her inner thigh just shy of where she needed him. Yunah's back arched off the table, a strangled noise catching in her throat as his nose bumped her slick folds. Her hands tangled in his hair, trying to guide him closer.
Haneul resisted for three agonizing seconds before giving in. His tongue dragged upward in one slow, wet stroke that made her heels dig into his shoulders. The second pass was more focused tracing her slit before circling her clit with precision. Yunah's thighs clamped around his head as he settled into a rhythm, broad strokes alternating with tight circles that had her seeing stars.
Her hands pressed against his forehead as if to push him away, but he didn't stop. Instead, his lips sealed around her clit with sudden suction. She barely had time to gasp before he dragged her forward until she was half-off the table, her back arching dangerously.
Her fingers twisted in his hair, gripping tight as his tongue flicked faster relentless. The pressure built until her hips jerked sharply, her body locking tight as a cry tore from her throat. Wave after wave of heat flooded her, her fingers pulling strands from his scalp as she rode it out.
When she collapsed boneless against the table, Haneul pulled back to survey the mess he'd made her thighs quivering, her cunt glistening. His glasses were askew, lips swollen and slick as he wiped his mouth.
His kiss tasted like her sharp and musky as he sealed their mouths together without warning. Yunah gasped against his lips, hands fluttering weakly when his tongue swept forward to share her climax.
"Swallow," he murmured against her lips, thumb pressing against her throat as she obeyed. The intimacy of it sent another shudder through her.
She clung to him like a drowning woman, arms locked around his neck. His whisper grazed her ear low and rough. "Ready for the real thing?"
Yunah shook her head violently, damp bangs sticking to his throat. Haneul froze, hands hovering over her waistband where her shorts hung askew.
Instead, he scooped her up one arm beneath her knees, the other supporting her bare back. Yunah curled into his chest as he carried her to the bathroom.
The steam fogged the mirror quickly. Haneul's hands moved differently, now softer, slower as he washed her hair, fingertips massaging her scalp with a gentleness that made her eyelids flutter. She leaned back against his chest, the steady thump of his heartbeat grounding her.
When she turned in the confined space, reaching for the soap, it slipped from her fingers whether from steam or the way he was looking at her, she wasn't sure. He caught it effortlessly, his palm covering hers as they both reached down. Their laughter mingled with the spray as he guided her hand in slow circles across his chest.
Their kiss this time had no excuses, just the warm press of lips that fit together better than they should. His arms encircled her waist, lifting her slightly so she could feel the length of him against her stomach without urgency.
They dried each other with the same care, Haneul blotting water from behind her ears, Yunah standing on the toilet lid to reach his shoulders. The silence between them grew comfortable, broken only by the drip of the showerhead.
When he lowered her onto his bed, her damp hair fanned across his pillow like spilled ink. Yunah curled onto her side, knees drawing up as if to preserve the warmth. His fingers lingered on the hem of her his shirt, adjusting it to cover the strip of exposed skin at her waist before turning toward the door.
"Uncle."
Yunah's voice stopped him mid-step. Soft, but heavy. He turned. She was propped on one elbow, the other hand clutching the sheets. Moonlight striped her face through the blinds, showing exhaustion mixed with determination.
"Next time," she said, thumb rubbing the fabric absently, "we'll do it properly." Not a question. A statement that hung in the air like the citrus shampoo scent still on their skin.
Haneul exhaled slowly through his nose. He nodded once sharp and quick then walked to the kitchen. Fluorescent light hummed over the mess: takeout containers, overturned soju bottles, sauce smears. He cleaned methodically stacking boxes, wiping the fridge, scrubbing the stain where Yunah had pressed against the table edge. The sponge grew sticky. He threw it in the sink harder than needed.
His reflection in the dark window looked unfamiliar damp hair, swollen lips. He adjusted his glasses and turned away.
The bedroom door creaked when he opened it. Yunah hadn't moved, curled under the thin sheet, one arm tucked under her cheek. The bed was narrow. The thought of lying beside her now made his chest tighten.
He slid in carefully. His shampoo still clung to her hair when she shifted slightly. Her breathing was uneven.
"Good night, my Yunah," he said before he could stop himself. The words felt too intimate for what they'd just done. She didn't pull away. Instead, she curled closer, her breath hitching against his collarbone.
He took off his glasses. They clicked softly on the nightstand. Then his arm settled over her waist, not pulling her closer, just resting there. His fingertips brushed his own shirt that she wore. Yunah arched slightly under his touch before going still.
"Good night, Haneul," she murmured into his chest. Her fingers curled lightly around his forearm. Her pinky brushed the vein on his wrist too deliberate to be accidental.
---
Yunah woke to the smell of burnt garlic and the clatter of pans. The unfamiliar ceiling had cracks spreading like frozen lightning. Haneul's side of the bed was empty, just a wrinkle where his glasses had pressed into the pillow.
She walked barefoot toward the kitchen light. Haneul's shirt hung to her thighs. She paused in the doorway. His shoulders were tense as he flipped an omelet with quick wrist flicks. His dress shirt from yesterday was wrinkled but clean.
"You burn the first one," she said, voice rough from sleep. She nodded at the blackened scrap on a chipped plate.
Haneul didn't turn. His knife tapped the cutting board, dicing scallions into neat rings. "I don't cook often." A lie. He'd been cleaning since dawn.
Yunah stepped closer. "Smells like you do." She swiped a drop of sesame oil from the counter and licked it off her finger before he could react.
The rice cooker beeped. Haneul reached past her for bowls, letting his sleeve brush her collarbone. Yunah caught his wrist. Her thumb pressed his pulse point.
"You left." Simple fact.
Haneul stared at the half-burnt omelet between them. Yunah snatched the better portion with a grin. Morning light striped her collarbones still pink from yesterday's shower.
"You should burn food more often," she said, licking rice off her thumb. "Makes you less terrifying." Her smile caught the light, making Haneul grip his chopsticks tighter before forcing himself to relax.
---
Breakfast became their routine, burnt omelets, stolen bites, Haneul's rolled-up sleeves, Yunah swinging her bare feet under the table. The first time she kissed his cheek on her way out, he stood frozen long after she'd left, fingers touching where her lips had been.
By Saturday, tension had eased. Yunah appeared at his clinic at noon. "I'm helping today," she announced, plopping onto the stool before he could object.
The afternoon flowed strangely, Yunah laughing with elderly patients, brushing his hand when passing lens cases, leaning close to peer at charts she couldn't understand. When a patient mistook them for a couple, Yunah grinned. "He wishes." Haneul's ears burned behind his glasses.
By closing, Yunah had rearranged the reading glasses by color ("Feng shui," she insisted) and sold three pairs of blue-light lenses. Haneul caught himself watching the strip of skin between her borrowed shirt and shorts when she bent to reorganize shelves.
That night, Yunah sprawled on his couch, feet on the armrest, scrolling her phone. Haneul paused in the bedroom doorway towel around his hips and saw her gaze flick up to track water droplets down his chest. Neither mentioned it when he retreated to dress more fully.
The apartment settled into an uneasy silence. Yunah hummed softly as she texted. Haneul tapped away at his laptop, inputting sales data. Eventually, Yunah slipped into the shower. She came out wearing his oversized t-shirt, damp hair clinging to her back. The hem rode up when she stretched, revealing the dimples above her thighs.
Haneul pretended not to watch as she lingered near his bedroom door before heading to the guest room. Her door clicked shut too loud. He lay staring at the ceiling, tracing cracks until they blurred. The apartment was too quiet. No creaks, no rustling sheets. Just the fridge humming and the drip of the leaky faucet he kept forgetting to fix.
Then footsteps. Fabric whispering against wood. His door creaked open. Yunah slipped inside, backlit by streetlight through the blinds. She moved silently across the floor.
Haneul held his breath as the mattress dipped under her weight. She smelled like his shampoo citrus and something medicinal. She crawled over him, knees bracketing his hips. For a moment, she just hovered. Then she kissed him. It tasted like toothpaste and sleep.
This wasn’t like their quick pecks over breakfast. It was slow. Deliberate. Yunah’s fingers curled into his shirt as she deepened the kiss. Haneul’s hands found her waist. His thumbs brushed bare skin where her shirt had ridden up.
He rolled them over, pinning her beneath him. Her gasp vanished into his mouth as his hands slid under her shirt. Fabric tore when he yanked it up. Yunah arched against him as cool air hit her skin. His teeth grazed her lip in warning.
"Don’t move," he murmured against her throat. His hands traced her waist, her hips. He hooked his thumbs into her shorts, dragging them down slowly until she kicked them off impatiently.
Haneul exhaled against her chest, tracing the lace of her bra with his nose. He undid the clasp easily. The fabric fell away. He just stared for a moment, watching streetlight paint stripes across her skin.
When his tongue flicked over her nipple, Yunah arched off the bed with a whimper. He smiled against her skin before sealing his mouth around her breast. Her nails dug into his shoulders as he alternated between gentle licks and sharp bites.
Yunah’s fingers tangled in his hair as his mouth moved lower. His teeth scraped the skin below her navel. She undid her bra and tossed it aside. It landed on the lampshade, dangling like a defeated flag.
"Here," she breathed, pushing his head down. His stubble brushed her inner thigh, making her twitch. He kissed the crease of her hip, tongue tracing blue veins beneath her skin. When she tried to grind against him, he pinned her hips with sudden force.
His exhale ghosted over her folds. Then his tongue dragged a slow stripe from perineum to clit. Yunah shuddered. Haneul’s grip softened as she bucked against his mouth. He lapped at her with broad strokes, tasting her salt and something darker, uniquely Yunah.
Her thighs trembled against his ears as he focused on her clit. She clawed the sheets, chanting his name in broken syllables. Just as she got close, he pulled back, blowing cool air across her wet flesh. Yunah whimpered in frustration.
"Patience," Haneul murmured against Yunah's thigh. His breath was hot on her damp skin. She was already wet, her panties clinging to her hips. The lace was soaked where his tongue had been moments before.
Yunah gripped the sheets, her knuckles white. Her chest rose fast. The cool air made her nipples hard. Haneul hooked his thumbs into her waistband. He dragged her panties down slowly too slowly. The elastic caught on her hipbone. She lifted her hips impatiently, but he paused. The lace snapped back against her skin.
She whined. He rewarded her with one fingertip tracing her slit light, teasing. "Still so eager," he said before licking her wetness off his finger.
Yunah arched off the bed with a growl. She kicked her panties away. They landed in the corner. Haneul nuzzled between her legs, breathing her in. Then he licked her in one slow stroke. Her thighs clamped around his head.
He didn't tease this time. His tongue moved with purpose broad strokes, tight circles. One hand pressed against her perineum. The other gripped her hip, thumb stroking the crease where thigh met pelvis.
Her breathing fractured into gasps. When her thighs trembled on the edge, he sucked hard on her clit. She came silently, back bowing off the bed. He gentled his touch as she rode the waves.
Haneul wiped his mouth and crawled up her body. His sweatpants strained against his erection. Yunah reached for his waistband, but he pinned her wrist above her head. "Not yet," he said roughly.
He rolled onto his back, casual. Yunah stared at the bulge in his sweats. She grinned and traced a finger down his chest. "Ohhh," she breathed. "So that's how it is."
Her lips brushed the fabric. Then she yanked his sweats down in one swift motion. Cool air hit him. He groaned.
She laughed, then inhaled sharply at the sight of him hard, veins standing out. "Pretty," she murmured, blowing lightly on the tip. "All worked up just from eating me out?"
Haneul fisted her hair as she took him into her mouth. She hummed, the vibration making him jerk. When he tried to thrust, her teeth grazed him in warning. She worked him slow hollowing her cheeks, swirling her tongue.
"Where," he gritted out, "did you learn this?"
She pulled off with a pop. "Internet tutorials," she said, smirking. "And a very enthusiastic senior during orientation week."
Then she took him deep again, throat fluttering. His vision whited out. She alternated suction with languid strokes, hand twisting in rhythm. When she pressed fingers against his perineum, he saw stars.
She pulled off as he neared the edge. "Close?" she asked innocently, thumbing away precum before sucking it clean.
He nodded sharply. She grinned and went back to work. This time she focused on the head sucking hard while her hand twisted his shaft. When she pressed her thumb under the tip and hummed, he came with a groan.
She swallowed, then licked him clean. Crawling up his body, she kissed him softly a stark contrast to what she'd just done.
Haneul held her close, tracing patterns on her back. The streetlight cast shadows across the sheets.
"You're..." he began, voice rough.
Yunah nipped his collarbone. "I know," she murmured, no teasing, just certainty.
He dragged her toward the edge of the bed. His erection brushed her thigh. She gasped when he angled toward her entrance.
"Wait " Her hands pressed against his chest. "Haneul, I've never... Not like this."
He stilled. "You're serious," he murmured.
She nodded, biting her lip.
Haneul shifted back, giving her space. "We stop whenever you say," he said gently, kissing her temple.
She relaxed as his fingers returned to her entrance, circling slowly. When she arched into his touch, he pressed inside inch by inch.
She gasped at the stretch. He stilled when he met resistance, whispering encouragement. As she relaxed, he rocked forward slowly, swallowing her whimper with a kiss.
The fullness burned until his thumb found her clit. Pleasure sparked through the discomfort. By the time he was fully seated, her thighs trembled around his hips.
He waited until she loosened her grip on his shoulders. Then he moved slowly at first, then angling to hit the spot that made her moan.
When she came, clenching around him, he held her through it. Only then did he let go, thrusts turning erratic as he chased his own release.
Afterward, Yunah traced his ear softly. "Still think I'm terrifying?" he mumbled against her collarbone.
"Terrifyingly good," she corrected, kissing him. Then she grinned. "You know you came inside, right?"
He tensed, realizing no condom.
She laughed. "You'll have to take responsibility," she sing-songed, pressing against him.
"Always, Yunah," he said roughly, arms tightening around her. "Always."
“Are you sure about this? This seems so…extra.” You muttered as you watched Liz, your girlfriend, while she set up the room.
She hums, “Relax and let the genius developer do her work~."
Cameras are placed around the room. One right in the middle on the ceiling. Four at each of the corners of the ceiling. Another four in the middle of each of the room’s four walls. Another four at each of the corners. And one more on each of your faces, nested right between your noses.
“Are you sure this is going to work? I know I'm the Quality Assurance specialist, but really? You're going to use this for our long awaited sex session after 2 months of working on your fifth prototype?”
“Plus, please make sure that whatever goes into that camera doesn't leak. Otherwise the whole company is gonna know you and I are in a relationship.”
“Or that I'm also not supposed to know about this Project Perspective or what since its “top-secret” like what you told me - you shouldn't even have told me!!! What if I accidently let it out? I don't want any of us to be hurt.”
Panic starts to overwhelm you as you begin to imagine the worst case scenarios.
“Gosh you're such a god damn worrywart. Stop babbling, you cutie.” She squeezes both of your cheeks as she goes on to explain further. “Now, there's going to be a high possibility of disorientation and confusion so I would like you to trust and listen to every one of my instructions. I know you will, since you're my good boy right?”
You can only blush and nod at her words as you already feel yourself getting excited at the thought of uniting your body with hers once again after her absence due to the damn “top-secret” project.
“Plus, look, you're already so god damn hard~” She whispers in your left ear as she rubs your dick through your pants.
“Now, each camera is linked to each of our VR glasses, offering live streaming of exactly what's going on in the room. The different perspectives may result in movement coordination confusion, but it makes the expected movements unexpected, triggering more sensitivity.” She rambles as she begins to strip her clothes, beginning with her top, exposing her handful of breasts nested in a lacy black bra. “I'm going to be collecting some data throughout, so just ignore what I'm doing if you see any weird movements~”
Your mind can barely register whatever mumbo jumbo manuscript she's reciting as you can only focus and gulp on the exposure of her tight, slender body.
“Hey! Earth to you! Gosh, I guess you are just awestruck by me again? Even though you've seen this sexy body numerous times. You strip too baby~” She chuckles as she strips down every single piece of cloth.
You can just barely manage a nod as you fumble with your clothes. The blonde beauty assists you with your pants as she unbuckles your belt and pulls your pants down together with your boxers, causing your dick, already hard as a rock to snap upwards and hit her specs, eliciting a gleeful moan from her.
She passes you your set of glasses and teaches you how to switch it on. It takes a moment to start up and she starts re-explaining the risks and safety concerns once again.
There it is. In a flash, you see what you always see in your eyes in the glasses’ background, as though you were really wearing glasses. Then the multiple other cameras’ content started appearing around the edges of the glasses screen. Though a little small, they were still clear.
She fumbles with her set of glasses and switches it on. Mumbling to herself, she waves her arms about and poses her body in a model-like pose, totally naked. Turning around to pose for each camera, you hear her adjusting something on her set of glasses.
And there it is again. The calm, focused demeanor that drew and attracted you to Liz, where everyone except you shunned. You could only stand there like a dumb kid admiring his dream toy through the store's display glass. Except she's yours.
“Hmm~ I’ll need to adjust the latency, it seems like there is a 0.02 ms difference between the actual movement and what is seen on the screen… Thhhhheere we go, adjusted~ perfectly in sync now!” Immediately, the slight lag that you observe is gone and everything moves as though there wasn't any delay at all.
You just continued staring at her while she made more adjustments. Looking at your unfocused look, she gave up and just grabbed your dick, giving it a few hard jerks. “Guess you’ve really fallen hard for me huh? Get ready, because I'm going to give you your reward for being such a good booooy~ Remember, throughout this, you're not allowed to touch me at all, just trust me.
She lowers herself down till she's facing your dick. Your head automatically lowers and your eyes focus on her doe like eyes. She pools saliva in her mouth and spits it on your tip. Right before her spit could drip down your tip, she inches her pouty lips and kisses the tip. You shiver. She pushes further. Your tip parts her lips. Then she starts. Quick. Fast. Sloppy. No warm up. You moan. So wet, hot, and sloppy. Her mouth feels like heaven. The slurping sounds she makes as she twirls her long oral muscle around your shaft, spreading and using her saliva as lube sounds so erotic.
Your eyes. The cameras. You had to give yourself some time getting used to it. And even then, it is still difficult. Relying on the background main display, it was easy to navigate and move oneself. The only thing right now that was affecting your focus was the god damn woman below you. Each pump of her head on your dick sends alarms to your brain’s pleasure centre. Your eyes shake and water as your breaths begin to shorten into raspy breaths.
Then, darkness. Liz triggers the main display to blackout, leaving only the live-feed of the cameras to be the ones remaining. What the hell? She didn't mention this earlier. Or maybe you were just entranced by her and didn't catch it.
The effect is instant. Disorientation. Your mind spins. Uncertainty on which view to focus on. You move your arms to the left, but you see it moving to the right in another camera. You see her grab your left ball, but wait, you feel your right ball caressed instead. It's weird. But it's exciting. It's like getting a surprise one after another. Her assault on your dick never stops. Her neck pumps like a piston as she gets sloppier and dirtier. Slurps turn into gags as gawking sounds echo the room.
Your senses are on overload. You're anticipating touches here, but it's happening there. Nerves get ready for the point of contact, but it never comes. You're violated in other places. You've experienced blindfold sex before, but that's different. You don't know when and what's coming. It's a sense of loss, but kind of not as well. To put it in sexual terms, this is a sense of “blueballing”, but it's on every inch of your body.
You want to grab her head and slow her down, but you remember her warning and clench your fists at the side instead.
You focus on the left side camera. A shiny stream of drool is leaking down from her mouth to her chin, extending halfway between her chin and the ground, swinging like a pendulum as she bobs and pumps her throat on your dick.
You look at the screen that’s focusing on her back view. She's rubbing her clit with her free hand and the ground has a wet puddle, with drops adding to the reservoir beneath her. You tilt your pupils slightly up and look at your glistening body, your mouth opened wide as you gasp for air. Fuck. You're at her mercy.
You’re moaning non stop. You feel her grab your shaft's base tightly and pump it quickly. You struggle to focus on one particular camera as you just hear a single word that sends you bursting.
“Cum.”
You cross the edge. You ready yourself for her continued throating and pumping of your seed down her throat. But she stops. Pulls you out of her mouth. You groan as she lets your milk drip and flow out from your tip. Right in a stream into her mouth.
Orgasm ruined. But you're hard as ever.
She toggles the main display on both of your glasses back on. You see her smirk as she licks her lips, savouring your creamy sauce. You're panting. Speechless. The disorientation due to the added perspectives made it as intense as an actual orgasm. But you're still hard, orgasm ruined. Balls still swollen.
“Get ready baby boy, because these are the last few moments where you will have your sight back. It’s for safety purposes baby~ Because I'm going to fuck the milk out of you.”
She pushes you onto the bed. A pillow under your neck. Three more firm pillows underneath your groin. Your groin is elevated, body arched. Still weak from the ruined orgasm, your body is a ragdoll at her mercy.
Metal cuffs at the side. Grabbed.
clink
One arm restrained. The other next. Two more clinks and your ankles are restrained too. You look at the side camera. Your hips are elevated so high that it makes your dick protrude out even more. You're bent, like a flag stuck on a mountain.
click
Your main sight goes black once again. She triggers another button. Each camera screen is enlarged, just like how a security room’s monitoring screen would look like.
You see her moving to your right and you turn your head to the right. But wait, it's your left. Your mind is messed up, confused. Panic unknowingly creeps over your chest as you feel like you're in Inception.
Sensing your panic, Liz palms your left cheek, wait no, your right cheek.
She whispers in a raspy voice, “Baby, don't worry. Just enjoy.”
You see her climb onto the bed and straddle your elevated groin from the side view camera. With your rock hard dick at full mast, she doesn't even need to touch and position it. Hovering above the tip, and down she goes. Right to the hilt. Both of you moan in unison.
She grinds and rides. Bending and grinding her hips in wave-like motions, you both feel every angle of your shaft prodding every inch of her warm, tight, drenched cavern. You wonder if this is the reason why she always wants to go on the “Crazy Bull” ride whenever you go on amusement park dates. Not that you're complaining, because with the way she's riding you, if she lost her job one day, she could be a professional bull rider entertaining in the circus.
“Gosh baby, you dick is so deep in me when you're tied and your body is arched like this.”
She's riding you as though she's riding a horse with a saddle, legs bent in a right angle as she grabs on to your waist for support.
Top ceiling camera. Everytime she grinds her hips upwards, you see the bulge forming on her belly. You're a magician. Making that bulge appear and disappear. And audiences like quick and lightning fast magic tricks. She rides you faster, harder. The formation of bulges becomes rapid. Her moans follow the same pattern. With every grind of her hips, you could feel the textures of her walls. You swear that you would be able to map out her entire vaginal structure by the end of this.
Then it happens. The screen lagged. Your kinesthetic and auditory senses went haywire. You feel her wet and soaked pussy pushing down on you. The image hasn't caught up, and it was late by about a few milliseconds. However, that was enough. You saw her ass clapping down on you. But you already feel her pussy sliding upwards. Your eyes darted to the front camera but it depicted her slamming down. It was like hearing your echo reverberate as you shout in a cave, but you are constantly shouting just a slight second later.
Your mind is fucked. Disconnected. She goes up and your eyes see her going down. Then she slams down on you but the display shows her lifting her hips up again. You're panting, drooling. She's moaning, leaking.
The lag sends your mind into a frenzy as it tries to figure out which sense to take into priority. It gives you the drug-like experience of feeling both the pushing and pulling motion of your dick in her tight pussy at the same time.
“Li-Liz-ya, what-what’s mmph happening to m-me. Fuck mmph I-I can't th-think mmph straight.” You moan with your tongue sticking out due to the sensorial overload and confusion. That said, your body does not betray your mind. Your dick throbs even harder as your back automatically lifts itself slightly as you clench your toes due to the added sensitivity. Your mind is reeling while she pounds you to hell.
Liz frowns at your state while she tries to figure out the issue. “Seems like the connection is not stable and there needs to be extra attention paid to maintain the latency between the data packets sent and the visual feedback.” She mumbles as she continues to lift and slam her squelching cunt.
“B-baby pl-ple I-I-I fuck pl-please. I don’t kn-know what I-I’m pleading fo-fuck for. B-but it feels sooo gooood.” It appears as if you were begging just for the sake of begging as your mind was sent over the edge.
Just as your mind was about to get used to the lag, Liz fumbled with her glasses to adjust and try to fix the issue, all while continuing to ride and bounce on you.
“Fuck baby, you feel so god damn good in me. But…. here we go, issue fixed!”
You thought it would liberate you, but that fix fucked your slowly adjusting mind once again. The glasses/camera resync was fixed, but now your adjusted mind needed to resync and this sent you into another frenzy.
At this point, you moan, shiver and beg even louder for mercy, but Liz didn't care at this point. Rather, she switches up the pace. She lifts her hips all the way till her pussy is at your tip. Slap.
She slams it down.
Hard.
You moan.
Again. Hard.
She moans.
Rinse and repeat.
You don't know what to do. As your mind slowly adjusts, you manage to barely focus on the view. Your girlfriend, looking so professional but yet so slutty and sexy even while she pounds you. She’s feeling herself as she raises her arms above her head, ruffling her hair stricken with sweat.
You want to grab that pair of bouncy glistening tits, but you can't.
You want to grab her hips and slam them down on your hips harder and faster, but you can't.
You want to thrust your hips upwards into her pussy, but your hips are already so high, and you can't.
Tied. At her mercy. And you can't do anything but get fucked both in the body and mind.
The multiple cameras. You're watching yourself getting fucked, and you're also getting fucked. It's like you're cucking yourself. And fuck. It's humiliating. But it's exhilarating.
Smirking, Liz teases you, “How's that baby? Who was the one who went Are you sureeeee about this? You should look at yourself in the camera right now, just a moaning and drooling mess.”
Her taunts sent your mind haywire. And she's not wrong. Every angle of your depraved state is displayed right in your eyes through the multiple cameras.
Front camera. You see her juices spilling out as she bounces.
Back camera. You see her ass cheeks rippling every time it makes contact with your hips and balls.
Ceiling camera. The way she looks up with her eyes rolled to the back of her head as she drools too.
Left side camera. You see her pronounced thigh muscles flexing every time she lifts her thin, slender frame up.
Right side camera. Those same thigh muscles relax and her glutes clenches as she crashes her entire weight down.
With every piston, the pillows are getting flatter as she pounds you into the bed, and you're both getting closer and closer.
She smirks and an evil plan forms in her head. “So much for the “latency issue”. I’m going to exploit it. Get ready baby~” she moves her hand to her glasses and slides her finger along the right spectacle frame.
Up and down. Then it happens. The video “lags” again. And the next moment, it was back to normal. Then it “lags” once again. A split second later it was back to normal. She was using the ability to adjust for the latency to invoke an artificial sensory overload in you. And it was working.
Your mind struggles to decide on what it is feeling and seeing. All you know is that your entire body is convulsing and trashing as your mind ascends past euphoric pleasure. Your palm was gripped so tightly and your toes were curled as Liz continued to slam onto you. Wet soaking squelches echoed off the walls as your wrists pulled against the cuffs so hard due to the sensory overload. Your mouth was open so widely as you gasp, pant and moan. The rhythm was chaotic, and your heart beat too.
It was the same for her. Her slams are getting more erratic as she adjusted her own “lagging” as well. The chaotic rhythm ascends into a crescendo as her moans transited into squeals and shrieks.
“Baby-I-I’m going-” Her last words were cut off as she clenched and writhed, flooding your entire waist. Waves of hot warm liquid crash as she convulses and cuma. But she doesn't stop. She knows you're on the precipice too. She reaches her two arms forward to your nipples and flicks them with her slender fingers, sending even more shocks to your collapsing fragile will.
“Cum baby, cum for me. You're such a goood boooy for me. Doing so well, taking my tests so well. Fucking cum deep into my pussy baby~”
Four more slams is all it takes and you cross the edge. You let out a long extended breathy roar as your anal muscles contract and relax as hard as you can, pumping your first blast of thick, warm, gooey milk right into her soaked pussy.
She senses your eruption slams down with all her might repeatedly, milking each and every blast from your dick. Her pussy treats your shaft like a straw, gripping and sucking every single drop of cum out from your balls. Weakening slaps continue to echo throughout the room as she bounces while your orgasms cross the peak and slowly plateau.
A few more moments pass and she's collapsed on your left. Wait, it’s your right. Whatever it is, your mind can't function anymore.
She rests for a moment before gathering herself to sit up. You hear her reach for the keys to your cuffs, hands trembling as she struggles to release you. Even then, your body and mind are so drained and exhausted from the constant readjustments that you can only lie there as your dick grows limp. You are a total mess. Body stricken with sweat. Groin drenched with her juices and your cum. Trembling.
You barely managed to tilt your head to the side and the widest smile just spreads across your face as you see your girl just huddled in front of the desk, scribbling on her notepad which you assumed to be the changes that she would need to address for the continued development of Perspectives v6.0.
She turns around, looks at your dumb smile and just laughs. And all it takes is one sentence from her to send your mind reeling again as you recall the earlier experience.
“So baby, how's that for a change of perspective?”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Back in the office, an unfinished loading bar on Liz’s desktop screen slowly increases.
Automatic uploading of recorded content into shared drive.
9 of 13 files uploaded.
69.0% complete.
Author’s note:
Hello~ Ahem! This is my first time here and I present to you my first piece~ I've been reading kpop smuts since… god knows… about 5 to 6 years ago? As such, I really really wanted to try out writing my own piece. Thanks to @gammasnippets for providing and sharing advice, and as well as some of my precious beta readers.
In any case, I hope you enjoy reading my piece. And don't be shy to hurl any criticism at me so I can get better~
I've Been Meaning to Write This for a While Now, and Finally I Got to It!
Soloist Jo Yuri x Male reader
Categories/warnings: smut!
Word count: 5.1k
a/n: pure filth look away.
~~~
Puppy dog eyes, the kind you couldn’t resist, not that you wanted to. She came home in her usual fit: a knit sweater over a comfy shirt, a pair of shorts that reached to her knees, cute little puppy socks under her black sneakers. Her hair is tied up in a messy, barely-holding-it-together bun, just the way you like it. She flashes you that signature smile, the one only meant for you: quiet, shy, wanting only the softest attention only you could provide.
Apart from her outfit and that lovely smile, she had something else, and needed no words to introduce it: too many bottles of soju for too few people to share them. “I can hold my alcohol,” she always said, and truth be told, she’s always been able to—there was no doubt in your mind, nor was there any need to. She’s fine, you’re fine, “Just tired, Oppa. Come drink with me?”
~~~
It's the last shot, never mind that it's been the last shot for four shots now. The room spins around you and you try so hard to pin something down, all of it in vain. The tiredness from a too-long week for the both of you has long faded away, replaced by the tiredness of three bottles of soju shared between a couple that overestimated themselves.
You're almost sure your head is physically lolling from side to side as you try to steady the world around you, but even with your hands cradling either cheek and keeping yourself still, your bearings seem to elude you all the same. The sharp sweetness of the alcohol stands guard at the back of your throat, defending your tongue from the acid that bears down and advances on your tongue. You can't tell whether it's your palms that are sweating or your forehead, though there’s not really much difference, you suppose, as a final coherent thought.
Yuri doesn't fare any better. What looks like her lightly bumping her head repeatedly onto her arm on the table, followed by a small and sharp inhale or a tiny grunt, are actually her pathetic attempts to pick her head up off the table and failing miserably. She tries again and again, but the gentle thuds of her forehead reverberating through the wooden table soften your heart with each passing one.
Despite your own numbing inebriation, you make to help your girlfriend up. The next time she tries to pick up her head, catch her with a hand placed hastily on her arm. Not too much force, hopefully only gently, push her forehead up til you can sort of see her face. And despite the world spinning around you, you find her cheeks are flushed, eyes half-shut as if she can't tell whether they're open or not, her jaw slack and hanging like she doesn't know it's still there.
She spots you at the edge of her vision, and the smile that tugs the corners of her lips up—God, she's gorgeous. Her hands are careless, her arms flailing around trying to hit you, or something. They find your shoulders, and she pulls herself close just as recklessly.
Despite a dull bump of foreheads, which neither of you notice anyway, you stare into what you can of her eyes. She's always had this look about her, the way she watches and observes, like knowing exactly what to pay attention to. Push her hair behind her ear, cup her cheek, feel the squish of her face against your palm. She smiles in your hand, nothing but love in her eyes as she admires yours.
“Have I ever told you… *hic*... how fucking good you look?” Her speech slurs carelessly, each word fumbling past her plump lips like they didn’t need to be heard to be understood. And in a way, they really didn’t; the way she looks at you is proof enough that she’s head-over-heels for the one who looks after her so carefully despite your own drunkenness.
Your chuckle is music to her ears, and she falls just a tiny smidge harder because of it. “I don’t know what you’re talking about… You’re… *hic*... the most gorgeous person I’ve ever fucking seen.” Your hands find her waist and squeeze ever so gently, and despite the thin fabric of her shirt between your skin and hers, the heat from her body makes its way easily to your palms and warms you like nothing else could ever dream of.
Your hands travel up her sides, and with every inch you feel her squirm against you. She sits herself upon your lap, stumbling every which way as she does, her knees knocking against the table and your thankfully empty shot glasses tipping over and rolling off. In spite of everything, her hands fall gently on your shoulders, her eyes on yours, her lips parted ever so slightly as if telling, asking, begging you for attention she would only ever seek from you. “Is this okay…?” she asks carefully, as if it would ever be not-okay with you to have the most beautiful woman in the world on your lap, restricting your field of view to just her, taking up your entire line of sight to only, plainly, and solely her.
So how could you not show this girl how deep your love runs for her? Mark after mark after mark on her neck, her smooth skin a canvas of light dots and barely-there bruises. Each one you leave comes with something slightly less temporary—from the breathy moan that escapes her as she keeps your lips on her skin, to trapping your face in the crook of her neck to steal away the little perfume she has left, to the light indentation of your teeth on her collarbone. And you oblige; you keep kissing her wherever she aims you, letting her guide your head on both sides of her slender neck, as you whisper sweet nothings in between every single peck and suck, “Mm…” “You’re beautiful,” “You taste so fucking good…”
Decidedly not content, she grows tired of her favorite shirt—she grips the hem clumsily and tugs upward, revealing her waist to you like you've seen a million times before yet could never, ever get enough of. The flimsy piece of clothing clears her chest, and you find her black bra covering her luscious breasts, strap fallen off her shoulder and her fingers dealing hurriedly with the clasp on her back.
Dive into her chest this time, take her smooth flesh for yourself. She gasps as you nip and suck at unpredictable spots all over her, and as the bra falls away, you make for her nipples. You wrap your lips around one, sucking gently as you feel it stiffen against your tongue swirling around it, tracing her areola, and her breaths slowly turn into moans as you lap at her sensitive breasts. She snakes her fingers through your hair, tangling them in between to keep you in place as she pushes her tits further into your mouth.
You switch to the other one, and you feel her nipple stiffening against your tongue. Yuri leads your free hand towards her other breast, begging you to touch her more, “Fuck, Oppa, please…” Her back arches, pressing her tits even harder against your face, as you take in everything of her: the soft flesh between your lips, the scent of alcohol and final quiet notes of her perfume wafting not even an inch off her body through the air, the harsh sweetness of the alcohol you shared riddled on your mouth and hers.
“It's so good…” she confesses, and the blush on her cheeks grows redder, deeper. She grows restless, twitching and jerking on you as you lap mercilessly against the skin of her boobs. With a pop you release her nipple, and it sends her arching her back one more time, so beautifully that you couldn’t tear your eyes off of her even if your life depended on it. She’s rendered breathless, her fingers still gripping your hair to keep you still as she collects herself.
Your girlfriend is beautiful: a deep and mysterious pair of eyes filled with nothing but love and lust for you, a tantalizing neck just begging to be marked over and over again by her man, a perfect set of tits that she's all but promised only you could ever see or touch or use. You stay frozen in place admiring the goddess of a woman on top of you, when she reaches out and touches your face, asking to let her pull you back in for more kisses. Lean over and meet her where she is, take her plump, luscious lips for yourself again as she moans into your mouth like it's how things were destined to be.
Yuri cups your crotch, feeling your cock hard and straining against too many layers between your bare skin and hers. She fumbles with your drawstrings before ultimately untying them and sliding your pants down to claim her prize. She palms your erect shaft in your underwear, the last barrier separating her from what she wants, feeling how you throb against her hand like it was the only thing you wanted too.
“Oppa… can we…?” she mumbles. Her mouth dries quickly without your kiss, and you find yourself breathing heavy without hers all the same. She sits up and, to your surprise, hops onto your lap, keeping you in place and restricting your view to only her tits right in front of you and begging to be used again.
Yuri begs, “Just suck, it's so fucking good…” as she wraps her hand around your cock. She makes slow strokes up and down your shaft, feeling you twitch and throb against her loving and lustful touch.
Your lips find her nipple again, only starting to swell with how much attention you give to them. This time you bring her sensitive peak in between your teeth, nipping gently as she throws her head back. Her sweet flesh jiggles and bounces on your face, and you're spurred on further with how she whimpers as you make love to her boobs. Bring your free hand to her other breast, match the pace of your licking with your fingers. You flick her stiff peaks at the same time, one with your tongue and the other with your thumb, as her moans grow sweeter and airier.
“Fuck, you love my tits that much, Oppa?” Her giggle only makes your cock harder, and her thumb only rubs the underside of your tip just the exact way you like it, the way only she makes it feel so good.
She takes another shot of soju, but not for herself—she swirls it in her mouth, oh so careful not to spill any despite your lapping and pawing relentlessly at her pert chest. Looking up, you find her lips trembling and her cheeks puffed as she tries her best to keep the drink in her mouth, until she stops you, pulls you off of her chest, comes in for a kiss.
And it's messy in exactly the way the two of you love it. The moment you settle in, her lips part. The soju mixed thoroughly with her saliva floods your mouth and coats your tongue, each drop you couldn't catch streaming down trails from the corners of her and your mouths. She holds you in place, a hand on your neck, as if you'd go anywhere else. Grip her waist tighter and tighter, all the while she gently rubs the tip of your cock the way only she ever can.
You almost, nearly, badly want to swallow. Your tongue dances with hers, the soju still sloshing around in your mouth as she licks and nibbles on your lips before diving back down to try and fail to steal it all back. The alcohol still falls from the corner of your mouth, streaming in drops down your cheek and onto your neck, where her hand stays holding you in place like she never wants to let you go. And with every slurp and moan and tiny breath she takes, you never want to let go either.
But all good things come to an end. She's slowing down, her breath all the more ragged, her hips starting to grind against your cock. It's one final dip of her tongue into your mouth, pretending to lap up the soju she so generously offered to you, before she pulls back and admires her masterpiece. Her eyes drift over your features, each marked and tainted with her essence. Your brow newly released from a furrow with tension still woven in, your neck slathered with alcohol mixed with her spit, your lips just as puffy as her with how much and how needily you've showed her just how fucking sexy she is.
“God, you drive me insane,” she whispers with the most sultry smile you've ever seen on her, putting her hands on your neck again, “swallow for me.” Her fingertip teases a messy line from your jaw down your neck, tracing the drink as it slithers its way down your throat. And she goes further: her nail grazes your collarbone, the center of your chest, tickles your stomach. And finally, with much too much reverence and care, wraps her fingers around your shaft again. It’s only slow strokes, deep and careless but none the less intimate, as she watches your squirming at the pressure and leaking precum over her hand.
“Baby, on your knees.” You push her gently off of your lap, between your legs; she clambers down obediently, practicing the restraint she's been working so hard to build while sober. She blinks, and her eyes are gorgeous, shining like stars as her lip trembles with the anticipation of receiving her prize. Hold her by the back of her head, and her teeth peek from between those plump, delicious lips. Pull her closer, and your cock throbs right in front of her beautiful face. Snake your fingers through her hair, clutching in your fist just enough to be able to control her. Less than a centimeter away from your tip, she pants hot breaths onto your head, getting more and more turned on by the growing bead of precum forming so painfully close to her tongue.
“That's my good girl,” you groan, admiring the way she admires your cock. She can only hold that wide-eyed stare, drool forming on her bottom lip as she shivers, waiting for your green light to let her choke on your length like she's done hundreds of times before. Inch her close, closer, until she's able to plant a kiss right on the underside of your rod, and the sensation forces shocks up your spine. Your hips buck against her lips, your grip loosens ever so slightly, giving her the smallest degree of permission she can have, and she takes advantage: one kiss after another, all along your length. Yuri is relentless, going up and down your length, one tiny suck after another with every fake kiss she wishes was more than just a kiss. You know she's just playing dumb, trying to see how much of the rules she can break and get away with: no sucking without permission, no licking until you let her, but with her eyes shut lightly and with how she worships your cock, you just have to give in.
But not without one more game.
Yank her off your crotch, yank her away. A gasp catches in her throat as she's so unceremoniously pulled off of you, and by the way that gorgeous line of spit stretches from her lip to your cock, you can tell she already misses you so fucking bad.
“Does my good girl want more?” you ask, and immediately she melts: her tongue lolls out, she stares up at you, pants like a dog waiting for a treat, “Y-yes… *hic*... Yuri wants more…”
Trace your head along those luscious lips, watch her give herself to you. Her eyes flutter closed, and you take her chin oh-so-gently; she plants messy kisses on your head with her warped sense of respect, spreading your precum all over her mouth now that you’re allowing her. Your length drags across her lovely lips, letting her coat it with more of the drool she’s been desperately offering you. You stop all of a sudden, your head resting on her bottom lip, pulling it down slightly, and she knows what’s next.
Yuri keeps her mouth open just a little, wishing with everything she has that you would just shove it in. But instead, you teach her her place, taking your time just as you take her mouth. The underside of your cock drags against her tongue as you push further into her mouth, and once you hit the back of her throat, once she gags that adorable little surprised gag you always do when you’re almost all the way in, her lips seal around your shaft and she sucks. Hard.
Her cheeks hollow out, her head starts to bob up and down your length. Each time she goes down, she forces your tip against her throat right back, she lets out another loud slurp as she pulls back almost all the way. And all the while, you revel in how this absolute goddess of a woman takes your cock over and over again so willingly. She does it so well, slathering your cock with her spit like it’s what she was put on this earth to do. She works your cock like it was her sole purpose, services you like there was nothing else in the world for her. Each loving stroke of her face on your length brings you closer to the edge, and with the way she looks up at you—eyes unfocused, mouth anything but—she shows you she can’t fucking wait for it either.
She pulls her face off your cock with a pop, or rather, you make her, “Hahh, haahhh…” she pants desperately, “M-more…? Please?”
And you swear she melts your heart right back. She’s the image of submission: polite, willing, needy, and on top of it all, you always did have that soft spot in your heart that only she could ever have. She looks up at you, waiting for whatever it is you’ll let her do, make her do, and the only signal she needs is your fingers falling away from her chin.
Her eyes widen, pure joy spreads throughout her face at your permission. She giggles, sits up on her knees, “Thank you, Oppa.” She brings up her chest, presenting her beautiful tits to you once more: every single light hickey still prominently displayed on her smooth skin, her pink nipples stiff and puffy from all your past attention, the way she squishes them together around your cock like her body is your personal paradise. “Look at what you, *hic*, did to me…”
She continues her worship, keeping you secure between her tits. Yuri starts moving, dragging her boobs up and down your length, making you groan, music to her ears. Her titfuck is sloppy as sloppy gets: careless where you like, reverent where it matters. She almost loses her balance every once in a while, slipping to the left or right at a particularly enthusiastic jerk of you, giggling as she rights herself before continuing to service your cock. And her moans—God, her moans—like she’s getting off to getting you off all the same.
And how could you tear your eyes off the sight? Here’s the most gorgeous woman in the world between your legs, the perfect skin of her shoulders and neck on display for you, the most delicious pair of breasts on your cock. The way she squeezes and bounces them, how she proudly shows them off, begging you to do more than just watch. So you indulge her, or rather, yourself: take over the job of keeping her tits wrapped around your cock, take her boobs in your own hands, and she lets out a low hum of absolute depraved pleasure at the sensation of being used again. She kneels politely in front of you, letting you grope and touch and squeeze her body like she knows you own her.
She gets that glint in her eyes again, slows down her titfucking to a painful near-standstill. She hands you one of the fallen shot glasses, pours a drink into it, smiles that drunken smile only starting to turn sober. “Just a second…” she whispers only loud enough to tickle your ears. All at once, she throws her head back, the soju spilling into her mouth, but she doesn’t swallow; and you swear this girl being as in love with you as she is is nothing short of a miracle.
She keeps it in her mouth, swirling, swirling like she did earlier, except not as long, not as careful: she wants to be messy for you. Her cheeks are puffed, filled with the drink, a smile reaching up to her eyes. Yuri, ever the romantic, always the depraved, takes your hands in hers. Her fingers wrap around yours as she pulls them back towards the warmth and softness of her chest, wrapping her tits around your throbbing length again. She’s evil in all the best ways, and the fact that she’s this brand of evil only for you is heaven on earth.
“Smile for me, baby girl…” and she takes that ungodly amount of joy in obeying you: she shows you her pearly whites, and soju floods out from between them. The alcohol drips down her lips, chin, chest, leaving a light pink stain down the body only you’ll ever get to see. It’s close to heaven, how the warmth of her mouth spreads over your cock again, and once the drink finishes falling from her lips, she takes your head in again to lick and suck like taking it all back.
It’s her head tilting to the side, making sure you see how your cock pokes and bulges against the inside of her cheek as she keeps running her tongue over what she can reach of your shaft. One last deep thrust into her throat, “Ghlk—” before you pull out of her warm, wet mouth slowly, letting her savor the taste and feeling of being yours.
She coughs exactly twice, wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, shoots you another lazy, dangerous smile. Her eyes are cloudy and unfocused, knowing both you and she’s had more to drink that you know you can handle, yet she loves it more than anything. Takes your cock in between her tits again, goes faster and faster; she’s grunting now, doing everything she can to show you how well-behaved of a fucktoy she is to deserve your load splattered all over her face and coating her tits. “Oppa, I’ve been so good for you… *hic*... Please gimme…”
You can’t take it anymore, not that you want to be holding back on this absolute perfection of a woman. Pull her off your cock, onto your lap. She’s straddling you before it even registers she moved—that sexy smile that spreads across her face as she realizes what you want of her—and she gives you slower and slower strokes as she hovers right over your cock.
Don’t even wait, not when you have bliss itself right in front of you. Dive into her chest again, taking her nipple between your teeth. Suckling on her sensitive pink peaks causes her to groan, but it’s nothing like when she slides down onto your hard, throbbing cock: she throws her head back and lets out a choked moan, “F-fuck, Oppa!”
And she can’t slide down fast enough: your hand on her hip, pulling her down as best as you can, making her take you faster, harder, while you keep lapping at her soft, luscious breast bouncing against your mouth. You grab the other one with your free hand, and you swear you could feel her right then and there squeezing your cock so desperately tight between her velvet walls, five seconds away from the pleasure you and only you could give her. But while you consider showing her the mercy of just the tiniest bit of breathing room, just for her to calm down, you’re reminded—by the way she grips your hair, shoves more of her tits onto your face, moans your name—that the last thing she wants is to calm down. Her thighs are jiggling as she fully sits on your lap, her pussy clenching desperately as she takes you all the way in.
It’s pure bliss for the both of you, having each other close like this, intimate like this, owning one another like no one else ever will. For just one moment, you lean your head right against the middle of her chest, catching the breath you had only just let go. You keep your eyes shut, her delicate, needy whimpers filling your ears as you throb inside her, hitting spots much too sensitive after all your fun tonight. And she just plainly holds you close, taking in the peace and comfort of spending time with her person, twirling your sweat-drenched hair gently between her fingers as she holds you close against her pounding heart.
“Oppa…” she whispers into your ear between deep breaths, “am I good?” You’re reminded that this was all for her, so she can relax and unwind, and the way she asks so cutely for your approval like she needs to earn it fills you with a warm fuzzy feeling to just give her whatever she damn well wants.
Kiss her chest, slowly this time. Higher and higher, up her collarbone, towards her shoulders, feel the softness of her skin against your lips as she gives it all to you. She’s grinding on your cock now, making sure you’re never without her tender loving touch, and as you reach her neck, threatening hickeys that would be hell for the two of you to hide, you suck harder than both of you know you should.
Yet she loves it, “Mmph, fuck, oppa, please,” grinding harder, holding your head against her neck like it’s what she needs to live. Sucking harder still, taking every drop of sweat, every wisp of what’s left of her perfume for yourself, all the while she’s growing louder and louder with each thrust into her wet, tight fuckhole you didn’t know you were giving her.
She confesses, “c-cumming…” holding you as tight as possible, bouncing on your lap knowing you’re the only one she’ll ever feel this good with, “fuck, Oppa, in-inside…”
And there’s no way you can’t indulge her. You slide back down to her chest, squeezing each as rough as you possibly could. Your hands leave red prints on her supple flesh, but the way she clenches around your cock tells you she needs just a little bit more. It’s that breath that hitches, no doubt a sweet moan trying to escape with just the right tension—you raise your hand, not too high, but just right for what she needs—you bring it back down and slap her tit, causing her to let out the cutest yelp. And again to her other breast, “Mmm, it hurts so good, Oppa…” getting wetter as the sting of your palms settle into her boobs. Again still, watching how her tits jiggle as the sharp noise of your skin hitting hers gets the better of her: she’s clenching even harder now, slick spreading freely on her crotch as she rides your deeper and faster.
It’s too much, and at the same time, not enough at all: you dive right back into her chest, but your hands stay right where they are—tug hard on her nipples, pinch and roll them between your fingers like the sort of roughness she begs for. You plant your tongue in the center of her chest and drag up: collecting every drop of sweat and soju you can find and hold. Again and again, drag your tongue up and down the valley of her breasts, all the while she’s screaming at how much tough love her sore, stiff nipples are getting from you. She’s quivering hard against your cock, throat growing sore at how loud she’s getting to be while confessing all her sinful pleasure with you.
It’s too much, devastatingly too much, and with one last lick that reaches up under her chin, a final tug of her nipples that sends her hands wrapping around yours, that desperate thrust right into her core that forces your tip to kiss the entrance to her womb, she screams her heart out as she explodes: tight, messy, yours. She comes undone, squirting all over your cock as she frantically tries tearing your hands off her sore, reddened, boobs, barely registering that you’re leaving mark after deep mark on her neck and shoulders.
Much too much, and you have no choice but to follow suit: that one last jerk inside of her sends a groan out your throat, and your hands leave her tits all the same, gripping her waist impossibly tight as you pull her mercilessly rough onto your cock, making sure she feels every single throb as you fill her with your hot, sticky love. It all but triggers another orgasm in her, she wraps her arms tight around you like you’re the only one saving her from drowning in pleasure and losing her mind. She shivers all over as the warmth spreads from her core throughout her body, knowing there’s no way she won’t be with your child after this. But you can’t be satisfied with merely filling her up—more and more of your cum shoots into her, painting her insides white, and she’s biting hard down onto your shoulder not knowing what to do with her overwhelmed body anymore. You’re leaking out of her, your seed mixing with her squirt as it drips down her thighs, and stars flash before your eyes and hers as you give and take everything of one another—
You can’t even tell how long it’s been. Your back is flat on the floor, staring at the ceiling like it has the answers to questions you can’t even bring yourself to form. And yet, there’s no need to hurry at all: lying her head on your chest, listening for your heartbeat as if it’ll bring back some hint of the physical world around her. Her arms stay tightly wrapped around your neck, yours snugly keeping her close as you two just… breathe.
“I love you, Yuri…” you whisper, not needing to be any louder than the softest of breezes, “you’re my everything.”
“Love you too, Oppa,” she pants, still feeling your warmth swirling inside her, “can’t live without you.”
Jiwon had met him at a club, her friends had finally pulled her out for one night, and she had dressed as plainly as she could, in a blouse and jeans. And yet through the crowd they both stood out to one another—to her he was hard to miss; to him she was the most understated person at the club, her outfit quiet but the lines contained within screamed out, and he had to talk to her.
"Hi, can I buy you a drink?"
Jiwon turned around, and then had to look up. He towered over her, almost a whole head taller. He had stood out to Jiwon quite literally earlier, peeking out over the crowd waiting to get in the club, and now that he was up close, the difference was even more startling. Good looking too, Jiwon added to herself.
"Sure, why not, surprise me."
He gets her a mojito, the cocktail glass seemingly small in his hand, and yet when he passes it to her, it magically grows to a normal size. They get to talking, the friends who brought her out seemingly forgotten and disappeared into the human mass on the dance floor. He cocks his head that way.
"Wanna dance?"
Dance they do, the anonymity of being in the crowd letting both of them be more daring. His hands find her hips, marveling at her figure, and she finds his arms, feeling them up as she grinds against him. Jiwon's temporarily startled when she feels something else, and the next grind against him is more insistent, searching and confirming—he's big. A small groan floats into her ear, the grip on her hips tightening.
"What's your name?"
"Jiwon."
"How about we take this somewhere more private, Jiwon?" It doesn't take long for Jiwon to come up with an answer—it had been a while since her last fling, and living with her members doesn't make it any easier. She grabs the large opportunity with both hands.
"Your place?"
They pull their own disappearing act, reappearing at his apartment with a loud crash of the door. Jiwon jumps into his hands as soon as appropriate, which is when the door closes, and she moans into the kiss while he brings them to the bedroom, large hands squeezing her ass the whole way.
"Eager?"
"You're one to talk," she chides him, feeling him pressing against her insistently. Still in his arms she unbuttons her blouse, delighting in his throb against her when she discards the piece of clothing. Jiwon is tossed to the bed as he pulls his shirt off, and Jiwon can't help but bite her lower lip, ready for what is to come. He curses softly as she wriggles out of her jeans, admiring her figure—he had truly gotten lucky tonight.
"You're so fucking hot," he murmurs, kissing her as he reaches behind to undo her bra. It comes off without resistance, and while her arm automatically goes to cover herself, Jiwon pulls it away quickly, letting him take her in as she runs a hand across his chest, feeling how fit and muscular he is.
"Make me feel hotter." A request that he would happily fulfill. His hand seems to cover her belly, pausing right above her panties. A silent nod later it dives under, two thick fingers coated almost instantly in slick. Jiwon groans at the stretch, even this was more than she was accustomed to. His fingers are long too, seeming to tickle right at the base of her spine when he curls them.
"Oh! That's—" she quickly covers her mouth. Maybe it has been a little too long, but Jiwon leans into the stretch, her back arching off the bed to try and drive herself deeper on to him, she's so close already!
"You're way too hot for just fingers." Jiwon backs away from the edge, and when her eyes are open again she's staring at it, no him, no, it, straight in the face—it's big, longer than the toys she's tried, certainly thicker, and she definitely wants it inside her. Her mouth is already open before she realizes what she's doing, and she lets herself do it, stuffing her mouth with his meat. "Oh fuck, that's good." Jiwon can only let out a huff in reply—he looks big and feels bigger, and she has to stretch her jaw stretch to accommodate him, her teeth lightly grazing his shaft. She settles for his head, tongue swiping across it, tasting his saltiness. She tries to go deeper, but she's still some way from his hips when she can feel her gag reflex kicking in, and with a gasp has to let him go. Maybe some other time she'll try again, but she knows one way she can take him without gagging.
"Wait, let me get a condom," he says, and Jiwon blinks, as if in a trance, panties already halfway down her legs. How could she forget? She was ready to just take him raw! She gives a slight nod of embarrassment, but her eyes are glued to his cock as he stretches a rubber over it. As soon as it's on she's on him as well, hand barely fitting around him as she points it cuntward.
"Hnngk!" Jiwon feels the stretch immediately, her entrance shoved open by the sink of her hips.
"Slowly, you look so hot." Taking my cock, he adds internally, watching the beautiful girl he just met at a club bite her lip and sink a little more on to him. She's tight, her walls rubbing against his tip as she keeps going down, small bolts of pleasure going through him despite the rubber. Soon Jiwon's on her knees, having taken a few inches and with more to go.
"Do you want me to be on top?"
"No, it feels good like this..." She gyrates her hips, trying to screw herself quite literally on to him. Jiwon braces her hands on his chest, leaning forward more and more as she pushes herself down. A small shift of his hips, and Jiwon yelps into his mouth as the last inch is hilted inside her.
"You okay?"
"Yeah, you're just really big," she mumbles into his neck, and he was going to tell her to take her time, but—
"And I fucking love it." There's an audible clap of flesh as Jiwon slams her hips back down on him, making him moan and her cry out. She tries to clench around him, but her muscles don't move, like there's no give to the hard rod of meat inside of her, her walls so overwhelmingly stretched and pushed apart. A low "Fuuuck..." of relish is all she can muster, her mind barely able to handle the pleasure he is giving her. Jiwon's hips move with a mind of their own, and that's good because her pussy's fully preoccupied with him inside her, especially when he begins to thrust upwards, hands on her waist easily moving her up and down his shaft.
"You feel incredible," he gasps, marveling at how incredible she looked as well—Jiwon's hair is flying as she begins to bounce harder on him, adjusting to his size better now. Her tits move too, her entire body alternating between arching her back when she's jammed full of cock, and curving forward, letting her brace on him as he pulls out. Jiwon's so light that he can push his hips up in the air, letting gravity help fuck her even harder, making her scream on this spine-tingling rollercoaster.
"Oh fuck, oh fuck you're going to make me cum, you're going to— Ahhh!" Jiwon collapses on top of him, screaming into his chest as her orgasm slams through her. She feels an arm wrap around her waist, pressing her against him belly to belly, and the cock pounding into her begins throbbing, prolonging her peak as he's arriving at his.
"Shit Jiwon, argh!" She's so stretched she feels every pulse inside her, a sudden bulb of warmness felt as the condom is filled, his last few thrusts finally growing weak and coming to a rest. There's a dull buzz in her head, as if to say Yes, now we're satisfied! She lays on his chest for a few moments, before a different kind of dull buzz brings her back to reality.
"Where's my phone?" Jiwon scrambles off his body, finding her purse and fishing out her phone. "What is it?"
"Unnie where are you! It's almost curfew!"
"I'll be a little late, make up something for me." She hangs up and whirls around, finding him holding up her clothing.
"I guess a round 2 is out of the question? Who still has a curfew though?"
"I-I'm an idol, so... Yeah." His eyes widen, suddenly understanding how she found her way to his place.
"That explains things. Must be hard to find some time for yourself in a dorm."
"No I don't— You felt big and—" Jiwon shuts her mouth immediately, ignoring his beam and trying to get dressed quickly.
"You felt good too, so much so that I want to see you again. How about it? Would be easier than trying to find you at a club next time."
"Yes! I mean, yeah, that works for me. I'll let you know." Jiwon tries to play it off, but the spark when he touches her hand to pass her phone back is undeniable.
"Sure, you're the busy one, hope to see you on TV."
"Yeah um, see you soon." She hurries back to the dorms, and she's grateful that he didn't leave any marks or hickeys earlier, but he did leave his mark in her. That night Jiwon felt a good kind of sore, not from working out too much or going too hard in dance practice, but from a good thorough fuck. She never got that from her fingers or her toys, neither of which are big enough to quite satisfy her. She slept better that night than she ever had, and she woke up the next morning with one thing on her mind.
She'd have to see him again.
So she does, several times, each time leaving his place sore and happy. He was accommodating—when she needed a quickie, he'd let her bounce on him, his fingers rubbing her clit to help her along. A bottle of water and a kiss, and she was on her way out, toeing the line between casual and efficient. On days she knew she had the next day off, Jiwon let him have his way with her, delightfully screaming her head off as he fucked her silly, using her as an additional wrapper to the condom around his cock. Nights where her feet spent more time in the air than on any bed or floor were the best, stretching her to her limits as she's either pounded into the bed, wall, or door; or carried and bounced haplessly on his cock, cumming the whole time. She's often bed-ridden the next day, hips sore and walking funny when she had to move, but otherwise just ordering takeout and sighing as she remembers the previous night. She's taken to returning to the dorms in his oversized clothes, just to hide the marks left from the night, and so far she's managed to pass it off as her changing fashion sense; if she has to take a bit of flak from her members, so be it.
*Are you free tonight?* This was looking like one of those nights, as Jiwon checked her schedule for tomorrow and cheered internally when she found it blank.
