And fool me three times, and you’ll end up with a bad stomach from food poisoning by looking at your wife.
–
This would be very apparent from the dinner leaving a horrible taste in your mouth. Even with the five-course meal curated by the most fine dry-aged meats, the savory dishes spliced in immaculate presentation, and the fine refreshments of dessert after, you can’t help but feeling-
Sick.
The dinner had been pure, psychological torture from the moment you walked in. In kindness, you’ve excused yourself with a fist in your pocket, reaching for a pack of smokes as a way of coping (or in this case: relapsing). It’s safe to deduce that you’d be better off away from the crowd of people inside and finding solitude outside on the balcony at the long end of a corridor.
While the quick bliss of smoke, corroding your lungs with every puff and pass, it oddly clears your mind while staring out into the distance. It all hits you in quick flickers - flashbacks blinding you in a mixture of regret and wanting of reconciliation: the image of a woman with her hair swept so beautifully, wearing a dress with thin straps that look like they could fall off her shoulders so easily, standing in front of you with your hands wrapped around her hip ever-so slightly.
One cigarette goes, and another comes. You can’t stop your twitching hands. She definitely saw it, even from a distance. Staring at the ground a few floors up and the gentle breeze soothing your mind as the two women glanced at you from across the table - how one of them quickly put it altogether.
Despite how cushy the job was, it was literal hell trying to keep your sanity in check with all these women twisting your mind into a man fucked-
“I take one good look at you and think you’ll just throw yourself off the building,” a voice grabs one ear from behind, seeing the very woman who might as well point the gun at you and fire at your head, her face just as gloriously cold like the night, bare shoulders and thighs exposed beneath the slit of her dress.
For one, you’re leering - though not too much - since it’s best not to ogle and give into the urge to consume her entire look, ‘cause the girl’s close but still so far out of reach. Ripping into your stare before your eyes dart elsewhere. “Why are you here, Dahyun?”
“You look out of it, so I just wanted to see how you’re doing.”
Surprisingly, it’s dangerously appreciative of the concern, but you know well her silent anger is enough to kill a world leader if the cards aren’t played right. “Cut the bullshit, babe. I know.”
She blinks, pulls her lips flat. “Okay. Then-”
For the record: you’re an idiot. A complete fucking imbecile at that. Yet it’s in just the general nature for a man like you to give into desires that you shouldn’t be bothered by in the first place-
“How long, hm?”
-to be at an end recuperating such a sinful act. And you’re about to experience Dahyun reaping the absolute benefits of it.
“You have to understand,” you plead. “It wasn’t my fault-”
“Save it,” she says, her tone remaining calm; pitying your sorrows (in mourning for breaking the vow you swore at the altar). Reaching, Dahyun steps forward; not in anger, you think. But rather, willing to get the whole story before she comes to her own verdict of the situation. “First Momo, now Sana’s trying to get a piece of you for herself again. I always knew.”
God, she’s your own grim reaper looking deathly beautiful beneath the shining moon, her dress hugging the curves delicately that you can’t help but surf along them with your eyes. You’ve got this smoky look in your eyes which she notices - and she knows what they could mean, because she can’t break her gaze away.
“What exactly are you defending here, dub?” You mumble, a hurtful plea, just the thought of Dahyun (and Sana) is making you lose your mind more than just being disappointed with yourself, a part of you that wishes to take everything back and fill that craving of her that’s all-consuming.
Dahyun’s got no words to suffice, because it’ll just be a revolving door of the same issues over and over again. She can’t help herself, in the way you look at her and how she reciprocates it, like you’re back to wanting her after being pulled away from other beautiful women that are just as equally whipped for her. They can get you all they want, but Dahyun’s yours at the end of the day, drinking in your eyes; kissing you because she’s yours.
Against red wine and tobacco and you told Dahyun that you’d quit being a chainsmoker, but your tongue slips into hers and she’s falling in love with the very same mouth that did so from the beginning. Your hands grasp around her waist desperately, feigning less care that you’d rip the dress right off of her body; a drastic engulfing as if you’d never want to let her go. Dahyun’s feet then get her pinned against the wall, shrouded away from the world where you’d let your deepest sins rise from the darkness - kiss her until she begs to breathe once more, hushed through slack lips: “Everyone here drives me crazy, including you.”
It was never meant to be this sort of cruel reminder or notion of how things are; no, not even in the slightest. In the end, she’s the one who’s got the ring on her finger and you’re hung up on whether yours should be taken off or not. “I was angry with you once, but not anymore” she whispers, lips stuck in this heated inferno when you descend down the lower parts of her neck.
Kissing her pulse, the tip of your nose brushes her cheek. “We both know that’s a lie and you know it,” you say, “You know it; I know it. Why don’t you confront Sana and see what she says about this.” Since this has been a revolving door of many occurrences and girls falling in and out of your arms; though the one who has always stayed is keeping you right where you are. “What could she say, hm?” You propose, blindly angered.
“What could she say? As if she wasn’t the one to find out about you and Momo in the first place-”
“And you remember when she called me that night,” you grin, “Yeah you scare me sometimes, but I don’t fear you. Not when you’re like this.” A shrug is what you give when your hands claim her wrists, raising them higher above her head. “Everyone wants a piece of me just as much as they want a piece of you.”
Dahyun’s gaze freezes, watching as you make way a familiar path of placing an ear to her breasts. “I get that, but-”
“Don’t bullshit me.”
“Even if I were to say something, what difference would it make with the others? When Momo got you-”
“The first time was already rough as it is,” you grumble, “It’s not like I’m being shunned, am I? Besides; they don’t have me. You do.” Your eyes shimmer in hers. “So what if I’m being passed around like a boytoy-”
Dahyun’s shoulders loosen from your gripped wrists. “Maybe this was a mistake,” she sighs. “I shouldn’t have checked on you.” In lieu of saying: you’re fucking inssufferable is what you are - she blinks right through your face.
So: to hell with it. Fuck everything and everyone is the best presumption.
She tries to leave, but you don’t let her, keep her confined to the corner. “What do you think you’re gonna do? Who are you gonna go to? Sana? What would she say?” You ask, eyes narrowed.
“No. But I might if you don’t let-”
“Let go? Wow. I thought you’d stay and watch me wallow in my emotions.” Dahyun scoffs at this, since there've been many ‘disagreements’ before. Even when Jihyo made way to you that other time at an event like this, Dahyun was pissed. Your hands find solace at her hips, rustling fabric to skin. “I’d never let you off that easy.”
You hear her breath shorten as she tries to wriggle out of your touch; drinking in the dark, salacious intent your eyes pool out. “Babe- wait. We can’t, no. Not like this,” she says suddenly, because she knows what’s about to happen - even more humbling and pathetic to her own mind - much less of a plea or surrender in your name. Trying to break free from your hands but you raise hers high; higher actually.
“Didn’t you want to see how I was holding up?” You murmur, breath warm and lavicious. “For the record: I wasn’t doing okay until you came around.” There’s truth to this statement, overshadowed by the sneer in your tone. Your fingers slip in the opening of her dress, at her waist while the other cups her ass. “I could tell it was bothering you the way you slammed your glass on the table.”
“Sana and Tzuyu-” and her groan is the first real break in her act. “Ugh. Those two don’t know when to back the fuck off,” she admits, shaking her head. Turns out she was subjecting herself to her own psychological warfare of the other girls ogling at you from a distance.
You don’t buy her alibi at first, studying her figure as your hand traverses down between her legs: “I did say that you’re even hotter when you’re mad, but you being soaked is another,” you huff, “Look at you, Hyun. You’re dripping.” Normally, you’d take pleasure in finding this out, but it’s overshadowed. “Don’t tell me you’ve thought about Sana on me, too.”
“Do you really think that lowly of me?” She asks, doing all she can to not notice the press of your thumb on her little clit through the fabric. The assumption alone could be enough to not be on speaking terms, yet it’s very invigorating how frustrated the both of you are. Her head dips - an admission, “It would’ve been so hot, though.”
“Oh?” You say, settling between her legs, rumpling waves of fabric that were a measly barrier between the growing tent right at the seat of your pants, waiting to meet her long-awaited cunt. “What if I told them I’d also do the same thing I’m doing right now?” you gruff, “If that’s what my girl wants. Fine. Have it your way.”
Dahyun shudders at the voice; everything about the way your words are presented are so enunciated and punctual: “I’m going to take this body of yours as mine like it’s supposed to be.”
Her body follows the flow of your mouth and hands, responding to them with their own violation, thighs pressed against each other to sustain the feeling. One knuckle up her cunt wasn’t enough, so there goes another - or two, even - and the fabric between the inevitable crime is only making it worse in the need for more, and rough.
You’re taking it all in, in the sound of her hot mouth funneling in your ear. Utilizing all the friction you can to make her ache before you’ve even sunk your cock into the poor girl. Cumming in no time flat which is a small testament to how you want her to be, and how she wants you desperate to go all the way.
So much for her panties anyway: ripped from her hips and lost into the darkness behind. “Whoops,” you say, unbothered (yet you like it despite the little effort), “Didn’t mean to do that. Just hope you don’t drop anything in front of Sana, or Tzuyu, for that matter.”
(It’ll be an idea for her sometime in the future. Maybe when she’s been riled up enough to get an entire coalition to deal with your insufferable antics - to use you as their own personal servant until they feel like they’re willing to switch the roles around. You hope so, too. Dahyun will never know before the day it happens.)
Just like how she picked the ideal dress that hugged her body, adorned with all the curves and angles perfectly fitting with the intent of making you notice. Because she knew that you wouldn’t stop. She looks over the dim lights shimmering through the small windows, a small clamor of people stepping outside of the ballroom. “Someone could hear us, y’know,” she whispers, biting her lip as she feels the third knuckle bathing in her slick.
“Wouldn’t be the first time,” you drawl, the gentle groan of your zipper undone. Divide and conquer: work her lips while she gets herself open for you, whimpering at the feeling of your tip pressing hard into her entrance.
Not that it was some form of protest, wrapping a leg around you, pushing her hips forward for the angle where she likes it deep. Dahyun holds you close, to the neck and with fingers in your hair. You, on the other hand, are shameless and gripping her ass as the pace is being found, snapping your hips upward and letting her back hit the concrete behind her.
Dahyun’s body is a map you know all too well. It’s easy, and (always) good. She throws her head back and moans, letting the clenching cunt do its work around your length. “Right there, hon,” you rasp, quietly. “Not too loud. Cover your mouth if you have to.” She nods in reply, neck going slack as she can’t fathom the same spot of her cunt being worked over one thrust in the next - like she’s being transformed to a being that your only purpose is to love her.
For a girl like her-
One that comes off as inviting and prude in a second, to being an unfiltered deity who won’t back down in voicing her demands where she sees fit.
Fuck me.
The dark dress being lifted to reveal more is your own twisted version of a veil.
Harder, babe. Please.
“God, Dahyun-”
“Fuck me like you want me,” she commands, and you have to wonder if she truly wants to get so fucked over and make it the constant reality (which it already should be) to get you apologize with more than your mouth attached with apologies.
“Christ, you fucking tease.” It’s hardly an insult, but rather an affirmation of what’s owed: “You’re the biggest and neediest girl that needs to know where she stands. Insufferably whipped like there’s nothing else than that.”
Dahyun winces in reflex, as noticed by her cunt gripping your length like a vice. Her eyes blown in a hazy black, closing them in humiliation while the arousal continues to out her with every slam and drag back of your hips. Her face is against your neck, gently kissing the pulse; one more thing to worry about that’s clouding the impending edge you’re getting yourself off on.
The preferences in a short amount of time come in quick succession: hosting her up to the moonlight; fucking her fast and painstakingly slow, to the point where she has to slap your face to get your attention, despite that with one more slide down your shaft, she can’t bring herself back to earth as she cums all over your cock.
“You’re-” you choke because her whine was loud enough for someone to notice, but honestly getting caught would be better than being like this. “Absolutely wonderful, my love. Look at you, sopping all over my cock like you can’t help it.
“Fu- it’s so good, it’s too good I can’t fucking stop-”
“Don’t,” you sneer, letting one of her legs back down as she stops halfway, sharply inhaling at the flex of your cock inside her, clearly displeased. “If you don’t stop me, I’m going to fuck you until I cum in your pretty little cunt; we don’t want them to notice it after now, would we?”
The groan slipping out of your fiancé’s lips is pure music, mixed with her climax, but with every upward stroke inside she then realizes what was currently happening. Dahyun pulls your head close, where her mouth is back on your ear, and it’s a siren’s call: “If you really want to show that I’m yours, then you better mark me where everyone can see-”
“An absolute fantasy, baby. Oh my fuck-” you slip here because the idea’s way too rewarding with how the whole thing unfolded. “I bet you’d like the thought of seeing me get off with the others just as much as you are right now.” Because it could happen, and it will; just entirely a matter of when that time comes.
You kiss her, brutally, with teeth and tongue and every mixed emotion of anger and denial and wanting to own up your regrets to take back what’s yours. Dahyun feels it in the rough heat, and she’s hot all over. A bad desire that’s only boiled from the tension prior because you’d much rather have a mattress to fuck her in as opposed to sleeping in shame on the couch. “I’ll make it up to you. Here,” you confess, thumbs pressed to her hips as they hold her in place while you’re pushing the angle a little more deeper. “I’ll fuck you as many times as it takes if it helps you forget what the other girls have done with me; when you’re full and cock drunk and begging for more, then you could at least stop pretending like you’re not mine.”
“Please,” your girl sighs, and she’s begged for your cock multiple times, enough to tattoo it into your skin and bones. It almost makes her feel guilty; it’s in her eyes, and you might’ve both misunderstood each other- maybe. You get yourself off in her, thrusting without any sense of remorse, letting her moans fill your ears until it all becomes white noise-
“Yes, yes, yes, yes-”
You blink right through the simple praise, naturally cumming inside her like she’s meant for it.
It then gets messy, lackadaisical. Your entire body shudders as rope after rope is put inside her hole. Her head nods in approval, rubbed against your cheek. She’s melting in your hands, almost enough to make you worry she’ll slip right through your fingers.
“Fuck,” rasps Dahyun. “You came so fucking much.”
A groan is all you give in response.
She coos as you slip out and see her wobble, sinking to her knees, holding her breast and swiping her tongue to the underside for a quick second. “Think I can make you cum with my mouth in a minute?”
You gaze down to her beady eyes, breath hot on your balls. It makes your cock twitch on impulse. “I have a better idea.”
“Scared?” Dahyun tilts her head in confusion, which also forces her to stand up without you telling her. “What’re you-”
“You can clean up my cock later when we get home,” you say, lifting her leg and place your cock back in her needy entrance, revitalized from her small taunt. A few more thrusts even long after you’re spent, and you’ve came in her again. The tightness squeezing around your cock makes you leak when you pull out and land a little more cum on her inner thighs.
“Oh my god.” says Dahyun. “Fuck- you really couldn’t help yourself-”
“Save it,” you spit, take a moment to stop the shaking in your legs and get your pants right. Dahyun dips a finger to the mess below and has a taste for herself. She looks at you without any care, and your hips feel stiff once more.
“Do you realize how hot you are when you’re angry?” And she acts like the cloth doesn’t cut both ways.
“If you want Sana to know where we’ve been,” you tell her, grabbing her chin and forcing to your height advantage, yet she bites her lip because you know she likes it. “You’d show her yourself what’s under that dress, while also thinking of me.”
smut, 2.9k words
A/N: eyes & edits by @capslocked
read it on fanprose
“Running’s the warmup,” she argues.
“So, you mean to tell me that everyone here is in on… all of it?” You look over at the group, incredulous.
“Absolutely fucking everyone.”
You’re not entirely incredulous; it’s just hard to grasp. There’s at least twenty people standing in front of you both, most of them couples. She, however, was standing alone.
You hum. Muse. “Do you—” how do you really want to word this? “Are you like—fuck.”
She’s tilting her head, waiting; raises a brow. “Am I a good fuck?”
“Yes, that, actually,” you intone not-so-sarcastically, accepting the opportunity. “But also, are you single?”
“Is this how you hit on women?”
“Everyone’s paired up,” you try. “Who are you swinging with, I guess is what I’m asking.”
“Oh, none of those people. No orgies for me, either.” She takes a swig of her water bottle and begins to stretch: long legs—as long as her small frame allows for—crew socks, and shoes that look like they have not touched pavement until today. Pink runners because she's got chasing a runner's aesthetic, a runner's physique; everyone here is advertising the stamina, apparently.
“There’s orgies.” You echo.
“Like once a month.” Every other stretch, her large, branded tee raises enough to get a peek at the compression shorts halfway up her slender thighs.
“Sundays after church, or?”
“That’s when we do brunch,” she says. “There’s a mailing list.”
You scoff. “Fuck off.”
You both laugh and stare at the gathered crowd again. They’re stretching, talking, mingling. It’s a group bonding experience, at its most innocent—little to no subtlety, otherwise. Half of them sport rings, the kind that refer to legal status, yet they’re all a little too cordial with one another. You can spot abnormally comfortably touching and greetings and there’s this general familiarity with some groups of four that really does scream that they’re fucking each other’s spouse.
(Perhaps the brunette spilling all the details gave you a biased narrative, but yes, this is how you find out that the neighborhood running club is a front. When were they planning to outright tell you, exactly?)
“So,” you say, “you’re actually here for the running?”
“I told you, that’s the warmup.”
You realize she’s playing a game, that the answer to your previous question is no, and ask openly: “then, who’s going home with you?”
“Stray dogs like me.” The sunrise hits her face with a strong, orange glow. “Like you.”
~~
The coincidence of convenience isn’t lost on you. Her apartment’s on the way back from the jog and her name is Minjeong; she says it through hurried breaths and it has you realizing that it’s a preview for when she’s on your lap, under your figure—a preview for just about every position and preposition you’ll find yourselves trying later.
You take note of the perspiration on her brow, the light sheen, really. Minjeong doesn’t break a sweat all that much. She doesn’t try to. You remember what she kept insisting on earlier: that the whole running club is a front and that the workout’s just the fucking pregame. It’s not like she needs any extra cardio, either. There’s not forty-five kilos on the woman. You surmise that rather quickly as you carry her through the door.
“Where?” You ask, coming off of her lips, out of breath.
“Living room's got a sofa," she says, like that works for her, a coffee table and an ottoman too. The rug will be as good a spot as any, comes the implication.
She has her arms wrapped around you since before you unlocked the door, flipping stray, brown locks out of the way as you step in while looking over her shoulder. It’s a spacious place—makes you wonder about rent, because you always do in this economy, before finding yourself in front of her furniture. Kiss her a little longer before deciding: single seater or sectional? She’d look fucking great in either, wouldn’t she? Flipped over—bent over? Folded. Anything.
Minjeong’s thighs softly fill your palms with their pale and svelte figure; it all feels so tight, toned, yet so, so soft. So nice. You get a thought that she might need a warning label, a sticker of sorts, because it feels like you could break her if you drop her on the couch too suddenly. You’d place it just about anywhere, and it’d say handle with care, and you could see yourself pressing it with your thumb onto that smooth skin of hers to make sure it says there through all the fucking she’s about to go through—that it doesn’t flutter off when it gets fast, sweaty, and the thrusting gets a little unkind for a frame like hers.
You get so lost in the possibilities that she has to grip the back of your hair and rip you off of her lips.
"I know what I look like," she says into your mouth, hand at your nape and lips turning cherry-red. Lets the next kiss extend for a delightful too-long and her eyebrows do this really arch thing when she pulls away. “But I didn’t bring you all the way here just to, like, makeout.”
Flip a figurative coin. Sectional it is.
~~
(You do have to get back to the group after your little detour, but that’s not the reason it’s all in record time. See: you slot in, and it’s heaven—but don’t take your word for it.
Her eyes roll back like she hasn’t been stretched like that in months. Minjeong’s pretty vocal about it, too, which you’re certainly not getting over until at least next year. “Oh my fucking god,” she’s barely saying, mumbling, all winded. “Don’t stop.”
And you oblige, obey—can’t really tell in which direction authority’s being exercised. It’s tip-to-base. Lethal for both. She’s been placed on nearly every surface that’s remotely hip-height and convenient and you’ll both agree later that the kitchen island’s probably your favorite.)
~~
The club meets at least twice a week, barring any extracurricular activities, and you're already halfway through your first month.
That’s four times—you’ve had sex with Kim Minjeong four times.
But you’ve met five, today being the latest. She reads an invite from the club’s mailing list and you’re telling her to not say it so damn loudly. You’re at a restaurant; you’re on a date. To be fair, the wording isn’t explicit, but you’re elbow to elbow with other parties—families, couples, the like—laughing at the event’s theme and all of the innuendos.
Over appetizers, she tells you of all the times other couples have attempted to bring her back to theirs, how hot of a commodity she is. The hotshot twenty-five year old in a sea of marriages averaging over a decade her age.
“You like the attention.” You accuse.
“I—ok.” She’s nonplussed. Sits back. “No?”
“It’s vain.”
Her elbow goes on the counter, chin on the heel of her palm. She puffs her right cheek during the internal debate and you figure it’s a habit; confirm it somewhere down the line after you see it enough times. A cute, pensive pout. “It is.”
“Look at me,” you intone, mocking. “Young, pretty, and so unattainable.” And, credit where credit’s due, she does dress gorgeous. It’s the first time you don’t see her in workout-chic. Has this layered button-down under a polo with the sleeves rolled neatly-not above her elbows. There’s not a single piece of jewelry on her and that’s actually quite lovely. The modish simplicity takes you by surprise. There’s no better way to say it: you’re down bad. The sole leather shoulder bag to accessorize makes it feel like you’re the one tied up on the tanning rack, bound—already dead.
“Mmm, no.” She takes a fry off your plate. “I’m very much attainable.”
“To a select few.”
“To a very lucky few.” She reminds you.
“Lucky me.”
“Glad you’re clued in.”
There’s an eventual turning point where the conversation turns mundane, normal. You’re talking about all the things you have tried before that didn’t quite stick: crossfit, pilates, spin—christ—yoga.
You don’t mention sex, for once: no jokes, no deflecting emotional vulnerability in favor of wry, sexual humor—you talk, and learn more about each other in fifteen minutes than you ever would have otherwise, because the routine of run, fuck, leave was admittedly somewhat impersonal. It’s strange, but it’s the good kind of strange—the usual linear trajectory of meet first, fuck later turned on its head. You’ll be back to fucking each other’s brains out soon enough, anyway. It’s not an unwelcome change of pace.
“Feels like this is easier,” you’re eventually saying.
“Right,” she agrees. “Just show up and jog.”
“Just show up and jog.”
~~
So you made it back to her place, and you stayed over, and have been for a couple of days. She cleared a drawer for your things, your laptop has a permanent station at the dining table, and you have an inkling that the left side of her mattress already began molding to your shape.
You’re in that indentation right now.
“Like the way that feels?” She asks.
An affirming nod is all you manage. You’re doing everything in your power—communing with god, with the devil—to not fucking cum.
Her cunt is warm, devastating, and she keeps your tip right at the entrance while her hips continue this slow, subtle motion, circling above ever so slightly.
Every now and then it slips out just enough and, yeah, it’s audible: her arousal, creaming, waiting, equally as needy as you, but still wholly in control. You’re letting her nails claw at your chest and her long, straight locks frame her devilish countenance when she arches forward to let the next few breaths land right on your face. “I’m going to go deeper, yeah?”
You exhale, desperate.
Sinking, enveloping, her hips dip lower, vice-tight and going straight for the kill after way too long of just her hands and mouth and all that damn spit. “I want every last inch.”
~~
“Theoretically, if we were to go to one,” you start.
“So you’re interested.”
You hum tentatively. “No, not like that.”
“Also, we?” Minjeong asks
“Well—”
“I’m your plus one to an orgy?”
You shrug. “Yeah.”
“Cool.” She nods. “Better be.”
“We wouldn’t really join, anyway. The group.” You pick your argument back up. “Think I’d stay on the sidelines.”
“Voyeur. Kinky.”
“And an exhibitionist,” you add. “By extension.”
“Have you thought about this beforehand or did you just begin to list your kinks when you joined the depravity club?”
“Bit of both. Have to have my reasons now, you know, in case they asked.”
“And you’d be speaking for the both of us?” She starts to air quote. “Yeah, just the two of us. Yep, whoever wants to watch, I’ll be getting bounced on to death over in that corner.”
You think. Add on. “Would you rather show them your ass? While on top.” You’re speaking with your hands, pretend-holding her body towards an imagined crowd. “Or would you rather it be reverse, as in, spread towards them?”
Minjeong stays silent for a while longer than you would have expected; bursts into laughter. “I really don’t know.”
(She’s at the foot of the bed laying horizontal to you, who’s resting on the bed frame. Playfully, she hops over and on you, leg spread right over your crotch and leaning back with her hands by your legs.)
“What do you think will steal the spotlight more? This?” She takes a second, then flips over, putting her butt right on your cock. That underwear is tiny. “Or this?”
~~
Consider the follow-up scene and all of its details: you once heard how a picky eater should try something x amount of times in order to truly discern if they enjoy it or not. The variable tends to differ every time you hear the phrase, and the same concept probably doesn’t wholly apply to the current circumstance, but it's a tangential relation worth noting, nonetheless.
To start, her curtains are drawn wide open, hooked at either end. The glass goes floor-to-ceiling and you can’t deny that view—of the city, sure, but also of Minjeong, on her knees and laser-focused, hand pretty and veined and going blissfully fast over your throbbing length—this squelching fist that drips spit straight onto carpet.
Okay, the x count goes to one.
(Exhibitionism, apparently. It’s in front of the whole city, so it counts, no? There’s other buildings that are perhaps in line with how high up her place is, and the afternoon sun is shining into the apartment.)
Right. There she goes with that little moan of encouragement. Minjeong looks up, expectant, and her tongue’s out for the sake of performance. Ok honey, ouch.
You cum, all over that.
A sunbeam goes straight into your eyeball and, simultaneously, another rope shuts her eyelash to a close. It’s not really pretty, objectively. Sexually, it’s very fucking hot. Read: context-appropriate kind of filthy. She’s getting deservedly hosed.
(The rest goes everywhere, by the way: on her hair, her left cheek; runs liquid down to her chin. It’s tough to make it out in the heat of the moment. Maybe you’re going blind. She spits shallow when the concluding sprays make their way onto her tongue because you keep going far beyond your usual volume.)
“That’s—” Minjeong is covered, glazed, and entirely dumbfounded. She spits again, and cups her palm under her messed-up face to minimize the damage on her rug. “Are you good right now? What the fuck.”
You crack up. Breathing’s still catching up and you could lose your footing from a light breeze. “Oh my god.”
Spot her index swiping whatever it can off her sealed eyelid. “You are ridiculous.”
“Sorry,” you respond, sarcastic. “Didn’t want to drop the ball with your little experiment.”
“This is literally the most,” she says while standing up. “You have ever cummed.”
Her face glistens; you feel like laughing some more. It truly is incomprehensible.
“Gets turned on by showing off,” she sorta says to herself. “Cross that one off the list.”
Your rebuttal’s a quick and punctuated jab. “Sorry, honey.” You hand her a stray shirt for, you know, all that. “Will you be able to cum for a second time or do I have to finger you against the glass for it again?”
Yeah, that’s how it went, three fingers in and knuckle-deep. Her cunt stretched oh-so divine.
Spot the eye roll Minjeong gives you once enough white is swiped off her gaze. Ah, there—it’s not faux annoyance or ridicule that she’s looking to counter you with. She ponders on it for, like, a second too long, and her lips purse to subdue that pretty little naughty smile but the fucking way her body rolls into you starting from the womb when she inhales has you considering just how long your cock can stay hard to give her pussy another go, another orgasm, another round of her cheek—this time, cum-stained—against a window pane that points at two p.m. traffic.
“Gotcha.” You place a hand on her cocked hip and half-spin her frame towards the city. She doesn’t meet your eyes or dare to acknowledge it. How coy. “Open.” You instruct, and her legs follow suit, spread wide and keep straight.
It goes without saying but you cum for a second time in under two minutes and Minjeong catches up to you in even less than that.
~~
“I have rooftop access, pool and all,” she says some sleepless night later.
There’s a blanket in the middle of her living room and too much takeaway for two. All you do is nod, mouth full, and offer a hand to help her stand.
It’s open twenty-four seven, which further clues you in to her elusive net worth—leisure of the wealthy and carefree.
“I’m never up here,” Minjeong remarks, windswept.
Below, a metropolis draped dark and neon all the same. It’s well past bedtime for the working class—the streets are just that much calmer, nicer. You’re able to see a decent chunk of your biweekly circuit from where you stand.
Oh, important note: it’s not like you’ve been attending, as of late.
The small fee goes to waste when you pitch in for the usual group snacks and drinks and whatever else they decide to charge you for. You’ve been running the route with Minjeong, alone, enfolding further into that routine, or haphazardly falling for it: the scent in her sheets, of her shampoo; and, yeah, it’s been cute, but, it’s good to remember that you’ve also been keen on putting on a pseudo-anonymous show in front of her neighborhood and delighting yourselves in that newfound chemistry, however debased, demented.
You speak before a gust of wind whisks the thought away: “I think I really fucking like you.”
Realize the sentiment lands warm because even her eyes are smiling out at the view. She then laughs, mostly inwards. “I called you a stray dog.”
“You can call me—” take hold of her hands and have them meet and wrap around your neck. “Whatever the fuck you want.”
And, yeah, you’ll continue finding that balance along the way: the cute-hot, love-lust. You’ll oscillate, sink into the whirlpool of fucked-out adoration and heartstring-wringing devotion. Her gaze is fucking devastating and your fingers get lost in their favorite part of her back.
Minjeong steps close; allows herself to be pulled in. “I guess,” she starts, lips awfully close. It’s the first time you’ll ever kiss her like this. “I’ll call you mine.”
Yeah, okay, whatever—you'll admit it: you're obsessed with Tzuyu's thighs.
It is what it is.
You are but a man, a living being: flesh, blood, pulse; an internet connection and access to hyper-zoomed photos and slow-motion fancams and excessive manifestos on Chou Tzuyu's legs and Chou Tzuyu’s waist and Chou Tzuyu’s perfect dimples and smile and the golden-ratio proportions; the S-curve, the hourglass of her; none of which get as straight to the point as these carefully curated comments:
notice me mommy
pleeease sit on my faaace
let me dieeeee between those thighs good looooooorrrrdddd
(Or, for the cinephiles: the quote-tweet of a poorly composited clip; one side—Tzuyu shaking ass, the other—a GIF from Mad Max: Fury Road of the guy jumping off a speeding truck yelling WITNESS MEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!
But you know what?
Fuck yeah: witness you, indeed.)
Witness you now, camped out in her dressing room—your home for the past fifteen minutes—listening to the roar of tens of thousands of people bleed through concrete and steel while you wait with your VIP pass and your fast-fracturing patience and your cock heavy and in a far worse state than it was backstage at the Victoria’s Secret show; that had Tzuyu in a number that pushed her tits up so delightfully it crashed their whole website; shopping carts flooded by wishes for cleavage that could look half as glorious as hers.
And then she's there, or here, and you're drafting a manifesto of your own.
“Baby—” is how Tzuyu starts, and all it gets her is a hand around her waist, fingerprints pressed into sweat-slicked muscle, and she just goes with it—lets herself be reeled through the threshold and spun into you until the arrangement goes: 1) the door, 2) her body, 3) your cock, 4) you.
“Hell of a show,” you coo into her ear, pulling out the shiver she's kept coiled tight just for this moment—a pressure valve, a controlled detonation, released the second your thumb presses into the meat of her thigh.
“Baby—” again, and your girl is burning up: stage-lights hot, dimpled cheeks gone rosy red, flushed throat to sternum, wrapped up in what is just a feat of costume design and structural engineering and frankly the pinnacle of human craftsmanship: the leather corset cinched around her chest, doing theological work with her tits; the matching hot-pants sealed over her thighs (likely had to be poured on earlier, left to set, that's the only possibility); the knee-high boots she is absolutely not going to be able to walk out of here in.
She leans anyway—gracing you with more room to work in, rolling herself against you, because there's a countdown until you both have to clear the stadium and it's only hard and fast from here on out.
(Don't concern yourself with whatever wreckage survives into the aftermath, you're not going to see this room ever again, anyway.
Well. Until next tour.)
“Need a minute?” You're busy taking stock: the rapid shallow breaths, the copper-spun hair matted to skin, the sweat tracing her collarbone and running rivers to places you'll find the end of soon.
Tzuyu tilts her chin up, cocks an eyebrow. That stadium-filling smile. So ruthlessly, indiscriminately gorgeous. Real breath-taker, soul-stealer, habitual cock-hardener; your girlfriend (you lucky, lucky fucker). Another grind of her hips against you finds you stretching. “Could you even wait a minute?”
“No, but I thought I'd be polite and ask.” You shrug, bump your hips back, far less graceful and subtle than the little ditty she pulled off; through your denim, dragging across her abs, a point of punctuation on her body. “Consent and all.”
“Oh?” She laughs; small, private, non-transferable to anyone outside this room. Rises on her toes so the tip of your cock drags down to where she actually wants it, takes your face in both hands. “Is this something I'll need to consent to?”
“Just your standard offer for concert aftercare,” you deadpan. “Very exclusive. One provider.”
“That's funny. I don't remember subscribing.”
“Opt-out situation,” you tell her, lips finding the exact junction where salt and sweet meet on her neck. She sighs, end-to-end. “Really have to read the fine print.”
“You know how I am with that sort of stuff.” And it's really something; your Tzuyu underneath everyone else's Tzuyu—stage-beautiful but zero performance left in those to-die-for cheekbones; just her, released and free, origami in your hands, folding like she was always going to—a swan, some sort of songbird, or maybe simply a fucking lawn chair, if permitted. “You get your hands on me and I just can't help but say yes.”
Tzuyu: dressed like this and saying shit like that.
Yes, you both are embarrassingly, irretrievably, categorically gone over each other; and it's your problem, and hers, you've both long made peace with it, ready to be buried in clearly marked graves, side-by-side: here lies Chou Tzuyu and her secret boyfriend who fucked each other well and truly to death.
So, of course you're going to kiss her.
Lips on hers—same every time, new every time—her sighs feeding into your lungs, hands fisting in your shirt, hips translating heat into friction. Her tongue finding yours in ceremonial greeting; sparking up the sign outside, reading: occupied, all yours, always been yours, you just had to show up and smile.
And it's the release from her, all of it: everything that's been pulled taut since soundcheck, since this morning; each glance she's had to swallow, instinct suppressed by choreography and professionalism and forty thousand watching eyes.
The kiss compounds, stacks on stacks. Her leg lifts, hooks behind your shin, grinds the core of her against you—more, wanting more.
You stop yourself. Pull your lips free. The whimper that follows is pitchy and involuntary and criminally cute.
Her bottom lip wobbles, doing its intended and well-documented work on your heart.
“Why?” she asks—genuine, adorable, the whole bullshit shebang—how could you ever deprive an angel like this of such an innocent/filthy carnal desire?
You peel her hands from your neck, leaving them at her sides. Like a good girl, she waits.
Then you slide down to your knees.
The sound she makes could shatter something; it settles for the room's acoustics, forces it into submission, bends it over a knee.
“Ah,” she exhales. “That's why.”
Hotter down here. Always is: down-lights been baking her all night and it radiates off every inch, and at this distance—breathing her in, flooding your airways with the tangy-sugary-rock-salt-fucking-umami-scented compound of Tzuyu after three hours on a lit stage, the heat pooling thickest right at the deep crease where her legs meet. Coherent thought exits the building, it was never given a backstage pass, and the inside of her knee gets an open-mouth kiss—she nearly keels over completely, hands scrabbling for your hair.
“Oh God—” and you can hear the laugh underneath it, the perpetual disbelief at how fast she comes apart. “You have no idea how long I've been thinking about this.”
“I have some idea.”
“Your fault,” she says, and her voice fractures on it—”oh—standing at the barricade, staring at me the whole time; you have a problem you know—always looking at my—”
“Precisely.”
(And permit the detour: just to pontificate about Tzuyu's thighs because they warrant it.
Her thighs are strong. Belonging to both the Goddess and the statue depicting her—inspired by myths, carved out of marble—everyone gets to see the output; nobody gets to feel the mechanism but you. Thousands of hours of training and dancing condensed into lean muscle that locks on either side of your skull and could, if you don't hurry up and get on with it, end you.
But you're with the manifestos on this one—it'd be a perfect way to go. Heat coming off them in waves, obscene against your lips, all that tension gone soft and pliant the second your mouth's on her, flexing when she likes something, gripping when she likes it more—under your palms, against your jaw, clamping over your ears; two years deep and not one degree cooler about it.
Glory, glory, hallelujah.)
Your tongue drags higher. Slow. Taking stock along that honey-gold strip of skin. She tenses under your mouth—quads jumping—and her fingers in your scalp go from grip to claw.
She breathes, “You're unbelievable.”
“I've been told.”
“There's other places for your lips besides my legs you know—ah—”
The rest dissolves: you're busy running your tongue along the seam where leather draws a strict border against the plush of her thigh, finding the points where she's holding the most tension, that make her hips buck up, where the fabric is already warm and damp and about to get so much worse.
It earns you a warning: “You need to get these pants off me.”
“Give me a second.”
“You've had all night—”
“Shh.”
“Shh?”
“Let me appreciate you.”
“That’s what the concert was for, honey—”
“No, that was for everyone else,” you correct her, breathe it straight into the leather. “This—” You make a show of it, the séance you’re performing on your knees, spellbound by the tightest leather on the sweetest body. “These—are for me.”
She manages, barely, “Always.”
You nod, reverently. “So. Shorts. Stay on. For now.”
Tzuyu goes quiet. Breath hitches. Oh, she knows what it means, what you want. It moves through her, settles deep, has her relaxing against the door, parting her legs. “Fine.”
Hands hold her cheeks, digging in, the type of shit you revel in; putting your girl through this. Getting closer, deeper in that crevice, slowly, slowly, slow—until her thighs slap against your cheeks, a clapperboard calling action.
And then you put your mouth on leather. On her.
Sighs—turning into unhinged, sloppy sounds—eke through the gap between her thighs and your ears, knees drawing you in, lethal force, and this is one for the history books, something Darwinian, maybe that grave only has room for one; here lies you, suffocated with the biggest pussy-eating grin on your face, found choking on leather and your girlfriend's cum.
Zero complaints there, anyway.
“Oh fuck—”
“Quiet,” you say into her folds, even though experience tells you this word has had little success with Tzuyu; but, honestly, whatever fuels the kink.
“Trying—” she gasps, hips rolling against your face, proving your point. “But you've got a mouthful of my cunt and you're telling me to keep it down?”
“Mostly leather,” you hedge, but Tzuyu really is grinding hard—hard enough that the heat cuts sharp and precise. Press harder, force out more of these keens, ‘til she has to muffle herself with the back of her own hand.
Kneeling at her altar, getting where she's hottest—tongue dragging up and down the inside, lathering under the seams, working into the gap and getting torturously close; wetness already leaking through, running down; scoop it all up, suck it down, drink your holy communion and cherish every drop.
Exactly what she deserves (Tzuyu, the outfit, these thighs). So, so sensitive, it's so rude—a flicker of your tongue, a press of your lips, pure filth rumbled against her skin and she's gasping, writhing, the idol outline breaking, reconstructing into a shape a bit more pliable, dissolving into a soaked, sweat-drenched mess.
“It's always so easy for you isn't it? Hate how good it is—” and it comes out as a whimper, pleasant, tipsy slurring as Tzuyu's voice pitches higher, higher than please, for God's sake, keep it down this time; the very polite request Nayeon made that you fully intend to break.
Has you questioning the thickness of the door, reminiscing about Osaka, the last stop, when Tzuyu got so obscenely loud that Jeongyeon herself burst in to see if her group's dearly beloved youngest was being murdered—only to be yelled at: get the fuck out, he's killing me with his cock.
These thoughts get pocketed, to be added to later.
Nose pressing hard into the peak of her pussy—taking a long, selfish inhale; fingers holding firm against the muscle, lifting her ass off the door so she can sink further down your face.
“Please,” and she's getting desperate, fingers knotting in your hair, trying to hoist you in. “Take them off—I need your mouth on me, I need to feel you—”
“Not yet,” you tell her again, but she blathers on and on—how Tzuyu always gets—at her best and her worst; a bundle of needs arranged in a neat hierarchy, scratch that: it's just a fucked up ouroboros with your tongue at the beginning and the end and her thick thighs and her full-lipped cunt being looped through in the middle of it all.
With your mouth on her, it always is. Sucking bruises into her long legs, taking the skin between your teeth, marking the softest parts on her body, your declarations, her medals she gets to wear later—this is mine, this belongs to me; next concert she'll be forced into shorts cut far too high to hide them. The idea of it, the zoom on the lenses, the high-definition rendering; they'll see it and they'll figure it out: this goddess belongs to someone.
Her mantra confirms it: “Fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck-pleaaaase—”
You don't slow—not yet—not until she's writhing against the wall and her thighs are clenching and unclenching around your head in a rhythm to match the high and whorish sounds slipping from her mouth. You can hear her start to weep, but her cunt is sprouting tears far quicker; against your chin, down your neck, soaking into the collar of your shirt—you haven't even touched her properly yet.
You'll correct that.
You leave her with one final, deliberate, hard suck of your lips against your favourite bruise. Leave the skin red and glowing with your spit. One gratuitous slap against the curves spilling from the back of her shorts, just to see the ripple.
Then you stand.
Tzuyu blinks slow, can't quite land it. She'd glare if she could aim it—slumped against the doorway, fixing on your lips—shiny, wrecked from your project on her thighs—to drag herself level.
Two fingers under her chin, tilting her face until she's looking at you, meeting your eyes—all that dazed awe pointed straight at you. A nod at the vanity in the corner. “Get over there. Turn around. Bend over. Hands on the counter.”
Tzuyu doesn't say a word. Barely breathes.
Bites her lip, nods, and stumbles her way over.
You track her—flushed, a little disappointed that you left enough integrity in her knees to make the trip. The wobble in her limbs, the stripe of sweat running down her spine, the small of her back, disappearing beneath the leather.
Your girl, your performer, your one and only idol; the most out of this world, hand to God, strike you down where you stand, beautiful woman you've ever been in the vicinity of. The outfit on its way to ruin: tight leather still doing its heroic work against her sweaty tits, hot-pants finding darker shades; midnight stained vantablack from your mouth, from her leaking through; hair coming loose—hours to build, minutes to take apart.
She braces herself on the counter, falling forward until her hands land with a soft thump. The mirror stretches across the wall in front of her, fogged slightly at the edges from the heat churning through the room, and she spots you staring through the glass. Gives you a show, whether she means to or not.
You watch her watch you in the reflection—the instinctual arch of her back as you step closer, habit pushing her ass out to receive you. Hands find her hips, thumbs into the sublime belt of skin above the waistband.
A push here and she preens.
Lips back where they belong; dragging up her spine, her throat, up the columns of temples built by worship alone, feeling the foundations, the muscles tense and flex underneath.
Closer and closer, slurping the sticky-sweetness pooling at the crevasse of her neck and shoulder, setting up camp under her ear, before pitching lower to drag over her jaw, her lips slacking open by themselves and you're going to wedge inside—
“Hurry.”
You breathe into her mouth, “What do you need?”
“You,” she sighs, an exhale, a relief. A kiss atop her chin, the tightening of your grip. She knows it's not enough. “Your mouth. Your hands. Wherever. Everywhere.”
“Everywhere? I've only got the two.” Hands drift higher, up her sides, around her back, slowly, torturously slow, working the lacing loose. Not for need of effort—you've long since learned your way around bobby-pins and double-sided tape and enough knots to make you a certified sailor.
“Anywhere—my—”
The final string comes undone. A shrug has the straps off her shoulders and the corset falling, pasties dropping with it. Leaving her bare from the waist up, and you get indulgent with it, take your time. Look up, into the mirror, take it in. Only for a second.
Accounting for all the best decisions in your life, and every past life too; rewards for time spent in previous reincarnations possibly as some celibate monk achieving enlightenment; only to find in the next leap that true nirvana is actually between Tzuyu's legs.
This current incarnation has you discovering exactly how far down the flush goes, splitting the difference between her breasts; the same ones that fill your hands, splay through your fingers—and they rise and fall, shrill inhales making them heave, nipples pebbling at just a brush of your fingertips.
And Tzuyu, finding her words, the simple, single-syllable vocabulary she has for you: “There—more—yes.”
Toying with them, flicking the peaks, waiting for the right stiffness to pinch. Sharp enough to make her hiss, then ask: “Enough for you?”
“God no,”—loud, decisive, helpless. A demand underneath a laugh. “Your cock. My pussy is literally in tears right now.”
You laugh into her shoulder.
“Weeping. It's so tragic.”
“But does it deserve it?”
“I don't—” and she checks your reflection, honestly considering it. “I don't know. But I do know what I'll do to you if we don't shut it up with your cock in the next minute, and it'll be significantly worse than what you're planning.”
That's more than enough of an answer. You step back, admire the damage. “We'll see about that.”
And the gasp when you free yourself—the button, the zipper, the jeans—because she's been so lost in herself that she's only just realising how much of an entire situation it's been for you since the very start.
You catch it all: the drag of her tongue over her lips, the bite that follows. The shudder, the pupils flooding dark when she sees you.
You say, “You did this.”
“Are you ever not so—” She fumbles, forgetting her words when she watches you step closer, resting the length of you atop her ass with a definitive slap. “So full.”
You lift her, adjust her so she's as tall as she can be—the heels help but don't have her quite high enough for your nefarious ideas; you hold her whole weight in your hands.
She reads your mind, tilts her head back against your shoulder and says, “Go on. Take me.”
Reaching around, popping the button of her shorts, the shudder as you drag them down, her drenched panties with them—over the swell of her hips, down her thighs, force them over the boots until she can kick them off and land them somewhere behind you.
And then it's just her, Tzuyu in knee-high boots and nothing else, long limbs bare and red and littered with your branding; red highlighted against cream, glistening from the slick and the spit.
You step forward, position, aim, level yourself with her. Thumbs press into her ass, parting the valley of her cheeks, edging her knees slightly apart. Fingers firm around her waist, holding her in place, the squeeze of her thighs.
You slide right between them.
“Oh my God—” Her head lifts, eyes clenched shut, fingers scrambling at the counter, knocking over all the pieces that helped put her together hours before, sending them tumbling to the floor. “Always so thick between my thighs.”
You groan, grunt, can't help it—the first slide is unholy. You see it all, watch it through the mirror; the head of your cock emerging from between her locked legs, coming out the other side slick and dark, and it's heat and softness and smooth all around, her cunt lathering you as you push through.
Slowly, carefully, the friction easing with every pass; the schlick sound of it filling the entire room.
“It's going to ruin me,” Tzuyu realises, feeling the way you throb between her, engorged and fighting against the grip of her muscles. “When this gets inside me it's going to fuck me up, isn't it?”
You pass by the rhetorical, focused on setting a rhythm. Something slow, paced, plenty of room to drag achingly along her cunt, let your cockhead push against her clit and force a bit of pressure with each thrust. And Tzuyu responds in kind, finds the motion at once—rolling her hips when you press forward, polishing your thickness with her juices, your cock properly lacquered and stained in budding girlcum.
“Your thighs,” you breathe into her ear, pulling her back against you, catching in the glass two people with unflinching grins on their faces, utterly fucked out of their minds. “Always showing them off, stadium after stadium, leaving them on everyone's mind. You know how many people are probably choking themselves over you right now, yeah?”
“I only care about one,” Tzuyu murmurs back, eyes blinking closed and open again, as if to double-check, maybe it's a dream, maybe the wrecked visage reflected in front of her is too blissful to be true—some bizzaro-doppelganger that just happens to look like her except in her sluttiest, most honest form; tall and proud and tits on display, nipples like pendulums with every thrust, swinging up and down.
“And look at them now. So perfect around my cock,” you grit out, her thighs twitching around you as if they have a mind of their own, pressing you in from either side, God. “It's genuinely insane.”
And the sigh, the quiver, the shudder when you tell her:
“You're made for this, Tzuyu.”
“I know,” she says, words turning into mud; formless, less coherent the more you push. “I know—it's so right. Feels so—fuck—you feel so good. This is all I've been thinking about since—”
“All show.”
“Before then,” and she smiles, laughs, because she has a secret she's been holding. “I knew it. Knew when they showed me this outfit. This ridiculous corset. Those tiny, tight shorts. I told the stylist straight away—this outfit is perfect.”
The smile, pure innocence concentrated into a lie that you almost believe. She rolls her ass back against you, dips her hips into that dangerous vector; the one where her thighs clench and angle your cock higher, where the head of your cock brushes against where she's most swollen, most shamelessly soaked; drinks down the look in your eyes when she does it again and again and again.
“Perfect to be ruined. Perfect to get fucked in. Perfect to make my thighs look so good for you.” The noise you thrust out of her next—a grunt, a throat cleared—enough to get the next words out clean: “Now tell me it was enough to get you to fuck me properly.”
You answer with speed—with force—pushing your cock right through, forcing her clit to flicker roughly, a guttural 'Christ'—from someone's lips—hers, yours, you can't parse it—as your hips piston right into her ass.
“Faster—I'm—” she starts, but you know; because you're melding at this point, sharing one mind, one slick, urgent rhythm that makes the vanity, the mirror, the bottles, the whole stadium seem to rattle.
Knuckles turn white, she's meeting you thrust for thrust now, pushing back against you; each and every time—cock slides through the squelch-smack-sploosh of it, head bumping against her clit, an obscene little kiss with each pass, a call met with a response in the form of a jerk or a whine or just the squeeze of her around you to let you know that yeah, she gets the message.
“Holy—close,” she gasps, grabbing the word and holding onto it like a lifeline—through the thrusting, the trembling thighs and ragged breaths and the way she's so wet your cock is just dripping with it. “So close, so close, don't stop—please—”
Not in a million fucking years.
You reach around, fill a palm with her tits, squeeze, pinch, bring her closer and twist just right to have her body in fits; a seizure that makes her knees buckle together and your vision blur for an instant—but it's enough.
She lifts up—higher, goes to the tops of her toes, as tall as her heels would allow, coming off your cock, letting the tip drag down to land at the centre of her, across her folds—settling against the only place it really belongs.
“Oh-wait-God-fuck-I'm-not—”
You pull her down, push right through that blistering-hot cumhole and thrust hard all the way in, full-length, every thick inch fed to her greedy cunt, and Tzuyu screams.
“God-yes-fuck-you—” and the expletives that follow, something filthy and loud that can't be stopped by any number of walls—and the one thought in your mind that isn't some variation of holy-shit-Tzuyu's-ridiculously-wet-cunt-is-choking-my-cock knows Nayeon's going to have some words about this later.
But her pussy pulses, fights your cock thrashing against its walls; Tzuyu snapping shut around you so hard you can barely move, and she cums and cums and cums; her head thrown back, hair draping over your shoulder; wailing, moaning, cursing your name and your cock and your ancestors and the fact that this is only the first time you've made her cum today and you owe her so, so much more.
Squeezing and wrenching and desperately trying to milk you with every devastating method it has in its arsenal—but you don't fall with it, you don't finish it.
Yeah, God, of course you want to, you're right there, legs dangling off the cliff—but you're not done with her yet, not even close.
So you just hold her against you, let her shake, let her cunt flutter so heavenly around your shaft, her abs flex and quiver under one palm, her heart leaping out of her chest and through the lovely tit you've got a firm grip on. Let her drool onto your shoulder, tongue, mouth gone slack and eyes glassy, looking up at you because it is—reliably, catastrophically—and it bears repeating—every goddamn time.
You twist her, cock slipping out a few solid inches and she makes a sound of loss that would fit in a funeral dirge; but yeah, you just want to kiss her, something rough and claiming, to help her swallow the broken sobs she's still making.
And she kisses you back, desperate, like she wants to hurt you with her tongue and her lips, teeth catching your lower lip; hands, fingers, fingernails clawing at your skin and your hair and there really is only one thing left to say:
“Inside me,” she spits into your mouth; words of a woman who is owed a grand railing and is ready to call in the whole account, backdated to the day you met, “I need your cum inside me. Now.”
She reads the stupid smirk on your face. Bites your lip again.
Again: “Now.”
You step back, length completely sliding out of her; cunt-drool keeping you tethered to her pussy lips.
Tzuyu groans, nearly collapses against the mirror.
“Then earn it, Tzuyu.”
There's little room left for grace, you manage what you can; an awkward-four-legged crab walk because Tzuyu's still shaking and needs you to support her weight as you collapse onto the couch.
A thud and you're seated, Tzuyu falling into your lap; your flawless girl, tits level with your lips, thighs bracketing either side of yours, cunt juice streaming down the plane, and her hands on your shoulders, bracing for what's next.
“Needed this,” Tzuyu sighs; cradling your head closer to her chest, welcoming the tongue that snakes out, rolls around a nipple, the teeth grazing the sensitive slope of her tits.
You jerk your hips, drag your cock through her folds—not inside, not yet—and she grits out your name. “I know.”
“No—you don't,” she tells you, smile on her face, wistful and pretty and she's just melting into your hands on her hips. “You know how hard it was to not go looking for you? All day I thought about—fuck—thought about finding you. Getting on my knees,” she closes her eyes, bringing herself back to some half-remembered dream. “Wanted to take your cock deep and drink you dry and fill my belly full of your cum—but I had to stop. Do you want to know why?”
You don't need to respond; you know the real answer, can feel it thrumming through her.
Tzuyu nods, slow, languid. Leaning in, dipping her head, breath hot against your jaw like she's letting you in on a private confession, something she'd only admit through the longest, sweetest torture. “I wanted you desperate. Hard all day. Needed you thinking about nothing else but me and my mouth and my cunt and my thighs.”
Your cock's fighting your own willpower, levelling with her entrance, you can feel the pulse of her meeting your throb; beads of precum slitting out of your cockhead ready to make the leap into her cunt. It's a game of millimetres at this point—a slip of your hands, a twitch of her hips, a slight fucking breeze; all it would take to break her.
“So I think I deserve a reward—for being so good for you, don't I? Or maybe you're mad at me for not taking your cock sooner—you can tell me I've been bad, that I need to pay you back, that I owe you—” Tzuyu's lips skate across your chin, doing their wicked work, inhaling every wisp of desperation and pure insatiable need that's been simmering underneath your skin all day. “Please, go ahead and put me in my place.”
“Fine.”
A forced exhale—wind knocked out from her lungs and into yours; cunt parting around you hot and slick and Jesus Christ she's so fucking tight, but you drive through it, wrenching her down while forcing yourself up and by the time you're fully hilted there's just one high, continuous sound she's making—a choir of wails, sobs, cries; a blissful chorus.
Her hips tilt to draw you deeper, thighs locking around your waist and there's the whole of your interior life, mind returning to one reliable verdict—you can't help it—death, taxes, and the combination of both when you collect what you’ve been dying for from Tzuyu's tiny, pink pussy and fill her so completely she can launch a one-woman investigation into the existence of the afterlife herself.