*Yeah but it'll have to be outside, friend is sleeping over at my place*
*Drunk friend* he follows up, quelling the unexpected jealousy in Jiwon's chest. She figures out the next best solution, a love hotel in between the two of them, far enough that no one in the area would recognize her going in, but close enough that she could get back before anyone notices.
*Meet me here at midnight* Nervously Jiwon waits for her members to fall asleep or sneak out themselves, and when she arrives fifteen minutes late she's thankful to see his big form still there.
"Sorry, took a while to get out." She pulls her mask down to smile at him before slipping it back on, maintaining her cover.
"No problem, this the place?"
"Yeah." The two of them head into the love hotel.
"Welcome, how many hours?" The guy at the desk drawls, not even looking up, until he doesn't hear any response. "Hm?" The two of them fidget—this never came up before, how much time would they spend "together"? This felt more official all of a sudden, a young couple stealing away for some privacy.
"Er, one night?" Jiwon offers nervously.
"70,000 won."
"Here." He takes the money and slides a keycard and some toiletries to them without a second glance.
"Have a good night."
They are silent as they walk down the corridor to their room, ears unconsciously perked to see if they can hear anything, both excited and nervous.
"This is us."
"Uh huh." The two of them sit on the bed, neither making a move just yet.
"This is awkward," he offers. "Should we just try another time?"
"No! I mean, you already spent the money for this place." Jiwon swings her legs across him, getting in his lap. "Do you want to do this?"
"Yeah." His arms wrap around her waist, hands already slipping under her t-shirt.
"Okay, then let's not think too much." She lets her weight sink down on him, planting herself there as they make out. "I want your big buddy."
"And I want your tight body."
"You have it, gotta get our money's worth okay?"
"Yeah, we will." Tops are pulled off, bra undone, underwear removed, and then— "Condom." She rummages through what was given and finds some, but they don't fit right on him, only one of the sizes offered barely fitting.
"Does it hurt?" Jiwon asks, watching the rubber stretched tight around him.
"No, tighter than usual but it's fine, I think." Without another word she slides on to him, a soft moan leaving both of them.
"I missed this, uff the stretch..."
"Tight as always, fuck!" Wordlessly she grinds her hips down on his lap, letting herself be slowly stretched just the way she likes it. His hands react to her movements, going from her waist to her ass, squeezing and spreading them as she moves, as if trying to get deeper in her. She locks her feet around his lower back, willing herself to slam harder and faster on him. Her waist is held once more, and he's now pushing and pulling her on his dick, making Jiwon move faster against him.
"Faster, harder! I'm gonna cum!" She yells into the kiss, muffling herself against his lips. A firm squeeze of her hips, and a rough jam on to his cock, and both of them finish together, moans of relief as the awkwardness of doing it in a love hotel fades—this is sex as they were familiar with. Jiwon eyes the filled condom curiously—the load looks bigger in the smaller rubber, or maybe he hadn't done it in a while?
"It's been a bit since we last met," he confirms a little sheepishly.
"Yeah, I was busy." She tears open another condom, stroking him until she can roll it on again. "But we have to make the most of our money right?"
"I have plenty left."
"Good," Jiwon lays on the bed, legs spread and inviting. He doesn't need a second invitation, and she gasps as he enters her a little too quickly—she's missed this feeling!
"We're here to fuck. So, fuck me." He understands the task perfectly, and immediately they're testing the bed's integrity and finding it wanting, the loud creaking of the springs only adding to the moans she begins to let out.
"Oh fuck, just like that, stretch me out, you're getting so deep!" Jiwon's getting so close, her breaths cutting short on every thrust, he makes her cum so damn fast sometimes—
He stops. She opens her eyes, only to see him roll her over, their faces pressed together and into the pillows. He slides in her again, and this time with the pillow acting as a proper muffler Jiwon screams, his cock rubbing at her g-spot and then going far past it. He's humping her incessantly, the poor bed crying out as Jiwon screams into it, she's so tight, so fuckable, so... wet?
"Don't stop, don't stop! Hnngh!" Jiwon's legs kick up when he halts abruptly. "No I'm so close, keep going!"
"Fuck wait, Jiwon wait! The condom ripped." He grunts through gritted teeth—feeling her raw was something else, his sensitive tip being squeezed by her slippery walls directly. He can feel her contracting erratically, even if he's staying still, they're both so close!
"No, don't stop!" They're spooning now, Jiwon keeping him inside her when he tries to roll off. Her arm is on his neck, and a leg is hooked back against his hip, trying to keep him as close to her is possible. "Please keep fucking me, I'm going to cum, I'm going to cum!"
"Nngh fuck, are you sure, I should pull out!" But he's getting even deeper in Jiwon in the new position, and she drags his hand over her mons. The blood's pounding in his head, and he can feel himself ramming deep into Jiwon. Curled against him she's wracked by spasms, pre-orgasmic sparks before she combusts. She should probably let him pull out, but Jiwon's so close to her peak, and right now good-looking, fit, and tall, not to mention big is checking all the boxes in her lizard brain to being bred by him. He's literally at her door, she should just let him in and—
"Hnngh!"
A blushing couple walks by the room outside, hearing the lovemaking a little too clearly. They hear Jiwon begging to cum and his protests mixed with moans and grunts. The girl's jealous of Jiwon—she never feels that good during sex; The guy's jealous of Jiwon's partner because—
"Just cum in me, cum in me!"
Unaware of their unexpecting eavesdroppers Jiwon's scream matches her lover's moan in volume, an illicit wave of pleasure rushing through her as his thick seed surges into her for the first time. She has always felt the condom tip fill when he's blowing deep inside her, vaguely wondering if it'll ever pop, but this time she feels all of it, every single drop that was stored in his balls, pouring into her womb.
"Unngh yes!" "Fuck it feels so good!" Both of them gasp at the feeling of cumming raw together, bodies trembling and sweating. He slips out of her, the condom tattered and torn over his shaft, much like their mental faculties.
"Ahh!" Jiwon feels two fingers shoved into her, moving the cum around, digging. He removes what's left of the condom from inside her, his digits creamy and covered in his own cum. She cleans it off gratefully, and the two of them just lay there, processing what happened before reality hits.
"Damn, I'm sorry, I should have pulled out, should have stopped," he buries his face in her neck, kissing her lightly in apology.
"No, it's fine, I got carried away too. I'm safe, I'll take a pill tomorrow too just in case. You're clean right?"
"Yeah, you?"
"Yes, you're the only one I have sex with." The words slip out of her mouth before she could stop herself.
"Same." He wraps his arms around her, spooning her fully.
"Really? Since when?" she asks quietly.
"I forget, since we met?"
"Thought you would be picking up girls left and right in the club regularly with that big thing of yours."
"They're not as hot, or tight."
Jiwon chooses her next words carefully.
"I can't date right now, but if you're willing to keep things exclusive physically, I think we can forego the condoms." Try as he might to restrain himself Jiwon can feel him tremble, his cock stiffening already between her thighs.
"What if you're not safe?"
"Just try to pull out, and you stock up on morning after pills, at least your cock won't rip a pill up."
"Yes ma'am." With that out of the way, Jiwon turns to face him, kissing him and stroking his shaft slowly.
"Now let's continue making the most of our time here, hm?" He tops her easily, pushing into her raw for the first time. "Oh fuck, it's so hot inside me!"
"You're so wet!" he gasps, the sensation of her walls gripping him utterly exquisite. He feels the load from earlier—Jiwon's downright creamy from being filled up, and there's nothing he wants to do more in the world than to top her off right now.
"Haah! Harder, fuck me harder!" They might be in a seedy love hotel, but Jiwon's in heaven, feeling every throb and pulse of him spearing her open. His tip brushing over her walls like nothing's in between them, because there was nothing in between them. She wraps her legs around his hips, biting her lip to stifle her cries—she screamed just now because she wanted to cum so badly, this time she might scream because she's going to cum so hard.
"Oh shit..." The sight of Jiwon's lip bite is fatal, instantly ending his stamina and swiftly topping her womb off with his cum. The additional heat sends a bolt up her spine, and she's cumming with him, a scream screeching through her teeth as she milks him for every last drop. "Fuck, I came too fast—"
He looks at Jiwon, grabbing her stomach and wincing. "What happened? Did I go too hard? Are you hurt?"
"No, ah! Cramping—" she hisses through her teeth. "Came too hard!" Unsure what to do he places his hand on her flat tummy, massaging it and praying it helps. Jiwon takes deep breaths, willing herself to relax as she continues to twitch in soreness. As she relaxes his load comes dripping out, continuously leaking on to hastily placed tissues.
"Fuck... That was a first," she mutters. "I feel so sore."
"You keep gripping me too tight, that's why."
"Can't help it, you're too fucking big! But don't be sorry," Jiwon assures him she's fine. "Big things are good in small doses."
"Everything in moderation eh? We should just go back and rest then, would be better to sleep in your own bed to recover, this bed sucks."
"I— Yeah you're right. Let's just shower quickly, I can't smell like this when I go back." The two of them share a playful shower, one with no finish as they tease each other for the next encounter.
"Let me see you back to the dorm, just in case."
"No, someone might see us!"
"No one's up this late at night."
"Precisely why I can find my way back myself."
"Precisely what anyone that's still up this late would want! I'll go with you until you're one block away?" Jiwon reluctantly agrees, and as the two of them exit the love hotel they realize they could hear quite a bit going on.
"Do you think people heard us?" Jiwon wonders.
"Probably."
"Ugh, we'll need to pick a different one next time."
"I won't have drunk friends staying over any more from now on, promise. Don't forget to take the pill."
"I won't, just make sure you have some when I come over."
"Mmhmm, see you soon." He leaves a chaste peck on her forehead, causing Jiwon to blush harder than ever.
"Go!"
The next day three boxes of unopened condoms are left out for anyone to take, they read: XL, XL, XL.
Who wants it?
A/N: Always found E.Ji extremely pretty (and hot) and their latest comeback XL (Extra Love) is very nice, so thought about making it about being a bit of a size queen/liking big cocks, or a size difference at least lol. Of course I took too long to write it so their comeback is done already, but do check out the song, and thanks for reading!
“Come on...” You are roughly pushed onto the wall with your hands failing to find where to land. Stunned, you just keep whispering “Miss–” onto her tongue wriggling inside your mouth. You’re totally out of breath, and so is her.
“Yoon. Just Yoon.” Her hands are done with your buttons and are respectively on your throat and crotch. It terribly adds up to the suffocation that you’re already under. Your voice fails as there is only a husky sound from your restrained throat while her hand furiously rubs on your cock over the pants.
The kiss, the chokehold and the stroke sends you to the border of a painful but ecstatic unconsciousness. “I… I can’t breathe, I can’t–” Your eyes are open but the world turns black soon, while her teeth sink deep into your lower lip. One of her hands undoes your pants and underwear before joining the other on your neck.
“I don’t want you to.” Yoon then licks up the left side of your face before releasing the chokehold completely. You recoil your head without realizing it, only to hit the wall with a thud. “Yoon, it’s too danger–” She forcefully grabs your hard cock, causing a hitch in your breathing.
“I made sure there’s no one coming near this classroom.” She licks her palm to coat her saliva on it, and soon you feel trance strokes threatening your mind to go completely numb. The eagerness doesn’t leave her other hand idle as it brings your hands to each of her tits.
“Are you… Are you sure?” You take her black velvet top off to see her bare breasts, and every jiggle following every single stroke on your cock lures you to touch and fondle them. Her sharp gasp intrigues you as your hands tease and pinch her nipples while playing with the soft flesh themselves.
A month into knowing Yoon—or Ms. Shim—and you’re less than a breath away from actually fucking each other. It seemed that it was her who was so anxious to prey on you, the constant denial of your pleasure from edging you.
It’s as if her ultimate pleasure is to use you, not to fuck you. To see how you react, to see how helplessly you fall for her seduction, to see how well you please her, even on the verge of meeting your own pleasure.
“I don't know. What, are you worried? It’s not even illegal, honey.” That’s when Yoon edges you again. There is no chance your mind is capable of counting how many times. You twitch under her embrace, her arms wrapped around your hips while you buck uncontrollably.
“Not yet… I love watching you feel good. Are you close? Are you going to cum soon? Tell me, I might actually let you unload…” You can feel her thumb rub against the underside of your tip and your legs buckle. So far, Yoon has reduced you into a moaning mess for her pleasure, with you barely able to stand and fondle her at the same time.
“I’m–I’m so close…Mmm…!” Your heavenly release was denied once again, the frustration and displeasure makes you grope her flesh harder, so hard your fingers pale and shake. It’s a mixture of feelings that come to your mind when you hear her giggle. She hasn’t lost eye contact for a second while vigorously edging you with her hand. A pair of worked up, fierce, but caring eyes.
“Finger me.” Yoon decides that it’s yet for you to actually fuck her pussy and cum. You think of asking her to move to a safer place for a millisecond. However, temptations heighten to another level when she fingers herself a couple times and forces her fingers into your mouth, making you suckle on her juices.
“Mmh, good… A good student you are,” The wetness is extraordinary. Some flow down your knuckles and drips on the floor. You’ve never thought about what kind of sound would match best with her sharp voice, and nothing could sound better than the vulgar squelches on top of her uncontrolled moans. Her hand’s work eases down to a rather random flutter due to you excelling at what you were told to do.
A thick, slurpy kiss is what you are rewarded with. The uneasiness that comes from the shallow breaths is never an obstacle as her tongue devours deeper into your mouth. You’re still aching and throbbing, less than a stroke from releasing onto her palm, thighs and the floor.
“Make me cum, m-make me cum on your fingers.” As if you haven’t been trying your best to send her off to bliss. It has been the very selfishness that appealed to your likings—cold expressions, laughless, always in dark outfits even her colleagues frowned at. Might be just blind-eyed judgments; everyone including you could effortlessly sense the interest she’d been showing to you.
Yoon would find it hard to set her eyes apart from yours, for example. Even during some of the one-on-one counseling sessions in the teachers’ office, her hands were reluctant to be separated from your lap, let alone her fingers subtly brushing on it. To be honest, anyone could tell just from the way she looked at you. It is an irresistible feeling to know that someone has you in mind; it is even more so, when it comes to breaking the taboo.
So you try to focus on pleasuring her in the midst of all the dirty sounds and deeds unfolding around you. Deeper thrusts, aggressive curls to find and hit the sweet spot and draw even sweeter moans and whimpers. Her hand leaves your cock idle, desperately grasping your shoulders for her dear life. Her fingers claw into your skin as she gets closer and closer, her teeth marking the edge of your earlobe.
Your breathing wasn’t the only source of struggle, because Yoon can barely say anything let alone exhale properly. The hot air tickling your ear multiplies your sensitiveness as you rub your cock on her sweaty belly.
“Can you take off your–” Yoon peaks with a guttural groan and seismic spasms, but never even blinks even when her eyes roll back to witness orgasm messing with her head. Her juice splatters on your thighs as well as on the floor covering your clothes.next to both your shirts. The bottom quarter of your shirt turns transparent, a clear evidence of the intensity you provided.
“Never mind.” Your gaze climbed up from the small puddle on the floor to her calves, knees to thighs and crotch. A pair of black pantyhose that deliciously hugs her fleshy thighs certainly is something you’d sincerely want to stay on while you fuck her. Yoon is catching her breath, hands locked behind the back of your head.
“Take off what? Stockings?” Yoon then raises her thigh to stimulate your cock with its smooth surface. It is a novel texture; it’s totally an eye-opener. You thought it’d be much rougher than how soft it actually feels, and don’t it want to stop.
“How about I keep these on and,” She guides your cock to be sandwiched in between her thighs, and observes how your face contorts and how your voice gets louder as she starts to move back and forth.
“–and do this?” She uses the mixture of her release and your precum as lube, heightening your sensation and leaving you a whimpering mess. The sensation is almost too much for you, your hips buck uncontrollably causing a set of embarrassing moans to involuntarily leave your mouth. The pace of your thrusts skyrockets as she joins your moaning due to the friction the pistoning causes.
“It’s so, so good… I’m so close now…” It feels as if all the foreplay pays off for one moment. “If you keep going I’m probably–” You’re almost screaming, Yoon is moaning out hot air into your ear, your crotch and hers smack to make thick clapping sounds.
“It’s okay, darling. Just look at my eyes when you cum.” An order that is simply impossible. You’re not even cumming yet but your eyes squeeze shut. Your toes curl into the bottom of your shoes as you get closer and closer.
When you manage to open your eyes, Yoon meets your gaze with a winner’s grin, lips agape with the tip of her tongue pushed onto the upper teeth. She draws one of her hands back and pushes four of the fingers into your mouth.
“Lick them all dirty for me. Good boy…” It’s salty and salivating. Her fingers wiggle around your tongue as you coat her hand with your saliva. You’re loving it, completely obedient to her commands, anticipating nothing normal, even feeling proud to have her smile at you like that.
“Oh god, fuck you’re–” The tip of your cock peeking from between her thigh gets massaged by her other hand, making you cum uncontrollably while you try to maintain eye contact with Yoon. Her fingers gently wrap around the tip, taking the load pumping into them. You can feel the warmth of your own seed around your spent rod, and the subtle fondles on the underside of the head makes your knees helplessly buckle.
“It’s okay, it’s okay.” She keeps on thigh-fucking you even after you are done like it’s her lazy habit. The waves are slow but deep. The thrusts awaken and electrify your nerves as her purposeful overstimulation starts to attack your sanity.
It only takes so little for you to witness her cum-coated fingers disappear between her scarlet lips. Yoon suckles on them even by making hollow cheeks and a loud, intended pop.
“You know, I don't give extracurricular lectures to random students.” She's kneeling down slowly, until her chin is aligned with your still hard cock. Her lips brush sweetly on the underside of the entire length.
“You have to be the teacher's favorite. And you're–” Her spit falls onto her palm before being spread roughly all over your cock. That's the last thing you see before feeling your cock probing deep into Yoon's warm throat,her tongue tickling and pressing against the base of it.
It's an unimaginably intense overstimulation that you never even knew it existed; it’s an unfathomably novel, a lesson of all the things a teacher could provide her student with.
It's been ages since you became unable to say a word instead of brainless moans and groans. “And you’re my favorite, in case you didn't notice.” She quickly says it and your cock disappears into her wet mouth again, which automatically draws your hands to the back of her head.
Each word out of her mouth is too much for you to handle. 30 minutes ago when she called you to the teacher's office, which was vacant and dark except for her presence, you thought it’d be another one of those consultations she often offers to you.
Not that it wasn't useful. You just couldn't remember what it was about with the increasingly intimate touches clouding your senses. The look in Yoon’s eyes grew more aggressive, mirroring her actions. Her fingers eventually glide across your inner thighs, it was over.
You actually don't remember what it was about. The only things that still linger in your head are those subtle touches and gestures that were more intimate than ever before, the look in her eyes that were way more aggressive, and when her fingers eventually reached your inner thighs, it was over.
It's so far from over, fortunately. Judging from how alive and lustrous her eyes are, you could say it's just begun. “It’s okay to make noises. No one's here except the two of us.” Then your cock probes deep down her throat again, while a surprised yelp escapes yours.
As if trying to give you the instructions, Yoon looks up at you, pulls your hands to the back of her own head and bobs it at a breakneck pace. It's an impeccable experience. It slides in and out so smoothly with such tightness, and to hear her occasional gags with her big eyes tearing up it’s just so wrong.
It's an achievement to make a teacher cry, but to make one fuck you is immeasurable. It's so awfully beautiful to see her from above, even when almost half of her face is hidden. It sure is a foul milestone to have a woman like her feel hunger on you.
You find it unimaginably difficult not to shove your cock ruthlessly down her throat with your fingers straining into her scalp, even slightly shaking. Her pair of big and watery eyes seem to be enjoying the view above them to the point where you can tell she's smiling just from the eyes and brows.
“I won't stop even if someone walks in from now on.” Who would ever want to? Even if your brain told your hips to halt they wouldn't listen. But soon Yoon withdraws for air, leaving you in a state of nothingness with agape lips, squeezed eyelids, pants so fast you inhale what you just let out.
“You’re close.” Yoon almost whispers it while slowly jerking your throbbing cock. Then you witness the moment when the lust in her outdo the mischief as her grin fades into dazed eyes and hot, thick fumes coming out of her mouth coating your neck.
“Tell me you're about to fucking cum.” The stroking stops, and it's only her thumb rubbing on the underside of the head lazily. She's speaking into your right cheek, teeth gritted.
“I'm about to cum, I'm so close to–” Your tongue helplessly gets conquered by hers. No point resisting because it feels so good. Your mind gets more and more fragmentized. You close your eyes to see the bliss itself.
Yoon puts your cock in her awaiting cavern hungrily but slowly. It's a warm, embracing sensation that threatens to melt your brains and the nerves. “But I'm not, baby. And you're going to make me cum so hard, okay?” When your cognitive functions are back, you're already into a few seconds of pistoning into her.
As if drunk. As if fucking wasted. You start to hear her airy screams enter your lungs. It's a blessing to fuck one of the prettiest woman you've ever met with little oxygen.
But you're nailing it, apparently. You’re carrying one of her legs because it gave up on her long ago. Her hands are so unsettled on your back despite her nails clawing at your back, leaving marks behind her immense pleasure.
“Are you–” The other leg fails her and you two hit the cubicle behind as the orgasm she's been begging for pays a seismic visit on her body.
Panting, Yoon helps herself to sit on the table. Legs wide-open, abs spasming subtly, perky tits flushed and heaving up and down, and her hands on your shoulders pulling you in.
“I thought you'd make me cum so hard, hmm?” Certainly she almost fainted, but didn't. Your bad, it seems. You hug her waist with your arm before adjusting your cock to her entrance and thrusting it in. It makes the clapping sounds that are partly stifled by her moans and yelps.
Yoon puts your hand on her chest for you to fondle. Light-brown nipples, handful size and jiggling at the pace of the sex you two are in. They're soft. You love seeing them being squished by your fingers. You loved everything about her, from her orgasmic face to her silky legs but nothing compares to her pussy that continues to create a mess on the table.
Your mind begins to blank as you feel the peak approach. Yoon's eyes roll back to her melted brains as her cum runs down your legs and her drool drips down to her tits and your hand.
What a scenery. It can only refuel you to keep her stuck in the abyss and join her soon. “Miss, are you okay?” She manages to nod which turns to a crazy shake in no time with her shouting-“Fuck, fuck, oh, I c-came so hard I–”
Then you send her back to ecstasy for the last time. Her teeth dig deep into her lower lip before her mouth opens up and lets out a desperate set of screams. You doubt if she even feels it when you cum deep inside her pussy.
It just keeps coming out, though you already came a few times. Some already ooze out of her contracting sex. Mind-blowing, literally. That term must've been invented after a hot, intense sex just like what you experienced.
And Yoon stays there leaning on the cubicle wall looking like a goddess, leaving you to appreciate the beautiful, sexual sight before you. After regaining the ability to breathe, you clean yourself off before wiping Yoon’s sweaty body, removing the evidence of this mind blowing experience. The evident wet spots in your shirt were going to get washed regardless.
She was no longer just a regular teacher like the countless others you had. The sexual encounter lingers in your head vividly, It's to the point where her professional moments don't come to you as so professional. Working on her laptop in the very office she fucked you. Writing down things in the same cubicle you made frenzy love with her.
“You love looking at my legs, don't you?” Her fingers skim down her thigh to knee just like she did every counseling session. “You love making me look at them.” Yoon does nothing but giggle, eyes fixated on your lips and nape.
She teaches you countless things: that it’s fine for a teacher to prey on one of her students, that it’s okay to have sex in school, her bed is enough for two, but the backseats of her car aren't, she loves getting fingered, and so many other extracurricular contents that come to you as highly practical.
******
‘2nd floor bathroom. Right now’
‘Just tell the teacher you have to go to the bathroom’
author's note: That's the poll completed: three fics featuring three idols.
---
"Through here, sir."
Minjun nods, heading through the suggested door with urgency. His head is held high, his steps are quick, his gaze sharp. Moving through the sea of people and weaving through the bodies swiftly, his eyes sweep over faces, assessing—perhaps judging. His sharp gaze eventually lands on a woman in a tidy blazer, surrounded by others in matching attire. Minjun’s eyebrow rises, his lips curving into a demeaning smirk. "Azure." The name alone tastes like cheap, fleeting trends on his tongue, a company synonymous with a lack of tradition, of principles. The pin glinting on her blazer confirms it, and a knowing amusement flickers in his eyes. “Daddy's girl is here, huh?”
Minjun legs lock, his heels clacking loudly as he stops, and his escorting group stops behind him. Sensing the shifting tensions, the people from Azure cut their chatter, turning around slowly, as if physically bracing to face the big daddy of the industry. “Hi there,” he greets them dryly, his voice nearly completely devoid of respect. “Welcome to The Flavors Expo, ladies and gents.” They exchange glances, unsure of what to say to the man wearing a golden leaf pin. Eventually, a woman—the daddy’s girl, the heiress—emerges, facing Minjun with an unwavering resolve. “The Azure Taste Limited is humbled to be here,” she says, a calm, confident smile decorating her face, not a single tremor in her voice.
A ripple of hushed whispers spreads through the nearby booths. Seasoned industry veterans exchange knowing glances. This isn't just a polite introduction; it's the opening salvo in what promises to be a very public and very personal war. No one dares to intervene, mesmerized by the clash of two young, formidable wills. The air in the expo hall, already thick with the scent of competing flavors, suddenly crackles with raw, undiluted tension.
The woman extends an open hand, holding onto her coffee with the other. “My name is Lee Chaeyoung. May I ask what yours is?” Minjun’s expressions soften, not wanting to look too hostile right off the bat. “Park Minjun. Golden Leaf International,” he introduces himself, shaking her hand firmly, perhaps a fraction longer than strictly necessary. “Mister Park Minjun,” she echoes, the name instantly solidifying in her mind as both a benchmark and a formidable obstacle. “Would you like to have a sample, Mister Park?” He smiles, stifling a chuckle from leaving his lips, almost disgusted at the idea of having a taste of Azure’s flavor—but he must play nice, at least for now. “That would be amazing. What do you have?” he asks, carefully building a façade of friendliness.
Chaeyoung leads him towards a table lined with pre-filled pods, each one filled to the brim with her company’s flavors. “These are the fruity ones,” she traces a line over a row of bright-colored pods, “and those are our creamy ones. Please, have a taste.” Being a fan of dessert-like flavors, Minjun reaches for one labeled simply as caramel. He then takes a long puff, closing his eyes as the rich, buttery sweetness washes over his tongue, perfectly balanced and utterly familiar. For a fleeting moment, a sense of pure, unadulterated pleasure fills him, a recognition of true mastery—and his stomach twists with unease. It’s more than a passing feeling, though; it’s a jolt of alarm. Azure’s caramel tastes not just similar, but nearly identical to Golden Leaf’s top-selling Salted Silk.
Minjun's eyes snap open, the pleasant haze from the flavor vanishing. Pulling the pod away, his fingers tighten around it. A flicker of raw surprise, quickly masked, crosses his face. Chaeyoung, watching closely, catches the fleeting shadow that crosses his features before his practiced mask slides into place. He clears his throat as the last bit of cloud leaves his lips, offering Chaeyoung a tight, almost forced smile. "Remarkable," he states, the single word carefully neutral, but his mind is already a whirlwind of questions. How did they get so close? Is this a coincidence, a direct challenge, or worse, a leaked secret?
“This caramel blend of yours has quite the depth to it,” he continues, holding up the pod for a moment, “say, Miss Lee, what was your inspiration for this?” Chaeyoung looks away for a moment, hiding her satisfied grin behind the curtain of her hair. “I've always had a particular fondness for well-crafted caramel notes,” she confesses, her voice tinged with excitement. “And our team drew from a wide array of top-tier references when developing this blend.”
Minjun keeps his eyes on her. “References, huh? Like Salted Silk?” he wonders to himself, the words burning like an accusation in his mind, accusing her of copying the result of his team’s hard work. Cutting short the interaction, he takes a deliberate step back, putting distance between himself and the booth, even as he offers her a pair of curt, almost dismissive nods. “I think your R&D team deserves a pat on the back, Miss Lee.” Chaeyoung's hand comes up as she chuckles, covering her mouth in a gesture that is both demure and subtly triumphant, fitting for an heiress of an evolving empire. Even if he perceives it as built on shaky grounds—a new brand standing on no tradition, trying to make a name for themselves—Azure can still pose a threat, and emperors like the Golden Leaf don’t like threats.
Minjun turns abruptly, signaling his escort with a sharp gesture. "We have a meeting with the Chamber of Commerce in five minutes," he states, his voice low and clipped, devoid of the earlier feigned pleasantries. Walking away, his gaze flicks back to Chaeyoung and the Azure booth one last time, the image of that perfectly replicated caramel flavor burning behind his eyes. This isn't just competition; it's an insult to the throne.
-
The initial jolt of alarm from The Flavors Expo morphs into a cold, hard resolve for Minjun. He dedicates the next few weeks to dissecting Azure's market entry, commissioning detailed reports on their supply chain, their patent filings, and even their recruitment strategies. The sheer audacity of their caramel clone still chafes. Golden Leaf's legal team is put on high alert, meticulously reviewing every flavor profile, every branding choice for potential infringement or reverse-engineering tactics. Minjun isn't interested in a public skirmish; he's mapping out a strategic blockade, finding every possible leverage point to corner Azure before they can truly establish a foothold.
“Mr. Park, sir,” a manager calls to him, his gaze darting around the room, his fingers fiddling with his pen as he speaks. “May I suggest hiring some private investigators to look into this?” Minjun exhales, leaning back in his sleek, leather-wrapped chair, the vapor cloud of Salted Silk hovering over his head, a cold reminder of Azure’s brazen challenge. "Keep talking, Mr. Shin," Minjun says, his voice a low rumble. “Sir, we have a reason to believe there might have been a breach,” Mr. Shin replies, his voice gaining a nervous confidence. “There is no way anyone could make something this similar to our stuff without someone leaking the development recipe.”
Minjun’s sharp gaze stays locked on the manager, taking another puff of Salted Silk as he considers the idea. “Does anyone else have another idea, because I don’t see any other way?” he asks the other managers who remain glued to their seats, their faces carefully blank, unwilling to risk suggesting a flawed alternative and igniting the wrath of the big boss. A heavy silence fills the room, broken only by the hum of the air conditioning. "No?" Minjun's voice drops, a dangerous edge to it. "Well, ain't that disappointing." He points his vape pod at Mr. Shin. “Can you assure me that your investigators can be discreet?” Mr. Shin nods slowly, understanding the weight behind his question. “Certainly, sir. They operate outside the usual corporate channels, thus minimizing direct risk to Golden Leaf's reputation.”
Minjun abruptly rises from his seat, slamming the pod onto the table. “This,” he points at it, “is a fucking insult to us.” His fiery gaze scans the faces of the managers before him, each person not daring to look back at him. “I expect everyone to do their part in finding the root of this. You're dismissed—and please excuse my language.”
One person after the other leaves, and as Mr. Shin prepares to join his fellow managers, Minjun grabs his wrist, his fingers wrapped firmly around the sleeve of his suit. “Get me Lee Chaeyoung’s number, Mr. Shin,” he demands. The man simply nods, knowing better than to ask twice, already thinking of ways to get what the boss wants. “By the way,” he continues, “make sure security always checks everyone when they enter and leave the building. Refusing to comply will result in immediate dismissal.”
Settling back in his seat, Minjun pulls out another pod from his pocket: Tiramisu Twist. He grips the pod hard, imagining what it would be like if someone were to clone this flavor. The one he created with his own hands, back when he was serving as the Head of R&D under his father. The one he spent countless hours perfecting until it was deemed good enough for the big boss. The one he keeps coming back to whenever he yearns for comfort.
“Clone this, and I’ll burn Azure myself, Lee Chaeyoung,” he murmurs, staring right into the empty seat across from him, imagining Chaeyoung sitting in it—just the image of her grin makes him hot. He takes a slow, deep puff of the Tiramisu Twist, basking in the gentle sweetness covering his tongue, the slight hint of bitterness the perfect closing note of the flavor. “No one gets to insult the Golden Leaf, and definitely not a company without tradition like yours.”
-
The scorching heat of summer has now been replaced by the calm, more soothing breeze of autumn. The heat in Minjun’s heart is still as fiery as before, though. If anything, it's burning even hotter; the confidential report, detailing how one of his R&D personnel stole Salted Silk's base formula and sent it to competitors, lies scrambled on his desk. It ignites the beast sleeping in his chest.
The report's findings replay in his head: "Former R&D Lead, Kim Dongho, terminated due to insubordination, accepted a position with Azure two weeks prior to their 'Caramel' launch." The name burns. Minjun doesn’t say a word, his gaze drifting out of the window of his office. This is him; mild irritation will make him run his mouth, but one that is deeper, heavier will stifle it. The silence stretches long, only broken by the sound of his pod’s puffs. He was hoping that the chilling sensation of menthol from this Watermelon Whirl could help his mind relax, but it doesn’t feel like it at the moment.
A fleeting image flashes through Minjun's mind: Kim Dongho, years ago, a bright-eyed, eager R&D intern, nervously presenting a flavor concept. Minjun had mentored him, seen his potential, trusted him. The betrayal cuts deeper than any corporate espionage; it's a personal wound. “What happened, Dongho-yah? Is this about that second-grade mango I told you to make, the one you had come up with—we didn’t have the materials for that, though,” he mumbles, wondering what could have made Dongho to stab him in the back.
He shakes his head, dispelling the ghost of the past. The lingering phantom taste of second-grade mango fades, replaced by the bitter tang of betrayal. "It doesn't matter," Minjun mutters, his voice devoid of emotion. What matters is the present. What matters is the enemy now holding a piece of him. He pulls out his phone, the screen already illuminated with Lee Chaeyoung’s contact, courtesy of Mr. Shin.
Minjun presses the call button, closing his eyes as he waits for her to pick up, taking another long puff for good luck. Luckily, he doesn’t have to wait long. “That’s brave,” he thinks quickly; CEOs don’t usually pick up calls from unknown numbers. “Good morning, Miss Lee,” he greets her, his voice flat and controlled. “Good morning. Is this Mr. Park Minjun from Golden Leaf?” she asks, her voice calm, almost too calm, without a hint of surprise.
Minjun’s eyebrows furrow, but his voice remains flat, staying solid. "Indeed it is, Miss Lee," he replies, his gaze fixed on the cityscape outside his window. "I'm calling about that caramel flavor you were showcasing at The Flavors Expo." He pauses, stringing together a sentence to continue. “I won’t waste your time, Miss Lee, so let me ask you this: did you or did you not receive the development recipe for Salted Silk from a certain Kim Dongho?”
A beat of silence, heavy with unspoken tension, stretches across the line, each side trying to be one step ahead of the other. “Mr. Park,” she replies, her calm voice suddenly carrying a sharp edge. “I’m not sure what gives you the idea that Dongho-oppa gave Azure any development recipe.” Minjun’s eyes blink rapidly, and soon, his lips stretch into a smirk—he’s caught her lacking.
“Dongho-oppa, hey? Is that what you call him over there?” he taunts, keeping his voice controlled despite the urge to burst out laughing. "A cute nickname for a corporate spy, wouldn't you say, Miss Lee?" He pauses, letting the silence twist. "Here's what's going to happen. You can either cooperate with our investigation into your... acquisition of our intellectual property, or Golden Leaf International will make sure the name of Azure Taste Limited becomes synonymous with corporate theft. Your choice, Miss Lee. Oh, and I don’t give a piss about Kim Dongho,” he adds, his fingers gripping his phone hard, a testament to the fire in his heart.
The line hums with the weight of Minjun's ultimatum. For a long moment, Chaeyoung says nothing, her breath catching. Then, her voice, though strained, comes back with surprising force. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Mr. Park," she states, the sharp edge now a hardened blade. "Azure Taste Limited operates with the highest ethical standards. We have nothing to cooperate with, and we will defend our reputation vigorously against any baseless accusations. Good day." The click of her phone hanging up slices through the silence.
His grip on the phone tightens until his knuckles whiten, but he quickly relents; she’s hung up anyway. "Fool," he mutters, a dangerous glint in his eyes. He expects a fight, but not a surrender. “Oh, Lee Chaeyoung, surely you’re not this stupid.” Minjun shakes his head, amusement growing in the midst of frustration. “Time to get some lawyers, I guess.” He doesn't waste another second. His thumb flies across his phone screen, dialing his head of legal. "Get a cease-and-desist order drafted for Azure Taste Limited, immediately," he barks, his voice now devoid of any pretense. "And prepare for a full intellectual property lawsuit. I want every single breach documented, every piece of evidence ready. We’re going to war, Mr. Oh."
Within hours, Golden Leaf International's legal department becomes a whirlwind of activity. Mr. Oh, a veteran of countless corporate skirmishes, mobilizes his team, their faces grim but determined. Cease-and-desist letters are drafted, injunctions prepared, and evidence files on Kim Dongho's employment, his proven breach of contract, and subsequent actions meticulously compiled. Minjun leans back in his chair, still looking out the window, taking puffs of Watermelon Whirl while his legal machine churns. This isn't about winning money; it's about making a statement, about crippling Azure and sending a message to anyone else who dares to challenge his empire.
Soon, the legal whispers quickly become industry-wide murmurs. News of Golden Leaf International's aggressive legal maneuvers against Azure Taste Ltd. spreads like wildfire through trade publications and discreet industry forums. Other CEOs, old heads and new bloomers alike, lean back in their chairs, a mix of apprehension and schadenfreude on their faces. The big daddy is making an example out of Azure, and everyone knows it. The question isn't if it will fall, but how hard.
Days later, a thick, official-looking envelope arrives at Azure Taste headquarters, delivered by a grim-faced courier. Chaeyoung reads the cease-and-desist order, her fingers tightening around the heavy paper. The accusations are damning: intellectual property theft, corporate espionage, and a specific mention of Kim Dongho. Her calm facade, usually so impenetrable, wavers. This isn't just a threat; it's a declaration of open war, designed to crush Azure before it can truly bloom.
Later that day, in a tense, closed-door meeting at Azure Taste headquarters, Chaeyoung sits across from Kim Dongho, the cease-and-desist letter spread between them like a battle map. Dongho avoids her gaze, his usual cheerful demeanor replaced by a sullen silence. Chaeyoung's voice is low, strained with barely controlled anger. "Dongho-oppa," she begins, the informal address cutting through the heavy air. "The Golden Leaf just accused you of stealing his company's formula and giving it to us. What exactly is going on?”
Dongho sighs, taking off his glasses and rubbing his forehead, as if trying to wipe the stress away. “I had a feeling this day would come,” he mutters, his voice carrying defeat. “Okay, I’ll confess: I did steal GLI’s intellectual property.” The room falls into a deafening silence, executives trading glances with each other, stunned by such a grave revelation. Leaning back in her chair, Chaeyoung's breath catches in her throat, her initial anger replaced with disbelief. “But this flavor—this blend of caramel—is mine,” he continues, his voice rising in a desperate attempt for understanding. “I made this with my own hands, back when I was with Golden Leaf.”
Chaeyoung closes her eyes, stopping the tears from falling out. She takes a few seconds of silence, her heart aching—perhaps even bleeding—at Dongho’s actions. “If… if it's yours, then how did you ‘steal’ it, oppa?” she asks, her voice shaking slightly. Dongho opens his mouth, a protest or an explanation forming in his mind, but her fist slamming on the table interrupts him. “Do you know how bad this is, Kim Dongho, to get in a fight with Golden Leaf?” Chaeyoung presses on, her glassy eyes a proof of her hurt. “And the worst part is, we're not even trading blows,” she ends, the weight of the IP theft crushing down on her.
The head of legal, who has been watching the exchange with growing alarm, clears his throat, shifting the attention to him. “Miss Lee,” he begins, carefully stringing words together in his head. “I understand your frustrations, but we need facts.” He glances to his left, at Dongho; he doesn't look like he's in the right mind, but legal is about facts over feelings. “Mr. Kim, can you please elaborate on why you decided to… take GLI’s IP here?” he asks, his tone controlled.
Dongho takes a shaky breath, his hand running through his disheveled hair. Not daring to look at his CEO, he turns his gaze to the head of legal. “Okay, you want facts, right, so here they are,” he starts, formulating a defense. “I was the one initially tasked with coming up with the recipe for this caramel flavor. I've done many revisions on the recipe under the directions of Park Minjun and his father. Eventually, we arrived at a roadblock: one of the key materials was a substance that's restricted in this country, but the Parks insisted that we had to use that material, saying that I was a coward for not trying to slither through the holes in regulations.”
The room falls silent once more; this is quite a revelation from Dongho. The idea that Golden Leaf is possibly using restricted chemicals to make their caramel can shake the grounds upon which the giant is standing. Should the giant fall, a race to take the top spot is guaranteed to happen.
“A restricted substance, Mr. Kim?” the head of legal presses, his ears imperceptibly perking up like an excited puppy. “That's… quite the bold accusation you're making.” Dongho sighs deeply, slightly regretful of having to resort to such a level of whistleblowing. “I think… I think they have managed to lobby legislators to lift the restriction, though,” he continues, his voice dropping to almost a whisper. Borrowing a pen from the head of sales next to him, Dongho writes the name of the substance—something that sounds like a magic spell to outsiders—on a piece of paper. “Here's the name. You might want to confirm it yourself.”
Chaeyoung takes a slow, deep breath, steadying herself. The room feels charged, the air thick with unspoken possibilities. She looks at her legal head, then to Dongho, a cold, fierce glint in her eyes. "Verify everything, Mr. Jeon," she commands, her voice unwavering. "I want us to hit back, and we can’t do that without a solid ground to back our claims." The head of legal nods firmly, tucking Dongho’s small note in his pocket. “We will get back to you soon, Miss Lee. We will definitely hit back,” he offers an assurance to the CEO.
They leave one by one, heading out her office in a line, and here Chaeyoung is, sitting alone in her office. She leaves the conference desk and sits on her desk, grabbing a pod of Red Apple—this flavor is an original, by the way; she commissioned it to her RND team last year. She takes a long puff, letting the apple’s sweetness and the subtle cool from the menthol fill her mouth. “Still not perfect, but this will do,” she mutters to herself, taking a small, personal victory amidst the chaos.
-
A ding from her computer, signaling an incoming email, steals her attention. Her eyebrows furrow as she skims through the content; an invite to visit Golden Leaf International, a stark contradiction to the legal threats she had just received. Attached to the body is a handwritten letter, signed by Park Minjun himself. “Wait, what? What the hell is this?” she whispers, the unexpected invitation throwing a fresh curveball into her escalating war with Minjun.
Chaeyoung's hand hovers over the attachment icon. Despite the logical urge to consult Mr. Jeon, her professional curiosity, combined with a potent dose of defiance, wins out. With a swift click, the handwritten letter unfolds on her screen. Minjun's elegant, precise script fills the page, a stark contrast to his recent verbal barrage. The message is brief, yet potent, a single line requesting her presence at his corporate headquarters for a 'private discussion,’ leaving her with more questions than answers “Alright, I’ll bite,” she grabs her phone, calling her driver, “please prepare the car. We’re going to Golden Leaf for… a friendly visit.”
The sleek Continental glides through the city's bustling streets, but inside, Chaeyoung's mind races. She takes another puff of Red Apple, the flavor doing little to soothe her nerves. This is Minjun's territory, his fortress where his throne sits. Is this a trap? A calculated intimidation tactic, or does he genuinely believe he has something that will make her surrender? She presses her lips into a thin line, straightening her jacket. Whatever it is, she won't show weakness; Azure’s future lies in her hands, and if she’s truly to take them to the top, there is no room for hesitation.
Her car pulls silently into Golden Leaf International's sprawling underground parking, a sterile, brightly lit cavern that feels like the belly of the beast. Chaeyoung steps out, her heels clicking crisply on the concrete. The elevator ride to the executive floors is swift and silent, amplifying the sense of anticipation. When the doors finally part, a stern-faced security guard—a woman, Chaeyoung notes—stands waiting, a tablet in hand. "Miss Lee Chaeyoung?" she asks, her voice flat, clearly expecting her. This isn't a welcome; it's processing. “Can you please empty your pockets on the table?”
Chaeyoung moves to the side, her lips tightening as she fishes things out of her pockets and leaving them scattered on the table. “Your phone, please,” the guard adds, opening her palm to receive it. With a sigh, she pulls her phone out of her rear pocket, handing it over to be kept in a small safe. “Do you want my bra too, perhaps?” she teases the guard, her irritation lying beneath the sarcasm in her voice. The guard's expression doesn't flicker, her eyes staying cold and unreadable. Without breaking eye contact, her hand moves, with practiced efficiency, to her radio. “Miss Lee Chaeyoung is clear. I repeat, Miss Lee Chaeyoung is clear.”
The butterfly doors in front of her part, revealing another security guard—a man, this time. He signals Chaeyoung to come closer, not bothering to say anything. “Quite insulting. I’m a damn CEO,” she says to herself, her jaw clenching at the treatment she’s getting. It’s like everyone is trying to tell her she doesn’t matter, but her ego doesn’t squish that easily.
The guard leads her through a corridor lined with closed doors, each bearing a simple, gold plaque: Legal Affairs, Global Marketing, and— “What the hell is ‘Treasury Management?’ Is that not just ‘Finance and Accounting?’” she wonders quietly. Beyond another set of glass doors, Chaeyoung catches a glimpse of a sprawling office space, buzzing with a small army of employees. Having this many people on the executive wing is a testament to the sheer scale of Golden Leaf's operation. It's a stark reminder of the colossus she's challenging, a company whose resources dwarf her own.
The guard leads her past rows of impressive offices until they stop before a large, obsidian door, subtly set apart from the others. No nameplate adorns it, but the aura of power radiating from behind it is palpable. The guard simply nods towards the door, his duty fulfilled. Chaeyoung takes a final breath, the faint, lingering taste of Red Apple a quiet rebellion against the overwhelming presence of Golden Leaf.
Chaeyoung steps closer to the door, but before she could knock, it opens by itself, as if eager to welcome her. Inside, Park Minjun is seen standing by the big glass wall, its tinted surface softening the scorching afternoon sunlight. Stepping inside, the guard closes the door behind her, the subtle sound of the lock latching confirming the lack of an escape route.
Minjun turns slowly from the window, his expression unreadable, a single Salted Silk pod held loosely in his hand. His gaze sweeps over Chaeyoung, an almost clinical assessment in his eyes. The silence stretches, thick with unspoken power. "Miss Lee," he finally says, his voice a low, resonant rumble that seems to fill the vast office. "Thank you for accepting my invitation." He gestures to a minimalist chair placed pointedly opposite his sprawling desk, a subtle challenge in the invitation. “Please, have a seat. I assure you, you’re safe within these walls.”
Chaeyoung meets his gaze, a flicker of understanding passing between them. She steps forward, her heels clicking softly on the plush carpet, and deliberately takes the minimalist chair. It's surprisingly comfortable, its appearance hiding a clever practicality. A subtle smirk touches her lips. "Safe, perhaps, or simply… contained" she acknowledges, her voice calm. "Thank you for the invitation, Mr. Park. I'm sure you didn't bring me all the way to your... 'fortress' just for pleasantries.”
Minjun’s expression softens as his lips curve into a smile, perhaps hiding his hostility behind a momentary façade. “Miss Lee,” he pulls a chair for himself, settling into it, “believe me, I didn’t invite you here to bash you. I meant it when I said I wanted to see you in private.” Placing his Salted Silk pod on the table, he gently pushes it closer to her. “Please, allow yourself to relax. I’m not trying to put you in danger.”
Chaeyoung's gaze flickers to the Salted Silk pod, then back to Minjun's surprisingly soft expression. She raises an eyebrow, a subtle challenge in her eyes. "Relaxing seems an ambitious goal, given the circumstances," she notes, her voice dry. She leans forward, her hands clasped loosely in her lap, but makes no move towards the pod. "However, I'm intrigued. What exactly is it you wish to discuss, Mr. Park, that couldn't be covered by a lawsuit?"
Minjun smiles once more, falling silent for a few seconds as he eyes the pod lying idly on the table. “I’m dropping the lawsuits, Miss Lee,” he mutters softly, his tone dropping to a gentle timbre. “In fact, I’ll also sell you the patent for Salted Silk—cheaply, might I add.” Chaeyoung’s jaw drops, disbelieving what she has just heard, surprise drawn all over her features. “Pardon me, Mr. Park, but what did you just say?”
Minjun’s smile stays solid, his expression softening further, almost appearing benevolent. "I said, Miss Lee," he repeats, a subtle emphasis on his words. "I am dropping the lawsuits and offering you the patent for Salted Silk." He gestures vaguely with the hand holding his pod. "Let's just say... Golden Leaf is about to embark on a new grand venture, one that requires our full attention. We prefer to clear the deck, streamline our focus, and honestly, Azure has given us enough sleepless nights.” His gaze drifts toward the pod before chuckling. “I promise I’m not trying to flirt with you, but thinking about you makes me lose sleep, Miss Lee.”
Chaeyoung's eyebrows raise slightly, her initial shock now laced with deep suspicion. His words hang in the air, a strange mix of business acumen and a thinly veiled, almost unsettling, personal remark. She ignores the flirtation—quite the poor attempt by her standards—her mind rapidly sifting through the implications. Golden Leaf never acts without incentive, let alone sell one of their best-selling IPs. There's a hidden cost here, a trap far more intricate than she can yet discern. “Mr. Park, can you please jump to Azure’s role in all this?” she presses, starting to lose her patience over the circling conversation.
Minjun's chuckle deepens, his eyes still holding that unreadable quality. "Let's just say, Miss Lee," he replies, leaning forward slightly, his tone becoming more serious. “I want Azure to stay in its own lane while Golden Leaf paves the way for the future. Let us pursue this in peace, and in return, enjoy the money that our Salted Silk brings in.” Chaeyoung stays quiet, the room now filled with a tense silence, but eventually, she breaks the brief silence. “Any other terms to your offer, Mr. Park?” she asks, familiar with how Minjun operates. “Oh, of course there is,” he answers quickly. “Develop your own flavors from now on. If we catch you stealing again, we’ll make sure Azure turns to dust.”
Chaeyoung's gaze drifts from Minjun's unreadable eyes to the Salted Silk pod, then back to the expansive view of the city. The offer is tempting: an end to the lawsuit and a profitable IP, but the terms he’s giving are shackles. She thinks about Dongho’s revelation about the restricted material used to make Salted Silk, and a grim smile takes root on her face; Park Minjun is trying to buy her silence, her complicity.
“That thing,” she points at the pod, “that thing contains a banned substance, does it not?” Minjun chuckles, looking almost amused by her question. “Did Kim Dongho tell you that?” He shakes his head, rubbing his forehead as he prepares to reveal his side of the story. “Miss Lee—oh, God, how do I say this,” he looks around the room, stringing words together in the air, “look, if you’re accusing us of breaking the law, then allow me to show you some proofs that we imported the material legitimately.”
Rising from his chair, Minjun grabs a folder from a safe buried in the wall. After making sure he has the right one, he hands it over to her, letting her assess things herself. The first few papers talk about how Golden Leaf got blocked multiple times even when they were trying to import samples. Some others talk about how Golden Leaf paid a fortune in fines for putting too much of the material in the finished product. Finally, the rest talk about an order from the government saying that Golden Leaf are only allowed to import a certain amount lest they are sanctioned.
Chaeyoung sighs but quickly masks it with a tight smile, placing the folder back on the table. “We’re no outlaw, Miss Lee,” Minjun says, his voice now confident. “No matter how hard it is to follow them, Golden Leaf operates within the boundaries of law. Sure, we try to bend it sometimes. After all, those politicians are only good for that.” She offers a small chuckle; her father once tried to lobby those crooks to lower the legal smoking age from 21 to 17. “I don’t disagree with you on that part, Mr. Park.”
Chaeyoung's smile fades, replaced by a colder expression. “Now, about your… suggestion,” she continues. “You want us to stay in our lane in exchange for Salted Silk, but what guarantee do I have that your new venture won’t hurt us?” Minjun taps his chin, his gaze drifting to the ceiling, as if really thinking about the answer to her question. “That’s a good question,” he murmurs. “I mean, so long as you won’t try stealing our IP again, we will also stay in our lane. Isn't that how things were, before all this?”
Chaeyoung's jaw tightens. He conveniently forgets the accusations against Dongho, the initial legal threats, and now, the restricted substance. It’s like he’s trying to paint Azure as the sole aggressor. "So long as we don't steal, you won't hurt us," she echoes, a dry sarcasm in her tone. "That's hardly a guarantee, Mr. Park, especially when your definition of 'your lane' seems to shift with the wind. What concrete assurances can you offer that this 'new grand venture' won't simply be a different method of encroaching on our market, or that your 'peace' isn't just a prelude to a stronger attack?"
Minjun puts his palm on his forehead, dragging it down on his face, his patience running dangerously thin. “Okay, fine. We’ll register Azure as a key account, and as a key account, not only can you have Salted Silk, but you can also buy materials from us. As you’ve seen for yourself, we can get even the most restricted materials to our front door.” Minjun chuckles; he can’t believe he just said these words, but he will get Azure to stand on the side, away from the path Golden Leaf is chasing. Also, for a company like Azure, access to such resources could revolutionize their production. “I know that sounds silly, but I can’t think of any other way—well, aside from buying Azure, that is.”
Chaeyoung blinks, taking a moment for the full weight of his words to settle. "A key account," she repeats slowly, testing the phrase on her tongue. "And this would entail... what, exactly, Mr. Park? Preferential pricing? Guaranteed supply? And what are the specific expectations for a 'key account' when it comes to competition, or, as you put it, 'staying in our lane'?" She keeps her voice steady, attempting to mask the seismic shift his offer has just created.
Minjun leans forward again, his features beaming slightly; Chaeyoung is cracking. She forces her face to remain neutral, even as a jolt of alarm, then interest, shoots through her. “Preferential pricing, yes. Guaranteed supply, yes. Hell, you can even have my heart if you desire. However, most importantly,” he continues, his voice dropping to almost a whisper. “You’ll be the first to join us should this venture succeed. After all, Golden Leaf always takes care of its friends.”
Chaeyoung watches him, a flicker of something unreadable in her eyes. "Your generosity is... noted, Mr. Park," she replies, her voice carefully neutral. The implications of his offer—access to restricted materials, guaranteed supply, a share in a successful future—are staggering, but the word "friends" echoes oddly in the opulent silence of his office. She doesn't miss the subtle power play, the implied allegiance. “Please humor me with one last question: what is it you’re seeking from this… friendship, as you call it?”
A slow, knowing smile spreads across Minjun's face. "Transparency and trust, Miss Lee," he states, his voice dropping to a confidential whisper. “The kind that’s forged between parties who fully understand the nature of this industry. If you commit to pursuing your path honorably, without resorting to... unoriginal methods, then Golden Leaf ensures your prosperity. You will be encouraged to build your own empire, protected from threats of any kind, but poke the lion again…” he trails off, letting Chaeyoung complete his sentence.
Chaeyoung holds his gaze, the weight of his words settling heavily in the opulent office. The "lion" metaphor is clear. She thinks of Azure's lean resources, the relentless grind to survive. This offer, for all its veiled threats, promises a path to power, a shortcut she hadn't dared dream of. "I understand the terms, Mr. Park," she finally says, her voice low. "Transparency, integrity... and no 'poking the lion.' A rather unique definition of friendship, I must admit, but I believe Azure Taste Limited can thrive, even within such... clear boundaries."
“Wonderful!” Minjun claps his hands, jumping out of his seat to grab a bottle of champagne from the shelves behind his desk. “Miss Lee, would you please kindly join me for a glass or two?” Chaeyoung chuckles, rising from her chair to join him by his desk—oh, whose photo is that next to his monitor? She quickly diverts her gaze, pretending to have missed the picture.
As Minjun pops the champagne, the photo by his monitor burns an image into Chaeyoung's mind. It was only a glimpse, but enough to register a soft, almost vulnerable quality that clashed sharply with the ruthless businessman before her. A sister? A lover? The detail sits uncomfortably, a tiny crack in the seemingly impenetrable facade of Park Minjun, making her wonder if there's more to his "grand venture" than just market dominance.
Minjun pours two flutes of bubbling golden liquid, handing one to Chaeyoung, his smile confident. "To new understandings, Miss Lee," he says, raising his glass. Chaeyoung takes the flute, the cold glass a stark contrast to the warmth of her hand. Her gaze meets his, but her mind is still on that photograph, searching for clues. "To new ventures, Mr. Park," she replies, her voice smooth, masking the sudden shift in her perception of him. The champagne tastes of triumph and a lingering, unsettling question.
Chaeyoung empties her glass, the last bubbles dissipating on her tongue, leaving behind that unsettling aftertaste, but her mind keeps coming back to the portrait. “Mr. Park, may I ask who that woman is?” she asks, her tone careful, almost too quiet for him to hear. Minjun turns his head, smiling rather softly as he looks at the framed photo—a beautiful woman with a vibrant, gentle smile—she can sense a deep, lingering pain beneath it, though. “This is Park Sieun, Miss Lee. She was my fiancé,” Minjun hands the photo over to her, letting her have a good look, “she passed away two weeks before the day of our wedding. A drunk trucker took her life, Miss Lee.”
Chaeyoung takes the framed photo, her fingers brushing the cool glass. The vibrant smile of Park Sieun stares back at her, radiating a warmth that now feels heartbreakingly poignant. The ruthless CEO before her suddenly transforms into a grieving man, and the weight of his personal tragedy settles heavy in the opulent office. All of Minjun's ambition, his drive to pave the way for the future, suddenly takes on a new, more profound meaning. She hands the photo back, her voice softer than before. "I... I am so sorry for your loss, Mr. Park."
Minjun takes the photo back, his fingers tracing the edge of the frame. "She believed in a future, Miss Lee," he says, his voice distant, lost in memory—a stark, raw departure from the controlled executive.. "A world where… everyone is happy.” He blinks his tears back, covering his mouth with the back of his hand. “It sounds cliché, I know, but… but I want to believe in that future too, so please help me, Miss Lee.”
Chaeyoung watches him, the sudden shift from ruthless CEO to grieving man pulling at something deep within her. His raw honesty, even if clichéd, gives a chilling new context to his drive. His empire-building isn't just about money; it's about a desperate need for control, for a legacy for the woman he lost. She nods slowly. "I see," she says, her voice measured. "So, this 'new venture' isn't just about market dominance; it's about... fulfilling a promise." She pauses, her gaze hardening slightly as the businesswoman reasserts herself. "If your vision for this 'happy world' is truly innovative and adheres to ethical boundaries, then yes, Mr. Park. Azure Taste Limited can play its part."
Minjun places his flute on his desk, slowly opening his arms, his eyes searching hers with raw vulnerability, hesitation drawn all over his face. “Please?” he whispers, begging her to come closer. With a soft step, Chaeyoung closes the gap between them, her arms wrapping snugly around him; he’s quite warm, too. “I hope my Sieun is proud of me,” he murmurs, his voice shaking quite violently. “She is, Mr. Park, and she loves you too,” she replies, whispering right into his ear.
Minjun's body trembles against Chaeyoung's for a long moment, a lifetime of grief contained in the brief, fragile warmth of their embrace. Slowly, he pulls back, his eyes still red-rimmed but holding a new, softer light as he looks at her. The corporate masks are gone, replaced by the weight of shared humanity. The terms of their "deal" now feel different, imbued with the silent understanding of his personal pain and her unexpected compassion.
Minjun clears his throat, a soft, almost shy sound, and glances down at his hands, then back to Chaeyoung. "Thank you, Miss Lee," he murmurs, his voice still a little hoarse. "That... it means a great deal, especially coming from you." He manages a small, genuine smile, utterly devoid of the calculated charm from moments before. The tension hasn't vanished, but it has transformed, replaced by a delicate understanding that hangs between them. Chaeyoung holds his hand firmly, her fingers itching to wipe the tears from his cheeks. “Please, it’s just Chaeyoung-ie…” she mutters, her voice getting tender. Minjun's eyes widen almost imperceptibly at the familiar, almost intimate, suffix, a new warmth spreading through them. “Thank you for being honest. I appreciate honest men, even if they’re scary like you.”
Minjun takes a shaky breath, the unfamiliar warmth of the informal nickname settling deep within him. He squeezes her hand gently before releasing it. The silence stretches, no longer tense with animosity, but with a complex mix of vulnerability and burgeoning respect. "Chaeyoung-ie," he repeats softly, testing the name on his tongue. "Perhaps... perhaps we can make this 'new venture' something we both can be proud of, a legacy that transcends simple profit."
Chaeyoung watches him, the lingering sting of his grief in her own eyes. The image of the powerful, ruthless CEO has shattered, replaced by a man driven by profound loss, its weight unimaginable for her. Her initial strategy of countering his every move now feels inadequate, perhaps even cruel. This isn't just about business; it's about a shared understanding, a fragile thread woven between them. The Salted Silk patent, the access to materials, the "lanes"—all of it now holds a different meaning.
Minjun offers her another small, almost hopeful smile, a stark contrast to the calculating grin he wore just moments before. The silence that follows is comfortable, filled with the unspoken weight of their shared understanding. The opulent office, once a battleground, now feels like a space where something entirely new has begun to take root. They stand there for a long moment, two former adversaries, now connected by grief, ambition, and the faint, unsettling taste of a future yet unwritten.
Chaeyoung holds his gaze. Not in a tense, hostile way, but rather a relaxed, cordial one. “I don’t mean no disrespect to Miss Park Sieun, but if you keep acting this kind and gentle, I might actually fall for you, Mr. Park.” Minjun chuckles, wiping his tears with the back of his hand. “Has anyone ever told you how funny you are, Chaeyoung-ah?” he quips, a genuine grin spreading across his face, delighted by her admission.
Chaeyoung grins back, the earlier tension completely dissolved. "Only when they're truly caught off guard," she replies, a playful glint in her eyes. "But it seems I've found my audience." The air in his office now feels strangely intimate, filled with the unexpected warmth of shared laughter. They stand there, the head of a titan and an aspiring empress, connected not by legal battles or corporate maneuvering, but by a sudden, profound understanding that transcends business.
Minjun shakes his head, still smiling. "Well, consider me thoroughly off guard," he says, a softness in his voice that was unimaginable an hour ago. He gestures back towards the door, acknowledging the need for Chaeyoung to continue her day as a CEO. “You’re free to leave, Chaeyoung-ah,” he says. Looking over her shoulder at the door, Chaeyoung’s forehead furrows; she thinks the door is still locked. “I thought you had me locked in here?” Minjun explodes in laughter, doubling over slightly, shaking his head out of pure mirth. “Oh, no, no. The lock is for keeping those outside, outside. Just turn the handle and you’ll be on your way.”
Chaeyoung can't help but crack a genuine smile herself, the lingering tension from earlier conversations finally dissipating completely. The sheer absurdity of her assumption, paired with Minjun's uninhibited laughter, creates a strange camaraderie. "Well, that's certainly one way to control the flow," she quips, a genuine lightness in her tone. Making her way to the doors, she turns the handle as he suggested, and they part for her. “Oh, you’re not lying.”
Minjun watches the doors close behind Chaeyoung, his laughter fading into a soft smile. He walks back to his desk, picking up the framed photo of Sieun. "She's an interesting one, isn't she, love?" he murmurs to the smiling face, his voice devoid of tears now, replaced by a calculating satisfaction. “But still; she’s not you.” He sets the photo down, his gaze falling on the Salted Silk pod lying forgotten on the table. The first step of his grand venture is complete; Azure is now precisely where he needs them to be.
-
A quarter later, the tension that once filled Minjun’s vast office has truly faded, replaced by a comfortable quiet. Chaeyoung sits across from his sprawling desk, not in the minimalist chair of their first encounter, but on a plush sofa, a half-empty mug of her favorite herbal tea steaming beside her. The Salted Silk patent now sits securely in Azure's vault. The "key account" status has indeed revolutionized their access to premium materials, and the legal battles are a distant memory.
Typically a whirlwind of activity, Minjun now leans back in his executive chair, a genuine, unburdened smile on his face as he listens to Chaeyoung recount a humorous struggle with a particularly stubborn supplier. The framed photo of Sieun still sits on his desk, but his gaze no longer carries the raw, aching pain. Instead, when he looks at it, there’s a quiet tenderness, a sense of peace that wasn't there before.
"So, you finally managed to get them to budge?" he asks, his voice warm, a stark contrast to the intimidating rumble she first knew. "You’re good at being stubborn, Chaeyoung-ah—and I mean that as a compliment." Chaeyoung laughs, a genuine, unrestrained sound that echoes softly in the room. "I learned from the best, oppa," she quips, her eyes twinkling. "Though I think my methods are slightly less... aggressive than yours."
Chaeyoung feels a warmth spread through her, and it’s not about the tea. "Good at being stubborn," she repeats softly, a soft smile playing on her lips. "I suppose that's true. Sometimes, you just know a fight is worth it, even if it seems impossible." Her gaze drifts, lingering on his hand resting casually on his desk, then flickers back to his eyes. “Okay, just so you know, I’m not going to fight Golden Leaf again,” she adds. Minjun bursts out laughing, shaking his head in amusement. “Yeah, let’s not do that again,” he agrees.
As the laughter dies down, the comfortable quiet deepens, filled with an unspoken awareness, a delicate thread forming between them that feels both fragile and profoundly real. "What about you, oppa?" she asks, her voice softer now. "What impossible fights are you still determined to win?" Minjun sighs, promptly reminded about a material that is quite difficult to get his hands on. “I mean, it’s not impossible necessarily, but importing Raspberry Ketone has been… quite challenging. If only we didn’t need it so bad.”
Chaeyoung's brow furrows in thought. Raspberry Ketone. A whisper of a substance, found only in trace amounts naturally. "Raspberry Ketone, huh?" she mouths, leaning slightly forward. “Let me guess; raspberry isn’t in season right now.” Minjun pouts as he nods, exaggerating his reactions a bit. “I guess we can go back to selling Salted Silk—oh, wait…” Her eyebrows rise at the mention of Salted Silk, her lips curving into a light smile. “Wait, Salted Silk is yours now, isn’t it,” he muses, a smile of similar lightness blooming on his face. Chaeyoung giggles, the warm and bright sound bouncing on the glass walls. “Hey, you gave it to me, remember? Something about making peace, if I recall correctly.”
Leaning back in their respective seats, their gaze drifts aimlessly, another silence settling in the room. “Oppa,” she calls to him, breaking the peace. “Why not try selling something Azure makes instead?” Staying silent, Minjun blinks a few times, thinking about the offer. “Something that Azure makes…” His gaze drifts to the ceiling, then back to her. “Such as what, Chaeyoung-ah?” She grabs her phone, checking the list of new items that Azure’s RND team has created recently. “Erm, I don’t know—graham crackers, maybe? The materials for this are easy to get, you know.”
Minjun's eyes, wide with thought, settle on Chaeyoung. "Graham crackers," he repeats, a slow, intriguing smile spreading across his face. The idea is so outside Golden Leaf's current trajectory, yet, coming from her, it sparks a genuine interest. "Can I have a sample, please? I think this might work out well for us." His emphasis on "us" implies a shared future, not just his own. With a smile, Chaeyoung reaches for her handbag, pulling out an amber bottle packed in a plastic bag. “100 milliliters of graham crackers flavor, all for you.”
Minjun takes the amber bottle, his fingers brushing hers as he accepts it. Uncapping it, he inhales deeply, a surprised hum escaping him. “Oh, this is… different,” he murmurs. “This is ready-to-use, right?” Chaeyoung nods to his question, but she also warns him that it might taste a bit chemical-like, since it’s quite fresh from the lab. “I mean, if it’s good, it’s good,” he says, grabbing an empty cartridge from the drawer of his desk. She keeps her eyes on him as he fills a pod to the brim, biting her lip to stifle a grin; she doesn’t want to celebrate too early.
Minjun inserts the pod into his device, taking a cautious draw. His forehead furrows slightly as he exhales, but he quickly relaxes into a surprised smile. “This is a good starting point, Chaeyoung-ah,” he confirms, never one to shy away from offering praise. “Not sweet enough for my taste, but still very good. How did your team make this, by the way?” Chaeyoung grins, her heart soaring with pride. Her R&D team has done a wonderful job, and to have the head of the giant praise them warms her heart. “I just told them to try mixing some flavors together, and they came up with some new flavors, including this one.”
“Oh? Some new flavors, you say?” he asks, already considering about commissioning Azure to produce stuff for Golden Leaf. Chaeyoung pads over to the sofa, fishing out some more bottles of newly created flavors, and returns to him with a handful of amber bottles, each one labeled concisely. “Oh, now we’re talking.” Minjun grabs a bottle—strawberry shortcake, the label says—and inspects it closely. “These samples are meant for a customer, but you’re more important than them.” As soon as those words leave her lips, Chaeyoung quickly looks away as heat rises on her cheeks, hiding behind the curtain of her hair. “Anyway, let me know what you think.”
Minjun's eyes flicker to her averted face, a knowing glint appearing in them, but he doesn't comment on her sudden shyness. He shakes the strawberry shortcake bottle gently, his focus returning to the task at hand, though a quiet amusement plays on his lips. "Strawberry shortcake," he repeats, pulling another empty cartridge from his drawer. "Let's see if your R&D team can make me blush, too, Chaeyoung-ah." He winks, a playful challenge in his tone, then proceeds to fill the pod, letting her anticipation build.
Minjun takes a slow puff, his eyes closing shut as he savors the flavor. It’s a touch sweeter than the graham crackers one, and combined with the hint of sourness, it’s surely something that is right up his alley. “Can you do a production trial?” he asks, his voice crisp with intent. “P-production trial? Like… right now?” she stammers, slightly taken aback by his sudden (yet gentle) demand. “Well, yes, please.”
Chaeyoung stares at him, her initial surprise quickly giving way to a thrill of excitement. A production trial? She doesn’t even know what her team is occupied with at the moment. It's exactly the kind of audacious move she's come to expect from him, now simply softened by his current demeanor. "Yes, oppa," she affirms, her voice gaining its usual confident edge. "Let’s do a production trial. How quickly do you need the first batch, and what specific quantities are you thinking?" Her eyes gleam with a mixture of challenge and shared ambition.
Minjun glances at the clock sitting on his desk. There’s half a workday left, and as much as he wants to test Azure, he doesn’t want to push too hard. “At least 25 kilograms. Of course, it goes without saying that I want them quality-tested and ready to be used immediately.” Chaeyoung swallows a gulp; 25 kilograms isn't what Azure usually does for a production trial; it's usually around 2 kilograms, 5 tops. Her eyes dart rapidly as she cycles through her team’s current projects, the inventory levels, and the lab’s open slots for quality testing. “Azure Taste Limited accepts the challenge, oppa,” she says firmly, putting her worries to the side. “You will have 25 kilograms of strawberry shortcake e-liquid at your front door before 7 p.m. tonight.”
Minjun's intense gaze softens slightly, a hint of something akin to awe flickering in his eyes. "7 p.m., you say?" he murmurs, a quiet respect in his tone. "Then you might want to call someone soon, sweetheart, because this man in front of you doesn’t like lateness, and those mixers aren't about to move on their own,” he adds. Chaeyoung blinks rapidly, the hint of his urgency settling in her mind, and runs to the sofa to grab her phone, frantically browsing through the contacts to find department heads.
Minjun watches her as she makes one call after another, giving brief yet concise orders to each person. “Cute,” he thinks, an adoring but regardful smile tugging at the corners of his lips. This isn't just about the flavor anymore; it's about the woman cranking the gears of production, thus bringing the flavor to life. When she finally drops the phone, a slight flush on her cheeks, he speaks. "That's quite a symphony you conduct, Chaeyoung-ah," he says, his voice laced with genuine awe, completely devoid of his usual corporate edge. “The things I do for you, oppa…” she muses, crashing into the sofa once more, her heart still racing with a mix of excitement and panic.
Chaeyoung closes her eyes for a moment, letting the adrenaline drain from her limbs. The weight of the 25-kilogram promise still hangs in the air, but Minjun's praise, his soft tone, and the easy way he now uses her informal name, settle something deep within her. She opens her eyes, meeting his warm gaze. No more is he a scary CEO that runs the industry; he’s more akin to a demanding customer, a confidant, or perhaps something more. The thought sends a new kind of warmth through her, one that has nothing to do with panic and everything to do with him.
Minjun watches her, a gentle smile playing on his lips as her eyes open, meeting his. He sees the softness there, the lingering wonder, and a warmth spreads through him that mirrors her own. "Everything alright, Chaeyoung-ah?" he asks, his voice low, filled with a gentle understanding. He doesn't press, just holds her gaze, letting the new, delicate understanding settle between them. The office, usually a place of sterile deals, now hums with a different kind of energy. “If you need fresh air, that door is open,” Minjun adds, pointing to the tinted glass door to the balcony.
Chaeyoung holds his gaze for another moment, feeling the undeniable pull of his presence. The offer of fresh air is tempting, but for now, the quiet intimacy of the office, filled with this new energy, feels enough. "I think I'm alright now, oppa," she murmurs, a soft smile gracing her lips. "Just... processing. Twenty-five kilograms of strawberry shortcake e-liquid by 7 p.m. It's a lot to process. I mean, the recipe was only validated yesterday.” A chuckle escapes her lips, as she thinks about how bold he is to buy something so new, so much.
-
Chaeyoung and Minjun sit together at the loading dock gate, their legs dangling off the edge. Minjun scrolls through his phone, not catching the way she keeps biting her lips, anxiously waiting for Azure’s truck to enter through Golden Leaf’s front gate. It is only when he glances at her that he sees the signs of nervousness; tense posture, lip-biting, and long gaze. A sense of protectiveness washes over him, but Minjun quickly diverts his attention back to his phone. “She’ll be okay,” he thinks.
Minjun carefully places his phone beside him on the concrete. "Something wrong, Chaeyoung-ah?" he asks, his voice soft, cutting through her anxious thoughts. He doesn't need to ask if it's about the delivery; he knows. Chaeyoung sighs, letting some of the tension drain from her shoulders. "It's a big order for something so new, oppa," she admits, her voice a low murmur. "I just... I really want it to be perfect for you."
Minjun's gaze warms further, understanding the unspoken weight of her desire to impress him. Scooting closer to Chaeyoung, he musters up the courage to wrap an arm around her, offering comfort. “It’s the effort that counts, sweetheart,” he whispers, his tone warm in her ear. “Even if the e-liquid isn’t commercial-ready right away, we can tweak the recipe and try again.”
Chaeyoung leans against him, resting her head on his shoulder, finding solace amid nervousness. “You know, sometimes I wish we had been friends from the start. I wish I hadn’t fought you over Salted Silk. I wish—” Minjun places a finger on her lips, tenderly deadening her voice. “This is how it’s meant for us, sweetheart,” he murmurs, leaving no room for her to rebut.
A bright white truck, emblazoned with Azure Taste Limited's subtle logo, finally turns the corner and rumbles towards Golden Leaf's front gate. Chaeyoung lifts her head from his shoulder, her eyes still soft as they meet his. The hum of the engine, the squeal of the brakes—oh, it's the beautiful sound of a delivered promise. Minjun squeezes her shoulder gently, his gaze filled with shared anticipation, no longer just for the product, but for the future they are undeniably building together.
The truck grinds to a halt before them, its engine still humming. A Golden Leaf security guard approaches, ready to open the gate. Minjun rises, offering Chaeyoung a hand as she stands. "Let's see the fruits of your team’s labor, Chaeyoung-ah," he states, a note of genuine excitement in his voice. As the gate slides open, the truck backs into the loading dock, ready to offload the 25 kilograms of strawberry shortcake e-liquid.
Standing next to each other on the side, Chaeyoung’s fingers snake around his own, seeking comfort to calm her racing heart. “You’re okay. You’re totally okay,” he whispers, squeezing her hand firmly. She nods slowly, taking his affirmation to heart, but the urge to keep biting her lips proves irresistible. “Good or bad, we’ll think about it together,” he adds, offering closure to Chaeyoung.
The Azure trucker grabs a 30-kilogram jerrycan from the truck, placing it on the concrete floor before the two CEOs. “I was told to give these things to you, Miss Lee,” he says, handing a folder, presumably containing quality testing results, and a commercial-sized, 100-milliliter bottle of e-liquid. After handing those items over, the trucker scratches his head, seemingly puzzled about something. “Miss Lee, pardon my curiosity, but… why the rush order, and why did no one give me proof of delivery to be signed?”
Chaeyoung smiles, squeezing Minjun’s hand stoutly as she addresses the trucker’s question. “This man right here wanted to test us from all kinds of aspects, Mr. Koo,” she tilts her head towards Minjun, as if shifting the blame to him, “as for the proof of delivery, I think it’s an oversight, but we can fix that tomorrow. You’re free to head back.”
As Mr. Koo retreats to his truck, Minjun's gaze locks onto the jerrycan. He kneels, the weight of the container undeniable, and with a grunt, manages to pry open the cap. A rich, sweet aroma, unmistakably strawberry shortcake, wafts into the evening air. He dips a clean, sterile stick into the liquid, brings it to his nose. Chaeyoung watches him, her breath held, every muscle in her body taut with anticipation.
Minjun closes his eyes, inhaling deeply, letting the complex notes of strawberry and cream fill his senses. A slow, beatific smile spreads across his face, not the calculated grin of the CEO, but the unburdened joy of someone who has found exactly what they've been searching for. He opens his eyes, a glint of pure triumph in them as he looks at Chaeyoung. "This," he murmurs, his voice filled with reverence, wiggling the smelling stick in front of her eyes, "this isn't just good, Chaeyoung-ah. This is the next big thing—the next Salted Silk, perhaps.”
Chaeyoung's taut muscles finally relax, a wave of profound relief washing over her as Minjun's words sink in. A warm, triumphant smile matches his own. "The next Salted Silk, oppa?" she muses, her voice soft with pride. "That's quite the compliment." She steps dangerously close to him, the gap between their bodies barely able to fit a sheet of paper. Chaeyoung asks, “You’re not playing with me, are you?” Shaking his head firmly, he answers, “No, not at all. I meant every word I said.”
Chaeyoung holds his gaze, a quiet awe blossoming within her. His sincerity, his close presence, the weight of his words – it all solidifies something profound. The cool evening breeze ruffles her hair, but the warmth between them is undeniable. She simply nods, a soft, contented smile on her face. The new flavor, the successful trial, the enormous potential... it all pales slightly in comparison to the man standing so close, the one who no longer plays games, the one who sees her, truly sees her. The future stretches before them, no longer a battlefield, but a shared, exciting horizon.
-
A quarter later, the strawberry shortcake e-liquid is not just a success; it's a phenomenon. It dominates the market, its unique, natural flavor profile captivating consumers across the world, not just Asia. Sales figures for both Golden Leaf and Azure Taste Limited surge, shattering all previous records. The "next Salted Silk" has truly arrived, and then some. It’s particularly strange for Azure; they have never seen numbers this big.
Chaeyoung’s eyes remain glued to her tablet as her Continental takes her to Minjun’s house. “That forecast graph looks like a mountain,” she thinks, her finger tracing a line along the graph. “And to think that Azure is in the center of all this…” Her gaze leaves the screen as she leans back in the back seat. “Is everything okay, Miss Lee?” her chauffeur asks, glancing at her through the rear-view mirror. “It is. If anything, everything is great,” she states, no hesitation in her voice.
The Continental glides silently through the opulent gates of Minjun's private estate, a place Chaeyoung has only visited a handful of times, always for a high-stakes, exclusive meeting. Tonight, however, feels different. As the car pulls to a stop, Minjun stands waiting at the entrance of his grand house. A casual shirt, the sleeves folded to his elbows, replaces his usual sharp suits, and a soft, welcoming smile is already gracing his lips. He extends a hand to her as she steps out, his eyes warm with an unspoken congratulations that goes far beyond just business.
Chaeyoung takes his outstretched hand, her fingers brushing against the warmth of his skin. The subtle contact sends a pleasant shiver through her. "Oppa," she murmurs, her voice soft with a mixture of awe and contentment as she takes in his relaxed form. The scent of his subtle cologne, familiar from their close encounters, now seems to linger more intimately in the evening air. He squeezes her hand gently, a silent acknowledgment of their shared journey and the profound success that now links them.
“Tell your chauffeur to leave you with me, sweetheart,” Minjun mutters, an invitation to a special night lying beneath his voice. Chaeyoung nods, signaling to her chauffeur to leave her at Minjun’s estate. As the car disappears into the night, she turns to face him again. “I’m yours now,” she whispers back.
Minjun's smile deepens, a profound tenderness replacing the earlier gleam in his eyes. He laces his fingers through hers, the warmth of their joined hands anchoring them both. "Come inside, sweetheart," he murmurs, his voice a low, inviting hum. He guides her across the grand threshold, the heavy door closing behind them with a soft click, sealing them within the intimate warmth of his home. The quiet opulence of the foyer feels less imposing now, less a symbol of power and more a backdrop for the shared, undeniable connection that pulses between them.
Chaeyoung’s eyes land on the massive, plush sofa in the center of his grand living room. “Can we sit there, please?” she asks, pointing at the sofa, eager to sink herself into it. With a small nod, Minjun leads her to the pointed furniture, letting her sit down first before settling next to her. He turns to her, his hand gently finding hers again, lacing their fingers together. His thumb softly traces the back of her hand, a simple gesture that speaks volumes.
She leans closer to Minjun, to the point where he can feel her breathing on his face. “Kiss me, oppa.” Without hesitation, he gently takes her lips, taking her invitation to intimacy right away. Closing their eyes, Minjun and Chaeyoung stay connected, filling the air with a charged intimate tension. When the kiss eventually breaks, both are left breathless; gone are the CEOs—they are simply Lee Chaeyoung and Park Minjun, two souls finding their way to each other.
Minjun's eyes flutter open, dark with a shared emotion, as he rests his forehead against hers. "Chaeyoung-ah…" he breathes, the name a soft prayer on his lips. His hand moves from hers to cup her cheek, his thumb gently stroking her skin. “This feels right, doesn’t it, oppa?” He nods to her question, the small gesture carrying more weight than any words he can say now. The world outside, the new success they have built together, fades into insignificance. All that exists is the soft warmth of her against him, the gentle rhythm of their breaths, and the undeniable truth of this moment.
Chaeyoung crashes into him once more, claiming his lips as hers, pouring everything she has into the connection. “I… I want to be with you, oppa. Not just as a business partner, but as a partner in life,” she confesses. Minjun takes a deep breath as her words settle in his mind, but before he can say anything else, she presses on. “Would you let me take the space in your heart that Miss Park Sieun once owned?”
Minjun's eyes hold hers as he rests his forehead against hers. "No one could ever replace my lovely Sieun, sweetheart," he murmurs, his voice thick with the enduring grief. "But you, my incredible Lee Chaeyoung... you don't need to replace her. You've carved out a space in my heart that is uniquely yours. A space that makes me want to live again—truly live. Not just for the past, but for a future with you." He pulls her into another deep, reaffirming kiss, sealing his words.
When the kiss finally breaks, they remain intertwined, foreheads resting together, breathing each other in. The silence of the grand living room wraps around them, not empty but rich with unspoken promises and the gentle thump of two hearts beating in sync. Chaeyoung lifts a hand, tracing the line of Minjun's jaw, a soft, amazed smile blooming on her lips. "A future with you, oppa," she whispers, the words tasting like hope.
Pulling away, Minjun’s palm lands on her knee, softly caressing it. “May I entertain you with some shrimp carbonara fettuccine?” he asks, a hint of excitement woven in his voice, seemingly eager to flex his cooking skills. Chaeyoung giggles; shrimp carbonara fettuccine sounds heavenly to her rumbling tummy. “Yes, you may, oppa. Please make it spicy too.” His eyebrow rises at her request. “Spicy, you say? How spicy?” She leans closer towards him, the idea of personal space non-existent. “As spicy as tonight will be.”
Minjun's eyebrow remains raised, a slow, knowing smile spreading across his face. "As spicy as tonight will be," he echoes, his voice a low, husky rumble that sends another shiver down her spine—this one is purely of anticipation. He squeezes her knee gently before pushing himself off the sofa. "Consider it done, sweetheart. Come, let's see if your palate can handle Golden Leaf's executive chef's spiciest creation." He extends a hand, inviting her to join him, his eyes sparkling with a promise of culinary, and perhaps romantic, adventure.
Chaeyoung settles on a stool at the kitchen, her hands resting on the clean marble countertop, while Minjun begins to prepare the fettuccine dish. She watches on silently, as if stuck in a stupor, as he moves around the kitchen with practiced fluidity. “Was he a chef in a past life or something?” she wonders quietly. “You know, I’ve always liked cooking for those I hold dear,” he says, as if able to read her mind. “Seeing people enjoy my cooking brings me joy.”
Chaeyoung’s ears perk up like an excited puppy. “Those you hold dear, oppa? Am I part of that exclusive circle now?” she muses, a flush creeping up her cheeks at the idea of being held dear. Minjun glances at her over his shoulder, a small grin peeking out the side. “You are, and once you're in, you can't get out—well, unless you do something very, very… uh, stupid.” She laughs, the sound filling the spacious kitchen. “Like stealing your most precious IP?” Minjun laughs with her, the clash over Salted Silk a distant memory. “Yes, like stealing my most precious IP.”
Soon, two plates of shrimp carbonara fettuccine lands on the counter, the smell of garlic and butter poignant. “I put 4 bird’s eye chilies in yours. I hope that's spicy enough,” he says, his gaze still locked on her plate. Holding his chin with her fingertips, Chaeyoung turns his face towards her—wait, since when is her cleavage exposed? “I can handle spice, oppa, and I'm not talking about chilies.”
Minjun's eyes widen slightly at her directness, the playful challenge in her gaze mirroring his own. A slow, consuming heat rises within him, far more potent than any chili. His hand, initially resting idly on the counter, slides towards hers, his thumb brushing against the soft skin of her wrist. "Oh, you're not talking about chilies, are you, sweetheart?" he murmurs, his voice filled with a desire he no longer bothers to hide. He leans in, closing the remaining distance between them, his gaze dropping to her lips.
Chaeyoung's breath hitches, her eyes fluttering closed as Minjun's lips finally claim hers. The kiss is deep, urgent, a declaration of all the unspoken words and desires that have simmered between them for months. His hand tightens on her wrist, pulling her closer until no space remains. When they eventually break apart, both are breathless. The scent of garlic and chili on the air are now mingling with something far sweeter and more intoxicating.
Minjun pulls away, a triumphant, tender smile gracing his lips. "That’s definitely spicier than any chili," he murmurs, his voice raw with emotion. “But whatever it is we’re about to do tonight can’t be done on an empty stomach.” A fond, knowing smile tugs at the corners of Chaeyoung’s lips. “I know, oppa, and just so you know, I want to be treated with grace and tenderness.”
Minjun's triumphant smile mellows into something deeply tender. He reaches out, gently brushing a stray strand of hair from her face, his touch light and reverent. "Grace and tenderness," he repeats softly, his gaze holding hers. "You deserve nothing less, my heart." He then gestures to the plates of pasta. "Come, let's get some warmth in that stomach of yours. We have all night for... everything else." His eyes twinkle, a playful promise of the passion to come, wrapped in careful respect.
As they begin to eat the fragrant pasta, the air between them remains charged with that electric awareness. The meal is delicious, a testament to Minjun's unexpected talent, but it feels like a prelude. Once their plates are clear, Minjun reaches across the counter, taking her hand. "The living room, perhaps?" he suggests, his thumb gently caressing her palm. Chaeyoung shakes her head; she wants something more… private. “The bedroom?” he suggests once more, looking for a yes from her. “The bedroom, yes,” she confirms, leaning forward a bit, giving him a peek into her exposed chest. “Grace and tenderness, remember?”
He rises from his stool, pulling her gently from hers, their joined hands never breaking contact. He doesn't need to ask again; the answer is clear in her gaze, in the slight flush on her cheeks, in the undeniable pull that now binds them as he turns and leads her deeper into the quiet vastness of his home.
A shiver, this one purely out of exhilaration, runs down Chaeyoung's spine as Minjun leads her towards what feels like the sacred, yet hallowed, sanctuary of his bedroom. Her mind races with all kinds of thoughts; she is about to enter the room where Minjun and Sieun have shared nights of raw, unbridled passion. The idea that she’s replacing Sieun is almost unsettling.
The door looms, dark wood against the soft light of the hallway. As Minjun's fingers tighten around hers, Chaeyoung's steps falter for just a moment. She looks up at him, her eyes wide with a sudden, raw vulnerability. "Oppa," she whispers, her voice barely audible. "Park Sieun..." She doesn’t need to finish the sentence; the unspoken question, the ghost of comparison, hangs heavy in the air between them.
Minjun's gaze, usually so sure, softens even further, acknowledging the profound weight of her hesitation. “No, baby, this isn’t about replacing her with you. This is about us, about the future we’re building together,” he assures her, pulling her into his arms. “I think… I think my Sieun would want me to look forward and move on, so please help me.”
Chaeyoung melts into his embrace, her arms tightening around his waist. The lingering doubt from Sieun's ghost begins to dissipate, replaced by the profound warmth of Minjun's honesty and his raw plea. She rests her head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. "I will, oppa," she whispers, her voice firm, filled with a love that now understands the depths of his. "I'll help you. Every step of the way." Together, they take that first step towards the bedroom door, no longer a sanctuary of the past, but a threshold to their future.
The soft light of the bedroom spills into the hallway as Minjun pushes the door open further, holding it for her. He steps back, allowing her to enter first, a silent gesture of respect and invitation. Chaeyoung walks into the room, her eyes taking in the subdued elegance, the large, inviting bed. She turns to him, a soft, confident smile on her lips, and reaches for his hand again, pulling him fully into the room. The door clicks shut behind them, enclosing them in a private world where Lee Chaeyoung and Park Minjun exist as who they truly are, no façade of professionality in between.
Chaeyoung pulls him closer, her free hand coming up to rest on his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart. “Oppa…” she mutters, her eyes fluttering close, beckoning him to fully close the gap. Without a word said, Minjun leans down, capturing her lips with his in an unhurried kiss, unattached to the world beyond these walls.
As the kiss deepens, she takes his hand, guiding it towards her bountiful bosom. “Mm…” Chaeyoung softly moans into the kiss, savoring the sensation his fingers are offering. They break the kiss momentarily, looking into each other’s eyes. “You like my assets, oppa?” she teases, pressing her body into him. “I do,” he whispers back. “You’re perfect, baby…”
Minjun's fingers gently explore, eliciting another soft gasp from Chaeyoung. He leans down, tracing the curve of her neck with his lips, his breath warm against her skin. "Absolutely perfect," he adds, the words vibrating against her as he lifts her into his arms. She wraps her legs around his waist, instinctively clinging to him as he takes a step, then another, moving them closer to the inviting expanse of the bed.
Minjun settles on the edge of the bed, keeping Chaeyoung seated on his lap, her red cheeks a proof of her unspoken desires. He sneaks his hands to the second button of her blouse, his gaze meeting hers, searching for permission. “Yes, you may,” she breathes, knowing what is on his mind. One button after the other swiftly gets undone, thus allowing a glimpse into her physique. “Goodness me...” Minjun is in awe at the sight before him. “You’re absolutely beautiful, baby…”
Minjun's fingers continue their gentle work, pushing the soft fabric aside as his eyes devour the sight before him. His gaze, filled with reverence, slowly travels upward, meeting her own. Chaeyoung's hand, which had been resting lightly on his shoulder, now reaches up, her fingers threading into his hair, pulling him closer. "This is me, and I’m yours and only yours," she murmurs, her voice husky, a playful challenge in her eyes that promises further submission.
Minjun's eyes darken, reflecting the fervent desire in hers. He doesn't need to speak; her words, her touch, her gaze, convey everything. He leans in, closing the final distance, and captures her lips in a deep, consuming kiss that tastes of promise and absolute surrender. “Baby,” he calls to her, his whispered voice husky. “Can you do something for me?” Chaeyoung takes a deep breath, bracing to hear her first order from him. “Say it, oppa. What do you need from me?” Taking her hand, Minjun guides it towards his growing erection. “Can you help me… get ready?”
Chaeyoung's gaze drops to his hand on hers, then follows to where he guides it. A blush deepens on her cheeks, but her eyes sparkle with understanding and eager consent. Without hesitation, her fingers curl around him, feeling the warmth and impressive size. "Anything for you, oppa," she murmurs, her voice a low, confident whisper.
Chaeyoung sinks into her knees, feeling the soft carpet through the fabric of her trousers. Without breaking eye contact, she swiftly undoes his belt and zipper, sliding Minjun’s pants down his legs. “Oh my…” Slowly, hesitantly, she reaches for his manhood, the shape and size apparent from the bulge on his boxers. She looks up at him again and asks, “May I, oppa?” At his approving nod, Chaeyoung lowers his boxers, not bothering to take them off entirely; she’s stunned by the sight of his asset.
Not wasting time, Chaeyoung parts her lips, taking the first few centimeters of him in her mouth. Minjun inhales sharply at the first contact, his breath catching at his throat. “Oh my God…” he mumbles. “You could’ve warned me first, baby, but… please go on.” Relaxing her muscles, she tries to take him deeper, fighting the reflexive urge to gag. His breathing begins to pick up tempo; it’s been so long since someone has touched him like this.
Minjun's hand, which has been resting on her shoulder, tightens, his fingers subtly guiding her head, urging her deeper. A low, guttural groan escapes him, a sound of pure, unbridled pleasure that vibrates through her. Chaeyoung focuses, pushing past her own discomfort, her movements becoming more confident, more rhythmic. The taste, the feel, the sheer intimacy of it all washes over her, a thrilling tide.
Chaeyoung closes her eyes, letting her movements be guided by his hand planted on the back of her head. At every pass, she moans around him, the vibration sending shivers down his spine. “Baby…” he whispers, his breath quick and ragged, and she’s quick to meet his gaze. “Goodness me, you’re… amazing.” She offers a wink before taking more of his length, making him groan her name. “You’re… killing me, Lee Chaeyoung.”
Eventually, Minjun’s hips buck, a desperate, uncontrolled rhythm taking over his body. His fingers clench tightly in Chaeyoung’s hair, pulling her head slightly back as a final, raw groan tears from his throat. A powerful tremor shakes his entire frame, and he collapses back onto the bed, utterly spent, his breathing ragged. Chaeyoung pulls away, breathless, looking up at him as he lies there, wiping the remnants of his release off her lips. Curious, she takes a lick; Minjun tastes so… manly.
A soft chuckle rumbles in Minjun’s chest as he catches the look on Chaeyoung’s face. He reaches for her, pulling her gently up so she’s lying beside him on the bed, his arm coming around her waist. Chaeyoung rests her head on his shoulder, listening to the steadying beat of his heart. The silence that settles between them is comfortable, filled with the warmth of shared release and the undeniable, tangible proof of their newly forged intimacy.
“That was just the opening act, though, right?” Minjun chuckles at her question, pressing a fleeting peck to her forehead. “It was. It was quite… explosive, might I add,” he adds. A satisfied grin blooms on her face, proud of herself for her performance. Her hand slides from his chest to his crotch, her fingers brushing against his manhood, the tip shiny from his earlier release. “Come on, oppa. Let’s get ready for the main event,” she urges, stroking him to full hardness again.
Minjun groans, a sound of pure pleasure rumbling in his chest as her fingers work their magic. His body responds instantly, hardening beneath her touch. He pulls her closer, shifting his weight. "You’re not one for intermissions, are you, baby?" he murmurs, his voice thick with raw desire. He lifts her, repositioning her over him, their gazes locked, ready for the main event to truly begin. “Go on, then; you know what to do.”
She lifts herself off his lap, quickly shedding every layer of clothes from her body, tossing them over her head, not bothered by the mess. Minjun watches her undress with a dark, excited gleam in his eyes, his cock pointing straight to the ceiling, ready for action. “Wow…” he murmurs, taking in the sight of her shape; she’s simply breathtaking. “You’re so beautiful, baby.” A flush creeps up her face at his admission, turning her cheeks red hot. “Thank you, oppa. You’ve said that before, remember?”
“Anyway…” Chaeyoung’s eyes sparkle with mischief as she positions herself over Minjun’s rigid length, her slick folds teasing the sensitive head. She takes a moment to admire the sight of him, spread out beneath her, his chest heaving with anticipation. “Like this, handsome?” she asks, her voice a sultry purr as she slowly sinks down, taking him inch by delicious inch until she's fully seated on his thick cock. “Mm, so big and hard...” She sighs, her inner walls clenching around him as she starts to move, rolling her hips in slow, deliberate circles. She sets a leisurely pace, savoring the sensation of being filled to the brim by her new lover's potent manhood.
Minjun’s hands instinctively rise, gripping her hips, his fingers digging in slightly as she rolls. A deep, guttural moan rumbles from his chest, a sound that vibrates through Chaeyoung and eggs her on. His head tilts back against the pillows, eyes squeezed shut, a look of pure, unadulterated bliss etched on his face. "Yes, baby… just like that," he rasps, his voice thick with raw desire. He begins to thrust up, meeting her every downward slide, finding a powerful, intoxicating rhythm together.
Minjun groans, his fingers digging into Chaeyoung’s hips as she sets a relentless pace, her velvety walls gripping him like a vice. The sight of her bouncing on his cock, her tits swaying with each thrust, is almost too much to bear. “Fuck, baby, you're killing me.” He pants, his vision blurring at the edges as he struggles to maintain control. “So hot, so tight... You were made for me, weren't you?” Desperate to prolong the pleasure, Minjun reaches between us to rub circles around Chaeyoung’s sensitive nub, hoping to push her over the edge and into a screaming orgasm. His own climax builds rapidly, threatening to overtake him at any moment.
A low cry escapes Chaeyoung as Minjun's fingers work their magic, sending waves of pleasure through her that mirror the mounting tension within him. She clenches around him, her hips bucking wildly, abandoning all control. "Oppa!" she screams, her voice raw, as an intense wave of pure sensation washes over her, pulling a guttural roar from Minjun as he, too, shudders into his release. His body goes rigid, a final, powerful tremor shaking his frame, and they collapse onto the bed, utterly spent, their bodies slick with sweat, the last echoes of pleasure vibrating between them.
Chaeyoung moans as his hot release pools in her core, filling her to the brim, a testament to his claim over her. “I… I’m sorry; I should’ve asked first,” he breathes, regret swirling within him for being careless. “Nonsense,” she rebuts, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. “This cannot be any more perfect.” She shifts slightly, eliciting a deep groan from Minjun, and looks right into his eyes. “You’re perfect for me, Park Minjun.”
Minjun's arm tightens around her, pulling her closer against his damp skin. He presses his face into her hair, inhaling her scent, a soft sigh escaping him. The grand bedroom, once a symbol of his solitary world, now hums with the warmth of their shared presence. They lie intertwined, the steady beat of his heart against her ear a comforting lullaby, proof that they are truly, finally, home in each other’s arms. The night stretches before them, no longer a series of acts, but a continuous, tender embrace.
-
Hours later, the first hint of dawn paints the vast room in hues of soft grey and rose. Chaeyoung stirs in Minjun's arms, nestled perfectly against him, a warmth spreading through her that has nothing to do with the sun. She opens her eyes to find him already awake, watching her, a profound tenderness in his gaze. "Good morning, my heart," he murmurs, his voice still heavy with sleep. “Mm, good morning, my king,” she replies, stretching languidly next to him.
Minjun's arm tightens around her waist, pulling her even closer. He presses a soft kiss to her temple, savoring the feeling of her warmth against him. "Sleep well, my love?" he asks, his voice a low rumble in his chest. Chaeyoung hums in agreement, tracing patterns on his bare arm. ”It was the best sleep I’ve had in a hot minute,” she muses, her mind going back to the sleepless nights when they were fighting over Salted Silk. “And the fact that you filled me to the brim… it’s like getting a hug from the inside.”
Minjun chuckles softly, pulling her even tighter against him, burying his face deeper into her hair. "A hug from the inside, huh?" he murmurs, a contented smile in his voice. He shifts slightly, reaching for her hand, lacing their fingers together. "I like the sound of that, baby. If you need another hug, just let me know; I’ll fill you until overflowing." Chaeyoung smacks him on the chest, more playful than harmful, giggling out of pure mirth at his teasing offer. “That’s a generous offer, but I think I’d give it some time before we go again.” She shifts in his embrace, her lips brushing against his earlobe. “If we’re lucky, maybe my belly will rise after a bit of rest.”
Minjun freezes, his laughter dying in his throat. His head lifts from her hair, and he pulls back just enough to look into her eyes, searching for a hint of jest, but finds only earnestness mixed with playful hope. His breath hitches. "Your... your belly?" he whispers, the words barely audible, a profound mix of disbelief and overwhelming joy dawning on his face. She smiles from ear to ear, her eyes creasing into half-moons. “My belly, yes. I will give you heirs—that’s my promise to you.”
Minjun’s disbelief slowly morphs into a radiating warmth that fills his entire being. A single tear escapes the corner of his eye, betraying the depth of his emotion. He pulls her even closer, a fierce, protective embrace that speaks more than words ever could. "Heirs," he breathes, the word a sacred vow on his lips. "With you, my love, yes—a thousand times, yes." He cups her face, his thumbs gently caressing her cheeks, and pulls her into a kiss that promises a lifetime of love and the joyous chaos of a family built together.
“For the last time,” huffs Seoyeon, tone playful but showing a tinge of disdain toward her friends, bothered by their insistence. Raising her voice through the ear-thumping club music, she says, “I’m not interested.”
“Oh come on, don’t be so cold.” Yooyeon replies, bumping shoulder to shoulder, poking at her sternness. “You haven’t gone out with us once the entire time. We’re headed back to Korea tomorrow, mind you. We don’t know when we’ll have another opportunity to spend time like this together.”
“Okay, and what about it? Someone has to be the adult around here.” Seoyeon remains uptight, crossing her arms and shaking her head. If not for the neon lights gleaming throughout the place, her face would be seen lit bright red with rage. “I’m down to follow you around and maybe have a drink or two, but please leave me out of your bullshit.”
“Bullshit? You mean us flirting with the guys here?” Xinyu points at one such man, in a ragged business suit, clearly a few bottles in and on the verge of falling over. “They won’t remember a damn thing when they wake up.”
“And what if they do remember? What about the rest of us then? Have you considered what you’re doing can harm our career, hell our personal lives?”
“Hasn’t done anything, so I think we’re good,” Xinyu fires back, as if it were a gotcha moment. Drinking another round to prove her point, she adds, “Look, I’m saying you should have fun every now and then. A little party never killed nobody, after all.”
“I don’t think that saying is true these days,” replies Seoyeon, tilting her head, unconvinced. She rises from her seat to leave, unwilling to hear any more of her friends’ yapping. “Like I said, I’m not interested. Just call when you need me to take you home.”
As she walks away from her two friends, disappearing into the energetic crowd, Xinyu and Yooyeon stare at each other, shrugging their shoulders before returning to the club’s backrooms.
—————
“Look, for the last time, I’m not interested,” you tell your friend, looking left and right. Clubs have never been your favorite place nor have parties been your favorite pastime. Nevertheless, you’re still accompanying a few workmates there because of bullshit office culture and so-called teambuilding. For a weekday, the energy is surprisingly electric. “I don’t mind having one drink, but I’d rather be home right now over anything, so—”
“Dude, this is where all the rich people and celebrities hang out. No way on earth you’re not going,” your friend tells you, as if the last thing you wanted was to share the same space with more men and women in the upper tax bracket when you’re not even making a tenth of their monthly income. Nevermind the fact that most of you unceremoniously decided on this excursion at the eleventh hour—you’re all still in your office attire, evidently worn out and in need of a laundry service. “I mean, there are some gachas nearby, since you seem to like them a lot—”
“Hey. I haven’t bought a gacha in two weeks!” you fire back, but your reply is drowned out in a sea of colleague laughs and party music.
You can only shake your head and sigh, taking an embarrassing defeat on your character.
As you scan your surroundings, you can’t help but recognize that you’d fit right in with all the groggy strangers and passed out drunkards filling out the seats and the corners of the club. Your sleep-deprived brain might as well be a few rounds in with how overworked and pushed it has been with all the overtimes, assignments, and take-home work you’d been receiving. All that for the bare minimum with no consideration for promotion nor any hints indicating such. But to be fair, you’d only been around for a handful of months; most of your peers have found their careers stuck for up to years.
And based on some of the other salarymen you’ve seen knocked unconscious, they seemingly feel the same way. So you can conclude that it’s only right that you should drink your worries and sorrows away, at least for tonight.
It doesn’t take long for jovial merrymaking and intoxication to set in. You swear that your coworkers emptied out two buckets full of alcohol bottles in mere minutes, with plenty of liquor in great abundance to pass around. It gets to a point where you have to take at least one.
And so you do—in tiny, barely recognizable sips to blend in.
Some of your colleagues are singing their hearts out, others end up on the dance floor, but most fall head first onto the table, completely inebriated. Their minds filled with poison, your cue to weasel out of there.
Making your way through the crowd, unsure of where the entrance and exit was, you head down some steps, uncaringly bumping every person that passes by you and vice versa. You’re one bad move away from an incident. It could be anyone.
It ends up catching up to you.
“Oh!” A frantic shout rips through your ears and to everyone nearby, sending you careening onto the floor—except it’s your body crouching by impulse. Glancing to your side, a phone falls onto the stairsteps with a not so audible thump. Your natural instinct is to grab it, while the party goes on without a care.
The person turns around and immediately realizes what’s happened. Reaching out her hand, it intertwines with yours. Your eyes meet. An air of familiarity flows between you two. It’s a slow-motion, time-freezing scene straight out of any cliche drama—the ones you’d make fun of for being too unrealistic and predictable. And now, you’re put in that exact same scenario. Not a soul could have written your story any better.
Looking into her eyes, you’re taken back to not that long ago, at the tail end of a busy day like this one:
—————
As the clock struck the top of the hour before midnight, a command blared through the subway station speakers, telling all passengers that there’s only 30 minutes remaining before all services will come to an end. And yet, even this late, every terminal is brimming with life.
All the more reason to rush through the crowd and head home. Another overtime shift in the books and you’re running on fumes to get back to your apartment. You’re dead set on crashing as soon as you hit the bed or the couch, whichever is the first you see.
You barely make it, narrowly entering the train mere seconds before the doors close. Before you’re forced to stay the night in some convenience store to get some semblance of sleep.
Inside, the carriage is filled with people from all walks of life, from single parents and families with their children, businessmen from salarymen to executives, to partygoers going club hopping. The city never sleeps. Like everyone else, you occupy yourself in your own earphones and music to get by until you reach your stop.
Shuffling your way out the train and down the steps, you recall this exact moment. It should have been an afterthought, but you still remember everything vividly: a bump—a borderline tackle—that sends you tripping down the stairs. No wonder that scream sounded so familiar.
Instead of a phone, it's a patchwork of documents and paperwork flying in every direction. The girl frantically grabs for whatever she can retrieve while you recover the rest. She’s quite apologetic doing so, repeatedly saying ‘Sorry’ in the tiniest voice imaginable, that you overlook how she’s got all your files mixed up with no cohesion or continuity whatsoever.
“God, I’m so—so—sorry—” she mutters, clutching the last of your paper before straightening the pile she collected and handing them back to you. Bowing her head, she follows with: “I really am sorry. I was in such a rush to get home and—”
But you never hear the rest of it, because you promptly take the papers back and hurry out of there.
—————
Deja vu is working overtime.
Your fingers are slowly pointing at each other, mouths slowly gaping, eyes also widening, stunned speechless. The girl is first to speak:
“It’s you again.”
And to be quite honest, you don’t have a response to that.
“You’re the guy I ran into at the train station last week,” she recalls, her eyes widening more, her shocked expression turning into a look of genuine delight, like you’re distant friends reconnecting after a long time apart: “I didn’t think I’d see you here.”
Glancing left and right, you scramble for a quick answer. It comes out awkward: “Y--yeah. Me neither. That’s crazy.”
“Small world, huh?” she quips, quickly grabbing her phone off the floor and pocketing it. “Didn’t I also see you the morning after?”
“Morning after?” you ask, puzzled by what seems to be a second previous encounter.
“Yeah. I was going to the convenience store for some coffee and I saw you across the street,” she says, grinning from ear to ear. “You were still wearing the same suit you wore the night before.”
Knowing that you did, in fact, crash onto the couch once you got home and went to work the next day without changing clothes proves to be embarrassing. You get completely flustered. What a spectacular first impression.
“I—yeah, I—I guess I did,” you reply, scratching your head, unable to look her directly in the eye in light of this revelation. You can only chalk it up to one thing. “Work.”
The girl laughs, covering her mouth. “Can relate.”
“So,” you swallow your throat, tugging on the collar of your shirt. Feeling sweat trickle down your face and new tension brewing. “What brings you here?”
“Oh, some friends,” she remarks, rolling her eyes seemingly at the thought of them. “I was about to leave for some fresh air. And you?”
You stifle your laugh, toothily smiling, hoping you’re not turning her away. She looks at you intently, like you have something important. “Oh, funny. I was gonna say friends, too, if coworkers qualify as friends.”
“Really now?” She scans you from head to toe and recognizes that you’re one of those men. “I’m not surprised. My friends dragged me here as well. I’m guessing you didn’t wanna come along too?”
Your eyes widen at how quick she is at reading you. Like she’s known you for so long. “Wait, how’d you—”
“I guess we share quite a lot of things, huh?” she comments, beaming. The realization hits her: it’s destiny, it’s fate. “Gosh, it does really feel like we’re meant to cross paths.”
“Now that you’ve said it, you might be right.”
The girl looks around, and a realization dawns on her: that you’ve been making casual conversation on some narrow stairs, unknowingly being a mild inconvenience to partygoers. It’s only afterward she notices the growing pileup of disgruntled people cutting past, cursing you both out for indirectly acting as human roadblocks.
Glancing up the stairs, she remarks, “I think we should take this outside, you know, so we can hear each other better. My ears are hurting.”
—————
Despite reacquainting yourself with fresh air, your ears are still reeling in aftershocks from deafening party music.
Across the street, from the club, lies a humble cafe serving customers 24/7. Despite the music being so loud that you can still hear it from behind these walls, the place is empty and solemn. Evidently most people here prefer their drinks with alcohol, not coffee. And looking at the girl, you do seem to share something common: that you’re both fishes out of water, living in a way that your peers might describe as ‘foreign’ and ‘weird.’
She’s on her phone, sighing as she fires back text after text to what seems to be her friends, annoyed about being bothered. Occasionally shooting you a meek, apologetic smile. You can make out her name even through the little font on the screen; ’Seoyeon-unnie, where did u go?’ reads one of the messages, and she catches on right as you’re reading them, concealing it, her face turning red and cheeks puffing.
“You’re not from around here?” you ask, genuinely curious. She’s blended in with the locals effortlessly.
“Afraid not,” she tells you, rapidly mashing through her phone before putting it away. Sipping on her drink, her eyes fixate on you, reciprocating interest. She inhales deeply, adding: “We’re here on a scheduled trip, so we’ll be leaving soon. Don’t know when we’ll come back.”
If this is her attempt to dissuade you from developing this little date into something more, then she’s failed. She has a natural glow around her, a magnetic pull that has you hooked. Even when she sounds direct, she’s as gentle as a candle’s flame. You can imagine the stars revolving around her; she’s that charming.
“That’s unfortunate,” you reply, frowning, hoping to earn some sympathy points from Seoyeon.
She doesn’t really notice, or sees through your act. Either way, she doesn’t react. “Yep,” she sighs, stirring the straw on her drink, glancing down on the table’s surface. “Tonight’s actually our last night before we leave tomorrow, so we went out. Not a party animal, so—”
She should have probably led with that. Hearing that this encounter will be as brief as your previous ones rips through your hopes and dreams like a gun shot straight through your heart.
It leaves you speechless for a moment. Unable to take even a little sip of your own drink too.
And maybe it’s better off this way. Cherish the brief time you have before you part ways again.
“Hey, are you alright?” Seoyeon asks, snapping you from your daze.
Shaking your head loose, you adamantly lie. “Y-yeah. I’m good.”
She’s leaning her head forward, staring into your eyes intently. Something appears off. “I don’t think so.”
Fucking hell. Seoyeon’s smarter than you thought.
She pulls the rug from underneath, catching you further off-guard.
“Let me guess: work, huh?”
It’s the perfect alibi and escape. There’s some truth behind your excuse to stand on. Countless hours of a thankless job, being forced out of your comfort zone by peers that you hardly know and vice versa, when all you want is to separate your work life and personal time. Clock in, clock out.
“Yeah. Something like that. I don’t really drink; I wanna go home, but you know—”
“I understand. I mean, I’m not saying my job is as bad, but the hours eventually catch up and weigh down on you. I don’t sit behind a desk in an office for hours everyday, like you do, but the feeling is mutual.”
“Way to kick a man when he’s down,” is your reply, throwing a light jab at what appears to be a misguided attempt at empathizing. She lost you when she said she doesn’t work office hours.
Seoyeon seems to take offense to it, shooting a pout, firing a glare in your direction. “I didn’t mean to make your life sound boring and monotonous. If anything, I’ve got it worse—well, we do.”
You remain silent. Suspect.
“Imagine getting up at two in the morning, putting on makeup, being in front of cameras at nearly every waking moment, having to put on your best behavior, no matter how tired you are. Having to sing and dance the same song a dozen times without making a mistake. And when the day is over, you only have 30 minutes of sleep before you do it all over again. Rinse and repeat.”
A dour feeling hits you right in the gut. Not even you get overworked this terribly, even if your company’s policies are borderline unethical.
“Well—shit,” is your only response to quite the expository dump.
“Sometimes I wonder if this is even worthwhile,” she adds, pausing to take a prolonged drink. “I mean, I’m not alone; the responsibility is on all of us to look out for one another, but I wonder if they share the same feelings as me.”
Tilting your head, you reply, “Pretty sure they’re just as good as hiding it as you are. I mean—there’s a reason why my coworkers keep asking me to drink with them almost every other day.”
“I guess, but—someone has to be the levelheaded one in our group,” she says, her brows furrowing, reminding herself of the responsibility. “As much as we want to let loose, we still have to be careful. Getting drunk can be the worst sometimes.”
“True.”
Seoyeon has already emptied her drink while yours is still halfway unfinished. She looks directly into your eyes, reaching out her hand across the table, which you instinctively hold. Despite the little time you’ve spent together, your interactions mostly a string of mere coincidences, you feel a sense of warmth and familiarity with her that only close friends share.
“Sorry for going on a tangent like that,” she says, gently caressing your hand beneath hers, resting her head on the table, her gaze staring out the window, visibly looking tired and defeated. “I get really stressed out sometimes, and I can’t show weakness in front of anyone. I’m just—” she abruptly pauses, huffing, sighing wistfully. “I’m not ready to get back out there.”
Admittedly, you hardly know her, nor will you ever get a chance to, if she’s to be believed, but you can’t let the opportunity slip away for good. There’s no way she’s confiding this much of herself in some random stranger.
“Well, we can still stay in touch, for when you leave,” you tell her, drawing her attention. “Unless you don’t wanna exchange numbers with a guy you just met properly for the first time.”
She pauses, takes a moment to quietly chuckle, before looking up at you, grinning. “Technically, we already met twice. Just not in a conventional way.”
“Still won’t let me live that down, huh?” you remark, annoyed, much to her amusement. Meanwhile, she’s straight up laughing.
“I don’t know. I think it’s cute, actually,” is her reply, her ear to ear smile and upbeat expression infectious. “Shows that you’re committed.”
“Or that my workplace has no qualms about overworking their employees to death, but sure. Committed.”
“Hey, you’re not the only one overworked here, like I said.” Seoyeon raises her arms defensively, feigning innocence. “I thought we were on the same page.”
“You’re making me look like I enjoy it.”
“Never said you did. Did you not listen to me?”
“I heard you—I just don’t see it that way, honestly.”
“Then stop being an uptight dick about and move on.”
“You won’t let me.”
“Are you this insufferable with your coworkers?” Seoyeon mocks, resting her chin on her palm, eyes gleaming with mischief.
You lean back, feigning offense. "Only when they drag me to clubs late at night on a Wednesday."
She laughs—a bright, clear sound that cuts through the cafe’s drowsy hum. "Fair. But you’re bearable. Surprisingly."
"Wow. High praise," you deadpan, swirling the ice in your half-finished drink. A comfortable silence settles, the kind that feels earned. Her thumb traces idle circles on the tabletop, and you notice the chipped polish on her nails. The neon glow from the club across the street paints her face in fleeting streaks of flashing colors.
Seoyeon sighs, the playful edge softening. "This was—nice," She glances at her phone lighting up again. Another ignored message. "I should probably face the music. Literally."
The neon glow from the club across the street pulses through the café windows, painting alternating stripes of violet and gold across her cheekbones. You watch as she absently traces the rim of her empty glass, the ice long since melted into a sad, diluted puddle. There's a quiet intimacy in the way the condensation clings to her fingertips, in the way she hesitates before finally pulling her hand away.
"You don't have to go back yet." The words leave your mouth before you can stop them.
She looks up, one eyebrow arched. "Oh? And what exactly would we do instead?" There's a challenge in her voice, but beneath it—something softer. Something hopeful.
Outside, the bass from the club thrums through the pavement, vibrating up through the soles of your shoes. A group of drunk salarymen stumbles past the window, their laughter sharp and raucous in an otherwise quiet street. The contrast is jarring; the chaotic energy of the night pressing in closely against this fragile bubble you've created.
"I don't know," you admit. "Walk. Talk. Find somewhere that doesn't smell like stale beer and poor decisions."
A slow smile spreads across her face. "You had me at 'doesn't smell like stale beer.'" She stands abruptly, chair scraping against the floor. "But if we're doing this, we're doing it properly."
Before you can respond, she's shrugging out of her jacket and tossing it to you. "Put this on."
"Why—"
"Because," she interrupts, already pulling her hair into a messy bun, "if anyone recognizes me, I'd rather they think I'm some random girl out with her—" She trails off, gesturing vaguely at you.
"Ugly salaryman boyfriend?" you supply dryly.
She barks out a laugh. "I was going to say 'tragically overworked acquaintance,' but sure. Let's go with that."
The jacket is too small around the shoulder, the fabric still warm from her body heat. It smells faintly of her perfume—something floral and expensive, undercut with the sharp tang of citrus.
"You look ridiculous," she informs you playfully, stepping out into the night.
The cool air hits your face like a slap, sharp and bracing. Seoyeon tilts her head back, inhaling deeply as the city lights reflect in her eyes. For a moment, she stands there, perfectly still, as if savoring the simple act of breathing.
"Where to?" you ask.
She turns, and the smile she gives you is different now. Less guarded, more alive.
"Let's get lost."
—————
The alleyways twist and turn like a maze, the sounds of the main streets fading into a distant hum. Here, the air smells of frying oil and damp concrete, of laundry hung out to dry on cramped balconies overhead. Seoyeon walks half a step ahead of you, her fingers trailing along the graffiti-covered walls as if reading some secret braille only she can understand.
"You know," she says suddenly, "I used to do this all the time as a trainee. Just—walk. No destination. No manager breathing down my neck."
A cat darts across your path, its eyes gleaming in the dim light. Seoyeon crouches down, making soft clicking noises with her tongue. To your surprise, the creature actually approaches, butting its head against her outstretched hand.
"Traitor," you mutter.
She grins up at you. "Animals love me. It's my one true talent."
"What, and the whole singing-dancing-being-ridiculously-good-looking thing is a happy accident?"
The words are out before you can stop them, too honest by half. Seoyeon goes very still, her fingers pausing mid-scratch. The cat, sensing the shift, slinks away into the shadows.
"Sorry," you start, but she shakes her head.
"Don't be." She stands, brushing invisible dirt from her jeans. "It's just—strange. Hearing someone say that like it's a fact. Not a PR talking point."
There's a rawness to her voice that makes your chest ache. You want to reach out—to bridge the gap between you—but the moment stretches, fragile and uncertain.