And you know her, know your girl, she wants to be more eloquent about it, wants to find a better way to convey how good you're railing her right now—so easily, firm quick strokes gliding in and out of her blistering cunt; guided by your hands holding her waist steady, but all she can manage is the high-level shit, the words that don't really matter but the effort to make them is Herculean nevertheless: “There—God—there—fuck—please—fuck—fuck—fuck—”
You hold her, fuck into her, just watching her—this ideal idol, letting your thighs slap against hers, punishing the muscle; absorbing all the details, the classified information that never leaves your desk.
Her face when you bottom out; the squeeze of her eyes, the slacking of her jaw, this euphoric grin dancing across her lips. Her tits and their heft, the bounce with every stroke—putting a hand back on one, filling your palm whole; the thought there—did you mold them, or were they tailor-made for you—or really, who gives a fuck because a squeeze makes her squeal so delightfully and you know that if you roll it she'll clench, cunt will pulse once, twice, around you and her head will drop back and she'll tell you again—
“More—there—”
“Yeah?”
And mumbling, fumbling around the back of her pretty head, sorting through all the things that may have existed there before you started filling it with thoughts of your cock, diving deep for the words and somehow managing to string them together—”Both—please—your hands, mouth, whatever—touch me more—”
You return your teeth to the other and her volume pitches; whips its way around the room, like it's searching for the cracks, the little gaps under the doorway so it can sneak into the corridor, down the hall—reaching for someone, anyone who can acknowledge how thoroughly you satisfy Chou Tzuyu's cunt.
“Your cock is so damn good,” she breathes; and that's all there really is, plain and simple, the why of it all.
What you've always known—sure you're helplessly, embarrassingly, probably-going-to-ask-her-to-marry-you-eventually down bad for her, even though you both know that you really are.
It's this—pounding Tzuyu's insides and being thanked for it. Her grip, her heat; not just her tits, her whole body, glorious thighs and all; engineered with this application in mind; an absurdly deranged thought to conjure—a decade of discipline, of investment, liquidated against your cock; an endpoint to just bounce mercilessly.
You remind her of it too: “Forty thousand people,” you mark the record into the underside of her tits.
“Please—”
“Every single one of them.”
“I know—please—I know—don't stop—”
“Going home right now,” you drive into her, shattering her on the downstroke, coming back together when you pull her up, just to break her into pieces again when you impale her completely. “Dreaming about these thighs—this body—this tight cunt stretching around me so nice.”
She's just properly gushing now, unashamedly messy with it; from her cunt, down your cock, past the crevasses of her thighs slapping on top of yours and ruining the couch below, but so what, sell it online or something; a Tzuyu-fied cum-stained couch; the sweaty outlines of your fucked, formless bodies on the cushions, would make a great centrepiece in any international gallery.
But anyway, back to the obvious: “It's all fucking mine,” and before you even have to tack on the end of it the question, Tzuyu's already picking up what you're putting down—
“All of it,” she says, just holding herself by your shoulders now, digging herself in, fastening herself down for the storm, “Yours”—once, pounded out of her—“Yours”—again, but broken, shattered; losing its footing in her lexicon. “Only you—only for you.”
And the other thing, what's left when it all slips: the composed, picture-perfect idol facade vacated, checked out, no lens in the world able to catch what's underneath. Just her and her wanton needs—fucked raw, fucked hard, wrung dry and left boneless. If she can walk or make words, or remember her name after this you've fucked up, because this was always her scheme: she chose the outfit, laced herself up in straight-up mainlined sin knowing you'd tear it off, spent all those hours on that stage with this exact destination in mind; so, yeah, hurry the fuck up—pick up the pace.
The couch jostles, fights the wall behind it, the carpet underneath. Something crashes to the floor, rolls off a table, never even mattered. Tzuyu stops holding back, the words come out clean, no longer minced; it was only ever a matter of time, because she's finally getting what she needs and yeah, the whole room, all of backstage, her groupmates down the corridor; no doubt are all well fucking aware.
A problem for later, you suppose.
“They can't imagine,” she says, unique to just her when she's at the end, more coherent, not less. “My tiny pussy—filled so—fucking—deep,” breathlessly, urgently, getting off on saying it, getting off on knowing it's getting you off too, “Stretched—ruined—a big cock full of cum saved just for me.”
Using her in every way girls like her should never be, but pussies like hers are built for—fucktoy, fleshlight, cocksleeve on long legs—holy fuck, fuck, fuck.
“I deserve it—don't I? A nice load, deep inside,” whimpering, proper quiver in her lip, and a last beg for good measure; loading her ammo, cocking her gun, finger on the trigger, “Can't stop—like that—don't you dare—”
Like you could—”Not going anywhere,” you remind her, holding on to where she's flickering between hard and soft; Tzuyu, hot as fuck all over and even hotter when she cums and tells you—
“Harder—”
Trying to—
“Fuck me—”
You're there—
“Please—please—please—”
She only needs to ask once because her cunt is divine, wrapped around you and leaving you with nowhere to go but up and down, back and forth; fucking her with nothing but terrible, wonderful intention until your hand is under her hip, slapped across her ass, forcing her to change the angle so she goes completely rigid and oh—oh—oh fuck—
“So—gah—good—”
Running straight through it—keep the angle; drive harder. The arch of her spine, lifting herself up, abs peeling off your waist and there's a gap, the opportunity—thumb back on her clit and she's clenching around you in warning pulses.
Thighs locking around your waist, hairline fractures in your hipbones, her body winding up—she's—you can feel her everywhere.
A wet choke, a stunned gasp, cunt swallows, gushes, inks something with her cum down the veins of your cock and she says it in case you miss it—
“Fuck—how the fuck do you make me cum so—”
Hitting her, tearing her apart—long, so loud—like she never stopped, and maybe she hadn't; been on that frequency since you first pushed inside her, and it'd make sense—her pupils at that dreamy sheen, stars in her eyes, shot into the stratosphere on your cock—and yeah, you'll take it, die with it, leap off the truck and declare WITNESS MEEEEE for all to see.
But she's not done. Yeah, she's fucked open and out, but her pussy's got other ideas, and her mind's on the same wavelength.
“Yours,” she says, fierce, needy, petulant; the princess turned brat, a rare, precious occurrence. “Give me yours—all of it—now—please—inside—”
And she keeps demanding, the sounds getting worse and better simultaneously; run out of proper onomatopoeia for her cunt on your cock, inventing brand-new ones to make up for it; her moans are climbing back up to join the fray. Despite it all, despite that she's just cum, she's oversensitive, rattling with it, but still taking it anyway, pulling it from you—gorgeous in every way, every inch, every configuration—what you get when you take Tzuyu from the stage and fuck her this hard and for this long and she clearly does not give a fuck that she's literally crying for your cock and cum and cannot stop—
“I'm begging for you to—”
“I'm here,” and her pussy milks it out of you, twists, pulls, grips—long rolling quivers around you. You're sunken deep into her, can't move, can't do anything but twitch and you don't know when you started but you're kissing her hard, groaning into her throat and following her over.
In the midst of it, cock spasming inside her, detonation on either side of your timeline—was there a before, is there an after? Or is there just this, now; soul leaving your body and flooding this ludicrously tight, hot cunt and—where were you again, what's your fucking name even—do you even care to find out because this gorgeous, unbelievable, unreal girl has got you in the sweetest embrace, lips, arms, pussy and all; clearly working through her own aftershocks, draining every last drop and stray thought out of you, and it goes on and on, and her legs are holding you there and it goes on a little longer.
White—at the edges, her cunt, your vision, it's all the same at this point; just fucking it all into her, stuffing her full, bulging her tight belly with you whole; all of you, all of the future yous too and what do you have to say for yourself:
“Take my fucking cum, Tzu—”
And what does she have in response?
“So much—all mine—God, fill me, please—”
It comes back gradually.
Names, places, details colouring the edges.
Tzuyu—small, floating on air, hovering on your cock, eyes half-lidded, glazed, satisfied; something that leans narcotic. Faint tears tracking down her cheeks, somehow reaching your tongue, or it's her sweat, or yours; but it's just hot and salty and that just about sums up the both of you.
You feel her heartbeat coming down against yours; survey the damage, the mascara that survived an entire concert but couldn't make it past this, the hair that's been reset and tangled and still looks wonderfully her. The corset was left by the mirror. The shorts surrendered somewhere close by.
“Could you ever—” Tzuyu comes to life, first to speak, let you know that she's still with you in the land of the living. “Fuck me normally?”
You laugh. “What's that like?”
“Like, leave me with some dignity.” She shifts; the ooze of cum, the exaggerated pornographic audio that accompanies it as it seeps out around the seal of her perfect plump pussy-lips glued to your cock proves her point.
“Sounds boring.”
“It would leave us with a lot less explaining to do,” she says, and you're already on clean-up duty, thumb to her cheek, wiping away the stragglers there; piece-by-piece, reassembling this demolished dream of a girl.
“To who?”
Tzuyu gives you a look.
“I think we're well past that,” you say, rattling down your list; “Nayeon, definitely. Sana can't say shit after what she got up to in Paris.”
“I know, but—”
“Momo literally fist-bumped me in the hallway and said, See you in Valhalla, brother,” and that has Tzuyu snorting into your neck, adorable, winning, her; still all wet and shaking and in tears from how hard she came.
Another lazy squeeze of her walls around you, habitual milking at this point, and she sighs, repeating, “Valhalla, Christ.”
“Legitimately.”
And she tests her muscles around you again, intentionally this time, and you throb back, and you're steering the car back onto the road now, putting things back on the most obvious paths—”You're going to give me a reputation.”
“It'll look great alongside mine,” you muse, drag your palms up those thighs once more, thumbing the damage, the territory marked and yeah; the stylist, make-up artists, she's gonna get a real talking to. “We can compare notes.”
She adjusts, twists; obscene, and more of your load starts to run, messy, dripping down her folds and onto your lap, waiting to be fucked right back into her; it's an intersection of indecency—pretty, fucked-up, dangerous.
Tzuyu in a nutshell.
Noticing: “You're still hard.”
Noticing back: “You're still sitting on it.”
Rolling her hips once, experimental, having you both groaning, moaning in stereo. She reads your face and knows what's coming next.
“How long do you think before Jeongyeon comes knocking again?” And it's already published by the time you say it—posted, trending, bookmarked—out there to be read and thumbed through—she's giggling all girlish and cute, you're laughing dark and low; she's getting flipped onto her back, pressed into the couch cushions that once had bigger aspirations than this.
Those thighs—again; downright incredible things, run out of words to bless them, just holy fuck do they spread so nicely, automatically falling open, heels in the air, knees hooked high over your shoulders. Tzuyu, Tzuyu, Tzuyu—built to be handled exactly like this.
A look in her eyes, the adoration there, the only lovers left alive of it all, the I'll hold your hand and jump off the cliff with you if you'd just lead me, has you thinking all sorts of romantic shit: I love you, marry me, let's maybe finish up by doing something dumb to make this something permanent.
But the comments are in your head again, so:
“I'm going to die between those thighs.”
Tzuyu cocks an eyebrow, you're just reciting the obvious. “Good.”
“Yeah?”
“I'll sit on your face in the afterlife too.”
“Hell of a way to spend eternity,” and you're already moving, laughing, tongue wrestling her down but there's no need, she was, is, always has been; apparently forever will be even after you're bones and dust—yours.
Hand on her thigh, one last time for good measure, pressing your fingerprints into the give of it, stamping off on a job well fucked, and she has to say: “Baby, you are so, ridiculously—”
Hi, as many of you are aware. https://fanprose.com/ is currently an alternative for this genre of smut and I hope if there's any holdouts here on tumblr, you'll respect my decision in only posting from now on to fanprose exclusively.
you can read this story here: https://fanprose.com/stories/birds-of-paradise/chapters/1
You knock once or twice on the big white door, the kind that promises something beyond a measly, high-end hotel room.
The only thing to get you here in the first place was a text needing no extra thought:
still left me out to dry, i see how it is :// <3 🍑
–
Granted, it's been a few days after the message.
God forbid the efforts to come crawling back to her would make anyone insane for that matter - considering the occasion she was at and the amount of prestige it carried.
The wonders of fashion shows: glamorous in all its might; the kind that would put her on the map.
When that door swings in, she doesn’t really need any further introduction:
“Kept ya waiting?” asks Momo, hand sliding up the frame and flaunting an elbow on her hip. Taking her downtime to the usual standard of Hirai Momo she stunningly owns you know all too well. That trademark head tilt and simple smirk - a small telltale of which you wonder if the sun should’ve stayed along the horizon just a little longer for someone like her.
“Please,” you say, following her in as she walks backwards, eyes trained well on your stature. Attentive- too attentive. As if she wants something. “If I really despised your guts, you’d have a restraining order from me already.”
“Yet here you are,” she replies, letting you fill the opening in front. A familiar proximity you catch yourself in with not just her - but with Dahyun, Sana, Tzuyu, and freaking Jihyo of all people at times. There’s a pattern to be drawn in this. Somehow you haven’t sensed it yet.
“Here I am,” you repeat. And that’s the usual track, unfortunately. From every angle, you’re recalling the recent escapades you’ve done with her. How the lingering thought of omitting any idea of her from your mind was forever the impossibility. You’re keeping it slightly professional with your hands behind your back, the posture upright.
“I’m in a sour mood with you,” Momo then says, swiveling her body into the wider space of the hotel room - a recurring solitude that’s considered one of her many homes. “Hanging me out just because you’re a little scared? What’s Dahyun gonna do? Dismember me?”
“You’ve seen her angry,” you laugh, settling your bearings and sitting on the edge of her bed. “Trust me, I’ve had to do a lot so she wouldn’t kill you instead.”
“So what? It’s not like you’re being put on trial - having a little fun. Get a little scandalous from time to time.”
“Momo-”
She laughs, fingernail to her lip. The neat pink and white robe she’s wearing is molding to her figure. Especially with the “V” neck cut: it does everything to exemplify her tits.
“I’m just saying,” and there’s a hush in her tone, once the space at your lower half is filled by her legs. Again, you’ve seen her build multiple times - more than you would like to count or admit - how the details can be noticed on her waist, her ass, the flawless proportions where you’ve bent and mangled until she’s a mix of an unapologetic, screaming mess begging to be belittled in all the ways you adore and love. Her hands dance on your shoulders, twiddling on the small hairs on your neck. “You’ve got a lot of nerve, coming to me behind your girlfriend’s back. Remind me again: Was it- hm, girlfriend? Fiancé? Or- here I thought you’ve asked the golden question to her-”
“Good things come with time,” you say. To that, Momo rolls her eyes. She’s smirking at the loose sentence - since she knows her word will be more superior to yours.
“You could say the same thing about your cock,” she then says, fiddling with the bow at her middle. “That and your charm- I mean, seriously. I’m jealous of Dahyun sometimes. How she’s managed to keep you all to herself.”
“I could propose that we have an intervention together.” Your expression lights up slightly when you look up, full of Momo’s star-studded, sly gaze, the dreamy lashes she bashes over yours that really shine when she’s glowing in the low lights. The illuminating ambience of yellow and orange mixed in the background. In the late hours of the evening above the busy streets and meeting atop the clouds. “Talk about the many, many issues you and I have going on. One where we draw the line of who gets the final say; one’s word over the others.”
Momo pouts at that, defeated. Or at least that’s what she wants you to think. “Not even gonna let me persuade you into changing your mind?”
“Depends.” You’re lazily holding her ass, probably on purpose. Every move from this point on won’t be managed by your words. Now that your mind is made up and there’s nothing left to say. “What’s in it for me?”
She unties the ribbon of her robe, and lets it fall onto the floor.
There’s a lot of questions as to why you did what you did - why you keep doing it. Why you spend a good amount of your schedule doing the devil’s work with every sin committed enough to place you at the top of his list. She’s partly the reason you’ve been in this position over and over and over. A recurrence of the sweet libations offered by her are an addiction of their own. Her words are one thing. Her body-
(Well, let’s just say that the company knew what they were doing when she flew out to do this gig.)
She’s coated in grey with leopard prints canvasing the fabric. Most of the seams are at the right tightness that forms her silhouette in curves you didn’t think were possible. You note the second layer beneath and a nice contrast of that fluffy pink bra on her chest - where the small gems were neatly placed and the pendant is buried right at her cleavage.
Oh, she’s model material for sure. There’s no denying that. You don’t need to think back on all the brands proffering for her signature. The selling point was pretty much the given factor.
You’re no different than any other person cordially invited to fashion week. With the observing eyes showing and the parted mouth as a plus.
Momo looks the part: the fuckable girl everybody wants.
Though, you’re a cut above the rest, because you’re the only one who knows her well.
(How much she likes it when you fuck her rough, pull her hair back and into the mattress, pin her arms on the wall trying to brace the impact of your cock pushing up her cunt; disregard her for anything else. A personal toy for your own disposal. The late night booty call you’ll always make time for. The girl who’ll match beat for beat at everything you dish out. She knows no matter how hard you try, there’s a piece of you that belongs to her.)
“Well?” asks Momo, wiggling her body in your hands. “Any first impressions?”
“I’ve got a lot on my mind,” you say, enamored, tapping the groove on beneath her bottom by reflex. “Like they really didn’t have to capitalize on your ass like this-”
“Bless the stylists,” she replies, lowering herself slightly so only your eyes are full of her cleavage. “Bonus goes to the cameras for getting the angles right.”
“Now I’m starting to wonder-”
“How could a wonderful girl like me be able to pull off a look like this?” Momo laughs, cradling your head as you breathe her tits in. A terrible habit, but it’s a natural instinct given the features. “I mean- Jihyo fits hers very well. And if you think back to Nayeon’s Louis Vuitton towel-”
“I can go down the list over and over,” you say with a palm between her legs, pressing roughly; she seethes. “Though, I’m off the clock currently.”
“I figured, but-” she chuckles, reaching over for her phone while you observe her movements.
The screen lights up, eyes darting up and down with record pace. A part of you assumes that she’s sending a message to one of the other girls you work with as a way to stir the pot and spice up the competition- maybe. Yet her lip-biting grin is impossible to interpret.
“-thought I might show you this.”
For a better lack of response: you’re just left speechless.
Then, you helplessly look up as she wiggles the phone in her hand, eyes and mouth sharing the same smirk. “Awwww. What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?!”
“I’ve been reduced to staring at this point.”
“As you should,” says Momo, beaming with victory. “Haven’t you been getting my texts?”
“You’re aware of my policy when I’m working: permanently on do not disturb.”
By punishment: Momo lays claim at the scene of the crime with her lips. Normally, she would bend to your will, take her time; usually, that’s not her style, but that soft side is an exclusivity on days where she can let her walls crumble for a rare moment. Her lips are always sweet, carrying the kind of kisses that would sweep anyone off their feet or rewire their brain. Though, there’s a sense of urgency behind this, as if it was something long overdue.
Her arms slither around your neck, straddling your thigh. You hold her close with one arm while the other acts as a support behind you, leaning back.
She smiles into it, taking ownership. You try to utter a response but it’s swallowed down your throat and her fingers claw deep into the scalp. There’s only one way where this was going: one of you is going to be ruined by the other.
Momo pulls your lip - a slight pinch with her teeth, and your hand shoots for her hip as a sign of restraint. Drawing back with lidded eyes; the gentle swipe of her tongue, savoring the taste. The grasp of your fingers doesn’t faze her at all.
“Holding yourself back, are we?” She asks, fanning her breath across your sloping cheek. Ghosting your head while her arms press inward - pushing up her tits. “I thought you were able to handle this-”
“Oh, I’m sure,” says Momo, settling on top of your hips, inhaling sharply as the pressure from the seat of your pants pulls her head back. “God- you’re gonna drive me insane if you don’t get your fucking bottoms off right now-”
You help her arms up, motion them to the straps of her outfit. She lowers the first layer below her tits; that neat, pink push-up bra would leave you ogling for hours if she just had that by itself. Thankfully, she’s got the bodysuit to her waist, ruffling her hair nicely to her shoulders with a lean to the right.
An opening for the next move: kissing her neck. To that, she presses you in while her other hand grasps her left breast, grinding against your hips while the shivers work their way up her body.
“So eager- and forward,” she breathes, airing a laugh. “Fuck, I’m jealous of Dahyun when you touch her the way you’re touching me-”
You bury your nose into her cleavage, lick the beauty mark above her left tit. Looking up earnestly.
Momo holds an expression over you. Intrigue, for one. Teetering deeper into insanity, as another. Seeing her slack mouth is enough to tell you she couldn’t comprehend just how much missing you had been driving her crazy. She winces when you’re happily biting away at her skin.
“Wait.”
The puckering pop of your lips echoes into the walls of the room.
Momo freezes for a second, which isn’t like her. A smirk breaks from the corner of your lip while you stare up, and she gets thrown off by the person hidden deep beneath your eyes.
Gyrating her hips to yours, her mouth twitches. You lick your lip. Anticipating the next move.
“This poor kitty too stunned to speak?” You ask.
The girl in your lap hovers a hand above your face, her thumb tapping your lip. This is the kind of power that women dream of over a man. It’s one of the few moments that rewires brain chemistry for a second. You lick the pad of her thumb and watch as her brows arch in surprise.
“I could never tell if you right now is for show or it’s actually for the things I want you to do to me,” says Momo, eyes trained when her thumb slips between your lips, unable to move from this position. “Jeez. It’s actually like- really bad. How dangerous you can be.”
“It isn’t just me,” you say.
“No I know, but-” and Momo is caught of guard when you’re catching her off guard with the next move: pulling from the neck and getting those perfect lips of her in the right place - where they belong - with more reverence into the feel and every audible smack getting more addicting than the last. Her palm rests on your cheek and your hand slides down the firm line of her back, stopping at the one of the two dimples right above her ass. It’s an unrefined tension, a forsaken oath left unspoken; the mere infidelity of it should be enough to make you single after this. Though, Momo sucks on your lower lip and you’re sure that the pit in your stomach deepens; a cable waiting to snap; when it does, it’ll flare up every nerve end in your body, making the synapses grow more desperate.
“But what?” It’s a taunt, and it’s all certain this girl is going to lose it.
“You’re never easy,” she sighs, in a gruff tone that rolls nicely with her register in all the things sultry and begging for more. Her nails scratch the ends of hair behind your neck. “It hasn’t even been that long since our last meeting and you’re driving me insane.”
Your hand makes its way down her bodysuit in response to her rocking body as her mouth stays to your neck. The fabric’s gotten more damp compared to a few minutes ago, but the friction of your fingers will soon add to that. It’s similar to operating through fog - figuring out where her cute little clit is and when you guess the general area: right above the wetness, you press down and Momo sighs in relief.
“Haven’t even got to the best part yet,” you groan, “and you’re already dripping before this is even off.”
“It isn’t just me,” Momo says in a subtle callback. She lowers the clothing to her waist, revealing that same pink, fluffy bra. Her hand goes back, unclipping it in this well-practiced party trick. You’re left staring again when she pulls it from the middle band and out, letting it fall to the ground. At the same time, your tongue immediately darts for her nipple. “I can tell you’ve been wanting this too-”
With little control she had left, Momo slips your hand inside her body suit in guidance, where your fingertips swipe against her folds, and that makes you notice one thing:
“No panties during the runway performance? Oh you had this planned all along, huh?”
Momo bears no response, a crack in her facade when your mouth stays on her breast and keeps your fingers still to her shifting hips. She’s already gotten you this close away from Dahyun that every second spent with you is an advantage.
Her whole body shivers in pleasure. The only language she can speak at this time is in tongues, mixed with sighs and pants and pleas and more moans.
You’ve got your whole hand between her legs beneath the bodysuit, and how she wished it was your mouth instead, but she’ll be content with just this. These circling fingers and slipping between her folds, her thighs press against yours, longing for that release.
As if she deliberately planned (which is unlikely, but the possibility isn’t entirely out of the question) for you to come all this way to see her. With that cryptic text and that extremely fuckable outfit that the stylists have blessed her in. But you know well that Momo (most of the time) doesn’t think things through. For this instance, you’re convinced that has.
“Please, baby. More-” she begs. And her yelp is a nice noise to her when you bite on her nipple.
“I’m gonna-”
“Mhm?”
“You’re gonna make me fucking cum-”
The desperation rises with her body, only staying with your gravity and grasp on her. Her mind can’t keep up with your efforts. Once the moment of bliss finally strikes through her body, she hardly contains the sensation tearing through her body.
Momo’s cunt quivers as she cums on your fingers, seething a breath between her teeth when the butt of your palm grinds against her sensitive clit. Her forehead rests on the top of yours as she hunches forward, prolonging the orgasm you’ve gifted her.
“Look into my eyes, Momo.” You order. “I wanna see my pretty girl’s face after cumming.”
She lifts her head- slightly. Oh, you know she’ll listen to the praise when she deserves it. This girl heaving and parting her mouth low as she feels your fingers slip inside for more fun. Momo’s quick to get her arms wrapped around your head, suffocating you with her tits. Not that you’re complaining, of course. But her weight might tip you over if you get caught in the moment.
Then, you noticed she hasn’t complied with the instruction. Which earned her a slap to her thigh, and her skin newly marked red.
“Does my slut have to be told what to do again?” You tell her, harshly kissing her neck and leaving an obvious bruise with your teeth.
Momo, as eager to inflate that being shrouded deep in your mind, nursing that ego. She listens.
There’s this state of elation that’s experienced with her, how much control you’re willing to give her with cuffs around your wrists, only to switch it around and have a makeshift bind made with your belt with her hands behind her back as you pound her into the mattress. Or, slapping her face with fingers wrapped to her neck. It can get raw, then sensitive: she’s a walking sex magnet and it wouldn’t take much for you to bury your cock deep into her wanting, open cunt in the exact way she wants you to.
There’s a keepsake in that regard. As fucked up as it may be.
That street goes both ways.
“Baby- mmmm, fuck.” A rasping Momo breathes, trying to stay composed as you mark up her neck. Lathering up a layer of spit on her porcelain skin, mixed with the blemishes of reddish pink spread across her chest. “I can’t wait anymore.”
“Use your words, bun,” you play into the exchange, hushing her with another assault of love-bitten kisses.
She cups your face, biting her lower lip. You see her eyes flick back to the head of the bed. For a second, you’d want to follow her words - her orders - but you’re reminded: she made you come to her. Now she has to work for her long awaited reward.
“I thought you were capable of using your mouth to speak, hon.” You taunt, lightly grabbing her chin and pulling her closer. “Unless you’re trying to use that mouth for something else.”
“Yes. Yes,” answers a needy Momo. “If you let me- I can only say please-”
“Then get on the bed.” Is what you tell her.
You’ve never seen Momo’s eyes light up with so much excitement before. Then again, you’ve caught that same spark in many moments: like the first time she lured you away from Dahyun and had you moaning her name not long after. It should’ve been the last time, too. Then, it started to turn into a pastime.
She shifts from your lap to the front of the bed. Each movement of her arms and legs, so meticulous and fluid which fit her dancing appearance. Resting nicely on her stomach and head perched to her elbows. The back of her bodysuit is in view from above, and it highlights her ass exceptionally. You can’t help but stare again.
“Someone’s been waiting.”
“Can’t you tell?” Momo asks, sticking her tongue out. “It was all I could think about earlier.”
“Uh huh.”
“I’m serious!” She exclaims, leaning forward and burying her nose against the fly, inhaling. “Besides, you were getting hard while I was grinding earlier. And god I can even catch the smell. Your pants aren’t even off yet.”
“Mind giving me a hand, sweetheart?”
Momo, dutiful as ever, reaches for the seat of your pants as you get your hands to the belt buckle. Like a practiced duet between two performers: she’s got your zipper between her teeth and her shimmering eyes can be seen in the dimmed hotel lights.
One layer, then the next. You keep your hands to Momo’s as she bites your waistband and pulls it down after. With your cock springing out to her cheek, brushing the tip of her nose to the underside and lowering her eyelids as she lets her face get the feel for it.
“Finally,” she breathes, thoroughly examining the length. Her personal (and favorite) toy. You can recount the number of stories she’s told you, fantasizing how much you wreck her with this one ‘charm’. It’s too known; all too well.
The tip of her tongue sweeps the base, and you feel those plump lips kiss a vein. On varying occasions, Momo would get right into it, forcing your cock deep into her throat and letting you fill that hole for your own pleasure. Though tonight, she wanted to savor what she’d been missing out on for the past couple weeks. Despite being the unlikeliest characteristic, Momo takes you by surprise again and again.
Her lips and tongue only spare you a mere second or two before they’re back on the skin of your shaft. Coating it with her spit and getting you wanting for more.
Soon, she’s got the lovely duo of her finger and thumb, barely wrapping the root. You let go of her other hand and she cradles your balls. Heavy, you hear her say, but most of it is muffled as she presses a nose right at the middle ridge.
God, it’s an act in reverence. Your knees buckle at the weight of her touch. She eggs on with the teasing: only slipping the head of your cock between those thick, pouty lips and letting the tip of her tongue slash the underside that straightens the length on reflex. Momo’s edged you like this before, in a litmus test of sorts. Always wanting to try new things and each and every single of them has nearly killed you (and her both) in the process.
“Momo-” you slip, palming her cheek as she sucks harshly on the underline. “We’ll be here all night if you keep this up.”
“That’s the plan,” she laughs, grazing her teeth with that damned smile. Legimately: fuck her. And you will. “Just wanted to show you how much I missed my toy.”
“You’ve got a problem.”
The girl at your cock spits on it. “Could say the same thing to you.”
You hold her jaw, guiding the cock with her hand attached to the right angle. “Shh,” you coo, biting your lip because the mere thought of holding back would only make it worse. “Be a good girl and open up for me.” At this point, Momo makes a gaze when she looks up, and it’s a similar gaze that she has for concept teasers: the blown-out-smoky-eyes kind of expression, like she’s aware of the effect she has on people. The ungodly things that they would do to get a girl like her in this position. Here’s the worst part of it all: she’s right between your legs and fingertips, and she smirks. Lowering her jaw - and only her jaw.
Slotting your cock into her slack mouth is utter perfection. The girl gags for a second; expected, and you adjust with a slight pull back out. Adjusting her head, she sleeves your cock into her throat again, and it’s effortless.
Her hands are back to the sides of your thighs, nose to your groin. The sound she emits from her vocal chords onto your cock is heavenly. A struggle of breath mixed with a cough, which only led to soaking the length more with spit.
You watch her take her time getting used to your length. Holding your breath, flexing the muscles in your stomach. She wants to make sure the tip of your cock is tucked into the deepest part of her mouth, to the point where the rest of the room fades toward blackness, and Momo’s head is the only thing you see in your blurred vision. Yet she looks up, dragging your tip against the inside of her cheek and it’s an image you want to treasure forever.
Bless this girl and her practice; the gag-reflex is practically nonexistent. Sliding you out of her mouth before she finally lets her mouth do the rest of the work.
She hums when your fingers comb her hair in purchase, adding the bonus of gripping where you know her preferred tension. A heavy sigh passes your lips when her tongue sweeps the underside, right where the flick meets the tip of your balls. “My god, Momo. Fuck- just like that,” you rasp, barely keeping it together as your hips buck forward.
Momo gasps for air, taking your shaft and slapping the weeping tip across her wet lips. “Hmm I know you’ve been missing this too. I just can’t help it. You have the greatest cock I have ever seen.”
Cradling her head, she takes care of the rest as she holds you back in her salivating mouth. If the heat was already this good. You could start to imagine how it would feel to be wrapped around her walls in the next few minutes. But for now, the tension and release of her throat contracting and her clenching tongue is good enough. The woman’s brows knead in determination, focused on massaging your cock in the back of her throat.
The only thing that’s keeping you standing is the foot of the bed against your knees. Makes you stand against the tide of Momo’s perfect mouth. She’s having all the fun in the world, keeping her lips where you want them to be and ruining you from the inside out. It’s a practiced rhythm, and you’re palming her neck and cheek; feel the graze of her nose to your waist in a seamless motion.
“Good slut,” you hiss, keeping her head in after there’s an audible click in her throat. There’s that tongue again, flicking in all the ways you love and like.
“Mmfmhf.”
Momo taps your thighs, granting her the ability to breathe again. A thread of spit forms from your tip connecting to her upper lip. She licks it off along with your soaked cock. You discard your blazer and the rest of your dress shirt underneath, toss it off aside for her to wear once all of this is over.
“You’re not done yet, are you-”
She shuts you up with her throat begging for more, burying your cock once more and gripping your thighs ferociously. You hear her mumble a sentence of sorts along the lines of ‘i’m not letting you relax just yet’ but all could be heard is the sloppy suck-licked mixture of her lips and tongue, moaning over your length that spikes the nerves in your muscles.
“Mo-” you barely get out of saying, but Momo mumbles a ‘mhm’ instead and she’s nearly getting you there. “Your fucking mouth, I swear to god-”
The hums and slurps only get louder.
She might just siphon the fun out of this if she doesn’t stop.
And the worst part of it all?
She keeps going.
You grip her jaw and drag yourself out of her face. In doing so, you huff at the graze of her teeth, resisting the slip out to the best of her ability. She loses; you twitch as the tip hits the pad of her tongue and bottom lip, and she smirks.
Her head lowers right beneath your cock. Fixated on the bead of precum peaking at the slit. You see her eyes cross, and she doesn’t stop smiling at the sight of it. Licking it clean off as a small appetizer for her (eventual) hard-earned reward.
“You taste good,” she praises, and you stop her from treating her mouth to your balls.
“I’m done going by your way,” you tell her, patting her cheek to which she bites her lip at the feeling.
“Party pooper. You were enjoying it. I saw your face. How much you missed my filthy mouth.”
“That fucking mouth of yours will kill someone if you don’t control yourself.”
“Why would I have control in the first place?” Momo asks, closely matching your height as she brings herself to her knees on the mattress. “I’d rather have no restraint if it brings out the best in people, no?”
You clutch her neck again, and her hand clasps your wrist. Keeping it there. “You’ve got a fucked up sense of character.”
“Sana calls you ‘daddy’ from time to time,” she replies. “Do you want me to start calling you that as well? Or what are you gonna do about it?”
Momo brings her face closer to yours, just inches away from your lips. Your hand is still attached to her throat. The proximity can lead to another kiss, and it almost gets there - almost. But you push her back to the bed, tug the makeshift leash which is one of her legs, turn her around so her backside is now to your hips. That remarkable ass is all you want to see and hold for days.
“I think I know what I have to do to knock some sense into you,” you say, feeling out the fabric of her bodysuit, stopping at a spot right close to where her seeping cunt resides. She seethes at the feeling of your fingernails finding a hold in the ridges, yelping at the tear of threads that reveal another hole for you to fill.
But it’s met with another surprise-
“C’mon Momo,” you chuckle in disbelief, not because of the image that’s in your eyes, but the fact that she would be the kind of person that would go to such lengths to do it. “You’re telling me you had a buttplug up your ass during the entire performance?”
While you’re trying to come to grips with the sight of her perfect, pretty pink cunt, it’s highlighted with an obvious object protruding Momo’s ass cheeks right above it ; shining with a glossy metallic finish, but it’s Momo-ified to her standards: molded into a heart with her member color of dark pink.
Gratuitously fucked up, could be the best way to describe this girl.
“I wanted to try it out,” Momo responds, wiggling her ass in front of your cock. Her back arches deep as her arms splay flat on the covers. “Nayeon made a bet with me and I lost. That was punishment.” She looks over her shoulder and flicks her hips up and down. A tease that goes on endlessly. “I can see the gears turning in your head, lover boy.”
You puff your cheeks and pull a flat-lipped expression.
“I was gonna keep sending you pictures to spite you. Because you never see them, anyway. Dahyun has you wrapped around her finger as it is.”
“Well then,” you say as you take a knee, eyes full of Momo’s hands on her ass, spreading her plugged pucker and cunt. It’s a gratifying art to admire. The girls you oversee - each of the nine bringing their own charm to the table, masterfully created and tilting your head in angles where your neck might break through all of the melting. She shifts her hips side to side with your fingers attached - you never want to let go. “Consider you have my full attention.”
“Then what are you waiting for-” she spits midway when your tongue gets that first, satisfying lick of her folds. “Ugh. Fucking finally.”
The mere thought of Momo in this state is pure debauchery. None of that could be exemplified with every lap your mouth makes to her sweet pussy. Like she’s a forbidden apple in the Garden of Eden and you can’t help but submit to that low saccharine tone she speaks in: praising and moaning one moment, cursing your being the next if she doesn’t get what she wants.
“For the record,” you're breathing hot over her cunt, biting one of her folds as another taunt. “You rode my face the last time you had a fashion schedule.”
Momo rolls her head around, planted to the comforter. “Yeah, and I had your cock in my hand as a punishment. What about it?”
Your nose fills the space, and the tip of your tongue messes with her clit. She curses again, loudly. Her attitude unravels more and more by the second. It could be enough, but it isn’t.
“How many more times can you say ‘fuck’ in a single sitting, hm? Think you can hold it together while I split you apart?”
“Oh please.” She looks over her shoulder; the curve on her spine only curls further. “I don’t need to answer that for you.”
Right when she tries to rise from the bed, you’re quick to push her back down; take the reins in her hair, and pull. Momo’s eyes flutter in surprise, but it can be easily read that it’s all an act of what she expected of you.
“What does my perfect whore want from me?”
“To bend me over-” followed by an audible slap on her ass, where the first mark of red forms. “And fuck me- fuck me full, again and again. Make me your cumdump and mess up this pretty pussy with your cock.”
God.
God help you.
God help her.
Everything about her is a calling you fail to ignore.
You rest the head of your cock underneath her weeping entrance. She’s close, so close. The restraint is eating away at both of you for holding back still.
Until you carefully weather the worry away, pushing your tip past that first press of her folds. Watching the line of her shoulders tense even tighter at the first thrust. Drag back for good measure, get your bare length wet and ready with her slick, and push harder the second time around.
“Fuck!”
“My god,” you breathe, angle her ass higher at the press of her beck. “Tight.”
Momo’s body follows on its own accord, her walls clenching tight around your shaft. You make do by spreading her legs wider, perch the hips at an angle where you can rut your cock in the deepest part of her cunt; figure out the precision first, then let it be sloppy after. The one-two combo of her ass and pussy will make up for the slack when your brain’s been reduced to mush and all there is to focus on is pounding her enough for the other guests to hear.
You lean forward, let your cock push itself to the hilt by her entrance, reach for her tit and pull.
But the slide out is just as rewarding as thrusting back in. Every pleasurable inch almost makes you think twice on whether you want to take away this sensation from her.
“Baby - ‘swear to god- fuck-”
She shudders when your tip is nestled right between her puffy folds, gasping. Her whole ass wobbles. It’s incredible.
“Atta girl,” you croon. Kissing the line of her back - everything else is blurry but she’s giving you the only lifeline you’ll ever need.
There’s a moment of pride when you push back in again, hard. Momo’s head flicks back in whiplash. Writhing in the feeling a bit considering how long it’s been since she last took your cock, but it’ll come to grips sooner than you think - you know that much.
Every impact you dish out is rebounded well with Momo’s bouncing pair of her cunt and ass moving in a staggered combo: her ass to your hips with her pussy following the next second. You hear her swallow more air as an attempt to shelter the moan rumbling in her throat, but it’s pointless. The anchor your hands have to her hips, resting in the groove where the tops of her thighs meet keeps you in place - a press that pushes her deeper into the mattress beneath. A maneuver that is perfected when Momo’s face is looking down, and her ass is offered up to you; grazing her walls to that sweet spot where the nerves throb a little more roughly.
“Can’t- can’t. ‘m gonna- fucking- sweetie-”
“I’ve got you. I’m here,” you mouth into her shoulder blade. There’s only one thing she wanted you to do: to use her. A far cry in the form of a cryptic message and all you could think about was her immaculate figure and curves flaunted for everyone to see, but she’s yours. Oh, she’s so yours.
Your hand can only support you so much, so the next option to resort on is hooking to her waist, listening to the thick groan when the angle doesn’t change and you’re still rucking that sweet spot where you’ve figuratively killed her over and over. Her knees are about to give too; the press of her ass on your cock makes you throb harder.
Momo’s hand reaches for your neck, sobbing. There’s a laugh mixed into that as well. You can tell her eyes are closed and mind is blown, fucked.
“Like this,” she says, gritting her teeth when you suddenly slow the pace, give her these singular thrusts of your hips: (not) nice and slow. “Fucking use my pussy like this.”
“Yeah? Is this what you wanted?” You manage, caught off guard as her body twists, kissing your lips. “Do you realize how good you look when you’re like that?”
She goes limp, panting. You grind your cock against her walls slowly still; hands canvasing her back and waist, feeling out those same curves you’d want to kiss and lick until she tells you to stop. Then Momo mumbles into the duvet, “i know you love how my pussy takes your cock,” and all you give her is a sigh of disbelief.
You stop your movements as Momo does the work for you, pushing her ass back to your groin and overachieving with a similar wiggle from earlier. The next best thing you can get around by is cupping the swell of her ass, have the skin ripple before you meet her halfway and fuck upwards, watching your cock get coated with her essence even more.
“It’s so fucking thick inside me- jeez.” Momo grits, and every curse she spits is more punctual than the last. “My perfect pussy good enough for you, pretty boy?”
“That fucking mouth of yours,” you spit and your voice is coarse. Matching Momo’s antics.
“Then fuck me more,” she tells you, lips slipping against your cheek. The skin contact is way past electric - getting more and more desperate. “Want you to own this cunt - ‘cause it’s all yours.”
“You have no idea,” and this comes after you bury your dick in the hottest part inside her, make her body stiffen and you’re pushing her further into the mattress. “How absurd you are- this fuckhole, Momo. My god-”
At this point, the front of her body is flushed with the comforter, pinning. An angle where the pressure around your shaft is just at the right level where every slip and drag back would be enough to drop a load inside - it’ll happen, but you struggle to believe how much she clenches even tighter.
“Baby,” breathes Momo. There isn’t much she can do in this position, feeling her cunt full of your cock.
Frankly, she just has to lay there like a good slut. You’re telling her this as the pace gets more primal, reduced to a pure instinct. Momo’s eyes meet yours for a quick second: blown out and past the threshold of the first of many orgasms you’ve fucked her through.
Only to watch her hide and muffle her voice into the pillow. This version of Momo is where you like her best. Belittled and disregarded as a pure vessel of pleasure. Get off with her holes and claim her for the night before reality sets in come the next daylight.
Her moans and sighs clash inconsistently. Your hand flushes with hers as it grips the covers. “So good; so fucking good - I can’t believe this cock isn’t even mine. What the fuck - you selfish motherfucker. Fucking me like you mean it because it’s too addicting to forget-”
Well, yes.
She’s right.
“My lovely doll getting her pussy stretched out? Cute.” And your mind is trailing to a knife’s edge, watch as a layer of white forms on the top of your cock. Giving you more finesse into the slip in and out in one continuous flow. “You’re just saying nonsense, hun.”
“Please- please-”
She’s beyond savoring the feeling. The only reason you’re here in the first place was to get her off. Yet that sword is piercing her as it is the same for you.
“Breathe for me, Mo,” you murmur, licking her ear. “Lemme fuck this cunt for you, okay? Relax.”
Momo’s hand places yours to her face, sucking on a finger to satiate her heaving exhales. Her mouth parts with the tilt up and hook to her neck. “Need you, need your cum. Please, baby. It’s yours. So yours. This fucking cunt is all yours.”
“Yeah?”
“Want you to burst,” she sputters. On the precipice of falling off that edge even more.
Suddenly, you stare at Momo’s back as the rest of her body tenses, reaching that high. The shrieks she makes aren't like her, but that’s all credit to your hard work. You notice the buttplug again, just right in the middle where it covers her puckered asshole, blocking it. She tenses even more when you press on it, and her whole figure just spazzes out of control.
“Fu-fuck! Right there! Right there, right there, right there-”
“Where should I-”
Momo grabs your arm as her cunt’s bottomed out; the flex of your embedded cock could only prolong the release as much as it could, and the seized muscles in your hips and legs keeps you still. “Inside,” she whispers, “nowhere else.”
But-
You have other ideas.
In a fast act, you pull the buttplug out of Momo’s ass. Her hole swollen and opened up well once it was deprived of metal bead that she’s been hiding. You pull your cock and aim it at the spot above; the first rope going through and the second immediately after. Part of your brain short-circuts and snaps back into consciousness as your load gets pumped into her uncovered asshole.
“Oh my god,” Momo gasps in pure disbelief, biting her lip and humming at the threads of white being plastered in her asscheeks. “You dirty fucking boy,” she says coyly.
You gaze on her face and watch the flush of pink come back to her, then fixated on the sudden wave of heat all over the head of your cock, trying to stay the course in each sinking inch as Momo’s ass takes in all the length. You’re leaking white from the tip still, and it’s equally cruel when you’re spreading her pussy lips below and circling it to overstimulate.
“Fuck- Momo. Your ass - holy shit.”
“Can’t help yourself to gape me,” she shudders. “Fucking your cum into my perfect little ass; never wanting to pull out?”
But your brain can only handle so much of the new sensations to your nerves. Your cock is bathed in white, vanished into the lovely canvas of Momo’s irresistible ass. When you eventually slip your cock out of her ass (and press into her folds for good measure), your eyes kind of just- stay there as the first glob leaks out of her cheeks, dripping onto the covers.
Momo lays there, zoning out as you fall right next to her on the bed, fingers grazing the tip of her chin. “You - have got serious issues.”
She laughs at you. “Yeah, but what else is new?” Kissing one of your knuckles - maybe two. You’ve got a thumb to her plump lips and there isn’t really anything else left to say about it. “I don’t mean what I say when you’re railing me from behind.”
“Slut,” is what you end with.
“Oh but you love me.”
–
(In standard Momo fashion:
You’re hiding a smile when she pushes you out of the hotel room. Staring at your disheveled hair and rumpled dress shirt with your blazer hung to your shoulder. She didn’t even bother tying up that robe, and the tits and waist are like another pair of eyes lasering you as well.
“What if someone sees you like that?”
“What if they see us?” Momo huffs, unimpressed. “That article is gonna burn one of our careers and it is for damn sure it isn’t yours.”
Looking around, there’s no one to be seen down the long winding hallway. “Be lucky that no one’s watching.”
“Don’t fucking jinx it?”
“Only saying it if you want to see me again.”
Momo, being Momo, walks out on her tiptoes. She’s good at faking the part of being the calm-hearted, pretty girl where you know it’s completely the opposite. You’ve told her many times. Everyone’s told her the exact same thing - though she does it anyway.
She lifts herself up to kiss your lips. No need for her nor your hands as they’re bound to your back, since she’s got that natural rule to always be gravitated by you.
“I could’ve sworn I sent you flowers before the show, no?”
The girl pouts, humming a long tone. “I’m just messing with you. Of course we did.”
“Just making sure,” you smile.
Momo goes for one more kiss - because she can’t help herself. “I’ll see you soon, okay?”
You nod, because the assurance is more sobering than the guilt. Even with the girl who has the biggest doe eyes you’ve ever laid on, she still manages to create some sort of lifeline:
“Thanks for coming over. And-” right as she steps back into the room for the night, there’s a pause with her hand on the door. As if there was something holding her back. To which she says:
There’s no flaw to this: attempting to dance with Anna yet again.
She says you’re getting better, beaming her smile and acting as if all of this wasn’t a ruse to shield the burgeoning urge to touch each other beneath the underlying veneer of romanticism.
The term ‘Romanticism’ might be a stretch in itself - at least you seem to believe so; who knows, you’re enamored in the classics - the art it presents.
It’s another subject you want to learn more about.
–
“Ready?” Anna asks you, anticipatory.
You nod in compliance; the routine finally begins:
First step: your right foot goes forward, Anna’s goes backwards - she’s one to seek first when you least expect it, falling under introspection-
Step two: left foot goes to the side - Anna, like always, is adamant to introduce a new concept to you she discovers-
Step three: right foot follows same pathing as the left - it’s something new (plausible), plus it’s something you’ll find intriguing (perhaps), and lastly I appreciate you trusting my ideas, a lot-
Step four: left foot backwards, and Anna’s foot does your pathing now - and it adds the suggestion of how she paints these expressions - these stepping stones into her heart-
Step five: right foot goes to the side - and you’re feeding into the curiosity because of the wanting to go beyond the nearness of each other-
Final step: left foot trails behind - then suddenly, once the tension’s thickened to a point where it’s nearly suffocating, inches away from closing the space; you break away from kissing her, and the loop repeats-
Like a neverending record - going on forever and ever; which in itself, is also a dance. You dance with Anna hoping to have the waltz embedded into the learning algorithm. Hope to eclipse the feelings, dangerously calculated to an eventual outcome. Before the new mission parameters were delivered, you browsed through Anna’s tarot cards since most of the checks were already completed by then. Diagnostics and readings were leveled; other amenities were stored properly. You’re coworkers, crewmates, two beings longing for warmth. Your reflection doesn’t see you any different.
You remember the first time Anna offered to dance. Ignorant and dismissive aside, you couldn’t bring yourself to match her gaze. And it’s not often that you would dilute time into anything else outside of protocol, for one thing.
At times, Anna would wander in the ship with her mind clouded with slumber and darkness, wearing her fleet’s blazer or some dusty jacket over her sleepwear - considering the Primrose was cold, and (as you’ve deduced) the nights were colder. It’s especially a rarity to see Anna’s bare shoulders, let alone the chapped lips up close and in detail, or question the thought that it's worrying to study her in a more intimate appearance.
She’s not an object subjected for your pleasure. You know this well enough, and it’s all the more reason to not delve beyond that conclusion.
You’ve exceeded in doing so. Countless cycles lost in the vastness of space until you felt her tongue clash against yours. Mistakes like that are what makes us human.
Passionate. Engulfing. It had those two characteristics and so much more. Why wouldn’t it have more? It’s easy to notice in the exchanges you two share: explain to me how we get ahead of ourselves is one of the many caveats she presents, and soon your composure warbles away from common sense and nothing seems to compute. You have a hard time picking up the semantics and decoding because some of the terms are indiscernible, trying to process and understand. Another slow waltz, maybe. Don’t hide. It’s futile to try. Kiss me.
Once everything eases, and the sweat subsides on the shores of skin faded into the covers of her bed. Your mouth slacks, frozen. Anna’s paintings: with a boat and two figures sitting inside, on the endless ocean, give a close interpretation of the threshold waiting to be passed - the Primrose’s mission, to be exact.
Though Anna’s paintings are her stories - her soul, and you’ve looked there rather than her eyes. Found desperation and desire to escape. Left her quarters riddled with in her taste, and stare deep into the reflection of the mirror and feel the sticky gloss on your cheek.
You’ve processed (and stabilized) the state of elation. Straying away from comfort you deemed as ‘unstable’. Though some aspects were appropriate, change was always an incalculable factor, therefore: unstable. States on the brink of war and terror were unstable. Unstable synapses firing in your brain seeing Anna’s nightgown in its sheer appearance. You have trouble computing the idea of her - how you want her, and quite literally: all of her.
-
(Here’s what you did since the kiss: going through the log of reports and requests that were for her eyes only. Countless days and hours in the mission and Anna’s been far removed in being professional (and luckily, it’s just you and the computer receiving these messages):
> status report, Anna Tanaka, quoting on the screen: "unfortunately ive decided to not care and will not read the attachments sent to me.”
> service inquiry, Anna Tanaka, about the sudden drop in oxygen levels, quoting: “so what if i don’t breathe, one of us will be alive anyway.”
> mission advisory, Anna Tanaka, at approximately 00:00 hours, quoting: “what if we just steer this fucking ship off into the burning sun representing our love, huh?”
You are both idiots. As Anna would allegedly claim.)
–
Thankfully, you’ve disciplined yourself in running through the usual checks, rather than acting like you don’t know what’s going on.
In your discovery, this would’ve been the perfect time to do that order from a few megacycles ago: get in the spacesuit and fix that shitty panel that kept blinking on the monitor while getting tangled with the cable while laughing with Anna about how dense you were about your emotions; say a shitty comeback about Anna’s bedside manner and justify the warning was from a few scrapes of damage left by the small debris when traveling through the rings of Indiga (eloquently summarized in your readings back to mission control): “we had to adjust our course to help compensate for the trajectory of the planet’s ring pathway.”
Once that was done, now you could debug the Primrose’s balance from the cockpit. No way to tell when you might make landfall at the next world nearby. What might happen when Anna steps off the ramp without any protective gear on; finds out the ground is incredibly toxic, and melt right off the face of the planet.
–
Anna insisted on going outside, but you rejected the suggestion and took her place instead.
Venturing into an atmosphere mixing the pressurized gas of the decompression chamber - the sub-zero temperatures acting as a good barrier to start in creating space. New objective: distance yourself ; keep focus and all thoughts rational.
You wander and think while crossing the icky, green fog blending into the hills.
In doing so, you helplessly think about her.
–
When you return. She’s wearing the same nightgown from before.
“You’re back!’ Standing in the middle of the sliding door watching you dust off the collective dirt on your arms. “Do you wanna practice dancing again?”
Twisting your gaze, she leans forward, the strap skating off her shoulder. It’s a brief moment in the dialogue - the one running through your head, frozen at the request. “I think you got it this time.” Anna’s so willing - I know, I’m overbearing, letting you do these things out of tempo as we’re kissing, so please- I beg- and she’s frightfully intentful in making it worse.
Intentful for one thing, yet thrilling for someone like her to be ambitious - making you fold in a game of poker while she held her hand (a pair when you bought her bluff), and it’s simple to deduce all other hypotheticals as well. She’s a bug in your line of code, manifested to to defy all rational calculations. How she easily reads what you tell - even more horrifying to be solved and understood.
She makes you feel like a human being; help defy your maker that much more difficult.
–
So, again-
You’re dancing with her. She praises the improvement, humming. You’re not stepping on her feet as much compared to the first time. Every step and move is carried with precision, sometimes hazy and fritzing the logic; falter one motion, and your hand slides lower to the divots on her back.
“I still have trouble understanding,” you tell her, “The significance of dancing on Toyama.”
Anna slots herself at your arms and middle, blinking. She doesn’t say anything to answer, going through the steps, saying, “it’s an intimate connection with the person you like.”
Swaying left, then right, your feet do the same. Her skin touching feels electric. “Somewhat answers my question,” you drawl, hesitant, “doesn’t help the prolonged eye contact, though.”
“Like what you see?”
“I’d prefer to consider it uncouth.”
Anna shelters her smile. “Here I thought wearing this gown would get you more curious.”
Your foot skates forward on accident. Faltering. Stumbling. This dance, you presume, isn’t entirely subtle - the same could be said for coming up with a lousy alibi, too - but it would be extremely unordinary for either of you to take the long way ‘round in the space with each other. Any flash of impatience simply taints the comforting moments, and you’re not willing to try.