A distant siren cuts through the silence. Seoyeon blinks, as if waking from a dream.
"Come on," she says, nodding toward a flickering convenience store sign at the end of the long, narrow alley. “I'll buy you a drink that doesn't taste like regret."
—————
It’s half-past midnight. The air inside Room 408 hangs thick with ghosts of cheap perfume and spilled beer. Neon lights pulse across soundproof walls as Seoyeon kneels on the carpet, her fingers hovering over the touchscreen. The menu glows unnaturally bright in the dimness, a constellation of song titles scrolling into infinity.
“New rule,” she says, not looking up. “If you pick anything released before 2010, you automatically lose.”
You sink onto the pleather couch beside her. The material groans, releasing a puff of dust that dances in the projector’s beam. “That eliminates eighty percent of good music.”
“Your definition of ‘good’ is suspect.” She finally meets your eyes, a challenge in the tilt of her chin. “We’re playing ‘Answer Me.’
“The kids’ game?”
“Adapted.” She tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear. The motion is quick, practiced. “I ask a question. You answer while staring at the ceiling. If you blink, you sing first. If I blink, then I do.”
“What’s the question?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know.”
She rises, standing before you. The shift alters the room’s gravity; suddenly, the space feels smaller, charged. The thump of bass from next door vibrates through the floor.
“Ready?”
You nod, leaning back. The ceiling tiles are water-stained, patterned like old tea leaves.
Seoyeon’s voice drops to a murmur, cutting through the muffled chaos beyond the door. “What did you wish for at the train station? That night we collided.”
Your breath hitches, heart pumps erratically, endlessly going through a million probable answers.
“A promotion.”
She doesn’t move. “Liar.”
“How would you—?”
“You blinked.” Triumph curls her lips. “Twice.”
You scowl, your brows furrowing. “Fine. I wished I had asked for your number when you apologized.”
Silence. The neon shifts from blue to violet, catching the startled dilation of her pupils. Her throat moves as she swallows.
“My turn,” she says, too quickly.
You stand, closing the distance. Her shoulder brushes your chest. “Rules are rules. You blinked.”
“I did not!”
“Your left eye. At ‘apologized.’
She glares, but it lacks heat. “Cheap shot.”
You chuckle.“Sing.”
Indignantly turning away from you, she complies.
She picks the song almost a little too fast. ‘Into the New World’ by Girls’ Generation flashes on the screen. A classic. A rite of passage for every female aspirant looking to get into the industry.
The opening notes shimmer, crystalline and familiar. She takes the mic like a weapon, her knuckles clenched, white.
“You know this one?” she asks, back still turned.
“Who doesn’t?”
“Right.” A bitter edge. “National anthem.”
When she faces you, the transformation is jarring. Her posture straightens, shoulders pulling back. Chin lifted. Even her breathing changes: measured, controlled. The girl who tripped on alley cobblestones is gone. In her place: a performer. A born to be idol.
Her voice is clean, technically sound—every note placed with surgical precision. But it’s hollow. A perfect mannequin singing a perfect replica of joy.
Halfway through, she stumbles. Not on the notes, but on the choreography. Her hand rises automatically for a fanchant that isn’t there, then aborts the motion, fingers curling into her palm. She doesn’t look at you. A glance here and there, but otherwise, you’re nowhere in sight.
The final chorus fades. The screen flashes 99.7%. Artificial applause crackles from the speakers. She smiles naturally as if she performs for thousands, not for one man.
She drops the mic onto the couch. It bounces, hurling toward your knee.
“Your turn,” she says, her voice tight.
You don't pick a song. Not right away.
“My question now.” You hold her gaze. “What did you wish for? That morning you saw me in this same suit.”
The air conditioner whirs. A drop of condensation slides down a beer can, pooling on the table.
Seoyeon looks down at her hands, deep in thought. A moment that could be its own eternity. She holds her breath, before her lips curl into tangible words: “That you’d look up.”
It barely registers in your head.
“—What?”
“At the convenience store. You were staring at your shoes. I wished you’d look up so I could wave. Say sorry properly for the stairs.” She picks at a thread on the couch. “Stupid, right?”
You step forward. The scent of her shampoo cuts through the stale air—pear blossoms and salt. “Why didn’t you?”
“You seemed—” She searches your face, blinking slowly. “Like you carried something heavy. I didn’t want to add to it.”
The admission hangs between you both. Raw. Unrehearsed.
“Just sing,” she whispers, her voice shrinking, body lightly jittering. “Please.”
Turning around, you scroll past Hotel California, then Gee, eventually landing on Spring Day.
Seoyeon’s breath hitches. “That’s—”
“Yeah.”
The piano intro spills into the room, slow as honey. You don't bother to face the screen. Don’t need to. You watch her instead, keenly observing the way her lashes lower at the first line, how she knots her fingers together.
Your voice cracks on the high note. Not idol-perfect. Human. Rough with the weight of overtime shifts and convenience store dinners and wishing for things you couldn’t name.
Seoyeon doesn’t move. But when the bridge begins, her lips shape the words silently. A secret shared.
On the final chorus, your voice breaks entirely again. When the song ends, the screen flashes 72.1%. ‘Better luck next time’ flashes brightly on the screen, as if it were a divine message from some higher power. You don't care in the slightest. At least you did your best, and you have no regrets.
Silence floods the room, for real this time. No fake applause.
Seoyeon reaches out. Her fingertips graze the back of your hand: feather-light, electric.
“You blinked,” she says, soft as the neon bleeding through the curtains. “During the second verse.”
“I know.”
“So I win.”
“Do you?”
Her thumb brushes your knuckle. A tremor runs through her. “No.”
—————
The air in Room 408 hums, thick with the bass bleeding through the walls and the raw scrape of your own voice battling the final lines of Fix You. Hours have dissolved into a blur of flickering lyrics, shared laughter that rattles cheap speakers, and the warm, drowsy haze of cheap drinks. Empty beer cans and soju bottles gleam like fallen soldiers under the relentless neon pulse, cycling across Seoyeon’s face as she watches you, chin propped on her hand, a soft, unfocused smile playing on her lips.
Your voice, which was never strong to begin with, has been steadily ground down by belting out everything from Bon Jovi to Gee. It’s a ragged thing now, tearing on the high notes of Iris, collapsing into a cough that bends you double, one hand braced against the sticky tabletop. You try to push through, clinging to the mic like a lifeline to no avail. The sound you make is pure gravel, like a wounded animal rasping against the soaring melody still pouring from the speakers.
"Okay, okay! Stop!" Seoyeon’s laugh cuts through the noise, warm and slightly breathless. She’s on her knees beside you in an instant, her hand landing firmly over yours on the mic. Her touch is electric, sending a jolt through the pleasant fog of alcohol and shared exhaustion. "You sound like you’re gargling rocks. Give it!"
She tugs gently, but you cling on, stubbornly trying to croak out the next line. It’s truly pitiful. Painful, even.
"Seriously!" she insists, her laughter fading into genuine concern. She leans in closer, her other hand landing on your shoulder. Her face is inches away, the neon catching the flecks of gold in her wide, amused eyes. "You’re going to ruin your throat forever. Stop." There’s surprising strength in her grip as she pries away the mic from your weakened fingers. She tosses it carelessly onto the couch beside her, the clatter loud in the sudden vacuum left by the abruptly silenced backing track.
Silence crashes down, dense and immediate. It amplifies everything else: the frantic thudding of your own pulse in your ears, the soft, quick rhythm of Seoyeon’s breathing so close to your face, the faint, sweet scent of pear blossoms and alcohol clinging to her skin and hair. Neon washes over her; blue highlights the curve of her cheekbone, red stains her parted lips, green catches the sudden intensity in her gaze. She’s not laughing anymore. Just—looking. Scanning your face.
Her hand is still on your shoulder—a warm, grounding weight. You don’t pull away; neither does she. The air crackles, thick with the unspoken weight of the hours spent here, the confessions whispered between songs, the shared cynicism about work and life, the unexpected comfort found in mutual exhaustion. The ridiculousness of your dying-frog impression evaporates, replaced by something else entirely. Something fragile, terrifyingly potent, and charged with the raw intimacy of the dying night.
You see the shift in her eyes, a softening, a question forming in the slight tilt of her head. Your own gaze drops to her lips, then flickers back up, held captive. The scant distance between you feels like an impossible chasm and a magnetic pull all at once. The noise of Shibuya, the weight of her impending flight, the looming dawn—it all recedes, muffled by the soundproofed walls and the sudden, profound quiet binding you together. You lean in, your movement barely a fraction. An unconscious yielding to gravity. Her breath catches a tiny, audible hitch. Her eyes widen slightly, dark pools reflecting the fractured light, but she doesn’t retreat. Her fingers flex slightly on your shoulder, not pushing away, not pulling closer. Just holding. Waiting.
Her face is but a hair away. You can see the faint smudge of eyeliner beneath her lower lashes, the almost invisible scar just above her left eyebrow, the delicate flutter of her pulse at the base of her throat. The scent of her is intoxicating—floral, malty, and something uniquely, essentially her. The world narrows to the point where your noses might brush, where shared breath mingles in the charged space between your lips. Her eyelids start to drift shut, long lashes casting feathery shadows on her cheeks, a silent surrender, an unspoken invitation held in that fragile darkness. Your own eyes begin to close, the chaotic neon dissolving into warm anticipation, the space between you measured in heartbeats. You lean in further, the distance collapsing into millimeters, the world reduced to the scent of her and the roaring silence—
The door crashes open with a force that rattles the entire booth.
"Unnie! There you are! We were wondering where you—" A woman’s voice, shrill and triumphant, cuts through the intimate silence like shattering glass. It dies instantly, choked off into a stunned gasp.
You jerk back as if electrocuted, your heart pounding unceasingly against your ribs. Seoyeon recoils violently, snatching her hand from your shoulder and scrambling backwards on her knees until she bumps the low table, sending an empty can clattering to the floor. Her eyes, wide and dilated a moment ago, are now huge with pure, unadulterated panic. Not embarrassment, but fear.
Xinyu and Yooyeon stand frozen in the doorway, silhouetted by the harsh fluorescent glare of the corridor. Their faces, flushed with alcohol and the thrill of the hunt, morph from gleeful excitement to slack-jawed disbelief. Xinyu’s mouth hangs open, her finger still raised in a pointing gesture that now feels accusatory. Yooyeon’s sharp eyes dart rapidly: from Seoyeon’s flushed face and dishevelled hair, to your proximity, to the scattering of empty beer cans, the discarded mics, and finally, landing pointedly on her jacket shared between your shoulders. Her expression hardens, a flicker of cold betrayal sharpening her features into something diabolical.
The silence is absolute, heavier and more suffocating than before. The only sound is the relentless, cheerful thump of an uncaring, soulless pop song bleeding from the room next door.
Seoyeon finds her voice first, thin and strained. "Xinyu. Yooyeon. What are you—"
"We’ve been looking everywhere for you!" Xinyu explodes, stumbling into the room, her voice regaining volume, thick with indignation and cheap soju. "Ignoring our calls! Texts! We thought you got lost! Or mugged! Or worse!" Her gaze sweeps over you again, lingering with undisguised disgust on the jacket, now spread on the couch after falling away. "And this? This is where you vanished to? Cozied up in a karaoke booth?" She spits the word like it’s filthy, her finger pointed at you like you’re dangerous. "With—him?"
The pronoun is a weapon. A curse. A byword.
Yooyeon steps in beside Xinyu, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. Her voice is lower, colder, cutting through Xinyu’s drunken hysteria. "Manager-nim has called eight times, Seoyeon. Eight. He’s downstairs in the lobby. Right. Now." Her icy gaze flicks over to you, then back to Seoyeon, heavy with accusation. "Care to explain? Or were you too busy?"
Seoyeon flinches as if she were physically struck. Color drains quickly from her face, leaving her pale and suddenly fragile looking. The vibrant, almost luminous girl from moments ago is gone, replaced by a cornered idol, defenses visibly crumbling. She pushes herself shakily to her feet. "I—I just needed air. Somewhere quiet. We—we ran into each other. We were—talking. Singing." The lie is paper-thin, pathetic against the evidence littering the room and the intimacy they had shattered.
"Talking?" scoffs Xinyu, stepping further into the cramped space, invading it with her presence and the smell of stale cocktails. She gestures wildly at the scene: the beers, the mics, the close proximity. "In a private karaoke booth? At 2:00 AM? Looking like that?" She waves a hand dismissively at Seoyeon’s messy bun and slightly smudged lip tint. "Singing? Is that what they call it now?"
"It’s not what you think," Seoyeon insists, her voice gaining a desperate edge. She takes a step towards her friends, but Yooyeon’s glacial stare stops her cold.
"Funny," mocks Yooyeon, her voice dangerously quiet. She takes a deliberate step forward, her eyes locked on Seoyeon’s. "That’s exactly what it looks like. Looks like you ditched us. Ditched all of us. After all that righteous indignation earlier." She lets the words hang, sharp as knives.
Seoyeon swallows hard, looking worse by the second, evidently guilty. "What are you talking about?"
"Oh, don’t play dumb," Xinyu cuts in, her voice rising again. She steps right up to Seoyeon, jabbing a finger near her shoulder. "Remember? Back at the club? ‘I’m not interested.’ ‘Leave me out of your bullshit.’ ‘Someone has to be the adult!’" Xinyu’s mimicry is viciously accurate, laced with venom. "You looked down your nose at us for wanting to have a little fun, for maybe flirting with some harmless, wasted salarymen." She spits the last word, her eyes flicking contemptuously towards you. "And then you sneak off to do what? Exactly the same thing? But oh, it’s different when you do it, right? Because you’re the responsible one? Because your taste in men is so much better?"
The accusation lands like a wicked blow. Seoyeon’s face crumples for a split second before she forces the idol mask back on, but it’s deeply cracked. Her hands, clenched at her sides, tremble slightly. You see the shame flood her eyes, hot and bright, before she looks down at the garish carpet.
"It’s not the same," Seoyeon whispers, the protest weak, barely audible.
"Isn’t it?" Yooyeon presses, her voice blisteringly cold, simmering with a deeper hurt. "You judged us, Seoyeon. You called it bullshit. You acted like you were above it. And now here you are, hiding away, drinking," she gestures at the cans, "getting cozy with some random office drone you bumped into on the subway. What’s the difference? Because he looks a little more pathetic than the ones we were talking to? Because you feel sorry for him?"
Each word is a lash on her back and her heart. Seoyeon flinches with every syllable. The hypocrisy laid bare is brutal, undeniable. The jacket you’ve gripped with your fingers feels suddenly heavy, suffocating, a symbol of a critical lapse in judgment. You want to speak, to defend her, to deflect, but the words choke in your raw throat. You’re paralyzed, a spectator to her public flaying.
"We were worried," Yooyeon continues, the ice cracking slightly to reveal genuine anger. "We were looking for you. We thought something happened. But you were—here. Doing exactly what you scolded us for. Only sneakier."
Xinyu snorts derisively. "Yeah, real adult behavior."
Seoyeon says nothing. Her shoulders are hunched, her head bowed. The vibrant spark that animated her while singing, while arguing, while laughing with you, is utterly extinguished. She looks small, defeated, drowning in the harsh light and her friends’ cruel judgment.
Yooyeon lets the silence stretch, thick with condemnation. Finally, she sighs, a sharp, dismissive sound. "Whatever. Manager-nim is waiting downstairs. We’re leaving in five hours. Get your things. Now."
It’s not a request. It’s an order.
Xinyu grabs Seoyeon’s discarded wallet from the floor. "Unbelievable," she mutters again, loud enough to carry, shaking her head as she turns towards the door. "Just—unbelievable."
Seoyeon doesn’t look at you, nor does she look at her friends. She turns mechanically, her movements stiff, robotic. She walks towards the door, shoulders slumped, head still down. As she passes Yooyeon, the taller girl grabs her elbow, not roughly, but with firm, impersonal efficiency, steering her out into the harsh corridor light.
Yooyeon pauses in the doorway, turning back. Her gaze sweeps over the wreckage of the booth—the cans, the couch, the abandoned mics—until it finally lands on you, still frozen on the couch. Her expression is unreadable, a mix of disdain and something colder, more calculating. "Stay away from her," she commands, her voice flat, final. "You’ve caused enough trouble."
Moments later, they’re gone, pulling the door shut behind you with a soft, definitive click.
—————
Silence. Not the warm, charged quietness of moments before, but a hollow, echoing void. Once again, you’re all alone. The relentless neon continues its mindless cycle—red, blue, green—flashing idiotically over the empty couch, the scattered cans, and the silent microphones. Her jacket now hangs over your shoulders, the scent of pear blossoms now sickly sweet, a cloying reminder of an intimacy violently ripped away. The phantom warmth of her hand on your shoulder lingers, a faint touch against the sudden, profound chill settling into your bones. This karaoke booth, previously a sanctuary, a pocket universe, now feels like a desolate crime scene. The taste of cheap beer persisting in your mouth has turned into ash. The city outside, hurling relentlessly towards dawn, feels vast, indifferent, impossibly cold. The space where her lips almost met yours is a vacuum, sucking all the air from your lungs.
You sink back against the groaning pleather of the couch. Deathly silence presses in, broken only by the relentless, mocking, cheerful beat bleeding through the wall from the next room, a grotesque soundtrack to your shattered intimacy. The echo of Xinyu’s mocking words—’Because you feel sorry for him?’—reverberates in the hollow space, sharp and corrosive, scathing.
You can only stay here for long before it feels like a prison sentence. A crime for breaking from a predetermined path. A crime against normalcy.
The click of the karaoke door shutting behind you echoes with unnatural finality in the suddenly oppressive hallway. The cheap, overloud music from surrounding booths feels like a physical assault after the hollow silence you left behind. You’re adrift, unmoored, with Seoyeon’s jacket still draped awkwardly over your shoulders like borrowed skin. The scent of pear blossoms and lager clings to the otherwise soft fabric, a cruel, intoxicating reminder that feels invasive now, tainted by Xinyu’s sneer and Yooyeon’s glacial dismissal.
You walk. The corridor stretches, gaudy and endless, each numbered door leaking its own brand of musical chaos. The sticky linoleum tugs at your soles. You don’t look back at Room 408. That booth, as far as you’re concerned, is tainted and cursed. You wouldn’t wish it on anyone, even your worst enemy. Elsewhere, the lobby is a blur of overtly bright lights and the tired, vacant stare of the night attendant. The automatic doors hiss open, releasing you into the pre-dawn chill of Shibuya.
The city breathes differently now. The frantic, electric pulse has dulled to a weary, dead thrum. The crowds have thinned, leaving behind stragglers—stumbling groups clinging to each other, lone figures hailing cabs with the desperate focus of the profoundly exhausted. Neon signs still scream into the fading darkness, but their messages feel hollow, advertisements for a party that’s already moved on. The air is cool, damp, smelling of exhaust, stale beer and litter. It washes over your face, a feeble attempt to clear the fog of cheap drink, raw emotion, and the phantom sensation of Seoyeon’s breath so close to yours.
You keep walking, directionless for a block, her jacket heavy on your shoulders, every step dragging your feet. The memory of her cowardly flinch, the shame flooding her eyes under her friends’ assault, replays in your mind on a loop:
"Because you feel sorry for him?"
The words scrape like sandpaper against your raw throat. You shrug the jacket off, clutching it bunched in your fist instead of wearing it. The pear blossom scent is stronger now, released by the movement, a bittersweet assault.
A vacant taxi crawls past, its roof light a beacon. You raise a hand, the motion muscle memory. It pulls over, the tires whispering on the slightly worn asphalt. Opening the rear door, the vinyl seat feels warm against your legs. The interior smells faintly of pine air freshener and old cigarettes.
“Sorry,” you rasp, your voice still wrecked from all the singing, from all the tension. You give the driver your address, your own apartment building, a place that suddenly feels impossibly distant and devoid of anything resembling comfort. You lean against your seat throughout the ride, closing your eyes, the city lights streaking past the window in blurred ribbons of color. The jacket rests on your lap as a crumpled weight.
The taxi navigates the quieter streets, leaving the core of Shibuya’s nightlife behind. The buildings grow more residential, the neon less aggressive. You recognize the familiar turn onto your street, a canyon of mid-rise apartments and shuttered family-run shops. The taxi slows, pulling towards the curb opposite your building. You fumble for your wallet, motions sluggish, your mind still trapped in that neon-lit booth, in the shattered moment before the door crashed open.
You pay the fare, the transaction silent and efficient. The driver somberly nods in appreciation, the partition sliding shut as you open the door and step out onto the pavement and back out into the real world. The cool air hits you again, now sharper. You take a step towards your building’s entrance across the street, clutching the jacket. You need water. You need silence. You need to avert your mind from thoughts of pear blossoms or panicked brown eyes or the acidic taste of hypocrisy.
“Hey! Wait!”
The voice slices through the pre-dawn stillness, high-pitched, slightly slurred, but unmistakable. Her voice.
Your heart stutters, then drums hard against your ribs. You freeze mid-step, turning slowly, disbelievingly, towards the sound.
She’s standing maybe twenty feet down the sidewalk, on the same side of the street as your apartment building, swaying slightly. Seoyeon. No Yooyeon, no Xinyu, no manager. Only her, silhouetted under the harsh glow of a singular streetlamp, wearing the same jean shorts and thin top from the karaoke booth, her arms wrapped around herself against the relentless cold. Her hair is way messier, escaping the bun entirely on one side. Her eyes are wide, searching, slightly unfocused.
“You!” she says again, pointing a finger that wobbles unsteadily in your direction. She takes a stumbling step forward. “You have—” her voice rises and falls, as if she were winding up. “You have my jacket!”
You stare, dumbfounded. The taxi pulls away, its taillights disappearing around a corner, leaving you stranded on the curb facing her. The street is completely deserted. The only sounds you can hear are the distant hum of the city and the frantic pounding of your own pulse.
“Seoyeon?” Your voice is rough scraped gravel. “How are you here?”
She ignores the question, focusing entirely on the bundle in your hands. “My jacket!” she insists, lurching towards you with more determination than coordination. “Give it! They’ll—they’ll smell it on you—or something,” Her logic is drowned by the evident alcohol still swirling in her system. She covered it better in the booth, fueled by adrenaline and shared rebellion. Now, outside, alone, the full weight of the drinks hits her like a truck.
She reaches you, close enough that you catch the stronger scent of layered soju and see the hectic flush high on her cheeks under the streetlight. Her eyes are glassy, pupils dilated, but beneath the intoxication, there’s a frantic, almost panicked energy. She makes a grab for the jacket crumpled against your chest.
“Seoyeon, stop,” you say, instinctively taking a half-step back. “You shouldn’t be out here alone. Where are the others? Your manager?”
“Fuck them,” she slurs, swiping at the jacket again. Her fingers brush the fabric. “Judgy—hypocrites—‘Feel sorry for him’—fuck them!” Her voice rises, echoing slightly in the quiet street. “Just gimme my jacket!”
This time she lunges with reckless abandon, off balance, her weight tipping dangerously forward as she snatches at the bundle. Her fingers clutch on the fabric, tugging hard. Caught by surprise, you instinctively hold on for a split second. The opposing forces—her drunken momentum, your reflexive resistance—are disastrous.
She gasps, her eyes flying wide with sudden, sobering terror as her feet teeter and tangle. She pitches sideways, not towards you, but towards the unforgiving pavement of the sidewalk.
Instinct screams louder than thought. You drop the jacket and lunge forward, shooting out your arms. You catch her not gracefully, but desperately, one arm hooking awkwardly around her waist, the other hand grabbing her upper arm right as her knees buckle. Her weight slams into you, solid and warm and terrifyingly limp. You stagger back a step, boots scraping loudly on the pavement, struggling to keep both of you upright.
For a heart-stopping moment, she’s dead weight against you, her face buried against your shoulder, her breathing ragged and hot through the fabric of your shirt. The scent of alcohol, pear blossoms, and sheer, unadulterated panic washes over you. You tighten your grip, bracing your legs, holding her suspended inches from the ground.
“I’ve got you, I’ve got you,” you repeat, your own heart hammering against your ribs. “I’ve got you. Don’t move.”
She doesn’t struggle. She sags against you, a shudder running through her frame. “Told you,” she mumbles, her voice muffled against your shoulder, thick with tears, or exhaustion, or both. “Screw them. I just—wanted my jacket—”
The near-disaster shocks some clarity into the situation. She’s out here alone, drunk, stumbling, and clearly in no state to navigate back to wherever her group is staying, let alone face her manager. The memory of Yooyeon’s icy command—’Stay away from her’—wars with the immediate, undeniable reality of Seoyeon trembling against you, inches from cracking her head open.
You look across the street. Your apartment building entrance is right there. Safe. Contained. A world away from judgmental friends and furious managers.
The jacket lies discarded on the damp pavement. You ignore it for now. Carefully, shifting your grip to better support her weight, you turn her slightly, keeping one arm firmly around her waist. She doesn’t resist, leaning heavily into your side, her head lolling against your shoulder. Her eyes are half-closed now, the frantic energy draining away, replaced by sheer, drunken exhaustion.
“Come on,” you say, your voice low, firm. “My place is right there. Across the street. You need to calm down. Get some water.”
She mumbles something incoherent, but allows you to guide her, her steps shuffling and uncoordinated. You half-walk, half-carry her a few steps to the curb, glance quickly for non-existent traffic, then navigate the short distance across the street to your building’s entrance. The automatic door slides open with a soft sigh.
The fluorescent-lit lobby is starkly quiet after the street. The night concierge glances up from his phone right as he’s about to walk away from the front counter, his expression carefully neutral as he takes in the scene: you supporting a clearly inebriated, strikingly beautiful young woman inside. You avoid his eyes, steering Seoyeon towards the elevators. She stumbles again on the smooth floor, and you tighten your hold, pulling her closer. Her warmth, her weight, the softness of her hair against your jaw—it’s overwhelming, charged with a different kind of tension now, born of necessity and shared vulnerability.
Punching the elevator button, waiting feels eternal under the concierge’s silent observation, but he eventually leaves you alone to your own devices before the doors finally slide open. You maneuver her inside, leaning her against the mirrored wall as you press the button for your floor. The reflection shows her slumped posture, her flushed face, her eyes slammed shut. She looks impossibly young and utterly spent. You pick up the jacket from where you’d managed to grab it off the pavement without dropping her.
The elevator ascends in silence, the hum of machinery the only sound. The mirrored walls amplify the awkward intimacy, the sheer strangeness of the situation. You hold her upright, her body a soft, trusting weight against yours, the events of the last hour—the singing, the almost-kiss, the shattering interruption, the street rescue—collapsing into a single, surreal point of contact in this sterile, ascending box. Her jacket, previously a symbol of stolen connection, now feels like a burden, a complication clutched in your free hand. Dawn is creeping closer, and with it, her inevitable departure. But for now, she’s here, leaning against you, breathing softly, entirely in your care.
It takes a herculean effort to fish the keys to your apartment from your pocket, with the weight of Seoyeon on your shoulders, but you unlock the door and take her inside your flat. Approaching the lone couch in your living room, you gently lay her down on her back as she releases her grip on you, settling in and taking up every little space. Leaving her to rest, you rush to the kitchen fridge and grab a glass and a pitcher of water, pouring it as you return to her, sprawled and deeply wasted. Well aware of the dangerous precedent you’re setting and its disastrous consequences, you can only pray she comes to her senses.
Placing the half-full glass of water and the pitcher on the table, you gently mutter, “Oh, Seoyeon. If only—”
The rest are words you don’t have the heart to openly declare. You share equal amounts of accountability as her, except you won’t get half the lashings, whether from her friends or from upper management.
As you scan her, peaceful and asleep, you come to the realization that she genuinely does not want to get on that plane in the morning. Beneath that quiet exterior lies unfettered frustration and rage against her so-called friends. The one time she decides to loosen up and have a night all to herself, it almost causes a near career-ending situation. She’ll probably live with that guilt for the rest of her idol days.
Such is the unfortunate nature of the beast, of the industry. To be perfect always, to make no mistakes.
As the night approaches the point of fading away, you’re reminded of your own path. So different, yet so similar to Seoyeon’s. And considering what you’ve been through these last several hours, that’s a lifetime till you’ll get to experience something like this again. Admittedly, it’s liberating. A breath of fresh air from your otherwise repetitious life.
The only thing you want to see is her glow, that bright sparkle permeating from her face. If only you had more time.
Once you’re certain she’s unconscious, you hop from your crouch and walk away, readying yourself for a brief night’s rest, only to hear her faint, incomprehensible mumbles, drawing your attention.
“Seoyeon? What’s up?”
The cool plastic of the water glass beads with condensation against your palm as you turn back. Seoyeon hasn’t moved from where you laid her on the couch, a crumpled starfish against the worn dark fabric. Her face is turned towards the back cushion, half-buried. The soft, distressed mumble comes again, muffled.
“Seoyeon?” You crouch beside the couch, setting the glass and pitcher carefully on the low table. The floorboards creak under your knees. “Hey. Can you hear me?”
She stirs, a small, restless shift. One hand flails weakly, fingers brushing the air before falling back onto her stomach. Her eyelids flutter, but don’t open. “—no,” she slurs, the word thick and indistinct. “—don’t wanna—”
“Don’t wanna what?” You keep your voice low, gentle, trying to pierce the fog of alcohol and exhaustion. The pre-dawn light seeping through your thin curtains paints everything in shades of weak blue and grey, making the scene feel fragile, unreal. “Water? Here.”
You reach for the glass, but her hand flails again, this time connecting loosely with your forearm. The touch is startlingly warm. “—go,” she breathes, the sound catching on something wet. Perhaps a tear or her saliva. “—don’t make me go—”
The fragmented plea hits you like a physical weight. ‘Don’t make me go.’ Back to the hotel. Back to the manager. Get on that plane. Back to the life where moments like tonight are impossible, dangerous contraband.
You lower the glass. The urge to brush the stray strands of hair stuck to her damp temple is almost overwhelming. You curl your fingers into your palm instead.
“Nobody’s making you go anywhere right now,” you murmur, the lie tasting like ash. Dawn is making her go. Responsibility is making her go. Millions of fans around the world are making her go. The harsh reality Yooyeon and Xinyu represent is making her go. “No one else is here but me. Please rest.”
A small tremor runs through her. “Liars,” she whispers, the word barely audible, aimed at the cushions or the universe. “—all—hypocrites—” Her breath hitches, a soft, wet sound that twists something inside your chest. She’s crying. Silently, drunkenly, the tears escaping beneath closed lashes, tracking paths through the faint smudges of makeup still clinging to her skin.
The sight undoes you. The fierce performer, the exasperated friend, the girl with the sharp tongue but secret softness—reduced to this shivering, tearful vulnerability on your worn out couch. It’s a raw exposure far more intimate than any almost-kiss. It’s the crumbling of the last wall.
Carefully, slowly, you reach out. Not to touch her face, but to gently pry the crumpled jacket from where it’s still tangled near her hip. You smooth it out, the familiar scent of pear blossoms rising faintly, and drape it over her like a makeshift blanket, tucking it loosely around her shoulders. The gesture feels absurdly inadequate.
As the fabric settles over her, her hand moves. Not a flail this time, but a slow, searching crawl across the couch cushion. Her fingers brush yours where they rest near the edge of the jacket.
You freeze.
Her touch is hesitant, clumsy with intoxication, but undeniably deliberate. Her fingers, cold at the tips, curl weakly around your index finger. A silent cry. An anchor.
You don’t pull away; you let her hold on, her grip loose but desperate. Her crying softens to hitching breaths, her face still turned away, hidden. The silence stretches, filled only by her ragged breathing and the frantic drumming of your own pulse in your ears. The pale light strengthens incrementally, outlining the contours of your small, cluttered living room—the overflowing bookshelf, the takeout containers forgotten on the table, the silhouette of her curled form on the couch, clutching your finger like a lifeline.
This is the precipice. This quiet, tear-stained connection in the fading dark. The world outside—the furious manager, the judgmental friends, the looming flight, your own precarious job waiting in a few short hours—presses in like a crushing weight, an inevitable that will pull you apart. But here, now, there is only the warmth of her hand around yours, the slight tremor running through her, the impossible fragility of the moment.
You shift slightly, settling more fully onto the floor beside the couch, your back against its sturdy arm. You don’t speak. There are no words that won’t shatter this. You simply stay. You become the anchor she’s silently asked for. Your finger rests in her loose grip, a point of contact in the vast, terrifying loneliness of her world and the quiet desperation of yours. The pitcher of water sits forgotten on the table, beading coldly. Dawn is no longer approaching; it’s seeping into the room, minute by minute, a slow, inevitable tide washing away the fragile sanctuary of the night. But for now, you hold the line. You hold her hand. You watch the light grow stronger on her tear-streaked face, and you wait.
The apartment is quiet, but not silent. Only the faint hum of the fridge and the soft whistle of wind nudging the balcony glass. Dawn creeps in inch by inch, peeling shadows off the room like skin from fruit. You shift slightly, your back pressed against the arm of the couch, her fingers still curled loosely around yours. Seoyeon hasn’t moved, but you can feel her breathing change—steadier now, more aware.
Her fingers tighten.
You look up and find her eyes open, red-rimmed and puffy, lashes clumped from dried tears. She doesn’t say anything at first, merely stares at you, as if trying to anchor herself in reality. You hold her gaze, patient, silent. The world beyond this room is still waiting to collapse around her. You both know that. But right now, it hasn't.
“You stayed,” she whispers, hoarse.
“I said I would,” you reply, matching her softness.
A beat passes. Then another. Her eyes search yours with something deeper than gratitude—something raw and reverent. And then, without warning, she pulls herself up, slowly, until she’s sitting beside you again. Her legs are folded beneath her, her hands rubbing nervously at the sleeves of the jacket you returned to her sometime in the night.
She doesn’t meet your gaze now. Instead, her voice, tentative and low, breaks the stillness like a ripple across glass.
“I don’t know if I can do this anymore.”
You don’t need to ask what this is. The industry. The expectations. The constant dissection of her every move, every breath. The public self, flawless and unbreakable. The private self, unraveling at the seams.
“I try to be the adult,” she continues, fingers curling into fists in her lap. “The one who keeps everyone safe, who doesn’t step out of line. But it’s so exhausting. I'm tired of holding it together just because I'm the one who looks like she can.”
She finally glances at you, eyes trembling. “And then I meet you. And it’s so stupid—this random accident. A bump on the train. A karaoke booth. But it’s the first time in a long time I felt like I didn’t have to—perform. Like I could truly be myself.”
You don’t speak. You reach out instead, brushing your thumb across the back of her hand, and her breath catches. Slowly, cautiously, she leans forward. Her forehead comes to rest on your shoulder. Then her whole body follows, small and warm and vibrating faintly with emotion as she folds into you.
You wrap your arms around her without thinking.
She smells like soap and sleep now, the faintest trace of pear blossom perfume clinging to the crook of her neck. Her body melts into yours, burying her face in your shirt as though trying to disappear inside your ribs. You hold her there, unmoving, your cheek resting against the top of her head.
“I’m scared,” she whispers. “That I’ll forget this. That I’ll go back tomorrow and none of it will matter.”
You close your eyes, fingers threading gently through her hair. “Then don’t forget about tonight. Don’t forget about the good times.”
She shifts, enough to glance up at you. Her eyes search yours again, but this time, the desperation is replaced with something quieter. Trust. The kind of trust that hurts because it’s so fragile, so undeserved, and yet she’s giving it to you anyway.
Her hand comes up, cupping your jaw with tentative care. You lean in without hesitation, like gravity’s been pulling you this way all night. She closes the distance the last few inches, her breath warm against your lips.
And then—she kisses you again.
It’s not careful; it's fierce—urgent. Like she’s trying to pour all the things she can’t say into the press of her lips against yours. Her fingers tangle in your hair, pulling you closer. You respond in kind, sliding your hand up her back, pressing her into you, chest to chest, heartbeat to heartbeat.
The kiss deepens, not messy, but aching. Like a dam bursting. Like the moment before a fall you no longer want to stop.
She tastes like citrus, alcohol, regret, and everything else in between, like all the things you should have said earlier. Perhaps this night was always meant to end here.
When she finally pulls away, breath shallow and lips red, her forehead rests against yours, your noses brushing. Her eyes are closed, her voice small. You can hear her heart through her gentle breaths.
“I’m not sorry.”
You shake your head. Neither are you.
Her breath mingles with yours, shallow and unsteady, the heat between you both rising in quiet, unstoppable waves. Seoyeon’s hand remains against your cheek, her thumb gently stroking your skin, but there's tension behind the softness—an urgency beneath the surface, waiting to break through.
Then it does.
She kisses you again, harder this time—less hesitant, more driven. The kind that demands something, not just offers. Her fingers tighten at the back of your head, pulling you closer, until your teeth barely graze and your breaths tangle, ragged and warm.
Your body moves on instinct. You shift, climbing onto the couch, one knee sinking beside her hip, the other anchoring you against the cushions as your hands cage her in—one planted beside her head, the other skimming her waist. She doesn’t flinch, doesn’t falter. Her eyes burn into yours for a fleeting second before she tugs you down into another kiss, fiercer than the last.
Your hand slides up her side, her thin shirt wrinkling beneath your touch. You feel the tremble in her breath as your fingers graze the hem. She answers by hooking her hands beneath your shirt, tugging it upward in fits and starts between kisses. When she finally peels it halfway up your chest, she lets out a soft, frustrated sound and rips it the rest of the way. The fabric stretches, then tears at the seam near the collarbone.
You blink. “That was my—”
“I’ll buy you another,” she murmurs against your mouth before pulling you back in, her teeth catching your bottom lip with intent. Pushing it off you, she tears the rest of it off your body, landing on the ground. She takes lease of your bare chest, claiming you as hers. “It was looking worthless anyway.”
You can’t even argue. In fact, you’re too far gone to care.
Your hands fumble at the hem of her shirt now, working fast, your pulse roaring so loudly in your ears it drowns out the city beyond your window. Digging through her shirt, slowly lifting it off her svelte body, eventually getting a little assist from her hands. Over her head, then sliding it off her shoulders, tossing it aside and joining the other discarded piece of clothing on the floor.
Seoyeon pulls you flush against her, her legs parting slightly to make room as you sink into the cradle of her hips. Your lips move along her jaw, her throat, her collarbone—tracing heat and longing across every inch of skin you find. She gasps your name into the quiet, and it doesn't sound like a whisper. It sounds like a need.
The moment has the weight of something irreversible.
You pause, your forehead resting against hers, your chest rising and falling against her ribs. Her hand rises to the side of your face, her eyes searching yours through the hush.
There’s no pretense left. No posturing. No industry rules. No office culture. Just the two of you: lonely souls, pressed together in the dying hours of a borrowed night, clinging to something fleeting and real.
And when she pulls you down again, lips parted, body arching to meet yours, it’s more than passion—it’s rebellion. It's a confession. It’s all the things she can’t say with a manager waiting in the lobby, with fans watching her every breath, with friends who pretend support but demand perfection.
Your mouths meet again. And again. The world blurs around the edges. Time unspools into something slow and molten.
Neither of you have anything left to lose. But in this fragile, fleeting moment—you have each other.
As the clock goes from 4 to 5, your kisses intensify, burning brighter than the neon lights that have blinded your eyes for hours. Your hands are all over each other, exploring the other’s bodies, leaving no opportunity wasted, leaving no room for regret. She kicks up a leg, giving your hand new territory to travel. Wrestling skin and fabric, your primal urges get the best of you. Like your mind hasn’t already hit the gutter, the temptation is something you can barely fight.
Still, you never forget your place. Hiking your hand up those jean shorts of hers, you ask her: “Can I?”
She nods vigorously, seemingly wanting it more than you.
You oblige, slowly working through the buttons, followed by the zipper, sliding it down along with the rest of the obstructive fabric. Getting a feel of her thighs, she trembles; whether it's due to the cold seeping in or from your touch, you have no clue. But what do you know is there’s barely anything beneath. A thin piece of black underwear separates you from her heat.
Dipping between the lines, the space between you merely breaths, you slip a finger through—and she keens.
Letting out this airy, thick sigh as your digit curls into her slit. Her core aches. Her mouth hangs wide, singing a profound note that’s music to your ears.
“Oh my God—” she whines, holding onto that last word with every fiber of her being. The newfound pleasure is heavenly.
“Don’t worry about anything, just focus on me,” you mumble, softly kissing down her neck between commands, hitching your breath as you feel her pussy begin tightening around your finger.
With her grip slowly arresting you like a vice, you slip a second digit in, eliciting a nasally moan from her saccharine lips. The chant is clear. ‘Need it, need it,’ she repeats, every word heavy, like it’s her lifeline, like it’s something she can’t do without.
Keeping your focus on her pleasure-laden face while her features are constantly shifting and morphing. Your fingers are pushing into her cunt, pressing the buttons that make her go wild. As she writhes and wriggles beneath you, you’re holding her steady with your other arm to keep you both from falling off that couch. She grows more and more restless with each pulse, each stroke, the sensation becoming too overwhelming to resist.
“Ah—fuck—this—is—so—” Seoyeon can’t help but rattle on, even with the endless rush of ecstasy flowing through her nerves. Still having the clarity to remember everything. It’s embedded into her mind like a deep scar. “Bet they’re jealous that you’re fucking me—”
You immediately cut her off kissing her hard on the lips, stretching that cunt a little too deep for comfort. She hums into your mouth, her body fighting against you by instinct before you quickly pull away. Gently shaking your head, you hush into the air, comforting and reassuring her, “Remember. Only me.”
She nods emphatically, bracing for impact. Through the talking, your fingers remain buried inside her cunt. They’re a match made in heaven, like she’s meant for you.
Fast on her clit, you’re regaining your rhythm as quickly as you’ve lost it. Everything falls naturally into place. Seoyeon lets out these quick whimpers, unable to keep herself together under duress. She looks so good like this, so vulnerable, so helpless in your grasp. With each sigh supplementing her moan, her body pushing against you in kind like you’ve been railing her for hours. You can feel how long she’s bottled it up, and how you’ve unlocked this side of her.
“Yes—God—yes—” she mewls, wrapping her arms around your neck and dragging you close, releasing any hope you have of letting go. Not that you had any intention to, considering how alarmingly wet and tight she feels around your grip. You can only imagine what it’s like when you finally make the move on her.
But at this moment, you can only focus on bringing her to that apex. Everything around you blurs except the heavy breaths and sighs, the natural squelch of her cunt with every drag of your fingers, and the tiny, desperate pleas for more.”‘So close,” she murmurs, biting harshly on her lower lip, using what remains of her dwindling resolve she has left to hold on, but she knows she’s on borrowed time. You’re there to accelerate the process.
Anytime now, she’ll come undone in your arms, so you savor every moment you can get.
“It’s okay, babygirl,” you whisper, your fingers inside her delicate, but ardent. “Cum for me. Cum all over my fingers. You’re so wet, God.”
Your voice activates her. Sets her off in a way that only you can.
Arching her back, you feel every inch of her fighting—resisting—only to fold right after. Her walls tensing, rigid against your digits, before it all comes together in a perfect concoction.
Seoyeon’s jaw drops hard. Lips forming a shape vaguely resembling an O, letting out a guttural whiny as her body locks beneath you, violently trembling. Brain going blank, having no other thought but the climactic bliss, the culmination of a dramatic night reaching its expected end. Fucking all sense and sanity out of her, if there’s even anything left to begin with. Your fingers take it all: a torrential downpour of slick and nectar coating your filthy digits, spilling onto your already worn couch, now past the point of repair.
You guide her through the aftershocks, never moving an inch inside her needy cunt, showering her with heaps of praise and soft, tender kisses on her skin. “Good girl—you’re cumming so much for me—” you tell her, comforting and reassuring your presence will stay for as long as she wants.
As her breaths shift from quick and erratic to slow and heavy, you take this opportunity to scoop her in your arms, taking her to somewhere a bit more—spacious. Your bedroom.
Her body instinctively clings to you, arms hooked around your neck, legs coiling around your hips as she finds an air of solace from the madness. Resting her head on your shoulder, you figure that she’s actually light as a feather when she’s not burdened by the weight of her world. Caressing streaks of raven colored hair and back, unhooking her bra and letting the panties halfway down her legs fall to the floor, leaving a trail of your whereabouts.
Gently setting her down on the bed, still in a wayward haze from her climax, the rest of your clothes follow; pants, shoes and boxers all kicked aside as you join her. Your bodies are pressed together, chest to chest, both of you sharing another passionate kiss. There’s nothing in between keeping you apart. Seoyeon looks incredibly pretty like this: so delicate and peaceful, the afterglow of her orgasm and her sticky juices clinging to her skin making her glow under the little light.
Already hard and finally loose, you line your cock on the edge of her aching core, the touch setting her alight, rekindling a dying fire. She keens, bites on her teeth, bracing herself for what’s to come, though she knows she’s not ready.
“Gonna put this inside you, babe,” you whisper , dangerously close to leaving a bruise on her skin, calling you to mark her, to claim her. She waits with bated breath, nodding vigorously in approval, as eager as you are. “Tell me if it’s too much,” you add, leaving pecks from her cheek down to her chin, finishing up at her lips. You don’t know when you’ll get a chance like this again, so you’ll make every moment something meaningful. “I’ll ease into you, but I won’t hurt you. Promise.”
“I know you won’t.” sighs Seoyeon, tilting her head back, gently smiling. “Not like you can hurt me as much as they have.”
“Need I remind you that we’ve only known each other for hours?” you reply, much to her amusement. She laughs, heartily—like you didn’t fuck her to pieces minutes ago.
“Not bothering to ask me if I’m on the pill?” she says, trying to throw you off.
“You’re an idol. I think we both know the answer to that.”
“And what if I wasn’t?”
You remain silent, brushing strands of hair blocking her otherwise perfect face away, seeing through the facade.
“Gosh, I will seriously get in so much trouble. I mean—they’re probably looking for me right now.” Seoyeon looks away, finding some clarity through her mostly drunken haze, even if her words feel heavy. “And if they see me here—with you—”
“Don’t worry about that,” you interrupt with a kiss, shaking your head. “Just—don’t forget this night. Forget about me, but not tonight. Ever.”
With that, you slip your cock inside her spreading core, feeling the sensation of her walls stretch against you upon making contact. Looking into Seoyeon’s twinkling eyes, seeing lifetimes in each other’s gaze, before the clench utterly breaks her. More than anything, more than your fingers ever have with a single stroke.
Lips parting, moaning against you, breath hot, laced with a dangerous concoction of alcohol and ecstasy. Her eyes slam shut as she takes you in. It’s all too much for Seoyeon to handle at once.
“Oh, holy fuck. Holy fuck,” she cries, her breath hitching, her body nearly jumping at the depths you’re reaching. “You feel so large inside me—”
“Does it hurt?” is your first question. It’s your top priority, caring more for her wellbeing than your own gain. Because fuck, she’s incredible. Too much for words to explain. Tight, intoxicating warmth envelops your cock as you bury yourself deep in her sopping cunt, unwilling to release you from its ironclad grip.
Vehemently, she shakes her head, her face burning red from sheer pressure. “It’s okay. I can handle it, I can handle it,” she pants, though her tone remains low, giving you second thoughts. But then she follows up with: “Don’t worry. There’s nothing you’ll do that can hurt me. Not when you’re giving this to me. Like you said: let loose.”
Further spurring you on is her hand delicately brushing up and down your arm. The only thing to really seal the notion is a kiss signed with her lips.
It takes every bit of strength to draw your hips back; she has you wrapped in a magnetic pull. Slick, wet, hot. Testing your resolve with every second you stay embedded inside her pussy, daring you to break right then and there. It’s nothing like the porn you’ve been watching during the little time off you have from work.
Swallowing your throat, holding onto a breath like you’re drowning (you are), the sound is sloppy yet so satisfying. Her juices coat your shaft, making it easier to plunge right back in. Stretching her cunt a little deeper with every thrust, overwhelming your muscles with a rush of adrenaline and blissful rapture as you fuck Seoyeon at a steady, perfect rhythm.
Doing all the little motions in between: kissing her temple, burying your face against her neck, finally leaving a bruise as a memento, whispering all the things she wants to hear.
“So fucking tight—” you mumble, brushing up against her ear, letting your tongue have a taste. As daylight begins to break and the night dies, you’ve never felt more alive with anything or with anyone than with Seoyeon, especially when you’re fucking her like this. Raw, intimate, passionate.
You can feel her body respond in kind. Her nails leave scratches all over your back, hugging you so tightly it’s suffocating. Moaning with desire, with intent. Demanding you go harder, she’s not as fragile as you believed.
“More, baby—” she whimpers, kissing your side, her embrace now inescapable. “This fucking cock—it’s so, so good—”
It’s now beyond your control. Hammering into her cunt, pinning her deep into the mattress to the point of splitting it in half. You’re working her throat overtime; unfazed and barely muffled, her voice strains and cracks with every curse and whine, clearly breaking apart at the seams. She leaves chills down your spine through vibrations of her obscene noises against your ear, accompanied by the echo of your skin slapping skin. It’s only pushing you further and further over the edge.
Pushing your hips against hers, your noses create a connection, allowing you to meet halfway in a torrid, frenzied kiss. You can hardly call it a respite, as you continue to pound into Seoyeon without quit, like you’ll burst into flames if you ever stop. Hardly a thought worth considering when you feel the intrusion of dusk piercing through the windows of your apartment bedroom.
She doesn’t have much time left—and so do you.
“Promise you won’t ever forget about me,” you beg, despite going against your own word and Seoyeon losing herself in her own bliss. A few minutes more and she might disintegrate into nothing right before your very eyes. Forget about pace at this point, it’s only about surviving the night till the world comes calling again.
“Never,” she manages to spit, moaning against your face, body trembling. Pulling you close to her like you’re her lifeline, shifting into millions of pieces that have no well-defined identity. “Not when you make me feel this good, this alive—”
God, no wonder you’ve fallen so hard for Seoyeon. Even when she’s shaking and pressed beneath your grip, she still finds ways to make your heart flutter.
“So close, again—” she whines, and that’s all you needed to hear. “I hope you are too—”
She activates something in your head. Right there, she’s set your body on fire. Like a ticking time bomb, minutes turn into seconds in an instant. As if her clench stifling your lungs wasn’t enough. Your senses are working overtime to salvage what’s left. It’s right there—the inevitable, the end.
You just have to give in.
A couple more thrusts into her; you’ve stopped thinking about it and choose to let go. Seoyeon keens, and then: she softly grins.
“There you go—give it all to me—”
Surprisingly, it’s a quiet affair. A deep moan escapes your mouth, sure, and it’s mostly you filling up the air with your weak groans, but she lets the moment pass by with an air of peace and finality. Like she’s already accepted her fate. And you pour it on; shot after shot of cum painting her cunt, not wasting a single drop. Falling beside her, burying your face into the sheets, now you’re the one desperately clinging to Seoyeon.
It should feel euphoric, a grand triumph. But knowing what’s waiting on the other side, it isn’t. It’s bittersweet.
You kiss her. Leave a second bruise on her neck. It will eventually disappear, but the memory never fades.
And so remain together like this: glued to each other in bed, while your orgasm dies and the morning rises. You don’t wanna look; the sight of Seoyeon’s little smile is the last image you want to remember. It finally catches up to you: the fatigue, the drunkenness, the wear of your emotions.
Eventually, your world fades to black.
—————
Sunlight slants through the half-drawn curtains, painting stripes across the rumpled duvet where Seoyeon had been. The space beside you is hollow, the indent of her body already fading. A crushing weight settles on your chest, immediate and suffocating. The vibrant, tangled intimacy of the night—the moans, the desperate kisses, the raw vulnerability, the fierce claiming—feels like a dream punctured by the sterile silence of your bedroom.
The digital clock on the nightstand screams 10:47 AM. You’re catastrophically late.
Panic flares, cold and sharp, but it’s instantly drowned by a deeper, more profound realization: she’s just—gone. Like the last notes of a song fading into silence.
You push yourself up, the sheets pooling around your waist, the phantom warmth of her body against yours still palpable. The room feels too big, too quiet, haunted by the ghost of her laughter, the memory of her trembling beneath you, the echo of her whispered confessions against your skin. The faint, sweet scent clinging to the pillow is a cruel reminder of what you lost.
Stumbling out of bed, legs unsteady, the pleasant ache in your muscles a stark counterpoint to the hollow feeling expanding inside you. The living room is a tableau of the night’s chaotic intimacy: your torn shirt discarded near the couch, the empty water pitcher and glass on the low table, the cushions still bearing the deep impression where you’d coaxed her climax with your fingers. The memory is visceral, electric, making your breath catch. But the space feels abandoned. Sterile, despite the mess.
Then you see it.
Draped carefully over the back of the armchair, not crumpled on the floor where you’d both shed clothes in a frenzy of need, is her jacket. The soft, expensive-looking one she’d made you wear, the one that smelled like her. It’s folded with a care that feels deliberate, almost reverent. And beside it, resting squarely on the seat cushion, is a single, tiny square of paper, torn from something larger. Maybe a receipt, maybe a notebook page.
Your heart stutters, then hammers against your ribs like a trapped bird. Crossing the room slowly, the worn carpet feels rough under your bare feet. The silence is eerie, deafening. You pick up the paper. The handwriting is small, neat, a little rushed, but unmistakably hers:
> Had to go. Flight. Idol stuff. You already know.
> Don’t forget.
> 010-XXXX-XXXX
> - S1
Below the number: a single, hastily drawn puppy. Like something she might doodle in a margin during a boring meeting.
The simplicity of it steals your breath. No grand declarations. No promises she couldn’t keep. Just a lifeline.
‘Don’t forget.’
As if you ever could.
The scent of pear blossoms seems to intensify, rising from the jacket, from the paper held tightly in your suddenly trembling fingers. It’s not the scent of loss anymore. It’s the scent of her, preserved. A tangible connection.
You trace the numbers with your thumb, the ink slightly smudged, but real. The frantic worry about work, the looming dread of facing your boss, the mountain of emails undoubtedly piling up—it all recedes, muted by the sheer, staggering significance of this tiny square of paper. She didn’t merely slip away. She left a part of herself. Deliberately. Hopeful.
You remember her fierce kiss in the grey dawn light, her whispered "I'm not sorry." You remember her vulnerability, the tears, the way she clung to you like an anchor. You remember the rebellion in her touch, the way she shattered her own carefully constructed walls against your skin. She wasn’t merely escaping her friends or her manager last night; she was claiming a moment of pure, unvarnished self.
And she wants you to remember. She wants this—this connection forged in shared exhaustion and unexpected understanding, the intimacy that bloomed in the cracks of their pressured lives—to mean something beyond the frantic hours before her flight.
You pick up her jacket. It’s soft, still holding a whisper of her warmth or maybe the memory of it. You bring it to your face, inhaling deeply. Pear blossoms, beer and soju, the faintest trace of her perfume, and underneath it all, something uniquely Seoyeon. Not the idol, but the girl who tripped on subway stairs, who rolled her eyes at her friends, who confessed her fears in a quiet cafe, who kissed you like it was her final act of defiance.
A slow, hesitant warmth begins to spread through the hollow ache. It’s not happiness—not quite. It’s something quieter, more profound. A fragile kind of hope, delicate as the paper in your hand. The world hasn’t changed. Your soul-crushing job still waits. Her life as an idol, governed by rules and scrutiny, continues relentlessly. The distance between Seoul and Tokyo remains vast.
But—she left her number. She asked you not to forget. She reached back.
The frantic panic about work resurfaces, much sharper now. There will be consequences. The weight of your ordinary, monotonous career presses in. Life goes on.
Yet as you stand, still holding the jacket and the precious slip of paper, the dread feels—different. Manageable. It’s merely noise. Background static to the quiet hum of possibility resonating from the number in your hand.
You carefully fold the paper, slipping it into the pocket of your sleep pants, a lucky charm against the mundane hell awaiting you in the office. You drape her jacket back over one of the dining room chairs, not putting it away. Let it stay. A reminder.
You head towards the shower, the hot water a necessity to face the day. The steam rises, filling the small bathroom. As you close your eyes, letting the water sluice over the scratches on your back—her marks—the image that surfaces isn’t of spreadsheets or your boss fuming. It’s Seoyeon’s face in the dim karaoke light, fierce and alive as she sang, then vulnerable and trusting as she fell apart on your couch. It’s her smile, small and real, in the grey dawn after. It’s the lone puppy drawn beside her number.
The day ahead is a gauntlet. Deadlines and apologies and the ruthless grind of an indifferent corporate world. But beneath the surface tension, beneath the fatigue and the lingering scent of her on your skin, something else thrums. A quiet, persistent current. A purpose.
“Don’t forget.”
—————
(A/N: Thank you for the commission! Again, would like to apologize for the inactivity, semester just ended and thesis work is brutal. But I am getting into tripleS a little. A bit too many members to remember, but I really like Sohyun especially. Haven't had time to listen to their new music, but Girls Never Die was one of my favorite 2024 songs. What started as a fun prompt turned into something a bit more emotional and sentimental. I do wonder if I'm just repeating elements from older works, especially since it takes a lot from Instant Crush. Hopefully with more free time, I can post a bit often than usual, even if it's only temporarily. Thank you for reading!)
"All I'm saying is: try it. Let me put you in front of a camera and we'll see how it goes."
"Ah," she breathes out a small sigh of discomfort. Hyewon pushes at your hand, forcing you to loosen your grip on her waist. "And no," there's a brief pause for a deep gasp, "I'm not that desperate."
Her neck beckons your mouth with each swallow and suppressed groan. You lean forward, lips pursed, and lightly nibble across the column of her throat. "I think it'll suit you." You punctuate the statement with a singular, harder thrust of the hips to drive home your point. "The roleplay," you whisper into her ear.
Hyewon laughs, "You're sick," she spits, "but go on."
"Imagine being that college student all alone at her house. A handsome man," you kiss her cheek in the most delicate way possible, "- me - knocks on your door and introduces himself as a salesman." Your hands are tangled in her hair, nails softly scratching her scalp. "But then something about him, his smile, or lack thereof, seems so familiar..."
"Do I let him in?" she asks. It's posed as an innocent question, even with her fingernails scrawling down the wall you have her pressed against. You take a moment to let the question simmer, slapping your hips against her ass. You're forced to slow down - you almost finished right then.
"No," you manage between heavy breaths, "because you're smarter than that." There's a deep moan that travels through your chest like fire before you say: "You ask what he wants, why he's come. But when he reaches for his briefcase and shows you what he has to offer," you reach around to her stomach to brush past her clit on the way towards her labia. "You see a couple of toys and decide you might want one after all."
Hyewon arches her back against you at that, burying the tip of your cock into her deepest part. "Toys?"
"Yes," you thrust forward, holding her body flush against yours with your hand splayed across her stomach. "Then he invites himself in and you watch as he lays them all out on your living room table."
"I bet you'd like to tell me what he says next."
"Hmm... 'How about a free sample? So you know which one's right for you?' I'd pull out this very-" You lift her leg to get a deeper angle.
"Y-yes... fuck."
"- Large dildo that was just the perfect size for your tight little hole." You snake another hand around to hold her throat, thumb and finger teasing at squeezing her tightly. "And then it would just be us, doing what we do best - in front of the cameras."
"Oh my god, shut up," Hyewon whines, head tilting back to rest on your shoulder. "Keep fucking me." Your thrusts grow heavier as she grinds down on you.
"All your pretty orgasms caught in 4k." Hyewon's entire body twitches under your hold, legs shaking against the wall where they struggle to keep her upright. "People would pay a fortune just to get off on the sound of your voice alone."
"You're insane," she cries.
"I can't wait until someone else sees how beautiful you are."
"What makes you think-" You cut off her words by squeezing harder. Her mouth hangs open, eyebrows furrowing together. She rolls her hips down, and you let go so she collapses back against the wall.
"Think of the money we'd make together."
Hyewon's back arches against you as you feel her walls fluttering around your cock. "Ah," she gasps, trying desperately to match your pace. "Please," she whispers. Hyewon isn't in any place to talk; her breath hitches each time you drive inside her cunt. You push your fingers into her mouth as you continue speaking.
"Picture the comments; thousands, maybe millions, of strangers who'll never touch you but are so desperate that they'll pay to watch. Just one video is all it'll take." You smile into her neck, relishing the feeling of her warm skin against your lips as she trembles through another orgasm. "Just say yes. Say you want it too."
She shakes her head, swallowing thickly. "I don't - Fuck."
Your hand finds purchase in the curve of her hipbone before forcing her down against every snap of your hips. The sounds her pussy makes with each thrust fill the room alongside her whimpers of pleasure. "Come on."
"I'll never be that desperate."
-
The text said to come right over, and to bring wine - you know what that means.
"Again?" you ask.
"Someone else is more suited for the role," she mimics and mocks in an exaggerated impression of some director whose name you soon forget. It's always something; some new, trivial reason. It's no longer enough to tell someone they're not right for the part - they need some special way to reject someone and make them feel bad about themselves. Every little thing wrong with a candidate gets nitpicked to hell and back. Hyewon could act circles around anyone, and she's being passed up for whatever half-assed reason they can come up with.
She deserves better.
Your reassurance would be as hollow as the director's apology. It doesn't matter - the only response it earns is an eye-roll, anyway. "I know what you're going to say," she says. "And you can shove it."
You stand, bringing the glass to your lips. "You have to stop beating yourself up like this." You gesture vaguely at nothing in particular. "You shouldn't even be mad about missing out on such a low-quality project anyway. Seriously," you scoff, "the movie's going straight to DVD if they couldn't see your potential." Her eyes finally roll up from their downward glare. "Plus," you raise an eyebrow, "now you have all this extra free time."
She lifts her nose towards the ceiling. "To work on other projects that I'll get rejected from."
You set down your glass with a laugh. "To find one you're passionate about."
"And when the money dries up?" Her question is sharp and pointed; the implication is unsaid but clear.
You step closer. "The money’s already dried up. But, you know, we can still-"
"No." Her eyes narrow. There's a moment of silence, and then she sighs; her shoulders slump, and her face softens into something more vulnerable. "I bet you don't have this issue, do you? You turn up, do the same generic plot for the hundredth time with the fifteenth pretty woman of the month and move on." She drops onto the sofa with a groan. "Easy."
"I guess you could say I'm an opportunist," you smirk, sliding down next to her. Hyewon shifts away in annoyance before grabbing her wine.
She takes a long, slow drink; staring into nothing. After finishing the entire glass, she slowly licks her lips. Hyewon looks at you through her lashes. "You did it today, didn't you? You always have this look after filming. I can spot it every time." A single manicured finger taps against the stem of her wine glass, the soft clinking noise echoing around you. "Tell me about it."
"What do you want to know?" You inch closer, shifting your body towards hers. "The setting?" The heat of your breath washes against her cheek; a barely-there whisper. She tilts her chin, angling herself toward you.
"Yes."
"A large hotel room," you reply easily. "There's a bouquet of fresh flowers sitting on the nightstand next to a bed with a very neatly done coverlet." Her pupils widen as they scan over your expression.
"With satin sheets?"
You hum, reaching out to brush her hair behind her ear. "Right. And the plot, well; cheating girlfriend seduces bell clerk the night before her wedding - very tasteful stuff. So anyway, I'm helping her with her luggage while wearing my perfectly pressed uniform with the fake nametag - let's say I was called Alex this time." Her lips quirk into the hint of a smile before vanishing again. She reaches for the bottle sitting on the table beside the couch; her glass gets refilled while yours goes unnoticed. "So I'm working, right? But I can't help myself from staring at how pretty this woman is." Your gaze flickers towards Hyewon's mouth. "With these perfect, pouty lips begging to be wrapped around my cock, so naturally, I'm a little distracted from doing my job." Your voice lowers; dropping down to a sultry drawl. Her tongue slides across her lower lip.
"And she's all flirty, I bet? Did she really play it up like most actresses do? Just looking at you all doe-eyed and shit," she laughs, "because there's only so many times a person can take seeing some bimbo flutter their lashes all innocent-like without getting tired of it. I guess you don’t really care for realism."
"So one thing leads to another-" she rolls her eyes "- and next thing you know she's on her knees begging to get railed by 'Alex'," you nod.
Hyewon makes a face of mock-shock; eyebrows raised and her hand flying up to her chest to feign surprise. "How forward!"
"The director wanted to insert some foot stuff, but she didn't like the idea, so we skipped that. You would've liked the lingerie though, real lace number - all white. Very angelic, actually," you muse aloud. "Reminded me of you." She turns her head to the side. Her neck flushes red, the colour creeping upwards until the tips of her ears glow crimson.
"How thoughtful," she says dryly before taking another sip of wine.
"You can imagine the rest. There's sex, more sex, more sex, and then we wrap it up." You wave dismissively at the thought of work. Hyewon nods along silently; nails tap loudly against the glass. Her leg shakes incessantly; you lay your hand high upon her thigh, stilling her movements. Her breathing quickens under your touch.
"Sounds hot," Hyewon rasps. "I'm sure people will love getting off on such a masterpiece of cinema."
"Something's got you pent up," you note, completely ignoring the snipe.
"Got enough left in you to stay the night?" Her eyelids lower in a challenge.
You squeeze her thigh and lean forward to murmur in her ear: "Depends what’s on offer." Your fingers glide higher, stopping just short of touching where you both know she wants it. You trace lazy patterns on her inner thigh instead. She tenses before exhaling sharply through her nose; brows pinch together momentarily, frustration mounting steadily inside.
She shrugs, nonchalant. "Me."
"You're gonna need to be more specific than that."
A sigh escapes her lips; she purses them briefly, annoyed. Then she opens them slightly to speak. "Do you want to fuck me or not?"
The laugh rumbles from deep within your chest before spilling out of your throat without restraint. "Hyewon," your fingers finally drag across her pussy. "Anytime."
-
It's not often you take the time to just walk, but when neither you nor Hyewon have anything to film today, there's no harm in two friends taking a stroll. Of course, she has to wear a hoodie, a hat and glasses just in case some creep, adoring fan, or tabloid freelancer recognises her and starts following her around. If someone had told her before how exhausting fame can become, you doubt she'd listen. How does Hyewon keep herself from being crushed under the pressure?
Maybe that's why she keeps you around.
But she smiles brighter here, walking shoulder to shoulder with you on an empty beachfront street. Nobody ever really smiles in the spotlight. It reminds you of your teenage days: when the two of you were young, naive - stupid.
"So then," Hyewon draws the word out, pausing to inhale deeply before continuing her story. "I saw this old woman, she was trying to pick up this one fruit from the ground. And, I swear I thought I was watching it happen in slow motion because they all topple and there’s oranges everywhere." She chuckles at the memory. Her laughter sounds genuine, unlike her interviews and staged performances. Here it comes easily, bubbling up from within. The sound is soft yet vibrant and musical all at once. "And she looks at me, right? With this total 'Can you believe this shit?' look on her face. I'm losing it - trying so hard not to laugh, but I end up doubling over laughing hysterically anyway. Then I try to help her collect them all. We go back and forth between laughing at each other."
"So now you come down here and visit her regularly?"
"Well, yeah. See, she gave me an orange, so I came back the next day and I paid her for it. But then she gave me more fruits so I had to keep going back," she explains simply. Her shoes click against the sidewalk as she takes each step. "Plus," her lips twist into a faint smile, "I think she's lonely sometimes, you know? Just wants somebody to talk to about life outside the market."
"Ah," you grin, "I didn't know you had such a heart of gold."
Hyewon punches your shoulder with a scowl. "Fuck you."
"Out here by the beach? If you insist."
She rolls her eyes at you. "That wasn't a proposition," she points out flatly.
"But it could be," you offer with a sly smirk. She rolls her eyes harder - so exaggerated it looks painful.
"God, you're insufferable. Wait by the beach, will you? I'm going to go see her quickly," she says as she veers away from you; footsteps light and springy carrying her into a skip. "I'll come find you after."
Your gaze follows her figure until it disappears around a corner.
-
You had to text her directions. You walked off onto the beach and veered off down between the rocks near a quieter, closed-off part of the cove.
Now you watch the water rolling against the sand below, the sun beating down on the sea with waves crashing against the shore. You're shielded from sight by tall stone formations and an overhang above and it gives you just enough shade for comfort.
"Hey," Hyewon calls out, pulling you from your reverie. You glance up to see her striding towards you; long legs closing the distance quickly.
"All good?"
She nods as she sits by your side and slips her arms around yours. Her body is warm against you. "Yeah."
The wind picks up slightly and carries the scent of saltwater with it. A cool breeze brushes past your face and tickles your skin. You shiver involuntarily; goosebumps appear along your forearms where they're exposed to the elements.
"So when do I get to meet her?" you inquire, which makes Hyewon furrow her brow in confusion.
"Why?"
"Just curious if she knows how much of an ass you really are."
"I don't think you'd survive the trip," she jokes dryly. "She'd eat you alive."
You scoff dramatically. "I'm sure I could charm my way out somehow."
Hyewon laughs openly and unreservedly at the comment; bright and loud and sweet. "Trust me, dude. She would chew you up and spit you out faster than anything."
Her fingers trace absent circles along your bicep as she talks idly, rambling about nothing important. Hyewon always speaks easily; rarely hesitates before jumping into a conversation. Sometimes it seems like she loves hearing herself talk, and perhaps she does, but more likely she needs to fill the silence that permeates everything else around her.
She tells you about something funny a mutual friend said recently and something cute her cat did last night and eventually about some rumours going around the industry lately. The whole conversation is a backdrop for what's happening between you.
You study Hyewon carefully. The curve of her jawline where her hair frames her face perfectly; her dark lashes fluttering when she blinks slowly at you; the shape of her lips, curved upwards slightly every time she smiles softly. Her body is relaxed against yours, and she lets her hands wander freely.
"And this one time, my cat seemed obsessed with stealing my socks." She recounts the stories of how he kept bringing them back into her bedroom whenever she left. "He's so cute," she's telling you while slipping down your shorts. "I should probably pay attention to him more. He's been really needy lately..." She trails off, humming thoughtfully.
"Maybe he's bored, or just needs to play more," you suggest with a shrug of one shoulder.
"Bored of what?" she asks curiously, and bringing no attention to how she just placed her palm on your crotch, slowly moving her hand back and forth. She doesn't pause while waiting for a response.
"I mean, he's stuck in the house all day." You clear your throat nervously; eyes fixed firmly ahead, even as she continues to stroke you. "Don't cats need exercise?"
"He's still so lively and playful, though. Always wants to wrestle or run after toys or chase bugs, and he tires himself out." She never once glances down between your legs. "So, do you think it's just pent-up energy?"
Your breath hitches slightly when her palming becomes a grip, and she twists her wrist on the next stroke. "Maybe he just needs a release," you try to say in a level tone, only partially managing to hide the tremor from your voice. She pumps at a steadier pace as she processes this idea for herself.
"Yeah..." Hyewon trails off, seeming unsure. "That makes sense...maybe."
You sit there in the warmth of the late afternoon sunshine, allowing yourself to relax into her touch as she continues to jerk you off lazily. Neither of you makes any effort to address what's occurring beyond it; simply two friends passing the time, talking aimlessly.
"I guess you might be right," she concludes eventually, before slipping her hands into your shorts. "I should definitely buy him a scratching post or something." Hyewon rubs her thumb at the head, spreading pre-cum further before using it to ease her strokes. The new slickness makes the movement glide smoother against sensitive skin. It catches you by surprise, and you gasp quietly at the sensation.
"Seems reasonable," you manage to mutter under your breath; barely audible over the crashing of waves nearby.
"Or maybe I should get a friend for him," Hyewon ponders. A moan slips past your lips as she pumps particularly slowly, making sure to drag her fist tightly along the length. She seems lost in thought and distracted by her musings - her pace picks up speed subconsciously.
"A f-friend?" Your mouth hangs open as another gasp escapes you.
"Yeah, y'know, to give him companionship so he isn't so dependent on me." She purses her lips in contemplation. A sigh comes from you in response, eyelids drooping as pleasure builds low within. Hyewon picks up the change in your demeanour; she slows her pace ever-so-slightly. Your hips twitch impatiently under her deliberate slowness.
"Although," she begins, "maybe he prefers having me to himself. He gets awfully jealous if anyone else gets near me."
"Don't they all?"
She hums. Her gaze sweeps towards you casually, almost disinterested. But her eyes linger far too long, and you know she feels the same pressure coiling tighter and tighter within your core as well. Hyewon studies your expression intently as your breathing turns shallow, and she squeezes her hand gently, pumping faster - twisting just right beneath the crown. Her rhythm remains controlled. A groan escapes your lips as the heat grows in the pit of your stomach and radiates outward. "You close?" Her question breaks the silence. You merely nod, mouth slack-jawed.
A satisfied smirk curves across her lips. Without missing a beat, she leans closer to kiss the side of your neck lightly. Then she murmurs into your ear softly: "Do it for me." Her teeth scrape over your lobe; a gentle reminder of whose hand is on your cock, and why exactly it's there.
And it's that combination - the subtle order paired with her tongue flicking against your earlobe - which sets your body ablaze and causes the tension in your muscles to finally snap. Her name falls from your mouth as you release messily over her fingers, and some ropes splatter on the sandy ground.
There's a soft laugh followed by a teasing remark on how much of a mess you've made. You grunt weakly. Hyewon smiles and shakes her head before removing her hand from your now-softening length. "You're gross," she comments idly.
When you glance at her, however, there's nothing malicious or irritated present in her features - rather, amusement dances behind those brown eyes. There's something undeniably erotic about seeing her expression so neutral after stroking someone to completion. You tell her, "Felt like a waste. Could have put it somewhere more useful."
"Could have, but I didn't feel like putting in the effort today." Hyewon licks her hand clean, sucking her fingertips with an exaggerated pop. "Besides, we're not done catching up."
"Got more cat stories?" you ask jokingly, sliding your shorts up your legs with shaky hands.
"Nah, going to tell you about my cousin's divorce."
"Sounds thrilling."
"Truly," Hyewon smirks as she pulls your hand up under her skirt. "Wanna hear it?"
"I'm all ears." Your fingers slide against her underwear and immediately feel the damp fabric clinging to her skin. "Start talking."
-
"Are we pretending again tonight?" She slides over your thighs; the silk of her nightdress riding up her hips.
You skim your palms across the thin fabric covering her chest; feeling the swell of breasts beneath. She arches into your touch as you cup their weight. Her nipples stiffen visibly beneath the sheer cloth. When your fingertips brush over them, she shivers, leaning further into the caress. Her fingers dig into the meat of your shoulders as her mouth finds yours hungrily; tongue slipping between parted lips as she explores every inch of your mouth. And all you can do is surrender fully to the sensations she elicits inside you - heat blooms low in your belly; desire courses through your veins like fire igniting everywhere her skin makes contact with yours.
"We've been doing this a lot, recently," you comment as she drags her teeth along your jawline; leaving small, reddish marks where they graze sensitive areas of your neck.
"Going to complain about sex?" she breathes against your neck, punctuating each word with another bite.
"Not at all," you reply, sliding your hands along her thighs as they tighten around yours. "Can't help but think it's the boredom. Or the stress?" you say with a tilt of your head as you push aside strands of hair covering half of her face. Your lips find hers. Soft moans escape her lips when you press deeper into her mouth, savouring every bit of sweetness. Hyewon tastes sweet - always does. Something soft yet tangy, reminding you of ripe berries. Your tongues clash together in a sloppy dance of hunger and longing - a mix of lustful passion and simple comfortableness borne from familiarity.
"Not this shit again," she says, lifting herself up. "If I wanted your concern and not just your cock, I'd tell you."
"Hyewon," you whisper her name as you grab her ass. "I've paid your rent for the past two months. I'm gonna be a little concerned." She grabs your chin as soon as you finish speaking.
"Shut the fuck up." She kisses your cheek first, then trails downwards until reaching your collarbone. Teeth lightly scrape over bone before moving towards the base of your throat where they sink firmly into the flesh, eliciting sharp gasps of surprise and discomfort alike.
It hurts so damn bad; but there is no denying it feels so fucking good, too. Every nerve ending in your body lights aflame like fireworks under starless night skies - so bright and vibrant they nearly blind you completely. Pain melts away into pleasure seamlessly - it becomes difficult to distinguish between one sensation and the next.
"Besides, I've made up my mind. You've won," she mutters while nipping her way across your shoulders, dragging her nails down your spine. Her nails leave stinging trails wherever they travel; scratches etched across the expanse of your back, burning hotter than hellfire itself. "I'll do it. Tomorrow I'll call up your guy, set up a meeting - whatever. Okay?" She pauses for a moment, looking directly into your eyes.
It explains the intensity. Normally, it's all so casual, but now she has something to prove.
"Okay."
"Consider this my audition. Now, lie down on the floor." You push off the couch, settling onto the thick carpet, letting Hyewon take control. She positions herself on the edge of her seat on the couch, looking down at you, her expression cold. "Remember the one you told me about last month. When she dominated you?" Hyewon whispers as she places both feet firmly upon you. One at your chest, one at your abdomen, and she presses her dainty feet down heavily, pinning you firmly against the ground beneath her.
"The rich brat roleplay?" you ask.
"Mmm hmm," Hyewon hums affirmatively. She pushes one foot up from your chest and into your face. "Bratty could kinda be my thing."
"First video would be a little simpler, besides, you don't really get to choose -"
"- I do, or it's deal off." She pushes the sole of her foot against your mouth harder. "Now shut up." She uses her toe to pull down your bottom lip, prying open your jaw forcefully. "Get to work."
You shoot her a glare, but ultimately part your lips slightly further apart, allowing access, and you taste her. She seems pleased when you swirl your tongue along her toes - her breath quickens audibly when you suck gently at the top of each digit. The act of obedience excites you as well. There is something so strangely erotic about submitting fully to another's demands.
"That's better," she coos contentedly. Slowly, deliberately, she pushes her other foot down between your legs. She grinds against your hardening cock until it becomes fully erect. "No, you can't use it yet." Hyewon retracts her limb from your mouth and brings it back onto your chest. "Hands behind your head," she instructs sharply. You comply obediently with a muted growl, interlacing your fingers behind your head.
Once again, Hyewon grinds her foot against your cock with a forceful push. A whimper escapes your lips. Your erection throbs beneath her relentless foot and twitches uncontrollably whenever she puts extra pressure on it. She drags her other foot down too. She looks at you with a smirk as if to tell you that this is only just getting started.
"You've been in the industry long enough; ever had a girl do this?" She asks as she positions each foot on either side of your length, sandwiching it firmly between her soles. Hyewon applies more pressure now and starts massaging it with alternating powerful movements. "Well?"
"No," you moan in answer.
Her toes curl and extend repeatedly with each rhythmic motion - back and forth they flex against your swollen cock - until she stops for a moment to rub her big toe up along the underside of the shaft, circling lightly around the tip before coming back down to continue rubbing up against it once more. "Bullshit. I see this all the time in videos."
"You should watch more of my videos."
"I tried," she says so casually. "But then I always think 'I could just go over and fuck him.'" She presses her heel into the base, pushing your cock flat against your pelvis. "Besides, I've seen you cum enough times now that it's only exciting when I get to do it myself." She speaks, she rubs her foot against your cock and the speed builds gradually as she watches you carefully. "Think you can cum like this?"
"I'd much rather do it inside you instead." Hyewon moves her foot faster, grinding harder down on your cock. It makes it increasingly harder to breathe properly. The friction sends shivers running throughout your entire body. Each press sends waves of ecstasy washing over you.
"Not today," Hyewon grunts. "On my feet or not at all."
"Shit." You writhe under her pressure, desperately trying to hold yourself still, to prolong this torture just a few moments longer.
"What? No snarky remark now? I think I like you better when I do this." Hyewon leans forward, positioning her head right above her feet. She spits down onto your cock before rubbing your spit-covered dick between her feet once more. "Whatever turns you on, I suppose."
"Apparently your feet are right now." You arch upwards when Hyewon picks up the pace. "And it's something about the view."
You're looking up at her, perched there and peering down at you with that mocking face she does so well. Her legs are long and smooth; her skin gleams golden in the dim light cast by the lamp beside her. Her thighs ripple enticingly with every pump of her feet against your shaft. And there's the star of it all - her feet. Nails painted white and her soles slick with spit.
Her pace becomes erratic - wild jerks and erratic thrusts become interspersed with firm grasping motions around the sides of your cock as if she intends to milk you dry. She's laughing now. Mocking the way you squirm and twist beneath her. "You're really going to cum on my feet?" Hyewon says through a giggle. You can hear the disbelief in her voice, and it irritates you immensely because, yes, you actually are about to do it.
Your orgasm surges in a violent burst of pure pleasure - you lose complete control then, spilling copious amounts of cum all over Hyewon's pretty little feet.
Her laughter rings out clearly when she sees how badly you've coated them. "Wow!" Hyewon marvels loudly as she wiggles her toes in the substance that's dribbled onto them. "Looks like somebody liked my audition."
-
"Look, we're not going for an epic here. Just ten minutes of chopped-up footage and they'll be throwing money at us," The director’s excited, almost too much so. His speech is fast-paced, and his arms move wildly through the air in sweeping gestures. Hyewon sits across from him, perched on the bed in pose. You're watching from afar. They've given her the real summer vibe. The shorts are denim and shorter than any pair you've seen her pull from her own wardrobe. That tight, orange tank top accents her breasts perfectly. She's got her legs to the side and she's resting on one arm, nodding along at the director's rambling.
She's a pro, she doesn't need this.
"Don't look at the camera. We're going for natural. Remember what we said earlier. This is just two friends having sex." You catch Hyewon rolling her eyes at that. He continues: "Nothing too fancy, just enjoy yourself."
"I've got it, can we start?" You notice the smile creeping up on the director's face as he turns to his cameras.
"She knows what she's doing," you tell him as you approach. "Let's just get started."
"Just fine by me. All set, right?"
"Yeah, we're all ready," you tell him. You climb onto the mattress and lie beside her. "Finally." The words are said low and quietly, almost inaudible under your breath.
"Too many cooks," she mumbles under her breath.
"It's your scene," you tell her. "Take the lead, he won't question it."
The room goes silent, and the director gives his signal. And in an instant, Hyewon changes; her vibe is all ditsy and wide-eyed innocence. "It's so hot here!" Hyewon fans herself, pouting dramatically. "How can anybody live in this weather?" She pulls the hem of her shirt up so slightly as to expose a little more skin.
Is this really the direction she's going? It's a little generic.
"I don't want to wear clothes anymore, Daddy."
Okay, that's unexpected.
Her line delivery is perfect, and the inflexion in her voice suggests an irresistible degree of desperation; a perfect balance of pleading whine, frustration, and underlying lust that sounds entirely genuine. Her hands run over her bare midriff, and she moans quietly; she looks beautiful and vulnerable, helpless without even knowing it.
"We have to leave, baby. Don't do that..." You watch her hands slide over her hips, riding up the material even further, exposing her slim waist.
"I'm not going." She spits out the words and pouts petulantly. "Not until I'm satisfied."
This is different - more fun than her usual performances. She's being playful now; her eyes are lit up and sparkling. You're wondering if she's been holding back on you before now.
"We're leaving." You grab her wrist. An action to which she whines indignantly, shaking free from your grip. Hyewon pushes up higher and climbs atop your lap. She's not messing around anymore. She wastes no time grabbing hold of your hands, guiding them down to her ass.
"Daddy," she repeats. "Daddy..." This time she draws out the words slowly, savouring each syllable; savouring the way your fingertips tremble against her skin. "I'm not leaving. I need you."
She doesn't need prompting to keep going - doesn't need encouragement or coaxing from you. She already has a story in her head, and she's working her hardest to bring it alive. Hyewon reaches between her legs and palms your crotch, squeezing tenderly.
"It's so big," she remarks reverently. She unbuckles your belt quickly, eager anticipation driving every action.
She lifts herself onto her knees before tugging everything off. As soon as your cock springs loose, Hyewon descends upon it greedily - wrapping her soft hand around its thickness and stroking along the entire length.
"I love Daddy's cock."
Fuck, she's really into this, isn't she?
Her thumb caresses along the crown while her fingers close tightly around the shaft. Hyewon begins pumping faster and faster as she works you into hardness. Soon enough, she slips the tip between her parted lips and engulfs it within the warmth of her wet, inviting mouth. She starts sucking slowly, bobbing her head up and down your shaft with a steady rhythm.
"No baby... We need to..."
Hyewon releases your length with a wet pop and stares up at you with wide eyes. There's no hint of shame present within those dark orbs, nor hesitation evident within her flushed cheeks. Only pure eagerness. Hunger. Desire. Lust. Unadulterated need for cock.
A truly compelling act.
"But Daddy... I want it..."
She lowers herself back down over your cock, plump lips stretched wide to accommodate your size. She moves leisurely at first - seemingly content with simply licking lazily around the bulbous tip - but soon enough increases her pace steadily until she bobs eagerly, moaning lewdly around every inch of your girth. Her saliva coats your member liberally as she slathers it lovingly with sloppy, affectionate attention.
"Baby girl..."
She pulls off completely with another loud slurping noise, trailing strings of spit connecting her tongue to your erect pillar of flesh.
"Put it in my pussy, Daddy."
There's that spark in her eyes again, telling you it's alright to follow your instincts. To forget the script altogether. You rise upwards suddenly, grabbing hold of Hyewon's slender frame by her shoulders and pushing her down forcefully onto her back atop the mattress. Hyewon yelps in shock at the sudden movement, staring dumbly at you as you tear her clothes off, tossing them away carelessly.
"W-wait!"
You flip her roughly onto her stomach, then tug her rear upwards to expose her slick centre. She instinctively props herself onto all fours. Her pussy glistens wetly and drips juices down her inner thigh, proof positive of her arousal. "Want to be such a brat, then you'll take it like one."
You grab her ass and do as you have so many times before. You slip yourself into her pussy. You're actually doing it on camera this time. All the sex that happened offscreen, away from the prying eyes of countless people tuning in, is now there to be recorded. This is what will make it onto streaming sites and DVDs and websites - you and her fucking. Her voice rings out loud as you drive yourself deep inside her pussy; groaning aloud at the intense sensation of her walls enveloping your cock.
"Oh, Daddy. So big." She speaks as if entranced. She's playing it up for the camera but it's all so perfect; you can't tell where the act ends and real lust begins.
"Fuck," you hiss through gritted teeth, as you grab her by the waist and plunge deeper. It's not hard to lose yourself within her; you forget about the cameras entirely. Every inch of her velvet folds clamps down tightly around your shaft and squeezes rhythmically around your cock in rippling waves of constrictions.
She feels so hot inside! Her walls cling greedily onto you; begging wordlessly for more stimulation. For more pleasure. And it gets worse (or better) once she starts to move with you.
"H-harder," she tries to demand. It comes out choked and needy despite the strength in her words. "Harder, Daddy." Her body quakes with ecstasy as she struggles vainly to maintain any semblance of control whatsoever. Instead, she resorts to merely clinging to the sheets below, gasping hoarsely whenever your cock spreads her open particularly forcefully. "M-more."
There's nothing quite like stretching her open; the tightness and heat that greets you with each stroke remains remarkable nonetheless, regardless of how many times you've felt it before.
"I knew you could handle it." You smack her ass, the clap of your hand ringing out around the room as she winces loudly in pain. "You know why?" You wrap a hand loosely around her neck, squeezing lightly; Hyewon squeals adorably, her legs shaking violently beneath her. Her breaths come short and ragged through her clenched jaws. "Because you're mine."
You pull her flush against your chest. A camera pans in front of her and sets down low, capturing every twitch her cunt makes when you drag against her walls. Hyewon's mouth falls agape as if frozen in place, eyes wide and wild with desire, staring blankly straight ahead. Sweat forms over her flushed skin like pearls cascading down marble; beads rolling smoothly along the curve of her collarbones.
You hold her like that for a while, fucking up into her hard and fast. She bucks backwards with each thrust; her cute tits bounce for the camera. It's all so performative - the high-pitched shrieks and loud gasps, the whining and mewling constantly tumbling from her parted lips.
The director signals - he has enough footage in that position. So you're guiding Hyewon over to the next. "How's it going so far?" you ask as you guide her to the wall. "Is it just like you imagined?"
"It's just sex," she shrugs. You turn her around and press her back against the wall, wrapping her arms around your shoulders. "Good sex."
She holds herself aloft with surprising strength. Her toned legs coil around your waist snugly while her ankles hook behind your lower back securely. "Ready?" She gives a brisk nod, smiling slyly.
The director counts down, and you're inside her once more. "Ohh Daddy," she coos breathlessly, burying her face into the crook of your neck as her hips gyrate frantically.
"You've made us late," you growl at her as you snap your hips into hers. The thud of flesh slamming against wettened flesh reverberates through the room audibly. Every time your hips connect with hers, Hyewon cries out sweetly. Loudly.
"I don't care. Fuck me." Her nails dig painfully into your back, scoring angry red furrows down your spine. Not that you care, and the fans will love it. "Daddy." It's so over-used, yet somehow never grows stale; possibly because Hyewon's tone carries equal parts lust and malice.
You grab hold of her ass and step back once away from the wall. She leans back, shoulders against the wall and everything else suspended in the air. You take her weight into your hands; she's so light that it hardly takes any effort on your part to hold her aloft like that. Like some sort of erotic art piece, contorted in a sexual pose - the very image of depravity.
You're in complete control. Your thrusts dictate her very existence right now: when you push forward, she takes your entire length willingly; when you withdraw, she begs desperately for your return.
Each motion elicits wonderful reactions from her; little twitches and convulsions that speak volumes about how badly she needs it. You fuck her like that for a while, suspended in the air. Her toned stomach tenses and her thighs tighten with every stroke. Her breathing quickens and shallows. Her half-lidded gaze fixes on yours intently; pupils dilated hugely as they drink in everything about you. Every grunt, groan or snarl you make seems to send shudders throughout her body.
There's no signal this time. You just lift her, throw her onto the bed and lift her legs into the air, holding her ankles in front of your face. You ram yourself deep into her. Her limbs flail limply in response; her calves lie unresponsive against your shoulders whilst her arms flounder about aimlessly atop the mattress.
It's rough. Violent, even. But Hyewon doesn't care. Far from caring, she welcomes it wholeheartedly. Welcomes every violent, powerful plunge and smack of your body against her thighs. You lean over her, folding her neatly beneath your frame.
"Harder, Daddy, harder," she chants ceaselessly. "Punish me for making us late."
"Open your mouth," you command sternly, pulling out almost entirely. "Stick out your tongue." She does exactly as told without hesitation. You spit into it and push back into her. She accepts both gifts eagerly; and relishes them openly, devouring your essence like candy. She swallows hungrily with an audible gulp and sticks her tongue back out, requesting more.
You spit again. She catches it, closes her mouth, and then you lightly slap her cheek. Not too hard, but enough to jostle her. The surprise causes her eyes to widen momentarily in alarm before quickly relaxing into hazy contentment. A blissful haze settles over her features, glazed eyelids drooping heavily shut.
"Come here." Your fingers thread through her silky black locks and yank hard; she whimpers sweetly at your roughness, tilting her head accordingly towards you obediently. She lets you steer her effortlessly.
Your mouths meet amidst an explosion of fiery passion. There's urgency in the kiss - an insatiable hunger permeating every lick and nibble of lips against tongues clashing together wetly between hungry gasps for air. It escalates quickly: lips parting further apart; teeth clicking accidentally; tongues entwining aggressively; saliva freely exchanging between heated breaths; soft moans rising unchecked.
By now, you have stopped caring about anything besides pounding yourself deeply into her receptive depths; rutting madly into her welcoming core without regard for comfort or safety.
She breaks first; breaking off suddenly with a sharp intake of breath, followed immediately after by an ear-splitting squeal; a keening shriek ripping forth from deep within her chest as she convulses wildly beneath you. Walls spasming uncontrollably around your cock; clutching possessively at every ridge and vein; milking insistently at each inch buried hilt-deep inside her.
There's a finale to it all. You agreed in advance how it should end. She'll take a load for the camera, right on her face. You slow yourself, reluctantly prying her legs off your shoulders and carefully extricating yourself from her clenching core. She looks almost comical in the aftermath. Her usually immaculate appearance utterly ruined - hair sticking messily up in odd directions while strands plaster erratically across her brow, cheeks aflame and glistening damply with sweat trickling from every pore; her lipstick smeared around swollen lips which remain parted in exhausted stupor.
"On your knees, now," you say, pulling her limp frame upright and off the edge of the bed. Her movements are clumsy and shaky, and she stumbles clumsily as you spin her around. Her legs fold under her as she collapses to the ground. But still, her eyes lock onto yours - fixed upon you expectantly; wanting; yearning.
And you stand tall above her, cradling her head gently in your palm. You brush your cock against her cheeks; coating them thickly in her own juices. Rubbing back and forth slowly, sliding up until you rest atop her pouted lips. She kisses the tip as you stroke yourself off above her; you run your fingers soothingly through her tousled locks encouragingly. "Take Daddy's load on your pretty face, baby girl."
Her lashes flutter dreamily as she watches enraptured. Her mouth hangs slightly slack as her hot exhales fan over your sensitive flesh; tickling enticingly. Your own ragged breaths echo throughout the room, perfectly meshing with her soft moans of encouragement as you stroke yourself closer towards climax.
She looks so vulnerable, so small sitting beneath you like this - kneeling submissively on the cold hardwood floor with your slick shaft laid heavily against her chin; staring up at you with such reverence, waiting patiently for your release. The cameras are in close. Waiting for that moment of truth.
Then it finally happens, your breath catching mid-gasp before escaping as a guttural groan.
Your orgasm hits and you release directly across her features; you cum across her lips, her nose, and her cheeks. White ribbons cascade down her visage, dripping obscenely off her jawline. She laps some into her mouth as it passes, but her gaze never wavers. Rather, she remains fixated solely on you; watching, rapt, as you unload across her features in viscous spurts until the last wave eventually washes over your senses and fades away.
You stumble back, and the camera moves in again, zoomed up onto Hyewon. She looks absolutely filthy like this - streaked thickly white across every inch of skin available atop her dainty face. Strands cling delicately atop long lashes and strings hang languidly between her parted lips.
She smiles lazily up at the camera and punctuates it all with a "Thank you, Daddy."
After you got together with Heejin and Hyunjin, the world conspired to split the three of you apart, making them end up in different groups rather than being in one group like before. The three of you managed, but meeting up became both easier and harder—it was harder to meet both of them together, because their schedules never seemed to overlap, and yet it was easier in a way to meet each of them more often, since their schedules never seemed to overlap. If Heejin was busy touring, Hyunjin would come looking to go on dates. If Hyunjin was busy with her comeback, Heejin would be texting you to come out.
"Yah, what are you thinking about?" Hyunjin pokes you out of your daze. For now it is Heejin's turn to tour, and Hyunjin's resting, the two of you out and about on a quiet cafe date.
"Thinking about you!" You hold her hand a little tighter—you were in public, so it wouldn't do to draw more attention.
"Not Heejin?"
"When did my girlfriend become the jealous type?"
"Did you forget that Heejin is also your girlfriend?" She digs a nail into your palm, making you hiss at the sting. "But say it again."
"Say what?"
"That I'm your girlfriend." She's blushing, smiling to herself at your words. You pull Hyunjin towards you, hugging her in the middle of the street. "What are you doing!"
"You are my girlfriend, I don't care if people find out."
"Crazy!" But she stays in your embrace. "Let's head back home."
"Is everything okay though? You were never this... worried? Or wary? About Heejin?" The two of you stop by at Hyunjin's favorite bakery.
"No it's just after all that happened... we're spending a lot of time with you, but always separately. I'm worried that you will, you know, compare us, have a preference for one of us."
"Would you believe me if I say I don't?"
"Would Heejin believe you?" You pause for a moment, and Hyunjin takes the chance to sneak an extra pastry on to the tray.
"Yes."
"Don't lie, I know that Heejin is competitive, and you know it too." She grabs another pastry as your punishment for lying—Hyunjin's right, Heejin would definitely want to "win", regardless of the inaneness of the competition.
"Where is this coming from? It's not like we never hung out separately before we all agreed to be together." You sigh and pay for all the pastries.
"Yeah but that's before—" Hyunjin looks around and leans in. "That's before we started doing all of this, unless you were already comparing our bodies before you saw us naked?"
"Of course not!"
"So once you have, don't you have, you know, preferences? And one of us will be closer to your preferences? If you say we have the same figure I will stuff this bread straight down your throat." Hyunjin threatens, and you quickly shut your open mouth.
"I like you both, in different ways, no one is better than the other. How did you define your diet again?"
"What? Oh! I have a seafood diet, I see food, I eat food." Hyunjin cackles at her own bad joke.
"I'm just like that with you. When I see you, I want you." You add with feigned suaveness, sneaking a hand under the table to grab Hyunjin's thigh.
"Yah you are crazy! Eat your bread!" Hyunjin blushes and pushes you off, but you know she likes it.
"Tch, you're the one who kept talking about figures and having preferences."
"Hmph!"
"I need another coffee for these, do you want one?"
"Sure, thank you!" You shake your head as Hyunjin's happy once more, a pastry in each hand and chomping away. "Then we can go home!" She adds, cheeks puffing with bread.
You're lying on the sofa with Hyunjin, lazing the afternoon away watching a movie, when your phone rings.
"Hmm? Oh it's Heejin. Hey Heejin!"
"Oh oppa, is now a good time?"
"Yeah I'm just here with Hyunjin, what's up?"
"Oh umm, I'll just talk to you later then, have a good time with Hyunjin!" The phone is taken out of your hands and is placed on speakerphone.
"Yah, Jeon Heejin. You were going to do phone sex with oppa weren't you?"
"What?" "Yah Kim Hyunjin! How can you just say that?!"
"We talked about it, when we miss you while on tour. She suggested it, right Heejin?"
"Yes."
"I umm, I see." Your throat is suddenly dry. The phone is silent, but Hyunjin does the prodding.
"Do it."
"Really? Do it?" Heejin asks, you can tell she's considering it.
"I want to listen. We've already had sex together, the three of us, phone sex is nothing." Hyunjin kisses you, a hand slipping under your t-shirt. "Ask her what she's wearing."
"W-What are you wearing right now Heejin?"
"Oh, are you sure— I'm wearing a lace top, and umm, some shorts."
"Are the shorts as tight as the ones you wore on stage?" you blurt out, your mind already going back to when you first saw those fancams. "I swear I could see where I should be in those photos." Hyunjin nods her approval, bringing up the pictures on her phone. This is weird but exciting.
"You saw those? Yeah they were really tight, I had to wear something looser the next night."
"Good, wouldn't want anyone else to see."
"Yes, just for you to see." Heejin's voice deepens, she's getting into it too. "What are you wearing oppa? Are your shorts getting tight too?"
"Yeah. I'll help oppa with it though," Hyunjin answers for you. "Let me take off his t-shirt first." She pushes you down on the sofa, putting the phone by your head, making sure Heejin can hear her kissing you sloppily.
"You should take off your top too Heejin," you mumble, pushing your hands beneath Hyunjin's. "Are you wearing underwear?" you ask as you play with Hyunjin over her bra.
"No..."
"So naughty, I wish I could see you topless."
"It's okay, just make Hyunjin take her top off." Hyunjin listens, pulling off her t-shirt and undoing her bra.
"She has now. Should I play with her tits?"
"Yes, I am too," Heejin sighs.
"Tell me what you're doing."
"I'm squeezing them, rubbing my nipples, they're, mm, pretty stiff." Hyunjin lets you sit up and do the same to her, her soft gasps merging with Heejin's over the speaker. "It feels good..."
"It does." Hyunjin agrees. "He's using his teeth, pulling on it a little, ah!"
"How hard is he?" You let out a deep breath as Hyunjin reaches down between your legs.
"Very. What do you want to do?" Hyunjin's breathing deeply too, her voice husky as she asks Heejin.
"I want to stroke him, feel how hard he is in my hands."
"She's stroking me, touch yourself Heejin." You hear the soft "ah" as the image of Heejin slipping her hand beneath her shorts surfaces in your mind.
"H-How would you touch me oppa?" You quickly grab the phone and pull Hyunjin to the bedroom—with more room to maneuver you can touch her as she strokes you.
"Me? I would start slow, rub you over your panties, make sure you are soaking wet before I do anything else." You gently press between Hyunjin's legs—she's already sticky. Hastily she pushes her shorts off to give you better access.
"Oh yes... What then? Would you take off my panties?" Heejin sighs.
"Not yet." You say sharply, making sure that Heejin listens to you. "I'd tease you further, trace your shape over it, like those tight shorts you wore." Hyunjin whines, a hand on your arm, trying to get you to do more.
"Ah, I won't wear it again. Please?" Hyunjin strokes you faster, more firmly as Heejin begs, working in tandem once more.
"Good, take your panties off."
"Only if you take your underwear off." Soon you, Hyunjin, and Heejin are equally naked.
"Should I use one finger or two?" you ask.
"T-Two."
"Ah!" "Mmm!" You hear Heejin's moan in one ear, and Hyunjin's in the other as you slip two fingers into her wet heat.
"So tight, so wet Heejin, I'm going to finger you."
"Yes! Yes do it!" You push deep into Hyunjin, feeling her tense and clench around your digits. You mouth silently to Hyunjin, asking her to tell Heejin what she's feeling.
"So deep in me already, he knows what I like, what we like Heejin. G-Go faster!" You start moving your hand more rapidly, feeling your fingers get wetter. The two of you can hear more of Heejin's moans now, louder and more frequent.
"Dont forget to touch your clit." You make sure your bump against Hyunjin's, and she has to bite back a cry when you do so. There's no muffling on Heejin's end, and her squeal comes through loud and clear.
"Yes oppa! Do more!" To her credit Hyunjin stays quiet, allowing Heejin to focus on herself and you. You feel her breaking down though, her hand on your cock forgetting to stroke you, an arm over her mouth to muffle herself. The phone sex is definitely turning her on—she's bucking into your hand, flat tummy flexing and tits jiggling slight as she twitches on the bed. You haven't seen Hyunjin quite like this in a while, and that's turning you on, now you want to finish her off properly.
"I'm curling my fingers in you," you utter into the phone, but you're doing it to Hyunjin, and the reaction is immediate.
"Ah!" A sharp yelp that Hyunjin can't help, and on the other end of the phone, an instant reaction from Heejin.
"Yes! Oh, I'm cumming, I'm cumming oppa!"
"Cum for me!" You plunge your fingers even faster into Hyunjin, and she's biting into a pillow, thighs crushing your hand. You watch Hyunjin and listen to Heejin, their orgasms seeming to blend together into something even hotter. Heejin's babbling, moaning incoherently while your fingers get crushed by Hyunjin's pussy—they seem to be in rhythm, each deep and harsh breath from Heejin in time with Hyunjin's contractions and small waves of slick.
"Oh... that was great oppa." Heejin sighs, and Hyunjin has finally released her bite on the pillow, both of them coming down from strong orgasms. "I really needed that."
"Good, I'm happy." You're too horny to beat around the bush. "I'm going to fuck Hyunjin now, so I'll talk to you later—"
"Wait, can I listen?"
"You want to listen?"
"Yeah, you don't have to talk to me, I just want to, er, hear you finish."
"I'm not going to be quiet," Hyunjin speaks up. "You know what he does to me."
"Yeah I— Fuck I'm already imagining it happening to me. Just pretend I'm not here." You hear the rustle of sheets, and the tiniest of gasp as Heejin tries and fails to keep quiet. You don't care though, as Hyunjin's stroking you again, making you aware of just how hard you are.
"Lay on your front." You grab the phone and place it by Hyunjin's head before getting on top of her prone form. "You know what he does to me huh? What else have you and Heejin said about me?" You nuzzle her neck, hearing her gasp as you push your head, then your tip, and then your shaft, into her.
"Hnngh! Sensitve, sensitive!" Hyunjin yields to you, albeit a little too fast. "Don't move!"
"Sensitive? You mean your song?" You earn a light smack for that.
"Of course not, I mean I'm sensitive, because I just came!"
"And I haven't!" Hyunjin groans. "But I'll give you a short break, what have you and Heejin been talking about?"
"What you like, what we like, what you do that we like, mmm!" You bottom out in her, and she's gripping you tightly.
"And what do you like Hyunjin?" True to your word it is a short break, and you can't help but begin moving, for now settling for rocking back and forth in her. "Better answer fast before I start fucking you faster."
"I like it when you kiss my neck, yes right there!" You leave a dark red mark over her favorite spot. "I like it when you touch me all over, show me that you love my body."
"Of course I do." You squeeze everything you love about Hyunjin—her neck, her shoulders, her tits, her midriff, her hips. You squeeze her thighs with yours, making sure she's even tighter around you.
"Fuck, I love how tight you are, Hyunjin!" You put more force into your thrusts, slamming down on her prone form, her butt and thighs rippling when you do so. On instinct Hyunjin's raising her hips slightly, letting you press them back down on the bed, letting gravity get you even deeper into her.
"Y-You're so big, oh god, mmm, mm, mm! Hnngh Heejin he's doing it again!"
"What?" You slow down again, distracted by how different she sounds. "Am I hurting you?"
"No, don't stop, just nngh, keep doing that!" Hyunjin's groaning, or perhaps grunting is the more accurate description, with every thrust, every time you put all your weight into her hips.
"Doing what?" You want answers, but with the way you continue to fuck her Hyunjin's quickly becoming incapable of responding.
"You're pushing against her womb, her umm, cervix," Heejin answers for Hyunjin. "When you go really deep you sometimes touch mine too—" Heejin cuts herself off with a sigh—she's touching herself again.
"Is that good?" Hyunjin freezes up when you nudge against it again, and you force yourself to slow down. "Please tell me if I should stop."
"No, it's really good, really really good, just not too hard." You cup her chin, tilting her head back and off the bed. It must feel amazing for Hyunjin, because she's gurgling when you sink deep into her again, nudging against the little resistance that's driving her mad. "Right— Uh! There!"
"What about... here?" You adjust your angle slightly, rubbing against her more familiar g-spot. Hyunjin coos, clearly loving it too. But you don't even have to ask when you do both on the same thrust, sliding your head against her g-spot before you drive your hips forward, nudging the entrance to her womb firmly.
"Oh my god, keep doing that, keep doing that!" The words rush out of Hyunjin, and her legs are kicking beneath you. "I love it!"
"What do you love about it?" You've pushed her legs apart slightly, giving yourself more room to plant your knees and really fuck her. You kiss the left side of her neck, then the right—you're going to leave a necklace of hickeys across her skin.
"That you're hnngh— filling me completely, stuffing me so full, ah!"
"Like your favorite pastries? Full of filling?"
"Yes, the best ones, where it's all meat, there's no empty space, and when I try to squeeze you... Fuck you're so hard in me!" Hyunjin's whimpering, and her attempted constrictions around you just drive you to fuck her harder. Your hips bounce off hers, the sound of skin-on-skin action extra satisfying as Hyunjin tries to push back against you, willing you to shove yourself all the way into her. Each successive thrust gets faster and stronger—Hyunjin's creaming around you, streaks of white coating your shaft as she's building to her own massive orgasm. She's as hot as a freshly toasted loaf of bread, warm and satisfying as you plant another kiss on the back of her neck. You've never seen Hyunjin lose it quite like this, the rapid and soft grunts telling you just how fucked to the limit she is, and soon the desire to fill her with your own cream becomes too much.
"Fuck, going to cum!" you growl, hugging her possessively, arm around her neck.
"Do it! Do it in me!" You pull Hyunjin off the bed as your hips slam down one final time, forcing her into an impressive arch as you bottom out and then pump out your load straight into her. Hyunjin cums in the very next instant, the shotgun blast of warmth right against her womb sending her eyes rolling into her head, her breath stopping as she climaxes powerfully beneath you. Everything about her short circuits and stops working; everything except her pussy, squeezing you like a piping bag, getting all the baby batter she can get out of you. After watching and listening to Hyunjin and Heejin get off earlier, your own orgasm is even stronger and longer, and you collapse on top of her, holding Hyunjin down as you rut into her, delivering, pumping, squeezing, oozing, everything you have into her.
Over the phone you hear Heejin, or rather, you hear Heejin's pussy, sopping wet and squelching as her hand is hard at work getting herself off, and with a deep-chested cry you hear her cum shortly after. You kiss Hyunjin lovingly, keeping yourself in her until you hear the rustle of Heejin picking up the phone again.
"Thanks oppa, sorry if that was too loud at the end."
"No, we finished just before you."
"Yeah, he came a lot in me."
"You two don't hide anything do you?"
"S-Show me."
"Fine, you too then." You're dumbfounded as Hyunjin grabs her phone and points it between her legs, but you see that she's captured your state as well—There's bits of Hyunjin's cream all over your cock and crotch, and right next to your cock, where there should've been the pink slit of Hyunjin's pussy, all that's seen in the photo is a strip of white, your cum pouring out of her like an overfilled bun.
"You're going to send that to her?"
"Of course, she asked for it," Hyunjin says, like it's the most logical answer ever.
"Heejin delete it after you see it, what if you lose your phone on tour?"
"I will, we're careful about that. Sending you the pic Hyunjin." Her phone dings, and you're treated to the sight of Heejin laying back on her pillows, looking utterly satisfied as she spreads her pussy lips for you, droplets of slick splattered between her legs.
"I'm going to delete it once oppa's done looking!" Hyunjin teases.
"Wait I—" Her eyes twinkle with mischief—she got you. "Fine, delete it, that's the smart thing to do."
"Not like you won't get to see Heejin like that when she comes back."
"Yeah, I can't wait for you to do that to me, it sounded really hot."
"It is! It's like he was fucking my—" You snatch the phone from Hyunjin before it gets any more bawdy.
"Alright I am not listening to you two talk about me. You should go sleep."
"Mmmhmm now I'm all drained. Thanks oppa, I'll talk to you later. Bye Hyunjin!"
"Yup bye!" Finally alone again Hyunjin cuddles against you, not caring about the load draining out of her. "That was really hot. I am totally going to call you while you're with Heejin."
"What? Why?"
"So we can have phone sex threesome, three phone sex? Phonesome? It's only fair that I get to listen in."
"And how would you know when I'm with Heejin? She just happened to call at the right time."
"I'll get Heejin to tell me, she has to, we have to have the same experiences. You need to do her in the same position, and then tell us who felt better."
"Sometimes I can't tell if you two are competing or cooperating."
"Yes."
Some weeks later, you're in bed with a half-naked Heejin, hands ready to slip off her panties.
"Wait." She picks up her phone and quickly calls someone. "Hyunjin, we're doing it."
"Oh thanks, hi oppa!" Hyunjin's voice comes through the phone.
"Are you serious?"
"Yes yes."
"We really need to have a talk about just how much we're sharing."
"TTYL, FHRN!"
"What are you even saying?"
"Talk to you later, fuck Heejin right now!" You turn to find Heejin already naked and prone on the bed.
Fine, you guess you'll do as Hyunjin says.
"Hnngh!"
A/N: Wanted to do a "TTYL" related story, but never got around to it until after Loossemble :( Kinda wanted to do the other scene from Heejin's perspective, but eh it would've been too samey, I leave it to your imagination lol. Thanks for reading! Have one more Hyunjin pic
"Oh? Thank you." But she makes no move to get out, and you watch her seethe quietly.
"Is something the matter Miss Kim?"
"Ah no, it's not your fault, but I wanted to be fashionably late." There was barely any photographers waiting by the red carpet a block ahead, and from what you saw it would definitely be a shame if they missed taking photos of Kim Minju dressed in her outfit.
"My apologies, we have arrived on time it seems." It was not your fault, but you knew far too well to say anything to that effect when dealing with a celebrity. "Should I take you back home and come back later?"
"No, I should've told you the gala was at a later time." At least she's taking some responsibility for her own predicament. "Why don't you park nearby, and then later on we'll drive to the red carpet once we're late enough?"
"Of course." Dutifully you drove the limo down a few block and put it in park. You keep the AC running, and it whirrs loudly over the silence in the limo. "Would you like a drink, Miss Kim?"
"Sure why not," she sighs, bored. You press a button and a little panel slides away to reveal a mini-fridge.
"Please help yourself." Minju does so, picking out a can of flavored seltzer and cracking it open. She taps you on a shoulder with another. "Ah no thank you, those are not for the drivers."
"It's fine, I won't tell on you, just charge two cans to my bill."
"No extra charge, they are complementary."
"Even better, take it then." You can't come up with another excuse before Minju insists it on you.
"Thank you Miss Kim."
"Minju."
"Yes Miss Minju." She clicks her tongue in annoyance but says nothing. The two of you drink in silence as time passes.
"Do you have alcohol?"
"I'm afraid we don't."
"Can you get me some?" You quickly look on your phone for a nearby convenience store.
"There's a GS25 about 5 minutes away, I can buy some there." Minju passes you a credit card.
"Do it, just a can of beer, get one for yourself."
"I'm driving, I'm not allowed to drink."
"Fine, get whatever you want for yourself." You quickly exit the limo and hurry to the store to meet Minju's demands. Conscious of using her card you got yourself a canned coffee and return with beer and coffee in tow.
"Here you are Miss Minju."
"Minju. Come join me."
"I really shouldn't—"
"Do you know how stupid we look, sitting apart while both drinking? Get in here." Minju waves you in and you reluctantly acquiesce. "What? You only got a coffee? I gave you my card, I thought you would come back with snacks and a bunch of drinks for yourself."
"Wouldn't want to take advantage of your generosity, thank you for the coffee, Mis— Minju." She smirks as you use her name for once.
"You look too young to be a chauffeur, how long have you been driving?" Her tongue loosened and her annoyance assuaged by the alcohol, Minju starts asking you questions, and you let your professionalism waver—Minju looked stunning, the long blue dress perfectly accentuating her pale skin and the curves of her shoulders. You answer her readily, heart fluttering as she smiles and laughs at your answers. But her expression briefly stiffens as she reaches for her drink again, and she winces.
"Are you okay?"
"Yes, stiff shoulder, must have slept on it or something last night." She rubs and rotates it gingerly.
"I can try massaging it, if that helps?"
"You can? Sure? If you want?" You sit down next to Minju, and she turns away from you. "Right shoulder, mm, bit higher, yeah." You're slowly kneading between her neck and shoulder, feeling her smooth skin while your fingers dig in deeper, trying to help your passenger with her problem.
"You're very tight."
"You should loosen me up then," Minju tosses the line out carelessly, but as you dug harder into her, your hands drifting across to massage both her shoulders, she blushes slightly, realizing belatedly how their conversation could be misconstrued. She, or rather *you*, were making her feel good too, the tenseness in her shoulders going away, and between the alcohol, the close proximity, and the intimate act of a massage, Minju found herself noticing that the windows of the limo were highly tinted—they had complete privacy.
"Could you massage lower please?"
"Um sure." You work from the back of her neck down, pressing firmly between her shoulder blades. Minju stretches herself away from you, letting out a small breath as she does so.
"Mm, yes. L-Let me lie down." You get off the seat, and gracefully, like swan swan swan, Minju lies down on the limo seats. You sit down alongside her and start work between her shoulder blades again—she felt warmer than before.
"Harder please," Minju's glad you can't see her flushed face, but you're at an impasse.
"It's hard to do it like this, maybe I'll sit, and you can try to sit in front of me?"
"No, it's okay, here." Minju pushes her legs together. "Get on top of me." Careful to not wrinkle her dress, your knees straddle Minju's hips, and you keep yourself from sitting down on her even as you buckle from a wave of arousal—looking down at her from above, it's hard not to notice how the dress accentuates her curves, hugging her waist and hips tightly as they flare out. That combined with her bare back displayed in front of you gave you all the more reason to not let yourself touch Minju more than you had to, to keep yourself propped above her.
"L-Like this?" you manage with a rasp, pushing deep into her back.
"Oh, mm—" Minju covers her mouth to hide the half-moan. "Yes, that's good." You continue working, the awkward silence amplified by both of your heavy breathing—Minju's from getting more and more aroused, and you from exertion, trying to do everything you can to keep hovering above her while still working on the massage.
"Can you go lower?"
"Your dress would get wrinkled."
"You can umm, unzip it." Minju's words hang in the air for what feels like far too long.
"Okay." Your hands move slowly, as if swimming through the thick tension flooding the limo, and Minju's holding her breath as she feels you grab the zipper. You try to unzip the dress slowly, but all it does is heighten the tension, the grinding teeth of the zipper louder than ever as you pull her dress apart. You leave it mostly zipped, open just enough for you to go lower. But after a short few minutes of working, Minju asks you again.
"Lower please." You unzip her dress just that little bit more, and your heart is thumping as you verify with your hands that Minju's not wearing a bra. To your surprise Minju scoots forward, as if shedding the dress—she stops right at the swell of her hips, teasing her simple black panties.
"Thought it could help you with access," Minju mumbles. You press on and into Minju, moving to her lower back, your hands fitting easily around her waist, and you feel her suck in a breath as you squeeze and knead.
"This good?"
"Mmm yeah, that's good..."
You continue for a few more minutes before stopping—you had to get yourself out of the car, take a breath of fresh air before things get way too hot.
"I think you're set. I'll let you dress and wait in the driver's seat."
"No! I mean no, I need your help with the dress zipper." Fuck.
"Right, umm, I'll turn away from you." You go to the opposite seat and face resolutely away from Minju. "I'm not looking, go ahead." You hear her get up, and before you know it you feel Minju's hands around your shoulders, but that means—
"Mmph!" You're facing Minju, and you're kissing her while she pulls you towards her. Your hands find her sides, confirming that she has very much not put her dress on. "Minju what—"
"I want this." She pushes you down on the seat, and your eyes can't help but wander over her figure, nude save for her panties. "Do you know why I'm attending this event?" she asks you, already working on your trousers.
"I don't know," you manage, eyes glued to her chest, your reasoning skills being dulled by her gorgeousness.
"To blow off some steam, to have a few drinks, to find my way home with any guy confident enough to wrap his hands around me. They all have something to lose more than I do, so they can keep a secret."
"I... See?" You fail to follow where she's going. "Why me then?"
"You wrapped your hands around me. How's the soundproofing of this limo?" she answers and asks, pulling your belt off and discarding it.
"It's good, we value our passengers' privacy."
"Good, so..." Minju lies back on the seat, her hands covering her chest. "The thought never crossed your mind earlier? Me, basically naked beneath you. No one can see us." Her legs are off the seat, feet dancing along your thighs. "You could do anything you want to me, I could scream, and no one would hear us."
"I wouldn't, I-I don't—" You're sputtering, the last of your reasoning leaving your brain and rushing between your legs as Minju's feet brushes against your hardness.
"But would you, if I asked?" Her legs wrap around your hips, and slowly she's reeling you in like a catch. "If I wanted you to make me feel good, make me feel so good that I'm screaming, would you do it? We can do whatever we want here, complete privacy." Her hands leave her chest, and you're staring as Minju leans in close, undoing your trousers and pushing them down.
"You like them?" Minju whispers, snaking beneath your boxers to grab your shaft. "You like this? Oh yes you do. All yours, just make me feel good."
"Are you sure?" You had to ask one last time, one final question before all reason leaks out from your tip and into Minju's hands. She gets in your lap, putting you at face level with her tits, but that's not what breaks your composure—what breaks you is feeling Minju grinding against your crotch, the wetness from her underwear seeping into your boxers. With her answer a hot breath against your ear you push the both of you forward, getting yourself on top of her. Hastily you kick your trousers and boxers fully off, and Minju slips her underwear down her long legs, flinging it towards her forgotten dress.
A small gasp escapes her when your tip brushes against her entrance. The two of you pause for a moment, eyeing each other hungrily. Minju wraps her arms around your neck, pulling you down for a kiss.
"Mmm! Mmmmmmm!" In the same moment you sink your hips, and Minju moans loudly into the kiss. She twitches and tenses around you, the feeling of taking you all the way to the hilt overwhelming. "Fuck!"
"Shit sorry, too fast?"
"A little, god that's a stretch, I need a moment." Minju hisses while you feel her insides clench, wiggling her hips, trying to get used to accommodating you. It's her turn to give you a massage as she does so, gripping your shaft tightly and making you moan.