“You still believe I’m not bad news for you?” She asks, pressing closer; your hand holding hers and the warmth so close. A finger brushes her cheek and the touch sensitive, makes you wonder about the adversities her mind and figure has gone through to get to this moment. I could’ve fucked you off if I wanted to, she probably would’ve said, the weight frugal and heavy in her words. You blank out and don’t actually answer, which leads to Anna lecturing another lesson: “In Toyama,” she starts, “dancing has a very special meaning, one that transcends beyond connections. It’s dangerous to the point that the practice had to be prohibited by the nation.”
Though you shake your head at that. The State didn’t have a say in this setting at all. You ponder and get inquisitive. “Why would it pose a threat in the first place?”
“Unity,” answers Anna. “With dance-” lifted into a spin and your raised arm, and the surroundings start to blur in your optics, “it’s not just the bodies joining as one. Your hearts, too. Linking that forms a bond, and binds all of us together. Yet the State seems to think otherwise.”
“Destabilization and discord, yes?”
“Not exactly. I was thinking more of being- intimate,” she chuckles. “Think of it as dissension and intimacy going up against facism. We’d be probed by others because it’s so foreign.”
Here your feet and hers start to mirror. Then the thought of being intimate creeps into your mind, how your build isn’t meant for it - the design is flawed - you can’t help but feel automatically dejected because of it. Being curious about yourself has left you so disappointed that it can’t even be self-pleasure let alone masturbation. Your body is desperately wanting to be something more than just an object at rest - something more, something that can not be at rest.
Tilting your gaze, Anna reflects. “Maybe the Higher One is seething at us making the most of this journey,” you smirk.
“I believe so. They can’t relate to us,” she says. “We’re impossible to punish, and willing to defy; every step in dance is just a symbiosis of angling the bodies together, counting and feeling the music-”
“There you go again, Anna. God, you really can’t help yourself.” You huff, which rewards a hearty laugh out of her.
“What?! Did you hear what you just said?” You notice the twinkle in her brown eyes when she knows she’s unbearably bewitching. “I’ve been teaching you the wrong thing - do you see your feet? Why are they matching mine? They’re both the same?”
“I find the humor to be confusing, still.”
“You’re still stuttering behind me, and listening to my terrible rendition of reciting literature,” says Anna. “I find you to be adorable and want to show my affection by never losing you.”
You agree. Of course I don’t want you to let go of me, but the physical aspect of your body and hands meeting hers is still a work in progress. Which can also be noticed in being gullible to her antics and the ugly handwriting of practicing Kanji she wanted you to try every now and then.
“The letters change the whole meaning of the word,” you say. “Now I know there’s a difference between ‘go’ and ‘ko’ depending on the context.”
Anna’s laugh fills your ears. “I commend you for the effort.” Her heels are above the floor with a chaste kiss to your lips - deliberate, but full of life, she could’ve worn a different garment without being aware of shifting fabric morphing to her figure. It’s that, and how she would’ve done a different activity rather than dancing without welcoming the risk. You try your best to guess her next move before she makes it, which ends up failing every single time.
At the corner of your eyes: memories of a time long past, the blend of thick and thin lines tearing like a faulty television screen. Flickers, you’ve deduced. Visions of a love finally found - a love finally complete.
One step to the side, then back. Your frame bends to her will and you wished it was the ship’s hull instead, because it was pointless to compute. For someone that isn’t really you - it can be discouraging as a clone-
To hell with all of that.
“Do that again,” Anna instructs, requesting a spin.
And you comply.
Her dress slithers off at the shoulders, uncovering skin healed from scratches and bite marks. Holding back was an option you deeply thought about, and might’ve been the right choice the other night. You did hold back and restrain from doing any more damage, but the urge can easily break like glass, and things like that are meant to be destroyed.
The first spin request flows her hair so nicely, and you repeat the same move because it’s enjoyable. Because she’s beautiful. And because this moment might be captured in this floating time capsule across space. Her firm body against fragile threads; the move slips the strap down to her arm. Anna giggles. Tugs it back with two fingers onto her collar.
Aw. You see her eyes dart at the porcelain skin. I meant to do that.
You pull her close. Raise her left hand to your right. “You’re not fooling anyone,” she announces flatly.
“What?”
Anna’s eyes squint, “Staring at what happened. I saw that,” it’s a careless praise.
“Why yes,” you nod proudly. Explaining isn’t a thought when you’re deeply influenced (and to her eyes, she finds you cuter like this). Being irrational is also against your logic, but it’s really nothing but these ideas: pinning Anna to the wall behind you and kissing her, or getting her on your lap (to kiss her) before she drops to her knees (and spreading your legs); the simplicity of yielding to addictive temptation fueled by her intentions, strip her singular garment and watch as the color blossoms on her skin.
It’s all leveled. You’re swaying one side of the room with her. Left foot out, right foot follows. Right foot out, left foot follows. Continuously. There isn’t a reason for you to keep your mouth closed around her, and soon you feel your voice tightening with one end grasping to rational thought, as the other tied between Anna’s fingers.
She sees it in your face; the lump forms in the throat. “Having fun, my love? Happy?”
“Very,” you say. Grinning, drunk on her uplifting gaze. “Not sure how much I can keep myself together.”
Being honest can also be a mistake, too.
To that, Anna smiles: she knows, and it’s horrifying. “Because you want me,” she deduces, guiding your arms down to her hips. You hold them there. It’s awfully cute how she has to get on her tiptoes to try to whisper. “The tension’s rising higher between us, yes?”
“It’s because,” you sigh, “you’re incapable of persuading.”
Your name rings through your ears, every tap of her fingertips is a new surge of electricity. Soon her palm is on your cheek; you keep staring down. “Hey, hey- my eyes are here.”
The fine beauty is all in the details: the gentle blush canvased across her cheeks, the humble glow on her chest; with the cool air running through the hull, her nipples poke through the nightgown. Behind those pretty lashes and eyes is a constellation that’s gentle and inviting. The real fine beauty above everything is the balance of arousing need she exudes that seems to match, well- yours.
Anna taps your cheekbone, giggling. “It’s impressive that you’re failing to realize the effect I have on you.” She makes you feel small - not in fear, but in the rush of reality. “Your gambit rarely succeeds in holding up to mine; with my desires, at least.”
Here - the lingering thoughts of regret are snuffed out. You’ve played her games full of deception and bluffs over the little things, and this wasn’t any different. When you finally speak, your jaw is trembling. “I’ve done my best to- stay composed and professional.”
Despite this, Anna’s face winces; her body seizes as she starts to break. “This again,” her voice seethes, “if you really stopped giving a fuck about control, you would push me down, rip off my skirt, we would both get the same thing in the end.”
You stop her movements, and the dance ends. The grip on her wrist grows steel tight. “Anna,” and her eyes roll back at the hiss passing your teeth. “God- fuck. How can you be so fucking straightforward?”
“Because I am,” she answers, pushing off. Not meeting her in the eyes is equally painful. “Mind you, that wasn’t a request. I’m being vocal about what I want- what I’m begging for.” Memories come flashing back in flickers: you, spent, uncontrollable - this revolving game with Anna; like the main rockets shot the Primrose deep into the unknown corners of space, there wasn’t a way back home to where things were normal - and honestly, why should either of you care?
You and her can’t help yourselves. Unbridally kissing with flung arms over each other.
The only thing you hear above the smacked lips is the occasional beeping of the flight controls. This new abode - now one with the stars.
Her lips push you back and you’re matching it. Two days ago, Anna was ecstatic to discover your tongue; feel the subtle clack of teeth - her lovely laugh when she’s riddled with bite marks after figuring out all the forms your bodies meld together. Even now - it’s an unknown concept in itself, still- that control was still a possible option to consider.
“It’s not fair - how perfect you are,” praises Anna, thumb grazing beneath your eyes. “Why are you so-”
“You’re beautiful, it’s fucking absurd,” you compliment. Simple, for one, but it makes her smile brighter, and the talk is pointless when all you want to do is make out with her.
Anna gets you good with her mouth. How they slot themselves against yours, easy to pass air between them before it’s all suffocated in teeth and tongue. The only thing that splits your being apart is the fact that you can’t sweat and she can. You have an automated pulse, unlike hers which is real. Blood does not rise in your skin compared to Anna’s; you can’t resonate the same electricity flowing through her body at the merest graze of your fingers that makes her shudder-
There’s a reason to be vocal here, to communicate. Actually, you should communicate and speak up; since you haven’t a clue what you’re doing at all.
You pause and pull back. “Wait,” you slip out in a rush, “what are we even doing?” Anna sighs with an inward lip, catching the spit left behind on her chin. “What do you think we’re doing? Being straightforward. Intrusive- shit, when isn’t a time where I wanted to keep kissing you?”
“Maybe we- ugh.” No point in reasoning: you have to shut her up. “I’m not even sure about-”
“So what if we’re overcomplicating it, hm?”
“If we are-” her lips are back smacking in between words, “there wouldn’t be a reason to reflect on it at all.”
“That’s it,” says Anna. Kissing you fervently. “I want this- let me-” It’s impulsive - infectious, even. It doesn’t click in your mind once she’s pinned you to the beam of the cargohold, raising your arms. You let that happen. Are you allowed to want it? Would you be okay to rethink your existence and your place in this life? Giving everything beyond your body? For her? Plus- isn’t she your fucking captain?
The conversation bleeds into physical touches. Perhaps your questions may serve more purpose through your bodies, but you find a pointless question worth asking: “is this okay for me? To do this?”
“Kiss me again. Hard.” Anna commands. You kiss her, she kisses back. “Touch me. Play with my body.” Her mouth presses to yours once more. “Reject this if you want, I’ll keep begging, please-” she stops halfway and meets your eyes, “make me yours, as you never want to let me go-”
“What do you want, sweetheart?”
“Fuck me. I want you to fuck me.” Pinching the hem, and all you see is the skin of her exposed thigh. “This is the right way to wear this, for your information.”
She lifts the fabric like it’s the final barrier of your restraint.
Anna’s tongue slips into your mouth sweetly, fingers joining yours. She’s putting everything on the balls of her feet and submitting you to her will. All of your thoughts - your words; hell, you could even include the whole damn ship with it - these pretty, meaningless thoughts quell within your throat. Nothing could ever predict this, the shifting dynamic in the rising power and diminishing submission, just the pure desire and lustful look beneath those eyes.
Her leg slots between yours. Mistake #1: you slip down the wall. Mistake #2: you’ve fallen to the floor where Anna has to kneel (on your lap). Her body has a mind of its own when she settles down and the dress is spread between her thighs and the fabric rises at the crease of her leg. Past the harsh liplocks, the teeth get involved, biting. Accidentally first and soon on purpose. You like to brand her body that way, tug the roots of her hair and hear her gasp into your mouth.
“Bed- I need you in my bed, now.” Anna says with urgency. The catch here is that she doesn’t move nor allow you to move. Judgment is a small choice, but it’s nowhere to be found: neither logical or one to seek an agreement towards. Planning could never happen even if you tried. The same could be said for the ideas since they’re fizzled into kisses once you breathe a single word, laced in the dripping spit on your chins or suffocated in your throats entirely. Your mouths are one way to be inside each other.
The floor remains cold, uncomfortable. Not having Anna’s mouth on yours or the other way around for a few seconds - by your shared preference - is much, much worse that it’s not even sought after.
“-pretty, so pretty,” you praise - and, possibly the only thing you can say to Anna. She shuts you up. Stop- stop talking. I fucking need you.
Finding the breakthrough, and there’s a middle ground: your leg high up the opening where she hunches over to your chest, gasping in reverence. Finally. Her teeth find places on your neck and shoulder to bite. She’ll taste iron and polyethylene, but in the subconscious, you’ll feel it; unlike the other memories in movies and polaroids and the many, many emotional breakdowns you’ve experienced in this spot before - the moment is warm, and very comforting. In its full, real rawness.
“Baby,” Anna groans. She says the pet name in a string of others amongst the actual one. The real name is really the only secret of yours she has some relent towards. You realize Anna’s small frame: how the slopes of her ribs deviate and the vertebrae compressing when she’s tense, the fragility of it is reckless against yours, and your hands are having a fun time in the forward and back movement, grinding.
You keep kissing Anna, kiss her to the point where she can barely breathe and her voice doesn’t go beyond a whimper. Nibble her bottom lip, then the skin around it. Her nails, although chewed, would mark indents of crescent moons into your back or create sketches of red - or you’d wish that’d be the case if you had skin like hers, but she’ll leave her scars elsewhere. Studying her expressions lost in the rapture of you is enough; the grind on your leg is already enough. The desire she exudes is purely authentic, unadulterated, clearly seen in the places she wants to seize- it’s fucking you up. You’re belittled to nothing but a person with disintegrating ideas you once thought about her: how these assumptions may all be a façade, these contradictory wishes, you being too dull, too cold or insensate, too- artificial.
Anna cums. She cums all over your leg. The second it happens surprises you both. Your uttered name is no more than a sound following a seeping moan into your chest. Her head falls forward: shattered, breathless, her body goes loose; her sobbing eyes and cunt wetting you, her delicate fingers, and that dangerous, dangerous mouth - it’s- a lot, too much, unbearable, you hold her, hold her up until-
“Fuck. I-” she sputters, tense at the shoulders. “Why am I-” All of a sudden, she’s- laughing? “I’m the worst. I’m a fucking whore.”
Hesitant to move, you keep your hands to her hips. Blotches of a light purple will blossom in the form of your fingertips. You’re stuck processing the entire occurrence still. “Well that’s-” you barely get out (and your voice is static), “-adorable. Very adorable of you, Anna.”
“Yeah,” says Anna, shaikily. “Sorry, uh- I didn’t mean to do that. On you.”
You purse your lips, smirking. “Just taking care of things.”
Anna lets the rest of the weight fall onto you. She likes to hit your forehead with her own; for affection. Exhaustion is a quiet intimacy, and you breathe her in, observe (omit the interaction) the beads of sweat and little baby hairs on her hairline, the cute blush of pink below her eyes, the tiny hairs she’s missed while shaving. The strings on her dress from behind are tangled in a disorganized web: meticulous, but the former since it was impossible for it to be done by her hand. Before the program, you learned that her mother was a seamstress - pledging to an endeavor of exploration in the Primrose with a blank map into the unknowns. You assume she wanted to feel sexy (sometimes). Like she knew that touching herself would be a surefire way to pass time, and you’re curious enough to find more secrets about her.
There were countless times when the secrets were revealed. There was always a reason behind them; learning how an orgasm was plausible enough for Anna to call herself a whore, for example, and while the term may be loaded, it’s possible to think that there’s more to the word. Reasons for behaviors tend to have thorns, and (complexity aside) it’s the best judgement to never expand on them.
Anna’s second kiss is quick. Heavy. Sensual. Dials back the desperation, lets the intimacy simmer there, separating when she can and joining when she’s ready for more, not closing her eyes all the way. Her hand cradles your face before it drifts down to your chest, the fine muscle at your abs, staying there. Slowly. Graciously. Unintentional.
Her fingers skate over where the sensation of touch is still foreign. Diverted away from how she holds your face, Anna’s presence is a binary yes or no with no nuance or eroticism. She breathes color into aspects where they lack, and it’s the irony in your tragic existence: the cryptic soldier riddled with trauma you’ve adopted would have yearned for the goodness between her thighs, in the same fashion you’ve shared the longing for a dysphoric body like hers, if only you could feel anything.
Unlike that version of you in a past life, you’ll abstain from making the same mistake and leap at the chance to live through your partner, and it’s a choice you won’t regret making.
Anna rejected any kind of that delirious thought. “Join me, on my bed. Please, I need you,” she says. Her voice is spent. It takes nearly the little strength she had left, hobbling and soon crumpling in a way her dress exposes the remaining arousal stained on her legs.
Fuck. You rasp in deprecation. “Anna. Anna?”
No response.
“Anna?” Anna repeats.
Your mouth slacks. Being clinical about sex wasn’t the best case to carry on from committing such an act, but for insurance. “Hey. You have to tell me- and I understand if you’re feeling hesitant, but-” your hands are doing this gesture like you’re explaining complete nonsense, and maybe it is complete nonsense. You can’t talk dirty to the girl for your life- “may I- and how you say, perhaps clean you up with consent?”
Anna laughs, incredulous. She gives an ‘why do you even have to ask so cutely’ face. “Are you kidding?” The eye smile and shattering grin is teetering towards insanity, and her voice trembles. “Look at me.” You blink through it. “Look at what you did to me- honey, I’m fucking dripping-”
Impulse floods your brain like an ocean sinking you to the bottom. Freezing awkwardness creeps in at the same time. There’s no denying it: you want to taste her. Pick her up from the floor and fling her into the mattress and feel her quivering cunt throb over your tongue. Things would be a lot easier to take your cock inside her on the matter - but your fingers will have to do for now - a lazy attempt where the memories of your prior versions have had the same feeling too-
-then it all spins in your head.
Anna’s palm flat on your chest, pushes you upright. “Stop.” Fuck- you didn’t mean to- that wasn’t supposed to happen. Did you fuck up?
“You’ve got something there,” she points. “On your leg.”
You part your legs further as she kneels to lick her own cum off your thigh.
The sound released from your mouth exemplifies the break in composure. You’re sure it echoed into the ship. It’s just the two of you, after all. The overarching notion of subtlety - if any remained - dissipates into the air. Slow, intimate, romantic sex is fun and unattainable until it’s a thing you no longer want - even when your figure is hollow and all you can do is fuck your psychology into her till her body breaks. Sex is another way of communication; to fuck with someone equally as it’s fucking them. The dynamic resets; a passion reignited. You grasp at Anna’s hair. “Look at you, just a fucking-” and whore would be too on the nose, too nice. Slut is a good reach, but the intent is deep in the actions (and embarrassingly so), she grins right back.
“Baby.” Anna calls, playful. She’s pretty when she’s on her knees. “We do it your way. How ‘bout I clean you up and have my own fun-” it stops short with a hum and a bit lip, you’re smiling along with her, absurdly. Someone like her can be embarrassing without bite, but she lets it be known. You’re both idiots; sex is a silly thing to inherit, and that’s exactly how this will go.
“Yes please,” you confirm - it’s improv at this point, fancying a gamble and nervous about what's to come. “Please.”
The script flips. Anna’s tongue laps the spot where her clit would be, but it’s your cock. She lifts back, slightly. Her kisses are wet and real. Now your arousal is the gravity and past the event horizon, succumbing to its merciless pull.
You struggle to believe this is fiction. Watching Anna’s face, when she lets you see it, one full of curiosity that you disregard the deficiencies of your body, leave it as your cap on her nightstand the next morning. You’ll come back to get the insecurities later, when everything’s settled.
Anna peppers a kiss to your underside, her breath canvasing the crown. Some of her slick is still on her chin and now on the shaft (another believable fiction, if you will). She doesn’t use her hands (not yet), and has her way of working you up with just her mouth, like a toy. You stare right at the impasse of her sweet lips past the tip and halfway, and you don’t tense. The more she sinks, the more spit sprinkles down her neck and onto the fabric every time she gags . She knows to keep you here for an eternity, and she might just do that. Hell, the silence you had earlier returns in your throat, harboring a newly refined tension.
“God, do you realize how good you taste right now?” Anna asks (again, believable) - and she’s aware that it’s rhetorical. Fantasizing your being in an actual body with a beating heart (this is a small testament to your dilemma); if Anna truly loved you - she’s yet to say it, but there is no other explanation - if she loves you, she does- she will.
(At the same moment: a gate appears. The point of origin, and you don’t question it. Now wasn’t the time to think back the life before-)
Anna spits on your shaft, her hand coming into play. “Is this okay? You didn’t move.”
You’re not entirely there, and she’s right. The image of the gate goes to the back of your mind, looking at Anna. She has a hand under her gown, fingering herself. Indulgence with her is shameless, and pitifully adorable; she knew it wouldn’t take her that long to resort to such lengths. This is also the first time you’ve seen her where the roles are reversed, where she’s got her head between your legs and not the other way around: purely genuine the way her mouth feels around you.
It’s new. Of course you fucking like it.
“Good?” asks Anna, thumb tapping your slit and a thick bead of precum weeps.
The slight slide of her palm leaves you in a breathless response. “Fuck.” Say something else, goddamit. Sure, it’s unoriginal, for how you’re uncovering these masked emotions. You’re begging- like her, sighing in rapture, humming in this somber swan song. “Anna, god-” Don’t stop. You begged to keep going.
Anna then spreads your thighs wider. Your head hits the wall. Her drool’s coated all over your cock. Moaning is all you basically do underneath her hand.
You don’t feel anything; this doesn't affect you (well; it’s making you shiver - which, in turn - it’s affecting you). Her: spit-stained all over her gown, wearing it in a way that’s more intimate than being naked. In what’s another handiwork well crafted by her standards: the fact she hasn’t revealed much (yet). She’s being cruel, you think. The squelch of her folds parted by her fingers makes you ball your fists, almost to make the polyethylene tear when the purrs from her throat bombard your cock, how she’s only doing this to painfully remind you of how delicately you want to fuck her. You realize, when she cups your balls with her other hand-
“Does this feel good?” She murmurs into your tip, corkscrewing the sensation.
Yes. The nodding is actually pathetic. You’re losing grip between fantasy and reality; it’s incredibly easy how that happens, like jumping off a cliff or setting your body on fire.
“My good baby,” Anna praises, swallowing your tip between her lips. “Should I keep going?”
“Yes, yes,” you’re saying, and she never fails to submit you to her will. There’s a groan and maybe a holy fuck-
Her grip tightens. The shift from friction to slick wriggles your spine, arching in a sense of cumming had you imagined the experience to go this way a few nights ago. You have pieces scattered - between machine and repurposed flesh - not far from their origin; with those parts making you flawed, it motivates you (in that human nature) to seek that.
“My lovely girl,” you compliment Anna, stroking her hair as she bobs down. A surprise on her end, sending vibrations along your shaft. Easy to tell she’s enjoying this as well, but will somehow find an excuse to say otherwise, be in denial-
Tell me, tell me how good this feels, she might say, or have already said. Tell me how much of a fucking slut I am for you.
Anna pops her mouth off, licking her lips. “Don’t be so tense,” she tells you, her tone dazed, “relax, okay? Just- let me have this. Don’t force it further. I want you to fall.”
(You think back to the gate; failing to understand it still, but it’s not the first time you’ve set foot here. Despite its grandeur appearance being unknown, you do know this: it’s a cornerstone to the person (rather, persons) you might’ve been before. At times, the bleeding memories, triggered by chance or in a random instance, and you’ve felt the thought swallow you whole. Love, sadness, and anger, adjacent with a gunshot wound, tattered skin torn from stained metal, leaving you in an anguish so pure it emulates the form of a primrose. It’s always dangerous to stand in this headspace - and the pleasure was always a perilous catalyst.)
Once past that barrier, the separation between you and your previous versions stretch and thin, divided in the conflict of perception and transformation. That too, is a dangerous game, but with Anna she instills you with such confidence; you’ve learned through her, you’re allowed to want, and harness that want. Her, the idea of her, her body, her being- it’s a rope falling short out of your reach, a hope to grasp your mind back from above and onto her hands and lips-
“Anna, god- you’re so good at that,” you moan when she has her lips pressing right at the base, swirling her tongue underneath. An affirmation made true ascending fiction. When she moves her eyes, adoring, proffering, its perfection in all rights. You’ve seen so many expressions from her; here’s one more for you.
Fall for it, Anna’s eyes tell you, fall for me.
Anna gasps off with strings of spit and precum laced on her mouth. “I know you love when I do that, please- keep telling me.” Oh, you’re in love with her, but the conclusion isn’t absolute; an answer to an inevitable question. Fucking is equal as living in the present, dancing with no grace is equal as to not dancing at all.
You are going to be a mess; a mess with her.
You will experience the highest of highs in this endless journey with her, and eventually-
You’re going to gracelessly fall from everything.
–
(Your subconscious slips into a momentary dream again, replaying multiple occurrences:
memory playback #1: (target breaker five seven twelve jack) SOS, danger, achtung, error error error - a phrase called upon the last time you truly wanted to be free. You taste a tinge of gunmetal in the kiss. Amidst the desecrated land where peace hardly rests on the crushed stone. You’ve had ideas of crushes before but they never burned or ripped your heartstrings apart like this.
memory playback #2: water fills the space where the concrete once stood. A haven- the place where all the nightmares have failed to touch. You fall into the ocean, drown in both exhaustion and exhilaration. Soon, you’re cradling Gawon, on her back, watch her hair blossom into a halo over the saltwater, ignore the fact you might be sinking as you both kiss and kiss and kiss recklessly, see the flame beneath her shimmering eyes and when she finally cums you both feel human-
memory playback #3: Gawon leads you to a greenhouse (rather, what’s left of it) near a library; a moment passes, and all of your fractured shards are their own being, in multitudes: your genderbent body next to her female body, the faint hum of the cicadas in the distance subjected to their own repertoire. You wonder if this is what real love feels like-
-but you also think: are you really worthy enough to be cherished for one so filled with such faults?
memory playback #4: her long, dainty fingers carve into your back the same fashion yours did to her waist. These scars are going to last forever and somehow you’re okay with it. It’ll be the same as hers. The claws of war never asked permission to ruin your body but Gawon did it anyway, fueled by lust and worry mixed in her eyes. How desperate they were, as she’ll deliver the killing blow with the singular bullet in the chamber-
memory playback #5: her hand claims your neck as she sinks onto your cock, suffocating you until there’s resistance - like you’re her sacrifice in a ritual. She swipes a line of red on your cheek and the clutch on your heart is nearly lethal-
memory playback #6: smoke fills the air across ruined infrastructures, old base camps, even the bombarded bunkers. Small pebbles of rubble fall from your back until it’s against the concrete, Gawon’s mouth attacking you viciously (plus there’s never been an instance where you two have fucked if it wasn’t laced with an ounce of desperation). Her tongue clashing yours, forcibly hollowing your cheeks with every suck and all you want is to reciprocate the same feeling, please her, share this feeling, to revel in the connection and disparity of your bodies communicate, shove a few fingers deep in her cunt and fuck your cum into it the next, call her everything but sweet- you fucking slut, my good little girl-
“Now now, puppy,” Gawon tells you, palm flat against your mouth, her hot cunt pilfering what’s left for the taking with your cock, caressing her walls over every possible inch she can get, “i’m allowing you, it’s okay. Letting you fill my pussy. How much it wants your fucking cum-”
Oh, it’s twisted. You have to look at her; you’ve got no other choice. She tips your chin up with a finger and it barely does anything with her gyrating hips, grinding the length down until it pokes her womb. Gawon hasn’t even lifted her hips once, yet the edge would be damming had it been the other way around with the thrusts, but you’re close. She pulls a lock of hair over her ear as she sinks for another kiss, and your legs are fucking shaking; most of the sounds coming out of you are inhumane, let alone robotic. “Tell me what you want,” she hushes, whimpering - the blade cuts both ways.
“God-” you say, it’s muffled into Gawon’s hand. “Just do it, please. You want this just as badly as I want it,” and the merciful act she commits is raising her hips and feel the weight of her ass slam back down to your balls.
And the next thing she does which may seem unnecessary (but it rewires your brain chemistry because of how dashing she looks doing it) is with the finger to the corner of her mouth and gazing down with every pleading blink you give her - each time you beg or say please and fight against her pressure, arch your back while the waves of pleasure get more treacherous to handle. You can’t breathe with every impasse and slam of her cunt gliding and grinding until she finally has what she wants inside her womb.)
You blink and suddenly the world shifts again. Anna, oh fuck. Your back arches with hers, then you hunch forward into her chest, pulling her with you to the floor. Soft skin riddled in bruises and clenched fingers. Then there’s the heaving and your voice tearing between breaths, spilling out curses the same rate as Anna would in a normal conversation (but it gets a laugh out of you, adorably) - while all of this may be silly, settling with ease: the accomplishment of diving into your body’s memories without staying in one headspace (a major plus), sharing this pleasure with Anna (an even better plus). To your best judgement, there’s no plausible reasons in your system that could explain cumming mush-fucked brain out on the floor; it’s enticing, fuck- you wonder the indulgence, how long it took to get your cock spent.
A blessing it can be, to have someone like Anna take up your attention for that long. Maintaining that from the very beginning: that first cycle where the Primrose’s hyperdrive was primed and ready, staring into space with the biggest smile imaginable; to be so forward in creating the everlasting loop of you; in this space where it takes two, to become one.
(memory playback #7: “Don’t be surprised by this,” Gawon tells you offhandedly, even though the tears streaming down her face says otherwise. “But I’m an idiot for being in love with you.”)
It’s a lot to handle, for sure. “Anna,” you groan. She’s on you still, with the slightest move of her hips and you can’t stop your legs from shaking, warming up her cold body the only way she knows how (because she really- really, can’t help herself in embedding you inside) and the floor grows colder and “Anna,” with a lot more urgency, since her chest is to yours and her hips are elevated. “Fuck- baby, I’m- I’m gonna cum in you.”
“I know,” says Anna, lips hot to your ear. “I love it when you’re like this: so perfect for me and ready to burst.”
You reach for something, anything to grab - for your hand to clutch on as her hot cunt grinds through your load filling her up, and Anna takes it upon herself to use her own hand to hold yours. Her fingers still slicked from touching her folds, and you’re grinding teeth to keep yourself sane instead of cleaning them dry. All you can do is lay there and feel her fuck herself on your cock like a toy, petting you, praising, calling you these sweet names, tracing the line of your jaw.
“Christ. What have you done to me?” You chuckle, defeatedly. There’s a stutter in the sentence. Almost resonating Anna’s emotions - very cutely, too.
“Refining your brain chemistry,” she suggests. Blowing into your ear to mask the sound of your cock gushing into her pussy. “It’s a long and arduous process. Not as easy as wind passing through the ears.”
“Can you like-” there’s a choke and a laugh, “-shut the fuck up?!” Absurd as it might’ve sounded, you’re aware what she meant: her blowing you on her own bed before falling onto the floor and fucking without a second thought; your coworker, your captain- cumming inside your fucking captain - okay, there’s a lot to unpack, but you sigh tirelessly. “How long has it been since we-”
“Fucked?” Anna looks at you funnily, because your circadian rhythm wasn’t something to be questioned nor talked about. “Give or take an hour or two,” giggling with a finger between her teeth. Adorable. “That was nonstop, by the way.”
“Another round, then?” you say. Rolling your eyes in embarrassment. “Maybe if we have a sliver of self control the break would have come sooner.”
“Ugh, how scandalous,” Anna coos. You realize that she’s got your cock inside her still, unwilling to move. Basking in the light afterglow. Comparing sex to a beaming moonlight or orgasms to waves isn’t remote, but the shores of oblivion aren’t that damning if she’s sharing the same burdens as you.
“Oh please,” you whistle, poking Anna’s belly. “Someone’s a little hungry.”
“Yeah that,” she replies, kissing you. She kisses you again. Both of your bodies are spent and heavy. “Why is it that when I’m this riled up, and I’m having an angry craving because of it. What am I supposed to do?”
You smirk, let your head hit the cool floor, tilting your chin by Anna’s fingers until she slips a thumb between your lips in the hope the taste stays. “A tragedy,” you breathe. “Even Sisyphus or Odessyus can resonate.”
“Swan,” grumbles Anna. “I could hop back on your cock if I wanted to, but I’m doing everything to hold myself back.”
“Commiseations to you for being so highly restrained,” you drawl.
Anna refutes by pecking you on the forehead before she loosely rises to her feet. You admire her responsibilities in not letting lust take over her body - as you remained motionless to not grab an arm and tug her down. From the floor, you see Anna’s legs: her knees, specifically, how they’re tainted red and look battered, impressed at the functionality of them since the recovery would take a while after what you two did. Your cock doesn’t flex, but it does.
“Leave me here,” you then say, as a request, quick to answer Anna’s tilted brow before she messes up in asking it. “You said you were hungry, so if you stay here, one of us is going to break, and you’ll be sad and even more hungry and the next round is gonna be terrible and you’ll get in a more pissy attitude.”
Anna goes motionless, flaring her nostrils but exemplifying the due diligence. “You can kiss your sleep schedule goodbye, then.”
“Fine by me, hehe-” you smile. “Anna, you’re amazingly beautiful. Did I ever tell you that?”
“Little dove,” she answers with a lowered gaze, on one knee - both of you know that one more move or touch would be paramount to disregard basic needs and thrive in the exploration of your bodies. “God- fuck. You really gone and done it-” her hands are on her head, “No, stop. Don’t do this.” It’s taking everything in her brain power to resist. “I need to eat, shower, and clean up the quarters. We have a lot to do tomorrow, and on our next location so why don’t we just go rest-”
“I need my midnight cravings,” you then offer, fingers trembling at the graze of her cheek. “I need- everything that has to do with you, please.”
You watch Anna stumble back and trip on your cap, bracing an arm to the hallway. “I- oh!” she’s smiling with her head to the beam. “I can’t with you - being so fucked beyond belief. I really can’t do this- oh my god, ugh. Why are you like this? Why am I so hungry? I swear I can eat on my own without you spoonfeeding me!?” She’s rambling and the voice fades (thank goodness) down the walkway- “Also I am very capable of keeping myself accountable, babe. I promise!”
“Well, yes.” You call back thinking she’d hear it. “Whatever you think, love.” The pet name teeters off your tongue for the first attempt, but you decide to let it stick. “Whatever you like.”
–
On the occasion you’re not all over Anna and vice versa, the bearings remain with you.
While taking advantage of the ship’s free time, you’ve found yourself theorizing a plethora of questions worth reflection. Maintenance on the vessel can only go so far (guidance controls are repaired too late, or perhaps without enough care, especially with Anna’s cum still warm on your lips). Personas begin to split, what once felt like a first thought now revealing itself as a connection steadily withering with each cycle. The prevailing sexual tension; the constant are-you-or-are-you-not, has passed. What remains is a return to the first square of restraint, stripped of ambiguity. For future reference: productivity is no longer optional; you’re expected to fulfill the subpar tasks left behind when desire stopped pretending it was direction.
The tension being studied: is it viable? compatible? sustainable, even. Whether it's worth conjuring up a label that substitutes romance or solitude or just pure, unadulterated sex because the both of you have literally nobody else? Will there be a moment when this has to be addressed, or the eventual confession that escalates to something more? Anna, sharing her art, for one. Will she carry on curating such pieces or use the art to replace the time in fucking? That would be the case if she did - you love her works. The expression it possesses. Teaches anew.
More on the study: would she sketch or paint you? How would you look in one of her artistic creations? Would it be a gaze from a direct mirror, an interpretation, how evocative could you become, a perfect version she envisions you through her eyes? If you proposed the idea of painting you like a bionic human, would you look like Sooin? Sure, it could compensate for the memories, I suppose. They have little significance, you can’t remember who’s who and what’s real; in the end: you are you and why (no seriously, like- why) is it that there’s a resemblance of Gawon with Anna?
–
(You’ll leave it off as this:
one: you’re fucked in the head.
two: maybe Sooin [or Gawon] is fucked into your frontal lobe.
or three: your brain is fucked.
It’s one of the three, you know that much.)
–
Not long after, Anna’s made it to the dining quarters - your dining quarters, as you’d coin it. Shared spaces and all. Couples have that aspect, usually, you overthink it from time to time.
“Hi,” you greet her, casual, nonchalant, nicking your shoulder into the wall because of how pretty she looked. It’s worth mentioning: “You look good. Like- really good. How is that possible?”
Anna, on the other hand, leans back on the kitchen counter with an egg sandwich, her fair skin shining and glistened with spit, her nightgown in place (despite the annoyance of not being able to rip it off her. She quirks the corner of her mouth before biting. “I didn’t think of myself that much, if we’re honest. Never was the type to stand out over the others.”
“That’s a matter of perspective, ma’am,” you reprimand. A good tip in the personal scale of your deteriorating thoughts. “I’d be an exception, because it’s you; the woman I love? a gravity I fail to escape from? you’re beautiful.
She pouts. “So you’re one to say I was a slut before we did what we did?”
You can’t afford to fall into old habits. Anna nibbles another piece off, and considering how poor you’ve been carrying out orders, it’s critical to maintain her routines and needs. So you carefully continue: “No. Not exactly, but that also means-”
“You and your tangents,” Anna shrugs. You see the opened bag of tangerines, peeled and eaten halfway. That does beg the question, but you don’t address it. Given the travel time in space and with the amenities overstocked with the same kinds of foods that exhibit redundancy, and bland as they are - okay, you decide to let it pass and move on. “You love talking about these things and I love to listen,” she lifts a hand forward, seeing that your face remains unchanged. “Why don’t you indulge me in your thinking?”
Ugh, she’s unbearably cute.
“Okay,” you say. Composure is broken glass beneath your bare feet and you don’t even have feet to begin with. “Right- my point is, and I’m motivated to belittle you in all the ways you like-” Anna tilts her head with curiosity, and you’re failing to keep this deliberate and chaste, but- “words like whore and slut, or-”
“If they fit the mold, and said ‘mold’ being me?” Anna assists in the connection.
“-yeah, and you’re completely fine with it? None of those things affect you in any way, shape, or form?”
Silence falls between the two of you. “Back in Toyama, most of the girls said those kinds of things- to me. Calling me a lowlife, a slut, whore, a pretty pick-me girl - I mean, I was a whore at some point back then,” she says. Ketchup drips down to her breast and she swipes it on a finger, licks it clean. “I may or may have not written about my teachers and classmates - in a sexual manner-” you bite your lip at her stifled laugh, “-until someone found my stuff when I was away.”
“Doesn’t mean you had it coming,” you reply.
“But then I thought: if people who claimed to be not a whore are willing to treat whores as such- what’s so bad about it? It’s not my fault they’re spiteful because they can’t relate. What if I want to be a whore, huh? At least that was until the conversation veered off into the freaking space project-” her arm falls with a scowl on her face, accusatory, and you feign ignorance. “-and that’s just a roundabout way of how you were with me.”
“Finish that sandwich first and then we’ll have another go,” you supply a reminder.
“Why don’t you eat it for me instead?
“Would you rather ache on an empty stomach while I dick you down? Or have enough energy to suck me off while I wrap your hair nicely into my fist? If you don’t take care of that, you're going to be disappointed one way or another, so which one will it be?”
Anna then bites another piece of the sandwich. “Alright. As I was saying: those girls were idiots. Calling me a slut or a whore is a compliment, and whether or not I am one-” she glances again with food in her cheek, “-you should know with the cum on your thigh and my lips on your cock after. It isn’t really all science, just look at me. Look-” and she slips a hand under her gown, showing the soaked fabric, “-well, it’s been a little while since that, yeah.”
You can see her eyes move at a frantic pace, the neurons firing every bit of electricity from her brain, then she lets another drop of ketchup fall on her chest. A few more to follow. “Ah,” she sighs. “Needs more water.”
It makes you consider: the option to surender and push her body down and fuck her over the sink like she deserves it. She’s a mess. You’re the same, but you’re able to make more of a mess with her. How good she could look squirting like a faucet and getting the cabinets wet - another tangent to daydream about, the potential your asymptomatic self could handle. You are both idiots, idiots in love with wants that are albeit predictable. By now you should’ve checked the thrust capacities in the primary boosters, but you couldn’t be bothered with something so boring if it wasn’t for you spending another second with her.
“You- I can’t. You’ve got issues, Anna.”
“I’m an undeserving bitch,” she tells you. “You have the personal account first-hand; I got the evidence. It’s gone through all the checks. My pussy and your cock are going to have a very constructive discussion.”
That turns the gears in your head. “Uhm- fuck. So. I’m just gonna completely ignore what you just said, but this exchange will be brought up in the next debrief.”
“What is that gonna do? Scare me? Fuck if I care. Do it anyway.” Anna laughs, loudly. “Maybe the universe will finally realize how fucked we both are.”
“Oh, I’m perfectly fine, thank you.” It’s an announcement that goes over her head. “Sane for that matter. I haven’t a clue what you were talking about just now.”
“Sane, my ass. You didn’t act like this when you were breeding my pussy the other time,” she says (it short-circuts your brain a bit, too). “Let’s do this. A litmus test to assess how your brain’s holding up. Take this.”
She tosses you a pack of fruit snacks. Technically speaking, you’re not built to eat most foods, but there’s an exception for a few bites here and there - and thank the maker for understanding that food is fuel, and the acquired tastes for a bionic also gives meaning for a molecular analysis. A part of you wonders whether someone has moved the heavens and earth to grant you as much humanity as possible. On the other hand, you’re torn to be content or deep in thought, but this is natural to think deeply about your personal ethics. None of that mattered, anyway. You nibble down a piece or two. Er- at least make it look like you are. You do get through the package with no problem, but the juices are squished out and required a little bit of tongue and sucking at the bottom-
“Great, I’ve got this to deal with.” You laugh, wiggling the bottom of the plastic.
“Aww, a baby can’t finish their food,” says Anna. “I’ll give you another pack.”
“Why waste your nourishments on me?” You ask. It’s unwarranted. Considering the percentages diluted to your space travel (Anna having a fit because the unit had to be down to an even number ever since she cried - well, ugly cried - about how unfair it was for you two to be shipped off into nowhere, and that you understood perfectly). If anything, you’ll stretch out the rations for another four to five thousand cycles, just before you activate the slate protocol and go into status back into the magnetosphere.
Once that’s all done: it would be a few more cycles after adjusting course to compensate for the dip in starboard trajectory, return to Toyama and spend the first night back in an alleyway making out just right outside the naval base. Anna wouldn’t be hungry, and you’d be reassigned sooner or later.
All of these tangents, broken down like a square root but none show a result of stability. Technical difficulties and maintenance serve a good distraction of fucking her - a mistake on your own part by following her to the mess before she finished her meal, but you didn’t have a subroutine for that in the first place. You’re a fool that’s led into the whimsical panache and desire from your best friend cumming into your mouth and standing across from her talking about groceries while the overarching topic was about being accountable with basic needs. It’s only natural; normal even. Gawon or Sooin would applaud the both of you.
Your name rings through your ears, Anna’s high-haltered tone another hymn to repeat again and again (and it’s delightful when she says it). “Who cares if the spreadsheet for the amenities has my name on it. You’re welcome to take some, too y’know. It’s not like the fleet views you as damaged goods, huh?”
She has a point, it makes you think. “If anything, I wanna gift you nice things, too because-” you pause and look, “-seeing you happy makes me complete. Who knows, I’m only speaking half the truth here.”
“Half the truth like this last piece of grape? Or my breadcrumbs?”
“I was thinking maybe a little of the asparagus-”
“An asparagus eating swan?”
“Now you’re just speaking nonsense,” you sigh. “I’m thinking of one full grape. Even the whole sandwich.”
“All of the crumbs fall off the crust in the sandwich.”
“That’s not- okay. You know, Anna- forget it. A swan is elegant when they have all the attention on them.”
“I told you this!” Anna exclaims, squinting her eyes. “But you deserve all the attention, too! You can’t keep giving me everything. Let me do the same for you.” Her chin dips, a smirk forms. “How good you’d look with a collar- OOH. Even a rope around your neck.”
“Anna-” you choke. Nothing would ever push you over the edge of a mineshaft unless it was pure sex talk. “God. Why do you even- for fuck’s sake, Anna. Holy shit-”
She snorts. “Be a good lapdog and fuck me yourself.”
Forget logic. Impatience triumphs common sense. You bolt across the dining area and press her to the fridge, ready to reign fire with your mouth-
“Now now, sweetie,” says Anna who stops you with a finger to your lips and before you could put your tongue to good use. Her voice is firm, serious, looking you in the eyes through the heavy breaths. “You didn’t let me finish my snack.”
Like a fucking musician, playing you as some instrument, controlling you like a servant pet. “Anna,” you rasp, graveled. “I swear- I’m gonna be insane if you don’t- Let. Me.”
“Hush.” A dismissing command. “Do pets speak? Or do jesters play when they’re not asked to? Sit down, now.”
You take a step back, defeated, shuddering. She’s managed to break you. This part of the script wasn’t in your hypothesis filed in the ‘mess hall scenario’. The fact that she could even act like this despite the lacking ability-
One push of her hand has you stumbling to the chair. Anna walks from the fridge, letting both straps of her dress fall from her shoulders, revealing her tits. She smiles, laughs at you to make the image less obscene (but not by much). “You look tense.” No fucking shit, you’re thinking, of course I look fucking tense. “Be my little songbird, honey. Sing all the sounds you want. I just want to have my fun before I ruin you.”
You stare at her with a parted mouth. “Sure,” you say. Switching to another topic would be a viable option here. “Allow me to add,” and the hint of being a fearful avoidant rises with the sentence, “an idea I’ve been contemplating about you.”
Anna opens another pack of fruit snacks. An impulse spikes deep in your consciousness; it papers over your cracking persona. Having settled in the psychoanalysis of this exchange wouldn’t last another second without the urge to not think but do. “For one to bear such thoughts in this condition,” she tells you. “It intrigues me.”
“Like you, I have my limits when it’s relevant.”
She mumbles the same sentence, probably in annoyance. “As if you weren’t the one in heat and wanted to get on me right away-”
“You don’t have the warrant to make that accusation,” you grit. “I don’t break. Easily. “
“And yet you were,” she retorts and your expression matches against her relent. “Why would I care? This is me taking care of my needs, without your deliberation. Contemplating about what, exactly?”
“A person- a person that I remember-” you stop short. Most conversations like these should be civilized. You are civilized beings having dinner - and the topic that usually returns to the table is often engaging. “It’s-” you breathe again, “with these fragmented memories, they just exist, right?”
So, that washes away the nervousness even Anna has no idea about from earlier, but you add: “It was, and why I had- enjoyed that-”
“My, are you shy from what we did?” asks Anna. “Is the brain reduced to mush during sex? Or how I grinded on your leg and cumming-”
“I’m being serious. If I can’t hold myself back-” you smirk at the thought, “-okay. The whole point I’m trying to make is that while we do that, I realize that my past self was in love with another woman.”
“Really?! Hell yeah! That’s good!” Anna exclaims, undeterred. “I hope they fucked, too.”
“Definitely, and I think with those blips of memories is a chemical reaction waiting to happen. Because whoever I remember-” you wave your hand to your face, “-and I know her name, but it feels invasive from time to time, seeing these memories, and they’re starting to creep in while we fuck.”
“Hang on,” Anna shakes her head, biting down a piece from the fruit pack. “Should I be upset by this?”
“No- not really. You shouldn’t,” and you see Anna’s gaze soften. It’s sobering (for all the sexual tension built between the two of you) she doesn’t let it slide if she’s aware of a problem. You’ll provide the explanation: “That being said, I-”
“-looked into my inner self and found a caveat,” she says.
“And I wanted to forget about that past self, rather to be present, in this body, with you.”
“I appreciate your concern. If it makes you feel better, I’m not mad at you for that. We’re just managing as we go. Rendering how complicated it may be.”
“I feel the same,” you reply. “Believe me- it felt good. And you’re right, there’s a limit how much my body can take, and the sex is good and my previous clone is the same as me- so it makes sense; but at the same time, it isn’t entirely mine - to also add, when we talked about the Ship of Theseus, Anna, I know that look you’re giving. I wanted to hear your- thoughts.”
“Yes,” Anna crumples up the foil in her hand, “We can go through your manual. Maybe run through the directives and experiment what you like?”
You emit a deep breath, keeping composure - as in: you need her on your lap, bind your wrists together - not yet. “Going by the manual isn’t technically sex education. You’re not supposed to fuck your bionic companion,” you cough, clutching your chest. “Things like that are off the books and shouldn’t be addressed in the mission logs.”
“Shit,” says Anna. She laughs at this (and, endearingly): “If there’s someone we know that was experienced at overlooking the black ink and redacted texts-”
“Unprofessional- we’re unprofessional,” you dismiss with a smirk, to which Anna matches. “Prospective, actually. If I can get myself off from these memories, we can also toy with the idea of conducting you into the mix-”
“-this is so hot coming from you-”
Anna hears you out: “Like- it’s a recurring trial, each with a different result at the end. For every time we-” your jaw slightly drops and forms a wicked grin, “-when we continue to practice unsafe sex-”
She puts her hands on your face, forcing you to look up. “Why is it you’re making this sound like it’s a one-off?”
“Absolutely not,” you answer, a little too quickly. If anything: i’m helpless here, falling into an admiration i cannot seem to escape, you think - and having that in mind, you carry forward. “I- I can’t really be sure. I want you so bad that it’s fucking up my cognitive functions. Now- can you just finish your fucking food?!”
“Safe to say you’re dying to have me. Push me on the counter with that cock of yours?” Anna tuts. “You can be a good puppy and wait. I know your body likes to suffer.”
Having someone who understood you so well leaves you stripped cold. You’re not the kind to shiver, but the instinct persists. When the night falls, well- the period of your inner circadian rhythm which Anna claimed to be your ‘sleep cycle’ convinced you to call it like hers as ‘bedtime’ - another ritual you’ve attempted to grasp. There’s no reason to create a protocol in the Primrose where the temperature drops enough to suggest mending bodies together to produce warmth, but you have.
(“I’ve always wanted to live in a burning planet,” Anna had said to you one time, shuddering next to you all thanks to your alterations, and even implementing seasons; dancing in the rain, and creating a makeshift nightstand so that the gentle radiance greets her sloping cheeks every morning - a gift that had always left her in tears at times.)
To circle back: you want her, badly. Patience is running a thin line and all it takes is one hasty movement to unravel everything at once. With the benefit of hindsight, you often catch yourself in depreciation (spilling curses in a comical manner) over how the relationship with Anna would never change. Out of the many stories she shared with you, she claimed: “y’know i could never tell when other people were flirting at me” to which you chuckled at that, sitting together in the cockpit and doodling constellations - in all the things of friendship-wise. Who knows. You could’ve kissed her then along with countless other times after.
Time doesn’t dwindle away into a black hole, but the uncertainty sucks the life out of you. Getting older was a guarantee; not just in your bodies, but in the aging metal around you. The Primrose’s missions are an odyssey of their own; so is challenging the antiquated sense of moralities every now and then. How dehumanizing, it must be for all the ‘what if’s’. In the end: you are you and the choices you make are almost calculated, even if Anna was old-fashioned with her arts and books and ideas to understand.
(She asked another time: you know about Swan Lake by Tchaikovsky? Or the Shakespearian tale of Macbeth? And while watching the gray colored screen late into the night through a voice: “But now I am cabined, cribbed, confined, and bound into saucy doubts and fears.”)
Anna slants her head - the conversation's gone dry again. “You blanked out,” she assesses. “Did you have another flash of memories just now?”
To play into the question: yes, you did have memories of that past life, remembering her- and maybe it’s tragically romantic. “You finished. And we haven’t gotten to kissing yet. I wonder why.”
“You and I are both messy. A pair of fucked up beings in this universe,” she supplies. Handing you the foil to toss away in the garbage bin behind you. “Luckily it’s something we can fix together.”
“And you mean-”
“Exactly what I mean. Come get me.” Anna commands, acting like you needed a trigger word to not jump on her for over an hour. It comes off as a surprise on her end that you do the opposite: walking over with a gentle push back into the fridge and kissing gently. There isn’t an explanation of the rush in lifting her up the metal with your neck in a figurative leash (a metaphoric tether, but it ties the connection down seamlessly), and she’s hot and light in your fingers, and there’s a reaction bubbling in your emotional cortex.
You kiss her without letting go. From your eyes it’s romantic; in Anna’s - it’s undetermined. Her skin heats up like the sun greets her eons ago. Her body shudders; riddled with goosebumps.
“I like this. You. I like you. I love how fun this has become,” you admit, forehead to forehead. Anna smiles, softly; creasing skin in corners all over her face and eyes. More. Previous impulses course through your mind: her voice drenched with at the need of you on her bed, falling soon after and fucking on the floor the next. Her slick mouth working your cock to the back of her plush throat; touching, grasping, needing the sensation and warmth in each other, for something to hold once everything’s reduced to dust-
Toyama is a long way from you two, a mere dot among the stars. Even if those who knew you, or knew of you could see what you have become, they would look with such judgement. What Anna had as baggage here has either been lost in the blanket of space or hidden with the many other regrets she carries. If this floating asylum is the only place where you could have mutiny. If her longing for home has equaled the distance.
Anna kisses you; much, much more gently. You’re all soft lips and battered hearts. Suffice with another memory: the fear of intruding a sacred ground, letting love succumb you over with all its might, and how you’ve let it die at your hands.
“Baby,” she coos. “Tell me what it is. What do you want?”
Keep her hands on you; kiss me softly, then harder. “Pointless wants, they’re stupid- illogical. One word doesn’t get the point across. “I need your body against mine.” Artificial can’t match authenticity. “Make me go insane and have you feel the same way.” You’re a hopeless romantic. “Make love with me until our arms and legs are aching-” and once more, you hold back on confessing the truth. It hasn’t been that long since the first kiss, so this is a bit of a rush, going into things recklessly.
But when has that ever stopped you from feeling so good about it?
Intent and desire burns deep into your nerves and heart, flashes of your past life bends the perception of what’s real and what isn’t. The thrill of your body being lit on fire from artillery strikes or when you sank to the bottom of the ocean. There was also the time where there was a singular bullet in the chamber, and spinning around the old glock fueled more excitement once the barrel’s to the side of your head, waiting for the hollow, audible ‘click!’ when the gun didn’t go off. Nothing scared you that much and that was the empowering (or frightening) part you miss.
(memory playback #8: Gawon runs ahead of you to an end where there’s no return and a crossroad that alters fate. She’s got a cigarette to her teeth and offers it between her fingers, gazing tenderly. You dance with her and the heart in your chest feels like it’s going to be pierced from your ribs. When you think about her, you fail to cry. The red ribbon around her neck is on your wrist and the scent of her hair is all but ash.
memory playback #9: The grief you carry is unexpressed love, without a receiver. It leaves your body, like a flock of doves creating a constellation into the sunset, greeting the stars for her, searching for their lost companion they wish to love and cherish.)
“I care a lot about you,” Anna rasps into your cheek. “I really do, believe me.” She understood your internal conflict, and perhaps it's this moment where you could finally make peace with it: letting Sooin and Gawon cuddling past the gate now shut in your head. In another life (that past life), your intimacy is the same as theirs, and the kind you’d want to keep close. You’re entranced into another slow dance with Anna, one without music, holding her in a tempo that’s a little too slow, locking lips again and again, and that would be more than enough.
“Your happiness will always matter more to me than my own,” you tell her. Heresy in its true form, but you’re honest, and that isn’t made more obvious than embracing each other in the kitchen. Your hand sinks to her side. Risky. Some of her hair is covering her ear: even more risky. You want to keep charming her.
She looks down to your fingers at her thigh, tensing and giving at the feel. “This is okay, right?” you ask, knowing very well there’s one answer you want to hear; longing (basically yearning) for Anna to say it.
Anna nods in approval. “Mmm, I-” You can tell she wants more - more of you. Yet you play into the teasing. Surrendering isn’t the only way to get power, and pushing her buttons doesn’t always have to be the endgame. Her eyes dart from one end to the next, and the reactions are cute to see up close. She gets pulled closer at her own pace; a loose arm pressuring around her once you settle back on the chair and (finally, at long last) in your lap. Between the short asphyxiations, you know she’s ready, bestowing the responsibility back to you - aware of how this game is being played, and while she’s completely flustered and plastered pink on her face, she goes along with it: “Why don’t you tell me more?”
“Show me more of those old western films you’ve been watching. Paint cute things all you want,” you answer. Right away, these are foolish things. “Cook those meals from home. Look up at the stars and fall face first into the planets that we explore.” Oh, you’ve got the saccharine plot all set up, but it widens the grin on her face while she’s dripping between her legs.
This side of you is the most raw and inescapable version you’ve ever been, and Anna has had her fair share of going through these phases, and while you’re rattled in dread of being more explicitly, you perch on her ear: “and please, I want you to teach me more of these dances,” and you’re sure the answers will come as they go.
“Dancing has a sensual approach to it,” says Anna, seeing through the facade. “Once you see past the veneer, the art transcends to a whole lot more.” This has you smiling like an idiot, and you can’t stop it from happening. The additional, and hilarious fact of you wanting to canvas her body more than what space has to offer - but she’s here on your lap and so close to your heart. The line of her collarbone, the small beauty marks sprinkled on her shoulder and chin and ear, her firm mounds; a small hint of her nipple peeking above the gown and the strap to her arm.
“Anna,” you call out to her; her hand guides yours to her breast before she responds. Forces your fingers to clutch and grasp as she barely does anything to stay still. “Anna. Can- please. I know-” you’re pushing it, it’s driving you insane, circling her nipple and not even giving a pinch.
“You don’t have to fucking ask,” she grits, but it’s mixed into her whimper. “I swear- I’m gonna have to toy with myself if you’re not going to do it for me-”
Pinch.
A press, pull, then a little flick. Soon your tongue will do the same. “Because you’d rather use your hands than mine? I guess my hand will have to do while you take care of that.”
“Oh please. I can touch myself at the thought of you whenever I fucking want,” she groans, shivering when you have a hand to her shoulder keeping her in place. “You don’t even know about the time I laid on the table and fucked myself in the hopes of you seeing and taking care of my problem-”
“Huh-” you drop the act, slightly. “When did you- what?”
“What? No- I mean, I just grinded against the corner. And maybe the chair that you’re sitting on right now. Okay, look- I’m just- fuck!
You laugh into her neck. “When did you even do it? And why’d you keep that from me?”
“A while ago. Probably the first few cycles into our mission period. I even had it journaled in.” Anna beams. “Can you just fucking touch me already?!”
The inner curve of your thumb and finger moves up to the crease of her hip and leg, then her stomach, then the underside of her breasts, all the nooks where you can touch. “Do tell, Anna,” you propose, indulgent. “What was the appeal?”
“That you’d drop to your knees and proclaim the same desperation you have for me,” she answers. “Use me like a toy, and just rail me on the table with a hand to my neck and-” a gasp once your thumb flicks her pretty little clit. “-you just fucked me senseless. God, I beg-”
Your mouths are clashing again. There’s been too much of the talking and less of kissing. The both of you aren’t sure what you’re doing. A finesse of feeling her body, you assume. You also presume there’s an optimal route to explore her body - to hell with going by the book, you’ve no need for it. Anna wants to be touched; she likes to be touched. Her body is going to be pliant and soft and you’ll love nothing more than to lick the sweat of her waist and feel the friction get together - okay, stop fucking overcomplicating it. Worship your lover with all your might. The drunk pleasure will happen regardless.
“Don’t- don’t,” Anna shoves a whine down your throat. “If you think about stopping, I’m going to make you crazy about me-” she begs, and her character finally breaks into impatience. She’s got two fingers deep in her cunt, fucking herself.
“Look at me, honey-” she hisses, pathetically. “You’re only holding yourself back.” The next thing she does is lift the same hand from her legs, slipping those same two fingers into her mouth.
–
Time waits for no one, not even you.
Her hot lips laving yours enough to make you lose it even more. She doesn’t play nice (but she never played nice.) Anna’s face is difficult to read; is it control? rapture? ruin? or perhaps gratification? Too much to tell, and there’s a lot of ground to cover. A winner like her takes it all and the loser - unfortunately, has to fall and suffer. You have your directive, and there’s the added order of acting on whatever she bids you to do. Her puffy lips coat your cock delicately, tongue stroking the roof of your mouth as she lets her hips settle on the length.
“How much do I have to do to make you- ugh!” She grits, grasping your neck soon after. Because the concept of power is somewhat new to her and she’s got her priorities straight. “Do me a favor: get the fuck on the table.”
(You believed it at first of her not having the authority to rest it heavily on your head - but god, you’ve never been proven so wrong.)
Her knees creak the wood once you’re laid on your back, peppering trails of spit from her waist down between her legs. Thank the creator for compensating; being able to respond to the wetness was one thing that couldn’t deliver in terms of granting you the five senses, but you make do. Anna’s leaning forward, bending. Most of her gown’s been discarded, revealing skin. Your optics can’t process all of the new pieces of information all at once-
“I like where you are,” she hushes, the breath alone should’ve made you shiver. “Always willing to submit.”
You’ve never wanted to breathe so desperately in your life. Feeling the weight of her hips crushing your face.
What’s more rewarding than the skullfuck is the constant grazing of Anna’s cunt brushing against your lips. She’s rubbing her clit too, the poor needy thing. As much as you’d love to keep this going, to satisfy your own needs, there’s a bedside rule left unsaid: to return the same subservience.
Anna’s so close to cumming. That, at least, until you bite her inner thigh.
It’s met with: “Ah-!” And Anna’s body convulses, scowling into your eyes. Temporary. This is fun, and you know she doesn’t want to stop.
“Satisifed?” You ask, eyes lidded.
“Love, you- oh. You have no idea.” She’s starting to break. You notice she’s overly strung out on her own confidence; like you, she needs to have her buttons pushed.
“Oh my god. You’ve wanted to do this on me for a while now, haven’t you?”
Anna winces. “Maybe. Who’s to say?”
“You and your fantasies. I love to see you try.”
Her face falls flat, determined. She wonders on something for a moment, disregards the second thought and does it anyway: shoving her whole ass across your face and making you suffocate. Even better: her hand grips the edge, you brush your tongue deeper into her. The wood creaks and the servos in your jaw are trying to accommodate as her makeshift vibrator-
“Anna,” you muffle, then the eyes go back to your head. “Mmmf-”
“Yes, right there- that,” she groans. “God-”
She lifts and you hold her thighs where they are. “You are something,” you praise. “How is that you’re this sexually precious?”
“What about you? Is it too much?”
“Nonsense,” you answer. Her being concerned is thoughtful. “You’re doing just fine. I mean- we did fuck on the floor the other time-”
“And it won’t be the last,” she replies. “We finally have more use of our time now.”
“Slow is steady,” you remind Anna. Unsaid words are carried through expressions. You’re too drunk on Anna’s essence seeping out her legs, so you’ll keep the talking to a minimum and kiss her (other) lips.
“Baby, baby, baby, oh my-” Next her hands dig into your scalp, and judging from the reaction alone it’s only stimulating her mind more, slipping out words and each utterance more incoherent than the last.
Nothing could stop your tracing tongue dancing on her cunt, switching the flick at the slightest pitch change. The mission hasn’t changed. It’s always been the same since the beginning, only now where you and her have come to realize that to truly survive-
You both need each other.
Sensory inputs are overloaded with data: at the graze of your nose to her clit, the nibble of her inner leg, the shimmy of her hips and once she’s had enough, you force her to take more. A tap of her clit when she lets you breathe. Another one earns a whimper. She’s a molten mess in your hands.
She grabs your cock and it throbs. “Tease,” she groans with her head back, biting her bottom lip. You want to test the limits of how much she can handle; where she can keep her head leveled before losing it completely. Once again: she shudders, swiveling your length, and you look up earnestly with your mouth to her folds. Any more forms of contact could legitimately kill her (and there’s another directive to unpack for that matter), suck her dry before she even has the chance to recover. How you could give her that dream of railing her on the table, but you’ll hold back. Anna’s legs shudder when your breath meets her cunt.
“Anna,” you say, and it’s wonderful to say her name while being under, “just let me- relax, babygirl. Give yourself to me. I promise to take care of you.”
You’ve got the intent down to a ‘T’. It’s just you: this model, her lover, her toy. She doesn’t even let you off once she’s moved down to your hips, her hot cunt just within reach of your tip. Which was safe to say: she couldn’t wait or take it anymore. When the thick tip pushes her folds, her body shakes; the expressions are amazing. You want to see more of them.
The pleasure is sharp enough for you to sit upright and in the present. You kiss her, kiss her head, shove your hand deep into her scalp so your mouths stay touched. Her fingers corral your neck, your back - you can do better than that - tensing the line in your bodies to an unknown measure, something that can be learned errorlessly. “Hey,” you shudder, filling the whole length inside her. She doesn’t move. You’ve got your hands to her hips and take up the gaps in her mind; makes her gasp.
“My good girl too fucked out? Need me to get you going since you almost came?”
Her head tilts, she’s cock-drunk. Perfection.
“It’s you,” cupping your head, “this pretty face, and this fucking cock-” she sputters, the grip getting tighter motion picking up in waves. “Please, fuck me. I beg- I’m fucking ordering-”
She knows you can’t be hurt, and only one of you is going to be sore.
“Shh, I know hun,” you coo, hoisting her hips up and yanking them back down with a little more force. You have no regard for the things around you: the wood creaks against the metal flooring; Anna knocks over a cup off the tabletop; your hips thrust upward into her heat. It’s gotten you both delirious. You’re sitting up, licking the beads of sweat off her breast; brush your cock where her cunt’s the hottest.
You know so much but also so little. There’s a nibble here, you might’ve sucked her nipple a little too hard, don’t give her time to breathe as she rides you, and she’s smiling through it. Granted, neither of you are inexperienced with this whole concept of fucking, but there’s so much to learn regardless; there’s you: split between memories and the remorse of a body that was never your own; her, and her intimate experiences in the past she’s never breathed a word about. If anything, the closest you’ve ever approached the topic was one of those conversations where time seems to stand still in the vastness of space - answering the question about her past and all of the events before with ‘look, I had nothing else to lose, so why stick around when there’s nowhere else to go or turn to?’
Even now, there’s a covered painting in this room Anna does while she eats. She never gives you a straight answer about it, and there really isn’t anything you could do to make her budge and open up, but that’s fine. The tension in the air is thick and heavy just like her body as she grinds her hips to yours, and she could be setting aside her emotional baggage to never be spoken about again.
Anna’s face buries into your neck, fingers clenching into your hair. Her pussy is tethered to your cock and each slam down is another pull of reality bringing you back. You could just draw it to simply losing your being to the person you love.
“So deep. It’s so, so deep,” she moans, and you focus on her voice as it makes you remember where you are. You grip her ass the same way hers did around your neck - an unspoken message to share on what feels good and where to keep her keening. Communication here can be fallible: you’re mindful that Anna never answers the questions truthfully or ignores you, and how her past could never be addressed in the corners of darkness; you’re aware that saying nothing oppresses your free will; despite this, it’s just how things are between you and Anna.
But maybe you should focus on this plane of existence. Anna has both the beauty and flaws and the big plus is (you also have your own faults) that you can’t help being in love but feign from the admission. Your skin doesn’t bruise as easily compared to hers, as well as respond to toxic environments since you can’t feel pain. Thanks to her, you’ve learned the aspect of pleasure while stimulating your own learning synapses; with your thumbs to the crease on her legs, keeping her there, flexing your cock deep inside to her walls and focus on her lips clashing to yours. She’s a slick and gushing mess.
You also recall an instance where Anna put a book down and said: “for erotica, why are they doing so much into detailing the feeling of one’s cock inside their lover?” Then she stemmed it off into saying a cock isn’t the only appeal for a woman’s pleasure and all of a sudden you don’t recall much.
The bruises across her legs are starting to bloom in reddish-pink. More decorations to deviate from the usual purple you’ve seen on her that suit her state more or less. She’s leaking on your artificial shaft, insistent for all of it. It earns her another deep thrust upward, a few bites to her neck, hot breaths into her mouth: these things you want to leave as many as you possibly can so that they serve as reminders of an intoxicating poison she’s taken whenever she’s bathing or doing the little makeup. What would be even better: if she got herself off to ease her mind off of this.
It hasn’t even been that long; probably a few weeks since she asked you to dance. Yet the both of you have been forever changed. Who knows what will become of you when this comes to pass: something new - or whole, even. You can be adamant about where you kiss her; you’ll also learn her preferred fragrance, and kiss more of those bitten lips. She might teach you new things: like how to braid her hair, come up with a theory to create a body that can withstand time - and it could be drawn up as a failure, but everyone has their end, right? When you and her cease to exist, this spacecraft will live on possibly through someone else.
Anna’s cunt clenches around your cock. Her tight little hole is the only stimulus keeping you focused. She moans, a little erratically. Keeping your head leveled may be easy, but you don’t fight her clawing hands. You’ve felt like this before, and the memories of that form in waves, encroaching the imaginary sand around the island, but it’s yours to share, and you’re going to sink beautifully.
“Louder,” you say. “Moan for me louder, sweetheart.”
She angles your chin up, devilishly grinning. “Try me,” is where she settles with.
You lift and meet her in the middle with a heavy upstroke. There’s tears seeping from the corner of her eyes - like paint being rubbed down on a palate. She’ll commend her own effort, but there’s the fleeting restraint of ruining her more when she says so.
You fuck her harder once her legs wrap around your hips, incessantly begging. Her moans are mixed with whimpers and whines and you could feel your head go hazy. There’s a memory you recall where the sky flashes white from blue and the world was never the same after that. Your memories of love and yearning are here; pure and impure in ways that make up your existence.
Stiffening and sweating both have their characteristics, those where they grow all the same. It’s preposterous that fucking her would be an experience- let alone, how you’d be wanting to have these feelings again and again within these confines of this home away from home. Anna was always complicated, but you’ve dealt with it.
She mewls into your neck and it's a sound you’re familiar with. “Let me hear you,” you offer, a last gasp for restraint. If her hand were a rope, she knew you’d jump at the first opportunity to tie yourself to it like a collar. Your fragmented self would only thrive with these memories, and not wither down to a selfish being hidden underneath your skin.
I hope my life will matter to you someday, you remember telling her the first few weeks on this expedition - a mere fantasy to delude yourself that she could, but it’s never been more true.
Anna whines when the head of your cock brushes right to her womb. Her fingers claw the polyethylene on your collar, wincing. It’s still a beautiful sight to behold.
(memory playback #10: the spray paint in your hand is tossed from a bombed out wall: “you may forget but let me tell you this: someone in some future time will think of us,” a mantra that speaks high of the future, what might come after death - and you share a kiss, another prayer for what higher being may be observing with the stars, and there’s another kiss, then another, then another, then-)
Your tongue slips out of Anna’s mouth, and the kiss ends. She can taste herself - off of you, with those plush lips, how easy it can really be to fall into her heart. Her toffee eyes are just eyes, but they see you as you are. It’s daunting to be known, how frightening it is to be accepted, alone. You’ve seen terrors before, and so has she. Through it all, it’s love that can transcend for those who can no longer speak.
It’s a funny thing, really.
Maybe one day you’ll watch her fall off the ramp and you’ll run after her on a beach with two sunsets. Make love to her on the sand and learn a little more about her then and there. Simple things like loving her can bring ease; free from all pain, guilt, and shame. There’s no point in thinking twice.
Despite this, Anna tells you to, “please keep fucking me,” and you do. There’s a more dignified approach into how you’ll have sex with her; ideally, a fashion that doesn’t nearly kill her. You’ve memorized every corner and crevice of her body in a short amount of time. It's like a second reflex. Pumping her full of your cock she has to sit up straight by your hand as her limbs try to tangle around where she can cling.
“Gonna cum?” You ask, slowing the pace.
Anna’s face pulls another wince, then relaxes. “You’re-” and she’s laughing through it, settling on your shaft. “You’re going to fucking kill me, maybe,” leaning into shoulder. “I’ve made you cum, so it should be similar, we just have to try-”
You lean forward and lay her back, piercing her womb. She didn’t want you to take it easy - this is what she wants, but the sex was always a form of strategy and compromise. Her cunt makes this unholy noise, and she’s gushing more by the second. Anna gets too ahead of herself, too fast, and she bucks in reflex while your cock slips out and she’s squirting into your hips. You grab your length and wriggle it back on her folds, there’s more. She’s a dripping, leaking mess and her legs are shaking.
“Anna, god. Anna, oh my god-” you gasp. She’s blabbering nonsense, biting into her wrist, spazzing out from the pleasure. Those marks on her arm will be there for a while, and you’ll have to treat those accordingly once all of this is finished. You’ll always submit to the aftercare even if you resign from doing it initially; for no reason - which may be a different case - but it doesn’t stop you from saying: “Oh, my sweet thing. Cum for me. Slut.” Love in this sense can be ferocious. She can’t even breathe with you pilfering her mouth and cunt at the same time.
She mutters your name down your throat, voiced in a way so elegantly that it's like she’s singing in appraisal: cumming over your cock. Her teeth clack against yours and she screams, choking as you hold her down by the neck. For how brutish you may be, it’s justified to how much she’s loving this version of you. You would love to hold her up by the waist and fuck her to the brim on this table; exhaustion isn’t a concept that’s applied to you, but your alternating thrusts from slow to fast makes it all worthwhile. Yet pain is a human feeling and your hips actually hurt and you’re panting and the wrongdoing washes down like a waterfall it hurts-
“Please, please, please-” she pleads, weeping. “Don’t- wait, okay. We need to- I can’t go on like this-”
So you comply once the thrusts have been made. Once the cum settles deep inside her, the romance lingers: you’re cradling her in comfort (unlike those times where life hung on a thread; the many what-ifs), sliding your cock out and seeing a glisten of white seep out of her opening, where she’s warm and you want to keep her that way.
It’s also easy to stay close to her, and never let her go. Easy to be attentive and be accepting of her like she is with you. And it dawns, cruelly: she’s all you have left and- you’ve let it pass. Weathering that in your mind helps you stand stall against the tide.
Anna’s lip wobbles, “Slut. You said ‘slut’ to me.” She hasn’t stopped; seen with a hand to her chest and the other between her legs. “What have you done-”
“Did you like it?”
“I did.” She says while struggling to get up. “In the moment it was-” and the sigh she makes is hellishly pleasing, the devil would be proud. Oh fuck, she mouths repeatedly, pressing her hand to her thighs. “You’re so good.”
“Glad it was- enjoyable,” you say, helping her up and she’s still close to you. Kissing your neck softly. And it connects: exhaustion. You’ve had sex with Anna more frequently in the past few hours since you’ve started dancing, and it’s been a while since you two have relaxed. Utensils have fallen to the floor, there’s a print of sweat on the table from her back and shoulders; her knees a bruised (again), you don’t recall smacking her ass, and the fucking marks-
Anna kisses you again and holds her side, smacking her lips. “I need water,” she pouts.
You thumb one of her bruises. “I can get you a cup if you’d like.”
She meets your eyes, dreamily blinks. Even with her messy hair and blushed skin it doesn't set in on how you and Anna fucked on the table in the dining quarters. You help her down and give her a cup, seeing the water stream down calmly. She looks at the liquid, contemplating. And you realize sex has that effect indeed.
“We need to have more control,” Anna concludes. “This can be a serious problem.”
“The sex of the mess?"
“You wanted me so bad that I can barely walk,” she tells you, trembling so much you swoop in and help her up. “This needs to be addressed later. And we have to make ground rules. Because if not, I’m going to end up dead and you’re gonna fuck a dead corpse-”
She hears you sigh and chuckle, stopping her train of thought. “Before we can acknowledge the other issues, there’s cleaning up and walking back to bed. The list goes on if you want me to continue.”
“I should have you carry me,” says Anna. “Folded me up akimbo and so pretzel-like. My bones are mush. My brain is mush. I’m gonna have an osteo condition now thanks to you-”
Executive decision: “Let’s get you to bed, honey.”
You swoop Anna off her feet. A closer look at her features: the fluttering lashes and small blush she applies when she can make you stare a little longer at her than she liked - considering how it’s a smeared mess and perhaps you did fuck a little too much. Appealing as it is, you like her pampered more than the latter.
“You are okay, yes?” It’s worth the curious inquiry.
“Aside from paralyzed from the waist down,” she jokes, “I guess you can say that I’m in good shape.”
“The offer still stands for treatment, ma’am. A suggestion, after all.”
“I am okay. Thank you for asking,” she smiles brightly at you. “Sweaty, messy. The usual deal. Also you came in me. Twice.”
“We should be more mindful next time,” you say, laying her back on the bed. After all the attempts from earlier, you’ve finally made it. It’s a small win to log in your books. Definitely worth taking.
“Hey,” Anna grabs your wrist, unwilling to let you leave. “You know: we just fucked.”
“Mind I add more than once, too?”
Anna purses her lips. “And you feel, okay?”
You ponder for a second. “Exhilirating, aside from being messy and such.”
“Me too. Not to mention sore-”
“Yep. Even the sore part.”
“God I feel amazing,” Anna huffs. “How long should I wait before we try it again?”
“You’re just asking for another go at me, really? Whatever happened to resting, Anna.”
Anna laughs, slapping your arm. “Could’ve just taken me to the shower, silly. Grab my washcloth and run it through some water. That’ll do for now.”
–
(There’s an afterglow this time around - different from the other times you’ve seen it up close. A calming presence, a little more sensual. And it tugs at your core when you reach the bathroom, keeping the door ajar so she can see you in her peripheral. The washcloth goes warm in your hands - per her request - and the door closes back to her room.
It’ll never be the same from this point on, and it’s something you’ve settled with.)
–
Anna calls you over once she’s recovered, coming out of the bathroom not long after. She slips out of her bath towel, and this is the second time you’ve seen her naked. “You’re not going back to your pod, right?”
“You propose that we are-” and your hands are out to divide the syllables: “sl-eep-ing to-ge-ther.”
“Precisely. Do you want to sleep together?”
“Follow up question: can we sleep together?”
You freeze. “Something I believe we can try.”
“I agree,” Anna concedes. “Now that I think about it, fucking on the bed would’ve been a lot more comfy.”
“Anna, apologies.” You kneel at her feet before the bed. How badly you can crumble at the touch of her hand to your chin. “Promise that we shouldn’t be as rash.”
Anna shakes it off. “Good fucking luck to us. We were always rash to begin with.”
“Change can occur at any time.”
“Customarily, sex has its own ecosystem,” she says, drying the ends of her hair. “When we’re done, we should have all the spots covered in the ship where we haven’t like ‘habitually fucked’ in the next couple cycles.”
“You’re asking for a deathwish if you’re wondering if we fuck in the decompression chamber.” And Anna shares a smile. “Maybe somewhere we can easily relax and don’t have to move as much.”
“The cockpit?” she sighs. “Romantic. But- I suppose that would be nice.”
“Mhm?”
“Yeah.” Anna replies, kissing your shoulder. “For the record: you’d make a fantastic lover. Date worthy.”
While your reaction might be off-putting and bewildered, it’s easy to conclude that you’re blushing over the compliment. Then past the wave of happiness is despair, and here you’ve learned that the emotions boil over to something more solemn, regretful. You sniffle. That in itself is foreign to you, balling your hands into fists and not meeting her eyes. You actually go quiet.
Anna leans over with concern. “Hey- did I mean to make you confused?”
“I’m not even sure myself,” you answer looking over.
“How do you feel right now?”
“Can’t put it to one thing. Reminiscing for no reason- mourning as the other thing, I-” you cough, pinching your forehead. “I shouldn’t be regretful- okay. Anna, can we-”
She doesn’t let you finish and tugs you over further to her bed. A few moments pass with you two figuring out the small arrangement. But then you see the inside of her bunk more and notice the new details about her: a sakura flower drawn to remind her of home, the faded polaroid of her first day in the academy.
“You’re surprisingly warm,” says Anna while nestling to your side. “As if you’ve done this before.”
“I’ve learned a few thing or two.”
Anna hums, unconvinced. “Is that so?”
You kiss her hairline, pull her closer. Safe to assume that she’s comfortable. Her arm goes across to your left. You breathe in relief. “Would be lying if I said I didn’t practice,” you answer. “Emotions are one thing; though, if it weren’t the movies we watched together. I would be lacking in the intimacy category.”
“You’re already exceeding my expectations,” Anna ends off with. “I knew you’d like those movies.”
–
Later, she switches the lights off. Well aware of what you want to keep sacred. You’re her saving grace, a blessing she’d never expect to have.
When you two kiss again, it feels deep into the shrouded darkness.
–
(memory playback #11: When you meet Gawon for the first time, you’re treating a wound to your stomach and have become numb to the medicine spray. Somewhere in a city of Aurelia you kiss her through a rusted blackbox recorder; look up from the wreckage and mark your love with bombs and paint before the waters get too tepid just on the surface. Maybe the roots will grow deep through the water, and you think a slit throat would be the solution for your pierced heart-
final playback: “I love you too. I hope you know that,” you say. Holding each other’s face dear in the chaos of war. Her trauma is equal as yours and it’ll burn you two up like the rest of the world-)
–
You learn again:
Anna’s quarters (along with her bed) is in complete disarray. She’s got the blankets covering the vents; her pillows are smushed into a heap and there’s so many things here that are out of place in the ship. In her case, she never really understood the sleep subroutines you deal with. Despite how smart she is studying astrodynamics, it does not show in engineering. All the more reason to write little post-it notes everywhere on the ship to keep her from not fucking things up.
In the end: it’s really cute.
You place an unfinished canvas on the easel, she hugs you from behind.
There’s a simplicity to this.
“I love the whole idea of you,” she says, pulling your chin to her. “My cute big owl, hm?”
“Take it that you’re okay?”
“Dear, I’m fucking sore.” Anna groans, begrudgingly. “Blame my own arrogance that we won’t be able to do it again for a few days.”
“Pushed your luck and see what happened? How many orgasms did you have?”
“You made me cum four times,” she counts on her fingers. “I made you cum half of those times. But seriously. We need to have an intervention about those dreams of yours. They’re wickedly fucked up.”
To that, you smile. Actually, you laugh. It’s not in your code to elicit such a reaction, and the leniency needs to be reviewed. You’ve kept your guard up, but Anna has managed to melt you down to a puddle of metal. Change isn’t instantaneous - let today be the nexus of a psychoanalysis that may take days- week- or even months to figure out. A relationship doesn’t happen like the big bang, obviously, but it’s good to have a theory about it.
“What else did you see?” You ask. “How fucked up were they?”
“Someone that’s obsessed,” she answers. Finger to her lip. “Issues and things that we need practice on. That’s what I think.”
You square shoulders, crossing arms. “Elaborate.”
“Imagine a parallel world. Where everything is perfect, and we wouldn’t have any baggage to carry, sharing the simple life that we’ve dreamed of having. With the best part being the fact that it never ends.”
It’s worth imagining. “Right,” you say. “Our reality isn’t like that, sadly.”
Anna rolls her eyes, slumping her back. “Ugh, I had a feeling you were gonna say that.” Humbling, for one, yet she flashes a smile nonetheless. “Everyone’s always told me that I dream too much. Dream, dream, dream. Never wondering about the ‘knowns’ of our world. Makes me feel stuck.”
“You can dream with me,” you reassure. ‘that’s one of the reasons why I’m in love with you.’ “I admire these aspirations.”
She hugs you, yawning. “Okay,” she hums. “Promise me you’ll watch?”
And you’ll keep this star closer with the cosmos.
///
a/n: sorry for the mini hiatus. i have one thing to say:
we are so freaking back.
:')
Are there any particular qualities about an idol that tend to inform the type of plot you feature them in?
Like at least in my mind, someone who's more introspective might make me think of them in a more somber plot, but an idol who's quick-witted might best fit in a light-hearted story where the banter is the focus rather than the plot.
Any insights on how you approach this kind of planning?
ooooh, i like this question. let's put it this way.
here i have winter. as of right now there is a solo fic draft of her that is cooking very (and i mean: very) slowly. her character is stemmed off the giselle fic here; where she's: 1.) quick witted with a remark, sassy, and very intelligent. 2.) confident (as fuck. we just haven't seen it yet), and 3.) a girl that is unapologetically herself.
having known that, this is an excerpt for everyone to see:
in my head, winter in this draft still has the same characteristics attached to her that were glossed over originally (informative, perceptive, notices the little things, no bullshit deal and says how they are, etc..) but the direction is in a slight curveball when she's romantically interested in someone who will eventually turn their back on them (spoilers? oh well.).
based on these loose aspects, the plot kinda forms in between the interactions she has with not just the reader, but the characters around them too. i've cemented winter to a specific mold in my head, considering she's a complete package deal in both the plot, writing style, and maximum brain hemmoraging.
planning the plot/premise around her like this doesn't leave my head for a freaking second, and the usual method i like to try (even though it fails) is remembering whatever the hell i daydreamed about with her in my personal schedule. the second (and correct) method is jotting down little notes and details or headcannons that fit with the specific idol in particular.
most of the doc is just a sentence or two but important pieces of the puzzle if you know where to take the story. that being said, it's finding a balance between how you want the dynamic to be in the dialogue, the pretty features on her face, what she does in a situational circumstance, the list goes on.
if you think winter is a yapper, have her yap. if you think winter is a glorified semen demon that won't stop at nothing until you're completely drained, goon tf out.
gosh i sound like caps now that i'm reading this back :yapp:
always around for your insight about these (such sweet) stories. :P
The air hushes coldly over the barren wasteland, desecrated with endless bodies left by the ruins of war.
A lone figure stands tall above the chaos:
Her.
The heat beams down, adding to the unwellness present with the pool of blood around your feet. Though, it’s been like this since you were young, having grown with surroundings and refined with experience. Like your mother - queen of higher beings, ruler of all - has shown you the landscapes of these battles, to watch with such vigor, internalize the scent, how their limbs were mangled. In time, you’ll be no stranger to such wrath.
It’s only natural, however. You can only hold so much back to admit you adore this.
You kneel down to a deceased from the North, their blood dried up on their skin when a yell is heard further down the battlefield. Perching up, a silhouette is seen in the distance; hair fairly short and shaded, skin riddled with dirt and blood too. When you walk near them, their posture is hunched, leaving you perplexed.
The girl becomes frightened when you ghost her shoulder. Up close, her features are fair: sharp, cat-like eyes and a pert mouth. Tears are seeping at the corners. Despite this, she’s quite beautiful.
“Why weep?” You ask. She looks up and blinks, composing. “I don’t see why you spill tears over-”
“I don’t know,” the girl answers, “I just found myself here and there’s nothing but-”
“Bodies,” you shrug and she winces. Despite the obvious being stated, you’re left curious about her choice of words: “Wait. How did you get here?”
“I’m not sure. I can’t remember where I was before- this. And then-”
Oddly, your mother has told this tale a long time ago: how the manifestation of gods could occur both in conception or by some miraculous circumstance; the only explanation- actually, was simply without grievance.
She’s the same as you. Born out of blood. Out of war.
You take her hands and lean in closely. “We’re not safe here,” you say. “My mother may have the answers to all your questions. I can assure you that.”
“Mother?” The girl repeats quizzically.
“Above heaven and earth,” you praise, like it’s branded into your mind. “Jihyo. Lord of all gods.”
“Jihyo.” The girl’s gaze lights up, wistful. Unsure of the name at first, but she remembers, rising. Before you speak about anything else, your name passes your lips. It’s peculiar how this girl didn’t exist minutes ago, despite appearing in a similar age as you.
Peculiar could be one word to describe it - strange as another while you say: “I’m not a God. Not yet, I think, but this would be my territory.”
“Yeji,” she replies, brows cinched. “If we’re on this- ruined land, then maybe we’re gods of war?”
“Only one way to know for sure,” you say while you pull Yeji across the field. Your fingers curl around hers; and there’s the slight pressure from them, too.
A faint idea sprouts in the back of your head: claiming Yeji to be yours.
–
Since you were little, Jihyo was seen to be gentle; as someone with a bright smile - beneath all of that is a pressure that demands respect, carrying authority. Her power is so raw, there’s a hint of lighting - flickering deep in her eyes. Yeji’s stricken look on her face is a justifiable one when you and her meet away from the chaos.
“Want to tell me who’s the girl?” Jihyo questions with a finger to your direction. Yeji, shields herself behind, with you unfazed in the front.
You and Jihyo have a staredown - a brief test to see who yields first. “This is Yeji,” you announce. “Are you fine with me taking care of her, mother?”
“I’ll consider it,” muses Jihyo, tilting her chin up. “If you explain what’s the meaning of this?”
“I found her lost in the landscape. When I asked her, she told me that she just appeared there.” You say, seeing Yeji scoot further and further past your arm. “Makes me think she’s the same as us.”
“Maybe.” Jihyo tilts her head to get a better look, motioning her hand for Yeji to walk forward. “Here, my darling. Don’t be afraid.”
Yeji acknowledges, her eyes tired to the ground. She looks back and you nod in assurance, taking another step forward in front of your mother. Jihyo rubs her thumb over the bridge of her nose. Yeji then inhales sharply, causing Jihyo to smile in approval. “By the Gods. The energy budding within her is similar to ours. Fascinating.”
You smile, astonished. “In what way?” Watching as Jihyo smiles down at Yeji, shifting it over to you now.
“She’s the same as you, a god like us.”
Born out of blood, out of war.
Your face is filled with excitement. “I have ideas for her, if that’s okay.”
Jihyo palms Yeji’s face, standing up soon after. She grabs your hand and hers, pulling them from the battle, the odor still prominent from the long hours. “She’ll stay with us, don’t worry.” Jihyo tells you. “As for your requests, we’ll save those for a future discussion.”
–
Yeji recites the Covenant three days later.
Following the ceremony, she jumps into Jihyo’s arms, high on spirits. “I want to do more.”
“I’m not understanding,” chuckles Jihyo, combing Yeji’s hair and taps her back. “What do you mean by more?”
“When they said infinity.”
“Are you aware of what the commitment is?”
“Lady Yuna pulled me aside earlier and shared the proposition,” Yeji explains, slightly sulking. Her palms clap together like a prayer. “Oh Goddess Jihyo. Please. Please, let me-”
You can only stand and watch her beg to your mother, vision turning foggy. Anger boils in your veins; brain clouded with resentment.
Only a few goddesses have sworn to partake in the Covenant. The meaning - still foreign to your ideals, but it’s one that’s against intimacy, connections, and love. Jeongyeon was one who came to mind - taking the oath; recalling the time after a date with death you refuse to believe is true coming from her.
“Think of it as insurance,” Jihyo said to you as she coaxed you to sleep on her lap. “A reminder of what we must do. To stay focused. To have no distractions.”
(Part of you wants to be against it. You could be the one- you are the one for her. You could give her everything she ever desired, but it’s daunting for her not to know-)
“You can,” says Jihyo, burying her nose into her hair, cupping her face soon after. “I can grant your long-awaited wish.”
“Yes.”
“If you’re willing to accept the responsibilities.”
“Which I do.”
“Very well then.” Jihyo’s voice booms, and the audience erupts. Yeji tightly hugs Jihyo while you stand frozen. Just to be prompted for a reaction by Lia tapping your shoulder. She looks confused when you lock eyes with her, filled with a growing rage.
You start to walk away, Yeji noticing you disappear into the sea of people in the grand hall. Feeling a chill run down her spine.
She doesn’t see you storming past the door. Nor the bundle of tears welled up, either.
–
Wreathed in sparkling gold, Yeji bows at Jihyo’s feet. Hands stacked across her chest, looking up dutifully, waiting for the gifts. Yuna, tends to the fireside, sprinkling incense into the flames. Jihyo lifts her hand, tells Yeji to rise. “Why are we here, Yeji?”
“To accept the offering. The promise of infinity, my queen. Ruler of the divine, overseer or all.”
“And you pledge to take this covenant for the rest of your life? For the good of our kind, until time reaches an end?”
“I do,” Yeji says. Temptation alone could never withstand her willingness. “I accept these conditions.”
“Do you also intend to accept the damnation of your existence from this world, if this oath is broken or defied for any reason?”
No one ever mentions this because very few have been exiled from the empire. The sentence: plunge into the depths of Tartarus and make the tormenting climb back up. That, and crossing the River Styx while your skin is melting off your body. You like to believe that those who met that end died peacefully. You also can’t help wonder what being one would become if they’ve suffered through it all - what monster they might become, and Yeji’s pale expression would be evident of that.
“Yes. I accept.”
“By the powers and through higher beings, “Jihyo declares. “I hereby ascend your purpose to the institution. Arise, Yeji. For you are reborn.”
An overwhelming pressure floods the room, the shrine behind Jihyo bursting brightly with fire. Which only meant one thing: the coronation had been successful. Yeji takes the chalice given to her with two hands, sipping the blessed wine. Everyone in the room applauds to congratulate her, slightly embarrassed through it all. Jihyo brings her in for a hug, embracing the milestone. “My child, I could not be even happier for you.”
“I’m blessed to have you by my side,” replies Yeji.
She twists to the crowd, scanning for you. You stand behind Lia and Nayeon, grasping your right first. Seeing your eyes filled with rage, Yeji slowly looks back at your mother, uncomfortable.
You haven’t faced much loss- not yet, at least. But this would be the first time in your life you’ve ever envied someone for a legitimate reason. Nayeon tries to get your attention, and you’re reluctant. Silently damning everyone in the hall to hell if they ever got to Yeji first.
If you must suffer, so shall they.
–
Time waits for nobody; and the growth highlighted on Yeji’s features have become apparent. Her hair is much shorter than when she was little, well-toned and figuratively sculpted by Aphrodite herself. Adored by her sisters, worshiped by all. As for you, you’ve grown as well, more weather, and frame are accustomed to the demands of your duties.
Most people won’t admit to your face: how the beaming eyes have too much life in them, a demeanor too aggressive - where the thirst for something bigger is unquenchable. You can blame the drive for action, the rush of adrenaline accrued by risks.
You’re the God of War. Yeji was adorned in virtue in contrast to your immorality. She was idolized in goodness opposed to people mouthing you for iniquity, threatening to take a life for your own benefit.
Despite this, it’s impossible for one factor to succeed without its counterpart. No battles aren’t won without a motive; no strength without grit, and someone left standing to victor the spoils.
Yeji is the other half of your soul. The one to complete your existence.
–
She stands in the open field, aiming a bow down range. You’re observing her draw back, ready to fire. Ryujin stands next to her in training.
You carefully watch her side profile, the corner of her mouth pulled way further than usual, earnestly speaking in moderation. Ryujin pauses every now and then to see if Yeji’s listening, but you’d like the idea of her not acknowledging her presence to be enough already.
A trailing hand grazes the rack of bows, taking one from the wall. Examining the feel, shouldering a quiver and walking over to the open windows. Then, you’re back where you were, mirroring the same movement as Yeji, waiting for the wind to ease in the direction.
Ryujin’s caught in the crossfire, too. Oh well.
You pause, pull the arrow back, releasing your fingers. The target’s hit, but not without breezing over Ryujin’s head in the process. Her head ducks down, immediately swivels back.
“Hey! Has Medusa looked at you today, you blockhead?!” She exclaims, covering her head and seeing if there was any loss of blood. No surprise from you seeing her pissed. “Watch where you’re shooting?!”
“Must’ve been the dust,” you deadpan. “I was totally aiming for your head.”
“Bitch-”
“Ryujin, it’s okay.” Yeji interrupts.
Ryujin flashes a look, displeased. Before she could refute, Yeji lifts her hand to calm her. You see Ryujin balling her fist, sighing and walking away, hitting your arm in passing. She gives you a dirty look before moving on.
You hold the bow and arrow proudly, like you’ve returned from an animal hunt. Smiling.
“Don’t know what you’re trying to achieve, but that was stupid,” says Yeji.
“Was it?” You laugh dryly. Watching her draw her bow again for another shot, hits dead center. “Hello to you, too.”
Yeji squints at the target, unimpressed. “You don’t practice shooting usually.”
“Sometimes change is good.”
“What’s there to change if your specialty is fighting?”
You cross your arms. “So. You and Ryujin, huh?”
“No comment.”
“Do you always have this attitude?” You ask, admonished. “For someone painted as a queen-”
Yeji swivels her head back, releasing the notch. She misses the target, and ends up hitting yours. “May I remind you of almost taking off Ryujin’s head a minute prior?”
“Still got heart, don’t ya?” You scowl.
Yeji scoffs in reply. “You idiot.”
She takes aim again, honing her breath and when the wind dies down from the momentary rush. Letting go, and it’s back to hitting the center. It’s the same for the next shot. For the following two, they start to deviate from the rest of the arrows. Much to one of them tagging another arrow and hitting the edge.
You lean your head closer, sensing the pressure getting to her. “Rushing your shots isn’t helping, dear. Ever thought of taking your time?”
“Maybe I will listen to your advice.”
“How so?”
“If I take my time like you did with Ryujin, I’ll get the bullseye again.”
Scoffing, you move behind her. The proximity is close - and you’re not even touching her - but you smirk at the smallest tense of muscle in her body, hovering your mouth to her shoulder. “Just relax for me, okay?”
“I’m fine. Believe me, I am.” Yeji assures.
“Which also irks me, how you’re faltering. You’re not one to miss these shots.”
“I’m just distracted,” Yeji says, shrugging you off and readying her bow once more. “You’re breaking my concentration.”
She becomes startled when she fires another arrow way off target, attention now on your arm to her waist. You laugh, helping Yeji bring her bow back up, steadying. “Seems like you could use a hand.”
Yeji tenses. “Trust me, I’m fine. I’m-”
You shush her, point down to the target. “Here, I’ll do this once.” She listens, letting you reposition and posture her shoulders to the right height. Raise your arms like this, and you can pull the arrow back more than needed, believe me. Though this isn’t said out loud; but Yeji follows.
“Like so.” Her shoulders are pulled up and back, slowing her breath. Stable with your hand to her backside, keeping her straight.She closes her eyes when the breath on her ear is a bit warm, hushing: “Now release.”
Right down the middle, all with a good eye. The tip of your nose grazes her cheek. “Another.”
Yeji goes through four more attempts. You aren’t guiding her at this point - nor you never needed to - so your hands are at her hips, pressing gently. As soon as the last arrow settles into the hay, she sighs and falters into you. “What’s wrong? Exhausted?”
“Yeah,” admits Yeji. “A bit.”
“That’s not all, is there?”
“It’s just,” she says, licking her lips. You longed to have yours on hers. “Most nights are difficult without-”
“Me?”
Yeji goes quiet, unsure to think of a response. Without making it awkward, you snake your arms around her waist again, well moulded by her tunic. “It’s alright. Good shooting, by the way.”
Her body sinks into you, head lolling over your chest. She looks up to meet your eyes with hearts - an underlying pull, urging you to lean down - closer and closer, if she permits it so. Your grasp becomes tighter-
“Yeji,” you breathe, her name spilling out your mouth in this reverent, fragile tone.
But the both of you look up to your names being called by Haewon, waving from inside the range. While she got your attention, Bae trailed behind her, bow and arrow slung over and walking to an open spot. Yeji squeaks in surprise while seeing who it was.
“Hey! Are you guys sticking around the range some more?” Haewon asks.
Much to your disappointment, you look at Yeji while she smiles gleefully, as if nothing ever happened. A good thing was that you guys were out on the field and not in the main part of the place, otherwise the flushed color on her cheeks would be a lot more noticeable.
“Ah, I was just about to leave and see Jihyo.” Yeji answers, hand to her head. “Told me about some important matters.”
“Aw, okay,” pouts Haewon, seeing you and Yeji walk back in to return the items. “Next time then?”
Yeji bobs her head yes, smirking before seeing you two off, walking away without turning her head around.
Once she’s out of sight, Haewon smacks your arm. “The hell was that for?”
“I saw your look back there,” she grunts. “Don’t even think about killing me.”
–
It’s one of the many nights that aren’t like the others, when you feel a shift in weight somewhere around your bed. You’ve trained for circumstances like these, sitting straight up and reaching out in the dark, grasping a firm part of the supposed intruder. They resist, until they’re flipped over and you’re hovering them, feel a small hand pressed to your sternum.
The hairs on your neck stand, and your mouth warps when you finally see who snuck into your room.
“It’s me,” whispers Yeji, finger to her lips. Her face, amazingly calm despite having your hand wrapped around her neck, curling your wrist. “If I wanted it, you’d be dead already.”
Your grip loosens, but now you’re just cupping her neck. “That’s my saying. Also what are you doing here? You should be sleeping since you’ll be out later today.”
“Why not? It’s not like we’re related or anything.”
“You’re missing the point.”
“Am I really?”
“Yes,” you hush. “When you took the oath, everyone you have a connection with should be seen as a loved one. Nothing more.”
“You say that but you act otherwise.” Yeji tells you, trying to break free from your grasp. Instinctually, you slide your hand down from her neck to her middle, pulling her close as you lean. She scoops under and flips the position where she’s on top and now you’re back on the bottom, falling to your chest, aware your fingers are glued to her.
She tries to pull herself out, but you reel her back in. “Ugh, can’t ever get enough of me, hm?”
“If I haven’t made it obvious enough.”
Yeji lets the thought of going out simmer in her mind, only to rest on your chest, smushing her face into the firm muscle. She relaxes, and so do you.
“Sleeping’s been difficult for me,” she breathes.
“How so?”
“I- I don’t know. Not since-” and Yeji doesn’t say anything more.
“It’s because of Lia’s condition,” you say, feeling dejected. “We haven’t had that since Jeongyeon and Mina’s incidents.”
“Those were pretty bad, in their own right.”
Definitely some truth to that statement by her, you know that for sure. The war itself has taken a toll on everyone. Your sword drenched in dark red, scent heavy with blood, soot on your face, but Yeji watched from afar; the devastating sight of terror. In your eyes, her reaction was justified. She was a steadfast figurehead in the tactics, unlike the brutal matters. She left that to you. If anything, she hasn’t deemed herself ready for a step up in the task.
(You’re certain with time, she’ll come to her own. Yeji’s been one to act on change if it feels right.
Whether she’ll like it or not, is up to her.)
“Not just them but-” her breath bundled in her throat. “It’s difficult to have that in mind when it could happen to us.”
“People are dying regardless,” you say. “Maybe because of us, or even when they have something- or nothing to fear. War could even be about hurting the other person more.”
“You’re not wrong, but I-”
“You haven’t seen-” you stop short, rethinking your choice of words, “-what some of us have gone through. Jihyo should’ve shown you more, like she has with me.”
“She should’ve.” Yeji agrees. “I should’ve.”
You breathe her in, pull her close. The wave of haziness grows heavier and heavier. Yeji’s hand wiggles into your hair, nestling her leg between your thighs. She kisses your neck, nuzzling her head back to where it was before sighing in relief, sleepy.
–
Much later, she’s the reason why you can’t sleep.
Only because she’s wrapped to your side more, curling her figure where she could appear to be straddling you. With a knee near her hips, and a hand ghosting her shoulder.
You could wake her up, or do nothing. Nudge her into consciousness so she can adjust comfortably - even keep her close so that she doesn’t leave at all. It kills you to do so; have faith that she could see you on a deeper level and gain her trust. You may be self-centered, egotistical. That’s the truth, and you’re swallowing your pride and pushing her down.
“Mmnh,” a moan murmurs in Yeji’s mouth.
But it’s in the slightest movement imaginable - similar to her shocked noise - you can’t second guess that. Soon, all your thoughts flood your mind, of the possibilities, solely focused on her. It’s defying, even freeing.
You’re too fucking sensible to mindlessly run into the fray. Go off the deep end with your ideas. You just have to be sure.
In the bend of your knee, you feel the cozy embrace at Yeji’s legs. Her breath hitches, fingers gripping the sheets, and you can sense the tension come to a halt in both of you. Neither of you move a muscle.
Stay. Stay here. All I ask, okay? You bite down the want to speak, in pleading. What you’d do in worshiping her. Please. Please.
All Yeji does: she looks up.
You’re far gone. “I love that look in your eyes.”
She’s still at your bracketing arms, burying her into your collar. “I don’t care about anything else. Please, I’m just- begging you to not-”
Her fingers find your jaw, calming you. She rises, bringing her face closer. “You could never hurt me.”
“It’s not that.”
“Then what is?”
“Aren’t you, well-”
“Afraid?”
Yeji smirks, flares her nostrils. “Kind of.”
The ends of her hair brush your skin, tickling. She guides your hand to her middle, right below her breast. Holding you for a moment - in assurance, or with a lasting impression. Neither of you are sure what’s to happen next.
“What would be your biggest regret?” You ask.
“It’d be you.”
You blink. “I don’t understand.”
Between rising breaths, you both move closer. Her nose bumps yours, eyes lidded. It’s close. So close, yet Yeji remains hesitant. “I- I don’t think you-”
Your breath tangles with hers, lips parted.
“You don’t even know.”
Ah, little does she know: you do. Of course you do. It’d be an endless scripture of how much you yearned for her. Siphoning up the very air you inhale until there’s an endless void in the center of your heart. She reduces you to nothing, leaving nothing behind. You’re only heartless because your life is beating through someone else. She should know it.
“Believe me,” you proffer taking her in, nose to her hair. “Do you have any idea? What you do?”
Yeji’s eyes match the cosmos, shimmering. You keep stargazing.
Till gravity says otherwise, by her own force, kissing you.
It’s open-mouthed, at first. Then it gets erratic - frantic even. She leans down while you’re doing your best to keep up, pulling her bottom lip and letting her pepper your face with kisses; to your cheek, then your mouth, anywhere she sees an opening.
Could you handle her? Let alone the rising beat of your heart claimed by her?
“I can’t begin to describe,” you sigh, slack-jawed and in pure awe. “How wonderful you are like this. My beautiful girl.”
Her fingernails graze your cheek, and you don’t give her another thought besides your lips. The hand to her waist a firm hold, leg pressed higher between her. It alters your brain a bit when the slightest whimper rumbles on her tongue.
She holds your leg still, rocking her hips back and forth gently. Yeji likes having control, until the urge to want more consumes her mind. Moving up to where her hips grind down your stiff cock, buried under the heat. Sighing blissfully, her neck opens up and you lave your tongue over it. Your fingers hang along the curve of her boob, but Yeji holds your wrist there.
You could stare at your hand later and memorize the mere detail of it: the softness of it, just a bit smaller to your hand, the fact it’s so easy to knead and how cute her slightly tanned nipples were. Grasping every other second.
You don’t even pay attention to her slick spreading across your thigh. That is, when she jolts her hips, clenching at the friction. The motion goes sloppy. Yeji’s face warps into something deterred, almost tantrum-like.
“Shh- shh. I’m here,” you coax, nose to her chin, and attentive. “What is it, hm?”
Yeji’s eyes flash in fear, uncertain. Like the temptation of lust is a cardinal sin (which it is) and she’s defying the one pledge she swore to keep. The idea of stopping and walking away from you is a plausible choice, but for all the wrong reasons.
The way she sits still repulses you. In retaliation, you skate her firm but with your thumb, lowering your head and catching the other with your teeth. You feel her pussy gush even more at the sensation.
She shrugs at your nose to her hair. “It’s okay, Yeji. You can tell me-”
“Don’t, you-” but her sentence is subsided by another whine, taking your hand and guiding it to her legs. And you can easily tell how damp her panties are, which inflates your ego much more than it should.
You’re exploring, mostly going by feeling rather direct hints. Gliding your fingers over her lower lips and her head bucks forward, huffing. It’s also another thing where you slip a digit inside and wiggle her clit on your thumb. Oh, it’s even more twisted when you’re smirking at her clawing hands - though it's worse when she sinks over your throbbing erection, gyrating her hips in a back and forth motion.
(This has to be a dream, right? Like- there’s surely no way you’re hearing these obscene noises from Yeji’s lips, spilling out from the warm flesh moulding at your touch, straight out of your fantasies from a hidden part in your mind. But her breath blows on your face, and the weight of her body is taking its toll on you.
And it does turn out: you’re not dreaming.)
She holds you tightly, much like she’s afraid to lose you. From below, you’re grinning into her marked up skin, high on the delightful sounds you’ve never imagined to be real.
Nothing lasts forever, evident of the piercing shriek soon to fall down to nothing. As for you, chasing that same high, too, coming undone to your own devices. Your hand snakes out of her pussy and back to her waist, holding her still. In addition to the comforting kisses left to her jaw and neck, moving up until a tangy distaste coats your lips.
“Yeji,” you’re echoing, softly. “Are you-” but to your shock, she looks remorseful, seen in her tears.
“Yeji,” you breathe. “Baby.”
Here she winces, throwing herself off to you and hiding away. It doesn’t help the deepening pit growing within, fearful of your heart being sucked away with regret. “Have we made a mistake, Yeji?”
She shakes her head. “No, it’s just me. I swear.”
“You can talk to me,” you whisper, pulling her closer.
“I’m sorry,” she says while turning around, clear threads streaming down but her face grows cross, pressed. “We both made a mistake tonight. I made a promise and I don’t want to ever dishonor it.”
Yeji has you stumped. Amidst the confusion mixed with anger, you don’t let this go. “To hell with your promise, love. You came on my fingers-”
“Enough.”
“This isn’t something you brush off. You wanted this.”
“So what?!” Yeji says aggressively. Part of you agrees with her, while the latter is still stuck from the moments prior. “We shouldn’t- we shouldn’t have-” Her lips close. “I made a lapse in judgement. And I really am sorry.”
“You-” is the last thing you sputter before your eyes are full of her figure, retreating away and into the hallway. The fingers are pressed firmly on your palm, still warm from Yeji’s slick. You plop back on the bed, breathe in the scent left by her as well. It doesn’t stop you from sniffling, or the tears seeping silently from your eyes.
The thing is: you actually don’t sleep for the rest of the night. You couldn’t afford to.
Not without this new discovery plaguing your mind.
–
Yeji made it her mission not to cross paths with you, but she fails. A literal impossibility, for that matter.
She can’t blame herself for having her room down the hallway, as one thing. It’s just- regardless of her efforts, you and her are knowingly tethered together.
About a week and a half passes since that night, where her temper got the best of her emotions from your unimpressed smirk, she drags you into a storage closet in the hall after dinner, right before a gathering-
“You piss me off,” she whispers to you between parted mouths, slick from kissing. “Please, don’t be mad at me. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry-”
The room may be dimmed but you’re sure she can see your smirk.
(Less than three days later, she’s squirting on your face in one of the many studies in the pavilions.
Here’s the more insane part: she slips your cock into her mouth just seconds after.)
Because you’ve learned this about Yeji: she can’t keep her word, ever. In the times where she shoves you off only to come back around. She’s losing, and not just with you, but her oaths, where she promised to herself, cursing in deprecation, words spilling like her slick.
She deduces that she can’t stop. Plus the evidence is substantial to back the claim up.
–
You and her go round and round, endlessly.
Oddly, it’s kind of poetically infinite.