"Okay you can move, slowly please." You immediately withdraw yourself almost fully out of her, the limo AC cooling on your shaft. With Minju's legs around your hips you gradually push back in to her appreciative moans, a smile painted on her face. "Yes, just like that, you can go harder!"
*Brrrrrr...*
*Ring, Ring, Ring* Where is she? Eunbi thinks to herself, dressed in her own stunning dress. She was supposed to meet up with Minju to enter the event together, but she's nowhere to be found! Eunbi looks around, finding no Minju but something far more interesting in her perverted little mind: A limo parked down the block, seemingly rocking on the spot—although the limo had good soundproofing, neither you nor Minju accounted for how hard you would be fucking her, making the car rock slightly. Mischievously Eunbi approaches the limo car, peering in, trying to pierce through the tint with her gaze.
"Mmm, ah! Unnie!" Minju yelps, an arm on your chest sharply stopping you.
"What?" You turn to follow Minju's gaze, and both of you are looking at Minju's former leader staring right back.
"She can't see us right?"
"No, she cannot."
"Okay, let's just wait till she leaves or something." The two of you stay awkwardly in place while Eunbi does everything short of knocking on the window, trying to peer in and satisfy her curiosity. Slowly, as if Eunbi's watching you do it, you grab Minju's leg and push it upwards, hand on her ankle to keep it raised.
"What are you doing!" Hastily she covers her mouth, eyes fluttering shut as you get deep into her—with one leg pressed against the long seat back, you have Minju spread in a half-split, and her muffled moan is even louder when you saw deep into Minju once more. Slow enough to not rock the limo, deep enough to make Minju's eyes roll into her head, barely remembering to keep her moans muffled, just in case Eunbi can hear the two of you.
Eunbi pauses as the limo stops rocking—did they notice her? Whatever, she picks up her phone to call Minju again.
*Brrrrr...*
"Mmm..." Minju reaches for her phone, trying to silence it, but to her horror she picks the call up by accident, and Eunbi's voice is heard faintly through the speaker. Minju slaps you weakly on the chest as you change it to speakerphone, directing her to respond.
"Minju yah?"
"O-Oh unnie!" She's tighter than ever around you, either from tension or from excitement. Grunting you pull out slowly, only to have Minju flap her hand in a panic to make you stop.
"Minju where are you? I thought we were meeting up before heading in?"
"Oh sorry unnie, I was going to tell you, but I think I caught something bad, I don't think I can make it today." Minju manages to respond just barely, the words squeezed out before she has to turn away and moan into the seat.
"Ah really? That's too bad! How do you feel? Should I bring you something?" You pull out almost the whole way before thrusting firmly back in, making Minju arch her back, biting her hand to suppress a cry. "Minju?"
"Ohhh... Oh unnie I feel fine. No need to bring me anything, I'm not sure if it's contagious." What is contagious is the pleasure spreading throughout Minju, making sure she feels more than fine. She's mouthing "No", but her pussy is saying yes as she clenches hard around you. "You should nngh... go ahead and enjoy the event, sorry unnie!"
"It sounds bad, make sure you get a lot of rest okay?"
"Sureunniethankyoubye!"
"What was that?" Eunbi asks out loud, puzzled by Minju's behavior. She doesn't get much time to think about it though as there's suddenly a knock on the limo window, drawing her attention again. The knock is persistent, and the limo seems to vibrate.
"No! Oh fuck wait, wait, wait!" Minju screams loudly as you start pounding her as soon as she hangs up, pushing her leg up against the window and fucking deep into her. Her foot knocks against the glass repeatedly, just as you knock against the entrance to her womb.
"She's right there! Right there, oh god... RIGHT THERE!" Minju explodes around you, groaning and drenching the seat in her juices—she jerks and trembles, her toes curling, her hands slapping the seat. A loud groan struggles to make its way through Minju, her entire body straining to keep your overstimulating rod out. Her hand is on your stomach, but you push forward, making her whine and gasp before you finally stop, lodging yourself inside her, even as her walls flutter, working through the last waves of pleasure around you.
"W-Why did you— Nngh..." Minju moans softly as you pull out.
"Because you got so tight talking to your unnie. You wanted to be found out didn't you?"
"No!"
"Sure, whatever you say, she's gone now anyways. Definitely got me excited, where do you want me to finish?" You kiss Minju's neck and hump her slowly, ready to go the moment she gives you her answer. She chuckles slightly before whispering in your ear.
"Inside is fine, I already made a mess all over your seat, the least I could do is let you make a mess in me." You start work on making a mess in, and of, Minju immediately. "Oh! Yes that's it!" You're stretching Minju out so much that she can't help but squeeze you. Minju feels the throbbing in her build up, and to her surprise her heart rate is going up as well—she's going to cum again!
"Mmmm!" Minju's clinging to you for dear life as you blow your load in her. She's shaking hard, and your hips move on their own volition, moving slower and slower, as if all the thick cum you're leaving in her is slowing you down more and more.
"Oh fuck, oh fuck that's good..." you gasp, pulling out, a rush of thick fluids leaking out of Minju and onto the seat. "Minju?" She's lying quietly on the seat, her entire body flushed pink. "Minju?"
"Huh? Oh umm..." Minju sits up weakly. "I'm good, it was great. Do you have some tissues or something?" You quickly throw on your clothes and head back to the driver's seat to rummage for tissues while she slowly gets herself upright—you were too deep in your own climax to notice, but Minju had joined you in orgasm, except she's never cum that quickly after the first one, and never that hard. Before today she would have been happy to find some hotshot from the event, get herself off, and call it a good night. Tonight though, she felt strangely unsatisfied and wanting more.
"Here you go."
"Oh, thanks." Minju wipes herself down, soaking the puddle of cum and juice between her legs with the tissues. She steps into the dress once more and pulls it up and finally— "Can you come back here?"
"I-I'm sorry?"
"I need your help with the dress." Right, of course. You join Minju in the back again, and silently zip it up for her. "Thank you."
"Of course." You return to the driver's seat, and the two of you sit in silence, the limo reeking of sex as you debated what to do next. "Should we umm, head back to the event now?"
"No. I already told Eunbi unnie I wouldn't be there. Let's just go back home." You nod silently and pull out of the parking spot. Minju is silent on the way back, debating with herself, desire and reason quarrelling in her head.
"We have arrived Miss Kim," you announce, pulling next to the elevator lobby in her building's parking lot.
"Oh, great, thank you. You should find a place to park."
"Oh, will you be going somewhere else after?"
"No, I would like you to come up. I'll be sure to leave my phone off, so we won't be disturbed. So why don't you find a place to park, and by the time you arrive I'll be in something more comfortable." Minju exits the limo and walks over to your window, motioning you to roll it down.
"If you're fast enough, maybe you'll catch me before I can put any clothes on."
"It's unlocked." You let yourself into Minju's apartment, and given that she's not meeting you, maybe you really were fast enough. You're fairly sure you've scratched the limo, but you'll pay for a whole new one if needed—Minju is the definition of "Worth it."
"Almost." Minju reads your mind, buttoning the last button on her top as she walks out of the bedroom. "But don't worry, you'll get to take it off soon." She moves closer to you, letting you wrap an arm around her midriff.
"What are we waiting for?" you ask, half-question and half-growl. Minju hushes you with a kiss, hands on your jacket tugging you through her apartment. She pulls your jacket off and pushes you on her bed, straddling you.
"For this, now I have you where I want."
"Yeah?" Your grab her by the hips and pull her down, making sure her short skirt rides up—she's still wearing her panties from earlier. "I have you where I want too."
"How perfect." Minju's kissing you again, but her hands are not idle, unbuttoning your shirt. "Now your turn." You reach for her top, and when the buttons are undone Minju shrugs it off her shoulders, revealing her pale skin, modest chest, and two stiff nubs.
"No bra?"
"Didn't have time, someone came up really fast."
"Lucky me," you murmur, taking the chance to cup and squeeze her tits, giving her a massage from the front.
"There'll be time for more of that later." Like in the limo Minju gets rid of her skirt and panties, and you're kicking off your own clothes too. "I want to ride you."
"Sure, you can be the driver." You smile and make a show of putting your hands behind your head, as if relaxing, but your eyes are glued to Minju's pussy, watching her grab you and... "Fuck!" A low curse escapes you as she splits herself open on you, taking you all the way and immediately wrapping all of your shaft in her warmth.
"Did I go a little too fast for my chauffeur?" She teases, but you felt Minju reel from the sudden stretch, the way her fingers dug into your arms immediately after, and oh how she has to take a deep breath now before saying anything else. "You must be too used to driving a slow car." You let Minju go unanswered for now.
"Perhaps, why don't you show me." You keep your hands behind your head, allowing Minju to lead. She plants her hands on your chest and starts rocking back and forth. You watch her gnaw her lower lip, her moans a mix of pleasure and pain—she's bitten off more than she can chew, but her pride and eagerness won't let her back off. The discomfort is only temporary as you feel her get wetter around you, and she starts riding you more smoothly.
"You like that? Oh fuck..." Minju can't help but add after her taunt. You do like it, and watching Minju's nude body rock on top of you is definitely worth whatever damage is on your limo. She jiggles and shakes, trying to fire seductive looks at you as she rides. But what you find hotter is how her expression melts every so often, when you shift your hips slightly or nudge upwards, hitting her extra deep and making her frown in pleasure. "How is it, hmm?" Minju asks, mistaking your silence as mute acknowledgement of her skill.
"Not bad. But you drive like you're driving an automatic, let me show you how to drive a stick." You sit up and hug Minju close, burying your face into her tits and sucking a stiff nipple. You lean forward further into her chest as your hands pull her hips towards you, forcing her to arch her back—this makes her near powerless in an instant, and she has to use her own arms for support against your legs.
"What are you— Nngh!" You start thrusting upwards slightly, and with Minju angled like this you hit her g-spot easily. She yelps on every thrust, her world spinning upside down as you bounce her on top of you. "Mm, mm, mm, mm, oh my god! Oh fuck! Right there, oh I'm cumming!" Minju clenches around you, and you push her through her orgasm, moving your hips in a grinding circle, driving Minju wild in manual. Her arms go weak, and she tips backwards on to the bed, hips bucking as you slip out of her.
"How was that?" you challenge, taking the opportunity to get on top of her.
"Good— Ah!" You're inside her again. Minju changes her approach. "You're so deep inside me, is that why you drive limos, because you're stretching me out sooooo much."
"Now that's a stretch of a joke." You chuckle, not rising to Minju's taunts. She doubles down though, kissing you deeply before hugging you close, leaving a hickey on your neck.
"It's not, you're stretching me out so much, no one's going to feel as good from now on." She wraps her long legs around you and pulls you in. "God it's like my pussy is your permanent parking spot now." You twitch inside her, and Minju smiles at that sensation. "Oh you'd like that wouldn't you? Me coming to you every time I want to get off? Giving you a place where you can park your cum?" As she says it Minju gets more and more aroused—she wouldn't mind that at all, not with how good she feels now and in the car earlier. Unconsciously she tightens around you, making you moan.
"Fuck you feel so good!" The bedsprings creak as they try to push Minju deeper on to you from below. "Shit I'm going to cum!"
"Wait, not in here!"
"Fine I'll pull out!" You start thrusting faster, but Minju hurriedly smacks you on the chest.
"Bathroom, now!" Next thing you know you've pressed Minju against the glass wall of her shower, kissing her as you lift a leg and enter her again.
"Cum in me, just didn't want to make a mess on my bed."
"Oh, so it's okay to dirty my leather seats, but not your bed?"
"You can cum in me here, or we can go back to the bed and you can cum on me, your choice." Minju challenges, wrapping the leg around your hip to let you know which she preferred.
"Fine." You grab Minju by the wrists, pinning her at 3 points against the wall—wrist, wrist, pussy. Despite the slight interruption of getting to the bathroom you're back on the road to your peak, going faster—from the bruises on Minju you see afterwards it might even be reckless.
"Fuck, right there!" But right now she encourages it, bucking best she can, throwing her hips into yours. "Are you cumming soon? You're going to make me cum with you again, mmm!" You grab Minju by her hair, tiling her head back to look at her.
"Is that why you felt so good?" Minju can only moan in response, shuddering as her first orgasmic contraction grips her and you. "Fuck that's it, it's like your pussy wants to suck all the cum out of me!" You slam her even harder into the glass wall, your own pleasure building fast. Your blood's pumping, drowning out her cries. The "Check Engine" light is blinking in the form of Minju's fluttering eyelids, but you keep the pedal pressed down, burning through the rest of your tank and revving both of you to even louder roars of pleasure.
And then it happens.
Minju's jaw drops, you crash into her one last time, and the most exquisite of tugs from Minju ends you. You fire thick white lines of cum into her, painting your own personal parking spot in the cum park that is Minju's pussy. You explode, rupturing and spilling everything into her womb. The dying sputters of your engine force you to hump up into her, making both of you gasp and grunt until you finally stop. Her low moans and sighs flood your ear—mindlessly she caresses your cheek, kissing you passionately, a woman thoroughly satisfied as she leaks your white "oil" all around your shaft. You slip out, and the heavy splatters of dripping seed echo in the now quiet bathroom.
"Wow."
"Ow." Minju winces as you hold her by the waist. "Wait don't let go, I can't stand." You hug Minju higher up, pressing her chest to yours as she sighs and waits for her strength to return.
"Sorry, did I go too hard?"
"No, you just feel good. As far as the pain." Minju reaches behind, frowning as she touches her lower back. "I blame the wall," she laughs and quips into your neck.
"Told you we should've just stayed in bed."
"Unless you're offering to do my laundry, I get to choose." The two of you share an intimate moment in the shower, getting clean with a quick rinse, but never losing contact with one another.
"We're still good right?" Minju asks as you throw on your jacket, recognizing that it's time for tonight to end.
"What do you mean?"
"If I need a driver next time, you'll still be available? It won't always lead to... this though."
"Of course, my job is to drive. I don't expect anything more than the usual pay."
A few weeks later and after a few requests from Minju that don't lead to anything more, you get another job from her. You're asked to go upstairs, so you do so.
"Hello Miss Kim."
"Just call me Minju already. Come hold my dress for me? Don't zip it up yet." Minju makes a show of adjusting her makeup.
"It's a very nice dress, when is the event? I can take a more scenic route if we want to be late." Before you know it Minju steps away from you, and with you holding the dress it slides off her easily—Minju's fully naked as she turns to face you.
"The event's tomorrow, so I'm afraid I can't pay you for today."
"We can figure something out."
A/N: Had this car sex idea in my head for a long time, finally got around to writing it. Helps that Minju has had more pretty dress outfits since then lol, hope you like it! Thank you for reading.
Consider: Yubin who's your seatmate and is very professional in school but every night at 10pm you get the raciest, sauciest, spiciest nudes from her with no warning
Hell Week
tripleS Gong Yubin & Male Reader
Categories/warnings: smut, that's p much all anyone needs to know i think
Word count: 5.5k holy shit
a/n: jeez howd it get this long :nolookk: oh btw i took some liberties with the prompt not that u care heres the fuckin yubin fic :DDDD
~~~
A hand lays itself on your shoulder, the sudden contact nearly making you jump. You turn around and find Yubin clutching a book to her chest with a gentle look on her features. Gesture over to the chair across from you, all the while trying to get your heart rate back under control.
“My bad, didn't see you were locked in.” She gets into the chair left of you anyway and turns her book to the same page as yours. “How's it going?”
You stretch and groan to let out as much of your tiredness as you can, paying just a bit of mind to everyone else in the library doing pretty much the same. “Dunno. Around twenty minutes ago I accepted I'm retaking this class. What's up with you?”
She giggles while her eyes scan across the paragraphs talking about desert flora and types of precipitation. She rests her cheek on her palm, “I still have a bit of fight in me, but I'm losing hope. I was hoping I could borrow some from you.”
“Sorry, Yubin,” you whisper with every ounce of sympathy you had, “fresh out.” You return to your own book, yet all you do is run your eyes over the same page over and over without much staying in your head.
A cursory look over to your left shows you scholar-mode Gong Yubin: focused, sharp, and serious. Not that it ever got in the way of you two being friends, but when she gets like this, you know better than to underestimate her–she's capable of plotting the downfall of kingdoms if she set her mind to it.
However, at the same time, you notice her distress, then immediately notice how well she hides it. It's the same slight crease of her eyebrows in freshman orientation, after midterms in Linguistics 103, and when she finally stopped putting off Geology 102. The realization dawns on you: the situation is dire now that she asks for your help while she's like this, so how could you let her down now?
“Bet you I can score higher,” you challenge her. You have no good reason to issue such a proposition, but if it means giving her support how it matters, whatever embarrassing thing she'll make you do is more than worth it.
It piques her interest and a smile pulls up the corners of her lips. She side-eyes you with an excitement she didn't have just two minutes prior, and you know it worked. “If I win,” she announces as loud as she's allowed to, “make me thick tofu stew. The right way.”
“Really? That's it?” Then you rebut with just as much fervor, “If I win, you do three of my essays in comparative lit next semester.”
“Now hold the fuck on,” she stumbles, her eyes grown wide and her smile grown toothy, “if you're gonna raise the stakes like that, I need to think of something else!”
Your phone and hers vibrate at the same time, and your screen reads “Get your ass over to Geog.” You both pack your bags and head off to your last Geology class before finals together, and as your book takes its place in the darkness of your backpack, “Fine, but I get to change mine too when I hear yours,” and the spring in her step as you walk tells you it's mission accomplished.
~~~
In hindsight, it really wasn’t all that bad. The class review session your professor held that day helped you nail down just enough of whatever the fuck sleet might be, and while you're certain it isn't flying colors, your grade at least wouldn't be red.
Coming out of the exam room, you spot Yubin just seconds before she finds you, and your good deed pays for itself as she skips to approach.
“Got a good feeling?” There was no point in asking other than that you had to hear it from her, though the wide grin on her face was proof enough.
“Yeah, I think barely,” she sways cutely from side to side, “and don't think you're off the hook!” She hits you light on the arm, and the most shining feature you can’t ignore is her eyebrows without any sign or symptom of the crease.
“Not over ‘til the fat lady sings, Gong Yubin,” though you know she's already won. “Three whole essays against… Haven't you decided yet?”
“No, not yet, but the bet is still on!”
You relent, “Fine, fine. Anyway, Nakyoung’s treating the gang to drinks tonight. Wanna come?”
“Nah, busy. Laundry and stuff.” She shifts her weight from foot to foot, and you can tell she’s giddy about what her grade is going to turn out to be. It’s a sight for sore eyes, especially ones that have seen too many grainy tectonic plates and water cycle diagrams. “And why do you insist on full-naming her?”
“I know someone whose name sounds the exact same. As far as I’m concerned, our Nakyoung’s the other Naky.” You place your hand on the small of her back and lead her away from the doorway, and she walks with you without a second thought.
“Mean. You’ll have to introduce me to this first Naky, then.” You slide into rhythm with her gait, and it hits you just how relieved you are for Yubin’s worries to be over.
It seems such a waste, you think, that laundry is the only thing keeping her away from celebrating, so as you walk out of the Social Sciences building, you bargain one more time: “We’ll be there all night, so just come by when you’re done. I speak for everyone when I say we want you to come, please?”
She giggles again, “I’ll see what I can do. It’s not like I don’t wanna be there, either. Plus,” she admits defeatedly, “we’re getting the results later, and God knows I’d rather not be alone when it comes.”
~~~
“Hey, where's Yubin?” Nakyoung slings an arm around your shoulder and shoves another mug of beer into your hand. It's a welcome gesture, and it takes all of two and a half seconds for you to down half of it.
“She has laundry,” you nearly shout back your reply above the music. “Said she'll drop by if she has time.”
Nakyoung makes to yell another reply right into your ear, but decides to pull you away into one of the quieter booths in the bar. “She's a goody-two-shoes, no? Laundry, oh please. Kaede hasn't done laundry in two years.” She takes a gulp of her own beer and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand.
“Hey. She studied her ass off for that test. I made a bet with her and it looks like she has high spirits, but I honestly dunno what I'd do if she fails.”
Your friend takes your chin up with her finger and you realize how pensive an expression was sitting on your face. “This is Gong Yubin. You know she'll kill it.” Nakyoung flashes a confident smile, and it reassures you almost more than your own trust in Yubin herself. “You drunk yet?”
“Nah, not getting shitfaced without Yubin.”
“Cute. You know she likes you too?”
“Go fuck yourself, Nakyoung. Go steal Seoyeon's boyfriend while you're at it.”
“I wish; she has him under lock and key. But I wouldn't really mind both of them,” she muses, eyeing Seoyeon in the middle of the dancefloor.
Just then, the devil strolls in through the front door. “Hi! You weren't kidding, it's really loud in here,” Yubin exclaims with her hands shielding her ears as she adjusts to the noise.
She takes Nakyoung's seat–you whip your head around and find Nakyoung at the dancefloor, with Seoyeon grinding against her–and picks up Nakyoung's old mug. She takes a careful sip and ends it with a relieved ahhhh, before setting it back down and getting to business. She leans in like keeping a secret, though she can't hide her toothy grin. “Have you seen your grade yet?”
“It's out?!” You fumble for your phone, and the second it lights up, cold runs through your veins–the email notification is the first thing at the top of the screen. Meanwhile, Yubin calmly slides her phone across the table to you. She asks “I read yours, you read mine?” with the sweetest smile on her face, again with the slight crease on her eyebrows.
Calm your nerves, silence the alarms blaring in your head. You know she did well, absolutely certain. However, it still doesn't soothe you enough; not until you see the grades for yourself. So, as your thumb hovers over her email, your heart nearly beats out of your chest, only to see–
“You got 87 percent,” Yubin states in the blandest, matter-of-fact tone you've ever heard. Her eyes move left and right over the same spot on your phone, making ultimate certain that she's reading it right. Once she is, her tone softens just enough, “Yeah, 87 percent. Wow, that's good,” she sighs with relief, “... Hard to beat.”
Now her turn, you peek at her score. doing the same making sure, and then some. When you read it for the fifth time, you kick yourself mentally for being so worried and having such little trust in the genius that is Gong Yubin. “Goddamn, 95 percent.”
Her eyes widen like sinkholes as her hand flies to cover her mouth. It almost doesn't matter that you hand her back her phone; she snatches it back anyway. Her disbelief chips away at itself with every run through of the email she reads for herself, and when she's finally done, returns her shocked gaze back to you.
“You were that scared of three essays?” you joke. The beer tastes sweeter now that your worries have gone, and as if all six septillion kilograms of the world is off your shoulders.
“No, three essays is easy,” she taunts, but immediately her voice takes on a gentler tone, “so I win, right?”
You scoff at her haughtiness, but your relief triumphs over all. “Yeah, whatever. What do you want?”
“... I wanna go home. This is enough excitement for one day.”
“Alright, let me take you. Tell me in the cab what you want for winning, though?”
“Sure,” she says with a tiny smile.
~~~
“So,” she declares. She catches her breath, and her face is overcome with a subtle red flush, “about the bet.”
“Yeah, about the bet.”
“I want…” and she hesitates. The cab runs over a mild speed bump, and the resulting sway seemingly knocks her completely out of focus. She gathers her resolve once more, as if every time she tries to speak she drops it and has to pick it up again.
“You want…?”
It's a good couple minutes of her breathing heavily, and your concern shows itself for her and whatever she has planned for you.
“Is it illegal? What could possibly be so bad that you're hesitating this much?”
“No, no, shut up. I'm working on it.” She takes one last deep breath, even placing a hand on her heart to steady it. “I want… a cum tribute.”
“... A cum tribute.”
“Yes.”
“You want me to…?”
“I'll send you a photo. And do it on that.”
“You want a photo of–”
“Video.”
“You–video?”
“I want a video. Of you. Cumming on a photo. My photo. I'll send it to you.”
There's no way the cab driver doesn't think this is weird. Then again, he has an earphone in, so he might not be listening in at all. You get the feeling Yubin doesn't care either way, completely focused on you.
“... Alright. You want it this bad, fine.”
“Good. Um,” she follows, “sorry in advance. It's gonna be my first time… taking a photo like this.” She refocuses her attention to the buildings whizzing by outside as she says it, the telltale sign the conversation is over. Still, it lingers in your head for a little while: Yubin's first time.
~~~
“Look, I'm sorry,” she sighs, “just come up with me? Please?”
You're standing with her outside her dorm, all the while the meter ticks away in the cab. The driver waits expectantly inside for you to get back, but Yubin's fingers wrapped around your sleeve make for a very difficult decision.
“Okay, okay, just let me pay the cab driver,” you concede, but as soon as you sum up the fare, Yubin snatches it from you and brings it over herself. She and the driver exchange a few words, ending with her waving him off and him leaving her in the dust. She waddles back with her signature grin: the one that tries and fails to hide her excitement.
“Can I just ask why you want it so bad?”
She shakes her head, “Nope. Now shush,” as you both make the now-silent trek up the four flights of stairs to her floor and room.
Upon entering, you immediately notice it's nicer than most dorm rooms: huge space, carpet floors, a big window, and two double-size beds, not to mention its own bathroom. It makes you stop and wonder if you ever glossed over any signs that Yubin or her family might come from old money.
“Uhh, give me a few minutes to get ready. The bed on the right is mine, make yourself at home. WiFi password by the light switch. Kaede doesn't like her stuff messed with, so steer clear.” Yubin then disappears into the bathroom, and you lay yourself down on her bed. You're made aware of how you sink comfortably into the memory foam, and of the disarming fragrance that wafts from her bedsheets and pillowcases. She's always smelled like this, you recall, but it's rather nice, you finally admit.
“Hey,” Yubin attempts. She sits on the edge of her bed next to you, wearing a set of pajamas and no makeup at all. You always knew Yubin was a pretty girl, God knows how many times she's been asked out, but seeing her like this is new; her allure draws you in with a smile and an embrace. Shit, was Nakyoung right? Do you like her?
“So… How do you want me?” She avoids your eyes and touches her fingertips together, a blush forming on her cheeks.
“Do you… Do you have a tie?”
Her ears perk up, “Yeah, hold on,” and she retrieves a thin, striped necktie from her dresser. She places it around her neck, her fingers delicately maneuvering the fabric into an intricate-looking knot, and when she's done, she presents herself to you.
“Take off your top, Yubin,” you tell her, and she hands you her phone with the camera already on. Point it at her, making sure the flash is off, and start taking pictures one by one.
She pushes aside the tie and fiddles with the top button. It's effortless how she undoes it, and she pulls the collar apart to show you more of her. She unbuttons the next, then the next, all the while showing you her smooth skin. With half the buttons undone, she shows off her chest, showing nothing but skin underneath her top.
You take a moment to catch your breath, swallow your spit. “Are you sure about this, Yubin?”
“Yeah… Just keep going, please.” She undoes her fifth button at the very bottom, revealing her midriff and making you salivate. Must be heaven to kiss her there, when she snaps you out of it, “Are you still taking pictures?” Am I that distracting?” Look up to her, find her with the same sweet smile on her face but with a new blush decorating her cheeks.
Her last button is her fourth, and it's undone before you know it. She keeps her pajama top on a little bit longer, covering her chest a little bit more, and finally she shrugs it off one shoulder. It's nothing but everything all at once, and the split second your self-control wavers is the exact moment you leap in.
You drop her phone somewhere on the mattress; both your hands grip her shoulders as your lips capture hers. She leans into the kiss, wrapping her fingers on the back of your neck, and tiny moans escape her amidst smooches that get louder the hungrier she gets.
Pull the top off her other shoulder, and she finally strips it all off. However, you can't even enjoy the sight, not yet, as you draft down from her lips to her slender neck, leaving a trail of kisses on your way. She runs her fingers through your hair before holding you in place, all the while leading your free hand to her chest.
She sucks air in through her teeth, “That's really good, just like that…” she moans as her head tilts to allow more access to her neck. The scent of her shampoo fills your nostrils and you feel yourself getting addicted, but not as much as to the softness of her skin.
She pulls you down onto the bed, and you find yourself leaning over her. Yubin lies under you, watching you intently and waiting for what you'll do next. Her tie sits right in the valley of her tits, and it drives you wild. Take a nipple in between your teeth while you fondle her other breast. She breathes heavy in pleasure, wordlessly asking for more and more of your attention and love. Her fist closes on your hair as she pushes you further onto her chest, her other hand hopelessly tugging on your pants.
It's all the message you need from her: your pants go, then your underwear, then everything else. Your cock stands hard in her sights, and the way her fingers wrap around your length is nothing short of heaven.
“Do… do you wanna do it with me?” Her question is purely innocent, without a single hint of malice in her voice. She rubs your shaft slowly, sending waves of tantalizing pleasure throughout your whole body.
“Do you have condoms?”
“... Kaede will forgive me.” She crawls down the ladder, picks out a square plastic wrapper from her roommate's dresser, and hurries to get back to you. The smile on her face as she comes up the ladder again is one of, if not the most beautiful things you've ever seen.
You guide her as she puts the condom on you, and the sensation of her fingers gently unrolling the rubber along your length only makes you more impatient. Finally, you hook your fingers on the garter of her pajama bottoms, and she lifts her hips to accommodate you. The fabric slides off her so easily, revealing her long, smooth legs that she seems desperate to have you in between of.
“Go easy, okay? I told you…”
“Yeah, your first time. I'll take care of you,” you reassure her. Line up your throbbing cock against her slick heat, feel her palm on your cheek, watch her flash that killer smile again. She bites her lip, and while you know it isn't on purpose, it makes her look sexier all the same.
Slide your cock into her, making sure to go slow. She shuts her eyes harder with every inch she takes of you, and when she moves her hands to your forearms and grips tight, it reminds you like a looping cycle: “Go easy, go easy.”
So you go slow and steady, staving off your lust for the woman giving herself to you. Each thrust into her sex is careful and calculated, though by the second you feel your calculations going awry. She pants at every good spot in her cavern you happen to drag across, earning her little admissions of newly found pleasure in the form of mewls and moans like a song you’d never tire of.
“Faster, please…? You’re so–ugh, fuck…” And the way she pleads flips a switch in you; plant your elbows into the memory foam on either side of her head while she takes your face in her hands. Yubin pulls you in for a kiss and it means the world to her when you grow careless with your lovemaking.
“Fuck, fuck, not too fast, just right, mmm,” each time you push into her cunt. The way she mumbles sweet nothings into your ear, the way she holds on for dear life and leaves scratches all the way down your back, she takes up every single thought going through your head: Yubin, Yubin, Yubin…
You scarcely notice how she's scratching your harder, gripping you tighter, grinding against you faster–it’s much too late to finally hear her warning, “I'm close, I'm close, oh fuck, fuck, aaahhhh!” as she explodes with you still inside her. Her pussy clenches around your cock in all the best ways, and you savor the feeling as she rides out her orgasm. Her knuckles turn white as she grips you by the shoulders, though all you can see is how her tits bounce with every jerk that runs through her body. Yubin's eyes roll to the back of her head and her mouth hangs open, a prolonged, deep moan gracing your ears as she ambles closer and closer to spent.
Take a moment, let her breathe. Every gasp of air in her lungs is like a blessing, and each one steadily brings her from beyond heaven back to you. Her hands fall to her sides as she pants out her delirium and replaces it with tiredness, and once she's stable she flashes you that killer smile again. It pulls on the corners of her mouth, showing the tiniest amount of teeth, though her eyes are nowhere near open. Plant a kiss on her cheek, then her neck, then receive her giggles once you stay and rest right on her pulse.
“You good? Still alive?”
All she can do is nod, having had every last ounce of her strength sapped. She lays motionless under you, save for her chest rising and falling with her breathing, and you know she looks to you for comfort and security. You take another moment to bask in her afterglow; she's never looked more gorgeous.
“Hey,” she whispers, and you swear it's the most tired you've ever heard her, or anyone for that matter. “You good?”
“Yeah, I'm okay. Are you sure you're good?”
“Yeah. Thank you.” She pulls you back down and plants a kiss on your cheek. Her lips linger for a second, as if she's taking in your scent made hers. You stay like this for a good while, just enjoying each other's presence, relishing in the warmth of a body that gave itself up for the other. You don't even notice when you slumped over onto the mattress beside her, but her head on your chest felt like the rightest thing in the world.
“We're not done, by the way,” she prods.
“What? Why not? Aren't you tired?”
“‘Tired’ isn't part of the bet. I still want that tribute.”
And you remember, you have a job to do, a debt to pay. It’s between your common sense and your lust for the hottest girl in the world right now, and there is a clear winner.
Pull back from her, off of the bed, and plant your feet on the floor. Firm and resolute, tell her: “Fine, on your knees.” The flush on her face deepens to an igneous red, and she scrambles to the floor in front of you.
“You're so pretty, Yubin,” you muse as you point her camera back to her face. Make sure the flash is off, and once you push the big red button to record, your other hand immediately takes her cheek and guides her to your tip.
Yubin's eyes flutter shut as she inches her lips closer and closer to your cock. The first contact is heavenly; just gentle kisses and licks from a complete novice pretending to be an expert at this sort of stuff. The way her tongue glides over your shaft, the way she plants kisses all over your cock with the tiniest sucks, the way she does all of this with her eyes gracefully shut makes for a killer video for her to get off to later. A blowjob from a girl like this comes once in a lifetime, so you resolve to give her everything she'd ever want from a tribute like this.
A moan escapes you, and she picks up that she's doing it right. With your subconscious approval, the hand on her cheek pulling further her in, she takes your tip in her mouth. Her tongue works overtime in running all over the head, paying special attention to your slit, making absolutely sure her spit coats wherever she can reach. She takes in more and more of your shaft, pressing her tongue on the underside of your cock as she does, all the while her cheeks hollow out like her life depends on it.
Tiny vibrations from her throat only add to the pleasure, sending shivers up your spine and your hand to the back of her head. For the first time, she opens her eyes, and the sight is something to behold: she looks up at you with the biggest, roundest, most pleading eyes, the epitome of cuteness if not for your cock she oh-so-diligently services to get what she wants.
Yubin takes you in just a bit deeper, slightly turning her head and savoring the way your length fills her mouth, when you hit the back of her throat, causing her to gag. She pulls back abruptly as a tear forms in the corner of her eye, and you have half a mind to pull out entirely to make sure she's okay. Instead, she never lets you–she takes your cock again, shooting you another pleading look before she shuts her eyes and bobs her head onto your cock again and again.
Luckily, you pick up on her message; Snake your fingers through her hair, grab a fistful, make her yours. A moan rises from her throat once again, and she steadies herself with her hands on your thighs in preparation. She's ready.
Pull her in as far as she can take, and it's a good most of your shaft before she gags again. Offer her no breathing room, bob her head onto your cock over and over, all the while more of her slobber coats your length, some of it falling off her lips and onto her chest and lap. She never fights, only takes–soon the gagging is replaced by an obedient, rhythmic gluck-gluck-gluck than you're sure even she'd find hot if she could think straight. Instead, her phone picks up every sight and sound for her to enjoy later, while you both enjoy each other now.
It's everything all at once: the sight of Gong Yubin's plump, sexy lips around your shaft, the feeling of her tongue relentlessly dragging over every inch of your cock, the sound of your tip meeting her throat again and again while her groans fight their way out. “Yubin… I'm close,” you confess, but with her eyes still shut and her tongue still going crazy all over you, you don't think she heard. So make the decision yourself: yank her hard off your cock, rub your shaft right against her delicious lips. Once she exits her daze, she takes your dick in her hand and rubs all across the length. Tears fall from the corner of her eyes and her lips give off the slightest tremble, but she's resolute in what she wants to earn from you.
It takes no time at all until you reach your limit. It's the best handjob anyone has ever probably given, but it's that one last kiss from her, right on your tip, that sends you over the edge. One last groan, one last jerk, one last tug of her hair, and your orgasm hits. Your cum shoots out in ropes, all landing on her face and tits. She's determined to receive everything from you, so it's only right to give her exactly what she wants. She shuts her eyes again, but her mouth stays wide open to catch whatever she can of it–she never stops jerking you off even as your cum falls onto her eyelids, her nose bridge, her forehead, her chin. Yubin savors every moment and every drop, burning the memory of bliss into her mind as you coat her face with your love.
Your orgasm finally dies down, and you realize just how much she squeezed out of you. You're sure no one has ever looked lewder, your cum smeared all over her face, yet she proves you wrong when she picks up a fingerful of it to take into her mouth. She licks her lips, apparently loving the taste, while you love the sight of her acting so sultry for you.
Stumble back onto the bed, take Yubin with you. Both of you are out of strength, breathing heavy, and in the middle of processing that you just painted her face with cum–that she asked you to paint her face with cum. You barely notice the stars swirling in your eyes, but your sense of the situation comes back just quick enough to avoid things getting awkward.
“I think I wanna shower, so you should wash up first,” you mumble, still staring at her beige ceiling, and you can feel she's panting and doing the same without even seeing her.
Wordlessly she gets up and her carpet-muffled footsteps grow quieter as she heads to the bathroom. A door shuts, a handle creaks, a shower gushes to life. Your brain sits idle, making no attempts to form thoughts other than acknowledging the shower turning off and on while she bathes. It's calming in its own way, you suppose–taking a bath is one of the normalest things in the world–as if what you just did with her was a close runner-up.
An unknowable amount of time passes, and a fresh, citrus-scented Yubin emerges from the bathroom again. She dries her hair with her towel as she makes her way to her hair blower, but not before shooting you a gorgeous smile and a head tilt to the bathroom to let you know it's your turn.
~~~
Leaving the bathroom yourself, you find a dark bedroom, save only for a yellow lamp shining against a nearby wall. Yubin is sitting up in her bed and scrolling on her phone, and once she spots you, she beckons you over.
“Look, funny,” she whispers with a giggle, and she shows you a clip of a guy much too excited about a truck looking like Optimus Prime.
“Yeah. Hey, listen, I'm pretty tired,” you attempt. In no way is this a lie, and you're sure she's tired too. You bet she wants nothing more than to finally go to sleep and end what should be a perfect night on a high note.
“Totally,” she agrees, “come on in. It's cold.” She lifts up the covers and looks over to you expectantly. Not that it dumbfounds you, but it throws you for a slight loop; she literally just said it was cold.
“Wh– I'm heading out, is what I mean. You should get your rest, too.”
Yubin's eyes take on a softer expression, “Oh, you're not staying over?”
“... Did you want me to?”
“Yeah…?”
Your eyes lock with hers for what seems like half a second and a million hours at the same time. You're stuck in place, still in a stalemate of a staring contest with her, and you're not sure even she knows what the two of you want out of the situation. Her expression turns into one of concern, and her arm holding up the covers falters just a bit. Fuck, you think, window's closing.
Make your choice, have no regrets. Get in the covers with her, and she lets them drop to snuggle up to you. Once the both of you settle, her head on your chest and yours on one of the fluffiest pillows in the world, she blurts out quietly: “You fucked up, you know.”
She navigates to her gallery and finds your video of her, and skips to a part near the end. “Your dumb ass stopped recording just as you were about to cum.” And the video did show that: Yubin rubbing your cock, eyes shut, tongue out and ready for your load, and the video stops.
“Shit, sorry–”
“This wasn't the bet. I wanted a cum tribute, not a facial. You need to send me a proper one,” she muses, “or take a proper video.”
Now that stuns you. You wonder how interesting her ceiling is for you to stare at it so much, but she snaps you out of it partway through by snaking a hand up your shirt and settling it right above your heart. Reciprocate–it only feels right–wrap an arm around her shoulders and pull her even closer. An exhale from both of you, and one last exchange of words:
On one side, there’s a mansion worthy portrait of you on the wall. On the other, wards and recognitions from numerous governing bodies with your name plastered in remembrance. The public knows about the brand than the people behind it; that’s how business works. Unless your name happens to be Musk, Bezos, or Zuckerberg.
You’re nowhere near their level of wealth and influence—far from it—yet this entire building’s future rests on your shoulders. It’s not as easy as it looks.
You’ve always credited your guardian angel for keeping you from harm your entire life. It sounds religious, but from personal experience, it’s real.
She’s guiding you from the secluded corner of your office.
—————
“And that’s how we’ll proceed with operations moving forward,” you say to the executives in the room—except they're not physically there. Their faces are projected on screen, joining from different countries, with some even joining from home. To be quite frank, you understand very little about your own presentation, and had your acting not been Oscar-worthy, there’s more that would appear absurd than believable. “Do we have any questions?”
For the most part, the top brass appear to be in unanimous agreement with everything that has been laid out. Not a single question, complaint, or rebuttal from anyone.
“Well done, officer. You seem to have a complete grasp and understanding of the situation,” says one of the chiefs, his ripe old age showing through his slow, strained tone.
Another suit, much closer to your age—albeit barely (he’s in his mid-forties)—adds, “We expect an immediate turnaround, otherwise we may have to cut even more of our divisions off. Should this plan fail, we anticipate closure of even more of our departments, including yours.”
It’s not the most concerning thing you’ve heard this week, but it’s definitely up there–at least top three.
Nevertheless, you remain firm and bow to your superiors as you end the meeting. “Thank you sirs. We will do our best.”
As soon as the video call ends, you let out this deep sigh of relief that’s been repressed the entire time. Thank goodness you have an entire building floor and private office to yourself.
“Well fuck me,” you mutter, seemingly speaking to the void, taking all the deep breaths you need, wiping the sweat across your head with some tissue. “Tell me I followed through on everything, right?”
“Yeah. Apart from mixing a few things, you mostly got it.” Yujin’s voice emerges from the far end of the room, covered in darkness, away from anyone’s view. The papers on your desk aren’t actually documents or paperwork. In reality, they’re pages of a manuscript with a few instructional, handwritten notes attached. It’s not even your own writing; they’re curated by none other than Yujin herself. “I’d say I wouldn’t have noticed, even if they were a little too obvious at times.”
“These conferences are fucking tiresome. Nauseating even,” you reply. Yujin opens up the blinds, and you stagger away from the immediate sunlight piercing through the room. Simply put, you just want to throw up after yapping all that incomprehensible jargon. “You know what—why don’t we switch places next time? I think you’d be better at this than me, like you already are with everything.”
An unusual comment for the director to make to his assistant, but it’s true. Yujin is so good in every department that it’s borderline farcical. She’s incredibly reliable to the point where you’ve basically deferred nearly every task to her, leaving you with the most boring parts of your job, which mostly comprises of company meetings and private calls. She’s a relatively new hire, having worked in your department for a little over a year, yet her rise up the ranks has been nothing short of absurd.
“Please, let’s not get carried away,” she softly laughs, flashing a lovely smile you never grow tired of seeing—and you see her as soon as you walk into the building till you clock out. “I’m fine with the research and paperwork. Regardless of what you want to believe, I think you sold it well.”
You slump back in your chair, somewhat bothered at just how unbothered Yujin is. How she’s able to take all your responsibilities that you should be doing, and without protest. One look at her features tells you all you need to know: that she’s happy to work for you. She could easily be in your position right now, putting you through this exact hell. She could be on that screen making those very threats on your job, in fact. Instead, she prefers to be your subordinate.
If that wasn’t enough of an example, she’s gathering the papers on your desk, putting them back together, good as new. Then she brings you a cup of water from the dispenser. She’s enumerating a list of other, just as unintelligible things that may or may not be important to your discussion earlier. Meanwhile, you’ve been sitting in that chair, your thoughts wandering aimlessly, thinking about anything that isn’t work. It’s almost noon, yet your mind just wants to check out for the rest of the day.
“Um—sir? You okay?” Yujin waves a hand right in your face, snapping you from your tired daze.
You tilt up to her gaze, eyes weary. “Yeah. I’m just—tired.”
“Do you want me to leave? I’ll go and sort out the upper management on your behalf if you’re not feeling well.”
“Don’t.” You rise from your seat, telling her, “I’ll take care of it. Go and have lunch,” as you point at your wristwatch, both hands closely pointed at the top.
“You sure? You should go have lunch too,” she replies, showing an alarming amount of concern that it’s almost comical. “Don’t worry about me.”
Shaking your head, you respond, flashing a light grin to reassure her, “I can talk to them at any time. T your break. I’ll call you when I need anything.”
—————
Truth be told, you didn’t want to see her for the rest of the day, let alone seek her help.
Yujin is only one call away. After all, she’s your assistant, down to working right outside your office. She’s working on whatever nonsense you’ve assigned her, showing no signs of slowing down. Meanwhile, you can barely call today productive; you’ve only completed two pages of a draft for next week’s presentation. In the time spent between slowly chopping away and stalking her from behind the door, her pretty profile a sight for sore eyes, she’s probably completed this week’s assignments and halfway through the next. She’s that efficient.
Hours pass, until the day finally ends at five. At exactly the top of the hour, she lets herself into your office, her pleasant attitude still in full bloom. “Already completed all the tasks for today. How about you?”
Yujin is not even trying to gloat—not in the slightest—yet it sounds like a punch to the gut. You can only slam your chin flat on the desk in despair, shooting a tired glare at her. She tries to muffle her chuckle, trying to keep herself professional, not realizing you’ve already seen through her facade.
“You want me to help you out? I don’t mind working an hour longer if you need it.” She’s peeking her head over the laptop display, examining for the proof of concept—or lack thereof. “Didn’t I tell you to leave this five plan strategy to me?”
This amount of confidence should leave you battered and deflated. And yet, there’s a sense of relief knowing Yujin will get the job done no matter what you ask of her. It’s enough to turn that frown into a faint, encouraging grin.
“I guess so,” you tell her, putting down the screen. Getting up from your chair, you close the window blinds and block out the setting sun. “Maybe I’m just tired of deferring all my responsibilities to you, that’s all.”
Her smile looks innocent, demure even, it doesn’t make sense as to how irrevocably kind she is to you. As far as you know, your employees consider you as shrewd and as scummy as your superiors. Forget that you’ve been working here longer; they consider everyone that isn’t their fellow rank a corporate dirtbag who’d step over others the first opportunity they can. It’s a vicious cycle. To have someone like Yujin feels like an anomaly.
“Don’t worry about it, that’s why I’m getting paid right?” she answers back, pressing her palms on your desk. “Just do what you can and I’ll handle the rest.”
You’re pouring an espresso into a cup, before offering the drink to her. “We should talk, Yujin,” you say, filling up a separate glass with your own. Your fourth shot. “You got a minute or two?”
“Sure. I always have time for you.” Yujin sits up, taking the drink into her hand, crossing her leg. It’s nearly impossible to look anywhere else but on them. As if she couldn’t be any more perfect, in mind, character, and body. “Is there anything bothering you lately?”
Sitting across her with only a desk separating you, the words never come out. You’ve got plenty on your mind: the messy state of your department, the unreasonable expectations and demands of your superiors, the possibility of losing your job—and Yujin. She’s sitting right there, ready to hear you out, but you never find the conviction to confess your worries. The next few minutes are awkward silence, only broken by the occasional stir of teaspoon and the sip of coffee. It isn’t that she renders you speechless, though one would fairly assume as to why: she’s pleasant to look at, among other things. It also helps that her outfits have been getting skimpier over the past few weeks. Unsurprisingly, you let the flagrant violation of the dress code go unpunished.
“Sir? Is everything okay?” Yujin leans her head forward, noticing that you’re lost in thought. She places her cup on the desk. “What’s wrong?”
Your eyebrows instinctively rise. That glimmer of hope you showed moments ago disappears. What’s left is despair. “I think we might be fucked, Yujin.”
“Fucked? What do you mean by that?”
“We’re fucked. Like, we could be out of a job fucked.”
“Explain?” Yujin cannot comprehend it—then again, anyone else would react the same way. “Didn’t we give the board a five step plan earlier today?”
“We did,” you reply, finally mustering the strength to meet her eyes. “But here’s the thing: we don’t have the financial or human capacity to execute the plan. At least, in the time they demanded.”
“And? We did the research and even the hypotheticals!” You’ve never heard Yujin raise her voice even once—until now. “What could go wrong exactly?”
“They think we can course correct years worth of bad financial decisions in just a few months. That’s the problem. Either way, we’re fucked.”
“I don’t believe you.” Yujin forcefully rises from her seat, threatening to flip the desk. If she only had the strength. “After all the time I spent working on it, you want to wave the white flag and give up?”
You don’t really know how to answer her. At least, in a way that’s remotely graceful and easy to understand.
“I’m sorry, Yuj, but no matter what—”
“I’m trying—so fucking hard—” she huffs, her fist clenching, trembling violently— “to carry your fucking ass so that we could keep our livelihoods. And not just me or you, but also the hundreds working for us! I know you fucking hate their guts because they’ve said nothing but terrible things about you, and even if none of that is true because I know you better than anyone else in this fucking building, at least have the decency to salvage whatever’s left instead of being a fucking coward for once!”
Yujin doesn’t notice that she’s been outright screaming into your face. You’re taken aback, utterly in disbelief at what she just aired out. If she wasn’t kindness incarnate, she likely would have pulled you by the shirt and choked you till you passed out. She blinks. The realization hits, and she begins to crumble.
“Sorry” is the only thing she can say, in quiet mumbles, slowly falling back onto her chair. Her hands cover the lower half of her face, completely mortified. Her eyes are on the verge of tears before giving out and crying waterfalls. Eventually, she lowers her head out of shame.
Even before entrusting her with such a demanding assignment, you knew there was nothing other than divine intervention that could save your job. This wasn’t what you signed up for, and neither did Yujin. For the most part, this was only to save face. Your face. The board of directors didn’t have any objections after all, and were mostly agreeable with every step of the plan. Either that or their old age is catching up and they hardly understood a thing at all. Like you.
Nevertheless, it doesn’t excuse you from criticism. This is on you, and you should be held accountable. Instead of rightfully performing your part, you weighed down someone else with your burden. It’s the wake-up call you need.
Yujin shouldn’t feel guilty saying all of this and having to apologize. She’s crying on your desk, still softly apologizing between tears, “Sorry—I’m really sorry—” and your heart fucking drops.
It’s a terrible feeling.
“Yuj, please stop crying,” you mutter, caressing her shoulder. Seeing her look so defeated brings you more distress than anything, including the thought of losing your job. “I should be the one apologizing for putting you through all this. You’re right—”
“I’m so sorry.” She’s still asking for forgiveness, your words mostly going unnoticed. “I just wanted to—”
“You’re right, Yuj. I’m a coward. I’ll admit, I honestly wanted to resign the moment they brought this up. If they couldn’t do a damn thing about it, how else would I know? Seeing you figure out a way made me realize just how much I depend on you to save my ass. I should be the one saying sorry, not you Goddammit, Yuj. What would I do without you, honestly—”
She tilts her head up, her sniffling and sobbing unceasing, resting her head on your chest. “I’m sorry. What I said is still out of pocket and I wasn’t in the position to say—”
“Shush, Yuj. Stop apologizing for being right,” you reply, brushing her hair. “Look. We’ll go forward with your plan. You can write up the whole thing and I’ll present it your way. I won’t muck up in front of the directors, okay? Don’t worry about it. I’m not gonna quit.”
“Really?” She lifts up her eyes, doe-looking and glimmering.
“Yeah. Might as well go down with a sinking ship, so please stop crying,” you say, smiling. “You made me feel like shit and I don’t like it.”
Yujin laughs. Heartily.
—————
Even though that should havd been enough to appease Yujin, in your eyes, it wasn’t. You had to make it up to her in other ways.
“This place serves really good food,” you tell Yujin, digesting the sights and scents of the relatively small eatery. Meanwhile, Yujin sits beside you, eating to heart’s content without a care. “I can see why you love it.”
“How’d you know this was my favorite place to drop by after work?” she asks, chomping down on the last stick of her barbecue.
“I have my sources,” you tell her, playfully grinning, unwilling to admit that you’ve been watching from behind your car’s windows for some time now.
“Don’t tell me it’s Wonyoung, boss.” Yujin pouts, flustered and embarrassed. “I swear to God, I can’t trust anything with—”
“It isn’t her, don’t worry,” you chuckle, amused at her red-faced look.
“I really appreciate the offer,” she remarks, finishing the remaining half of her drink. “You shouldn’t have.”
“Hey, it’s the least I can do for my hardworking assistant,” you reply, gesturing to the lone cook for the bill. The charges go up to the hundreds, with most orders belonging to her. While she’s chomping away at the end of a large meal, you secretly foot it on her behalf. How she maintains her figure while consuming this much food, you’ll never know. And when she calls for the tab, she’s told that it has already been paid in full.
“Now you’re just being extra,” she says, facing you, looking insulted by the kind gesture, but in a playful way. Appreciative regardless. “I already told you we’ll pay for what we each ordered.”
Looking at the stack of empty plates on her side—when compared to yours—some part of you believes that to be false. You don’t even have to say anything for her to realize she’s not one to fulfill her own word either.
“Okay—I would have paid 25 percent.”
You can’t place any blame on her. She laughs—at herself. She’s so charming, a pleasure to watch, that you would let her slide, had this not been your intention right from the start.
“Stop.”
You end up laughing with her too.
—————
“Seriously. Don’t lie, you promise you won’t just suddenly quit on us?” Yujin asks, staring at you as you walk toward your parked vehicles outside the eatery. “This feels like a way to soften the blow.”
Both of you stop right in front of your cars. “Not at all,” you tell her, staring directly into her eyes. “What else do I have to do to prove that I’m not quitting?”
“I don’t know, sir. I mean—you, suddenly asking me to eat out—” she rolls her eyes away, skeptical— “You’ve never done that.”
The cold nighttime air sweeps all over you. Chilly, you rub your arms together, partially regretting the decision to cover Yujin with your coat. She’s relatively unfazed, warm in your garment; even more surprisingly, it fits her perfectly like a glove.
“I wouldn’t leave if it means I lose you, Yujin.”
It’s not the words you wanted to say. Every part of that sentence leaves your lips effortlessly. A little too effortless.It’s an unconfessed confession, waiting for the right moment to be spoken. Sure, she may interpret it as merely you being codependent on her when it comes to work, but there’s no way there isn’t some kind of other, deeper meaning behind them.
“Lose me? What does that mean?” She asks, even more curious. Of course, Yujin isn’t the brain of your operations for nothing. It isn’t surprising when she figures you out. “You like me, don’t you?”
Just like that, the tables have turned. You can’t deny your feelings any longer.
You gently nod. Perhaps the killing blow could be softer if you find closure, right here, right now.
She leans forward, both of you unable to do anything other than to stare into each other’s deep, longing eyes. The tension between you is the only source of heat in the midst of a cold, lonely night.
By all accounts, the relationship between you and Yujin is strictly professional. Apart from a few trips abroad, you keep all conversations business related. Mind-numbing, confusing agency jargon. It’s a helpful practice in keeping your space; no matter how attractive she may look and saccharine she may sound, no amount of pleasantry can make company discussion remotely close to entertaining. You’d rather play with the blinds in your office. She’s doing her part too: clock in at nine, clock out at five on the dot. It’s a healthy routine. After hour talks between you are rare. It’s common practice to maintain a firm working relationship. It’s also just common sense. Good organization begins at the top.
Moments like these are strong reminders on why you avoid crossing that line. Yet you don’t stop—not when she’s the one making the first move.
You kiss. Your lips stay a little longer than they should. The taste lingers.
You find solace in each other's warmth, in a comforting embrace. She rests her head on your chest, her hands gripping into your shirt tightly. Deep down, you both recognize you’re on borrowed time. Whether through your promotion or your release, you won’t be together for much long. Countless hours spent together, so many occasions—the opportunities are being handed to you on a silver platter, only for you not to take the chance.
Not anymore. You won’t make the same mistake again.
—————
Driving her home was easy; finding your way into your room was half the battle.
“It took us this long to share a room, huh?” Yujin huffs against your face, finding and capturing your lips even in an erratic, volatile environment. She’s pushing you against the wall, her palms having an iron grip on your cheeks, pulling you close and wildly kissing you. The entire trip up to your apartment floor has been nothing but shaky kisses and clothes slowly scattering from the elevator to your front door.
“We should have done this a long time ago,” you manage to mutter, holding her face away for a brief respite to answer, only to be forced back in once again. Any semblance of professionalism between you is abandoned for fiery, passionate lovemaking, future relationships be damned.
The most surprising thing is how it isn’t as messy as it may look. See, despite the bite marks on your skin, the wrinkles in your clothes, and the rather loud, unceremonious manner you enter your apartment, you’re still in the process slowly unraveling. There’s a conscious effort to make sure neither side comes out completely in ruins. A silent agreement between you.
Her hands lay claim to your shirt, threatening to tear you apart if you don’t do the same to her. She lifts her head when you quickly peel through her long skirt; you dive in and make it yours. The crack in her voice as she mewls tickles your ears just right. Slowly spreading her legs wide, pulling the panties down her well defined thighs. In response, she tugs at your shirt, popping a few buttons loose. It isn’t as easy as it looks to have Yujin pinned against the wall; she’s actively fighting, trying to seize back control. If she can’t have her way with you, at the very least she can rein you in. Only now do you realize the danger your little escapede.
With her slender legs wrapped around your waist, you can only do so much. Yujin can’t stop kissing you, leading your gaze to anywhere but her pretty, lust-ridden expressions. She wants this more than you do. Against your desires, you end up in the kitchen, propping her on the bar counter as lipstick covers your entire face. The brief respite when she catches her breath gives you ample time to unbutton the rest of your shirt before tossing it aside—something you don’t give her the decency to finish.
While she’s still staggering, lost in her own thoughts, you take her by the shoulder and leave a fresh mark on her neck. A distraction. More importantly, your fingers feel their way around the back of her dress, find the touch of metal—and yank. The zipper follows, the lengthy garment gradually coming undone, until Yujin pushes the rest of it off her shoulders and to the floor. Your eyes gleam like starlight as her bra reveals itself, taking countless mental snapshots at that moment.
Not even her attempts to redirect your attention can pull you away.
You push her down on the marble surface. The bar is big enough to fit you both. Joining her atop the counter, your gaze wanders down her divine figure—and you don’t know where to start. Everything about Yujin is designed to be as perfect as humanly possible. No one should be flawless.
“How can you be any more perfect, Yuj,” you mutter, eyes roaming everywhere, soaking in the immaculate sight before you. “How did I not want you any sooner?”
Yujin’s hand traces down your arm. “You could have just asked. My previous employers did. It was a regular part of the job for me.”
You’re shaking your head. Imagine that—an employer taking advantage of their employee offering themselves without any restraint. You would never—except you already did. Your previous assistant can vouch.
“Don’t feel sorry. I want this just as much as you do,” she adds, pulling you towards her face for a soft kiss, clearing all doubt. “Besides, you’re not that much different from any of them. Why stop now?”
“Not that different? Were they just as codependent on you as I am?”
Nodding in agreement, she laughs.
“God fucking dammit.”
You sigh. Yujin continues laughing. What a momentum killer. And the worst part is, it’s self-inflicted and completely avoidable. You should have just kept going, kept her speechless.
Still, it’s not the end of the world. You’re on top of Yujin; she has no intention of leaving you anytime soon. Most importantly, she’s unhooking her bra while you’re caught up in your feelings. “But—there’s one difference: I actually love working for you. I wouldn’t mind letting you use me.”
“You love working for me? Why?”
She’s biting her lip, grabbing you by the back of your head. “You’ll find out yourself. You know what to do.”
“What? How?” The word comes out panicked, desperate.
Yujin shakes her head, the smirk on her lips twisting, wicked. “You know how.”
At first, finding what she means proves to be a struggle. After all, Yujin’s not the mysterious type. She always tells you everything straight, condenses complex conversations into digestible servings for easy consumption. It’s not in her character. Yet, one look at what’s in front of you—her naked frame casually lying beneath yours, her hands running all over your bare self—the realization hits you like lightning, and you’re mentally punching yourself for being so dangerously oblivious.
You kiss her on the lips again. You can’t get enough. You’d happily stay in this position all night long. Except that isn’t what she wants. She wants you to go further.
So you sink further and further down. The closer you get, the more she opens up. A sloppy trail follows your lips, from her chin, to her collarbones, to her chest and navel, and everything else in between. She’s soft to the touch, so flexible and malleable—every part of her, you make yours. Then you get to her core, her inner thighs spreading, and watch as it unravels before you, quivering, soaked, needy. You look into each other’s eyes, hers anticipating. There’s a craze behind your irises, as if some repressed need is crawling back to the surface. It’s slowly driving you wild.