–
You learn not long after: Tzuyu is on the same boat as you, sailing the similar troubles.
She doesn’t share much, but you’re aware her lover was a goddess named Sana.
Though unlike you: who vents their frustration on withered sacks of training dummies tied to a pole; Tzuyu channels it through scriptures, writing broken vows on soiled paper for it to be reduced as embers in a flame:
“she cradles my head so sweetly, even if it’s spoiled with her essence. when all i hear are her pants - as i lie still on her chest. i hate how quiet she is - even when she speaks passionate tongues - these declarations i give on her body, it grows exhausting at times.”
“the most damning part of it all?”
“i love her, but i worry she doesn’t feel the same.”
–
On the battlefield, Yeji’s your enemy.
You’re aware of the sudden chill in the tent when she walks in; acknowledging her presence with a look over the shoulder, see her lowered hood and turning the other cheek.
“Fighting me is pointless,” she tells you, pleasantries disregarded. “You underestimate the number stacked against you. Even Sullyoon said-”
“Chances are high, yes,” you say. “Optimistic from your part, I must say. But you have to realize, Yeji. You’re not one to steer away from the majority.”
“Sullyoon is a siren,” she relents. “Just like me. I chose to protect my heritage.”
“Then you really are lost.” You walk away, only for Yeji to stop you in your tracks. She stands her ground, looking you in the eye, determined.
“This is a mistake. You’re making a mistake. All because you got mad at me.” Yeji says. You flare your nostrils, pull a faint smirk. She knows very well that you’re not one to hold a grudge against her.
You then move a few locks of hair from her ear, caressing her neck. “Don’t be so melodramatic. We have differences today, but it’ll be a different story tomorrow. My devotion will be towards you, because in time, I’ll be the one protecting us.”
“You idiot.” Yeji cringes. “I find your ego agonizing. Taking pride in battles all because you ‘feel like it.’
Her eyes flutter when you lean down to kiss her. She pulls away, unsure. The soft look in her eyes stacked with a faint smile is all it took for her to crumble.
You know very well that she’s yours.
“No guarantees out there,” you whisper to Yeji, winking. “Protect yourself.”
Yeji’s face falls in dread when your back’s turned, watching you walk out of her sight.
–
(Very few things bring you joy to this world. Amongst gods and men, there’s no competition at all.
The thrills it blesses you:
How it’s fulfilling - piercing flesh with aged steel.
Hearing the wailing cries and then nothing. The heat blazing from above and the red spray baptising you with every offering by your blade.
It’s so, so terrifying, but beautiful, to you.
You can’t die, yet this vein-pumping sensation of excitement is the only thing you’ll ever get to feeling anxious - maybe even fearful.
Wondering how it would feel, for your life to end. To be a mortal-
Yes, well-
That isn’t even all of it.)
–
You search for Yeji, head so high you’re laughing with blood all over your face.
She stands in the center of corpses, flicking her sword to rid some of the muck off. Once you’re in her eyes, your smile drops. Her face goes grim - like she’s unsure of her actions. If anything, you can tell that she despises losing; Yeji never liked being below someone who wasn’t better than her.
Examining her sword, “What would this prove, hm?” she asks. “You being superior than me?”
“Depends,” you say with a calm tone. You pause when her chin tilts, and you grip your sword a lot more tightly.
You walk closer, stopping across from her, drenched in red like you were dunked in it. Safe to say that this domain was yours; and much more comforting than how it was on Olympus, where the only action was bickering in politics and lacking a real fight.
One part is deprived from you, etched deep in the open wound within your heart. A quest of yearning where it would’ve sent your mind into madness. Just for it to be in arms reach: the precious girl who completes you.
“Spare me your theatrics,” grits Yeji, displeased. “I’m not willing to hear your brash remarks about how good you feel.”
You laugh. “How cute.”
“It wasn’t funny.”
“I’m aware,” you smirk.
“Then why do you continue to spite me?”
“Because it’s an amazing feeling to gloat.”
Yeji huffs. “You could take it somewhere else.”
“I’d rather brag in front of you.” you then say.
Her eyes then dart in a different direction, mouth ticking upward. You step forward when she takes a step back, only to be backed into a nearby barrack, grazing the chipped wood mixed with dirt and soot. She doesn’t move when your bloodied hand holds her waist and shifts her over to a stack of hay bales. Yeji shakes her head while you’re humming with mirth.
“You have no shame,” she tells you, face locked with yours. Yeji sees you as some unrelenting storm, the purest sins from the depths of her mind come to life; the cardinal sin she keeps coming back to. You’ll have pride in those regards, since you were great in delivering where it matters most.
The knife cuts both ways, with all bad decisions in mind.
As long as the both of you belong to each other.
“Are you saying I’m careless?”
“Have you seen your face in battle?"
Her forehead taps yours, eyes drooping. “For the record, I take great care in combat,” you answer, fingers skating the fabric on her thighs. “The fray is always enjoyable if you go headfirst.”
“Enjoyable? Do you hear yourself? People are still dying.”
“Maybe,” you remark airily, meeting her lips. “They are, and we’re not.”
Yeji’s brows crease, ready to retort, though you don’t give her a chance with another sweep of her mouth. She lets her body go loose, sliding her hand to your neck and angling up. Your hand slips under her gown, grazing the top of her thigh.
Though your hand is already close to the familiar space in between. Luring you in with its heat, and she helps you get a better view below. “Please,” she whispers, almost scared even, remembering her oath. “Don’t-”
You kiss her jaw, hard. As if to make a statement - a point. “I need you, Yeji.”
“You know we can’t.”
“I know.” You cared, but didn’t all the same. She bites her lips at the feeling of yours, nose brushing her skin atop her breast. “Let me have this- have you.”
Yeji pulls away, gazing still. It doesn’t help with your nervousness, what you need to do. Closing her eyes, and moving her legs apart.
You can share the shame with her, greedily or regretfully. She’ll forget about it in a moment.
Without any warning, you curl her folds, not quite slilpping in yet. Yeji hisses at this, clawing your arm while you thumb her clit. She whimpers a bit too loudly, and you’re smothering her lips by yours.
“Everything besides your mind says otherwise,” you harshly say, nibbling a patch of her jaw. Her whole body twists and bends to your hands, twitching. “How much you badly need this.”
“No, I-” she stutters, nearly heaving. “I’m not-”
“Liar.” You say with your sinking fingers to her squelching cunt, pinching down your thumb to not sate the ache she so desperately craves. Her eyes are no where to be seen, arching her back, chest forward and opening. “You’d let me.”
“I fucking don’t-”
“Wrong answer,” you grit. Pushing your fingers deeper, past the first knuckle with her legs clamping you. You could feel more slick pooling on your palm. “Don’t be in denial.”
“Baby-”
That’ll inflate your ego. “Ah ah, Yeji.”
She snaps: “I fucking need you, okay?!” Her cry is in front of the circle of mutilated bodies. “How much more do I have to say it-”
Her cunt quivers on your fingers, chasing that everlasting high. She’s got her breasts out from her gown, your tongue treating to a nipple and her entire body trembles. Yeji’s stomach bucks and bucks and bucks-
Then your hand slips out.
“No. No.” She gasps, reaching out to your hand. Instead of going for your help, she tends to it with her own fingers; though you hold her wrists tightly when she gets between her legs. As evil as you are: licking the slick clean from your digits, eyes full of a desperate Yeji clouded with unbridled want. “You can’t just- please. I beg of you-”
“Keep your hand there,” you say dryly.
Yeji’s eyes flash in fear.
“Lie down,” you instruct, pushing Yeji up the seat. “Relax for me.”
Thankfully, she was able to take the hint: lifting her knees while you’re traversing downward. You give a chaste kiss to her inner thighs, brush the end of your nose on the nub, smirk in content when she tries her hardest to stay still. She’ll give you shit for being such a tesae, licking her up like a poor kitten on her leaking slit, how her hand claws into your scalp, but that’s all the more reason to bury your face deeper. You absolutely love it. Yeji knows it too.
Your tongue moves all over her as it pleases. “You taste so good,” you praise. “I could clean you up for days. You have no idea.”
Keening, Yeji slips her fingers deeper into your locks, nails grazing your scalp - stirring your mind. She doesn’t need to say much - if anything at all. With so much above her to consider, she knows you won’t bend a knee, even when you could.
Where your hands are at the plush of her ass, pressing your tongue deep inside. You treat yousrelf to her sensitive folds, the sweet pucker beneath, sip her down like wine, and you imagine it. Every sigh a relief - sounds of affection never to be spoken - and her moans a passionate refrain.
(You can’t help but think of Tzuyu’s words: because you relate to them so much.)
You’ve got her close to cumming like this, hanging on a thread. In all the humming and grind of your nose to her clit, she can’t pick whether to sputter nonsense or hiccup an incoherent sentence. Her heel digs into your back, the inner press of her thighs crushing your head, but you groan into it, hold her convuilsing figure down as a punishment.
She has to take the licks, pushing your head away for fresh air when she’s legitimately shaking. Hands going haywire and you need much more than the sweet ambrosia leaking out of her. Which is why you’ve never been fast to undo your pants-
Yeji notices and panics, propping up on an elbow. “No! The oath-”
“I’m just,” you huff, stroking the length. “Gonna be like this, I promise.”
Deep down, you wished to be proper and make it right: slipping inside her hot, warm cunt. Yeji rubs herself to you while you’re about to spill, vision going foggy with every impasse-
You cum right then and there, all over her, spurting on her legs and right above her soaked pussy.
It’ll be the closest you’ll ever get to cumming in her.
Yeji sits up, apologietic. Fingers skating up the cum left by you. Her lips swollen, cheeks in a rosy shade, gown undone and exposing her breasts, legs still spread apart and coated in white. Debauched is one way to describe it, thoroughly fucked is close, but you’ll never get past the last hurdle.
Because you and her didn’t actually fuck.
“Hey,” she huffs, worried. “Look at me. Look at me, please.”
“It’s alright,” you say, meeting her lips. Some of the dried up crimson chipping away on your face. You pinch her thigh until she giggles into your mouth. She could taste the anxiousness of your tongue. “I’ll be back for that.”
She fixes her hair while you gather your things, smiling before turning the shoulder. Yeji adjusts her appearance the more you walk away. You still feel the rush, the imaginary high turned into reality: marking her as yours, just like you wished.
Although it isn’t. No. You and Yeji have done this countless times and it still feels like you’ve come up short.
It’s a sinking feeling. One that you hate for eating away at you.
–
Boundaries shift, war rages on. And no matter which side, power always finds a head to rest upon. That’s the true nature of humans in this wretched world.
This could be written as a prophecy - a story within itself: you and Yeji, bound by an invisible string of fate, always standing at the end of every skirmish imaginable.
You see it not as a blessing, but as a curse.
–
After dinner in the grand hall, you’ve got Yeji pinned against the pillars away from the group, glistening thighs parted, and head facing up while you’re attacking her neck.
You couldn’t deny how ravishing she looked, which is all the more reason to sneak away with her when you had the chance. Given the fact that her form-fitted dress was exposing all the curves at once. Yeji came off a bit hostile, kindly indulging in a light-hearted conversation with you and never escalating it past that. It only took one look; and within minutes, sheltered away from the lights, hand slipping into her dress, and circling back to the current dilemma.
She twiddles a few ends of your hair, breath irregular when the head of your cock rubs her clit, spreading her sopping folds.
It’s close enough to your liking, and the pleasure is aching. You longed to push past that brink, have her walls cling to you like a vice, make her feel full, but she refused. She won’t. She can’t. She’s loyal by the rules to a fault and compensates it for making it up in other ways, determined to stay true.
Here is where you and her are different. You’ve been honorable to listen to her wishes whether you liked it or not.
“Make it quick,” she whispers, breath hot on your face. You look over to hear the clamors of cheers and laughter behind - the implication still apparent.
“What’s wrong with not hurrying?” You grin. “Worried you’ll lose your oath with a sister catching us like this?”
“You- ah- that’s not, oh-”
You roll your hips forward, grinding into the friction. Her head falls loose, jaw slacked. “I really could, y’know. Just push myself inside you and- fuck. It would be so easy, Yeji. It’s amazing to think. Look at how wet you are. How much you want my cock.”
Yeji leans back when you brace her to the wall, thrusting forward and up with your face at her neck. Like you’re fucking into her. You bite her throat and soothe it with your tongue, feeling her body seize up when the feeling gets too much - pressing her legs together and claiming your cock as her own. She’s getting there again: that feeling she knows all too well to the point she won’t keep quiet. You wonder if the others can hear you nearby.
Your fingers form a ‘V’ around her cunt and cock. Hushing into her ear, when she’s slicked over your hand, biting down on your shoulder to muffle the screams wanting to be let out.
She cries, shaking and jerking. “Stay with me,” you coax, holding her still. “Don’t fight it.”
Yeji bobs her head, a yes is what you get from it. Her cunt over your shaft is just too damn good, and you’re sighing: “God, Yeji. I’m gonna ruin you, girl. I swear-”
Coming back to her senses, Yeji reminds you: “Not inside. Don’t even think about it.”
“It’s tempting, this cunt of yours.”
“I told you.”
“I know, I know,” you say, thumb to her lips. “Maybe your face? Or your tits-”
“Is that really what you want?”
To your twisted desires: yes.
But you’ll make do, licking her bottom lip while her eyes roll back. Soon you’re gently rubbing your thumb over them. Yeji goes the extra step, sucking down on your finger, and it hits you: “Your mouth, Yeji. Are you okay with that?”
Yeji dazes off for a moment, but she snaps out of it. “Huh?”
“Is that fine? You can tell me no-”
“It’s okay,” she says, easing her breath. Her knees sink, lowering down to the floor. You gander the same way as well when she wraps a hand to your shaft, bringing it to her lips. She swipes the underside a few times - breathes you in. Watch as the tip slips through those pouty lips, sliding like she already knew how to make your legs shake. The most warming thing she does is look up with lidded eyes, shining with want, and you pray she’d have a change of heart, making you choke on your pride.
Soon you’ve got your hand to her luscious locks, fisting with intent when she spits on your cock. Head falling further and further back with euphoria subsiding your rage.
Yeji bobs her head down, and up. Rucks the inside of her cheek to your thick tip. “Mmrf?”
“Yeji, sweetheart,” you coo. “Fuck. That’s incredible."
–
“You’re a prick. You know that?” Ryujin snaps at you when you’re walking back to the hall. All you do is smirk at the backhanded compliment.
“Yeah? What of it,” you say carelessly.
“Are you that much of a dumbass to pretend you don’t know what I mean?” She spits, pushing you out of spite. “Everyone here can see through your heinous intentions and you’re just drunk on your own benefits. Taking Yeji away from the group so you could do- unspeakable things?! Do you know what they’ll do to her if they find out she broke the oath? You selfish, heartless, little bitch. I hope you didn’t-”
“Fuck her?”
That only made Ryujin’s temper flare even more. “You’re the fucking problem around this land. I can’t believe-”
“Wouldn’t you like to know what it was like? Tasting her lips?”
Ryujin grabs your neck and shoves you into the wall. Finger to your lips, but you’re smiling. “You can take that shit to your grave. I’m not having any of it.”
“Don’t you want to know what it was like? Having her undressed?” You ask, reveling in the madness. “Her mouth so sweet like nectar, body so hot until she’s sinking to her knees when I make her cum-”
“I can’t believe you’re saying this out loud,” Ryujin huffs.
“She’s lovely with a pink blush on her face, by the way. Clinging to me when she’s all fucked out of her mind. Oh, Ryujin. It’s so lovely.”
“You’re insane,” she grits. Her eyes lock with yours, visualizing what would never be hers. You chuckle, lifting your hands up when she releases her grip to your chiton.
“Do you want to know why? Why Yeji, of all people?”
Ryujin balls her fist, unwilling to give an answer.
“You, or anyone else would never understand. How much she means to me. That day, when I found her alone on the battlefield, crying her eyes because she was so lost. It changed something in me.”
Ryujin huffs at you, gaze cross. You don’t expect her to say anything. She won’t tell on you, maybe. That’s for her to decide; the grudge she wants to carry.
She could be right with everything.
–
The temple glows with ambient lighting when you reach the top steps.
It’s been hours since the last procession. Most of the clerics have already returned to the monastery, leaving gifts at the shrine. Basked in the moonlight, her golden statue, it’s a sight to behold.
This was the last place you should be in.
She knows this. You know it.
Yet you can’t ignore the change in pressure - as if someone was stalking you from afar, waiting for the right moment to strike.
“You don’t have to hide,” you say aloud, facing forward. “If my opponents wanted it so badly, I would’ve been dead already.”
Yeji walks out from the tall shadow behind the monument, skin beautiful in white and in all its elegance. “Would death be the answer to all your problems, though?”
“Depends,” you say. “Who’s willing to test me.”
Neither of you speak a word after, aware of the tension thick in the air. You look in her eyes, now unsure why you even thought of coming here. This was the perfect place to meet, hide away in the night, kiss her with the stars above, and the thought of reciting adorable tongues to her pussy till she breaks was enough for you but-
Tonight felt much different than the others.
Haewon is the moon’s descendant, but no one shines brightly beneath it like Yeji. Like a fairy brought to life, willing to grant your every wish.
“Why are you here?” Yeji asks.
You blink, swallowing the guilt. It’s pointless. You have to speak up now or else-
“I love you,” you proclaim, it’s needy and irritating your throat, but it’s finally out. “I love you. Yeji.”
Yeji panics, stepping closer, making sure no one else hears your declaration. “What are you doing? You-”
“It hurts me, y’know?” You say. “I really do love you. Much to the point where it’s eating my brain away and like you’re shoving a knife down my chest every time we’re like this. As much as we try to ignore- everything. I hate how we’re like this, when we could be more.”
Yeji’s expression is full of remorse, and hurtful. She can’t hide the emotions held deep within - not with her heart full of life and spreading everywhere outside her being. The fact she says you’re greedy while she holds two hearts in her hands. You’ve never had a heart your entire life; that is, until it’s standing right across from you, beating proudly, nearly breaking.
“You have the same feelings as well, right? Surely you have.” Your hand finds her face, wiping away a tear. Yeji makes you wince in her presence because that’s the effect she has around people. “I just- I just want to hear it. Just this one time and we’ll never speak of it again. I’ll never talk to you again. You won’t have to be put on trial for it, or executed. If you want me to leave you alone, I’ll do that too. Please, Yeji. It’s all I want from you. All I have left-”
“You knew I can never say those words,” she tells you, sniffling.
“And why is that, hm?!” You quietly exclaim. Her face is dangerously close - to where your noses meet. You want her crying, begging, on her knees like the good girl she could be for you, but you know that won’t make anything better. “Why is it that- we can’t be together? If you don’t have sex, the oath stands. Mother won’t find out, either. You can’t say three simple words to express your feelings?”
“It’s not that easy for me,” says Yeji.
“I love you. My heart. My love. My everything-”
Yeji hides her face but you pick it back up, kissing her cheek and pulling her close. That would never be enough, so you kiss her again: from her lips to her neck, her collarbone and down at her chest, until you’re on your knees - proffering your lips for a greater cause. You hold her by the hips and feel her stomach buck, the sobbing seeping through her lips as well. From both of you.
“This is all that I am,” you mutter into her stomach. “I’m meant to love you. I love you to death that it fucking hurts.”
This pantheon is filled with the mix of sobbing and loose prayers. She holds your head to her middle while covering her mouth, realizing how this is killing her too.
–
(Neither of you say another word to each other after, but the message is clear: How can I make you love me?
Her answer could’ve been the solution to all your issues. If Yeji were to deem it true.
Except it never becomes the truth.
Yeji’s calling is much greater than your measly purpose.)
–
When the horizon is broken by the rising sun. You feel Yeji still wrapped in your embrace, face to your chest. You bury your nose in her hair, and kiss her hairline.
Only to remember she hasn't been the same since that night.
(age difference, public sex, dirty talk, cheating, self-depreciation, academic stuff, roundabout romance, stupid actions, bottom stuff idfk im just down bad, fluff, smut?, more cast cameo variety here [just like last time], pt.1!!!!)
“Excuse the random call on your schedule,” Karina says on your afternoon stroll. “I’ve been seeing you for a month and half and I feel like an idiot not bringing you over once.”
“Oh!” You yelp, heart double-beating. “I mean it’s- you never mentioned or even asked me prior. Why do you sound dejected?”
“Because I’m stupid. I’ll pick you up?”
Your mind’s already made up without a second thought, chewing on your lip. “Yes please.”
“Does right now sound better?”
“I thought you were working?”
“I worked five days nonstop last week so they were nice to give me the day off. A pretext for being the first contact if something goes to shit, so go figure I guess.”
“Sucks.”
“I know.” Karina sighs dismissively. “Where are you on campus?”
“Near the science building. Walking.”
“Wait for me there. I’ll scoop you up at the drop off zone.”
“Waiting,” you say in a sweet tone.
“Good,” says Karina, but the line hasn’t gone cold. You wonder if she forgot about the call, and you see the timer still increasing until she adds, cutely: “Can’t wait to see you.”
She hangs up before you could utter a response.
–
Thirty minutes of switching between socials and fiddling the phone is a good way to pass time. Until Karina’s car pulls up and she opens the door, grinning with sunglasses on her head. “Hi.” She greets, smiling. You haven’t got used to the red leather seats of her car yet.
“Hi,” you’re saying back, cringing inside how dumb she makes you act. Karina however, knows the effect she has on people- on you.
“So,” she says, chuckling. Leaning in her seat and putting the car forward. You watch her hands move the wheel with such finesse - one handed and everything. “Class went alright?”
“Just a lecture. Nothing significant to report.”
“Lecture on what?”
“Eh, perhaps the challenging undertones presented at different stages from a sociological standpoint.” You say casually, freezing after. “I don’t think you’d want to hear that- uh, I mean- at least how I’m explaining it-”
Karina’s side eye makes you inhale a smile; gears winding inside her head. “Productive lesson it is.”
Your palm’s to the ceiling. “The topic itself is stretched across two lectures. Apparently they mentioned a guest speaker coming next month to discuss it. Said she focuses on psychotherapy and that already sounds interesting when the time comes.”
“Who’s the guest speaker?” Karina asks. “Now you got me wondering who they invited.”
“They didn’t say.” You smirk at Karina’s willingness to know more. Chaewon, at times, blocked you out entirely - when she felt needed to. “Enough about me. Anything happened at work this past week?”
Karina scrunches her nose. “Well, we almost called the wrong time of death for a rolled-in trauma patient; had a bullet wound in his head and the metal was cascading into the brain if it wasn’t treated right away. They even had the audacity to make him a donor since he wasn’t responding.
“Jesus,” you gasp. “Did you guys-”
“Thanks to me. My coworker’s on the hospital’s shitlist after the stunt he pulled.”
“You mentioned that they were brought on board very recently. To already have them cut off doesn’t look right.”
Karina lifts her brow. “I already did.”
–
When you see where Karina lives, you can’t stop looking from the sunroof.
“Really? Here?!”
She laughs at you, turning into a driveway and placing the car in her designated spot. Once out, she watches you gawking - your neck at a complete right angle looking up. “I wouldn’t be surprised,” you say, breathless, “Seriously, this place is-”
“I know,” Karina shrugs as she takes your hand. She greets the green-dressed woman with a bob-cut standing under the awning and enters inside. Everything in the foyer is spacious and looks to be ready for a backdrop at a movie shoot. Not to mention the lift to Karina’s floor- which didn’t even feel like a lift at all. Down the hallway and the door into Karina’s estate, it didn’t stop there. You’re gagged - eyes wide as an entrée plate. Karina giggles with a scrunch. “Expecting something more grand?”
“You and I have a different idea for a high-rise apartment.”
“Coming from someone who could be the head of the state.” You tell her, in trade with a baffled look.
Karina grins behind her finger, “Depends on how you define the term ‘high-rise’.”
That said, her place isn’t exactly glamorous like you initially thought, but it was still a decent spot in the city. Most of the space has been occupied with modern furnishings, let alone the flatscreen floating over the fireplace. A moon pit couch dressed in a rich, green shade, recently bought it seems.
You walk around and look up, spin on your toes. “You haven’t eaten, right?” Karina asks you from the kitchen, “I’ve got some bites from yesterday’s lunch.”
“What’s on the menu?”
“Some exotic spot, catered too,” she says, walking with an open container in her hands. “My supervisor Jisoo recommended it to the other members on the floor and we got it. Go on, it’s pretty good.”
You pout, accepting the offer, hand in Karina’s on the way back to the couch. Your legs stretch out and the cushion molds beneath your thighs. Karina puts both legs over yours, schooching closer.
A spoonful goes to your mouth, and you offer the utensil back to Karina, to which she refuses. “You don’t want any?”
“I already had some earlier.”
“How early?”
“Like on-break-at-my-work early.” Karina answers and you hum and unimpressive noise, but you feed her a scoop with a smile before taking the rest away.
A thought sparks in your head: “What do you mean by, you already did?”
“Hm?”
“About that new coworker who almost shit the bed in the ER. I mentioned that you should give them another chance to redeem themselves but you said that already happened.”
“With the new hires,” Karina scratches her head, slightly embarrassed. “I suppose there’s more power to my word compared to the other seasoned surgeons there.”
“What makes you say that?”
Karina looks at the blank television. She inhales sharply, “My mom’s in charge of the board.”
That’s something you didn’t know about her: “You profited the easy way up.”
“Something like that. Though- ugh. I signed up there along with all the other top places in the city. My mom isn’t even involved in the freaking hiring process.”
“Though she must’ve done something to get you in, no?”
“Connections can benefit those who take advantage,” drawls Karina.
“Shit.” You sigh. Then again, it shouldn’t even come as a revelation. Privilege is a concept you’re very familiar with. Gaeul’s family was regal throughout high school, and Momo’s a trust fund baby traveling the world, working on an island without any debts. The realm of wealth has orbited in your life for as long as you could remember.
Maybe Karina isn’t like the others, the way she bears this cross on her own. It’s not for recognition nor praise. For one, she’s got a decent closet, but her attitude negates the appearance altogether. She views the world differently when one has deep pockets.
That kind of wealth is something you know little about, too.
You sigh. “Are you the only one in your family focusing on medical?”
“My sister-” Karina pauses, pondering on her choice of words, “-step-sister, actually. She’s one. And my uncle was a pharmacist for a while before he decided to switch endeavours to things more worth his time.”
“What kind are we talking about?”
“He went into freelance photography. Bless him.”
“So is medicine the common thread in your lineage?”
Karina cackles, the hand on belly kind. “Not really. My parents wanted me to find something fun, and seeing how it played out with Ningning - my stepsister, by the way - they gave me full support in whatever I wanted.”
“Why medicine?”
She swallows another piece of the soft, lukewarm dumplings. “It was appealing to me back in high school. After graduating, I was undecided whether or not to pursue it fully. Then my uncle’s coworker at the time convinced me to keep going.” Karina explains, face brightening up the more she talks. “I thought about it for a long while and went: okay, why the hell not? And I stuck with it.”
You’re amazed by the mere simplicity of it. Karina gazes into your eyes - seeing a sliver of her younger self. “Look at you now.” You coo, lips pursed. “Especially at your age. I wish I did something like that for myself.”
“It isn’t all that,” she shrugs, chuckling. “Working to get the education covered in high school was a bit draining. Though, it made more sense considering med school was going to take up most of the time anyway.”
“I admire your thinking,” you say. “I admire how you go about your life. Your mind. Just-”
You. The thought makes you wince. Tugs on the heartstrings a little more harshly. Like you’re yearning, longing. The idea of you. You. All of you.
It’s damning to admit. So you won’t. That’s not the reason why you’re here.
“-how you figured all that out,” you say instead. It stings silently after. “I wish I had that for my story, pfft.”
“Ah, you’re fine,” comforts Karina. Grin spreading across her face, veneers brighter than her fair skin. As smart as she is, it’s rare for her to be dense for a second. “I can tell you the tale about how my roommate and I got locked in my department’s building for a night or two.”
–
You knock on the door of Karina’s study hours later. “Is this a bad time?”
“Not at all,” you hear her answer on the other side, muted into the wood. “Come on in.”
When you swing the door slowly, you’re hesitant; as if you’re intruding a space you have no right stepping in. The office itself is nice (just like the rest of the freaking house). In the middle was a desk with all assorted items like the desktop, files, the cup full of different pens. On the side is a bookshelf with thick spines and marked in names you’ve never seen before. A couch on the opposite end with a thick duvet next to the armrest. If she ever needed to nap, she wouldn’t have to go far.
Karina smiles at you with her glasses. A relief for her case - considering she’s been essentially locked up here in a call for the past hour or so, probably more. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah, I just wanted to check in on you.” You answer, standing behind the chair, arms to her chest.
“It’s past eight.” Karina realizes on her desktop, squinting. “You should probably eat something.”
“I’d say the same for you.”
“Can’t. I’ll join you once I get through this last stack of files.”
“And I’m telling you to take a break,” you tell her, locking your arms. She shifts over so you’re half sitting on the edge, carding fingers into her hair. Her face looks tired - you could see it in the eyes alone. “Five minutes is all I ask. Maybe ten.” Karina hums low, looking up, wisps of hair falling at the front and her arms at the sides, exhausted. A mere luxury to see her like this. Your lip slightly quivers because of it.
“I’m telling you,” she says, “No.”
“Five minutes,” you repeat.
“These binders aren’t gonna be cleared themselves. This stack on the desk should be the last of them.”
“You can do that right after,” you’re saying. Knees in the space of hers and cupping her nape. “I want three minutes of your time.”
“Three minutes is all I need for one binder.” Karina muses.
“Also enough time to have a few bites of leftovers.” You reply back.
“I can eat later.”
“You don’t even want your beef broccoli?”
To that, Karina stifles a laugh, hands around your bottom thighs. “If I can work through these, we’ll have a late night munch somewhere. Sound good?”
Your lips fall flat. To be fair, you’re not asking for much - not the presence or the lovely meal treat. You were never one to reinforce bad behavior to get what you want or the attention along with it. If anything, you just want to be seen; a preferred approach would be Karina to think more than just herself.
Karina gets up thanks to you, thumb dancing along her jaw. She leans down and kisses you, slowly. Each peck matching a step backward, unknowingly pulling her away from the desk and to the couch. You take the chance to gander down her slender neck.
“Couch,” you beg, quietly. “For a few minutes.” To that, she complies, spinning around and sinking onto the cushions beneath. She exhales, dispersing breaths racked in her chest, eyelids lidded, fluttering; you dip down again to her neck, visible tension at the lines of her shoulders.
She knows the untapped power you possess, carding your fingers through her hazel locks. Karina doesn’t flinch when you lay your palm flat over her crotch, feel her mouth go slack. You grin at that.
“You’ve got a taste of me,” you whisper. “More than once, but I never got the chance to return the favor.”
“It’s always better to hear you cry than have your fingers buried in me. Though, I won’t stop you,” Karina chortles, but the tone of her voice sounds unsure, sealing her own fate.
You can’t ignore the throbbing between your legs, hopping on Karina’s lap and kissing her once more, panting down on her tongue as she helps you fiddle with the bottom buttons of her shirt - her pants. She tenses up even more, clawing your thighs and nearly tearing skin.
“Baby,” you chant the pet name, it could drive her insane. “You deserve to.”
Karina tilts her chin, eyes unwilling to meet at first, but soon locked with yours. Behind hers is the unrelenting desire of taking, selfishness would be an understatement.
“If you let me,” you’re saying, lowly, between begging and desperation, “You won’t regret it.”
She bobs her head on reflex, then repeats the same motion firmly: there’s your answer.
Your fingers hook her pants and you pull them down as you kneel.
The shudders her body makes when you lazily kiss her waist, fingers sliding up her thighs, the fabric of her panties tethered to her skin. You could spot the damp spot at the center - the evidence caused from you; she tenses at the mere hush of your breath over her core - you haven’t met anyone that’s wanted you this badly.
Karina opens her shirt more as you slip her out of her panties, your face gets warmer. Glistening folds consuming your view, tongue coating with the first slow licks. You grin at the twitch in her hips, pepper her cunt with more kisses, and she fights against the press of your hands on her thighs, burying your mouth.
You keep pace, see what responds to most. Sucking on her clit, slipping a finger or two inside her walls; even the subtle drag of your nails to her legs. She doesn’t offer you a moment to breathe, pulling your head back in, humming at her hot core - the grip in your scalp enough to be ripped off.
“Oh- oh my christ-” moans Karina. “Like that. Honey, just like that-”
She digs her heel into your collarbone, to help compensate for the three-digit-curl you got buried in her pussy. Nose to her clit, lapping up the slick as she comes down. Karina seethes as her eyes fall on you - the sight of licking your lips enough to make her lose it on the sofa.
It’s a tumble from a kick of the foot, Karina straddling you with your wrists pinned above your head. “That’s the only one off you’ll get,” she sneers wickedly, the corner of her mouth twitching with power. “Now it’s my turn.”
Somehow you’ve kept yourself calm, ignoring the pulse between your legs with her knee brushed up in the space. You try to break free from her grasp, only to fail. She meets you with another desperate kiss, sliding your pants down and ripping your panties off. Every move Karina does is a practical vice: clutching every bit of you and with no chance to resist. Your shirt is next to be slipped out, and her hot mouth adds on to the rising heat on your chest.
You wince as she pinches a nipple, clawing your breast. “I love every part of you,” she breathes. Dipping down to your collar. Her hand pushes your leg, spreading you open. Fondling.
The ache is unbearable. You need her to satiate it.
Karina hushes into your ear, coaxing. “Shh, shh. I’ve got you. What do you need? Tell me.”
“Karina,” you gasp, “God, please.”
“I’ll give it to you,” she whispers back. “If you want me.”
You nod feverishly as she palms your cunt. As soon as the press of her thumb nubs the entrance, your gut tightens like it’s ready for a punch. “Look at you, all ready for it.”
“You- fucking-”
“Oh, I know darling.” She says into your shoulder, finding that sweet spot she discovered a while back. “It isn’t enough anyway.”
Karina loves doing this - while you’re clenching around her fingers. You grab her hand and she groans, curling two digits inside. She licks the tears weeping out at the corners, reveling in adoration.
“Deliberate little girl,” she praises, looking down at the motion of her fingers spreading you open. “Love having you like this; having you clamp my hand-”
“Yes,” you agree, mind and body twisted to the touch.
She doubles down on the rubbing, clashing tongue and teeth with you as your whole body goes slightly limp from the stimulation. It’s everything you’ve wanted - dreamed of - cumming with no reprieve and yelling at the top of your lungs. Karina’s three fingers and thumb press at your clit makes you cum again in no time.
You lean up weakly to kiss her, taste the salt on her taste buds and suck up her mouth once the pleasure’s all washed away, in thanks. You’re thankful she could make you feel like you’re in heaven and it goes way beyond just the sex. The nook in your brain is occupied by her, and only her.
“Very lovely of you,” sighs Karina, licking your chin, eyes lidded like she’s the one cumming now. “One more, for me.”
She places her hand in the same spot as you bracket her hips, building the same pace in her fingers as before. “Hold me- just like this, just like-”
Then she pauses, failing to register the ear-piercing squeal ringing the glass and her eardrums by you. Her other hand pressing firmly on your bottom lip, feeling the gush of your pussy on her fingertips.
“Sorry,” Karina says first, hesitant. “I’d keep going, but I’ll kill you in the process.”
Your fingers curl around her hand, pushing in deeper. She drops a confused look over you. “Why not?”
She scowls at the clench. “You’re asking for it, aren’t you?”
“Who says I am? It’s just the reaction.”
Karina’s eyes shimmer with a renewed fire, sparked with intent. “I’ve never failed in achieving all the things I’ve sought out to do. Because I knew I could do it. You’re not safe either because there’s things I want involving you too, right?”
Oh fuck. Your mouth quirks, without the sound airing the words. “Why don’t you prove it-”
She’s quick to scoop you up from the floor, arms hoisting you by the ass. “I’m gonna make you cum again, but I need you to sit on my face first.”
You laugh heartily as Karina rushes down the hall to her bedroom, the laughing progressively getting louder deep in the apartment.
–
Yunjin calls you once the cooler, autumn air starts to prick at the tips of your ears. Her name on the phone screen and you’re dancing with the idea of not answering, but for another time: “Hi, Jen.”
“Cousin.” Yunjin greets that isn’t a hello. “Are you busy right now?”
“Class got dismissed,” you drawl, smirking. “On my way home actually.”
“Usually you’re with one or two people if I recall.”
“I mean, yeah?” You answer. “Not today since everyone’s out within speed dial.”
“Even the two girls who look like top models for the MET gala?”
“Wonyoung? Or Yujin?” You remark. “That’s a cute compliment, but they’re also focusing on their own studies. Even when they’re not putting the dating title to themselves, yet.”
“What about you? Are you doing the same thing?”
You stop short. It shouldn’t mean much, anyway. Knowing Yunjin, she’d ask depending on the importance. You’re hoping the safe answer would be enough to suffice: “I don’t have time for lovey dovey stuff.”
“You said that last time.”
“Yet you’re asking me again.” You dart back. “I would’ve brought it up as the first thing if that were the case, especially since the holidays are around the corner.”
“The occasion doesn’t technically apply to this conversation.”
“Jen, we all have things that aren’t worth sharing.”
“I wasn’t even prying to begin with. It was just making sure you’re not sulking around being lonely.” Her voice rises aggressively. “Jeez, listen to the intonation.”
You wince, stopping at the top of the stairway onto the main street from campus. “Sorry, I just wanted to know why the sudden inquiry.”
“You’re doing the same thing again: not texting or calling me back. I assumed that you were busy getting your life in place that wasn’t just talking to auntie Sakura.”
“This grad program is the ticket to my dream life, Yunjin.” You say, voice soft and with a scrunch of your nose. “Things have been a bit- hectic, recently.”
“I’ve figured.” Yunjin replies before the call gets muted - which you can only assume that she was still at work and typically on break around this time. “By the way, auntie said she can’t make it up for the weekend. Plus I’m gonna be busy well into the break, so there’s a high chance we won’t see each other.”
It was always work, that’s the excuse. Yunjin’s been like this since your high school days. You’ve tried to pry every now and then, but it would always end with Yunjin hanging you out without an answer. “Finals are coming up anyway, plus the supplementary courses are taking a toll as it is.”
“But we always see each other for thanksgiving since you got to college.”
“It’s just one of those times where it doesn’t work out, I get it.”
“You’re sure there isn’t anything fishy going on with you?”
“There isn’t, Jen.” you into the phone. “If there was, you would’ve been the first to know.”
(A part of you cares, but the rest could be disregarded. You think Yunjin would be concerned for having the same feeling hidden within as well.)
Yunjin sighs. “If you do call me, I’ll answer right away. I hope you remember that.”
You stare down Yunjin’s name and contact photo, looking up with a weight off your shoulders.
–
A few days later, the doorbell gets your attention. You swing the door open with the heater running and there’s-
Wonyoung.
She stands across with folded arms, her prime resting bitch face for you to see. “Am I like your cousin now?”
“What?”
“You haven’t been getting back to me,” she accuses, walking past you with the trail of Tiffany & Co. wafting behind. She slips out of her trench coat and sets her bag down on the counter. “Spill,” Wonyoung demands. “I need to hear everything she did.”
“Wony, what the fuck.”
“Don’t ‘what the fuck’ me. Ms. "I'm hooking up with my older-rich-secret-girlfriend’.”
You’re left astounded. Wonyoung usually has that effect on people. “Look, I can explain-”
“I let it slide for the past few weeks or so,” says Wonyoung. “But putting your phone on perma DND - without giving me a heads up? That shit doesn’t fly by me.”
You nod. “So that’s what this is about. I didn’t even realize-” you’re checking the calendar app, ensuring her point adds up. “Oh shit. Wonyoung, I- oh no, I’m so sorry-”
To your assumptions, you have been closing yourself off from the others. Wonyoung’s messages on the left side occupy the whole screen. Messages from your best friend. Besides her, Karina was only the other person (and auntie Sakura on occasion) you’ve kept your time open to; when you brush over the last conversation with her, it was about exchanging-
Hm.
“Fuck,” you huff, head full of disappointment, taking Wonyoung’s hands and pulling her towards the couch. “Wonyoung, I’m so fucking sorry. I’ve been meaning to tell you, Yujin, fucking Miyeon- hell, anybody about my recent updates. I guess-”
“Sounds like somebody’s in love.” Wonyoung eases.
“Pretty much,” you laugh, “I mean- my TA said my current research project is coming along well. If anything, life’s been pretty good to me.”
Wonyoung applauses, patting your thigh. “That’ll be cool to see you showcase it at the department event next spring! Aren’t you excited?”
“Hell yeah,” you grin.
Wonyoung scooches closer. “I didn’t mean what I said, about the whole ignoring me part. Yujin and I used to be like you, and I know it was a pain in the ass to make time for me.”
“In some ways,” you admit.
“You wanna elaborate?”
“Well you and Yujin are dating, Karina and I are-”
Your mouth freezes, looking away. Wonyoung always noticed when something was up. She pulls you in for a hug, cheek to the bridge of your collarbone. “You don’t have to say it, I know,” she whispers. But you slightly shake your head in denial.
“It’s a bit confusing to say, let alone think.”
“You’ve been on the honeymoon phase already. Maybe it’s time to finally step back and reconsider what you want for yourself.” Wonyoung says. “There’s other ways to make money and plus-” she massages your arm, “-you don’t really need her.”
You’re somewhat in denial, but hopeful to stay with the truth. “I don’t,” you breathe, it’s an instilled belief. “I can get by on my own.”
–
Remind yourself: one thing shouldn’t affect the other.
Even if the one of many things are your thoughts with Karina occupying your mind way more than it should, it’s substituted with a variety of options: socializing, the thesis, keeping Wonyoung in the loop. With the additional money left over, it also calls for some makeovers-
“When I said a ‘makeover’,” Karina says over the phone, you smirk while shoulder to ear. “I thought it meant like- freaking clothes or bags amongst all things, but-”
“I’ve been meaning to get new stuff for the place,” you exclaim, phone now on speaker, on top of a box against the wall. “It was between the new desk or the dresser. Those were top priority.”
“So you went with the dresser?”
Granted, Karina wasn’t asking about the furniture. It was more on the amount of money sent being enough to get the damn thing in the first place. You’ve got your tongue on teeth, smiling. “The dresser.”
“Babe, I gave you my card so you could get some stuff for yourself.”
You examine the card between your fingers. “And I did. It is something for myself.”
“You’re not actually gonna start building it, right?”
“Uh, I am.”
“You’re gonna need help. I’ll do it if it’s fine with you.”
You shake your head, “I’ve done this already, and with Wonyoung’s help of course.”
“How much do you wanna put if I can get it finished before your initial answer, hm?”
“We are not doing an over-under on a freaking dresser, Karina.” You groan.
“Watch me,” she huffs over the phone. “I’ll be there in twenty.”
–
Karina manages to get most of the dresser done, in the midst of all the curses and wiping sweat off her face from time to time. Her hair’s in a low and loose ponytail, shirt folded and hanging off the waistline of her pants. It’s salivating for you to see her a black sports bra. “I can help you if-”
“You’re not moving from that bed,” she points to you with the pliers, scowling. “Give me a few minutes.” Funnily enough, she was almost done. The last bit was putting the drawers in and putting the handles together.
While that was happening, you made an effort to work on your thesis- or study, but most of the words in the book started to blend together. The same could be said for reading, no luck there. Irene’s texts were even drier than the heat after you found out she and Seulgi went out together. Yes, it was good news, but Karina fixing her bra is the current report.
“This mesh is fucking terrible,” she says to herself.
“Should’ve taken off the last layer,” you mutter.
“That would be flashing you, indirectly.” Karina snaps, eyes narrowed. “I apologize if it’s distracting.”
“It wouldn’t be,” you retort. She was already on edge earlier when Wonyoung spontaneously called you about Yujin’s latest shoot. The next worst thing you could’ve possibly done is unintentionally give Karina a show on the bed but the pride got overshadowed by the shyness altogether.
“Alright,” she twists the screw and pushes the drawer in, sighing with relief. “I think we’re done.”
You sit up on the bed and see Karina fiddle with the six drawers. Kneeling at one end before moving around for a final check. Once she’s done, she pats the top, happy with her handiwork. “Should’ve put money on it.”
“But it would’ve been a meaningless bet,” you laugh.
“In the end, I get to keep my money.” Karina beams, raising her arm to stretch one side, and her face warps. She’s rubbernecking her neck and shoulder in discomfort. “God damnit.”
That makes you stand up and walk over. “What happened?”
“I don’t- ah,” she winces. “Of course it’s the same fucking- muscle, jesus.”
Luckily, she doesn’t fight your help towards the bed, nestling in the cushions while you feel out her body on your palms. She squirms a bit at the double stack of thumbs on the spine, waiving with her fingers. “A little more to the left.”
You take that into account and listen to her request, knee to her side and pressing firmly. Karina’s head plops into the pillow. It makes you giggle.
“You’re enjoying this,” she says into the sheets.
“So you don’t want the help?”
She resists your moving fingers, tensing. “You’re definitely enjoying this.”
“To be fair- your back was hunched most of the time, I think the signs showed as soon as you got up.”
“I rarely hunch my back,” drawls Karina. “Except this once, I guess.”
“Which is completely fine, and look-” Karina tenses up again and balls her fists with the sheets between her fingers, “-okay, you’re not gonna get anywhere if you don’t like my hands all over you.”
She mumbles a soft sentence. You notice at the last second.
“You’re not old,” you tell her. “I heard that.”
“It’s not common to have a strained back from standing all day,” Karina huffs. “I swear-”
“Pretty common if you don’t deal with it right away,” you say dryly. “And I’m not the one studying medicine here.”
Karina curses into the pillow, fully relaxing to your touch. You kiss her neck and tickle her ear. “I’m just messing around.”
“You really like taking advantage of my groveling,” she says, perking her head around while you finish kneading the tense knots. “It kinda concerns me.”
“I’m just good at managing your sour attitude,” you sigh, kissing her temple. “My own words of wisdom.”
You pinch both of her shoulders, burying your nose into her hair. She turns her head the same direction and pecks your cheek. There’s a quick moment of gazing into each other’s eyes before meeting lips again; no rush carried, but that gets negated with the urgency of hands to thighs. Karina slips out of her bra while you straddle, chest exposed for you, yearning at the sight of the rolling hips on hers.
She’s quick to grab your neck and pull you in, breathing into your mouth. Her thigh lifts and brushes your clothed cunt, making you freeze at the sudden pressure. You push down on her leg and move your hips, feeling her breath quiver from the sounds escaping past your teeth. “I was expecting you to touch yourself- watching me all sweaty and icky and-”
“Fuck, you’re insane.” You could’ve, really. She’s absolutely right.
Karina pulls you closer and you wrap your arms around her head, heaving into her open mouth. The friction between your legs hunches you over. Her teeth opening to your smile and the both of you laugh at the same time.
That is, until the doorbell rings.
You look over before Karina steals your attention back on her. “Nuh uh,” she coos, licking your collarbone. “Stay on my leg, just like that.”
Your fingers card her hair, grasping the scalp, imagining the hunger in her eyes once she’s down on you - enough to send tremors in your throat. Then the beeping of the new lock on the door fills your ears.
“It’s me.” Yunjin’s muffled voice is heard beyond the door. “When the fuck did you get a passcode knob?”
“Why now,” you mutter, hushed curses weeping past your lips. Of all times, why the fuck would you show up now?
Karina loosens her grasp, sitting up as you hobble off the bed. Fixing your clothes and checking your face. “Who’s at the door?”
“Yunjin,” you answer, panic coursing in milliseconds. “She’s my cousin.”
“Oh,” Karina freezes, “Is that a-”
“Exactly what it is,” you quip. “If I’m seen with you, I’m in deep shit.”
“You’re not serious.” Karina’s shoulders slump. “Why can’t I-”
“Don’t try it, Karina.” You instruct and you’re bolting to the front door. A turn of the lock and you open the door, seeing Yunjin shoulder her bag, flipping a few ends of her hair.
You tense before putting on the figurative mask: “Yunjin!!!! Hello!!” She purses her lips back at you, tapping your arm as she walks in, noticing the small bundle of boxes left nearby the door. “I wasn’t expecting you to make the trip up.”
“Should’ve mentioned you were redecorating,” she chuckles, setting her things down. “When did that happen?”
“Well, a few days ago,” you answer. “It was about time anyway.”
“A heads up would’ve been nice.”
“What for?!” You exclaim. “You expect me to call you about every little thing about my life?”
“I don’t. Only in the case where you’re buying things above the paygrade.”
You pat down the box. “Clearance goes big when it happens.” To that, Yunjin arches a brow, accepting the assumption. “By the way, you didn’t let me know about stopping by.”
“You’re on break,” she tells you. “I figured I'd save the trouble.”
“Yet you told me about the busy schedule, and Sakura-”
“She knows I’m visiting,” she adds, giving a long gaze towards your direction. From the eyes alone; they’re cold, but curious beneath the hazel irises. “Two out of three is better than none.”
“Right,” you say, slow. “I- uh, just ran out of food. And I was gonna go out-”
“Why is your face red?” Yunjin suddenly asks. “Don’t tell me you were masturbating-”
“Yunjin. For fuck’s sake. No.”
Unfortunately, that answer isn’t enough to convince her. Suddenly your name echoes down the hallway, and Karina walks into the light - her appearance cleaned up and smirking devilishly towards Yunjin.
“You wanna explain to me-” Yunjin stutters, “Who is this woman?”
“Yunjin!”
Your cousin folds her arms, eyebrows creased and fingers tapping skin at a fast pace. “This isn’t one of your friends, let alone a person that I know, too.”
“Yu Jimin,” Karina supplies, sticking her hand out in offering. “I go by Karina amongst friends.” Yunjin, as you’d expect, isn’t buying any of this. She walks back to you, facing off with a similar height and mannerisms.
“I hope you have a really good explanation for all of this.” Your cousin seethes, in all obvious points of pissed.
–
Yunjin death-grips your wrist, drags herself out to the walkway outside, pulling you like a little kid having a tantrum type of thing. “So? Who is she?”
You hesitate - a bad move already. She stands tall across while Karina waits back inside. How having her close by would be a whole lot better than the latter. “Hello? Am I talking to a fucking wall?”
In her case technically, she is. “My-”
“Spit it out.”
“My girlfriend.” Suddenly your tongue feels like sandpaper.
“I’m not buying it.” She sighs, unimpressed.
“Because she doesn’t match the look of her age?”
“You didn’t even tell me that,” Yunjin spits after, put-off.
“She’s thirty.” You supply, indignant.
“And that’s a seven year gap compared to you.”
“I’m twenty four in a couple months,” you retort. “Besides, I didn’t ask for your opinion.”
“I expected you to date someone around your age.”
“Wow.” You can’t be bothered about the insult. “How old is your little fling? Kazuha was her name, right? Answer me that.”
“You knew better. Putting yourself out there to be taken advantage of is not how we raised you.”
“Jen, you don’t think I know that?! My life is my own to live. Sometimes that requires me to thrive in isolation in order to achieve the things that I want.” Yunjin’s expression goes blank. Clearly unconvinced. “Karina’s treated me well, anyway! She makes sure that I’m not in a sour mood, and just very supportive and understanding. Can’t you see-”
“What about your finances?” She suddenly asks you. “I haven’t heard about that from you in a while.”
“I don’t complain about it that much anymore.”
“I’ve seen the tuition bill, genius.” Yunjin deadpans. “Now: where did you get the money?”
In a nanosecond, your brain short circuits. You can’t blatantly lie in front of your fucking cousin, because that’s just wrong. It’s not in your nature. Honesty is a key part in your personal coat of arms: “Okay, I-”
“If money is the concern, then that’s something you mention to me. Not her.” A voice swivels Yunjin and your attention to Karina, standing in the open door. She seems calm, but you can see her masked anger hiding within. Your stomach drops ten floors, the bob in your throat clogging up the airway-
Yunjin, not to your surprise, brings the fight to her: “Alright then. What’s your deal, huh?”
“My deal is that pressuring your little cousin isn’t gonna get you anywhere.” Karina answers. “Like I said: if money’s the main issue, then you bring it to my attention.”
Karina stares down Yunjin’s subtle nod. “Okay miss priss. I’ll allow that.”
“I’m just stating my case,” Karina drawls.
“You haven’t made a case for yourself,” she replies back.
“I have no issue with her, and the same could be said on her part too.” You’re left in awe, jumbling fingers together since you’re nervous. Yunjin notices Karina fixing her wrist, the same seiko watch you remember seeing the night you met.
“Pretty well off for a woman like you,” Yunjin assesses. “That’s not daddy’s money now, is it?”
“Yunjin, christ.” You cringe at her backhanded complement.
“The bankroll’s a lot kinder to me,” Karina beams, and Yunjin shakes her head unconvinced. She gets a good look at her appearance and nods, but that could mean a few things.
Yunjin takes a second to reconsider her angle, gazing down and looking back at you. “You’re still hungry, yeah?”
“Yeah?” You shrug. “What does that have to do with-”
“Okay, you’re hungry, End of story.”
“Alright,” you say with rolling eyes. Yunjin looks right at Karina again. “Can the same be said for her?”
“I’m starving,” Karina dishes candidly, tone flat.
“Grab your jacket,” Yunjin tells the both of you. “I’m buying.”
–
Yunjin takes you two to this one cafè on the eastside, ordering drinks for all three and giving Karina a neat sandwich salad plate since she insisted. You’re nursing your vanilla latte while Yunjin’s eyes are laser focused, burning into your head. Karina bites down her sandwich, humming in approval at the food.
You place the cup down, meeting Yunjin’s expression and nudge Karina’s bumping knee, clutching to it and feeling her fingers caress yours, calming.
“I still can’t believe you,” Yunin starts, disappointment unshaken. “Keeping a secret like this from me for a long while.”
“Since I knew how this would be your reaction,” you snap. “Not liking the kind of shit I do for myself.”
“Yourself?”
“How I want to live my life. The way you wanna fucking micromanage every little detail from afar.”
“In what way?” Yunjin prods, “Like how I’m treating you now?”
“Calling you to update. Prying whenever you can.”
“I”m only doing that because I’m worried.”
“Worried about me lying.” You tense.
“I never made that accusation.”
“Yet the implication says otherwise.”
Yunjin stops, sits up, prompts you to continue: “Every time you call is on a random day or every other hour. I don’t need you hovering the dial button because you think I’m gonna do something stupid.”
“I’m only worried because-” she hangs her mouth open, losing the words on her tongue. “I just- want you to-” She stares down at her half-full cup of coffee. “Not make the same mistakes Rachel did to me, that’s all. That’s why I’m a bit on edge with you at times.”
Karina picks up her empty plate. “I’m just gonna go-”
“You’re fine, Karina.” Yunjin says, eyes full of life, relieved. “I was just about to head out, too.”
“We just got here.” You say.
“Already?” Karina asks.