Your name drips on the edge of Yujin’s mouth—a sign of impatience—before suddenly cracking at the point of impact. She rolls her head back, her voice reduced to an airy sigh as your tongue licks up her slit, her entrance, in a slow upward motion. It takes every ounce of your willpower not to devolve into a hungry, primal mess. Her thighs close in and clamp you down, suffocating you while you become more familiar with the sensation and taste of her dripping cunt.
If only you could hear the full extent of her moans, turning a pitch higher with each passing swipe and slurp. You’re humming into her core, satiated and fulfilled with the taste of her slick in your mouth. Yujin’s hands stretch out for help, for stability as pleasure gradually overwhelms her. Propped underneath her thighs, your hands dig under to reach places that your tongue can’t. She grows erratics, restless, moved by your presence inside her.
“Fuck!” The profanity escapes her lips instinctually, like it’s always been a part of her. She’s writhing, jaw slack, her back arched over the bar, her hands now grasping on your hair, then on the edges again. On your side, the pressure her thighs bring leave you suffocating. It’s too much. You should be begging for your life; instead, you’re enjoying every minute, slowing your pace every now and then to savor the feeling.
Despite her state, she’s caught you by the wrists. They do little in stopping your tongue from consuming every inch of her, and you end up pushing her forward. You grip her by her thighs and spread her wide. She can’t resist. Fresh air has never felt more soothing to the lungs. By the way you have her legs dangled up in the air, you’re threatening to pull a nerve. She’s screaming, crying out in desperation,
Still, it doesn’t change the outcome. Yujin finally loses herself completely and comes undone. She cums—blasts jets of slick all over your face and mouth. The counter pools with the aftermath of her orgasm, and you lick it all up, sanitation be damned.
When you finally emerge from the depths of her tight, drenched cunt, she remains a mess, stamina completely drained, body still trembling from her massive climax. You’d think after that, she would be incapacitated for the night, until—
“Wait.” Yujin deeply exhales, pulls you by the wrist. You aren’t exactly going anywhere. As if struck by lightning, she suddenly rises up. A shit-eating grin forms on her lips, as if the damage wasn’t enough to take her down. There’s a familiar look in her eyes—the gaze of a woman who needs more.
She flicks a sample of her slick from the spot on the counter and laps it up, still eying you with unceasing lust. You remember her words, the question to ponder: “You’re gonna tell me now?”
Yujin blankly stares. The question lingers for a little while. “Tell you what?” she replies, the tone convincing enough to feign innocence.
“Why you love working for me.”
She smiles again, a teasing look. “You’re halfway there.”
“What does that mean?” As you try not to overreact, your assistant turned one night stand tries to stifle her laughter. It almost goes unnoticed, until— “Yuj, you’re really getting on my nerves with all this vaguery bullshit going on.”
“It’s part of the fun, is it not? Do you want me to give it straight?”
“Yes! Like always!”
Yujin leans close. One hand reaches for your pants, the other still attached to your wrist. She appears like she’s going for yet another kiss, when she stops right next to your ear and whispers, “I want you to fuck me. Use me,” before drawing herself away.
On the surface, the stare you give her looks cold. Deep in your mind, the words resonate and ring louder and louder. Four words. “Fuck me—” “Use me—” The arousal bubbles up, manifests on your cheeks. The next few minutes can go so many ways, more than you can imagine. In your eyes, she’s still your assistant, a friendly, dependable worker whom you consider a close acquaintance more than anything.
The thing is: you’ve already gone far past the point of no return. Her gaze is enticing—demanding—you to keep going.
There’s no stopping now.
Yujin casually follows you to your bedroom, hand in tow. The rest of your clothes lie discarded in the kitchen—boxers, pants, and all. Gone are the nerves and hesitations; the attitude you have towards her is different. “Lay down,” you command her, voice steely, and she obliges, the bed flopping with the slight crash of her lithe figure. You won’t ever grow tired of staring at her naked body, regardless of it’s position.
She lays flat on her tummy, observing you rummage through your large closet of suits, pulling a red tie from one of the drawers. “Not the first time I’ve had something wrapped around my neck,” she remarks, raising a curious eyebrow, crooked smile unyielding. “Stylish, just like you.”
“I wasn’t asking for your input.” You’re never this stern towards Yujin. You toss the necktie on the mattress before joining her atop the bed. “Turn around.”
Like the good girl she is, she obliges. That’s Yujin for you; she’ll always follow everything you tell her, no questions asked. On her fours, her plump ass glides face up, in complete view. Another temptation, another part of her to claim as yours. Regardless, you’re in no hurry; you’ve got the rest of the night.
With your erect cock in hand, you line the tip against her sopping cunt. She winces, moans at the contact. “Oh, fuck—” she whines, lifting her head up, her nails pressed into the sheets. As inviting as the call of her tight, wet pussy is to you, you make an organized effort to resist the immediate lull to fuck her hard.
Even holding her figure with your other hand proves to be a nightmare. Her body enraptures you in hypnotic ways. The arch of her back, the curve of her ass, the hourglass frame—it’s a feast for the eyes. You could take your sweet time and worship every little part of Yujin and she wouldn’t mind, but in the midst of your blinding daze, she’s calling to you. Again.
“Are you just gonna admire me or are you gonna shove that big cock in me?” She faces you with a mischievous grin. “I don’t mind both.”
Suddenly, you remember your position in this relationship. You grab her by the throat, face her away again. “Quiet. I don’t want to hear any more from you unless you’re taking this fucking cock.”
Showing a little resistance, she tries daring you, “Then f—fuck!”
Her jaw goes wide, frozen in place, her voice abruptly cutting as you undercut her with your cock. You’re no better; pleasure sets your muscles ablaze as you thrust into her inviting cunt. It shows in the deep groan spilling from your mouth. Little by little, you plunge ever so deep until you feel yourself buried to the hilt. That’s when you finally let out this breath of relief—but not for long.
Her pussy clenches hard. Her heat proves to be suffocating beyond measure. If you don’t act quickly, she could end you in seconds.
“O-oh God—”
You slowly, painstakingly pull back before throttling your hips into her. Taking these short breaths, every little move you make is precarious. It’s not that she’s resisting you—far from it—but it’s you resisting the urge to cum so soon. Your mind tries to think of anything other than what’s right in front, but even that proves to be nearly impossible. The ripple of her ass, the slight wobble of her breasts, the twisting grip of your hand on her otherwise soft skin—
“So fucking tight. Holy fuck, Yuj—” You manage to mutter before you’re reduced to groans again.
All you can focus on is keeping yourself together while you’re slowly crumbing away. You find a rhythm in the midst of the madness, pounding away at your assistant’s cunt, your senses overrun by pleasure and the satisfying sound of your skin slapping skin. Elsewhere, your hands can’t seem to find solace in just one area. They’re everywhere; from her hair, to her throat, to the arch of her ass, to her hips, the imprints stay new, eventually creating a patterned sequence that immediately breaks.
You’re fucking these strained cries and prasies out of Yujin’s sweet lips, and it’s quite the mouthful. ’More,’ ‘harder,’ ‘so good—’ until it reaches the point where her voice is so worn from your chokehold that she can only speak in high pitched mewls. Another cycle you wish would never end.
Slowing your pace, you reach for the necktie, gently tying it around her neck while preventing your rhythm from disrupting. “You’re such a fucking perfect woman, you know that?” you mutter in her ear, kissing the helix and indulging in the scent of her perfume mixed with sex and sweat. “Perfect listener, perfect assistant, perfect body—”
Pulling yourself away from her, you yank the tie along—your makeshift leash. Her body tilts all the way up, a sharp screech suddenly filling the bedroom. You’re not sure if its from the pull or just her moan. Either way, you have her in your grasp. Brushing her hair aside, you mumble, “Actually, I don’t know how to use a tie like that. I just wanted to remember what it’s like to be the boss. Your boss.”
It should have sounded flat, like all your other attempts at being convincing. And yet, she leans her ear backward, trying to recapture your lips. Teasing a little, your lips make what’s considered the most minimal of contacts, before you push her to her fours. You don’t intend to pull on the tie again, but you’re still holding on to it like your most prized possession—and it may as well be Yujin.
“Of course,” are her first words uttered in a while that aren’t some combination of profanity and praise.
Grabbing her by the midsection, the rhythm of your thrusts quickens. You feel it. The imminent collapse. And it’s not just the bed quaking and creaking from your sex. She’s pleading now; ’So close,’ she tells you, begs you to let her cum all over your cock. In any other scenario, you’d acquiesce. Here, with all the authority, you’re going to assert your power a little.
“Say it. Say it and I’ll let you cum all over me,” you demand, your hand climbing up to her chest, grabbing at her breast, folding her up slightly that her grip on the sheets transfers to the headboard. “I wanted you so fucking bad for so long.”
“Anything for you. Just let me cum!” she cries out, on the verge of falling apart. Dangerously close.
“Tell me I’m yours.”
“I’m yours!”
“You know what I meant. Say it again.”
“I’m yours! I’m yours!”
Hearing her declare that she belongs to you with such conviction almost upends you too. You almost give in, but narrowaly escape thanks to your utter resolve. The smirk on your face is priceless.
“Perfect. Now cum.”
Just like that, her body reacts at the drop of your command, as if it was hardwired into her. Yujin goes numb—fidgeting, cumming all over your cock—as you continue to pound into her cunt. A single word echoes, going quieter with every incantation: ‘Fuck,’ she whines, caught reeling in her orgasm and catching every breath possible.
Eventually, it comes to a standstill, the only thing left is for you to crash. Lucky for her, you’re not that far off. You’ve let go of the tie, holding onto her shoulders instead. So now it’s her opportunity to turn the tables on you again.
“Fucking give it to me—oh I need it now, oh God—” Yujin begs, barely keeping herself upright in the aftermath of her climax.
And you just crash down on her, slamming her deep into the sheets, turning her around as you fuck callously, clamping her neck, her moans ringing into your ear. She has a leg wrapped arond yours—as if you had any intention of pulling out. You’ve spent enough time away from her pretty face; now you want to watch her take all your load deep in her pussy.
Yujin’s mouth melds in the shape of a moan as the pressure finally overwhelms you. Burying yourself deep in her, you’re still pumping, fucking your cock as you blast thick load after thick load in her warm, creamy cunt. The sensation leaves you breathless, hanging onto her for dear life as you wait for the moment to pass. Though it may seem like a couple of minutes, the feeling lingers far longer than you can imagine. She milks you of all your worth, drawing every last drop from your throbbing cock until your body can’t move any longer.
Eventually, your bodies wind up together, limbs tangled, wrapped around each other in a warm embrace. The comfort you both needed after a long day.
—————
You gaze down at a tired Yujin. Hours ago, you were the one holding onto her; now she’s the clingy one, wrapping an arm over you. “I really need to know, Yuj.”
She mumbles into your chest. “What is it?” You feel her soft lips leave lipstick marks on your skin.
You’re brushing away loose, dark strands of her hair to get a better look of her pristine, shiny face. “Why do you love working for me?”
After the passionate night you just had, you still have the gall to ask such a frivolous question. The answer should be obvious by now.
She looks up, smiling—a pleasant, friendly gleam, one you immediately recognize as soon as you walk through those office doors. “Because you’re the first boss I’ve ever worked for that isn’t a total asshole. Also, you’re good at everything.”
You raise an eyebrow and frown. “That’s not—”
“You know what I meant, boss.” The smiling turns into teasing. You realize, then you laugh.
You should be basking in the afterglow of sex, but daylight peeking through your curtain says otherwise. You’re so tired, you can’t move a muscle, let alone grab the phone from the living room to tell the time. All you know is that you should be at work by now, and so should Yujin.
The ring from your phone can be heard loud and clear, even a room and clothing pocket away. As you try to lift your head, Yujin meets you halfway, kissing you before laying you back down.
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll write up your leave of absence. Besides, I could use some time off too,” she says, inching her face close to yours.
The notion frightens you. Yujin, your most reliable assistant, never missing a day that isn’t considered a holiday, not by your side when you need her.
And you need her now more than ever.
“Time off? When?”
“From now. Until you say we’re done.”
—————
(A/N: :bsadcorner:)
(Missing IVE's first proper world tour will always be one of my K-pop low points, even if I already watched and even shared an interaction with them. Goddammit, I can already expect the prices and perks for their next tour will be even more expensive than it already is. Sigh. Anyway, I hope they get their well deserved time off. Thank you for reading!)
author's note: this fic was inspired by an ask from an anon. Another thing to mention is that I put another female character here for the plot, and the idea is to let the readers use their imaginations and put any likenesses they want onto this character.
p.s. I know Gyuri is no longer part of fromis_9 but for masterlist-keeping purposes, I wrote it anyway.
-
High school: the most memorable part of education for most people, including yourself. Sure, it’s not all smiles and giggles; you’ve had your fair share of struggles and hardships in the last 3 years. That being said, you still have a lot of things to be thankful for, such as your sweetheart, Gyuri, who you have known since you both were kids living next to each other. You’ve been very lucky to have her by your side through everything.
You see Gyuri talking to a bunch of mutual friends, celebrating each other’s graduation. You see her eyes light up and her lips curling in a smile when she sees you walking up to her. Gyuri excuses herself and approaches you for a hug. “Congratulations on being the best graduate, babe”, she says, “I’m so proud of you”. You mindlessly put your palms on her waist, “thank you, baby. Congratulations to you as well”. The headmaster, at one point in the ceremony, announced the top 3 graduates who have had the best grades, and you “beat” Gyuri for the first place just by some odd decimals.
“We have things to talk about, babe, but let’s enjoy the moment for now”, Gyuri says as she places a hand on your chest. You’re not sure what she wants to talk about, but considering that she said that without a smile, you’re nervous. “Sure, baby; we’ll go to the river tonight, okay?”, you say. Gyuri smiles slightly at you and leaves, so you take it as a sign of her wanting to keep the conversation for later.
-
Gyuri told you to go home without her because she wanted to talk to her friends more. She might not be the biggest social butterfly out there, but she keeps those she deems important within arm’s length. You agreed to her suggestion, so here you are, walking alone through the neighborhood to get home. For some odd reason, you start… missing her. You try asking yourself where this feeling is coming from, but you end up with none instead. Amid cluelessness, you eventually admit that only Gyuri can offer such closure—Gyuri would tell you that she’s here for you and will continue to.
No one is at home when you enter since your parents are on a business trip together. You head straight to your room and change into something comfortable. You hang your clothes tidily and look at it one last time. You smile and frown as you recall every single memory of high school: the first time you got perfect score on a test, the moment you nervously confessed your love to Gyuri, and the day where you sit alone on the riverbank crying because a teacher had been very mean to you—all those memories were gathered when wearing this uniform, the silent witness to every high and low of high school life.
You were lying in bed half asleep when your phone vibrated. You pick up the call from your dad. “Hi, dad”, you greet him, “I got home like 10 minutes ago and I’m now in bed”. “Hi, dear”, he greets you in return, “you’re on speaker and your mom is here with me”. Your dad apologizes for not coming to your graduation ceremony and asks how it went. “It was alright; talked to a bunch of teachers and friends and they congratulated me for being the best graduate”, you tell him, “I went home without Gyuri, though”. “Oh, that’s unfortunate; I wanted to say hi”, your dad says. You tell him that you’ll be seeing her later at the river, “she said she wanted to talk about something—pray for me, please; I have a bad feeling about this”. “You’ll be just fine; I’m sure Gyuri means well”, he says.
Your dad finally hung up the phone after talking about different subjects, such as offering you an internship at your parents’ company and potentially work for them after college. You asked if it’d be okay, considering the family ties, and he told you that it’d be indeed okay, and that the bigger picture is for you to climb up the hierarchy and eventually take over. “This is what they mean when they say privilege, isn’t it?”, you asked your dad earlier, earning collective laughter from him and your mom.
-
You hear the doorbell ring, so you rush to the door to answer it. “Hey, babe”, Gyuri says when you open the door, “were you asleep?”. You invite her in and come in for a quick kiss. “I just had a call with my parents. They said hi, by the way”, you tell her. “Do your parents like me?”, Gyuri asks, seemingly out of nowhere. You blink a few times in confusion, “I mean, our families have been close since we were kids, so I’d like to think that they do like you”. Gyuri nods gently, “good to know”.
You wait until the sun isn’t right above your head before going out with Gyuri. You offer her to get some sandwiches and eat them at the river’s park. Gyuri agrees to your idea, so you walk with her to a nearby shop for some spicy tuna mayo and egg salad sandwiches. She is oddly quiet during the walk, presumably floating about in the middle of her ocean of thoughts, but you don’t prod her as Gyuri probably has her reasons.
You and Gyuri take a seat under a tree on the riverbank. “This is for you”, you grab an egg salad sandwich from the bag and hand it to her. Gyuri holds her sandwich with both hands, but instead of opening the wrap, she starts sobbing. “I’m sorry, did I hurt you?”, you ask, concerned about her sudden waterfall of tears. “I’m breaking up with you”, she says, her words short but painful, “I’m so sorry”. You can feel your heart shatter into a million pieces, the explosion sending shockwaves throughout your body. “Can-can I ask why?”, you struggle to speak, “did-did I do something wrong? I swear I never cheated on you”. Gyuri shakes her head, “n-no, you didn’t do anything wrong; you’ve been a very good boyfriend”. As you’re about to open your mouth, Gyuri cuts you off, “I-I’m going to start training to be an idol”. “There it is”, your brain says, “idols can’t date, so she has to break up with you”.
The realization crushes you, and you can’t help but cry along. “I-I’m going to move to Seoul next week, and-and I want to start getting ready for that”, Gyuri says. You shut your eyes tightly, “and that-that includes ending us, doesn’t it? Y-you want to start burning bridges with people you know”. Gyuri turns to you and holds your hands, “please, babe, don’t say it like that. I-I just want something for myself—we-we weren’t supposed to end like this, I swear”. Gyuri jumps to hug you, endlessly apologizing as her hands are wrapped around your body. “I wish you good luck, Gyuri-yah”, you say as you break the hug. You want to say that you’ll be waiting for her to return, but that will probably never happen—you guess that she’ll forget you after a week in Seoul. Gyuri covers her face as tears keep flowing out of her eyes, “w-why does it have to end like this? I-I swear we were happy”. You remove her hands from her face and hold them with yours. “I guess that sometimes good things fall apart, sweetheart”, you say to her, your voice trembling from held back emotions, “promise me that you’ll do your best to chase your dream, okay?”.
-
It is when you lie flat in bed that tears start flowing out of your eyes again. Your brain isn’t being helpful, as it makes you recall every moment of your relationship. You cry and cry and cry until the dam in your eyes runs dry. “Good luck, my love; I’m rooting for you”, you say weakly as you wipe the tears on your cheeks. You roll onto your stomach and plant your face into a pillow, trying your hardest to calm yourself down and come to acceptance of the fact that Gyuri is no longer by your side.
After coming to terms with a broken heart, you decide to tell your parents about this. Your dad doesn’t pick up the call, but your mom does. “Hi, sweetie”, she greets you, “are you okay?”. She probably can tell by your weak and trembling voice that you are indeed not okay. “G-Gyuri broke up with me”, you summarize, “she-she wants to become an idol and we know that idols can’t date”. You hear your mom sigh, “so, what did you say to her?”. You hold back a sniffle before answering, “I-I told her that I wish her good luck”. You can picture your mom nod in approval, “not to be insensitive, dear, but everything will be fine; if Gyuri is truly meant for you, she’ll come back to you, no matter the distance between the two of you”. You accept your mom’s comfort and assurance and thank her for it, “tell papa about this as well, mama; I think he’d want to know too”.
-
You sit at a round table with 4 of your friends, and since you just met them this Monday, you’re still trying to remember their names: the guy with the glasses in front of you is Heo Gutaek, and to his right, between you and him, are the twin sisters Song Yuha and Song Taeha—obviously you remember Choi Jeonghan; he was the first friend you made in university.
Jeonghan, a classmate in Introduction to Accounting class, starts the conversation. “Hey, guys, there’s a new girl group survival show on BSK; you should check it out”, he says. He informs you further that the show premieres today and airs every Thursday at 6pm—it’s called Idol Academy or something. “Yeah, sure”, you say, “are you guys into music, by the way?”. “Yeah, I like boy groups more, though”, Taeha says—wait, that’s Taeha, right? Not sure, actually.
“Girls, I’m so sorry, but which one of you is who?”, you say to the twins, hoping that they won’t be offended by your question. It’s understandable that you can’t tell which one is who, since they go everywhere and do everything together—look, they’re even giggling at the same time! You’re starting to think that their brains are wirelessly connected or something. One of the sisters ties her hair in a bun and shows you a very small birthmark on the neck. “I’m Yuha”, she says as she points at it, “Taeha doesn’t have this”. You sigh, “well, I’m not going to move your hair and look for your birthmark every time I’m talking to you, am I?”. “I mean, I don’t mind being touched by you”, Yuha says softly with a wink. Your eyes widen as your cheeks turn red; there’s no way Yuha is teasing you like that after only having known you for a few days.
The cafeteria worker comes to your aid and helps you get out of the predicament. He puts down two trays full of food and drinks on your table. You let everyone pick up their stuff from the trays before taking your turn. You look to your left and see that the Song sisters have the exact same things: tonkatsu and sparkling water. “Do you always eat the same thing?”, you ask Yuha, who is the closest to you. Since Yuha is busy munching a piece of tonkatsu, Taeha answers on her behalf. “Yuha knows her way around food, so I usually just get whatever she gets”, she says.
You spent about half an hour eating and talking to your friends, and at one point, you bragged about getting the best graduate award from your high school. Yuha kept looking at you with a smile, and you were starting to think that you’ll be very close to her as time goes by. Can’t lie, though, the twins are very attractive, and their eye smile reminds you of… Gyuri. You let out a sigh, “can’t believe I’m comparing these girls to her”.
You offer your friends a ride to their apartments, and you find out that Jeonghan and Gutaek’s buildings are next to each other. “I assume you two live together”, you say to the Song twins. “Same building, different floors”, Taeha says, “I love Yuha, but I’d like to have some privacy”. Jeonghan sits in the front passenger seat while the others sit in the middle row. “You’ll have to tell me where to go; I’m new to this city”, you say to Jeonghan, and he nods in agreement.
Jeonghan types in his address on the navigation app and puts it on max volume. “In one hundred meters, turn left”, the app says in its catchy voice. In the middle seat, Taeha plays a song and sings along with Yuha, while Gutaek opts to bop his head along. “Wow, you guys are great at this”, you praise them, unfamiliar with what they excel at. Your praise makes the twin feel excited, and you can tell that they’re singing more seriously after hearing it.
One song finishes after another, and Taeha, before the next song starts, tells the crew that this is her and Yuha’s favorite song. “Let’s hear you two sing, Taeha-yah”, you encourage her. You see in your rear-view mirror that they’re waiting until the opening melody to end so that they can start singing.
한번 쯤 그려왔던 그 날이 올까 (Will the day I once wished for come?)
소중히 바래왔던 내 맘 넌 알까 (Will you know of my heart that was preciously hoping for it?)
오 빛나는 땀방울도 (Oh, even the glistening sweat drops)
언젠가 만날 널 위해 흘려왔어 (Were dropped to be able to meet you one day)
You bop your head along, enjoying the twins’ singing. It’s a shame that you don’t know the lyrics, because otherwise you’d be able to sing along—your voice might not be as good as theirs, but you enjoy singing along, nonetheless. You glance at Jeonghan, who has a smile on his face, “you’re enjoying this too, aren’t you?”. Jeonghan chuckles, “I mean, listen to them, man: they sound so good—I wonder if they’ll join the campus band”. “That is the plan”, Yuha says, “imagine if the band had twin vocalists; that’d be awesome”.
-
You were so busy enjoying the moment that you almost missed a turn. Thankfully, Jeonghan was paying attention to the road and reminded you. You scratch the back of your head in embarrassment, “sorry about that, man”. You stop on the side of the road in front of a building that Jeonghan pointed at. You roll down your window as Jeonghan and Gutaek walk towards the car after getting off. You give each of them a fist bump, “see you guys tomorrow”.
Yuha moves to the front passenger seat that Jeonghan has left vacant. She winks at you when you look at her, and you can’t help but blush again—thankfully, Taeha was busy looking at her phone and didn’t see your red cheeks, so you’re saved from double embarrassment. You shake your head rapidly and start driving again—towards the twins’ building this time.
“When is your birthday, by the way?”, Yuha asks, “I’m guessing you were born in the fourth quarter of the year”. You nod, “yeah, December 1st. What about you guys?”. “December 16th”, says Yuha, “I was born a few minutes before Taeha, but we’ve agreed to pay no mind to that—we’re twins, what’s the point of knowing who’s older than who”.
You stop on the side of the road in front of their building. Taeha jumps out of the car and enters the building right away after saying her goodbye, while Yuha stays in the car. “Can I ask you to come up with me?”, she asks, and her voice sounds oddly sexy to you right now. “Sure, baby”, you blindside her with a pet name, and now it’s Yuha’s turn to blush. “P-park your car i-inside; I-I believe we-we’ll take a while”, Yuha struggles to speak thanks to you.
You get out of the car after parking it in a vacant spot, followed by the still blushing Yuha. You show her an open palm, and Yuha shyly holds your hand. She looks down to hide her crazy blush, “f-follow me, plea-please”. As you’re walking with her (presumably towards her unit), you whisper in her ear, “are you actually falling for me, Yuha-yah, or am I ahead of myself?”. Yuha dares not look at or answer you, opting to keep walking forward until you arrive at her door. “U-um-um”, Yuha stutters, “I-I think I’m falling for you”. “That’s cute, Yuha-yah”, you lean forward towards her, “I like you too”.
Yuha turns her back away from you and quickly unlocks her door. You follow her inside after taking off your shoes, “nice place, Yuha-yah”. Yuha musters up her courage and stands in front of you. “I-I like you, but-but I’m not ready to-to have sex”, she says. You show her a gentle smile, “that’s totally fine, Yuha-yah; we don’t have to have sex if you don’t feel like it—I promise I won’t manipulate you to have sex with me”.
Yuha invites you to sit on the sofa, and you unquestionably accept her invitation. You look at the clock above the TV and see that it’s almost 5 pm. “The show premieres tonight, right?”, you say, earning a nod from Yuha, “I’ll order some pizza for us”. Yuha twiddles her fingers in timidness, “c-can I call you oppa? I-I’ve always wanted to date an older guy”. You laugh, “I’m only two weeks older than you, Yuha-yah—but sure, if you want to, you can”. Yuha grins in satisfaction, “thank you, oppa”.
-
You tape your eyes onto the TV while Yuha picks up the pizza at her front door. For some reason, you’re feeling nervous about this. Yuha puts the pizza on the table and sits next to you, “you seem nervous”. “I am nervous”, you admit, “something is making me nervous, and I don’t know what or why”. You pick up a slice as the show starts and take a bite. You see a very well-known celebrity entering a classroom set and he introduces himself as “the homeroom teacher”. “That’s new”, Yuha comments as she chews, “I want to see the contestants so I can pick a favorite”. True enough, contestants start getting introduced to the viewers after the host has had his moment. Yuha glares at you when you call a contestant named Lee Saerom cute—she’s of legal age like you, just so we’re clear. “Seriously? I’m literally next to you and you said that?”, Yuha rolls her eyes in annoyance. You slap your mouth a few times and apologize for speaking so carelessly.
You pick up another slice as more and more contestants get revealed. Your heart stops for a moment when you see a particular contestant. “Wait, that’s—“, the shock makes you unable to finish your thoughts. “Hello, my name is Jang Gyuri”, the contestant says. You can’t believe your eyes and ears; there’s no way you’re seeing Gyuri on TV. You rub your eyes in disbelief, thinking that your brain is playing tricks on you. Yuha notices your odd behavior and asks you about it, “you know that girl, oppa?”. You blink rapidly to focus on Yuha’s question, “y-yes. I-I went to school with her”. You don’t want to reveal to Yuha that you used to date Gyuri in high school just yet since it’d most likely ruin the vibes.
-
“Oppa”, Yuha says, snapping you out of your trance, “the show is done”. You look around the room, “o-oh, yeah, sure”. Yuha holds your chin and turns your face towards her. “What’s gotten into you, oppa?”, she asks, “you’ve been silent since that girl came out”. If you’re going to go further with Yuha, you’ll need to start being honest with her, and you think that this is a good opportunity for that. “Jang Gyuri was my girlfriend in high school. She broke up with me after the graduation ceremony to pursue a career as an idol”, you briefly explain to Yuha. She stays silent for a moment, thus making you think that you’ve ruined her mood. To your surprise, however, Yuha doesn’t act like her mood has been disrupted. “I did not expect you to say that, but I’m glad you’re honest with me, oppa”, she says with a smile, “I’ll be rooting for Jang Gyuri on your behalf”.
You’re pleasantly surprised by Yuha’s attitude on this, so you “reward” her with a hug. “You’re such a positive person, Yuha-yah”, you say to her, “I love you so much”. Yuha’s eyes widen, and her cheeks are painted red again. “O-oh, that’s so sudden”, she stutters, “I-I love you too, o-oppa”. You break the hug so you can storm her face with pecks, “you’re so cute, Yuha-yah”. Yuha plants her hands in your chest and pushes you away from her. “Th-that’s enough, oppa. My heart will burst if you keep going”, she says. You smile at her and peck her one last time, “I love you, sweetheart”. You see Yuha mouth “I love you too” before looking away to hide her shyness, and you feel a surge of warmth in your heart that you have not felt in the last few months of Gyuri’s absence—it’s very hard to stay composed and not burst out crying in front of Yuha right now, but you have to keep it in regardless.
Yuha mutes her TV so that she can initiate a conversation—or at least that’s what you thought she was about to do. Yuha positions herself on the sofa in a way that allows her to rest her head on your thighs. “Gyuri used to do this a lot with me”, you say in your head as you start petting Yuha’s head gently. Yuha grabs your free hand and places it on her cheek, “pet me here too, oppa”. You chuckle in amusement and do as Yuha asks, petting her on the top of the head and the soft cheek. “Your cheek is so… chewy”, you pinch her cheeks slightly, “very similar to Gyuri’s”. Yuha giggles, “really? Wanna have a bite, oppa?”. You bend forward and nibble her cheeks with your lips, “you’re so cute, Yuha-yah”. Yuha covers her face as soon as you leave her cheek, “y-you—um-um—you enjoy physical contact a lot, don’t you?”. “Yeah, thanks to Gyuri”, you say to yourself. You’re aware that you can’t say that to Yuha, so you come up with a different answer, “that is true; I especially like petting a girl’s head like this”.
You keep on petting Yuha’s head, and the comfort has sent her to dreamland. It is when you observe her facial features that you start seeing Gyuri. Yuha doesn’t look like Gyuri at all, so you suspect that your brain is playing tricks on you—in terms of looks, you must admit, Yuha can definitely make it as an idol, but you don’t want to give her ideas; losing another girl to the entertainment industry would be disastrous for you. You close your eyes so that you can put your mind at ease, as you’re sitting on a very soft sofa and a cute girl is using your thighs as a pillow.
-
The sound of your alarm stirs you awake at 5 am on a new day. In your half-awake state, you head to the bathroom to freshen up. It is when you’re fully awake when excitement and relief creep up on you—you successfully defended your thesis yesterday, thus marking the end of your study at university—and you find yourself giggling while looking at the mirror. “Congratulations on finishing university in 3,5 years, man”, you reach an arm out and shake your own hand through the mirror. You feel your phone vibrating in your pocket, “oh, Yuha is calling me”.
“Baaaabe, congratulations!”, Yuha says over the phone, “I’m sooooo proud of you”. You laugh, “thank you so much, sweetie. I couldn’t have done this without you”. You mean it with every fiber of your body; Yuha has always been there with you throughout university, being your equal in terms of grades, and occasionally beating you by odd decimals—the only reason you’re not graduating with her is because Yuha went on a student exchange program, thus “delaying” her thesis.
“Babe, I miss you”, she says in an aegyo-esque voice, and you see that she wants to change to video call. You accept the video call request and put on a wide grin. “Aaaaah, I can’t see you”, she complains. You turn on the lights with a laugh, “sorry, baby—what about now?”. Yuha smiles in satisfaction, “that’s much better. I can see my handsome and manly boyfie now”. You explode in laughter; Yuha is referring to that one moment on week one of the fifth semester where a professor called you “handsome and manly”. “Oh my God, Yuha-yah, until when are you going to tease me with that?”, you ask her, amused by her little stunt.
“I mean, I do think that you’re handsome and manly”, Yuha bites her bottom lip, “I miss your touch, babe”. “I mean, you refused my offer last time—there’s nothing wrong with that, obviously; you know what kind of guy I am”, you defend yourself. Yuha takes her phone and aims the camera at her crotch, “look, babe; I’m so wet for you”. She is indeed wet, as proven by the wet spot in the middle of her panties. “You want me, babe?”, you tease her, “you want to have your guts rearranged?”. Yuha starts touching herself and moaning on camera, “please come here and fuck me—I’m begging you”. “Well, since you asked nicely”, you show her your car key, “I’m coming”.
-
“Welcome—oh!”, Yuha yelps when you press her against the wall and hold her hands above her head. “Hi, baby”, you put a leg between hers, “horny?”. Yuha nods and starts humping your thigh. You look at her with a naughty smile on your face, “oh, Song Yuha, what would you do without me?”. “I-I don’t know”, Yuha breathes heavily, “I-I need you, babe, please”. You laugh, “the sun is barely up and you’re already horny? Fine, let’s play your game”.
You tell Yuha to take off her clothes first, “lie in bed after that, ‘kay?”. She obliges to your wish—Yuha is very obedient when she’s horny because she wants to maximize her chance to get fucked. “Y-your turn, b-babe”, she says, eyeing your body from top to bottom. You pull your T-shirt over your head, and Yuha responds by biting her lip. It is when your cock is free from its restraints that Yuha lets out a moan. “I haven’t touched you yet, why are you moaning?”, you’re amused, “are you that horny?”. Yuha defends herself by citing that her pussy’s muscle memory caused her to moan.
You join her in bed at put her in a mating press, “ask nicely and I’ll give it to you”. “Please, daddy, I’m begging you”, she airs her frustration for sex, “tear me in two”. You have no difficulty finding her pussy since you’ve had a lot of sex with Yuha in the past few years. You plunge deep into Yuha right away, her natural lube ensures smooth first penetration. You look down and see that Yuha’s firm stomach is bulging, “am I too big for you, babe?”. Yuha nods weakly, “y-you’re tearing me apart, daddy—harder, please”.
You oblige. You plant your mouth on Yuha’s neck while your hips pick up the pace. Yuha moans and screams as she feels the overwhelming stimulations on her body. She chants whatever nickname she can come up with, feeling desperate for an orgasm. “Oppa, daddy, babe”, Yuha’s brain struggles to choose a name, “please, I’m so close—fuck, yes!”.
A particular deep thrust sends Yuha across the line with a scream. “Pl-please, let me breathe”, she begs, so you retreat from her warmth to let her do so. “M-my legs are like jelly”, she inflates your ego, her legs trembling in front of your eyes. “Can you take some more or are you tapping out?”, you ask, longing for an orgasm. Yuha tells you that she wants more but needs to catch her breath for a minute. “A minute? Bet”, you start a countdown in your head.
As soon as the countdown reaches zero, you flip Yuha onto her stomach and pull her onto all fours. Yuha whimpers, “you’re gonna have to carry me around after this”. You slap her succulent ass cheeks, aiming to make them red, earning screams from Yuha after each one. “You’re mine”, you say to her, “the mark on your skin will remind you if you ever forget”. Yuha shakes her head weakly, “I-I will never forget, daddy”.
You plant your feet on the bed and fuck her like a dog. Her legs turned into jelly earlier, and it is now time for her arms to follow suit. Yuha doesn’t have the strength to support her torso and decides to drop onto the bed. You hold her hair in one hand and pull it, “who said you can lie down?”. Even though you have her hair in your hand, you make sure to not make it too painful for Yuha—you love her after all, hurting her is counterproductive.
Yuha begs you to let her hair go, so you do as she asks, causing her to drop onto the bed with a sigh of relief. “I’m close, babe”, you announce, “I hope you don’t mind if I cum inside”. Between her moans and screams, Yuha manages to answer, “yes, yes, cum in me, daddy”. You lodge your cock deep in her pussy and blow your load, “fuck!”. You pull out right away, and the lightheadedness almost makes you tumble backwards. The excess cum drips out of Yuha, and you take some in your hand, “nice and thick, just the way you like it, babe”. Yuha isn’t answering, so you move to check up on her, “there’s no way you fall asleep right away”. You roll Yuha onto her back and let her rest while you leave to get her some water.
-
“Welcome, new face”, an HR staff greets you in front of your dad’s company building. He hands you an ID card with your face and name on it, “I know who you are, but I was told that you want to be treated just like any other person”. You bow slightly, “that is correct, Mr. Park. I ask for your kindness and guidance”. He grabs your shoulders and tells you that you didn’t need to bow to him like that. “Your first assignment is to follow a senior, Miss Lee Haein, as she works with a girl group”, he explains. “A girl group? What are they doing here?”, you ask. The staff asks you to walk with him, “a subsidiary of this company is doing an endorsement campaign, and what partner is better than a girl group?”.
“Hi, my name is Lee Haein. I’m your, uh, handler—call me noona, by the way”. You shake her hand, “nice to meet you, noona”. Haein asks you to follow her to a meeting room where you’ll be, well, meeting this girl group before they’re handed over to the subsidiary for the actual endorsement. “Here, sit next to me”, Haein pulls back two chairs for you and her. “So, to brief you quickly, they are a 4th-year girl group with, uh, moderate popularity both at home and abroad. We’ll be working with them to promote a new drink”, Haein explains. You write down the brief in your little memo, “this will be the first time I’m meeting a girl group in person”. Haein chuckles, “just don’t fall for them, okay? I don’t think idols can date”. You show her your lock screen of Yuha’s selfie—she wasn’t wearing anything when she took it, but only her face and neck is shown on the picture, “I’m taken, noona; I’ll be just fine”.
You spend the time by talking to Haein about work and life, and she points out that almost everyone at the company knows that you’re the boss’ son. You scratch the back of your head, “I hope no one minds that I work at my parents’ company”. Haein giggles, “the fact that you don’t want to be treated differently helps us accept you in our midst”. You hear knocks on the door, and by reflex you tell them to come in. “Hi, they’re here”, a staff member says as he opens the butterfly door.
The girl group members enter one by one, and you notice that they’re wearing the same clothes and name tags. You write down their names on your memo one by one based on the order of entrance. “We will introduce ourselves—one, two”, a familiar voice says, “hello, we are Cloud Nine! Pleased to meet you!”. You’re forced to stop writing—you know who that voice belongs to. “There’s no fucking way”, words loudly slip out of your lips, and people look at you confusedly. Haein creases her forehead in bafflement, “what’s wrong with you?”. You’re snapped out of your little trance, “o-oh, nothing—I’m sorry”. You lock eyes with the girl on the far right; “Jang Gyuri”, you think to yourself, “fancy meeting you here”.
Haein invites them to sit, and Gyuri sits right across from you. “Hello, my name is Jang Gyuri, leader of Cloud Nine. Nice to meet you”, Gyuri introduces herself and has the others introduce themselves after. You’re not sure what to feel or think right now, but you can feel your heart beating fast. Haein thinks you’re nervous, so she takes point of the meeting. “My name is Lee Haein and this handsome guy next to me is a new employee at the company. He is the—“. You cut Haein off before she reveals your status, earning a pinch on the thigh from her, “hi, everyone. Nice to meet you”. “You look good”, Gyuri mouths to you, and you shake your head to stifle your cheeks from blushing.
Haein hands Gyuri some paper and tells her to pass it on. Haein then starts the briefing, “right, as you can read yourself, you guys will be doing a photoshoot and shoot some short adverts at a nearby studio. Some marketing people from the subsidiary and the two of us will follow you there. Any questions?”. One girl shyly puts her hand up, “c-can we get i-ice cream after?”. Gyuri lightly slaps the girl on the back, “please forgive us; she’s been obsessed with ice cream lately”. You put on a gentle smile, “we’ll buy some soft serve for each of you, okay? I promise”.
-
You tell them not to enter the studio right away and follow you to the dessert shop next door to get some soft serve. Other visitors turn their heads when they see you and the nine girls enter the shop, some even pull out their phones to record the sight. “Hello, can we get 9 soft serves, please?”, you say to the staff at the register. He tells you the sum, and you hand him your personal card. “That’s your card, isn’t it?”, Gyuri says softly, “thank you, babe”. While your heart does flutter hearing Gyuri call you that, you have something to address. “I haven’t been yours for nearly 4 years”, you whisper to her, “please don’t call me that”. You see that Gyuri’s eyes almost let out tears, her gentle heart stung by your words. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that”, you apologize to her. You see over Gyuri’s shoulder that one of the girls is looking at you, so you show her a smile and act like nothing happened.
After handing out soft serves, you ask them to follow you to the studio for the actual photoshoot. “I know soft serve isn’t the best thing to eat first thing, so I’ll get you some fruits and kimbap after this—is that okay?”, you ask them. “You’re not a regular employee, are you, mister?”, says a girl named Jina. “You caught me, Miss Yoo”, you decide to reveal who you are to them, “my parents own the company I work at—I believe they call someone like me nepo baby”. You hear some chuckles behind you, and one of them sounds like Gyuri’s.
You and friends—well, not exactly “friends”; more like collaborators—enter a photoshoot set, where a man with a clipboard is waiting for you and co. “Hello, my name is Baek Juwon. I’m the creative director for today. Pleased to work with you”, he introduces himself. After exchanging greetings, Juwon proceeds to explain to the group that they’ll take turns for pictures and then they’ll do advert shoots with 3 groups at a time. “Okay, let’s start with Yoo Jina, Jo Yubin, and Kim Myongji”, he says.
While Haein is busy talking to some marketing guys, you take a seat a few meters away from the photoshoot set. You get on your phone to text your parents about the first day of working for them; “I think I’m having fun”, you say to them on the group chat. You see in the corner of your eyes that Gyuri is approaching, so you put your phone in your pocket. “Can I help you, Miss Jang?”, you say as she sits next to you. “Please, don’t call me that”, she says, “I know we’ve been distant, but you don’t have to hurt me like that”. Amused, you shake your head, “distant is an understatement—you’re now out of my league, aren’t you?”.
You notice that Gyuri isn’t saying anything back, and when you look at her face, she looks like she’s about to cry. You fish a handkerchief from your back pocket and hand it to her. Gyuri uses the handkerchief to wipe her eyes, “I’m so sorry”. “I’ve forgiven you long ago”, you sigh, “I’m glad it turned out well for you, by the way”. Gyuri chuckles, “I know how cold you can be towards people, but I never thought I’d be on the receiving end of that”. She’s not wrong: you have this habit of acting and talking like you don’t care about people you don’t consider to be—oh, what’s the word—unimportant. You sigh, “there’s ice cream on the corner of your lips—clumsy as ever, huh?”. Gyuri wipes her lips with your handkerchief, “and you’re attentive as ever, babe”. You flinch a little, “please don’t call me that”.
-
Before you know it, it’s now lunch time. As you’re walking towards the green room for lunch, Haein says that she has something urgent back at the office, so she’s leaving Cloud Nine under your watch for the rest of the day. “See you tomorrow, noona”, you give her a fist bump as she leaves.
You sit at the big table with lunchboxes on it and ask each girl to take one. “So, what’s your story?”, Yubin asks, catching you off guard. “Excuse me?”, you say, caught off guard. “I saw Gyuri-unnie talked to you when I was doing the photoshoot”, she says—you didn’t know she was that observant. “We went to school together”, you answer her, not revealing the whole thing. Gyuri, however, proceeds to blindside everyone by revealing your past: “we dated in high school, and I broke up with him a week before the show started”. You slap your forehead, “my God, Gyuri-yah, why did you say that to them—the bridge burned down years ago”. Gyuri looks at her members one by one, “they deserve to know”. You can’t help but let out a sigh, “sure, whatever you say”.
Everyone stays silent during lunch, presumably trying to process what Gyuri has just revealed and figure out what they think of you. In your head, all you can think about is how Gyuri shouldn’t have revealed your past relationship with her and what it would have been had she not left you. You conclude that everything has turned out the way that the universe wanted, and that you have a plethora to be grateful for, like Yuha, for example.
“Oppa, I’m so sorry”, Yubin comes up to you after lunch, “I shouldn’t have asked you something personal like that”. You smile, hiding the discomfort from her, “it’s okay, I’ve made peace with myself—please, let’s continue our work and we’ll get out of here right after, okay?”. Yubin nods, “I like working with you, oppa. You’re such a cool guy”. You chuckle, “thank you, miss. You’re a cool girl as well”.
-
“Thank you for your hard work!”, you say to everyone at the end of the shoot, earning bows and replies alike from everyone on site. You ask Cloud Nine’s manager if they have other schedules after this, and he reveals that they’re done for the day. Gyuri comes up to the two of you, “oppa, I want some private time with him. You can leave me if you want to, I’ll have him take me back to the dorm”. Based on the manager’s expressions, you can tell that he’s not a fan of the idea, but he grants Gyuri’s wish anyway. “What do you want?”, you whisper to her. “I just want to talk”, Gyuri whispers back, “at your place, preferably, away from others’ ears”.
You don’t know what Gyuri has in mind, and you’re partially convinced that tears will be shed, but you give her the time and space anyway. “Follow me, please”, you walk to lead Gyuri to your car. “Nice car”, Gyuri comments, and you hum in response. “Remind me to lend you some clothes”, you say to her after getting in the car. Gyuri holds your hand that’s resting on the gear selector, “you still have this habit, babe?”. “Hah, she said it again—is she really trying to win me back?”, you sigh deeply, “yeah, haven’t got rid of it yet”.
-
“Have a seat, I’ll get you some clothes”, you point at the sofa as soon as you enter your apartment with Gyuri. You walk towards your bedroom and grab a T-shirt and a pair of shorts for Gyuri to change into—you guess that wearing a one-piece dress all day doesn’t feel comfortable for her. You take a knee in front of the sitting beauty, “I know we haven’t done this in years, but can I help you change?”. Gyuri nods gently and stands up, “I like that you still ask for consent”. “That will never change”, you turn Gyuri around and unzip her dress in one swift motion. You step away and turn your back against her, “you can continue undressing and wear the clothes on the table”. “You don’t want to look?”, Gyuri asks, “you haven’t seen me naked in years”. You roll your eyes, “I’m just trying to be respectful here; cooperate, please”.
Gyuri tells you to face her, presumably because she has changed into your clothes. “Cool”, you sit next to her, “so, what did you want to talk about?”. Gyuri holds your hand, “I still love you; why are you so cold to me?”. You stay silent as you think of an answer, “I’m not trying to be an ass, but you did this to me”. You hear subtle sobs from the girl next to you, “do you know how much I regretted breaking up with you? Do you know how many sleepless nights I’ve had, just spent thinking about you?”. You close your eyes as Gyuri’s words sting your heart. “Listen to me, sweetheart”, you pull out a pet name out of the deepest hole in your heart and hold her hand, “you did what you had to, and I did what I had to. We wouldn’t be in this position today had things turned out differently back then. Let’s not frown over things that never happened, because we have other things to be happy for”.
You hope that your words would comfort her, but they make Gyuri cry instead. “I would’ve been happy had I stayed with you”, she tries to hug you from the side, “fuck, why did I throw everything away?”. You never liked seeing Gyuri cry, and the sight makes you shed a tear yourself, “sometimes good things fall apart, babe, and we can only hope that they’re replaced with more good things”. “I hate not being with you, love”, Gyuri’s voice trembles thanks to the emotions, “I’ll do anything to win you back”. Your brain guides your eyes towards a frame sitting under the TV: it’s a picture of you and Yuha, taken after she surprised you on your birthday. “What would Yuha say if she saw me with Gyuri like this?”, you think to yourself. Gyuri sits on your lap, thus blocking your view, “please, please tell me I still have a chance to be with you again”. You smile gently, “if we’re really meant for each other, we’ll find our way back, no matter the distance between us”.
Your answer seems to be satisfactory, making Gyuri lean forward for a kiss. You put Yuha to the side for now and focus on Gyuri—you silently hope that Yuha won’t make a surprise appearance at your apartment like she usually likes to do. “I love you”, Gyuri says with a smile and teary eyes. She then points at the picture with her thumb, “who’s the lucky girl, by the way?”. “Yuha, Song Yuha”, you say, “I’ve been dating her throughout university”. Gyuri nods, seemingly in approval of your life choices, “she must be a sweet girl. I know you don’t fall for random girls”.
You pull Gyuri towards you for a hug and pat her back until her tears die down. “I wonder if you watched my show”, Gyuri says between sniffles. “Of course, I did—Yuha and I rooted for you”, you reveal, “she cheered loudly when they announced that you made the cut”. Gyuri giggles, “I hope I can meet her one day”. “Yeah, maybe”, you’re never one to say never, “she’d kill us both if you told her you’re my ex, though”. “Would she kill us if we have sex right now?”, Gyuri asks—conveniently, her tears have stopped coming out of her eyes. Amidst your fluster, you manage to answer her, “yeah, totally—I’m sure you understand why”. Gyuri pouts, “honestly, thinking about the fact that you have sex with someone else makes me jealous”. “You lost your right to be jealous years ago”, you defend yourself.
“Fuck it, I don’t fucking care anymore”, Gyuri jumps off your lap and pulls your shorts down, “I want you—right here, right now”. You halt Gyuri by grabbing her wrists, “Yuha won’t be happy about this”. Gyuri looks frustrated right now, “please, babe, just this once—I’ll make it worth your while”. Something is telling to see this through, so you decide to play along. “Hah, fine”, you say, “no one hears about this, okay? Not your members, not your parents; no one”.
Gyuri agrees to your terms, and she moves to suck your cock. You throw your head back and savor the first contact, “God, I’ve missed you so much”. Gyuri giggles, “I bet I’m better at giving head than your Yuha”. You thrust your cock into Gyuri’s mouth harshly, “mention her one more time and I’ll kick you out naked”. You take her gags as an answer—a sign of obedience. You take a handful of Gyuri’s hair and tell her to start face-fucking herself on your cock, and she does just that: Gyuri bounces her head on your cock, taking you deep and gagging occasionally. Feeling overwhelmed, Gyuri pulls away from your cock while coughing, “fuck, I forgot how big you were”.
Before the two of you continue, you have something you want to address. That being said, let’s move to the bedroom first, shall we? You pull Gyuri onto her feet and carry her to your bedroom. You make Gyuri sit on your office chair and kneel in front of her, thus earning a giggle from her. “You still like kneeling in front of girls, babe?”, she asks. You chuckle softly, “yes, I do—now listen to me, please”. You take a deep breath before saying your piece, “I still have love for you, Gyuri-yah, but I can’t dump Yuha for you—at least not right now”. “I won’t ask you to do that”, Gyuri rubs your cheek softly, “if you’re truly meant for me, you’ll find your way back to me—isn’t that what you said earlier?”. You’re glad to see that Gyuri is still the same understanding and mature girl from way back when, “I guess some things never change”.
Now that you and Gyuri have come to an agreement, you decide to continue where you left off. “Baaabe”, Gyuri surprises you with an aegyo—you know Gyuri finds her own aegyo cringe, “your sweetheart wants to be taken care of”. You palm your face as you’re amused by her little stunt, “what does sweetheart want?”. Gyuri jumps onto your bed and spreads her legs, “sweetheart wants you in between her legs—holy fuck, that’s so cringe”. You get on top of her and come in for a kiss. “I probably shouldn’t say this, but I’ve missed you”, you say to Gyuri, causing her to blush. “I-I’ve missed you too, ba-babe”, Gyuri looks away to hide her pink cheeks, “sorry, no one has said such thing to me in years”.
There are a few questions in your head right now, and to answer one of those, you need Gyuri’s help, “Gyuri-yah, what are we doing right now?”. Gyuri takes a deep breath, “I’m trying to steal you from your girlfriend”. You ask her to elaborate, so Gyuri adds that she wants to increase her chance of success by having sex with you to remind you of the old days. “I don’t know why you’re so determined to be with me”, you admit your confusion. “Because I really believe that I’m meant for you”, Gyuri says, “no disrespect to Yuha, but I know I’m perfect for you”. You’re somewhat offended by that; Gyuri has little clue about what Yuha is like as a girlfriend, and after nearly 4 years of absence, she returns and claims to be the perfect girl for you. “Is that so?”, you ask, your deep voice subtly laced with anger.
Gyuri rolls you onto your back and gets off the bed, “let me prove it”. She strips entirely before returning to your lap, and as a response, you take off your T-shirt and get equally naked. Gyuri wastes no time getting your cock in her. “Ngh, fuck, I forgot what it’s like”, Gyuri throws her head back, “is my pussy not perfect for you?”. She is indeed perfect; you took her cherry back then, so the shape of her insides is the perfect negative space of your cock. “Keep going” is your command, and you’re replied by a nod.
Gyuri lies on your body and starts sucking your neck while her hips are busy bouncing up and down on your cock. “I guess I’m not seeing Yuha tomorrow”, you mindlessly utter, referring to the hickeys that Gyuri is leaving behind. “Ah, ah—c-can’t you tell her you’re busy or-or something?”, Gyuri says, her breath irregular from the cardio exercise, “I don’t want to spend just one night—oh, fuck, baby”. You slap her plump butt once, “your manager will kill me”. “I’ll make something up”, Gyuri straightens her back and bounces faster, moaning and yelping as she goes; “cute moans”, you think to yourself.
“Baby, baby”, Gyuri closes her eyes and braces for an orgasm, “I’m about to explode”. You hold Gyuri by the waist and help her get to the line, “cum for me, baby”. Gyuri removes your cock from her pussy with a scream, and you feel her juice hit your thighs and pelvis. “Never knew you could squirt like that”, you comment. “Y-you never tried hard enough hehe”, Gyuri teases, her eyes still closed. You want to defend yourself and tell her that you always tried “hard enough”, but it’s probably a topic to be brought up some day else.
“Give me your cum”, Gyuri says after recollecting her composure, “hold on, actually; I want to feel your cock for a moment”. If pre-orgasm Gyuri was fast and impatient, post-orgasm Gyuri is now slow and gentle, the purpose being so that she can really feel your length and thickness.
“Baby, I’ve missed you so much”, Gyuri says between soft moans, “I regret everything”. The fluster throws you off, “wait, wait, let’s not say that”. You move to a sitting position and pull Gyuri onto your lap, “please, let’s not say that”. “But why? Why can’t I say that?”, Gyuri starts sobbing, “I do regret everything. I regret breaking up with you. I regret being a celebrity. Fuck, I regret hearing that you have a girlfriend now”. “Baby, please”, you softly call out to her, “we’re happy with our lives, aren’t we? We have things to laugh at and be thankful for, don’t we? You wouldn’t have had this career had you stayed with me—everything turned out the way they were meant to”. Gyuri presses her forehead on yours, “I’m so sorry; I’m so sorry for everything—fuck, I don’t want this career anymore; I want to be with you from now on”.
You’re torn: you don’t want to validate Gyuri’s words and send her spiraling in regret, but you also don’t want to leave Yuha—and hurt her—after all you’ve been through with her. Gyuri taps your cheeks to get your attention, “I want to leave my group next year and get married to you—fuck everyone and what they think, respectfully”. You lift her up and remove yourself from the warm cave, “you’re not thinking straight, baby. I can’t let you throw your career away like that”. Gyuri isn’t happy with the fact that you pulled out, so she impales herself on your cock again, “ah, God, yes—you-you don’t want to be with me? Make me pregnant and start a little family with me? I promise I’ll be a loving and obedient wife”. Gyuri has said multiple times that she dreams of starting a family with someone she truly loves, and you’d like to think that the “someone” she has in mind is you.
All the while you’re thinking about Gyuri’s words, thoughts of Yuha start creeping up on you. You have no reason to break up with her, as you’ve been each other’s solid rock, providing mental and physical support in moments of need—Gyuri demands your answer now, though. “Baby, how can you be sure that I’ll be a good man for you if I must hurt Yuha to get back to you?”, you try to reason with her. Gyuri bursts out in tears, “I fucking hate her. I hate that you still think about her when I’m right in front of you”.
You close your eyes and think of a better answer—something that can provide comfort or assurance for Gyuri. You’re not sure if this is a wise decision, but you’ll say it anyway, “babe, listen to me: stay with your group until the end of your contract while I figure out what to do with Yuha. Once we’ve done our part, I promise I’ll come running to you”. Gyuri shakes her head. “Not until the end of my contract—next year”, she emphasizes. You take a deep breath, “okay, fine—I pray that the universe helps us”.
-
Yuha asked you to come over because she wanted to talk about something, so here you are, in front of her door. You see signs of crying on her face as she lets you in. “Sweetie? Are you okay?”, you ask her. You make her sit on the sofa and kneel in front of her, “sweetie, talk to me, please”. Yuha holds your hands tightly, and you see that her eyes are coated with tears, “I-I’m moving to the US, babe”. Aside from the fact that you’ll be having a long-distance relationship with her, you don’t see other downsides to her moving to another country. “Okay, so what’s the problem, babe?”, you ask. “M-my dad wants me to marry someone as soon as I move there”, Yuha’s dam breaks, “so-so now he wants me to break up with you”.
In your head, you’re reminded of your mom’s words about soulmates, but you don’t want to appear insensitive in front of Yuha and make her think that she’s the only one holding onto the relationship. “Baby, with respect for your dad, I believe that he wants the best for you”, you try to plead with her, “maybe you’re meant for him and not me, as much as it hurts for me to say that”. “I-I don’t want to hurt you, baby”, Yuha can’t stop crying, “you love me, right?”. You smile gently, “I do, baby, there’s no question about that”. Yuha nods, seemingly satisfied with your answer. “I love you too, baby”, she says, “that being said, I’m breaking up with you”.
Yuha’s words sting you the same way Gyuri’s did all those years ago, so you can’t help but let tears come out. “You’re always obedient towards your parents, aren’t you, cutie?”, you say with a smile, “I understand, love—I’m breaking up with you as well”. Yuha jumps off the sofa and into your arms, “I’m so sorry; we weren’t supposed to end like this”. You press your lips on her temple, “it’s okay, baby. I’ll help you make peace with the situation and say that I accept this outcome”.
You hug Yuha until her storm of emotions passes by, patiently offering comfort for her. Yuha pulls away from the hug and looks at you in the eyes, “I’m so thankful for you, oppa. Thank you for everything that you’ve done for us”. You feel a surge of warmth in your heart, “I’m so thankful for you as well, baby. I’d like to sincerely apologize for my shortcomings, by the way”. “No, you’re always so kind and loving”, Yuha rejects your apology, “the sex is great too, by the way”. You peck her forehead, “good to know, baby”.
-
“Oppa, will I see you again?”, Yuha asks as she walks with you to your car. “I’d like to hope so”, you stop and make Yuha stand in front of you, “I hope that we’ll see each other again in better and happier circumstances, babe”. You peck her lips once, “anywhere you go, remember that I’m rooting and praying for you, every step of the way”. Yuha pulls you in for a kiss in response, “I’m praying for you as well, oppa. Goodbye, my love”.
As you start driving away, you see in your mirror that Yuha has started crying again, and the sight makes your heart ache—you know that her dad’s decision is final and that there’s no opportunity for negotiations, thus leaving you with no other choice but to leave Yuha. “I pray for your safety and happiness, Song Yuha”, you say to yourself.
While it is true that you’re still mourning the dead relationship, you still need to inform Gyuri about this. You call her while driving, and she picks up right away—this girl is always on her phone. “Gyuri-yah, Yuha broke up with me”, you tell her the summary of events, “can we meet? I want to talk”. Gyuri tells you to pick her up at her dorm, so you quickly drive there to see her.
When you arrive in front of her dorm building, you see that she has a cap and a mask—the classic celebrity disguise. Gyuri gets in your car as soon as you’re stopped. “So, does this mean that you’re mine again?”, she wastes little time to get to the point. You tell her to be patient and wait until the two of you get to your apartment.