“I’ll save it for a proper conversation,” Yunjin tells the both of you.
“Why save it when you can just let it out right here?” Karina suggests, smirking. To that, Yunjin chuckles, fixing her scarf.
“Don’t get all cocky because I let you off the hook,” says Yunjin. “You want to do good for us? Make the right choices.”
–
You and Yunjin share a hug outside the cafè, Karina watching with her arms folded.
“I”m sorry, Jen. I should’ve said something sooner-”
Yunjin puts a hand up, “You idiot, saying it now won’t save the damage.” She then awkwardly pats your shoulder, fixes your messy hair after. “Look, I just want what’s best for you. Plus, you’re well off with things lined up in your horizon, so keep it that way. Call me back, or don’t. I can’t make that decision for you.”
Before you could utter a response, Yunjin had already walked back to her car, pulling away from the curb and blending into the traffic. Once she’s out of sight, your posture dips and the depression washes over you. “What in the fuck am I doing?”
“Self-lament isn’t what she said to me about you, by the way. Lighten up.” Karina helps you straighten out, rubbing your arm for warmth. “She already planned on leaving when we got here.”
“Why would she even-”
“Everything she wanted to say was already said,” Karina answers. “For both of us.”
“What about the convo back in the apartment?”
“My answer matters more than her question.”
“What did you say?” You ask, a hint of worry building in your bones.
Karina hugs you from behind, softly laughing. “What’s important is solely on you.” She says that like it’s the reality - even in the back of your mind you believe it to be true - with her voice smooth as silk and hands cradling your head. You melt into her, sinking. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, we’re fine. Really, we are.”
“I know-” you sputter, “I just feel like shit about this whole situation.”
“You shouldn’t. If anything, that only piques my interest even more.” Karina grins. “Comparing your family to mine, my sister’s got her own shit to deal with and my step sister is a different story. That’s why I turned down going home for the weekend.”
“Does that mean you’re working?” You then wonder. Karina grasps your hands, sniffing your neck.
“Pain and people are a terrible combination.” She sighs. “But it pays the bills. Big bills.”
An idea sparks in your brain, “Let’s go somewhere.”
“What happened to eating?”
“I eat here way too many times with Irene,” you say. “Plus I’ve been meaning to run errands.”
“On that note, I never told you that I can make a meal.”
Karina’s face lights up, eyes perked in excitement. “Dinner’s still on the cards, yes?”
“You never said you were a chef.”
“Until now.” Karina notes. “A good chicken dish, too.”
Your arms drop. “I still need a few things.”
“Fine. The station is up ahead here and we can just grab the other things spontaneously at the convenience store if needed.” She says as she takes your hand, leading you on this adventure. “Sound okay?”
“Yes.”
–
(You wonder. Of all the possibilities. The way she has your hand in her pocket - kissing your hand without a care prior - like she only saw you and the rest of the world faded from her view. Batting those lashes which makes yours mirror the same effect.
When she holds you close in the cramped subway car, you can’t help but laugh into her sweater.
Maybe you do settle with the best parts of Karina, and you desperately want it to stay.)
–
Here’s another thing you learn about her: she’s not one to waste time.
She grabs whatever she needs and doesn’t float around wandering. Only looking at the assorted wine choices for a minute before checking out. A pack of chicken breast and a few vegetables in a shopping bag.
You hail a taxi outside and play a game of footsies in the car, stifling a laugh while the driver looks in his rearview and Karina’s pinching her neck when the noise gets too antsy. She whispers to you how normalized misery is among people, because they’re deprived of an aspect they’re longing for.
Thankfully for the driver’s case, it was only a two-stop back to the apartment. Karina’s got her arm locked with yours and you can’t shake the delight in your bones, heart beating madly like it’s about to burst. You stare up at her while opening the door, sensing the luxury of what coming home with someone feels right at this moment.
You’re quick to get back inside and turn on the heater. Karina sets down the shopping bag and shrugs her coat off to the chair nearby. She’s assessing the lay of the land, opening cupboards for ingredients within reach. You stop in your tracks and watch her get comfortable. As if she’s been around for a long time.
“A grilled chicken dish,” you breathe, smiling. “How healthy.”
“My specialty,” Karina says, placing a bowl in front of her. “Mom used to make it all the time. Probably the only thing I know how to cook and cook it well.”
“The ‘ol reliable,” you’re cackling. “Yunjin and I would make egg fried rice even if we didn’t crave it specifically.”
“Fried rice trumps all,” agrees Karina. She sets the two pieces of chicken breast on the wooden board, testing the pointed edge of the knife, beginning to slice evenly cut slices. “I also noticed, you have a bottle of Petit Manseng just sitting in your fridge?”
“Gift from a coworker,” you supply. “A going away present when she moved overseas.”
“There’s a difference between a decent wine and high-end wine.” Karina tells you, placing two glasses and pouting a small amount in both of them. “Trust me, I would know.”
You coo, swirl the wine in the cup. Clink the glasses together. “To homemade cuisine.”
“Not bad for a last minute dinner.” Karina says, sipping. The two of you taste the sweet burn of the beverage. You watch as she turns around and tends to the sizzling pot. A thought bubbles in your mind, but you finish off the drink to drown any slimmer of optimism.
It’s nice, to be honest. How easy living like this could be. The sight of Karina making herself at home - your home.
You then stand and approach Karina, leaning into her with slithering arms wrapped to her waist, cheek to shoulder. In compliment, she leans back slightly, nuzzling her head with yours. The both of you want the branding of affection to stay on your skin.
“Food’s almost done,” she tells you, hushed. Forehead to yours and breathing you in. “Go back, babe.”
You’re pulling away, unable to fight the gravity in your feet, drifting further and further.
–
Karina sets down the fork on the plate after finishing her spoonful of grilled teriyaki chicken, watching you scrunch your nose at the food melting in your mouth. See? Told ya it was good.”
You move your head side to side, humming gleefully. “I have so much respect,” you say, tapping your middle and thumb fingertips over the dish, “For you to cook an easy meal.”
“I never said I was a bad cook,” replies Karina.
“I didn’t imply that you were,” you retort.
Out of nowhere, Karina lunges forward and presses you into the cushions, making you laugh uncontrollably. Her hand ghosts over your chest, pinching your middle, and you take a heaving breath while stuttering a warning about the coffee table, but that wasn’t the problem at all. “Karina! No, please!”
“Why not?” She asks, cradling your jaw. “I thought you were a touchy person.”
“Around friends!”
“So I’m not your friend.” Ouch. You could see the hidden wince warp on her face.
“Never said that.” You say. “These are serious allegations, mind you.”
“Too bad,” Karina tells you, her leg between yours and sinking down on top. “You won’t be able to argue soon.”
“Don’t!” And that’s the last word you say before Karina’s bombardment of fingers takes over your body. You try to resist with all your might, but it’s hopeless. She relishes in your laugh almost teetering into a cry; when she finally thinks you have enough, she nuzzles her nose into your neck, gently kissing it.
“Had enough yet?” asks Karina. You don’t give her an answer.
More fingers join the fray. “Okay! Okay! Karina, stop-”
“Such an actress,” she huffs, resting her hands on your hips and grants you a few seconds to breathe. When that’s done, you cling onto Karina, nose hovering above your ear canal, sighing like the hurricane of anxiousness becomes no more.
“Hey,” she starts, “How does a movie sound?”
“What’d you have in mind?” You then ask. “We can see what they’re streaming.”
“I was thinking something cozy, melancholic.”
“Like a romance?”
“Maybe a sad romance.”
“Good god,” you chuckle. “I never thought you’d be one to cry over dramatized things.”
“If they’re done well,” Karina explains. She blinks twice before registering your dull expression. “I’m being serious.”
“‘If they’re done well,” you repeat. “It would have to be something that takes me by surprise, like something completely unexpected.”
“Oh, you’re that kind of genre enjoyer.” Karina says dryly.
“Blame my ex for shifting my perspective,” you dart back defensively. “If anything, it’s her fault.”
“I guess fuck her too, then,” she agrees in relent. “Don’t blame me if you’re sobbing a puddle by the end of it.”
“That depends,” you say as she goes through the catalog: Love, Rosie, Me before You, My Oxford Year. Karina goes with the third choice. “What about that old debate about books being better than the movies?”
Karina leans back as the movie starts on the screen. “Subjective, depending on what you watch.” You snort, trying your best to hide your laugh. All she does next to you is shake her head in disappointment and keep her eyes on the TV as you eventually come back down to watch.
–
Way later, Karina hands a box of tissues at you because you cried while huddling the armrest of the couch, reaching for the glass of water she got earlier during the movie before finishing it completely. “Sorry,” she says. “They called me in for an early shift tomorrow. I’ll have to leave soon.”
You have the urge to plead her not to go, scream it at the top of your lungs. Though, you say nothing in the end and watch as she gathers her things, wrapping the burberry scarf around her neck as she stands by the door. She then opens the door - letting the chill in, and she shields you, hugging you close.
Karina moves a wisp of hair off your face, her shimmering eyes in all its glory for you to see. You still don’t want her to leave. “I’ll be off in the afternoon, most likely,” she announces. “You’re not busy by then, right?”
You nod, coughing at the air curling your legs. “Yeah.”
Her thumb grazes your temple, and she dips down to kiss you; a small hint of soy sauce still left on her lips. You get a head of yourself, pushing your head forward, but she sees this and stops the attempt. A soft smile is given as an apology and you pull away. Karina chuckles and pinches your ear cuff.
“I’ll see you again,” she tells you, kissing soon after.
“Okay,” you sigh.
When she closes the door, you don’t move at all. Torn between running out to get her or staying inside.
–
Right after the break, the guest speaker comes to campus.
You’re on your way out from the lecture hall when someone calls the name a little too loudly. It's only the next two or three times that the same person is running closer towards you like some crazed super-fan. “Hey! You got a second?”
“Miyeon. Hi.” You greet, muting a chuckle.
“Almost thought you didn’t show up,” she says. “You’ve been pretty much non-existent since midterms.”
“You mean to tell me you’re still mentally stable after our exams?”
“Oh, of course not,” Miyeon answers with her trademark cheeriness. “I slept for a third of the talk anyway.”
Your face warps, from genuine confusion to puffed cheeks into a fast cackle. Miyeon scratches her head before you could collect yourself. “I worked closely with her during my volunteer hours.”
“The lecturer?”
“Mrs. Ningning Yizuho, yes.”
“How did you-”
“Close connection with another colleague.” Miyeon provides a shrug. “She’s very intimidating. I can still bring you two together!"
“Sure,” you casually agree. “Lead the way.”
Miyeon enters back into the room and walks towards the pit, seeing a refined brunette in a white quarter-zip speaking with another professor from the department. She calls her name, getting her attention, eyes widening in disbelief. “Miyeon Cho? Oh my goodness.”
“Indeed it is,” beams Miyeon, acknowledging the other professor’s presence while they step away to give you three some space. “Lovely lesson, by the way. It was amazing.”
“Glad to hear that!” Ningning says back. “I hope you’ve been doing well since our time together?”
“Splendidly,” Miyeon says.
“Hopefully your internship with Ms. Song is going well, too.”
“I’m working on my overall assessment on the given assignment. On top of that, I help in some of the various courses throughout the department. Which reminds me-” Miyeon motions you forward. “I’d like to introduce you to my good friend in one of the lectures.”
“Pleasure to meet you,” you say, presenting the niceties with an extended hand. “I’ve heard a lot of good things about your work.”
Ningning’s features are emboldened in close proximity. Her dark, auburn hair in waves highlighted with a gentle blush on her cheeks. Her eyes are similar to another individual, sharp and sheltering intelligence. It’s oddly uncanny. Yet you settle on the fact that she would’ve owned the runway if she didn’t have a PhD.
“Your name sounds very familiar,” Ningning tells you. “And you said she’s-”
“One of the top standout students in the grad program,” Miyeon butts in.
“I see-” Suddenly, Ningning’s eyes spark. Filled with knowledge and realization. “Ah- yes. Yes! I know. Wow!”
“Yes?” You ask puzzledly.
“Why didn’t I see it before?!” Ningning exclaims. “Are you acquainted with Karina?”
“Karina?” The dots in your head start to connect instantly. Ningning. Karina’s family member. The stepsister she mentioned a while back. It was in the freaking family photo next to the dresser. Her and Karina sitting in the front row of the portrait.
“Oh.” Your mouth forms the utterance.
“That’s amazing!” Ningning’s voice pitches higher in excitement. “Wow!”
“May I ask,” Miyeon waves her hands between you two. “Who is Karina, exactly?”
“My stepsister,” Ningning replies, gaze full of delight. “We both work in the medical profession together.”
“Karina’s-” your voice hangs for a second. “-talked-”
“She was with me very recently,” answers Ningning. “Brought up psychology, but didn’t tell me about the institution you were learning at.”
“Yeah,” you breathe. “I assume the info was need to know.”
“Well, we most certainly found out,” Ningning smirks. “Regarding your field of study-”
“It’s psychology with an emphasized focus on kids in an educational setting.” You say, presenting Miyeon in the flip of the plus one. “Miyeon’s been helping me get connections along with my project later in the spring.”
Miyeon nods her head willingly, a bit thrown off since she just explained your story already.
“Connections,” Ningning says pensively. “Good thing Ms. Cho here was sweet enough for me to get acquainted with you. Finally, at least.”
“Better to start now than later,” you smile.
“Karina did tell me that your assignments have been-” Ningning smiles back with higher brows. “-tough, to say the least.”
You bob your head, taking the truth to heart. “That’s weird,” Miyeon then says. “I’ve only met Ms. Jimin once through Ms. Yiz, but how do you know her? That's my question.”
Miyeon sees your flashed look, thinking of the mixed aroma of calamari and steak intertwined with decent wine. The night where you’ve got money in your pocket from a complete stranger, and you’ve got no way to explain much like Karina’s demeanor.
Ningning, sweeps the question her way. “A great girl like her,” she says to you, “Has been the best thing about Karina’s life so far.”
You let the compliment sink into your mind, swirled with the deep thoughts of dread. As much as you wanted to move, you couldn’t. In Ningning’s words and how she presented it, all of it is drained out in seconds. The ‘great’ tidings she bore, diminished to nothing less than a simple goal of one’s ego.
It hadn’t even been a week: Karina being in your space, holding you so dearly with her eyes and hands like you’re someone she’s been searching for all her life. All of it made you forget that it was just your head - running the false play as if it were legitimate, and real.
So full of stupidity, and pride. Shameful.
“Does anyone else know?” Miyeon bumps your arm, nervously pulling her lips. It doesn’t register in your ears in the deafening white noise. “That you’re getting back into dating again?”
Karina and you weren’t dating. It stings to admit reality. Mourning what you had. Karina said you were a prize. Not a lover. Just someone to be intimate and get the edge off with.
“It was nice to meet you,” you say to Ningning, returning your false mask to light. “I’d love to connect with you some other time, really.”
“Right,” says Ninging, dejected, or so you think. Considering how she grabbed your hands and hooked on to the cuff of your coat. Highlighting some sort of interest there. Maybe Karina told her about you, the things you two did together. Maybe she wanted to have her fun as well. “My info is reachable from your professors. If you need anything, call me.”
You bow to her and Miyeon, motioning to leave. The linoleum turns into concrete until it meets the asphalt before you even look up. Clutching your phone with a shaking hand while you’re reeling from what just occurred.
A tear falls on your cheek, then on the other while wiping. You feel like the things you’ve worked towards this were ripped away from you entirely. It probably has.
Oh, how wrong you were, of everything.
–
Your phone’s been set to ‘do not disturb’ for the time being.
Normally, it would be brushed off like it’s nobody’s business - except that she’ll make it her regardless. Some check in with a worry like a ‘you’re okay, right?’ or ‘what happened?” while others are stupid moreso of ‘can I speak some shit about the same idiot at work today?’
Simply put: you’ve got no intention to contact Karina, at least for a little while.
It’s partly your fault - failing to get Karina out of your head. Your productivity tanked and so did the effectiveness, both at work and at school, Miyeon can vouch for that especially. Meals get skipped, which could be doubled down on the depression. The effect of Karina being a key part in your daily routine has shown. You don’t even remember how you were before seeing her.
Along the line, someone will send their flowers in recognition. Commending you for being as headstrong as you are, impressed to keep your life private as it is. Wonyoung begs to differ, since she’s also the kind of person to not stop until she has what she needs:
“I am sick and tired of blowing up your phone!” You hear her yell down the hallway, bursting down the door like some FBI agent. It’s nine o’clock on a Saturday and she’s here on her usual antics which you’ve grown to be used to. “Look at me and stop drooping on your goddamn laptop!”
Your face isn’t fazed. “Who said I was drooping?”
“The same girl whose phone is practically unreachable,” Wonyoung snaps, tossing her handbag on the vanity and turning on the lights. “Irene and Wendy had to message me about you not showing up to class, meaning you’ve been cooped up here for God knows how long. Also, I had no knowledge of-” She sits prettily and swivels the chair back to you, all priss and royal-like, “-on top of the fact you’ve been moping and hiding. You’re on my personal shitlist.”
“So what,” you mutter. “I stand by my actions.”
“You’re also taking action by coming with us.” Wonyoung huffs as she stands and shuffles to the closet. Rummaging through your clothes until she picks out a violet shaded dress, bought by Karina. You look away in regret.
“I’ve made it my goal, to get you outside,” says Wonyoung. “Yujin’s downstairs and I’ve got a few more faces coming over to meet us on the west side. Whether you like it or not, you’re getting out.”
“No chance,” you tell her, knees to chin.
“I think so.”
“Try me.
“C’mon, why the ‘f’ not?
“Wonyoung,” you say with shut eyelids. “I- I just can’t.”
“Aw wah,” Wonyoung coaxes, “And I don’t give two shits.”
“Well fuck you,” you snap, flailing your arms in frustration. “I’m not in the mood. Not for drinking or going to the lower west side-”
“Karina lives around there, doesn’t she?”
“That’s not the issue.”
“So how am I gonna fucking convince you to go otherwise?!” Wonyoung raises her voice, exhausted. She picks up the dress and looks at it herself in the mirror. “I’m not leaving until you change your mind. And if you’re gonna be a bitch about it, I still don’t give three shits. You’re better off doing something to keep busy rather than hide here with your soft feelings for the foreseeable future. You fucking loser baby.”
“Excuse me, rich bitch,” you clap back, agitated. “Maybe that’s just what I want to do with myself. Instead of taking my answer the first time, you couldn’t help but spew bullshit about messing with dating for the fun of it, and now I’m in this ordeal because of you, Wony. Don’t ever tell me you ever give a shit because I would’ve been better off alone than actually belong to someone who ever gave an ounce of care.”
Wonyoung’s expression stays unchanged: prim and refined how it always appears. “Do you feel better now?”
“I’m pissed,” you answer. “I’m always pissed.”
“Which is okay,” she coaxes, corralling you into a hug and hiding in her shoulder. “You have me here as an outlet. Even when some of the things you yell about slightly concern me.”
“This is all on me,” you tell her. “I’m sorry, Wonyoung.”
“You are right though.”
“The most you did was tell me about the app in the first place. It’s the whole reason why we’re at this point tonight. Now that I’ve realized what I really am to her.”
Wonyoung pats your shoulder. “Sex is essential,” she chuckles, “I don’t need to tell you about my attachment issues with Yujin- or, my assorted toy collection. I’m still sensitive about letting you borrow my dildos.”
You gasp, playfully freeing yourself from Wonyoung’s grasp. Her eyes light up when you smile. “Now, am I leaving you here or are you finally coming with us?”
(A moment of pause, seeing the dress at the foot of the bed. You’ve tried it before, know where the spots shine with glitter and the curves are defined the most. How Karina’s jaw was on the floor in the fitting room and booked it to the stall. It pains to think about it, but Wonyoung’s point stands: you can’t do anything while staying in solitude, so it’s worth getting out.)
Wonyoung’s brows lift high when she sees you grab the dress. “Get my makeup box,” you instruct her, and she’s kissing your forehead in elation.
–
Yujin rolls down the window outside on the street, hailing you over with a hand raised. “Jesus fuck, girl. Do you wanna bet if you’re getting laid tonight?”
“Uhm, Yujin- let’s not-”
“Yujin, save the manners when we’re actually at the bars,” Wonyoung says while settling into the seat. “Plus the name alone is a trigger warning so take it easy.”
“That bad, huh?” Yujin’s eyes darts to the rear view. “Say no more. We’re gonna have so much fun today, I’m super stoked.” Soon she pulls out into the street, wheeling down while you’re gripping the arm rest a lot tighter than usual.
“For the love of God, please don’t get pulled over like last time,” Wonyoung tells Yujin, grinning when she sees your eyes bulge in nervousness.
–
Luckily, on a late Saturday night, the traffic is pretty bearable if the drive’s less than twenty minutes. It’s a karaoke session in the front of the car while you're gazing up to the city lights, mixing them with the stars above, unwilling to gaze down and see the area you’ve learned very recently. Right before you could even close your eyes and breathe for a second, Yujin’s parked along the street and shuts off the engine.
You’ve seen most of the clubs around this part of town, nothing surprising or stand-offish from most of them. Once past the bouncer, the ambiance of the place is speakeasy, and cozy. Broken by the occasional strobe lights and with the bass from the subwoofer’s past 110%. Wonyoung keeps you close through the crowd until the place breaks off into an elevated portion with private booths, a table with guests sitting on both slides.
Irene peeks out and notices you three, sliding out and jogging towards you to say hi. Your face and hers go soft while you envelop her in a long overdue hug.
“Do you get more beautiful every time I see you?” Irene asks, looking down while you’ve got the dress at the ends. “How is that even possible?!”
“I should ask the same to you,” you yell back, the music way more louder with the roar of the audience.
“Everyone else is here, look!”
You follow Irene to the table, slotting back to the open spot where she’s next to a pretty woman with a wavy wolf cut, who you immediately pick out in excitement: “Seulgi!”
“Sup,” Seulgi greets back. “Good to see you.”
“You and Irene, huh?” You nudge your friend’s elbow. “Happy to see it happen?”
“Where’s yours?”
“Don’t worry about it,” you say, noticing a drink sliding across the table. “Still serving me off the clock are we?”
“I’m not responsible for what happens to you this time.” Seulgi tells you as she presents the beverage. You acknowledge her warning and take the offer. Suddenly a voice gets Yujin’s attention:
“Wonyoung! Hey!”
The whole group looks over and sees four people filling in, two stunning women in the front, one guy in the back and a third girl in the middle. When they approach closer, her hair is a bright silver contrasting the all black fit. She waves when her eyes set on the group.
She gets bombarded by Wonyoung’s hug. Wonyoung failed to hide her exclaiming because she was just really happy to see her. “You’re finally here, Winter!!” She then takes her hands and slither into the booth, glancing over to you, and faintly smirking. “Meet my sister’s coworker, Winter!”
“Hi,” greets Winter, shaking your hand. She turns her head over and motions her finger for their friend’s attention. “Meet Somi, and that’s Jiwon.”
“Pleasure,” you say, bowing your head.
“I’ve heard quite a bit from Wonyoung,” Winter continues, moving her shoulders closer to you. “A few times she comes over to see her sister’s shoots.”
“She cherishes me too much.”
“Exactly,” chuckles Winter. “An angel living among us. You really fostered pets while rooming with Wonyoung?”
“One of the many things,” you remark, hand to the back of your head. “She didn’t complain, either.”
“Are you just naturally kind-hearted?”
“I’m flattered?” You say in shock while Somi and Jiwon sit on the opposite end. There’s a sense of uneasiness when Winter accidentally brushes your shoulder.
“Anything else I should know that Wony has told me yet?” She then asks, leaning her head back with narrowed eyes. “If you’re willing to share.”
“That depends,” you say. “What are you willing to know?”
“Beats me,” answers Winter, adding: “What about grad school?”
“Psychology,” you tell her for one. “I work at the library on campus while interning at the department. You didn’t know the last part there, right?”
“Until now,” Winter says, cup in her hand.
“What about you?” You ask, mirroring the same action as her and drinking the seltzer as an appetizer. “You work with Wony’s sister?”
“I”m in the same modeling agency as her,” she says, scratching her neck. “So we’re in the office a good chunk of the week.”
“And Wonyoung drops by every now and then?”
Her lips twitch, hushing her chuckle. Winter undo’s her quarter zip halfway, setting her arm on the table. “You’re very impressionable, I like that.”
“Thanks?” You say, face warm and legs pressed together tightly. Maybe all of this was a bad idea. “I-”
“We can save the formalities later,” she says slyly, closing the proximity. “We both came here to have fun tonight, yeah?”
–
In your natural compass, disregarding all morals between right and wrong: you do have fun in the end.
Two mega glasses of the club’s finest brew is enough to get you over the edge. A bonus with the jello shots that’re too many to count. Winter eases into it as you’re quite the opposite. To let loose from a hard day’s work is enough to suffice, yeah?
On the dance floor and near the stage is where you somehow find yourself in, bouncing between groups. Wonyoung and Yujin the first, then Irene and Seulgi the next. Both duos are dragging - pushing you back and forth, to the point where you make Irene squeal and drown each other beneath the light.
This is enough to save you through the night.
What’s more is that Winter gets on the floor as well, moving with the music. Seulgi spots this and tugs your arm to her direction, where you eventually fall into her arms, hands resting on shoulders. Her mouth is close, a little too close for your liking, but you’ll allow it. She gets closer. It’s damning how the look on her face appears to be one she had for thirty years - albeit thirty minutes in reality.
“Why don’t we get out of here?” She leans in, her trademark flash of teeth short-circuiting your brain.
“Maybe.” Your eyelids fall slowly. “What do you have to prove?”
“What you want to prove to Wonyoung.”
Probably the easiest thing to do, because of the alcohol, is give in. Nodding along with her lips dangerously next to yours.
–
There’s quite a lot you give into. Winter’s got her hand wrapped at your neck while the other’s in your pants, curling a finger inside your cunt. Lips caressing the curve of your jaw and it’s really all incessantly fucked up: sleepy smiled and relishing in the blush across your cheeks. You’re pretty sure someone at the street will notice the alleyway, but who would ever look in the club’s primetime hours in the first place?
“Has anyone ever said-” Winter kisses you when the moan slips out. “How beautiful you are?”
You whimper at her sliding thumb on your lips, nail pressing on the flesh and one of her few patchwork tattoos. “Not really,” gasping when her ring finger joins the fray. “I rarely get compliments like that nowadays.”
“A shame,” she says, sliding her arm under your back, nibbling on your chest. “I wouldn’t let that happen.”
Here’s a backhanded compliment morphed into an observation for you: you’re a fucking dumbass, a hypocrite even. Despising what you preached only to be powerless at your new silver-haired ‘friend’ doing the Devil’s tempting work. You should’ve known better from babbling nonsense where Winter figured out which spots you liked best, how you wanted to be held, where her teeth graze and her fingers pinch. A complete opposite to the Winter you met over an hour ago, since this one likes to see you worked up and needy.
You slip out of your dress some more, give more space to breathe - let Winter shove her hand in your panties. She giggles at the subtle flinch of your belly button. “Do you wanna keep going?” Winter asks, sinking down. See how your face warbles in delight. “I can give you everything.”
Randomly, almost on impulse, your eyes refocus on what's happening, panicking as you push Winter down onto the floor. You cover yourself as the wind blows in. “I’m sorry, Winter.”
“Wait-”
“I just can’t.”
You walk away and refuse to look back, fighting back tears. The next thing you do is get in your contact list and scroll down the names, tapping on one with the first ring not even going all the way through: “Hey, what’s wrong?”
“I need to see you,” you shakily say to Karina, extending a hand out for a taxi. “It’s urgent.”
“Okay, but are you sure? You sound on edge.”
“I just-” you stutter, teeth chattering from the chill. “I just need to get out of here, please.”
“Can you wait? I’ll come down-”
“No, don’t.” You say. “I’ll do it myself.”
“Honey-” The name pierces your ear, and you end the call.
–
The cab ride over to Karina’s is a little over ten minutes. An extra minute or so when putting the fee for the mileage, stumbling out of the car soon after. Then there’s also the small tweak of your ankle because of the ridiculously high heels. That bob-cut hotel employee is surprised to see you at this hour, but she lets you in with a confused look on her face.
You get on the elevator, end at the floor Karina’s apartment is on, trip and stumble in the hallway, and get to her door with a few fast knocks. “I know you’re in there, please!”
Right on cue, Karina opens it from the other side. Your heart palpitates at the sight of her, her brown locks flowing, in her night gown and slightly on edge. She lets you in before your emotions could, watching you storm inside. “What happened? I could’ve picked you up-”
“Ugh, I don’t know,” you huff, tossing your jacket off and struggling to get out of those annoying heels. Karina ghosts her hands but you refuse with a tensed noise, disheartened.
“What did you do?” She says in assessment. “You smell like alcohol.”
“I was with Wony. We went out.”
“Did something happen?”
“I got plastered.” You tell her, and Karina’s eyes blink sorrowfully. It presses you that she has a worry to you, wincing at the groan rumbling in your chest. Why should she care? If at all?
“I have clothes for you. Do you need anything?”
You don’t say anything but stare at her. Karina breathes deeply, annoyed. “It’s hard to read you like this, honey. I’ll be honest.”
“Shut up.”
“Hm?” Karina sees you fed up, fists balled. “Enough with- the names. I don’t want your money or your gifts. I- I don’t want the fucking money anymore. You don’t even care. I’m sick, sick and tired of all of it.”
“Okay, hang on,” she says back. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I do care.” Her face shifts to something hurt. “Can you explain to me what the fuck happened earlier?”
“Stop fucking asking me!” You scream. “I’m fed up with this bullshit between us.”
“What are you even talking about? What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“What’s wrong-” you spit, grinding teeth. “-is I’m done being your little play thing- your sugar baby, okay?!”
“The fuck?”
“You heard me. I don’t want you to be my sugar mommy. Why? Are you hurt when I say it? Because I feel like shit when I do.” Your breathing becomes irregular, anxious, and you keep going: “And I’m done. I’m done. I’m done. I’m fucking done.”
Karina’s face folds into disgust. “Done? What do you even mean you’re done?”
“I’m done with everything,” you say with your hands up. “I- I’m fed up with just- being okay with you, coming over to my house, fuck, and then give me money after like that’s totally fine. Honestly, I thought it was okay. That it didn’t hurt to not think about it, but then I started to really think and- hoped something would shift. That didn’t happen tonight and that really makes me shitty.”
“Sweetie,” Karina coos, fingers on hips. You cringe again. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Of course you don’t,” you grit, lip quivering to a smirk. “Get this: I met someone earlier tonight. Someone who made me feel deserved and full.” Karina’s face crosses her arms, brow arched to say she’s not buying what you’re selling. How her expression goes cold, moments before a serial killer goes for the killing blow.
“What did you do?” She asks you, calmly.
“I let her touch me-” then you choke, because the guilt finally bursts past the truth: “Kiss me in the alley outside the clubhouse but I-” your words start to tumble out with jittering hands. “I just couldn’t. She wanted to take me home and I pushed her away. Only because I thought of you, Karina. I think of you- and these feelings, my heart and even-”
“You mean to tell me you screwed me with another girl!?” Karina cries. “What good does that mean for me if it also fucking hurts!?”
“I didn’t know any better! We were never serious! I’m fed up with you treating me like this for your own benefit!”
“My god- I told you multiple fucking times! About how I felt about all of that. I wanted what was best- that’s why you’re with me and not freaking Giselle!”
That hits you right on the nail. You fucking idiot.
Your mouth forms an ‘o’, shredded from anger and heartbreak. Most of the stupidity is clouded from your lack of judgement. “I, I-”
It dawns, hardly. She gave her point straightaway that time, when she sat at the bar. The money wasn’t even supposed to be a proxy - a clarification in a simple misunderstanding. She’d never treated you in what you hated so- No. Never. Karina cradles you in her eyes delicately.
Yes, she’s blinded by rage, but holds your face dearly. There’s nothing more you’d rather do and drop down to her feet and recite a penance for your sins. “I didn’t mean it, Karina. I- I just wanted to be happy and not feel like shit all the time-”
She swoops you in, muffling your wailing sobs. It’s only for a few minutes of calming down then Karina decides to lull over your mistakes, figure out where you finally stand in her mind. What would happen now that she’s finally seen you reduced to nothing. Nothing.
To which she says: “You’re really something.” And laughs. You’ve never sobered up so quickly. Despite being still hurt.
“What’s that supposed to-” and she shuts you up.
With a smoothened brush of her thumb on your cheek and a kiss.
–
It escalates slightly a few minutes later, your back against the wall and Karina’s sweltering mouth attacking you - on all fronts.
“Don’t-” you stutter between pecks, tugging at her nightgown. A sharp inhale from the nibbles. “You fucking, little-”
“Not so little,” Karina grins, pinning your wrists. “What do you want, baby?”
“To touch me,” you gasp.
Karina’s hands tend to the zipper behind, and her clothes pool at the floor. Each touch her fingertips make is electric, siphoning every exhale in the slightest graze.
“Is this good?” she asks, breath hot over the layer above your heart. Your foot slides up the wall, bending. Arching at her low moans into your skin. “I can tell you want more.”
“Nothing more, just you.”
Karina’s lips lick another inch of your neck, sighing lowly. “Tell me again.”
“I just want you.”
She grabs you quickly and shoves you on the bed, with no chance to fight back. Gripping her hips as she presses your waist down. Her heat spreads over to you, unbridled and blossoming. Karina’s hand glides up your thigh when she breaks the kiss, sighing a silken promise left unspoken. “You drive me crazy.”
“That’s just my charm,” you stare while she ganders down: a trail of kisses from your sternum, then ur middle, until the tip of her tongue flicks your belly button - pushes your legs apart. “Karina, Karina-”
Karina quivers her mouth, hesitating. “Lower?” Seeing your eyes squinched shut, tensing.
“Fuck- just do it already-”
“Mhm-”
“Don’t fucking stop,” you order, and Karina doesn’t.
You breathe in, relieved. Laughing at the newfound sensation of her lips tending to your cunt - turning into a small strain, then groaning. You claw Karina’s scalp, guide her to where you need it most. The only thing you knew how to do, besides berating yourself: was holding her head and the sheets; let your body tremble through the quick high of your release, bucking at her touch, until you’ve felt whole and less of nothing.
Karina, showing she never made her point wrong, coaxes you through. Taking you gleefully in her mouth for as long as you could hold it. Once she’s had her fill, she climbs up, collapses on you, bask in the afterglow and fading tension built within you two.
Her fingertips trace your chin, and she still has that same look from that night in the bar: stoic eyes but filled with sympathetic curiosity.
“I was scared of you,” she hushes, sleepily. “Of something terrible happening.”
You bump her nose, tap the little beauty mark just beneath her mouth. “Are you still afraid?” Karina chuckles and nuzzles her face to your stomach.
“Not anymore.”
–
You’re the first to wake up in the morning. Quick to realize Karina wasn’t next to you, jolting a sense of panic. On cue, she walks out the bathroom and sinks to her knees, levels with you at the edge of the bed. She grasps your knee - as a sign of anxiousness, because she can’t afford to relax, not even for a second.
“How’s your head?” She asks first, gently tapping your thigh. Watch you try to keep yourself calm the best you can, though that only lasts for less than a minute.
“Ka- I’m just- fuck, about what I said- what I did. All of it was just me being stressed and I didn’t mean to fuck up our relationship. I was freaking out since Yunjin- and not only her-” Your words jumble together, to a point when Karina shushes and reminds you to breathe. It’s ok. One thing at a time. I need you to relax and take it slowly, please.
“Me being pissed at you is one thing,” she says, “Trying to figure out your episode is another. And I think there’s one common point between this.”
“I’m such an idiot.” Way to apologize without saying it, girl.
Karina knows you don’t mean it. “It’s because of what we talked about that night.”
“Yeah.”
“Even when I held an olive branch for your situation, which explains the money.”
“Now that I think about it, yeah. That also explains why I got with you after-”
“Because I was interested.”
“After the Astoria, when we had dinner, you-”
“You don’t just throw out five grand to a girl without having a legitimate reason,” you laugh, because it’s still genuinely insane. “Did it ever occur to you how ridiculous of an investment that is?”
“Your situation,” says Karina. “Like I said, I was in your shoes before.”
“That’s a bit deranged, too. No?”
“I don’t think so.” Her hand stops at the crease of your knee. Shifting her thumb and index to rest below your jaw. “If it were for anyone else, then yes.”
“Wow.” You ball your fists, nervously. “Seriously, what the fuck-”
“About last night, in the alleyway.” Karina’s face goes cross, “When you-”
“I swear to you, she didn’t do anything more than what she did,” you plead. “Yes, it was in the moment, and with the alcohol. Then I fucked up and stopped before things got worse.”
“You would’ve been in a lot more shit if you escalated it,” she deadpans, face flat. “Someone could’ve died that night.”
“I didn’t mean to,” you say while grabbing both hands. “Please, on my life.”
“It’s okay. You made it up to me last night, anyway.”
Now realizing how sore you were, that’s one part in your brain you’d hope to remember. “But that’s not the point, either-”
“If Kim Minjeong-”
“Karina, how?”
“She called you. I answered and told her to never come near you again. Worse comes to worse, there would’ve been a crime scene already.”
“Wow, you didn’t have to go that far.”
“You’re one to talk.”
Oof. Karina.
That sets a nerve off, and right when you’re about to yell your mouth off, Karina clings onto you. Arms moving up your back, holding you there. “I- I realize now after a few days. How much you really mean to me. I love you.”
You sigh her name, so much it comes out in a ‘damsel in distress’ tone. “I’ll say it again: I love you. For a while. I believe it to be true.”
“Karina-”
“I even dabbled the idea of you moving in with me to my roommate Ryujin!”
She stops her train of thought when you stare up at her, look down at her chest, prompting her to press her lips to your crown. Let her hold your face with such earnestness and she catches the mumbling wisps-
“You what?”
“I said,” you inhale, preparing: “I love you.”
Karina rolls her eyes, “Oh, I know that. Why don’t you punch me again as you say it.”
As much as the offer is tempting, you remain still. Melt into her embrace. Let the rest of the world fade into obscurity- until you hear: “I’ll still be able to take your hand in marriage?”
You say nothing. “What?” Karina continues. “We both said we loved each other, did we not?”
“Skipped the whole ‘getting down on one knee and the ring’ part.”
“It’s verbally put in existence by me.”
“We both have different interpretations, Karina.” You sigh. “We haven’t learned at all. Plus, marriage isn’t in my plans as of now.”
“So when?”
“We’ll know when we get there.”
“Guess we’ll do this,” Karina lifts you up on her arms, making you smile widely as she hoists you against the wall. Grinning like an idiot. Kisses you like an offering from the heavens. “You’re just gonna have to deal with me until then.”
-
a/n: been a min... thank you for the support as always. to readers/followers old and new, i appreciate you <3
(dumb dating advice, public sex, cam girl stuff, strap-ons, age difference, existential crisis, family issues, money talks/struggles, some mis/communication?, subby subby [:uppies:], cameos from multiple gg's [read for surprises], pt.2!!!! :] )
“You’re sure about this, right?” you ask Karina, clutching her arm as she walks you through the hotel. “I dunno, everything just looks so fancy.”
“Doesn’t have to be here.” She muses, inhaling your hair and kissing a knuckle. “We could go somewhere else if you’d like.”
“And you’d be willing to splurge money on me-”
“Because I want to.”
(It’s a wonderful exchange of communication: where the offers are tempting and impressions have been made. Nothing could possibly get complicated between the two of you before this interaction.
Spoiler alert: the plot goes sideways so quickly before you realize it.)
–
A part of your brain starts to wonder: well, shit. how the fuck am I getting another dinner with someone I barely met?
(Opportunities like these aren’t difficult to come by, especially for those struggling to make ends meet.
If there was a pedigree in that regard - you, my friend, would be the cream of the crop.)
–
Instead, let’s lay it out this way.
–
You keep rolling your eyes at Jang Wonyoung, who continues to laugh at you while she lays out the overlooked proposition:
“The dating app itself isn’t a bad idea. If you really stop thinking for a second, you’d be making money.”
This isn’t the first time you’re hearing the money convos from her, and it certainly won’t be the last time you decide to listen either.
“Money,” you say, eyeing your best friend who’s treating herself to the assorted makeup items in your box, tossing a color back having no care - which is how she usually is with most things in her life. “Don’t you think that’s related to sex-”
“Sex work?”
“Yeah, that.”
“Sort of, but-”
“Why the hell would I do that?”
“You’re too close-minded,” Wonyoung tsks in correction. “Point being: you’re a sugar baby. That’s what it’s called. Honestly, it could be worse. Sex is only half the conversation; maybe the company is all they need. They take and treat you out for dinner and that’s it. Exclusivity isn’t even supposed to be an afterthought.”
“You sound like you’ve done this before.” You tell her flatly.
“Who, me?” Wonyoung snorts. “Pfft, of course not. But I’ve heard good things about it online.” She looks up at her fingers and shifts her gaze to you. “I’m not telling you to do it; but if you’re looking to get some paper in your pockets, the option’s there. You won’t know until you try.”
There she goes - her underlying pretense which leads to more and more misfortune - as always, with a peaked brow and a soft sigh of defeat. Wonyoung pretends to let things go, but deep down she knows you’ll come back around to reconsider.
Your phone buzzes on the bed and that changes your attention instantly. Among the messages between your tutoring gig to the rescinded application of the restaurant Wonyoung insisted not to work at, her face goes smug and she has a good guess as to who’s texting:
attitude diva: shoot’s ready. where r u? 😔
attitude diva: you better not leave me alone with just my hands tonight 🙂↕️🙂↕️🫠🫠
Wonyoung clicks her tongue, “Is that who I think it is?”
You completely ignore her question and slip on your sweats and hoodie at the door. “Let me think about it, okay? Then I’ll see where I stand with the offer.”
“If you really need it, then Yujin wouldn’t be on top of you in ten minutes-”
Unfortunately, you don’t hear the rest of Wonyoung’s plea - nor bear the mind to wave her off into the sweet breeze of the night.
–
They should’ve put this on the pamphlets, talk about it on the campus tours, hear it from a random professor on their way to class - the pursuits people fall into within the four-to-five years of obtaining their degree; using their education for bigger endeavours and typical jazz to reel in more students, implement numbers on graphs and personal destinies with some meaning behind them. Amongst the pack, you’re ambitious in one part - mostly lazy on the other, but willing to get by any means necessary without putting too much effort into the work required. Cutting corners, essentially. Because who wouldn’t?
(Take Jang Wonyoung for example:
Yes, she’s got the looks, fashion brands lining up to sign a deal with her when the time is right; even her brains is also a plus - if she feels like it - she wants to waste her time paying no care pleasing her peers with her smiles and light-hearted pick me demeanor (if she deems you worthy of getting to know her).
In short: She’s the kind of girl you’d want to be close with from the get-go. Someone to stay by your side through thick and thin when the balance between work and classes are in disarray.)
As for An Yujin:
“Bet that feels amazing, hm?”
The sound ripped out from your lungs is all confirming. A meld of being tense and pliable: just how she wants you.
“Shhh,” she murmurs into your sweat lined neck, “Lay back down for me, hun. I’ma fuck you good.” Her eyes are clearly blown out, lidded. Lips tiredly placed across your skin and the purple lighting on the ceiling above is all too hazy. “Lemme hit like it’s mine.”
“You can because it’s yours,” you rasp, gasping from the slide of her silicon cock slipping inside, parting your walls. Yujin’s already made you cum from her fingers - that wasn’t even ten minutes upon arriving. Soon after, you returned the favor by letting her ride your face, making you chase that reward until she eventually lets go. Now, she’s getting off at the sound of your breath stuttering, dragging back and slapping the rubber at your swollen folds. She’s already ruined you once, now she wants to do it again.
Yujin angles the phone up toward your chest, ensuring that your face isn’t in the picture. Thank god you made that agreement with her. Considering how word travels fast around the school and only very few people know about this secret side hustle. Her hair’s already a mess, running a hand through, biting her lip when she sees you wince at the dildo being halfway in - stomach clenching in reflex. “You look so good for me baby,” she says while gripping your breast, pinching a nipple.
“Fuck- please.” You sigh, mindlessly moving your hips to meet her thrust in the middle, eliciting a small whine past your teeth. Yujin’s hand then goes to your waist, fingers pressing down and pulling you towards her more. “Yujin, oh my god-”
“Yeah? You like that? Gonna be a good girl for me?” She asks, laughing at the expletive.
“Yes, yes-”
Yujin sees through your pained expression, pressing her body down, lifting the arch in your back to go higher, dip her fingertips in the small divots right above your ass. “Hold still - just like that, there we go.”
Her pace picks up in small increments, little by little for it to not hurt. Just the way you like them: slow and steady - get a rhythm going, let her earn the edge she desperately craves.
(It’s a bit ironic, thinking about your words and Wonyoung’s insight, because all the evidence Wonyoung needs to see are the marks where she imagines them to be on you and prove herself right.)
“Oh my god, oh my god-”
“So fucking wet for me,” says Yujin, wickedly astonished, her hips now hitting yours in full force - spreading you open and pushing her rubber cock deep, “tight little thing you are, hm?” You could feel the clench in your stomach get uncomfortable, the pulsing between the legs rising in heat.
She smiles at the lazy blinks, giggles at your bucking hiccups. “Baby, baby- please - keep pounding my pussy, hold my tit till you rip it off-”
“Asking for so much - jesus-”
You gasp, stray hand reaching for her neck. “Cause I know you wanna give it-”
“A filthy slut is what you are, babe.”
“You like it when I - ah - talk back- anyway.”
Yujin slips the silicone out, lays the underside on your clit, rubbing against it harshly. She sees you grind your teeth and white-knuckle her wrist, chest heaving and every passing breath more wrecked than the last-
“Honeybun,” she coos, finger-thumb combo to your chin, following her movements when she leans down for a kiss, slips her cock right back in - bottoms you out. The next move - reflexively, almost by instinct - rolling the hips into hers and making her stare at the body move, through the phone or with her own eyes. “Shit, look at you.”
Your lips are tilted at an angle, airily humming a sort of ‘mhm’, the side of your head on the mattress and pussy gushing all over the rubber. Yujin hunches over - the phone with the perfect money shot: kissing your cheek as your entire body bobbles against hers, placing a few more marks on your neck, your chest, anywhere where the red can be seen.
You swear when she raises her head over, you see her eyes shimmer a twinkle in adoration to the hot pink blush spread across. Hand caressing your cheek, cherishing the obscene picturesque look of her friend beneath - wanting to freeze this moment in time and capture it behind a screen.
The last shot for the video was capped off with Yujin’s thumb caught between your lips, eye mask covering the upper half of your face for insurance, then she tosses the phone somewhere on the bed. Lifts the eye mask and smirks in approval.
“That’s my good girl.”
–
Despite the short sprees of intimacy, it’s a bit humbling to remember that the relationship between you and Yujin is-
“Thanks for doing this with me again. People really liked the last one we did and requested for another.” She says to you, slapping the side of your thigh.
-mostly transactional.
You chuckle at Yujin, watching her plop down over your leg. “You texted me first, plus the half of my cut the first time was a lot more than I expected.”
Yujin ruffles her hair, pulls out the purple dildo left on the bed, sets it next to another sitting on the nightstand. She examines them closely and brushes it aside to deal with later. The phone she tossed is back in her hand and quickly reviewing the footage from earlier, showing care for the quality and checking to see if anything stands out to her.
“I liked the bandana mask from before,” you say, leaning to her side and feel her hand pat your face. “The eye cover was even better, removing one sense and elevating the others. What if we-”
“Are you asking about the ski mask now?” Yujin laughs, putting the phone closer for a better look. “Hmm, now that you’ve mentioned it, I’ll think about the idea and let you know my thoughts. To be honest, I kinda want Wony to be the one to wear it.”
“Is that why you got one in black and the other in pink?”
“Hey,” says Yujin, kissing your shoulder, “She told me about your situation, by the way.”
“Who? Wony?”
“What do you mean who?”
“Okay,” you’re sighing - not because of exhaustion, but because it wasn’t worth brushing aside - especially if one of your sources of income is aware of what's going on. “What did she say this time?”
Yujin clicks off the phone, twirls it between her fingers. “I’m saying that you should give this a try and make some money for yourself, instead of relying solely on me for half the cut.”
“Tempting, but I’ll pass.”
“Why?”
“Money is one of my issues,” you admit, knees to chin with a lowered gaze at Yujin. “I never liked the concept of putting my body on the internet for people to rub one out - just doesn’t sit right with me.”
“You do realize there’s other ways to get cash, right?”
No shit. You’re mouthing.
“If you really sit and think about the options,” Yujin continues, holding the phone in passing before taking it back, feet on the floor and shuffling over to the bathroom. “A decision would’ve been made already. Besides, for your case-” and Wonyoung's words ring again, “it could be worse.”
You rub your cheek, get your eyes full of a stretching Yujin and her swaying ass (since you have nothing else better to do) and take the advice: think.
“Well don’t just be moping around on my bed,” you hear her say. Watch as she lets one of her arms slide up against the doorframe. An art piece forming in real time - the kind you would caricature instantly with your irises. “Come wash up with me.”
–
Wonyoung and Yujin both tell you it could be worse; when that phrase is said, it’s (somewhat) comforting. Then you look at your bank statements and the hope is sucked right out:
Rent was due at the end of the month.
The utilities were just paid for, thanks to whatever was left from the recent loan you pulled, along with the decent tip money scrounged up to cover for other important necessities around the house. Lighting was also another debate since that could be solved with a few placed candles around the apartment for way less; the internet was already covered, and that one was a given. You purse your lips at the water bill; cheap and as it should be. You didn’t have to use it more than you liked or needed but- the fucking rent.
The fucking rent wasn’t something you could bullshit your way out of.
Most of the wine sitting at the coffee table’s been ran through, watching the minute pass on the computer screen. A check of the phone on your lap, contemplating. Yunjin did tell you to not hesitate on asking-
No. You knew your cousin didn’t have much to give on hand, and you couldn’t expect her to keep spewing out dollars upon dollars for every instance you catch yourself wanting- or needing, not when she herself needs it more. Not while she’s the one who gave you the heads up of how much grad school would cost, proving her point like she had said. You just can’t. It wasn’t right for doing that to her and being okay with it.
The issue stands: you can’t pay rent let alone live in general. Your landlord’s been on your ass for last month’s payment as it is.
So you lean your head back, sigh, pinch your temple on both sides, frustrated. Scratching your head and grinding teeth. There’s no easy solution to this, and you don’t know what to even do.
You’ve been living like this for as long as you could remember, compartmentalizing. Focus on not letting one part of your life take over the other. School shouldn’t bleed into your social and work life. One bad exam grade doesn’t give you the luxury to sit in the corner of your room and panic. There was one thing - only, one thing to do: get better, improve from yesterday, and spare the emotions. Find a groove. Yunjin kept preaching to you through college: “find a groove, and stick with it.”
A groove. Staring into the black void of your phone. If you can’t find a groove, then make one.
“It could be worse.”
You inhale, click your tongue, feel the rush of blood in your veins. Adrenaline pricks at your nerves at the slap-down motion of your laptop and swap of the phone, tapping the app store icon. The thought fills your mind somewhere along the lines of: ‘look, i don’t want to, i don’t need to’. Then again, you have to, because you never have enough of the money, and a second job - on top of being a full-time grad student - that alone still won’t be enough; it’ll never be enough. You have to. You’ve got to. Rent stays due once the sun goes down.
A nail taps the screen on the rosy colored app, downloading. Once installed, you push past the idea of tossing your phone across the room and forget trying; go to the balcony and just get rid of it entirely. That’s just another expense to pay off, and you can’t afford the current one either.
One sip of the wine, you swallow your ego and make the profile.
–
Matches start spilling in like emails, and your phone’s receiving a disgusted look from you.
The line was already drawn pushing 30 and above; plus the idea of talking to someone older than you was a big no no, even if it’s for a simple dinner. Most of the women you see are very unappealing. Most of the superficial profiles are either cookie cut with a short synopsis of their life and skeevy. Worst case scenario and all, it wasn’t a viable solution in terms of money.
Disappointment flushes out the last bits of hope you had left, tears almost start coming out.
(You’ve only had three relationships in your entire life - more or less serious to a degree. Two of them were in high school, and the recent one back in undergrad: Chaewon. She was a sweetheart, kind, and very understanding. Sometimes she could come off as arrogant, having brought up most things practically handed to her, but she was a good one, down to a ‘T’. Most of the blame falls on you; because of your high ceiling while Chaewon wanted to take it easy, and you couldn’t make ends meet, knowing that there was a lingering hold. Despite having all the boxes ticked off and encapsulated in a human being, despite the fact you loved her - earnestly, and truly - she wasn’t the one: Chaewon wasn’t the person you wanted to spend the rest of your years with.)
Giselle Uchinaga isn’t a strong pick either, big woop, you’re thinking to yourself here, distancing yourself from the screen, another new notification. It shouldn’t even come as a surprise.
Like any of that mattered, right? A long term lover wasn’t what you signed up for on the app.
You click the bolded name. Her profile comes up sparse as it was a few hours ago. With a description of her job: head prosecutor - attached with five photos, none of them were glamorous, but in a tailored blazer or dress. All of the photos exuded an importance, although - with severity. This was a woman who clearly knows what she wants and for her to attain it was all but guaranteed. In the scheme of levels, she’s leagues above a nobody like you.
So you press the message icon. You expected nothing less:
Aeri <3: fancy a nice outing with me?
You: hi! You’re messaging back, brows creased white your thumbs have a twiddling mind of their own. i’d love to have dinner with you!
Aeri <3: awesome! A few moments pass at the three dots next to her icon, the lump ballooning in your throat as you’re reading: how does this weekend sound? And before anything else, yes. you will be compensated at the end.
The air passes your teeth, tapping the edge of the screen. Heart thumping between your ears, above the ringing. You have the choice to say no, delete the app and convince yourself you never had a part in this debacle to begin with. Click on Yunjin’s contact info and call her. What could cover the cost of your pride anyway, that could suffice this?
Too bad your mind’s already set on what to say before you message back:
You: deal. tell me the details. <333
–
“A fucking sugar mommy?”
Hunting her down on campus was one thing - Wonyoung dragging you to the library once she got the bombshell news in pure disbelief was definitely another: “Do you hear yourself?! A sugar mom-”
“I know!” You’re shushing, looking over the cubicle. And it looks like some of the other students sitting close by seem to have noticed the spike in sound. “Look- nothing’s set in stone. I verbally agreed to go have dinner with her.”
“Still,” adds Wonyoung, leaning back with a leg crossed, eyes dazed. “It’s you. Of all people, to actually take my advice and- girl you just lost your virginity a while back.”
“Whoa, what the fuck does that mean?”
“A vibrator or dildo doesn’t count, by the way.”
“I was referring to Chaewon!”
“The same Chaewon you split with three years ago. Case in point,” Wonyoung says. Bewilderment now transferred to you, greatly amused. “You really outdid yourself here.”