-
Gyuri pushes you to the wall as soon as you enter your apartment. “You’re mine now”, she says with fiery eyes. “Just now?”, you tease her with a smirk, “you’ll leave me again tomorrow?”. She leans forward for a deep kiss. “You’re mine for eternity, my love”, she smiles, “can we order food, by the way? Me hangry”.
As soon as you lift Gyuri to carry her to the sofa, she wraps her long legs around your body. “I like that you make me feel small”, Gyuri says. You sit down with her and give her your phone, “order whatever you want”. “Okay, two double cheeseburgers and onion rings”, she announces her choices and throws your phone over her shoulder, “I hope that doesn’t break”. You shrug, “I mean, I can just buy another”.
“Okay, so, what do we need to talk about? Because all I’m getting is that you’re coming back to me”, Gyuri says. You stroke her cheeks gently, “that is the plan, but I have to ask: will you be mine again?”. She laughs out loud, “what the fuck kind of question is that? Of course I will”. The both of you just look at each other with a smile on your faces. “Leave your group”, you say to her, “I want your full attention; no comebacks, no promotions, nothing—just you and me”. You hope that she remembers her promise from a few months ago and commits to it. “Next year is my last, I promise. I’ll be yours entirely after that”, she says. You entwine your pinky with hers, “let’s not make empty promises from now on, okay?”.
You lean forward a bit to entice Gyuri into kissing you, and she does just that. Gyuri takes it a step further and invades your mouth with her tongue, keen on wrestling yours. You palm the back of her head and make sure she doesn’t pull away. That doesn’t work, however, as Gyuri still manages to break the kiss anyway. “Please, babe”, she inhales sharply, “I can’t wait any longer—I don’t want to wait any longer”. Both of you separate from each other so that you can get rid of your clothes. “I don’t want to wait either”, you say to her.
Your sofa is soft and all that, but it isn’t big enough for you to have sex on, so you take her to the bedroom. You let her continue where she left off and be on top while you lie flat. “I won’t let you pull out—oh, yes, baby”, Gyuri moans as she slowly sinks on your cock. You slap her butt a few times, “go on, make us cum”. She leans in for a kiss and begins fucking herself at your command, breaking it every now and then to let moans escape her lips. “You’re mine, you’re mine”, she chants faintly as she bounces on your cock at a steady pace. You can comfortably validate that, as you no longer have ties with anyone else but her. “Yes, baby, I’m yours”, you peck her lips, “you’re never leaving me again”.
Your validation works wonders to entice Gyuri, as she picks up the pace—this is usually a sign of her incoming orgasm, too. True enough, Gyuri announces that she’s about to blow. “Never one to last long, hm?”, you tease her. “Oh, oh, yes, fuck”, she moans loudly, “that’s your job”. That is a fact: you’re the one trusted to last long enough during sex, and you gladly do so every time. Gyuri screams from the top of her lungs as her orgasm hits her like a small truck.
Feeling weak, she just let herself go and falls limp into your warm embrace. “God, thank you for bringing him back to me”, Gyuri mindlessly says, “I love him too much”. “Too much? You make it sound like it’s a bad thing”, you say, earning a bite on the neck from Gyuri. “I hate you”, she says in fake annoyance.
You let her catch her breath and regain her composure in your arms. You take this moment to clear something up, “baby, I didn’t mean to tell you to leave your group like that; you can stay with them and extend your contract and all that”. Gyuri plants her palms on either side of your head, “no, I don’t want to; I want to be with you—can I work at your dad’s company, by the way?”. You giggle, “first of all, the company is mine—soon, anyway—secondly, yes, you can; be my co-CEO or something like that”. Gyuri accepts your answer, “well then, give me your cum, my dear co-CEO”.
You let her stay on top and thrust into her from below. Only now do you notice the bouncing plump tits in front of you. You pull Gyuri down to get in range with your mouth and suck a nipple. “Yes, baby, yes”, she urges you on, “that feels so good, fuck”. You want to know how she’ll react to tits stimulation after not having it for a few years, so you reach for the other nipple and tug slightly. Based on her scream, you can tell that she enjoys it—some things never change, indeed.
You unlatch your mouth from her nipple and announce that you’re close. “Yes—oh, fuck—please cum inside”, Gyuri begs you. You lodge your cock deep in Gyuri and blow your load, a vengeance since you were blue balled by her last time. Gyuri lets out a long moan as she feels the warmth of your gooey goodness. “My God, I’ve missed that so fucking much”, she says.
-
“Thank you for the meal!”, Gyuri unwraps her burger and takes a bite, “that’s so damn good”. Since she’s showed enthusiasm and enjoyment towards the burger, you unwrap yours and take a bite yourself. “Wow, that’s so juicy”, you comment as you inspect the patty. “Not as juicy as the cream pie”, Gyuri smirks. “Says the blushing girl”, you say, referring to her pink cheeks, “seriously, though, this is so good”. You lift the top bun off and stack some onion rings on the patty. “This should hit hard”, you say before taking a bite. As you’re savoring the taste, Gyuri makes another naughty comment, “doesn’t hit as hard as your creampie”. You pinch her cheek, “stop already, will you?”. After munching your way through dinner, you see that there’s only one onion ring left on the box. You grab it and take a knee in front of Gyuri. “Jang Gyuri, will you be mine?”, you say to her, the onion ring a substitute to a diamond ring. “Only if you stay with me for good this time”, Gyuri takes the onion ring from you and puts it in her mouth. You drop your jaw in shock, “I didn’t break us up, did I?”. She nods, “that’s true; I did. I’m terribly sorry for that, my love. I’ll stay with you forever—for real this time”. You reject her apology—not because you don’t find it to be sincere or whatever, but because there’s nothing to be sorry for; Gyuri is back in your arms now, and there’s nothing tearing the two of you apart.
To review and edit a video is often more difficult than one might think. It requires keen attention to detail, making sure that every frame is flawless and the narrative flows seamlessly with no room for error. Mess up a bit and it would have to go through additional rounds of revisions. Luckily, the initial editing appears to be free of mistakes so far. You're two videos in and instead of it being one hell of a frustrating task, it's as if you're in the comfort of your home watching porn videos in private.
It's nearly time for lunch. While everyone else is thinking about where to eat and what to have, your attention is still captured by yet another mesmerizing video in front of you. After watching Jiwon and Chaeyoung get ravaged by their partners in their videos, your craving for more intense and passionate moments only grows.
A video with a Panda Thumbnail catches your attention. As you hit the play button, excitement slowly overwhelms you knowing that Seoyeon, fromis_9’s resident rapper, is the main focus of this video. You can't wait to see how things will play out for her since she can portray both the cuteness of a panda and the fierceness of a tiger on camera. Once again, the memorable intro card for "Channel_9" appears and while it plays, you decide to include a brief recap from the previous video to refresh viewers' memories.
As the intro comes to an end and the recap plays, you prepare yourself for what is about to unfold.
The video starts with a glimpse of the opulent bar interior, featuring soft lighting, plush velvet furnishings, and a stylish polished bar. The space appears vacant as though anticipating some thrilling event. Just then, the camera transitions to the entrance where Seoyeon, dressed in purple office attire, cautiously opens the sturdy wooden door and enters.
"Oh! Hello to you all," she greets the cameras as she spots them one by one with a bow.
She's immediately astounded by the stunning visuals of the bar, taking in every detail with wide eyes and a sense of wonder.
"Wow... This place is amazing," she comments as she walks further into the bar, her voice filled with awe.
As Seoyeons steps further inside, she takes in the beautiful surroundings of the bar, with its elegant decor and welcoming atmosphere. The excitement on her face becomes even more visible as she explores the space as if it’s her first time.
After a few steps, she ends up in a large room adorned with a mesmerizing crystal chandelier that shimmers with a soft, enchanting glow.
"Whoa..." she breathes out in amazement as she gazes at the chandelier and everything surrounding it, fascinated by the room’s grandeur. "This is beautiful."
Walking deeper into the room, she gazes at every intricate detail adorning the space until she reaches the bar counter. A man in a sleek suit is standing behind it, carefully polishing a glass. Her arrival draws his eyes and he looks up with a courteous smile.
"Good day to you, miss," the man greets Seoyeon, his voice smooth and inviting.
The lady in purple responds with a gentle nod and a shy smile. "And to you, sir."
"I would assume that you are here for the challenge?" the man asks curiously.
"Ah, yes. I am," she replies, sounding nervous.
"I see," he says as he puts down the glass. "I was told to assist you."
Seoyeon smiles and nods with a delighted look on her face.
"Nice to meet you!" she tells him with a slight bow, her tone sweet and full of energy.
"Likewise. I look forward to working with you," he replies, his tone warm & welcoming.
Seoyeon then lets out a soft chuckle, as if excited for what's about to come.
"So… what are we supposed to do?" she asks.
"I'm afraid I don't have the answer, Miss," he replies. "I was told to wait for further instructions."
"Ohh..." she nods her head. "Maybe it's something related to mixing cocktails? Or how to toss drinks?"
He chuckles softly. "Perhaps you're right."
"Or... It could be just about drinking a lot," she makes a quick jest, laughing nervously at her joke.
"Well, that is something that I certainly wouldn't mind," the bartender smiles at her playful remark before gesturing to take a seat at the bar. "Please, do have a seat."
Seoyeon heeds his invitation and settles on a stool nearest to him.
"Thank you," she replies as she makes herself comfortable.
"So, do you drink?" he asks her politely.
"I do, but not that much," she confesses, her cheeks blushing.
"I see," he responds with a smile. "Would you like a drink?"
She nods gratefully. "Of course. Something light, please."
The bartender nods and starts preparing a drink for the lady in front of him.
"I'll make you a nice mojito," he says, reaching for the mint leaves and muddling them gently in the glass.
"Oh, I love mojitos!" Seoyeon exclaims as she hears his suggestion. "They're so good."
"They do. Yeah," he nods as he pours the different ingredients into the glass, mixing them skillfully.
Seoyeon observes closely as the bartender skillfully moves his hands, impressed by his mastery. He can’t help but smile at the sight of her patiently observing his craft, a hint of satisfaction visible in his eyes. As he completes the mojito and places it gracefully in front of Seoyeon, he leans in closer, speaking in a soft tone.
"Here you go," he tells her, his eyes fixed on hers. "The best mojito you’ll ever have.”
"Why thank you," she giggles as she reaches for the glass and takes a slow sip, savoring the refreshing taste on her lips.
The bartender observes Seoyeon as she sips the mojito, his gaze focused on her parted lips as they touch the rim of the glass.
"So how is it?" he asks, his voice filled with anticipation.
"Wow... It's good," she replies in a soft, appreciative tone. "I've never had a mojito like this before."
"Thank you very much," he responds with a satisfied smile. "I'm glad you enjoy it."
"It's very sweet and minty," she adds, her eyes twinkling with delight. "You can’t even taste the alcohol!"
The bartender giggles at her observation and gives her a nod. Her delighted reaction to the drink almost made him blush. She may be an awesome performer, but her fans are mostly drawn by her innocence towards a lot of things.
As Seoyeon continues to enjoy her mojito, they hear a ring coming from a monitor at the end of the counter, grabbing their attention. As they turn their heads toward it, a message pops up on the screen, causing their curious eyes to meet once again.
"What is that?" she asks curiously.
"That must be the challenge we should take," he replies, his voice filled with intrigue.
They read the following message together that appeared on the screen;
“SPOTLIGHTING CHALLENGE: LOVE IN THE CLUB
Learn how to be the best bartender!
Your partner will teach you the basics about mixing cocktails. It’s up to you to make the best drink ever!
You have 3 hours to prepare your drink.
Your partner will taste your cocktail. He will provide you with the result.
GOOD LUCK AND HAVE FUN!"
The screen then transitions into a countdown timer set for 3 hours.
— Digi stopped here but may continue if he has time tomorrow —
"Ooh..." Seoyeon mutters in surprise, her eyebrows raising and her eyes widening. "Cocktail mixing?"
"Indeed," he responds with a smile. "You seem interested."
"Ah, well… You can say that," she replies humbly, a light blush appearing on her cheeks.
"That’s good to hear," he responds, his voice tinged with warmth.
"So, what’s up first?" she asks, eyes bright with excitement.
"Well, for starters… Head over here," he answers, gesturing to come closer.
"Ah, right," Seoyeon says, embarrassed. She then walks around the counter and approaches the bartender.
"Now, I will be teaching you about mixing drinks," he says, his voice tinged with pride.
"Okay, what's the first thing I need to do?" she asks, sounding enthusiastic.
"First, we'll need to prepare the ingredients," he answers.
"Got it."
"You might want to take off your jacket. It might get stained."
"Ah! My bad," Seoyeon chuckles as she removes her blazer and tosses it far from the bartender's workspace.
The video then transitions to a brief montage as Seoyeon and the bartender begin preparing the ingredients for her first few cocktails. They combine liquids and fruits in a shaker, shaking it vigorously to create a distinct sound of ice and liquid blending together. As she continues mixing, they sample each cocktail with small sips, engaging cheerfully while bonding over this interesting activity.
"Mmm, it's quite good," the bartender remarks. "I think it needs a little more ice."
"Okay," Seoyeon nods. "So that’s what it only needs?"
"Yes," he confirms. "A few more ice cubes and it will be perfect."
"Alright. That seems easy," she responds, a small smile gracing her lips.
They continue mixing more drinks, making slight adjustments here and there until they've created a cocktail that both of them are satisfied with.
"Now, let's see if you can make this," he says, handing her a shaker and a glass.
"Sure, I'll give it a try," she responds with a determined expression.
She pours the ingredients into the shaker, shaking it with great care. She then tests the drink, taking a small sip.
"Oh wow!" she exclaims. "Whoo! That's good!"
"Thank you," he says with a warm laugh. "It's something I prepared before you arrive."
"Kinda strong for me but yes! I like it!" she remarks, a pleased expression on her face.
"Do you think you can recreate it?" he asks, his eyes filled with curiosity.
Seoyeon then ponders his question, scratching her head.
"I'm not going to tell you its ingredients, though,” he tells her with a firm tone in his voice. “But it's an easy one so you should be able to figure it out," he adds, trying to reassure her..
"Okay. I guess I can try…" Seoyeon nods as she thinks deeply.
The lady in purple then starts to carefully examine the different ingredients and liquors that are laid out in front of her. She carefully examines each one, trying to determine what could be in the cocktail she was just served.
"Hmmm," she murmurs to herself, her eyes scanning the bottles. "Maybe this will... No, that's not it."
"It’s okay, Seoyeon. Take your time," he urges her, smiling encouragingly.
"Do you think I can make it before the time ends?" she asks him curiously.
The bartender chuckles. "We barely just started, Miss."
"That's true," she replies, laughing lightly.
"There's still plenty of time, so take your time and do the best that you can," he reassures her, making her not rush things.
Seoyeon then returns to the task, now focused on recreating the cocktail she tried earlier. She carefully examines the ingredients, trying to identify their significance. After selecting a few key items, she adds them to the shaker and starts mixing under the watchful eye of the bartender who provides support and guidance.
"I'm not sure if this is correct, but let's see," Seoyeon tells herself as she tests the concoction.
After tasting her work, a delighted expression appears on her face.
"Mmmh. That's pretty good," she exclaims, looking rather pleased.
"Is it? Let me try," the bartender says as he takes the glass from her.
He then samples her creation and a pleased expression appears on his face as well.
"It is quite good. Good job," he tells her, his voice filled with warmth.
"Really? Thank you," Seoyeon smiles happily.
"However, I believe you missed a few things," the man says, his voice laced with a bit of teasing.
"Is that so?" she asks, a mix of interest and intrigue.
"What you just recreated is a Long Island iced tea. Very popular in the US," he explains, a smile tugging on his lips. "You missed adding a bit of gin."
"Ooh, that's what it is," Seoyeon responds, sounding impressed.
"Yes," he replies, nodding his head. "So how do you feel after learning a bit about mixing drinks?"
"It was quite fun," Seoyeon remarks, her face flushed with excitement. "I enjoyed it."
"I'm glad to hear it," the man tells her. "Should we proceed to your challenge? Maybe you would like to learn more, perhaps?"
"Can you teach me more?" Seoyeon inquires, her voice brimming with enthusiasm.
"I could," the bartender answers with a smile. "But you look like you had enough drinks."
The camera focuses on her face, showing her rosy cheeks and glossy eyes, signs of being drunk. She scrambles to check his claims, putting her palms on her cheeks.
"I'm fine. I'm not drunk yet," she retorts, laughing, as if embarrassed.
"Are you sure? The ones you drink are pretty strong," he asks, his eyes narrowing at her, a playful smile dancing on his lips.
"I'm sure," she answers, her voice tinged with certainty. "I'm fine—hic!"
She covers her mouth, embarrassed, hiding her hiccup.
"There we go," the man tells her, his voice soft yet firm.
"N-no. I'm not..." she stammers, trying to hold back another hiccup.
"Well, you are," he insists, his tone playful.
"I-I'm not... Agh!" she tries again as she slowly shows frustration in her state.
"It's alright, Seoyeon. You can be honest," he encourages her, his voice gentle and kind.
"But I'm not. Really," she tries to convince him.
"You sure you are not drunk, yet?"
"No. Yes. I mean—hic! Aww, man!" she hiccups again, a small smile playing on her lips.
The bartender laughs lightly, amused by her stubbornness.
"See, Seoyeon. You're not fine at all," he tells her, his voice filled with warmth. "You've had enough."
"But I want to learn more!" she insists, her voice filled with determination. "We still have some time left."
"We can do that later, okay?" the bartender assures her. "After all, you can't mix drinks if you're drunk."
"Hmmm... I guess you're right," Seoyeon replies, nodding slowly.
"Alright. Let's take a rest over there," he points at a plush couch placed in a corner of the room.
"Okay… Nghh…" she replies, groaning.
"Come, follow me," he says as he gestures for her to walk.
They then make their way towards the couch. Despite having a few drinks, she moves steadily yet he follows closely beside her, supporting her as she goes. Soon after, they both take a seat on the couch, sitting closely next to each other.
"This couch is nice and comfy," Seoyeon observes, a small smile appearing on her lips.
"It is, isn't it?" the bartender comments, his tone soft and warm.
"Yeah," she nods her head.
He then offers her a glass of water, which she accepts gratefully.
"Thank you," she tells him, her voice tinged with gratitude.
"You're welcome," he replies, his voice gentle and soothing.
Seoyeon takes a sip of water and leans her head back against the couch.
"So... How do you find bartending?" he asks her, his voice tinged with curiosity.
"Well, it's been fun so far," Seoyeon tells him, her voice filled with sincerity.
"Glad to hear that," he replies, his eyes meeting hers.
"I'm learning new things with your help," she adds, her tone grateful.
"Anything for a cute customer like you," the bartender compliments her, and a warm smile can be seen on his face.
"You flatter me," Seoyeon responds, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.
"Hey. Your face is getting redder," he teases her.
Embarrassed, she tries to cover her cheeks with her hands. "That's because you're flattering me!"
"No need to be embarrassed, though," he tells her, his voice gentle and understanding. "It's the alcohol's doing."
"Ah, yeah... I'm a little bit tipsy, I guess," she admits, her voice filled with sheepishness.
"Just a little bit?"
"Yeah! I'm not drunk!" she argues.
"Really? Because you're hiccuping a lot."
"But I'm not—hic!"
The bartender laughs. "There it is again."
"Ugh. I can't help it," she groans, sounding frustrated.
"Well, I'm sure you can," the bartender counters. "Maybe you just need some help."
"Help? How?" she inquires, her voice curious and hopeful.
"You see... They say kissing helps stop hiccups," the man replies, his voice low and suggestive.
Seoyeon chuckles at hearing his explanation. "Is that so?"
"It does," he insists. "But only if you want to stop it."
"I don't believe you," she retorts, her voice playful.
"Well, then... Shall we find out?" the man offers.
"Fine. Go ahead," she gives in, her voice tinged with a hint of teasing.
The man then leans closer, his face just inches away from hers. You can see her blushing cheeks and biting her lips. He then slowly brings his lips closer to hers, stopping just a hair's breadth away.
"Ready, Miss?" he whispers.
"Mhmm," she nods her head. “Go ahead.”
Seoyeon closes her eyes, waiting patiently for the kiss to happen. But the bartender has other plans. He moves his lips to the side of her mouth and kisses her cheek.
"Ah?" she sighs, her eyes fluttering open.
"Not there, right?" the bartender teases her, a playful grin appearing on his lips.
"Oh, you!" she giggles, slapping his arm playfully.
"My bad," he says, giggling. He then leans in once more. "Here, let me try again."
His lips finally land on hers, kissing her. They start slowly, moving their lips against each other gently and sensually. The two of them eventually get lost in the moment, enjoying the taste of each other's lips. After a while, they pull apart, gasping for air.
"There. Better?" the bartender asks.
Seoyeon examines herself, finding no more hiccups. She then smiles, looking at him with bright eyes.
"Yes," she breathes out, her voice filled with relief. "I think it worked."
"Well that's great," he responds, a pleased smile forming on his face.
The two looked at each other for a moment, a comfortable silence falling over them.
"I hope it won't come back," she says, her voice low and soft.
"It won't," he assures her, chuckling.
"Are you sure?" she asks him, her eyes locked at his’.
"Maybe... But why don't we make sure it won't?" he suggests, smirking.
Seoyeon's face flushes even redder, and she quickly averts her gaze.
"Hmmm…" she trails off, a slight tremble in her voice. “I guess we can try.”
The bartender's eyes then travel along the contours of her face, his gaze settling on her lips. He then leans closer, his nose brushing against hers.
"Shall we try it again?" he asks, his voice husky and filled with desire.
Seoyeon's breathing hitches and her heart pounds in her chest.
"Sure," she answers breathlessly.
He then brings his lips to hers and begins kissing her deeply. Their tongues immediately tangle together as their lips move in sync, like a romantic dance. His hand caresses the nape of her neck, while her hands rest on his shoulders, holding him close. As their lips continue to collide, their bodies become even closer. He gently pushes her body down, making her lean on the sofa, his lips never leaving hers.
"Mmmh... Fuck," she moans against his mouth.
The bartender's kisses eventually trail down her chin and neck. The sensation of his lips against her skin sends her shivering, and she can't help but whimper softly.
"You like that?" the bartender murmurs against her neck, his voice deep and seductive.
"That feels good," she breathes out, her eyes half-lidded and glazed with desire.
"Want me to do it more?" he asks, his lips tracing a line along her jaw.
"Yeah... Mnhh…" she nods, her voice heavy with lust.
As his lips trail down her neck, he gently bites her skin, eliciting a soft moan from her.
"Ah! That's... Ohh!" she cries out, her voice shaky and breathless.
He continues kissing her neck, leaving small bite marks all over her.
"You smell so good, Seoyeon," he breathes against her ear, making her shudder.
"Thank you—oh fuck!" she moans, her head rolling back.
His hands then begin exploring her body. They caress her curves and trace the outline of her breasts. He gropes and fondles them through the thin fabric of her shirt, making her whimper in pleasure.
"Fuck. You're driving me crazy," he growls, his voice dripping with lust.
"Ahh... I was about to say the same thing," she responds, her voice laced with desire.
"I'm happy to please," he murmurs, his lips brushing against her ear.
"And I'm glad to be pleased," she whispers back, her eyes locking onto his.
He then kisses her passionately, his tongue pushing inside her mouth.
"Mmmh!" she moans, her hands tangling in his hair.
Like a hungry animal, he hastily unbuttons her blouse, revealing her luscious breasts hidden behind a red lace bra.
"Shit, Seoyeon... These are perfect," he whispers, his voice hoarse and thick with desire.
"Looks like you're loving the view," she purrs, her eyes locked onto his.
"Oh, yeah. You're a fucking goddess," he replies, his gaze full of lust.
He then places his hand on her breasts and squeezes them, making her moan in pleasure. He then kisses her neck and licks the shell of her ear, his tongue flicking and teasing her sensitive skin.
"Mmmh! Fuck... Yes," she moans, her breathing ragged and labored.
"Do you like that, Seoyeon?" he growls, his lips trailing down her neck.
"Yeah! I love it," she moans, her voice heavy and desperate.
"Then let me show you something else you'll love," he growls, his eyes glinting with lust.
He then moves his hand between her legs and gently separates her thighs, revealing the matching red panties underneath.
"Oh fuck," she mutters, her voice filled with anticipation.
He slowly runs his fingers over her panties, teasing her through the thin fabric.
"You're so wet, Seoyeon," he whispers, his voice dripping with desire.
"You're the one who did this," she retorts, her voice filled with desire.
"Blaming me for it, huh?"
"Y-yes," she breathes out, her voice weak and shaky. "You're the one who has his hands all over me."
"Well, you're the one who looks so irresistible," he counters, his lips tracing the outline of her ear.
She moans, her voice quivering and breathless.
"Ah! Ohh... Fuck me," she whimpers, her voice heavy and pleading.
"Gladly," he growls, smiling.
With her permission, his hand dips between her legs and pushes her panties aside. Her partner is left breathless at the sight of her wet lips. But that didn’t stop him from rubbing his thumb against her inviting folds, making her whimper to his touch.
"Oh! Fuck, you're such a tease," Seoyeon comments, a slight snicker forming on her face.
His fingers continue to attack her sensitive bud, her toes curling as her grip on the couch tightens.
"Mmmm... Fuck," she mutters, her voice strained.
"You like that, huh?" he growls, his eyes dark and filled with lust.
"Oh, yeah," she moans, her body squirming and trembling.
He continues rubbing her wet folds, his fingers expertly pleasuring her.
"You're so fucking sexy, Seoyeon," he breathes, his voice thick with lust.
"Aah! Fuck! Fuck!" she cries out, her body writhing in pleasure.
"On your limit already?" he smirks.
"N-no! I'm just—ooh... So good," she whimpers, her voice breathless and shaky.
He chuckles at her reaction and continues pleasuring her, his fingers rubbing her sensitive flesh.
"Ah! Oh fuck," she cries out, her body writhing in ecstasy.
"My... Aren't you sensitive?" he teases, his voice tinged with amusement.
"Fuck off... Mhnn..."
He then slips a finger inside her wet pussy, making her gasp and moan.
"S-shit! That feels good!" she breathes, her voice shaky and weak.
"Looks like I hit a spot, huh?" he whispers, his voice thick with lust.
"Yeah! Mmmm... Don't stop," she moans, her body trembling and quivering.
He slides his finger deeper into her, his thumb rubbing her sensitive clit.
"Fucking hell! Oh shit," she gasps as her hips buck in the air.
"How does that feel, huh?" he growls at her, his voice thick with lust.
"W-what do you think? Mmmh!" she moans out.
"I bet it feels good," he says, his voice dripping with lust.
"Yeah! It does," she gasps out, her body squirming and trembling. "Now, hurry up and make me cum."
He smirks.
"With pleasure," he whispers, his voice low and seductive.
Suddenly, the camera cuts to a wide-angle shot, and you can see both the bartender's and Seoyeon's expressions change dramatically. The man's eyes widen, and his mouth falls open as he stares at the beautiful sight before him. Meanwhile, Seoyeon's face is contorted with pleasure as she moans loudly and squirms on the couch, her body arching and writhing uncontrollably. They look like they're in a state of pure bliss, a mesmerizing scene of intense intimacy and raw desire.
"Aah! Your… Your thing is—oh fuck!"
Seoyeon's loud, sensual cry fills the room as her body trembles and quivers, her pussy clenching and convulsing around the bartender's fingers. The bartender looks down at her in amazement, his face flushed with arousal and his eyes dark with lust.
"Getting close, are we?" the bartender asks, his voice dripping with desire.
"Yeah. I'm gonna cum soon," Seoyeon breathes, her voice shaking and quivering.
"You like this, don't you?"
"Fuck yeah... I do."
"Damn, you're incredible," he whispers to her ear, his voice hoarse and strained.
She lets out a weak, satisfied chuckle.
"I aim to please," she tells him, a playful tinge in her voice.
The bartender chuckles and leans down, capturing her lips in a searing kiss. Their tongues once again meet in a passionate dance, their bodies pressed close together. As their intense make-out session goes on, so do his fingers, pumping in and out of her pussy.
"Oh shit… Let it out, Seoyeon," he commands her, his voice husky and thick with lust.
Seoyeon's breathing becomes heavy and erratic, her body quivering and squirming under his touch. She whimpers and moans, her pussy clenching and convulsing around his fingers.
"I-I'm so close…" Seoyeon whimpers, her voice filled with desire.
"Then come for me," he growls, his voice dark and husky.
He pumps his fingers in and out of her pussy faster and faster, making her body tremble and convulse.
"Yes! Yes! Oh fuck! Yes!" she screams, her body arching and quivering in ecstasy.
"There. Let go, Seoyeon," he encourages her, his voice low and commanding.
"I'm gonna cum! I'm gonna—oh fuck! I'm cumming!"
Seoyeon's body suddenly shudders and convulses as her orgasm hits her hard, sending her reeling in ecstasy. Her pussy clenches and convulses around his fingers, her juices spraying everywhere. She can be naughty at times, especially around her fellow members. But her current display of eroticism is on a whole different level.
"Mmmh! Ooh! Ohh! Fuck! Oh fuck!" she screams, her body writhing and shuddering in pleasure.
Her eyes roll back and her mouth falls open as she loses herself in the throes of pleasure, her body spasming and quivering uncontrollably. Her loud cries of pleasure and ecstasy fill the room as she rides the waves of her orgasm, her pussy clenching and convulsing around his fingers.
After what seems like an eternity, her orgasm subsides. The bartender looks at her, his eyes dark and lustful, while Seoyeon's are glazed and unfocused. They remain motionless for a few moments, both catching their breath.
"How was that, hmmm?" the bartender whispers, his voice filled with satisfaction.
"Oh f-fuck... It was incredible," Seoyeon tells him, her voice hoarse and shaky.
"You were amazing, Seoyeon," he responds, his voice heavy with desire.
"Thanks. You too," she replies, her breathing still labored and uneven.
"I'm glad I was able to please you," the bartender murmurs, his lips brushing against her neck.
Seoyeon shudders at his touch, her body still tingling from her orgasm.
"Nghh… Y-you definitely did," she breathes, her voice quivering and weak.
"Well, it's only natural for me to reciprocate," he chuckles, his voice low and seductive.
"Is that so?" she asks, breathless and husky.
"Mhmm," he hums, his lips trailing down her neck.
"I guess I should pay back the favor, then," she tells him, her voice heavy with desire.
The bartender then lays himself back on the couch, his hands crossed his head.
"Go ahead, then," he whispers, his voice dark and husky. "The floor's yours."
A smirk then forms on her face, her eyes burning with lust.
"Gladly."
Without hesitation, she proceeds to unbutton his pants. She works slowly and methodically, teasing him through his boxers. The bartender's breathing hitches and he bites his lip, watching her intently. Once she has unbuttoned his pants, she slides both his pants and boxers off, freeing his hardened member, already glistening with precum.
"Oh my," she coos, her voice dripping with lust.
She then leans down and takes a close look at his cock, her eyes studying it intently.
"See anything you like?" the bartender teasingly asks.
"Yeah, I do," Seoyeon answers, biting her lips.
"Why won't you indulge yourself, then?"
"If you insist," she tells him, her voice low and seductive.
Without hesitation, she begins playing with his dick, stroking and squeezing it with her hands. She licks her lips and leans down, kissing his shaft from top to bottom. Her movements are slow and sensual, making sure he feels every single one. He gasps and groans, his cock twitching and pulsing. She then takes the tip of his member into her mouth, planting a kiss before sucking on it gently.
"Mmmh, yes... That's it," the bartender murmurs, his voice thick with desire.
"You like that?" Seoyeon asks, her voice low and husky.
"Yeah. Keep going," the bartender breathes, smiling, his eyes closed and his head tilted back.
Seoyeon giggles and resumes her actions, slowly sliding his entire length into her mouth. She gags slightly at first but quickly recovers and starts sucking and licking his cock, slowly bobbing her head up and down.
"Fuck... You're so good at this," the bartender grunts, his hands gripping her hair.
"Mhmm," she moans, the sound vibrating against his member. "Dho yu luhv ith?"
"Fuck, yeah. Don't stop," he growls, his voice husky and full of desire.
As instructed, Seoyeon increases her speed and sucks harder, taking his cock as deep into her mouth as she can. The bartender groans and grunts, his body twitching and spasming.
"Ooh, Seoyeon. Just like that. That's so good," he pants, his voice heavy with lust.
Seoyeon hums in acknowledgment, sending a pleasurable vibration against his cock. She continues sucking and licking his hard shaft, her movements becoming more frantic and desperate.
"Shit, Seoyeon. You're amazing," the bartender groans, his body tensing up.
She keeps her pace and continues sucking and licking his member. The bartender seems to be getting closer and closer to climaxing, his body twitching and his cock throbbing. Suddenly, he grabs her hair and forces her head down, making her take his entire length into her mouth, taking her by surprise.
"Mbph? Mphh?!"
"Yes. Just like that. Suck that cock," he growls, his voice heavy and strained.
"Mmmh!! Mlph! Mlrgh! Mrrrh!"
She gags and coughs, but continues sucking and licking. She places her hands on his thighs, holding on tightly, determined to make him cum. In response, the bartender's hips begin thrusting, his cock sliding in and out of her mouth.
"Oh, fuck, yes. That's it, Seoyeon. Just like that," the bartender grunts, his voice low and strained.
He continues fucking her mouth, his movements becoming faster and more frantic. The room is filled with the ecstatic sounds of Seoyeon choking and gagging on his cock, their bodies twitching and writhing.
"Shit, Seoyeon. I'm close," the bartender growls, his voice thick and husky.
"Mrph?"
"Yeah. I'm gonna cum. Get ready," he groans, his hips thrusting and spasming.
The bartender then slows his movements, letting her suck his cock at her own pace. With one hand on her head, he guides her head up and down, almost at the same pace as his', taking his member into her mouth with ease. Her tongue swirls around the tip of his member, making him grunt and groan. This synchronous motion of pure pleasure unravels in front of the camera, the erotic act being captured in all its glory.
"Oh, shit. Yeah. Keep going. I'm gonna cum," the bartender growls, his breathing erratic and labored.
"Mhmm, mmmh," Seoyeon nods, her eyes closed, her mind focused on her task.
"Here it comes! Urgh! Fuck!" the bartender cries out, his body trembling and shuddering.
Seoyeon's movements become more frantic and desperate, her pace matching the bartender's. Suddenly, the bartender grabs her head with both hands and pulls it towards his body, forcing his cock deep into her throat. She gags and chokes as his cum sprays into her mouth and down her throat, making her eyes roll back in her head.
"Hahh… Fucking hell," the bartender pants, his breathing heavy and uneven.
He thrusts a few more times, emptying his load into her mouth. You can see in Seoyeon's face that she's swallowing his thick, warm seed, not letting a single drop of it go to waste. But it seems too much for her and she pulls out, coughing and gagging, cum spilling out of her mouth.
"Mmph! Ghck! Gah!"
"Fuck! Sorry, Seoyeon. I couldn't help it," the bartender says sheepishly.
She continues to cough and splutter, the bartender patting her back.
"Are you alright?" he asks, sounding concerned.
"Y-yeah. I'm… I’m fine," she replies, a bit of frustration in her voice.
"I may have overdone it," the bartender laughs, his tone light and cheerful.
"No kidding," she chuckles, her voice raspy. “You almost choked me.”
Seoyeon then swallows what's left of his cum inside his mouth, a satisfied smile on her face. He looks at her with utter awe, amazed at how a small lady like her was able to take his load.
"Fuck. That was hot," the bartender compliments her.
"Thank you," Seoyeon says, licking her lips. "That was quite fun, you know?"
The bartender nods in agreement. "Fuck… You're just making me want you even more."
Seoyeon chuckles. "Looks like someone wants more."
"What can I say? Thinking about what else you can do... It's making me crazy," he tells her, his voice husky and seductive.
She blushes and bites her lips. "I guess I'll have to find out for myself, huh?"
"I can help you with that," the bartender smirks as his hand reaches for his dick, stroking it back to life. To her amusement, it doesn’t take long before her shaft stands up on its own, tall and hard as it was.
She lets out a soft, breathless chuckle. "Well, aren't you energetic?"
"For you? It's a given," he replies, smirking.
"That flattery will get you anywhere," she grins.
"I'm sure it will," the bartender replies. "But for now…"
He suddenly leans in, his forehead against hers, his lips hovering over hers. His hand lands on one of the buttons of her blouse, ready to unclasp it. Their breathing becomes more shallow, adding to the tension in the room.
"This is where I want to be."
Seoyeon is seemingly satisfied with his response, evident in the slight curve of her lips as she looks into his eyes, anticipating his next move.
"What are you waiting for, then?" she hums, her voice soft and sultry.
The bartender's finger slowly slips through the first button, and the second one, then the third. The thrill makes Seoyeon shiver in excitement, reaching for his lips with hers. Eventually, he reaches the last one, and the bartender finally opens her blouse, revealing a red lace bra as her blouse slides down her shoulders, the thin fabric caressing her skin.
He takes a deep breath, his gaze filled with hunger. He immediately cups one of her breasts, massaging it, his lips then trail down her neck.
"Mmmh!" Seoyeon hums, her body quivering.
He then reaches behind her back and unclasps her bra, making her gasp in surprise.
"Red suits you, Seoyeon," he breathes, his voice heavy with desire.
"Really now?" she chuckles, her voice low and seductive.
"I mean it. You look stunning."
She blushes. "Well, thank you—wah!"
The bartender then interrupts her by pulling off her bra, his eyes gazing upon her bare breasts. They're full and supple, perfectly proportioned for her size.
"Oh, wow…" he breathes out in wonder of the mounds of flesh before his eyes.
"Why you..." she chuckles, still shocked by his sudden move. Her cheeks turned a deeper shade of red.
The bartender smiles sheepishly and leans forward, his face hovering above her breast.
“You look good, Seoyeon,” the bartender comments, his voice dripping with lust. “They really look good.”
"They're not much, really," she shrugs, a faint blush spreading across her cheeks.
"Are you kidding? They're gorgeous," the bartender counters, his tone sincere.
"I guess..." she trails off, biting her lips.
"Do you mind if I touch them?"
"And what will you do if I don't?" she challenges him, her eyes burning with desire.
He doesn't answer her and instead proceeds to grab one of her breasts, kneading it softly.
"Mmmh," she hums, her voice heavy and sultry.
"Is this enough for an answer?"
"Maybe… For now," she answers, giggling.
His fingers pinch her nipple, a soft moan escapes her lips. His other hand then massages her other breast, making her gasp and whimper.
"Aah... Y-you're a bit rough, aren't you?" she mutters, her voice strained.
"Am I? I'll try to be gentler, then," he responds, his voice low and husky.
"Don't even try," she says, her voice hoarse and strained.
The bartender smiles and continues playing with her breasts, his movements becoming rougher and more aggressive.
"Hah! Aah!" she cries out, her body arching and shuddering.
His lips then find their way to her breasts, leaving kisses and bite marks all over them.
"S-shit," she moans, her voice quivering and weak.
"Does it feel good, Seoyeon?" the bartender asks, his voice dark and husky.
"F-fuck yeah," she breathes, her voice heavy and strained.
"Do you like it when I play with these?" he whispers, his lips brushing against her ear.
"O-of course," she moans, her voice hoarse and breathless.
"Would you like me to do it some more?"
"Fuck yes..."
"As you wish," he replies, a sly grin forming on his face.
The bartender then places both of his hands on her breasts, squeezing and groping them.
"Mmmh! Ahh!"
"Your breasts are so soft, Seoyeon," he coos as he firmly gropes them, his voice low and husky.
"Ooh! Oh f-fuck," she gasps from his touch, her voice strained and shaky.
"Tell me how it feels."
"Amazing... Mmmh, yeah," she breathes, her eyes fluttering. "I love it."
"That's good," the bartender grins, his voice low and sultry.
His lips then trail down her body, his hands exploring her curves. He eventually stops at her skirt, his fingers slowly unzipping it.
"Let's get this off, shall we?"
"Yes, please," she nods, her voice weak and breathless.
He removes her skirt and panties in one go, leaving her fully naked in front of him. He tosses it high in the air, his gaze fixed on her pussy.
"Now, that's a sight," the bartender growls at the marvelous view, his eyes wide and filled with lust.
"You like what you see?" she asks, her voice low and seductive.
"You know I do," the bartender replies, his voice thick and husky.
She chuckles. "I figured you would."
He takes a step forward and runs his finger along her slit, making her whimper and squirm.
"You look breathtaking," the bartender murmurs, his eyes filled with hunger.
"Mmmh, yeah. That feels nice," she sighs, her body squirming.
"Do you want more?" he asks, his finger slowly tracing her wet folds.
"Y-yeah... I need it," she moans, her voice breathless and desperate.
"Tell me what you need," the bartender asks, grinning.
"I need you. I need you inside me," she whimpers, her face flushed and her breathing labored.
"Is that so?"
"Yes. I fucking want it,” she begs, her voice hoarse and strained.
“Hmmm... Well, then,” the bartender grins, satisfied by her response.
“Please… Oh fucking please…”
Before he gives in to Seoyeon's pleas, he looks at the timer displayed on the monitor. There's less than an hour left before the challenge begins.
"Well, I guess we have some more time," the bartender tells her, a mischievous grin forming on his face.
"Then why don't we make the most of it?" she asks, her voice low and seductive. She spreads her legs wide open, showing him her glistening wet folds.
"Why, that’s a good idea."
He then stands up and starts taking off his clothes, wildly throwing each piece aside. Soon, he's completely naked in front of her. Seoyeon's eyes widen and she bites her lips as she watches this display, her gaze travels along his body. She takes in his muscles and broad shoulders, his strong arms and abs, and finally, his cock, already hard and twitching.
"Like what you see?" he asks, his voice dripping with desire.
"Definitely," she answers with a devilish smirk.
The bartender smirks and leans forward, his forehead against hers, his lips hovering over hers'. His hand finds its way to her hair, tangling in her long black locks.
"I can't fucking wait any longer," he growls, his voice husky and filled with lust.
"Me neither," she pants, her voice heavy and breathless.
"How do you want it, Seoyeon? How do you want me?"
She bites her lips and smiles.
"Surprise me," she challenges him.
"Oh, I intend to."
Without another word, he pushes her down, making her lay flat on her back. He then climbs on top of her and positions himself between her legs. He leans forward and grabs her wrists, pinning her down.
"Oh fuck," she breathes, her body trembling.
"Ready for this?" the bartender asks, his voice dark and husky.
"Yes... Fuck me like you mean it," she commands him, her voice filled with desire.
He prepares himself, pressing his length against her wetness.
"As you wish," the bartender tells her, his voice low and husky.
Without further hesitation, he plunges his cock into her pussy, making her scream in pleasure.
"Ahh! Oh shit!"
"Yeah, that's right," the bartender growls, his voice hoarse and thick with lust.
"Yes... Oh, you're so big," she groans, her voice strained and shaky.
The bartender then thrusts his hips forward, burying his cock deep inside her, making her scream in pleasure.
"Fuck, you're tight," he breathes, his eyes filled with lust.
"Mmmh, yeah... Give it to me," she moans, her voice heavy and sultry.
He grunts and continues pumping his cock in and out of her, his hips slamming against hers. She moans and whimpers, her body writhing and convulsing.
"Ohhh... Yes, that's so good," she moans, her voice hoarse and strained.
"Liking it?" he asks, his voice low and seductive.
"O-oh, yes," she nods, her face flushed.
"I'll make you feel even better," the bartender promises, his voice low and sultry.
He places his hands on her waist and grips her tightly, his fingers digging into her skin. He amps up his speed, pounding into her harder and faster. She gasps and arches her back, her body squirming and quivering.
"Ohh fuck... Oh fuck!" she screams, her voice breathless and ragged.
"Yeah. That's it, Seoyeon," he growls, his voice low and husky.
"Fuck... You're wrecking my—nghh!" she cries out, her voice strained and shaky.
"I'm gonna destroy your pussy," the bartender tells her, his voice thick and hoarse.
"Ooh, f-fuck me..." she whimpers, her eyes rolling back.
He then grabs her legs and lifts them, making her wrap them around his waist. He thrusts his cock deeper into her, his pace relentless.
"There we go," he grunts, his voice hoarse and heavy.
"Fuck, yes! Harder!" she cries out, her body arching and spasming. "Fuck me harder!"
He continues his assault, his hips slamming against hers' repeatedly, his cock pistoning in and out of her.
"Yes... Oh fuck... Mmmh, just like that," she whimpers, her voice breathless and ragged.
"Ugh... Your pussy is getting tighter," he growls, his body tensing up.
"Y-you... Your cock..." she stutters, her words failing her.
"Yeah? You like my cock, huh?"
"I-it'sh getting... Even bigger inshide me... Mnhh," she mewls out, her voice starting to become slurry.
"Yeah. Take that fucking cock," he growls, his voice filled with desire.
"Yesh... Oh fuhg..."
Her eyes roll back, her body twitching and spasming. Seoyeon starts to drool from her mouth, her eyes glazed and unfocused. Her hands grip his arms tightly, her nails digging into his skin.
"Nghh... You're close, aren't you?" the bartender asks, his voice gruff and rough.
"Hngg! Oh s-shit!" she cries out, her body arching and squirming.
He suddenly slows down his pace, making her whine in frustration.
"What the fuck—Mngh?!"
He then leans forward and kisses her passionately, his tongue exploring her mouth. He keeps a steady pace, his cock moving in and out of her slowly, driving her mad. She moans and whimpers, her body writhing and trembling.
"I fuhging lhuv dish," Seoyeon says, her words slurred, her voice barely audible.
"Oh? And what else do you love, hmm?"
"F-fuhking me... Fuhking my pushy," she tells him, her voice breathless and shaky.
"You love this, huh?" he asks, teasing her with slow yet powerful thrusts.
"Yesh... So m-mush," she moans, her voice weak and strained.
"I'll make you love it even more, then," the bartender growls as he pounds her harder, his pace becoming rougher and harder.
"Oh god... I lhuv you," Seoyeon mumbles, her voice weak.
"Mmhm. I love you too," the bartender replies, kissing her again.
Seoyeon wraps her arms around his neck, her nails clawing his skin. Her legs wrap around his waist, her heels digging into his back. The room is filled with the sounds of their flesh slapping together and their lust-filled voices, moaning and groaning as their bodies writhe and grind against each other.
"F-fuck... Oh yesh!"
"Yes. Fuck yes," the bartender growls. "You know you love it."
Despite their paces amping up, their bodies move in perfect sync. Their hips rocking against each other, their rhythm perfect. Non-fans wouldn't think it's their first time being intimate together, their actions are fluid and natural. It's a spectacle to behold.
"Fuck, fuck... Mhhh! I'm gonna..."
"You wanna cum, Seoyeon?"
"Y-yeah. I wanna cum so bad!"
"Then come," he whispers into her ear. "Come for me, Seoyeon."
"I'm... I'm gonna—oh shit! I'm c-cumming!"
Her body tenses up, her back arching. She screams in ecstasy as her orgasm hits her, her pussy clenching and convulsing as she displays another intense orgasm, her juices spraying everywhere.
"Ohh! Oh f-fuck! I-I can't stop cumming! Mmmmh!"
"Fuck yeah... Squirt all over me, Seoyeon," the bartender growls, his voice husky and filled with desire.
Her whole body trembles and shakes, her limbs flailing around uncontrollably. The immense pressure of her orgasm causes his cock to slide out of her.
"Oh, shit! I-I'm cumming again!"
"That's it. Let it all out," the bartender growls, his cock throbbing with arousal.
The petite vixen continues to scream and wail as she climaxes, her body trembling and convulsing. Her juices gush out of her pussy and splash onto the bartender's abdomen, soaking him in her sweet nectar.
"Fuck, you're incredible," the bartender tells her, his voice husky and filled with desire.
Eventually. Seoyeon's fantastic waterworks show subsides, leaving her a trembling, gasping mess. She can barely reply, her mind still hazy from her orgasms.
"Hngh... Mnhh... I..."
"That was the hottest thing I've ever seen," he responds, his voice thick and hoarse. The bartender smiles at her, his eyes burning with hunger.
"You... Y-you're..." she mumbles, her words failing her.
"Amazing, right?"
"Y-yeah. You are..."
"Again, I aim to please."
He then leans forward and kisses her once again, softly, his lips brushing against hers. He grabs her breast and squeezes it gently, making a soft moan escape her lips. His tongue gently enters her mouth, exploring every inch of it, tasting her sweet juices. Albeit weak from the multiple orgasms she just experienced, she responds in kind. She wraps her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. Their tongues dance around each other, their kisses deep and passionate.
"Mmmh… So good," she moans, her voice weak.
His hands roam her body, squeezing and kneading her breasts. His fingers pinch and rub her nipples, making her gasp and whimper.
"You really are gorgeous," he tells her, his voice low and husky.
"Why, you're quite the charmer yourself," she chuckles, breathless and husky.
"Only because you bring it out in me," he grins, his eyes filled with desire.
She giggles. "Why do I think it's not the first time you said that?"
"What makes you say that?" he asks, his voice heavy and seductive.
"I don't know, really," she laughs weakly. "You look like the player type."
He chuckles at her. "I promise you, I'm not a player."
"Whatever you say," she says, giggling.
"But I'd love to play with you," he tells her, his voice low and sultry.
"Mmhm. I'm sure you would," she replies, still catching her breath.
The bartender then leans forward and kisses her again, their tongues dancing around each other, their bodies grinding against each other. They lose themselves in the moment, their movements becoming more frantic and desperate.
"Mhnn... It's your turn, mister," Seoyeon coos, her voice low and seductive.
The bartender smiles and nods, his cock throbbing with arousal. He then carries her to the table next to them and lays her down on it. He positions himself between her legs, his cock pressed against her pussy.
"This is gonna be fun," he growls, his voice low and husky.
Seoyeon smiles at him and wraps her legs around his waist, pulling him closer.
"Do your worst," she tells him, her voice low and sultry.
The bartender then grabs her hips and slides his cock into her wet folds, making her gasp and whimper.
"Mmmh... Fuck, yes..." she moans, her voice heavy and strained.
The bartender then begins thrusting his cock in and out of her, his pace relentless.
"Ahhh! Yes! Oh, fuck..." she cries out, her voice strained and shaky.
He continues to pound into her, his hips slamming against hers. He grunts and groans as he fucks her even harder, his movements becoming faster and more frantic.
"Oh, shit! You feel so fucking good," he growls, his voice hoarse and thick with lust.
"Fuck yeah... Give me that fucking cock," she moans, her voice heavy and sultry.
"As you wish," he growls as he amps up his speed, his thrusts becoming rougher and harder.
"Yes! Oh fuck... Yes!" she screams, her voice strained and shaky.
Her eyes roll back and her body trembles, her orgasm building up inside her.
"Fuck... Oh fuck! Sho beeg!"
The bartender laughs. "I know. You love it, don't you?"
"Yesh! Oh fuck... Yesh I lhuv ith!" she screams, her voice weak and almost incoherent.
He laughs. “I thought so."
He then places his hand on her neck, gently pressing down on her throat.
"Nghk... Mnah!" she yelps, her eyes widening.
"You like this, huh? You like when I choke you?" the bartender growls, his voice thick and husky.
She nods, weakly. "Oh yesh... Choke me hard—Nghh!"
He squeezes her throat tighter, making her gasp. He then leans forward and goes for another passionate kiss, his tongue exploring her mouth. Seoyeon can't help but accept it, her lips parting. Their tongues dance around each other, their bodies grinding against each other. As it happens, he revs up his pace, pounding into her harder and faster, his hips slamming against hers.
"Oh shit! Yesh! Jusht like that!" Seoyeon screams, her voice is strained and shaky.
Her body arches and spasms, her nails digging into his skin. His grip around her throat tightens as he continues to fuck her, his thrusts becoming rougher and harder.
"Ohh! Oh fuck... Yesh... Yesh! I'm gonna—oh shit! I'm cumming!" she cries out, her voice hoarse and strained.
"You wanna cum, Seoyeon? You wanna cum all over my cock?" the bartender growls, his voice hoarse and thick with lust.
"Y-yeah... I wanna cum... Oh fuck..." she moans, her voice breathless and strained.
"Let's cum together, then," he growls as he pounds into her relentlessly, his hips slamming against hers'.
"Yesh... Oh yesh! Ghiv it to me!" she screams, her body writhing and convulsing.
"You want my cum so badly, huh?"
"Yesh, pleash!" Seoyeon begs, her voice weak and shaky. "Fill me up with your fucking cum!"
"With pleasure," he breathes out, his tone desperate.
The bartender then repositions himself, he squats on top of Seoyeon with his feet planted firmly on the ground and his hands on her knees, pulling her legs up against his shoulders, allowing him to thrust deeper and harder. This speed is unlike what he’s done to her earlier, this time he's more brutal and animalistic, and his grunts are guttural. Add Seoyeon's wanton screams of pleasure to the mix and it creates an audio-visual treat.
The cameras are capturing such an incredibly indecent act. It's nothing like you've seen in any porn or erotic media. It's primal, it's savage, it's visceral. It's fucking hot.
The bartender's cock pounds into her tight little pussy relentlessly, her body trembling and squirming beneath him. Her eyes roll back and her mouth opens wide in a silent scream, her orgasm building inside her.
"Oh fuck! Oh fuck! Oh fuck!" she cries out, her voice hoarse and strained.
"Urgh... I'm close, Seoyeon. You ready?" the bartender grunts, his voice heavy and husky.
"Cum... Ghiv me your cum," she breathes, her voice heavy and sultry.
"You fucking slut," the bartender growls.
"Y-yesh..." she stutters, her eyes rolling back. “I’m your fucking shlut.”
He thrusts his cock into her even faster, his hips slamming against hers. He pounds her as hard as he can, his thrusts becoming rougher and more brutal. His breathing becomes more ragged and erratic, his body tensing up. While Seoyeon lets out an animalistic howl, a guttural noise from the back of her throat, the bartender grunts and groans.
"Here it comes, Seoyeon! I'm gonna—Nrgh!" the bartender growls, his eyes rolling back.
"Pleash! Oh, pleash!" Seoyeon screams, her voice hoarse and shaky.
He lets out a loud groan as his thrust his cock deeper inside her, spurting white stuff all over her pussy’s walls.
"Argh! Take it, Seoyeon!"
"Ohh! Oh fuck, yesh!" Seoyeon screams, her eyes rolling back.
After a few strong thrusts, the bartender's hips come to a sudden halt, then bucks them, as he pours his load inside her. Seoyeon can't do anything but lie there and take his load, her body twitching and shuddering, her moans hoarse and shaky.
"Ooh... Fuck yeah," the bartender groans, his eyes fluttering shut.
"Ahh... Your cum... Sho mush... Nghhh!" she moans, her voice low and sultry.
"So tight, Seoyeon…" the bartender whispers, his voice thick and husky.
He thrusts his cock in and out of her several more times as if milking his cock dry. Each time he withdraws, a mixture of their fluids coats his shaft before being pushed back in, creating wet sounds as the excess spills out of her.
After a while, the bartender withdraws from her, a large amount of his cum dripping out of her abused pussy. She moans and writhes as he removes himself from her warm folds. And once free, she starts to squirt uncontrollably. Her lewd juices, mixed with his seed, splattered everywhere. She moans and whimpers as she experiences an intense yet silent orgasm, her body convulsing and twitching like something similar to an X-rated movie. It's obscene and vulgar.
"Shit, you're letting out a lot," the bartender breathes.
"Ohh! O-oh god!" she cries out, her body spasming.
The bartender just chuckles and looks at her, a satisfied smile on his face.
After what might be a minute of her uncontrollable orgasm, Seoyeon collapses onto the table, gasping and panting. She's completely spent.
"Damn, that was hot," the bartender breathes.
Seoyeon desperately catches her breath, her chest heaving up and down. Her mind is hazy and cloudy, her thoughts jumbled and unfocused.
"You did great, Seoyeon," he says, patting her head.
Seoyeon doesn't respond, her eyes fluttering.
"It's okay, you can rest now," he assures her.
Suddenly, a loud ring emanates from a distance. The bartender looks at where the sound came from. The camera then switches to the view of the timer. It's up.
"Damn. Time's up," the bartender sighs.
One of the staff members can be heard speaking up.
"Mister bartender... Seoyeon... It's time for the challenge," the staff member informs them.
"Understood," the bartender nods. "However..."
He shifts his attention to Seoyeon, who's still a picture of a blissful, fucked up mess.
"I don't think she can right now," the bartender chuckles.
"But the challenge," the staff member reminds him.
"Well, I don't really have a say in this," he shrugs. "It's her challenge to do, not mine."
The rest of the staff then discuss the current situation with each other. Meanwhile, the bartender checks up on Seoyeon. He cups her cheek, causing her to open her eyes slowly.
"Hey. Are you okay?" he asks, his voice gentle and concerned.
Seoyeon just responds with a weak smile.
"Can you still do the challenge?"
Looking disappointed, Seoyeon shakes her head, still weak.
"You'll fail the challenge if you don't do it," the bartender warns her, a calm tone to his voice.
"I—ugh... Hahh... My body's too weak to move," she admits, still catching her breath.
"I'm sorry," he tells her. "I didn't mean to get that rough."
"No, it's alright. It was fun, anyway," she tells him, a faint blush spreading across her cheeks.
"Thank you," the bartender smiles, relief evident on his face.
"I… I aim to please," she jests, a weak smirk forming on her lips.
The bartender laughs gently.
"So... Are you forfeiting the challenge?" he asks, his tone worried.
"Yeah... I guess I am," Seoyeon admits, looking down.
"That's unfortunate," he sighs.
"I'm sorry," she mumbles, her voice low and timid.
"Don't be," he replies, his voice kind and reassuring. "It's not your fault."
"Thanks, I appreciate it," she nods.
The bartender then turns to the rest of the crew, telling them what they just discussed. The staff nods in response.
"Unfortunately, Seoyeon has failed the challenge," the staff informs everyone.
"I'm sorry, everyone," Seoyeon weakly says.
"You have nothing to be sorry about," the staff member tells her. "We hope you still had fun."
"That I did," she smiles. "Thank you."
The timer on the monitor then disappears, followed by a message showing up:
"Sorry, Seoyeon. You failed the challenge. The pair should then proceed to the final area after a signal in a few hours. In the meantime, you can do whatever you want together in this area."
Seoyeon sighs. "That sucks."
"At least you still got to have some fun," the bartender replies.
"Fair point," she smiles. "You sure rocked my world, mister bartender."
"Why, thank you," the bartender chuckles. "But again, I'm sorry," he apologizes, his voice filled with guilt.
"Again, it's fine," she reassures him, her hand reaching for his.
The bartender looks at her hand and smiles. He squeezes her hand lightly in return.
"Well, I'm sure you're still tired from all of that,"
"You got that right," she chuckles.
"Then why don't you get some rest?" he asks, his voice gentle and soothing.
She nods, weakly.
"Thank you," she smiles.
He returns the smile and gently pats her head. Cradling her in his arms, he carries her over to a nearby couch, unblemished by their earlier debauchery. As Seoyeon settles into the plush cushions, she closes her eyes and succumbs to fatigue. Sitting down beside her, the bartender's hand rests on her thigh as he observes her drifting off to sleep. Even as the video fades out, the camera manages to capture Seoyeon's captivating figure; and you can't help but admire every inch of her nude body looking serene in sleep.
A few minor adjustments and another video is ready, revealing their intimate moments for the world to see. As you wrap up the video editing, hunger finally hits you after delaying it for so long. You quickly prepare the next episode of the show before going out to grab a well-deserved meal.
Pretty sure everyone will love to see the “captain” in action.
Another Spotlighting chapter down and many more to go! Thinking of a plot is easy with Seoyeon, but executing it is what's challenging. Not only am I clueless about her drinking habits, but I'm also clueless how people "make love in this club". 😅 So I might have to apologize if some (if not most) parts of the story are hard to read. Though I still hope that you enjoyed reading this chapter nonetheless.
And again... I would like to thank @digipigichopshop for lending his time in helping me writing this one. As well was @braaan for this really awesome poster. This might be my favorite so far, to be honest. I like what you did with the spotlight effect. 👍