“Only because I took your word.”
“Yeah! But when the hell do you ever listen to me?” She retorts, palms on her chin and staring. “Well? Aren’t you gonna show me what she looks like?”
“Didn’t really need to,” you say dryly, pulling your phone out. “Her and I aren’t exactly talking.”
“Oh but she is,” Wonyoung replies, taking it. You glance from her face to Giselle’s profile, expression shifting to a slight frown. “She’s pretty, but I don’t know-”
“Don’t know what?”
“Well- I mean…”
You tense, nick your head. “You did say, some women will pay for company. She also said there’s compensation for the dinner but that’s about it.”
“Sounds good enough,” Wonyoung chuckles, scrolling down the exchange, stopping at a selfie you sent to prove that you were a legit human and not an ai: per her request you might add. “Any idea what you’re gonna wear when you see her?”
“Maybe a simple cocktail piece. The restaurant she suggested is at a hotel. Probably nothing too crazy.”
“Honey, I’ve seen your closet. Not a single cocktail dress in sight.”
“Uh, the dark blue one. Where it stops at the shoulders.”
Wonyoung’s face is written with shock. “The same dress you wore to senior prom? When you were seventeen?”
“What’s wrong with it? I think it’s nice.”
Wonyoung then slaps her hand down on the table, gripping your wrist. With a look that makes your middle clench from embarrassment; the kind of look that entails a variety of her statements and the difference in priorities, the obvious gap between classes. “No offense, but you’re fucking gorgeous. I think you’d look dashing in a threaded burlap sack; but with that dress? No way. Not at- what was the name of the place again?”
“The Astoria.”
She then lets go of your arm in a slapping fashion - like she’s disgusted to touch you, a passerby looks down at the both of you. “The Astoria? My god. Fuck no. I’m not letting you step out of the apartment if you’re gonna wear that dress, especially if it looks like you just thrifted the damn piece.”
Fair to her for calling you out, since she was right. No point in arguing. “It’s not like I have anything else to fall back on.”
“I have a bunch of dresses I don’t use. I’ll lend you one.”
“It won’t fit. I’m your height but your waist is more defined than mine.”
“That’s true, so it’ll fit!” Wonyoung beams with hands on her hips.
“Yujin can also be of help with her opinion.” You suggest at the thought of it, shrugging.
“Go ask her! We have a similar frame and she should have something for you to borrow.”
You slouch on the comfy seat, uncomfortable. It wasn’t your style to ask for anything. “Is that fine? The dress I have should be fine-”
“Believe me, it won’t. And Yujin adores you but also loves having fun even more. She’ll be hooked if you text her right now.”
“I’ll take your word,” you remark while Wonyoung speeds to her best friend’s contact info, fingers moving at high speed. A millisecond passes before she smiles and puts the phone in your eyes. You can see the dry reply - quite predictable, too - since she’s busy working and not with you two: i’m down. have her come over later and we’ll see what works.
“Odds are she hands you the black one.” Wonyoung tells you, mocha eyes shimmering, the muted lights from above enhancing the effect. “I bought her that a while back. It’s a bit tight at the hips but it makes the shoulders pop, let alone wrap around the neck. Oh- you’re gonna look so hot now that I’m imagining it.”
“Hot is one thing,” you laugh, face flushed. “It’s just-”
“Dinner, right.” She nods, texting. “A first impression on a date is always important. When is it happening?”
You cringe at the word date, leaving an uneasy feeling in the chest. A twisted formation so perverse what romance is in today’s world. “Friday.”
“Sick. I’ll grab the dress and head over to help. You’re gonna need my makeup too, if you’d like?”
You blink at Wonyoung, heat rising on your face. You could’ve said no; you didn’t know how to. How to remind her that this was transnational, and there shouldn’t be any excitement towards this. Before you can even utter a word, Wonyoung clasps both your hands, grinning.
“Ooooh you’re gonna have so much fun!”
–
Friday comes around quickly, leaving you little to no time to prepare, but Wonyoung arrives exactly as she said. Right at 7:30 pm, smiling at the door with the dress in one arm and the makeup bag in the other. Waltzing in and flaunting her hair, dressed up as if she was the one going out.
Hanging the makeup bag to her head. “How do you want to do this?”
–
Now in your bedroom, last from the kitchen and bathroom down the hall. Wonyoung sets the bag on your bed before turning on the vanity and settling in on the seat. Pulling a pouch with the assorted products, in all name brands: the eyeshadow, blush, bronzer, eyeliner pencils. Chanel, MAC, Dior, YSL.
“Are you excited?” Wonyoung asks cheerily, hair neatly done in a low, messy bun. “Hm?”
“Not really.” The answer alone comes out easier, in truth. You’re not excited, clearly. You’re- “Terrified.”
“Huh? Why?”
“I don’t even know the woman.” You plop on your bed, sighing, looking at the dress then shying away since it’s haunting. “Her and I have only talked a bit. She’s way older with a status and rich and-”
“And?” Wonyoung asks, swiveling to you. “You’ve met my sister and dad. Both equally important, not to mention- one’s a board chairman and the other’s a full time model.”
“You see- that’s different, Wony. I’m not your dad’s sugar baby.”
“No I know, though-”
“I’m being serious.” You snap, nerves thin, as they have since you agreed to the date in the first place. Since you were running on fumes money wise as there was no other option but this. “Going out with a complete stranger for money? I can’t tell what’s gonna happen and I’m fucking scared.”
“Right.” Wonyoung yields, sobering. All her humor soaked up in a second. “I’m sorry for being a total bitch.”
You mumble an apology, steering your head away, embarrassed by the harsh tone. Wonyoung stands up and shuffles her way to you. Grabbing your shoulders, steeling a sharp look. “Do you want to call it off?”
“What?”
“Do you want to back out?” She repeats. “If you’re feeling uneasy, you can cancel it. There’s nothing wrong in doing so.”
“I- I don’t,” you look Wonyoung in the eyes and down at the floor. It’s been a bit overdue for a cleaning day, but you’ve been caught up with other priorities that overshadowed a simple chore like that-
“No. I can’t. I can’t do that.”
“There’s always another way to make money. Why don’t you call-”
“Call Yunjin and ask her,” you say dejectedly. “I’d rather sleep with Giselle than ask Yunjin for her help.”
Wonyoung pulls a grin and stands tall with her hands up in surrender. “You did say it was just dinner, after all.”
“Just dinner,” you’re sighing, relieved. That’s the truth. The only truth. If she expected more, it would’ve been brought up by now.
“Okay.” Wonyoung smiles, crossing her arms. “Let’s get you ready, then.”
–
The uber - paid by Wonyoung - sends you off to the Astoria right at 9; just like Giselle said she’d be there.
You wave off the driver as they roll away, tugging the coat tightly around you. Beneath the layer was the black dress, stopping right above the knees, still tight. Tighter than expected, but you’re reminded of the item’s true owner. You have always kept yourself in shape, aside from the hips and breasts are- defined, for a better word. At the ripe age of eighteen and the history of finding the correct bra size since then.
Yujin and Wonyoung, both tall and slim, like couture models. Thus, the dress lent to you would be a more snug fit than you first hoped, stretching at the swell and lifting your breasts up a few inches than what you’re used to. A better description would be one of those mannequins on the window, and the thought clouds your mind once you step inside the pristine hotel, palming your stomach to relax the anxiety: owned.
You’d rather plaster the marble floor with your earlier meal.
A lady at the desk motions you to the restaurant once you ask. While walking away, you wonder if she can sense the regret wafting off your shoulder. Plus if she noticed, what does she think? This wouldn’t be the first time she saw a girl like you. Look the way you do, with cheap heels and expensive clothing, handed down from refined women. How old would they be? Are they younger? You can’t shake the feeling. Someone like you who’s young and resorting to this.
One of the hostesses greets you with a smile. “Good evening, ma’am. Are you meeting with someone?”
“Yes. I believe there’s a reservation?” You answer, rushed. “Giselle Uchinaga. Said to come at 9. Is she here already?”
“Let me see.” Looking down at the iPad on the podium, scrolling down. Her brows furrow, then her gaze returns. “Ah, got it. I do see a Giselle Uchinaga on the list but she hasn’t checked in.”
“Oh.” You breathe, ignoring the relief rushed down on your body. “Can- is it possible for me to wait for her at the table?”
Her face goes sympathetic. “I’m sorry. I’m afraid I can’t get you seated until we have final confirmation with the person who made the reservation. Just to ensure no tables get mixed up or stolen.”
“Ah. Er- so, do I just wait? Or leave?”
“We have some seats open at our bar in the meantime,” the hostess tells you, hand directing you to the left. “I assume it’s only for a couple minutes.”
You give a smile and say thanks, heading for the bar. Angled adjacent to the main tables. The appearance is like the hotel: opulent. Most of the counters are coated with a dark shade. Stools are golden to the ground, the cushions soft and velvet when you sit atop it. A woman with pretty features smiles once the bearings are in place. Thankfully, you aren’t the only one sitting at the bar. “Hi. Can I get you started with anything?”
You pause for a second. Drinking wasn’t on the agenda tonight. Not to mention you’re a lightweight, and you didn’t want fluids in your system that could hinder the sensibilities, but-
“Yeah, I’ll have an appletini, please?”
She tells you right away and gets to business, mixing up the beverage with efficiency that leaves you impressed. A good distraction for where you are. Soon the martini gets placed in front of you; give a nod in acknowledgement, pinching the straw. “Y’know, I was a bartender too, for a time.”
“You were?”
You tweak your head. “Swapped over to waitressing, instead.”
“Really?” The bartender’s eyes flick down to your dress, now curious. You play the blush off your face. “Nice date planned tonight?”
“Um, well-”
Suddenly, an older woman sitting a few chairs over calls the bartender’s attention. She gives you a look while stepping away. You glance over and sigh, preparing a sip of the martini. It goes down quickly, and you’re trying to keep a slow pace going.
–
Unfortunately, you don’t.
–
Nearly an hour passes; you’re still sitting at the bar, a second glass now next to the empty first one, and you’re woozily staring at the half-drunken bev. The bartender - Kang Seulgi, aka: your new friend - stands on the opposite side, washing a cup and drying it; a bit clichè for her taste and everything.
“Should I call someone?” Seulgi asks, concerned.
“I think my friend Irene would like you,” you tell her, sitting forward; the question doesn’t even register in your head. “She has black hair, a tad shorter-” holding a hand out and in waves above your head, “-plus she’s cute.”
“I’m flattered,” she remarks. “Don’t remember asking for a matchmaker, so-”
“A good amount of people don’t ask for a lot of things, but some are given to them regardless.”
“That’s very honest of you.”
“Hah,” you laugh and swivel in the chair. “My cousin did say I’m just a gloomy brat with a loud mouth.”
“Is your cousin around the area? Are they able to pick you up?”
“Nah,” you sigh. “She lives, like- two hours away. I live here for school.”
“Okay, then what about your friend Irene? Can she pick you up?”
“Irene’s studying or sleeping, either one of the two,” you answer, waving her off. A revelation crosses your mind, and you smirk. “I can set you up with her. Show her insta profile.”
Seulgi’s shoulders drop and stares. “Sure- yeah, lemme see.”
Your teeth show and you’re fishing through your coat, messily folded on the seat next to you. Pulling out your phone and scrolling down the texts. No message from Giselle, but that was anticipated, long after you convinced yourself about being stood up - which didn’t affect you that much. The loss of money crept your mind above anything else. It’s the reason why you haven’t gone home yet.
“There,” you’re saying, now on instagram. “Her handle’s cute: renebaebae. You could shoot her a DM.”
“She’s pretty,” Seulgi smiles, settling a wink. She darts a look up from the phone, slips into the professional demeanor again. “Hello, welcome. What can I get started for you?”
A woman takes the seat over on the right. She’s set her coat off next to her with both sleeves rolled to the elbow. You notice the length of her forearms, stopping at the silver seiko, moving up to see the mixed wolf-bob cut she has going on. Every part of your body freezes when she takes notice - her brown eyes pool cold, curious.
A whisky glass is set in front of her. It’s just you and her on this side of the bar. Seulgi is nowhere within eyeshot.
“I’m sorry,” she starts, “Is something wrong?”
“No.” You shug her off with another sip. Sadly, she doesn’t have the same regard.
“You’re drunk, aren’t you.”
“No.” You look back, holding the glass. “I’m not.”
The woman huffs, glances down at the seat occupied by your coat, motioning a silent inquiry. You move the coat to the opposite seat and let her move into it. Her perfume is the first thing you catch: a cozy aroma calming to the nostrils, warm even. The shine of green in her watch reflects from the hazy lights above, sleek black heels and the unbuttoned wrists folded nicely. Like she’s comfortable in this environment - a palace riddled with wealth. She could probably sense the fraudulent appearance underneath your dress, the paper-thin expression on your face and clearly see through-
“Were you on a date?” She asks again.
“No.” Playing on the defensive, compounded with regret, and you wished the alcohol kicked in earlier. “What brings you here?”
“Drinking.” She answers, downing the whisky with ease. Your eyes get full of the bob of her throat while her mouth airs out the burn of the aftertaste. “Also had a late shift, some last minute calls,” she tells you, lips tugged.
“A meeting at the Astoria?” This might be a bigger deal than you thought.
“Actually, it was a meeting at the J Medical Center followed by a small team dinner. A majority of my coworkers are stingy guys who stay out late and talk about hitting on the nurses so I ditched them to come here instead.
“Medical- doctor?”
“Neurosurgeon.” She supplies, soft smiled. “What’s your gig?”
“Server,” you answer lazily, clearing your throat. “Plus I’m in uni. Grad program too.”
“Cool. Must be going well, I hope.”
You stare, tilt to your fist. “You don’t look like the neurosurgeon type.”
“Says everyone else.”
“Tell me your age.” You say, and her gaze shifts, enough to slice through yours in one swift motion, harshly. “Oh- I didn’t mean-”
“You’re not lying when I asked if you were on a date?” She asks once more, and you grab the glass on reflex, turning away for another swig. You know what she meant and unsure to determine if it was genuine or she’s having fun mocking you. She turns her wrist over and presses the latch, taking off her watch, clutching the arm soon after and moving her hand, confessing:
“Thirty.” The woman with a misleading appearance tells you, “Name’s Yu Jimin. Though, Karina is what they usually know me by on the nametag.”
Seven years, huh. Good enough, I guess. Then you roll your name off to her. She repeats it, discovering how well it curls across someone else’s tongue, and you’d want to hear it more. “Lovely to meet you.”
Seulgi swings by, taking the hint with another whisky and martini. You catch her look of reservation when offering - the expenses on the tab tallying up, but why should you care. After the shitshow you just went through, all stress and anxiety pent up, you don’t see any reason to contemplate; it’s a downward spiral as it is.
So you keep plummeting: “I suggest a toast?”
“It’s your third drink of the night.”
“What about it?”
“I need more than two whiskeys to deal me in.”
“No, then.”
“Have you even checked your tab tonight?” Karina exhales, making you wince. “Three appletinis, and a Long Island. Hell, they don’t cost that much, but that’s over a hundred, easy; especially in a place like this. You didn’t come to the Astoria just to get drunk here, did you?”
Ah, and the condescending tone doesn’t make it any better. So the admission of guilt spills easy. “I- got invited.”
“Who invited you?”
“Someone that isn’t here.”
“A date, then.”
“No.”
“So who gave you the invite? ‘
“A person.”
“Person of your age? Guy? Girl? I don’t wanna assume too much.”
You smirk bitterly and swirl the glass. “Not my age.”
“Older, gotcha.” It’s enough to be a conclusive answer. “Let me get this right: it’s not a date, but we have you - an attractive graduate student - invited here by someone years older. Are they? Uh-”
“A woman sent me the invite.”
“Can I ask another thing?”
“Keep ‘em coming.”
Karina hesitates before her eyes go flat. “Why did you say yes?”
“For the money.” There really wasn’t any other explanation than that.
You could feel her gaze ooze over you, in judgement - probably in disgust as well; worse comes to worse, she could tear up the vulnerability and give her piece of mind. To your surprise, she sighs with a curse beneath her breath and rubs her cheek, raking fingers in her hair. “That’s too bad,” she tells you, glancing. Her sympathy leaves you in a slight shock. “I feel sorry for you.”
“Y-you, it’s fine.”
“She’s a bitch for hanging you dry, fuck her. It isn’t everyday women make those kinds of decisions. It’s even more insane they don’t put in the time to search for a proper lover and resort to girls like you, the kind who can’t take no for an answer.”
“Love was never in the equation.”
Her face frowns, balling a fist. “So it’s sex, then.”
Your mouth drops. “Not sex. God, no.”
“If not sex, now what?”
“Just the presence,” you say, posturing. “Dinner is the common outlier. They pay and that’s it. It’s what everyone’s been talking about on social media these days.”
“Spoken like true dumbasses. What good does a women get in being a sugar mommy and take advantage of a younger woman who looks like you for a simple fucking dinner? Where’s the connection?”
Karina’s words mince your heart into shreds. All of the things she’s saying is the truth you’ve been blindly denying for the past week and a half, and you’re beating yourself down for thinking you could be at their level; to have full pride in their wallets, like Wonyoung.
“Did you drive here?” Karina asks, snapping you out of your trance.
“I, uh- huh?”
She then stands up, shrugging on her coat. It dawns once the realization sets in that she’s freaking leaving. “Did you drive here?”
“No, I got an uber.”
Karina waves a hand up, motioning Seulgi to come back. She turns her head away to whisper a request - the tab, you assume, before turning around. “What time was the date?”
“Nine.” You deadpan.
Her lips pull outward. “Not sugarcoating it or anything, but you got stood up.”
“Yeah,” you shrug. It’s better when she says it like it is.
Karina adjusts the watch back on her wrist, fixing her disheveled hair, but with an intent. Enticing. Seulgi keeps her gaze as she hands a red, thin booklet, and Karina whips out her wallet. You stare down at the coaster, shying away from transactions.
“This girl is a waste of your time,” says Karina, giving Seulgi a nod as she swivels to the computer behind her.
“Among other things,” you relent.
“My advice is to delete the- app?” She adds on, putting on her glasses with an arched brow. You nod. “Right, the app. I’m not a fan of how it sounds already.”
“You’re not wrong.”
Karina steps away, and you’ve got your tongue in cheek.
Nothing else is said between you too, besides a gentle chin dip of acknowledgement. One heel turn and you focus on her back, sliding away between the tables until she eventually exits. Soon, you’re facing Seulgi again, flinching when she’s holding the same red booklet to you. “Did- am I? Did she-”
“Mhm,” nods Seulgi, smirking.
You take the bill away from her hands, letting the red cover’s weathered texture graze your fingertips. Once you open it, the price isn’t the first thing you see, but the cute stack of cash; a couple hundred dollars. Shit- it might be even more.
Aside from the numbers written on the tip line and the total above it, there’s a note in the blank space below with the penmanship so elegant it’s a mere tidbit of high intelligence:
“Something for you to help with grad school, although not by much. And for answering most of my questions without getting drunk.
- Karina.”
“Gave me a good tip, too. Covering you and her,” Seulgi says. “I think you scored big without even trying.”
You keep the booklet open, feeling the gentle fuzz off the cash, bewildered.
–
You’re fiddling with the folded wad of cash, totaling up to six hundred. Six. Hundred.
A thoughtful gesture by a stranger, and yet you thought being stood up was the craziest part-
In the purse was the receipt, undecided whether to toss the slip of paper out. If it wasn’t for Karina’s company, her willingness to stay. You would have to call her eventually, in thanks, give back the money, then ask why you - of all people, would even hand that amount of cash to a poor human being; wallowing away in drinks at a bar. It literally makes no fucking sense-
The buzz of your phone catches you off guard, turning over a shoulder to fish it out of your bag. Wonyoung’s smile appears on the screen, hesitating for a second before answering. “Hi, Wony.”
“Heyyy,” she answers, all sing-song-like. “I’m with Yujinie right now and you’re on speaker. Go say hi.”
“Hi, Yujin.”
“Yo,” Yujin says back. Wonyoung’s voice then returns. “How’d it go?”
“Well, uh-” you look through your purse, the wad of cash in your fingers, slightly shaking. “Okay, I guess.”
“Take it that Giselle wasn’t as terrifying as you thought?” Wonyoung chimes optimistically.
“She- I, she never came through.”
“HUH?!” You cringe away from your phone. “She never came through?! What do you mean??”
“Left me hanging. She left me hanging.”
“Aw, babe. I- I don’t even know what to say…”
“You’re good, don’t worry.”
“So we did all of this for nothing?” Yujin asks, shocked. “You mean to tell me I gave you my dress and you went to one of the most prestigious hotels in the entire city and you got done dirty? Fucking wild.” You could hear Wonyoung tap Yujin to settle down but you huff in relent, very much appalled on your own part.
“Wasn’t for nothing,” you mumble as the line goes silent.
“Hm? Did you say something, love?” Wonyoung asks again.
“Um- nothing. It wasn’t for nothing,” you repeat. “But I met someone there, and she-
“She what?”
Telling the tale alone wouldn’t make much sense, but you confess either way in little faith. “I got six hundred dollars from her.”
You’re left hanging on the call. Picturing them trying to put it together. Until- Yujin bursts out laughing, “Please don’t tell me you made a scene at the restaurant to get that kind of cash-”
“Yujin!” Wonyoung butts in.
“I’m just saying! A rich, older woman gives our girl here, money- for free, and not be interested?” Yujin reasons, a valid take all three of you might agree on.
“Yujin, you-” the stutter dribbles along your teeth while you roll your eyes. “We just talked. That’s it. Nothing happened and plus, she isn’t old.”
“So, is she cute, though?” You hear Wonyoung ask.
The image of Karina’s side profile, the unbuttoned shirt, her toned forearms, and that syrupy-sweet tone in tandem with her tongue pops up in your head. “Yes.”
“Why did she give you cash, then? If you’re saying nothing happened between you two?” Yujin then asks again.
“It doesn’t make sense to me, either,” you tell Yujin, setting the stack of cash on the table. “My guess is that she was sympathetic to my situation.”
“Sympathetic?” And Yujin's chortle sounds off on the phone. “You really think so?”
“She asked me why I was at the bar. Didn’t like the whole summary of it. Uneasy, bothered.”
“Sounds to me like a real catch,” Wonyoung then says, imagining the smile on her lips; even with the good-willed act, to say that Karina was a blessing out of thin air would be an understatement. You could sense the intensity to her being - a kindness going above natural decency. You still can’t determine if she would do it for someone other than you.
(It still leaves your head wondering: why me? You didn’t do jack shit to get anything like that at all.)
“Maybe there’s more to it than what’s shared,” Yujin concedes bluntly. “Doesn’t sit right with me why she would be so nice to you.”
Wonyoung coos in agreement. “What’s the verdict, then?”
“I’m not sure. If it wasn’t for that, I would’ve said something by now.”
“My next move would be to ask her why.” Wonyoung suggests, and Yujin makes a sound in disgust, laughing soon after. “There’s nothing bad about being curious.”
You get the receipt out of the purse and the stack of cash set beside it, examining both pieces of the event to get some theories going. Karina’s name written in cursive is all you see.
“I wish that weren’t the case,” you mumble, fiddling the pieces of paper.
–
Curse the optics, for making you think the way you do.
Shamelessly doom scrolling on the app (which you should’ve deleted after the abysmal ‘date’) before you see the unnamed contact and click on the texts to Karina. The blue bubbles on the bottom right fill your eyes, and you should’ve thrown your phone off the freaking balcony earlier: hi! sorry to bother. you remember me, right? from the bar earlier?
hey. Karina messages right away, just as you expected at this hour. ofc i remember you. how could i not?
nice. You reply back, thumbs frozen mid text. i think you left something of yours, with me
it was on purpose
i’m really sorry. as much as i appreciate the kind gesture. i can’t accept this amount of cash
what makes you say that?
you’re a complete stranger and the money is a lot
i’d prefer to give it back
you don’t have to- Karina types before you could even double down on the offer. i just did what i thought was right
And not even a second later: is it okay if i call you?
You stare at the lone message, stumped. Saying no would be playing it safe - pass on the chance of hearing her voice not long after she’s given you divine kindness. Doesn’t change the fact, however: she gave you a lot of freaking money. Having a conversation regarding the matter would be the next best course of action.
You’ll bite at the proposition: go for it.
–
By fine timing, you’re quick to switch over to the phone app and call the contact, letting the line simmer for a second before it picks up. “Uhm, he- hello?”
“Hi.” Karina answers on the other end, deep and monotone. The girl had been asleep - possibly waking up just for you. “Do you know what time it is right now?”
“No- I know. I just-”
“-wanted to talk?”
“For one part, yes.” Your ear hears the gentle rustle of the sheets in the background. “Why won’t you let me repay the favor?”
“What’s the reason for it? It was completely my choice.”
“I want to. I just- can’t.” You breathe. “Even if I could, I’m not exactly liquid with my funds-”
“I didn’t give you the cash because I assumed you would owe me; and if I’m being truthful, I didn’t think I’d ever cross paths with you again. Consider me being nice.”
“I can’t accept this,” you repeat. “Though I admire the thought. This is your six hundred dollars which you worked for-”
“I can make that amount within a few hours.” Karina replies back. “It’s nothing.”
“I’m not saying you can’t, but-” you pitifully look up to the ceiling, “Look, as much as I appreciate it. I just can’t.”
The line goes quiet, then: “Do you ever take kindness from others?”
“What?”
“From the gist of it, you don’t like it when people do favors for your behalf.”
This woman. “You- I, what do you mean?”
“Forget it.” Karina sighs, definitely pressed. “It’s not like I can make you keep something you don’t want.”
Now it’s back to square one: “Would you let me give you back the cash?”
“You could either do that, or just use it for a good cause. Maybe shred the money if it makes you feel better-”
“God, no.” You say, petrified. “I can just return it.”
Karina’s end goes silent again. Your toes curl against the hardwood floor beneath and you have this overbearing sensation on your head, waiting for the final answer to be said. And then-
“Let’s backtrack. Why don’t we discuss this over lunch?””
“Lunch?”
“Tomorrow at 3. Lunch.” Karina repeats again. “Is that okay with you?”
“Well, I- uh-”
“If it makes it easier then you can mail it to me. Whatever works best.”
“Did you just ask me out?”
Her laugh curls in your ear canal, cracking along the spores in the speakers. Like it’s intentional, deliberate. “I mean, if that’s alright with you.”
You think back to meeting Karina at the bar, beneath the ambient honey lights. How she gave you her utmost attention while speaking, the way her cold gaze shifted to a more gentle comforting one when she found out why you were down. When you kept your eyes on her as she left, after waiting to be noticed for so long. The agreement passes your lips so fast you barely think twice about it: “Okay. We can have lunch. I’ll have lunch- with you.”
“Awesome,” and you swear you can picture the smile on her face. “I’ll message you beforehand?”
“Yep.”
“Gotcha. See you soon.”
“Goodnight,” you mumble, and your phone hits the floor once she hangs up. There isn’t much time to process, speed-dialing Wonyoung’s phone number.
She sounds annoyed, not to mention a gruff the first few seconds of answering. You’re certain her and Yujin were fucking. “What- what the hell do you want now?!”
“This is more important. I need to borrow another dress from one of you two.”
–
Forty-five minutes prior, Karina sends a text: gonna need a raincheck on that lunch. i got paged.
You, with your back straight away from the chair, in the middle of fixing your lashes, you look confused at the phone: paged? what the hell happened?
one of the fucking doctors in my department suffered a freak accident so i had to step in for his shift
As if today couldn’t be any shitter already, some fucking life i have, hm?
im sorry to hear that, you reply, with the most forced, sad faced text you could ever pull from your ass: :(
Like that ever did much to stomach the disappointment rising within, feeling sympathetic. However, that’s not your style as you type. do you actually have to cancel today then? ://
yes. technically, Karina says. its just for lunch. tho i can move it back to dinner
you’d reckon you’ll be out by then?
best bet i’ll be off by 8. if you’d want i can swing by around 9 so there’s more time for u in getting ready and all
You’re pinching your neck, leaning down on your thumb.
deal :)
great, and it’s a done deal for Karina’s part alright: see u at 9.
–
You flinch at the knock on wood when it’s heard, turning back to see the clock: ten past nine. You’re also not a picky person for time, so it isn’t anything to lull over about.
“Just a second!” You’re yelling down the hallway, glossing over a final check of your appearance. Keeping it mellow with the velvet red dress Yujin loaned you (god bless her, seriously). Like the black one prior: it’s short but fitted, with the neckline right past your upper chest. Even the lipstick’s a matching shade, in red. Wonyoung always said that was one of the few colors you stood out in.
A quick touch up on the hair at the entryway, and you’re toeing the black pumps. Here’s the moment of truth: opening the door after calming the nerves.
Karina stands on the other end, hand pocketing in her slacks and the other with a small bundle of roses she promptly extends out as an offering. You cradle them and look her in the eye, seeing her gaze traverse from head to toe. Then in reverse. “Hi,” she greets, and you’re already forgetting the anxiety.
“Hi,” you say back, sheepish. “Very thoughtful of you. Bonus points for the construction paper.”
Karina grins in acknowledgement, and you notice the flush of red peeking through the sides of her ears. You take it upon yourself to set the bouquet down to the nearby table behind, biting down the laugh.
She sees you come back at the door, open-handed. “Ready?”
“Please,” you reply, taking her arm and wrapping around it, amazed with the mannerism. “Lead the way.”
–
“Now that we’re here,” Karina starts, menu flat to the table, face motionless and grave. “Tell me about the deal.”
“What?” You snap your gaze back from the crystalized light strips. The diner she took you to was a little less fancy compared to the Astoria.
(Emphasis on the less.)
“We’re not just eating good food,” Karina prods, “Part of this was for us to get talking. In a more proper setting.”
You huff. “Did I mention your car? I mean, with that price, I swear that’s more worth than my-”
“Hey,” she stops you. It’s got the same effect as being slapped in the face. “You want to say something. I can tell. Go ahead, say what you want to say. Cut the bull.”
“Alright,” and props to her for helping you fall back into the mindset - compartmentalizing what matters most: “Why’d you give me the six hundred dollars?”
“Because I wanted to. You looked like you needed it.”
“Yeah, but-” you slouch your shoulders with a small pout, “-why? Did you actually feel bad about my predicament?”
“A bit.”
“Then why pity me?” You ask, voice solemn.
“I didn’t.”
“If you say you didn’t then what is it?”
“I used to be like you at one point. I understood.”
“I’m not following.”
“Dead end job, struggling to make ends meet, bottom of the barrel methods to get cash. Everyone’s who on the track to grad school; regardless if it’s law, medical, public work, the fucking circus- they’ve all come to a point where they realize how really fucking hard it is to get by.”
You pinch the table cloth from beneath, blinking. “You showed empathy to me?”
“Essentially,” is what Karina agrees on, leaning back all smug. Your eyes wander in thought. “I thought it’d be pretty straightforward for your sake.”
“Giving a random person like me hundreds of dollars within an hour isn't as common as you think. Pardon my interpretation.”
“Would it make you feel better,” she begins, “to give the money back?”
“Oh, yes.” You answer easily.
“Why don’t we switch things up?” Popping up another icebreaker in no time flat. “What’s your major?”
“Karina, don’t-”
Her hand reaches for yours. All you see is brown eyes in your field of vision. “What are you studying in?”
You hold your breath. Falling into Karina’s charms wasn’t the plan; Yunjin would have your head if she knew Karina was taking it. But fuck she’s making it extremely difficult, nodding as you share: “I’m working towards to get my master’s in Psychology, and using that to help with kids.”
“Working well with kids, huh.”
“It’s cool,” you smile, softening up. “I had a stint in a school district where I worked with kindergarteners and I loved it. Kids are- easier to handle in comparison to people my age.”
“Wait- hang on, you lost me for a second. Explain.”
“They’re not complicated in any way,” you say. “Expectations are low, nothing much besides asking for more playtime or water and food. And they’re easy to get along with. They don’t talk much unless they want to and they aren’t super judgemental, so it’s nice.” You hit all the marks, and Karina’s lips are parted with a quirked brow from the facts.
“Amazing you see them like that,” she tells you, thumb skimming your knuckles. “Doesn’t sound too bad coming from you.” Your heart stutters in place and it feels like electricity coursing over your skin. “Very comforting.”
“What makes you say that? Are you speaking from past experiences?”
“I’m more in between one and the other. But it’d be cool to have that luxury,” replies Karina.
“You got siblings?”
“I do. A sister.”
“Wow.” That’s a new one.
“Doesn’t seem like it, yeah?” she laughs, “Even though it is. Anyone ever mentioned you’re hilarious?” Karina’s eyeline peaks as you’re chuckling, in moderation. “Are you the same?”
“Unfortunately I’m an only child,” you answer. Usually you’d stave off expanding on this - the typical turnabout tale of your upbringing, but Karina’s presence robs any kind of reticence whatsoever. “Both of my parents weren’t around that much so my aunt and cousin have been taking care of me since.”
“Aw,” Karina laces her fingers into yours and clings at the minor pull. “Forget I asked.”
“Oh- you’re fine,” you awkwardly play it off. “Besides, it was a long time ago. That doesn’t hurt me as much.”
“Can I ask you another question?”
“About the situation or more insight about my life?”
Karina’s mouth quirks at the corner. You study the gaze more with the discovered beauty mark underneath. “Why not ask for their help? Let alone tell them about your problem?”
“It’s bad enough for me to take money from them. I can’t afford to.”
“Even in a dire situation like yours?”
“They would’ve made the effort. I’d just turn them down.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time,” she sighs, and you flutter your lashes. Getting the menu from the table, you open it right where Karina’s eyes float over the top.
“My stomach’s empty and I don’t wanna get kicked out for hogging the table.” You jokingly grumble. “We should eat.”
–
Commiserations to the Astoria, because the pasta and wine combo outmatches the appletini’s by a landslide.
You’re back in the car; Karina’s motions are flawless - the way she uses the bottom of her palm against the wheel at every turn, her fingers curling the wheel on long straights. You want to feel the warmth of it gliding your skin.
Seoul is glamorous, just that it’s never not busy.
“The nice car is one thing,” you breathe, a little tense on the handle. “It’s more of the driver, if anything.”
“Do you drive around here?” Karina grits, but she knows you’re pulling her leg
“I thrive with the bus and subway.”
“Thought so,” she tuts, “My advice to you, it’s better to be a dick at the wheel than dead. Or be in traffic for more than three hours. Take my word for it, is the absolute fucking worst.”
Despite the sarcastic complaint, Karina seems to take your words to heart. Prolonging this outing for as long as she could, as you’re gazing out the window of all the passing streetlights which lead back to your apartment. You also think about asking to stop by a convenience store, maybe sit at a playground, stop the car somewhere that isn’t my house- just don’t let this end. Her car is a haven where you don’t want to leave.
Her voice also calls back to you, “Hey, you dozing off on me?”
“No, I wasn’t,” you shake your head.
Karina cards a few locks of your hair off the gearshift, gaze soft. “Heh, okay. Just making sure.”
She rolls into an open spot at the front; you’re clinging to the side of your seat, bending leather. You’re also paying no attention to her parallel parking (deliberate as she is). Karina’s open arm - all consuming, in her car, the purr of the engine rumbling softly. The proximity is too much. You can’t inhale without her being so freaking close.
Her right arm is still open, and she’s noticed. Eyes faded, mixed in the dark. “Thanks for- letting me do this,” she says hesitantly. “It turned out to be pretty fun.”
“Yeah, same here.”
You see her lips quirk. “Still gonna try giving the money back to me?” That alone makes you tense, clutching for your handbag, but Karina grabs your wrist, rests it on your thigh. “Look,” and she laughs, “It’s- I- I was just messing with you. I don’t need it, nor expect you to-”
“Karina, please-”
“I already told you,” she interrupts. “I don’t want the money back.” Her lip twitches again, towards a grin, and very wicked. “If I’m being honest, you can offer something more valuable.”
You shake your head in denial, but it’s futile. The more you do it starts to make you think otherwise. “I should. You shouldn’t- I can’t. You’re way too thoughtful to even think of me-”
Why? Why? This should be nipped in the bud - right here and now. But here is Karina: thumb to your chin, eyes leveled, melting to her touch.
“Am I not thoughtful enough?” She asks with a hushed tone, but you’re frozen to even listen. Your body moves on its own, mouth open to proffer, clasping her hand on your cheek, and she meets in the middle - your bleak plea down her throat.
Karina’s whole being intensifies as she kisses you. Hand now deep into your hair while the other holds your thigh. Your body feels tingly - like little needles pricking your insides, growing with every second your lips are on hers. It’s been so long since you’ve felt like this, and even Wonyoung would agree. A welcoming tongue, against and so willing- so eager to pry you apart.
The rush consumes you, so much that you try to shift over to the driver's seat, but Karina stops your motions, pushing. She breaks the lip lock to get them on your neck, grab a more salivating taste through your skin, smiling at the passing sigh from your mouth. You tense a lot when she’s nipping- and sucking the sensitive pulse point.
“Hmm,’ she hums, grinning as she moves her way up. “A little forward, are we sweetie?”
It’s a full whiplash coming from sharp words cutting her mouth. Karina’s barely laid a finger and you’re fucking desperate. So she doubles down at the opening, hand well pressed against your groin you’re grinding on the jagged palm. God forbid if she let you touch yourself, you’d be off the edge, but you’re also thinking she wouldn’t do such a thing.
Karina’s tongue laves your throat, alternating between the sucks and nibbles she continues to please. Her fingers pull gently in your hair - a marionette in her own right. Slowly adjusting her hand to your slow grinding, experimenting and exploring. Doing everything in her power to not touch you. And it’s about to cut the coil within you - at your legs. The friction between your hips, a measly little dance curated by her, waiting for the right moment to swallow you up.
And when she pulls the swell of your lower lip, it rips a whine within you. “M-more, please-”
“What do you need? Tell me where,” she says, tugging the endline of your dress, another tease. Her hand slides up the inside of your thigh. “You’re so good for me, baby. You want it here?”
“Almost, fucking-”
“Guide me,” instructs Karina, consumed by your needy eyes, voidless as they’ll ever be; and you’re despising every second into the madness, how she keeps her gaze trained, it won’t be enough till she has all of you.
To hell with the suspense, taking Karina’s fingers and slipping it beneath your panties, forcing you to spread wide. Wider. You were so afraid she’ll just leave you to your own devices, so high in the position of power, she’s caught off guard to the point she just groans and kisses you harshly, pinching your clit in the process.
“There she is,” she rasps, loving this new version of you. Her fingers electric across your skin sends your head back. Craving for more force- more friction, and she takes, in awe and pure delight. “You’ve been waiting for me to do something about this-”
“Fucking right you are-”
“You need more- because you can’t cum just from this, no way.” Karina smiles, voice buried in your cheek. Her thumb pinches your clit as her two fingers glide along the leaking slit, and it’s fucking amazing. You could almost feel it, the taste alone worth the torture-
She positions her fingers over your clit soon after. The first circular motion is slow, in measurement. Her forehead against yours and eyes wide open. She’s willing to learn what takes you to the brink, and you know well enough that it isn’t this- not yet. Your hand is quick to grab hers and you rut your hips deep to where she can bend the digits.
“There- fuck, I like it there. A little fast-” you sputter, losing your head. “Keep, keep-”
Karina siphons the remaining air, biting down on the words with another kiss. Her fingers increase in pace, holding the butt of her palm to your clit when she slips one inside, stretching little by little. You grind down, get it deep. Hell- you’re mimicking a thrust for the fun of it. You’d wish she’d just throw you to the backseat and fuck you with more than just her hands.
A hot thought as that might be, your cunt clenches around her hand. She exclaims over your yell, holding your head close.
“You’re a needy one when it matters,” hisses Karina, getting her fingers inside where you want them to be. “Are you always like this with other girls?”
The pressure in your stomach is familiar. You’re chasing it- a full sobbing mess while Karina’s head is against your collarbone, mumbling listless things. You’re fucking amazing, honey. Beautiful. So lovely for me. Jesus- just like this for me?
“You’re so good,” she adds, amidst the stream of endless praise. “My lovely girl. So perfect.” She makes you lose it. That smothering heat, washing all sense away. You’re shaking in Karina’s hands, holding her shoulder as you ride out the orgasm, kissing sloppily and slowing her embedded fingers.
When you’ve calmed down, you gaze down to see the glossy strings on her digits. You’re even sighing in relief at the sight of her cleaning them off, but you wanted more. Even before you could think where to strike next - hands quick to her belt, set aside with her lips in interruption.
“Please,” you plead, unfazed with how much you’ve said it up till this point. “Let me- make you feel good. I want-”
Karina clutches your hair and pulls you for another kiss, enough to slide the words back down your mouth. It’s all mush in your brain. Your body pliant-
“Not now,” she says, holding herself firm. “Promise. I’ll let you make it up to me next time.”
“Next?”
“You heard me,” she laughs, thumb to your cheekbone. “Besides, it’s late. Rest is important for you.”
“Yeah,” you blink. “Right. Okay.”
Karina catches your lips, then pecks your button nose, leaning to open the door. She watches as you shimmy out with an unsure step; see her wave from the window at the foyer. Once she drives off and you’re inside, you rush to the door and try your best to ease the swell building in your chest.
You’re grabbing anything within reach: the door, the wall, kicking your shoes off and staggering your way to the couch. Every move is all routine at this point; seeing the lights, but still can’t think past the cozy warmth in your mind. A short second to contemplate, and you’re giggling.
Relief. Relaxation. Whatever you’d like to call it. All you can remember is the grip of Karina’s hands - the taste of her lips, how her perfume smelled. Everything about her now is worth value - valuable enough you want to keep.
“Next time,” you mutter. It’s stupid and giddy. “Can’t believe she said that.”
The buzz of your phone vibrates behind you and you grab it instantly. Your face suddenly becomes warm again at Karina’s text, reading: goodnight. Typing up a response, another ping from your checking account gets your attention.
to help you w classes, the message reads. Next to it was an amount: five thousand dollars.
(Yes, five with an ‘f’. You can put the zeros together easily.)
Your hand trembles, back flush with the door and sinking to the floor. You can’t stop blinking - even with the facts settling in-
That night, when you crossed paths. Karina felt sympathetic once she learned why you were at the bar. Saying Giselle wasn’t the right person- faintly implying you deserve better. The money was an act of goodwill, in kindness.
“To help you,” she had said earlier. “I don’t want you to pity or refuse me in doing so.”
The impression alone might have been enough - to convince yourself that Giselle had simply been one-upped.
–
Karina stops by your place next week. In far more casual attire this time around.
Then the second. On a Saturday morning at the farmer’s market because why not?
The third and fourth times were on alternating days - despite being between fifteen to thirty minutes on her scheduled breaks (plus you’re ignoring her trek to and from the hospital, which you’ll applaud the effort).
Frequency increases, much to the point where she’s stopping at your doorstep every day she can.
When she leaves you breathless with a parting kiss on the sidewalk, and rolling away not long after. You can’t help but think. It’s too nice- too easy. Her lasting tinge of her lips makes you crave it, and her-
(There might not be much to read into at all.)
–
You’ve been in this position before: sprawled on the bed, the room dimmed in muted lights, filled with the mix of smacking skin and heaving pants.
The sheets crumple at your grasp underneath you, sitting yourself up as best you could, gyrating your hips to match the pace of Karina’s fingers inside your cunt. She then buries her other hand in your locks, pulling you in for a kiss that keeps taking. For a second, then it’s your parted mouths and quick breaths. It’s sweet, grounded.
The tightening in your stomach starts to weigh down deep, falling back on the bed; the pressure overshadows Karina’s presence, but she’s here to go along with what your body’s showing her. Soon her arm slithers behind your back, lifting you, cupping your cunt while you feel her mouth over your already-marked-up chest.
“One more,” she breathes, in a ragged voice. “You can give me one more, sweetheart.”
She’s chasing that high you gave from her sitting on your face, seeing her eyes crinkled and posture buckle, grinding her pussy lips all over your mouth. Tongue splitting her open until she’s lost all feeling in her lower half. In the end, you learn that Karina wants things done her way - resulting in two orgasms back to back: one when you’re bent over on all fours with a strawberry-shaded ass and the other just now flipped over your back.
Not even a chance to let you breathe, mind you. But you’re relishing in it; you still are, in all the ways that matter to her.
You feel her fingers slide in your slit as you’re still sensitive, shimmying the way down till she’s at a stable pace - until she gets rough and brings you back to the edge once again. A divide and conquer with a hand at your cunt, the other at your tit, then her lips capturing yours. Your brain’s all foggy you don’t realize her burying nose at your clit, lapping up what remained from the earlier high.
“I fucking adore you,” she mumbles, barely. Hand to your hip and forcing you to arch at the suction. You swear, and that fucking mouth-
“You’re amazing,” Karina praises, and it sends a chain reaction to your nerves. The affection curdling in your entire being. She doesn’t let up in fucking you, mouth and fingers working in their verison of holy matrimony, and soon you’re letting go.
At this point you’re fucking whimpering - hips bucking and twitching along with the rest of your convulsing body, letting the ecstasy flow without a fight. Karina keeps ramming her fingers, letting you feel: it’s at the bottom of your throat, the curved spine, the uneven switch from slow to fast. And when you’re finally spent, the ridiculous pull withering away from your core, slick spread dripping to your inner thighs, air cooling your body, followed with a stray lick from Karina’s tongue.
“Okay. Okay. Relax,” you groan. “That’s good enough.”
“But you taste wonderful,” Karina mutters, helping you up before treating another go at your neck. Rubbing your stomach and massaging a boob. “I’ve never had anyone clamp around my hand like that, not to mention squirt- ”
“Karina,” Christ almighty, she’s a wolf in sheep’s clothing.
“Jus’ sayin,” she chortles, watching you put your head on her shoulder with a peck. Karina helps herself to hugging you, patting some hair and dancing her fingers in various areas of your figure. Tapping on the shoulder, an oblique, grinning into the kiss delightfully.
“Do you have to go?” You ask innocently. Karina’s face shifts and you feel the disappointment set in.
“Unfortunately.” That makes you wince. “I have a meeting first thing in the morning. The monthly meeting.”
“Right.” You can’t even be upset in the first place - especially you forgetting she has a job - but it’s spiraling as it is, adding onto the growing feeling Karina’s got what she wanted and has cast you aside. She notices this, bringing herself close and tapping her nose at the tip of your forehead.
“I’d stay,” she whispers, “Believe me. If I could, I’d stick with you longer.”
It cuts like a blade, considering what it meant between you two (and you, especially). You negate the thought, replace it with a subtle mock: “You’re already there longer than here.”
“Tell that to my superior and they’ll have someone cover me. I’m sure the next guy called up won’t have an issue taking a bullet out of a patient’s brain.”
“Ew-” you cringe at the new information. “Warn a girl next time, will ya?”
“Because of what I said?”
“I’m joking.” You answer that with a finger to Karina’s clavicle, poking her rapid heart, swiping your thumb at her lips. “I am a little worried, however.”
“Are you subjecting me to a psychology consultation now? Normally that comes after ten, even twenty years.”
“Issues can occur at all ages. Can never be too late nor early.”
“Wonderful,” Karina chuckles as she gets your finger between her teeth. “For the record: I’ve been like this. Always.”
“This, as in-” but the cutoff happens when Karina drags you flat on your back; straddling and leaning down for a long, wanting kiss, breaking away.
“Your enchantment over me,” she answers, grinning. That alone makes you blush, followed up with a delightful kiss by her. You could feel her lips tap your forehead and down to your cheekbones - even the spots where you want her to touch over and over. Once she meets your lips, you can taste the sweetness coming off it.
“I really want to stay,” rasps Karina, pulling away, but you hold her close.
“Stay.” It’s all you want her to do.
“Me staying equals leaving at four in the morning to my apartment- along with the commute to the hospital while beating early traffic. Plus you told me there’s class tomorrow. You’d sleep in instead of waking up and that means you’ll miss the lecture.”
Karina’s opinion shouldn’t be seen as an excuse, since she’s right. It’s not the first time it’s happened to you, and that thought burns in your head: that idea of anger clouding your judgement - going through the motions and not thinking twice. After all-
It’s only transactional.
“I guess you should go,” you say, calmly.
“You’ll be fine without me,” says Karina, kissing you. “Get some rest.” She then smothers you with more kisses, stopping at your nose before rising. You watch as she pulls on her clothes, walking around the room to gather her things. Only to return and slide a few hairs from your face, lips to the crown. “Call you later?”
“Sure.” Karina steers her head to the side of yours. “Be safe, okay?”
You come against her lips. “I will.”
With satisfaction, you see Karina’s eyes pulling away; filled with nothing but darkness behind them, hoping to be full of you. That alone makes you want to shut the door once she leaves and bury your face into the bed. You hear her curse once she’s at the door, fiddling with the knob a few times when it doesn’t budge. She clicks her tongue and jams the thing again.
“You’re supposed to turn it slowly,” you say while sitting up. “Normally I keep the thing half open most of the time.”
“Well how long has the door been like this?”
“Since I bought the place.”
“Fuck me,” Karina exclaims. “Luckily this is an easy fix, I hope.”
“Wait till I tell you about the water bill.”
“What about it?”
“There’s no hot water for me some days.”
“And you didn’t bring this up with your owner?” She asks, angrily.
“Multiple times,” you answer, shrugging. “Brushed it off aside because he didn’t want to deal with it.”
Karina huffs, gripping the doorknob, the hinges creaking from the force. “What a complete asshole.”
“I’ve got by this far; Karina, it’s fine-”
“I’m bringing my guy next week to deal with this,” Karina butts in, unwilling to argue. “The doorknob I’ll help you with and I’ll get the shower fixed properly.”
You wince in embarrassment. “Karina, you don’t have to-”
“I want to,” she replies, her gaze wistful looking back. “I applaud you for living like this for so long, you should at least make it somewhat bearable.”
“Alright, I hear you.”
“I’ll have a repairman see the place.” That being said, Karina manages to get the door open and walks away. Not long after, the front door shuts. You get ready for bed and pat down your pillow, leaning in to get Karina’s scent, curling it as you fall asleep.
–
(Right before you leave for class, you check your phone to see two things:
(1). A payment wired from Karina for breakfast.
(2). The contact information for the handyman she also mentioned.)
–
“Have you been getting my texts? My calls?!” Yunjin asks the moment you answer the phone, muting your laugh.
“Hi, Yunjin. I’ve missed you too.”
“Everything’s okay? School is not too much for you?” She asks again.
You slouch on your speakeasy chair, socks sliding across the hardwood. You place the phone on the armrest and inhale the aroma of your asahi tea. “All is good,” you answer. “I’ve just been- caught up with, well- y’know: life.”
“You don’t sound sure.”
“It’s just school,” you supply. “These next couple years are precious to me, graduate program and what not.” Yunjin hums a sound of approval. “Plus the communication goes both ways. If you feel like calling me, then do it.”
“Work’s been alright, just busy.” Yunjin defends promptly.
“Exactly my point.” You remark, sipping your tea, zoning out to different parts of your home, waiting to hear from Yunjin. The both of you tend to yap at times - most of the calls go this route usually: short updates, the long spells of silence; maybe a tad bit of resentment too, but you don’t go that far. Yunjin has her soft side (more than she would like to admit) but holds a high standard in your very different lives.
Her final question after these conversations: “Is your money situation holding up?”
“Yes-” is the go-to answer, “-and before you say anything, I’m fine with you, uncle, or auntie not sending me money for the time being.”
“Tips flowing this time around this year?”
“Swimmingly,” you laugh.
Yunjin chuckles, “Good to know you’re holding up. Don’t hesitate to call me, hm?”
“One call away.”
“Take care, kid.”
She then hangs up right as you mumble a ‘bye’.
–
A bit peculiar when it’s a random one o’clock in the afternoon, hearing a knock from the kitchen. To your curiosity, you’re caught in Karina’s arms before you could even mutter a simple ‘hi’. Her mouth is all over your face and you’re laughing as she shuts the door behind her
“How are you-” you could feel her grin against the row of your bottom lips, “-even here? What the heck?!”
“I'm on my extended break,” beams Karina, tugging the waistband of your sweats, humming at your whimper. “Though, it was worth coming all the way here.”
“What about lunch?” You ask.
“What about it?”
You could feel Karina’s fingers slide up from the little groove of your ass to your waist, pinching. Your breath hitches, toes curling on the floor. “I was just asking.”
She drags her head back from your collarbone to smirk. “The only thing I have on the menu is you.”
You both laugh, and you let the urge to kiss her consume your thoughts. Fueled by passion, your heel hooks around her thigh, pulling your legs close as Karina’s hand cups your panties, the fabric shifting at her touch, clinging. She then holds you by the neck, leaning down to deepen the liplock - feel her hand grasp behind your ass, hand pressing firmly your toes are curling. Cumming like this would be the fastest way to do things, but you want Karina’s pair of lips in a spot where it’s useful.
So you yank her by the hair, see her face full of want spilling from her eyes - lidded and far gone she’s practically drooling with her mouth hung open. Karina palms your cheek, grazing your lip. “C’mon,” you beg, moving along with Karina’s hand. “I want you to fuck me-”
Karina smiles, psychotic. Pins your body hard against the wall - it suffocates you. “So needy. You don’t care about the neighbors complaining this time?”
You’re blushing brighter and listen to Karina’s giggle. She’s willing to give your request, yanking your body off the hallway and stumbling back to the bedroom. Kicking the door open it slams into the wall.
It’s all out of pure giddiness when Karina pushes you down so she’s the first one to get her clothes off, tossing them one layer onto another - ripping off your sweats and clutching your head for another kiss. Tensing up as her fingers tap the wet fabric of your underwear.
“Fucking tease,” you grit, heat rising to your skin; every move of muscle another ache to satiate for your own pleasure. “I’m gonna go insane if you don’t touch me.”
“Well we can’t have that, can we?” Karina says, eager to be the overseer of your own undoing. “Especially since you’re a lot rude compared to before,” she tells you, closing the proximity, right as you’re pushing for more, when suddenly-
The power’s cut off from the place.
Karina stops her movements, looking up. It is out of nowhere, just to be clear. So you’re just waiting a few seconds for the lights to go back on. As uncommon as it is- well, the building is a bit outdated by twenty years, and the aged wiring has been mentioned, but the apartment’s still dark.
“Are you fucking serious?” You huff, pleasure now flushed from your body. You tap Karina to move. “God, I swear I- ugh, what the actual fuck-”
“What happened?” Karina asks, and you’re off the bed and into the kitchen. You swipe the small stack of envelopes from the coffee table to scour, squinting because of the lack of proper lighting. You then grab your phone and turn on the flashlight mode. Karina hovers over you, concerned. “Is everything okay?”
“My electricity,” you say. “I think they upped the amount to pay and I gave them the old amount in short without checking. It sucks but- I thought they didn’t say it’ll happen till the following month-”
“Ah- it happens, don’t worry,” remarks Karina. She pats your shoulder and kneels down to your hunched state. “If you just explain and pay the remaining amount, they’ll be fine with it. Best that I can assume.”
“There’s just one catch, I-”
Don’t even have the cash. You stop your mouth, and exhale loudly. Karina can imagine the look on your face even when she doesn’t see it; you could feel the anxiety rise up to the air.
“You just need help-” and that’s what scares you: the implication. “I can, if you let me.”
“Karina, it’s fine.”
“It’s not fine.” She snaps. “I can because I want to.”
“Asking you won’t make me feel any better-” but Karina cups your face. Gazing into your eyes, sympathetic.
“I’m giving you an offer-” she laughs, and you’re undecided if it’s pitiful - it shouldn’t be. “-to help. You don’t have to deal with it all by yourself.”
You stare, ignore the alarming pang of your heart. “Okay,” you’re saying, somewhat relieved.
Karina then kisses your chin before patting your head. “If you have an account for your lease, I can pay it through there.” She checks the time on your phone screen as well. “Okay, I also have less than an hour until the power comes on so I can chill with you until later.”
“Laptop’s back in the room,” you sigh. “My password is my birthday.”
“I have a good memory, I remember.” Karina chortles, nodding as she marches back to your room. You smile but once she’s away, your face folds and is riddled with depression.
–
(Wonyoung phones you, er- or at least, tries to: “So you’re not gonna fill me in until later or what’s happening?”
“Uh,” you lick your lips, since the ostense sounds pretty enticing. “Yeah, don’t worry about it.”
“Wai-” and the line goes dead.
It’s definitely on sight for her when she spots you sometime in the week.)
–
oh, we're not done here. that's why there's a double drop. ;')
Dahyun nestles her chin into the dip of your collarbone, her smirk a telltale sign when your eyes flicker from her face to the rest of the ballroom; too early to tell if she’s drunk or probably in heat, it’s one of the two, you know that for sure. Though, her gaze follows yours at the commotion, noticing you can’t stop staring at something - or someone.
“You don’t need me to convince you,” she’s saying, nose grazing the side of your throat and jaw, in tandem with a lip bite. “She’s really fucking horny.”
–
Look, if there’s anything you’ve learned about Kim Dahyun: is the fact that she doesn’t spill the whole tale straight away.
Contrary to popular belief - as her plus one - you might add, her style of being coy and mysterious, always backfires in the end eventually. Yet here you are again: trailing behind or at her side, playing along in the usual antics she puts up to ease the boring periods of these stupid events you’ve been forced to be dragged along.
“Suits and ties, and flashy smiles. That's all they are.” She had said to you hours before, sitting on your desk with her veneers up on high, ankles crossed with heels, wearing the tightest dress imaginable - the kind of dress where it shows just enough skin to get people’s heads turning.
A shame that white was her ideal color too, since you and her both know very well how good she looks in it.
(Your dress shirt in the morning or in a different dress at night, there’s no difference between them.)
Speaking of which:
“It’s a splitting image,” you’re telling Dahyun, head at an angle, squinting in the dimly lit room. “I swear she was just in a white dress the other day. When the hell did she get the lapis lazuli piece?”
“Beats me,” she replies, tugging your arm closer to her, finger directing your gaze as the second crown jewel of the night takes center stage. “I know you’re not denying it, but she’s pretty too.”
“That makes two of us.”
Smug smiled, Dahyun brings it upon herself to swoop the drink in your hand, down the leftover alcohol while the events at the opposite end of the room takes up everyone's attention. You’re part of the viewing crowd too, watching in wonder and from afar while the underlying ambiance of people conversing amidst the host greeting with the proper niceties like any other person would have when opening up the occasion. The lights dimming above with the scattered camera flashes the only sight visible to your eyes - aside from the recipient of tonight’s many awards.
“I still don’t know how you do it,” you remark, chuckling. “These outings - gala’s even. I mean- it hasn’t even been that long after you got the confirmation for the role, not to mention the invite-”
“To be honest, I don’t really know either.” Dahyun agrees, placing the empty glass to the passing server with an empty plate in hand, nodding in approval of thanks to make their job easier. Happily going along their way to assess the next area of need. Her eyes mirror yours - paying attention, spectating along with you until the undivided focus diverts to something else worth the time. “If anything, it’s good that you're with me. That way I can’t have all the fun myself.”
“Gotta spend my nights somehow.” You let your head fall sideways, she meets in the middle. “Rather be here than have your take of ‘rotting away alone at home’.”
“Nonsense,” chides Dahyun, stomaching a giggle down. “Wasted time with me is time well spent.”
“That I can concur,” you remark. “Though, it’s worth mentioning who convinced who earlier, remember?”
“You wanna expand on that a little more?”
“I can. It involves some hands-on work, actually.”
“Right.”
Everything from the events earlier is all panned out in your minds. Something about bending her over the desk and ignoring the call from her manager which almost resulted in being late - she’s not the kind to be on thin ice; as for you, this isn’t the first time this happened, and the warnings have only increased since then.
(A side of you few people know; exclusively for Dahyun to see. Bless the concealer for working its magic; most of the people won’t even be aware of the band-aid stuck onto her thigh.)
“A mouth can do so much more wonders than we expect.” Dahyun says cheerfully, concluding. Finger to her temple then to the lower rim of her lush lips.
Can’t deny her overbearing confidence at times.
“Really,” you say. “You’d reckon?”
“What the hell do you want me to ask for? A demonstration?” She herself knows fewer words are spoken between her and the other person. “Though, I technically don’t have to say anything to you at all since you can just tell from-”
You raise your eyebrow; solidifying the point. Nodding.
The crowd then erupts in a wave of thunderous applause, diverting both of your attention away from each other, seeing the award’s recipient bow before the audience before the event’s emcee steps on, keeping the proceedings flowing smoothly as possible. Most of the sounds are overstimulating as it is, seeing the groups of tables surrounded by people, not to mention the bar station working overtime. The flashing lights. Clamoring of paparazzi wanting the stars to look in their direction. Yeah. It’s a lot. You’ve had the rundown multiple times way more than you could count.
So you take the sight in. The usual work perk: better to be here than to sit behind a desk working into the late hours of the night, get an adequate amount of alcohol in your system to use the excuse of not being able to come in the next day, or even have the additional benefits traveling places you’d ever dream of going as a kid.
(In short saying: you liked your job, at least looking from the surface level. You don’t love or hate the gig, but you’d be willing to do what’s needed or asked without a reason or for something in return:
“Stay with me on the set?”
No problem.
“Run to the cafe down the corner and get drinks for us?”
Sure.
“I’ll give you a thank you note for your hard work. With a little extra prize at the end of it.”
No need to say ‘you’re welcome’ for that one.
You don’t even think twice about the things at all. Talk about being a sucker for love, leaving out the admission.)
It’s in the acts of service, much contrasted to doing it with a romantical intent. There might be a catch hidden deep within your heart and in those almond pools of hers; you and her had the discussion before, reapproaching it too many times for it to be pinned as a label. She says it’s a lot on her plate as it is - you’re harboring the feelings a bit too selfishly.
(Yearning and pining, everyone. The few answers to fill for those unanswered questions.)
And, it’s worth mentioning that for these brief periods of introspection, it doesn’t take much for you to snap out of the usual trance right away. Dahyun tugs the fabric of your coat for good measure, doubled down with a shoulder bump to put the vertigo in disarray, soon she has your attention again.
“What are you thinking about this time?” She asks.
That’s one prompt out of the many you find weaseling your way out easily.
“Well,” you start, pressing the buttoned-up collar up against your neck - negating the discomfort, soak some of the sweat into the threads, have the dry cleaners deal with the rest. “For one: it’s the drink they were passing around just now. And two: definitely the lack of air conditioning in this corner of the room-”
“So sensitive.” Dahyun laments, offering her small palm to your middle. “That shirt’s choking you as it is.”
“Ouch.” You sarcastically say. “Always clocking me for no reason. Unprovoked, I might add.”
“Lightening the load,” replies Dahyun, scrunching the bridge of her nose. Your coat suddenly no longer has a weight on your shoulders, finding its new place on smaller collarbones. Sure, the broad appearance depresses at the lapels, her fingertips are barely peeking out at the cuffs. Bonus points go to you for putting a considerate offer.
The top button of your shirt gets undone, freeing your throat. “What’s the plan now, miss?”
Dahyun swivels around, fiddles with the middle button of the coat until it’s in. “After party not far from here. I also think my publicist told me they have a small keynote thing I have to speak about.”
“Since when has anything ever kept you out of the spotlight?”
“Shouldn’t you be asking yourself if you’re my publicist or something?”
It takes two. The playing field’s still leveled.
But you happily oblige: “Lead the way, ma’am.”
Dahyun tilts her chin up, the corner of her mouth slightly ticked. Victorious. Some of the people around you two start to make a pathway to the exit. A little homage to Moses parting the sea for his people.
You’re already imagining the same scenario happening in traffic outside later, and you’re definitely telling Dahyun to keep her feet off the dashboard.
–
Here’s the thing. A clause in the signed contract, written and hidden deep between the lines.
You realize there’s no proper explanation to the level of engagement - exposure even - in these outings you’ve thrown yourself into. If the briefings prior are to be considered the shallow part of the pool, then the red carpets are without a doubt the deep end, it’s always going to be difficult to determine which one is easier to get used to.
Yet, you find yourself in the same spot as earlier. Except you’re lacking the usual occupant to your side back at the bar.
–
“I would like to greet everyone a good evening and thank you to the hosts for putting together-” says Dahyun, the collecting wave of applause scattering in pockets of the audience, “-such a wonderful gathering here tonight.” She then continues, now the center of attention before the occupying room, no short of most likely a hundred guests in the space if not more. The mic stand was casually adjusted by one of the stage workers, which made the appearance look more comical. Though, she bears no mind because she’s used to it on the regular.
Besides, not much time has passed once you two arrived at the second venue. Maybe a little shy of thirty minutes or something to that degree. You stopped looking at the watch on your wrist as it is - the first sign of how detached you’re slowly starting to become.
Worth noting the amount of alcohol in your system, leading to a single inevitable conclusion: one drink isn’t enough.
Luckily, the concoctions being created behind you have already been making the rounds to the guests; another cup manages to find its way to your hand again; this time with a little more kick compared to the main event’s refreshments, but the urge to grab another is a tempting thought.
There’s also the promising appeal of the balcony to your right - an opportunity to step outside, get some fresh air; you’ve got the dwindling pack of cigarettes in your right pocket, thumb reflexively twitching to ignite the lighter, the second sign of relapse waiting to happen. You don’t know how long you’ll be here, and you’re not the kind of person to push your hours for a faster paycheck.
Normally, on outings like these - they’re intended to celebrate, commemorate, congratulate, connect - then there’s the secondary layers of networking, creating connections for future projects, attached with the occasional icebreaker through the food and drinks where people are there to have a great time, socialize, share tales of what doesn’t get shown on cameras or what’s kept from being said on the record - the inner workings gradually forming once everyone’s settled in with the job done for the night.
While it may be a rinse and repeat on a different day, this face in particular does anything but that:
“Suppose you’re laying low for another hard day’s work?” She asks you, slotting herself into the spot where Dahyun would always be when she’s fulfilled her duties as an attending individual.
Speaking of Dahyun, she’s still on that stage with another co-star joining her, exchanging niceties and getting showered with compliments she plays off nonchalantly. Again, you told her to take as long as she liked, convincing yourself while walking away she’ll eventually find the way back once her minutes are up on the schedule. Until then, the oddly familiar face next to you is worth passing the seconds for now.
The girl waves a waiter nearby, nods in acknowledgement as the rim of the glass meets her fingertips, swirls it around while pursing her lips, looks in your direction and offers a toast-
You’re blinking as the action is mirrored. Ah, okay. She has your full attention alright.
You begin to see why there was a sudden influx of flashes at the photo-op earlier. This girl was amazing. The headlights shining in the dark with you as the innocent deer caught in the middle.
A drink like the one in your hand has never been swallowed faster than ever in your life.
“Ugh,” she utters, the small bump in her throat returning to its normal position, the tip of her tongue peeking out from her lips, savoring the taste. “Gotta say, this is way much better than what they were handing out in the other place.”
Turns out you’re not the only one who thought the drinks were a little fuzzy in terms of taste. So your face motions an expression of agreement and pulls a light chuckle out the mouth.
“No kidding,” you reply, examining the glass more closely, set it down on the bar, don’t ask for a second one - there’s no point, every ounce of coherence is needed to keep this conversation going, inhaling sharply for composure. “These have a little more kick,” you add on. Not much to expand as it is, but you’re getting somewhere.
“Right? It’s just enough to savor, but also not too much for you to end up in the bathroom later.” She pulls her head back, revealing the dips in her shoulders. Her necklace is an astonishing piece to notice, clearly worth in the five-digits. The shade of her dress is also another part of the appearance you’re doing multiple checks in. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed but, some of the guys here are already wasted.”
Not quite blue, not quite a dark color either. You’re noticing something else here anyway.
“Hasn’t even been that long.” You’re playing it safe, observant. “The waiters are pretty much vultures in this setting; circling around the crowd until one of them drops to the floor out of exhaustion,” you tell her, checking your surrounding for anything out of the ordinary, the mix of tailored suits and dresses, elegance flooding the floor - filling up every pocket of space where it can. Some people are glancing over and immediately turning the other way, as if you had stolen a piece at the art museum. In a figurative sense, she’s drenched in blue, a siren in human form and she knows what the others are thinking around her.
“Attention always follows when you least expect it.”
“Isn’t that the epitome of this industry?” You lift your hand up towards the crowd of people, and higher up to point out the ambience. “Safe to also add there’s a lucky few that get the royal treatment and fawned over because of looks and status.”
“For all we know that could be you up there,” the woman drawls, eyes rolling and shaking her head. You can tell right off the bat she’s in denial, laid-back and totally doesn’t give a fuck; the kind of person you take pride in confiding in. “In the end, who’s really winning? The idiots who didn’t bet on their potential or the fools who were dumb enough to follow a stupid dream?” The girl runs her hand down her face. “I can tell which side you’re on.”
“I’ve been around long enough to know where the line’s drawn,” you scoff. “There’s pride in that choice for me.”
“It’s their job to use me,” she tells you. There might be a double meaning to it if you think long enough. “Just like it’s my job to be of use.”
“I’ll leave the interpretation for another time,” you nod, swirling the drink like you’ve got nothing else to do.
Her gaze doesn’t falter when you turn to put your elbows on the bar. “Well kudos to you, I guess.”
Your shoulders move again, facing towards her, elbow still on the edge of the bar. The rest of the room begins to fade out in your ears. “I don’t need an introduction, by the way. Since I already know who you are.”
“That so?”
“Minju.” You answer. “Kim Minju, to be exact,” you confidently say. A smirk tugged once the casual banter’s finally broken in. “Impressed much?”
Minju gently applauds at the meaningless achievement, smiling and giggling in a gentle tone. “Congrats. I’m assuming you totally didn’t read my name in the headlines let alone a file at your workplace?”
“There’s much more to it than your name being on the guest list.”
She blinks. The grin on her face spreads wider.
A handshake would be a nice touch to the introductions, but you’re past that point, unknowingly pushing to a higher stride.
“Alright then,” says Minju, threading her brows, teeth nipping the inside of her lower lip. “What else do you know about me? Or have you heard?”
“Loved your performance in that lawyer series,” you compliment. “Care to expand on what made you want that role in the first place? And is it true you learned sign language for the upcoming movie you’re starring in?”
This could be drawn up to be a fanboy image, but the interest is in the working passion. You don’t know whether or not the landing is sticking, but that’s just the natural flow of things. Minju herself has shuffled closer to lessen the proximity. You’re giving less care to the logistical side of the job, settling in letting loose since there aren't any plans for you after tonight. You haven’t had much to drink as it is plus this was a good way to keep the schedule moving.
“My my, so many questions for me.” Minju is a bit appalled at the sudden bombardment in the exposition and commentary you’re spilling. “Are you sure you’re working for the right agency? When were you so interested in making an impression for someone who’s clearly out of your league?”
She’s noticing the effort, that’s for sure. It isn’t like you to act this way, especially if it’s someone that’s not in the typical clientele you’re used to working with. Though, giving the informative part is easy, no doubt. If anything, this is taking a bite out of what she’s set out on the table; sooner or later, it’s going to take a lot more for her to buy into what you’re selling - especially when you don’t have all your cards laid out in front of you.
Minju watches you look left to the stage, and that was all she needed to know.
–
There’s not much to catch up on after. Consider this the transitional sequence - capped off with the polite waves and exit left once the minutes are up on stage. Everything resumes to normal: people exchanging laughs, getting plastered, acting like you’re aware of what’s happening here half the time. Dahyun spots you at your most preferred place and-
“Nice to see you two got acquainted while I was away doing my ‘obligatory’ duties,” she remarks - her way of weaseling into the conversation with a hand to your arm and chest, presenting you like some prized possession - a one of one. “I hope you’ve been keeping him occupied?”
“For the most part.” Minju’s face beams the same expression you have and your brows give off a tale of: yeah, that’s usually her thing around here. Though the mood’s already been set even before Dahyun managed to find her way back, she’s also capable enough to slot herself in effortlessly. “He’s a real charmer, this one.”
“Really?” Dahyun asks.
You scoff. “Not a chance.”
“Oh c’mon,” Minju says, and her head twists the opposite direction - noticing the sudden commotion somewhere off in the endless crowd. The three of you assume it’s a good sign - due to the cheers of approval with one of the awards is up in the air. “Never really thought you’d be one to get a little shy in showing their piece.”
“Piece?” You look at Dahyun, slightly pressed.
She shoos off the question in ignorance. “Minju doesn’t mean that.” Looks at Minju with a refined demeanor. “She, on the other hand, isn’t new to this kind of thing.”
Minju flashes a brow and that all glittering grin. “He must not be as familiar to me as you say.”
“And you’re underestimating my potential,” you drawl. “Have we met properly?”
“Not yet,” Minju responds, and Dahyun glances at the both of you - like a mastermind deep in the shadows, plotting moves on the chess table. “You’re the first person Dahyun’s brought along to and from events, though it looks like she’s managed to keep you around for a while.”
“Out of how many?” You add. Minju’s chin tilts an angle and Dahyun squints her eyes out of suspicion. It’s interesting enough how the two share the same mannerisms when around friends; the way their dresses are molded to their small waists - a nice curve in the swelled hips, enough for an average guy to do a double take every time they walk past them.
Dahyun clears her throat then blinks. “Let’s just say you’ve lucked out getting assigned to me for the long-term.” Minju brushes up your left side like she’s someone you’ve known for a while, despite only a few minutes. “May I remind you’re still on the clock?”
“Is he actually,” an intrigued Minju butts in.
“The phrase is a practical technicality, but yes.” You shrug.
“Does this remind you the other time where both of our managers got into a pissing match cause we fucked around with the livestream chat.” Dahyun sticks the peak of her tongue out - another eyebrow raiser. An instance predating your time. The topics switch to the next seamlessly:
“Oh and the one thing where we-”
“-or when your bikini pics got leaked-”
“When you got cozy with your male lead a while back-”
“-the whole accident on set with one of the staff-”
“You’re still dancing for fun and hanging out with the girls from your last group-”
They’re trading memories back and forth, with the deposit for more shenanigans beckoning to be cashed. In all of this you’re just an innocent bystander, fixated on the sudden pressure of Dahyun’s ass against your crotch with Minju fixing up her hair in a tiny, messy bun. The slim line on both pairs of collarbones reeling your eyes and gazing into their eyes. Minju’s cheekbones at the highest peak they could ever be with that photogenic grin; Dahyun looks up from underneath to see and realize you’ve been enamored from the event earlier.
“That’s right, I forgot. He hasn’t stopped noticing you with your fabulous dress, Minju. Since we crossed paths in the hotel before driving over.” Dahyun declares, in the most roundabout way of letting it known you wanted her. All you do is nod in admission. Then, Minju bites down her lip - eyes unfailing because apparently the girl knows everything. “Speaking of which-”
“Same hotel, right?” Minju offers. You could imagine the scattered sparkles over her head. “I suppose I can hitch a ride with you guys on the way back?”
–
The worst part about these events would definitely be the traffic.
With the streets packed with cars and taxis, waiting for every red light to turn green with the fingers tapping on the wheel starts to get a little more erratic out of impatience. You’re already in a sour mood on the way out because the valet couldn’t stop bitching and there was a scuffle near the door; but your attention isn’t on the road- rather, Minju in the driver seat - on your lap, in fact- feeling your mouth more than you feeling hers.
“Isn’t this a bit restricting?” Minju asks as she draws back, fingers in the opening of your necktie and pulling. “Looking flustered with a pretty woman on top of you, hm? Or is that the alcohol blushing your face.”
“It’s a bit confining,” you’re saying (and thinking), adding onto the fact of the growing tent at your crotch - accepting the weight of her ass holding you down - there’s no way in hell she hasn’t noticed it yet-
“Careful now,” Dahyun jumps in from the seat behind, happily watching. You’re unsure if she’s saying that to you or Minju - there’d be no difference in that regard anyway. “We wouldn’t want to have something bad happen to all of us, right?”
“Do you know who I am?” you mumble, getting caught in Minju’s lips and her hands doing all the right things to make sure your foot stays on the brake pedal. The light then turns green, stopping at the sudden movement of the car, bringing her knees higher to give your arm more space. “You’re lucky the hotel isn’t far this time around.”
“Oh? What happened before?” Minju inquires, “Don’t tell me you got pulled over with her sitting on your lap like this.”
“Almost,” answers Dahyun, slipping Minju’s heels off from her feet, leaving a few kisses on them. Another hint to keep as to what this girl likes - what she’s into. Dahyun wasn’t kidding when she explained what Minju is behind closed doors and she convinced you without lifting a finger to help her along in doing the honors. “Except you wouldn’t believe what the company had to do to keep the headline from hitting the main news birds.”
Minju gasps. “So that wasn’t a rumor.”
“Never happening again,” you rebuke, “Trust me when I say that I dealt with her once we got back.”
Dahyun sighs out of spite and Minju coos. Slipping your tie from the collar and handing it to the woman in the back like a baton. Un-do’s the top two buttons on your shirt, exposing your neck - freeing up the air. The dress at her legs starts to ruck up in loose rolls, showing more of those incredible thighs- shit, they’re on par with Dahyun’s, that’s for sure.
“Assuming you two missed the flight back home, I suppose?” Minju keeps talking, leans her head on the window, gets more lapis around her fingers. You look down and- okay, fuck-
She isn’t wearing any underwear.
“I don’t really remember,” Dahyun answers, and you notice she’s not at your shoulder anymore. A quick look up at the rearview, her posture is beyond slouched, leaning her head back, fluttering her eyes shut - already ahead of what she’s lacking, hoping you won’t make her wait any longer, but for now, her fingers will have to do.
No underwear for her, either. She really is playing both sides to this plot.
“It started with something like that,” you say, paying no further attention to the Dahyun fingerfucking her cunt open in the backseat - as compared to the Dahyun from a few months ago, who did the same exact thing in the passenger side before hopping on your lap - the red and blue lights are shining from the rear. Minju’s case however is a bit different: the girl’s running her hand up and down her waist, dancing along your jaw, finger to your lip and that’s an offer you can’t really refuse, so you lick the pad of her thumb, staring at you in awe, building up the profile in how to get you going.
“You really are a keeper,” Minju breathes, and Dahyun laughs in agreement, sighing - her fingers clamped by her cunt. Yu could imagine how soaked her digits are. You want to help clean the mess up later. “Do you hear that? Sounds like your girl’s enjoying herself in the back.”
“Is she? Good to know.”
“Wanna give her a little show?”
“What did you have in mind?” Playing into the role so easily Minju doesn’t flinch when your arm goes up and under her legs. The wonderful blessing of pairs, they do come in handy. “I’m an auditory learner, by the way. I like to get an idea of what I’m about to do.”
Minju was about to explain what was about to happen, but your muscle memory had other ideas: palm feeling out the surface of her soft skin over her ass, thumb lazily tampering the end of her slit, and you hear a sudden hitch - the hook of her fingers around your neck press harder in anticipation. “Here’s a hint: Dahyun’s doing it right now, too.”
“If it wasn’t obvious enough.”
“You-ah, you’re a smart guy,” says Minju, biting her finger. “Okay, god. That’s- wow. That’s really fucking good.”
You sink your thumb in deeper, coat it around that warm slick - swap it for a proper finger, watch her (and the road, mind you) melt at your touch. She mewls at the slow place, and breathes carefully. The same woman who had a captivating sense of beauty talking to you and on stage is withering away by the second.
“Wait- you, fuck.” She grins. You look back again to Dahyun in the rearview, her head on one side and bobbing her head in approval. Nothing more delightful than the gentle purr of the engine - the light smacks of skin to skin a nice plus. “Please, please-”
Her eyes are lidded and shimmering at the same time. How is she able to do that?
“Nice to see you’ve kept yourself busy,” Dahyun chuckles, leaning back forward, nose to your temple. Gently laving her tongue at you, nibbling a bit of skin, the first mark of the night. Her hand keeps your gaze to the front, smears her slick fingers across your lips and when you’re at another red light, she pulls your head to her, claiming your mouth as her own.
The air’s only getting hotter, the fabric of your shirt’s starting to mold to your body.
Dahyun’s tongue is already addicting with Minju’s keening at your fingers. You feel helpless with the seatbelt around you and time; it’s also worth noting the shared blessing plus curse in being a very skilled multitasker. Minju’s body jolts, crumpling smaller, pinching her cunt from inside and at the clit, her face scrunching once you’ve discovered her sweet spot that makes her yelp. Oh, oh my. You’re saving that for later.
You wouldn’t want to have any other problem than this. A prisoner sitting up in heaven. Until the driver behind you holds his horn way longer than you’d liked.
Dahyun then pushes your face to the windshield again. Minju’s granted a moment to breathe. The pair laughing at the sudden embarrassment of you just now.
“Mind that you’re still at the wheel, sir?” Dahyun grins, departing her lips and hands to shift the focus to the current task. “The agency’s gonna have your dick if something bad happens to me.”
“I’m counting on it,” you dart back. Minju shuffles her body to a more comfortable position, slipping her tongue into your mouth intentionally - resulting in an increase over the speed limit, and that gets her cackling. “If it means I get to run away with you.”
Dahyun tugs the stray end of your hair. “Don’t push your luck.”
“You didn’t cum yet, Dahyun?” Minju asks, tracing a nail on your cheek. “I can’t believe I just got edged.”
“We’re breaking you in little by little, sweetheart,” Dahyun replies to Minju, “don’t worry, our lover boy and I are gonna take good care of you when we get there.”
“You promised?” Minju then adds, sounding like an excited little kid, waiting for their reward.
“Mhm,” hums Dahyun, “Why don’t you give him a little space to concentrate,” she suggests, the blood running through your veins starts to flow much faster. “How about, giving him a proper trade off for getting you all riled up.”
As if the night couldn't be any worse (for the better, actually), you’re holding your breath - straightening the posture.
(You’re just happy this happened to you.)
So far, Minju’s got a bag full of surprises. What she does next really blows the whole aspect right out of the gate - the kind that risks all your lives in the car if it were to end up off the road.
Dahyun helps Minju off your lap, ends up back in the passenger seat, her dress rumpled amidst the shuffling to get her knees on the leather, elbows resting above the compartment, staring back - her eyes full of greedier intent. Coy smile and everything, without saying a single word.
“You’re sure I can?” Minju asks, pinching her lip delicately and Dahyun shelters her grin, aware of what she’s about to do. “I’m not gonna kill him, am I?”
“Oh please,” Dahyun sighs, hand to shoulder, showing comfort to the approval. Letting go of the reservation. “He lets me have my way all the time. I don’t think he would mind.”
“Not like I can do anything in this situation,” you shake your head, bearing the sudden influx of movement around your pants. Fingers getting a feel at your thighs, then your crotch-
“Looks like someone’s ready for some action,” Minju breathes, nails clinging to the zipper, tugging. The belt unbuckling soon after. You’re lucky she didn’t go for the seatbelt - for safety reasons. How considerate.
When your cock is finally brought into the mix, her hand is finally able to wrap around the size of you. She’s left in a slight state of shock, trying to come to grips at the long awaited reveal.
“Jesus christ,” she breathes, Dahyun’s smirk is one you would like to wipe off of her yourself. Minju’s still reveling at the hold she has on you, in ownership. “How do you deal with this?”
Dahyun’s answer is an open-ended one: “I just do.”
No warning is given, Minju’s small nose grazing the head, getting one good whiff at the scent. She sighs, and it’s euphoric. Her tongue is the first to have another sense unlocked; the taste, the feel, the sensitivity - it’s a mutual agreement without diplomacy: you want her, she wants you.
One more look back at Dahyun, the final confirmation. “May I?”
You could imagine the subtle nod of approval. And Minju’s mouth takes you.
All of that sensational alcohol is suddenly in the back of your head, replaced with a new stimulation.
There is a slight bit of resistance - on reflex: your stomach and legs tensing when Minju slides her mouth, brushing saliva over skin. She stops halfway, coughs, soaking your cock even more. Even though you can’t see it, you could imagine her eyes cinched shut, enlightened to pleasure you more.
“Wow,” you’re saying, and the hand grips the wheel even tighter.
Dahyun’s taken the indulging upon herself, pulling Minju’s dress up from behind, revealing those wide hips, and the irresistible ass attached with it. Palm flat - kneading it where Minju hums at the touch, vibrating it down on your slick shaft, stuffing her mouth as much as she can, swirling her tongue all over, adding more spit to the surface.
“Can you believe,” says Dahyun, sliding her fingers in Minju’s poor, open cunt, “how wet you made her? You should have some shame.”
“That isn’t my fault-”
“But it is.” Dahyun tells you with another kiss to your cheek.
“Damn right it is.”
“Just listen.” Dahyun instructs you, letting silence fill up the car and it’s all just the gentle ticks of Minju’s mouth taking you in the driver’s seat. Meticulously calculated to the finest point of your nerves, throat bobbing you - getting used to the unfamiliar girth of your cock. To which she does with ease, like a natural. It’s another story for you to ask about the two once all of this is over. Though you don’t want it to end.
All of the current thoughts are filled with Dahyun’s moans filling your ear, Minju’s mouth slipping over your lap.
“Everything okay, Minju?” Dahyun asks, and Minju’s lips pop off the tip with an audible noise. Eyes full of you. She looks at Dahyun with the look of a girl who’s discovered fire. Lips smeared with spit mixed pre-cum. Her tongue licking off the remnants is a telltale of a job not finished. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves now, shall we?”
“I’m just having my fun with your toy, that’s all.” Minju reprimands. “I was hoping you’d believe me when I told you before we went on stage.”
“Are you done showing him what you’re made of, or are you gonna give him more than he asked for?” Dahyun adds, her eyes lidded once again when she sets them on you.
“If that’s what he likes,” says Minju.
Your hand would definitely be rather tangled up in Minju’s hair over the wheel. When you wanted to satisfy that necessary impulse-
“Ah ah,” Dahyun tells you, Minju taking that as her cue to get your cock back in her mouth again, with much more motivation now carried behind the action. It’s a sensory overload on all fronts: the steering wheel, the windshield, Minju’s mouth lapping up your cock all the way in the velvety clinch of her throat, the sounds she’s making. “Shh, I’ve got you. Try to relax. Take us home, and let Minju be a good girl for you.”
Once you hear the gags become much more louder, the tip of her tongue teasing the base where your balls meet-
You groan and press on the pedal a little too much, dancing over the speed limit.
“Mmm,” Minju moans into your skin. The arch in her back now coming to form, Dahyun’s hand still to the rear of her ass. All three of you are playing into the act - curated by Dahyun’s fantasies.
She’s so good, Minju. Too fucking good. Ever since you’ve laid eyes on her. Now the pretty sight is her face to your hips, makeup messy, dress left in ruin, both holes occupied by you and Dahyun.
The hotel’s on the right in the next two lights. You can hold it, keep yourself together. Or- have Minju have her fun - make you burst right her and now; not to prove a point, but to show that she’s up for what you’re willing to dish out as soon as you could get back to the room, put the ‘do not disturb’ card out on the handle and eventually tell housekeeping to come back later - if there is a later.
These two, they’re relentless. They know you’re wrapped around their fingers and there’s not much for you to do except get them back in one piece. It’s on the assignment, but Minju’s bobbing mouth - Dahyun’s snarky dirty comments of how you’re going to fuck her into the mattress is something that the mangers didn’t mention. Rather the exclusivity perk told by the girl herself, a walking apparition of sin and her sexy advocate. You couldn’t ask for anything more than that.
“Minju, I swear to fuck-”
Dahyun doesn’t really falter if you were to speak for your own sanity, Minju keeps on sucking to the point where you’re relying on the sheer instinct of keeping the car on the street, deepthroating to submission, letting the friction of her hand bring you closer to that sweet release.
Christ.
It really can’t be helped.
If the right hand is busy, then the left hand is there to pick up the slack on the wheel.
The way you grip Minju’s hair, push her past the comfort zone, take her mouth in - deeper, where you don't believe she’s able to handle, but does. She keeps the rhythm, peak consistency. Her sly mouth filled with heat. Dahyun notices- assists in the movement, hand stacked on yours and she’s amused.
“Aw, you really like her,” says Dahyun, guiding her tongue into the cuff of your ear, her breath soothing and alarming. “Makes me wonder whose mouth is better: mine or hers.”
“Shit, baby.” You’re trying, but Dahyun smiles again when she hears the combined sound of Minju’s muffled remark and your loud moan. Minju’s mouth is a literal dream, deliberately filthy; stuffing your cock, fitting the size in a matter of minutes. The taste of you already addicting and she doesn’t let up on the tension, flicking her tongue on the underside and swapping it with her hand, holding you tight where the grip is almost white-knuckled. Tracing every layer from the skin to the veins, memorizing how wide and where to make you lose control. “You shouldn’t test me like this.”
“How long are you willing to keep it together for me? For us?” Dahyun asks, biting down a patch on your neck and watching the rise and fall of Minju’s head. Her savagery coming to light, deep within the darkness. “You could cum for our little cumdump and she’d be happy with it.”
“Mmph,” Minju garbles onto your cock.
“Fuck-”
“That’s right,” Dahyun murmurs, a hot wet kiss to the same spot where she nibbled, pushing Minju’s head down and holding it there. “Make our slut earn for it.”
And then-
You slam on the brakes.
The movement was sudden (and forceful). Dahyun and Minju share a reaction: gasping in shock where one’s pulling the other for air, eyes quirking like they’re seeing you walk in on them and the appropriate reaction to stare seems the most reasonable one. Dahyun’s hand is still in Minju’s hair, with you paying no attention and pulling the car into the valet lane of the hotel. “We’re gonna make you pay for that,” Dahyun tells you, letting go of Minju - to where she leans over to get the head of your cock wrapped around her pretty lips once again.
“Uh huh,” you say, tapping Minju’s shoulder, signaling to stop for now, right when your balls were about to burst. “Help me out and make yourselves look presentable, will ya?”
Minju rises up and wipes the layer of spit spread from her mouth, jaw slack-open and trying to memorize how your cock fills her throat. She’s good and she knows it. You and Dahyun don’t need any other confirmation to tell you she’s ready.
“If that’s what you want,” hushes Dahyun, nodding Minju to follow your wishes, she carefully puts your cock away while the car’s slowly rolling in the line. Thank god for the tinted windows, and you’re starting to imagine what the pictures would look like if they got leaked.
Any more time spent in this car and it would’ve ended up off the street. Minju’s lips capture yours first, and then Dahyun’s after. You can’t help staring, because it’s a pretty sweet view.
–
(Nobody bats an eye at the three of you at the venue, easily the center of attention whether you’d like it or not. Nobody really bats an eye if it’s the hotel doorman seeing you carrying a girl on your shoulder and heels in your hand - another girl in front of you wearing your coat, happily acknowledging the service as if it’s just a normal night. Doesn’t hide the fact the doorman wished he could trade places with you and be in that predicament instead.
He holds the door when Dahyun goes first, looks you in the eye with Minju bowing her head from behind in a fun way of saying hello and the doorman gives you this look of light confusion, but also: one of those nights, isn’t it?
Man to man, you just smirk and nod. No need to elaborate any further.)
–
In the elevator, it’s also a one-way ticket to a destination you’ve been to many times with Dahyun before. Whether to put it as your personal heaven or literal hell, it might be simply considered as purgatory.
If you were half the honest man you were - have a little more truth to your name, you would’ve gotten to know Minju a little more. Break the ice, learn what her hobbies are when she’s not in front of a crowd or camera. When her laugh echoes in the lobby and Dahyun’s trying her best to keep her quiet - even that is near impossible to do. She didn’t even drink that much to begin with, but she sure as hell looks like it.
She even looks better on her knees, with the panel behind highlighting all the floors to not make it a one-way trip back to the room.
“Fucking hell,” you hiss, hand deeply planted into her mocha shaded tresses, wet lips prettily wrapped around your cock, slipping a tongue to the slick, sensitive plane every other second making your grip around the railing a little less pleasant. Dahyun’s also lowered herself, tending to your balls and holding your thigh. Neither of them are in competition for your cock- not yet, at least, but the genuflection at your feet is enough to make you think that you’re someone worth worshipping.
Though, there’s not much to think about when they’re both swallowing your dick down their throats respectively.
Minju bobs her head up, pops, and Dahyun swallows your dick back in. You’re flexing your stomach as hard as you can.
“This isn’t too much for you, right?” Minju asks sweetly, batting eyelashes in second nature. Gazing at Dahyun who’s repeating the same moment Minju has been doing since the elevator started working. Your right hand is far off from Dahyun’s head, and you hover it over to keep the pace going.
“I’d be dead if I said it was,” you admit to Minju, to where she just fucking- looks up, face at the underside and those doe eyes, swimming in black, glistening with such innocence- lapping up the spots where Dahyun can’t reach. “But christ- you two are-”
“Relax.” You imagine that’s the word Dahyun is saying; but with her mouth filled so full up of your cock the sound comes out as garbled, saliva leaking at the corners. She’s hungry, deprived, longing for your cock. And now she finally has it dancing on her neat little tongue.
“All the stories she tells me- like, fuck, she looks so hot seeing it happen in person.”
“Minju.” You’re calling the name like putting the blame on her, staring deep into your soul. She grabs your wrist for you to not let go - to stay - just like this, you’re not going anywhere; you let the back of your head hit the wall as it feels like gravity is leaving your body. “God,” you’re gasping, suffocated by Dahyun throating your cock. “Her mouth is just-”
“I know, baby,” Minju tells you, above the half-gagged sounds of Dahyun sliding your shaft in and out of her throat, the motion selfish in every bob she does - like she doesn’t want Minju to have her fun. Your breaths staggering with every pass, smothered by the vibration between your legs, moaning with watery eyes. “She’s too good for you, we know.”
Dahyun lets you breathe, slips her hand all over her newly created mess. Minju stacks her hand right on top. The friction strong enough to pull your weight over them. You could feel your back slide against the metal, knees buckling.
“Looks like we softened him up, huh Minju?” Dahyun says sweetly, innocuous. “Got it nice and throbbing for you-”
Minju’s tongue darts at the bead of cum weeping out your slit; makes your hips twitch in the draw-back. “He’s raring to go, have you seen the look on his face?”
When they both look up: you’re dumbstruck, ogling - but all that pride you had at the start of this is nowhere to be seen.
“What floor is your room again?”
“29th.”
“Just a couple more floors up,” you say and they’re both giggling. Either at you, specifically - or the limitless amounts of tricksd how you’re going to pull and bend their gorgeous little bodies. Sensibility and control has no meaning to them. It probably has no meaning to you after everything that’s unfolded thus far.
Dahyun and Minju tilt their heads up to the underside of your cock, and the urge to grab both shades of brown to black flashes through your mind, but you digress.
They (or even you) wouldn’t have to wait any longer.
–
There’s no subtle preamble. No- that went out the door the moment you stepped in.
It’s the same order since the foyer: Dahyun first, followed by a clingy Minju and her lips with you the last one to file in line. Minju hasn’t been forthcoming in freeing you from her grasp, but you’re not the kind to fight in these situations - so, you let her kiss you anyway.
Dahyun tosses your jacket on the chair adjacent to the bed, stains fading from the earlier session, heels gracefully thudding the carpet. The blinds are parted just wide enough to get the backdrop of the cozy blue lighting hitting against the beachfront, the sound of waves crashing into shore. Bags upon bags zipped open with the assortment of essential wear and toiletries.
Minju’s not letting you go still, arms well hooked to the nape. Like she wants you to pin her to the wall straight away and let Dahyun be the lone spectator, standing in the dark.
“Can’t even spare one second of decency,” she breathes; you and Minju both look at her, not insulted - technically - but rather in a mere taunt.
“And what are you gonna do about it?” Minju asks, slyly. You shift your head back on her, let the height do the talking - make her feel small. In hindsight, she’s roughly about Dahyun’s height; that part you figured out the second Dahyun stepped into the conversation back at the party. “Are you going to stand there and watch? Or are you gonna join in on the action?”
Her voice is beyond casual, and almost a siren’s call. Dahyun doesn’t hesitate with her small stature, pulling one end at the collar of her dress, undoing it. You remember hearing that the dress itself that she was wearing was worth six figures - and she isn’t fazed when the fabric crumples at her hips - then to her thighs.
The audacity of this woman. Her figure is much more alluring to look at when there’s nothing on it.
You give your neck a gentle tweak, put any implication of soreness in the back of your head. It’s going to be a long night as it is.
“Someone’s feisty to get the ball rolling,” you’re saying, lips fast to Minju’s neck; the clutch of her hands and arms already with enough pull. Needlessly. Graciously. She tries to get your shirt off but all you give her is two hands on her shoulders and put her back against the surface. Her head hits the earthy shaded drywall - it might be intentional, or not, you won’t give any quarter either way.
Dahyun slots herself in, like she did back at the party. Only this time, she’s playing your role as second fiddle, peeling Minju away and giving her some breathing room - just to be snuffed out as she’s treating her lips to the exposed collarbone.
Minju’s leaning back, arching. Her hands don’t know whether to go to you or to Dahyun. It’s a win-win situation for her (probably a win for all three of you across the board). Two of the most attractive beings she’s ever crossed paths with and finally living out her wildest wet dreams.
The reality of it hasn’t set in yet, but the cracks are showing when Dahyun hushes into her neck: “We’re going to take good care of you tonight, honey.” She leaves a hot kiss right on the bridge of her collarbone, and you see her lip quivering. “I hope you’re ready for what’s coming.”
“Do you have any-” Minju’s sentence gets cut short when the press of your fingers gets a little too greedy, bending the blue frame under your will. “-idea of- fuck, how long I waited to finally have a go with your guy?”
“No,” replies Dahyun, tilting her chin up. Your lips are at her throat again and Dahyun seizes the chance to let Minju speak. “Maybe, I don’t really remember.”
“Let’s not forget,” Minju gasps and the heat rising on her face starts to become noticeable. “That you’re the one who set all of this up.”
“Did I?” Dahyun’s airheadedness is worthy enough for her to get the dunce cap. “Hmm.”
“She’s got a point,” you’re dishing out the unsolicited reality check. “I’m on Minju’s side here.”
Minju smiles as Dahyun rolls her eyes. The air in the room is thicker here compared to the car, shared breathing amongst you three intoxicating enough to get high on. It’s a higher plane of existence - a nirvana. Minju’s fingers trace the cotton on your waist, goes lower, till her fingertips get the cool touch of the belt buckle. There isn’t much to be said here; nothing but sly comments and filling the other’s ego to the brim. “Heh. The majority is two to one.”
You realize that it was a collective effort a while ago. Though, you liked the idea of being the bigger person over the both of them, literally.
You’ll have pride in that regard, especially in the ways you want to go about things. Dahyun lets her fingers slide over Minju’s body, canvas the curves in her wrinkled dress and slowly drag the material down in a fashion that makes your cock throb even harder against the cotton, beneath Minju’s hand. Showing care in the craft before the messy idea of undressing fills her mind. It’s Newton’s third law in real time: Dahyun setting the vision in motion and everything else seems to topple down like dominoes.
“Should we take things slowly?” Dahyun asks; proposing a challenge with the heavy implication of doing the opposite - albeit a complete rhetorical. “Make him lose his mind in being gentle and get him antsy?”
“Please,” Minju says with a hitched inhale, a hiccup, when the cool air finally hits her skin. “Anything but that.”
“You want more than just a hot mouth and fingers, huh?” Cute.” She tells Minju, dryly. “Well, why don’t you show him again how ready you actually are.”
Minju’s way ahead before you get the chance to register it: her hand well below your waist, wrapping her dainty fingers around your cock and the reflexive suck of your gut is the exact same as in the car when her lips make contact she can- god - she’s gonna-
Both exchange and share a glance, leaning their heads and drinking the sight of your inevitable demise. Minju raises her leg in the open space of yours and Dahyun’s happily helping along - hand to her thigh and making her feel lighter.
And your mind feels the exact same way when you kiss Minju once more. Which shows how much passion she has in somebody she likes; it’s sweet, wonderful, and really just pushing to keep going. Dahyun watches the whole thing unfold: you gripping tighter on Minju and handing you over the work while she pulls the dress lower and lower until it’s nothing but a pool of blue at her feet. Then she pitches in the effort. If a pair of hands and mouth isn’t enough for Minju, what’s wrong with adding another? Your clothes are soon falling out of your rigid frame not long after, and that’s the last piece finally unraveling. Minju’s still got her hand to your cock still and you’re tending to her breasts - her collarbone, Dahyun letting the width of her hips fill her palms and settles in the place of Minju on the wall.
You really can’t help yourself. Hands feasting over the unclaimed skin. You’re grasping Minju’s waist, her unimaginable ass - you hear Dahyun laugh as you’re nibbling on her jaw. The facial structure itself reminds you of another girl you and Dahyun had escapade with not long ago: Tzuyu was her name- was it? Probably. Now isn’t the time to think about it.
Because you keep kissing Minju. There isn’t really any other motive than that. Her pert mouth with those pouty lips, the sticky-messy kind and perfect enough to get more sloppy. Dahyun covers her breasts and pinches the hard buds as Minju accustoms your leg in the space between her legs. And she’s just- having the most fun out of the three of you. You think it would be Dahyun having her ‘i made it moment’ right at this second, and you’re sure she has that thought somewhere in her brain. This is Minju’s time to shine, between you two, and she’s living in it. One hand is full of Dahyun’s ass from behind, and the other’s pulling your cock closer and closer to her hips until the bits of precum starts to smear over her stomach, jerking and jerking.
“I haven’t mentioned how much I love this cock,” Minju spills with an airy laugh. Biting her lip down at feeling she got back in the car. Though she lays an admission: “If you really let me, I would’ve hopped on it in the driver's seat while we were on our way back.”
“You should’ve,” you were about to say, but Dahyun beats you to it. “Had you been riskier enough.”
Minju bites her lip down a little harder, head tipped by Dahyun that shines a spot on her chest where you notice a beauty mark- actually two beauty marks. Something to keep focus on with your eyes and not gander down to her hand had your cock. Rubbing your head right at her clit and she-
“No doubt she’s ready,” you tell the both of them, putting your two fingers between your cock and her cunt for confirmation. “I was surprised you didn’t jump on the opportunity in the car.”
“Thought I could skip to the part where you take me as I am, like I haven’t been touched in my life.” Minju threads the phrase out smoothly; little does she know that would be the last coherent thing she will say tonight. Blatantly point out the most obvious thing in your eyes: “you’ve got two of the most beautiful women in your hands and your cock isn’t fucking me yet. Is- is that gonna change anytime soon-”
“To hell with the foreplay and toying,” Dahyun coyly says, setting the declaration. “Say goodbye to your legs for the time being. You won’t be able to feel them once we’re done, or even if you’re ready for seconds.”
“Or thirds.” You smirk.
“Even if your manager calls him, he won’t answer.” Dahyun assures.
Somehow the three of you were going to end up in the bed one way or another, but right now: Dahyun raises Minju’s arms up, her wrists crossed instinctually, and opens up the chance for you to lift her leg. The stability is there with Dahyun behind, closing the distance where it’s skin on skin on skin.
Dahyun’s dreamy gaze captures her creation coming to life, holding her hips along with you, then her nuzzling cheek to the back of her neck. “The perfect girl.” All sleepy smiled with her eyes closed, “A clean slate for him to just-”
Right when you slip your cock inside, it’s behind closed doors - no flashing cameras, no name being called to the stage.
You’ve got Minju right where she is. Where she wants to be.
“Oh sweetheart,” you breathe, and you don’t flinch at the broken pitch Minju sings.
“-fuck your brains out to your wildest dreams. Isn’t that right, Min Min? Look into his eyes and show him how badly you want it.”
You freeze. Because you’re just staring into the endless void of those illustrious, beautiful irises Minju bears. Her face pulls a minor wince at the sensation - like she’s about to cry, but she’s nodding despite it; her arched back, the tipped head, her leg bound to your thigh - curling her toes and sinking her nails into your shoulders- holding on for dear life.
The only thing you want to manage: “Minju, baby- this cunt.” This is something you want to capture, fulfill a desire you didn’t think you had. Dahyun will be expecting your thanks later, and you’ll owe her big time.
“Mhm, I figured.” Dahyun laughs, victorious. “Go ahead, fuck those pretty lips of hers. Make her cum like you do with me.”
“You’ll get me again.” You’re saying that as some routine, rather than a promise. The groan falling out your tongue is a red herring in itself. Minju’s ass rests on your hands, still getting used to the insane width of her hips when rounding at the swell. Spread her raised leg wider to push your cock all the way in. Murmuring and mumbling the same in loose prayer.
Minju’s learning curve isn’t hard to follow, nor get used to. Even though it’s the first time you’ve got yourself inside all night, that's evident with the amount of ‘holy shit’ you keep mouthing as she puffs her chest out, lifting her upper half as the lower is hopelessly slipping down your length. Dahyun wasn’t kidding when she told you her body was primed for sex: hips broad enough for you to palm (and not grip if needed), to her slick cunt, swallowing up the shaft with an endless supply of heat.
Dahyun hums above the tics Minju gives with her exhales, sliding her hips down to yours; rolling them on the slight elevation provided by her other leg still on the floor, tip-toed. “Okay- holy shit,” she grits, her sly and elegant persona ripped out of her; in disbelief and in reverence: “How does this even fucking-”
A hold and yank at the apex. The audible slap is loud for someone to hear next door. Minju’s yelp doubles down on the point.
In the heat of everything. In the heat of Minju’s cunt swallowing your cock whole now. Dahyun caresses her friend’s pleasure-stricken expression, nibbling and kissing the cuff of her ear. Hand now to her clit to get her closer- faster- to that fine edge. Minju’s back bucks the opposite of the arch she managed to hold impressively well, but Dahyun (again, you can thank her for the literal support) presses down on her upper back, opens her breasts up for you to smother yourself in.
“It just does. He just does.” Dahyun supplies Minju’s working theory. “Your pretty pussy is made for a cock like his. Such a good girl for taking him so well-”
“Fuck-” is all Minju stutters. Unable to say anything else.
Her body is unbelievably responsive with the slip in, drag out motion. After all, you’re the one giving the goods. Fucking her poor pussy and splitting her legs open and listen to her whine and whimper in the same repeating fashion before Dahyun swoops her lips in to shut her up. “Oh my god,” she mumbles into the pair. “It’s so good,” and it’s everything to her. “His cock fills me up so well-”
“Right? Just let him take care of you, baby? Okay?” Dahyun’s fingers corral in a ‘v’, where she catches some of the slick and your cock sliding and feel how wet you two made her. She looks down in the low lights, gasps. “You see that? So much fucking cream down there. You naughty girl.”
You look down as well, and it’s a gentle layer of white spread all over. Minju’s liking this, and you are too.
“Holy shit,” Minju spits. The sound competing between the wails and moans - you feel her leak more. “So good. So good-”
“Yeah?” You and Dahyun say in unison. Softly. Cradling poor, pretty Minju.
“I can’t- I need. I need you two-”
You can’t stop this. Dahyun will have your dick severed and in her hand if you do. But who in their right mind would ever think of dropping her while she’s coming undone. Not while Dahyun’s arms are hooked beneath Minju’s shoulders; you, holding her dangling leg up higher, stretching Minju’s body in the hopes of furthering the sensation. Break that cunt up along with her voice.
“Breathe, Min Min. Let him take you,” Dahyun shoots a glance at you, mouth hovering yours like a tease at the crossroads. Minju’s hand clings to the back of your head, lips to the ear, head bobbing amongst the hitched gasps and clench of her teeth.
“Minju.” You’re saying her name that way for the second time tonight. “God- look at you. Such a good fucking girl for me, letting us hold you while I fuck your cunt up all the right ways,” you groan, “-Dahyun holding you up while I dick you down-”
“Bless her, bless you,” she sighs out in thanks. “You’re too good to me.”
The rhythm keeps going. Your mind doing everything it can to keep up with the beats down your heart and hips. Minju’s body is in complete euphoria the way you pull halfway and drive back in, watch her face light up a million times brighter when Dahyun slips a finger in along with your cock.
“As if you wanted anything else- fucking- unreal.” She’s still got that confidence from earlier. Hoping that you can take that away from her.
“Wouldn’t trade the world for this,” you say.
“Why would we?” Dahyun adds on, and it just- feels right. Those two got all the awards. You’re just acknowledging them with your own reward.
Minju clings on tighter. The arch in her back going the opposite direction as before, hunching, embracing; hopelessly becoming a puddle soaking your body. Her sweet little cunt and those fox like eyes, the low timbre of her voice coming around only to be replaced with a high pitched moan - it’s a splitting image, in the appearance and feeling - embedding your cock inside to the same spot you hit before and you almost feel bad for the girl. Like she was meant to take the hitting hips- because she’s made for it.
Dahyun - to her own fun, coils her fingers around your shaft. To add to the pressure, the friction. She even teases the outer rim of Minju’s pussy lips because she can. Those small hands: so delicate and light, touching and pinching and even gently slapping-
Minju wails.
“You- you’re- you’re gonna make me fucking cum-”
“Goodness, are we?” Dahyun inquires, sneering into Minju’s cheek.
“Yes, yes-”
“I don’t think he heard you just now,” Dahyun hushes, “say it one more time for us, Min min,” and you know well that power isn’t one of Dahyun’s key archetypes, but when she grips Minju’s chin and wiggles a finger past her teeth. She doesn’t even register the nice nerve pinch at the bite. “You fucking little slut. Minju, take that fucking cock in your pussy like it’s yours-”
“B- Be”
“What’s that?” The pleads are helpless, because Minju’s fingers slip and grasp onto you, raising her body like that was the thing holding her back. It doesn’t stop you from fucking her cunt into oblivion - having the tight heat and engulfing sopp of her pussy be the only thing for you to focus on.
“You’re gonna cum, aren’t you?” Dahyun says, and her circling hand doesn’t let up as Minju’s voice reaches those similar tones, “Why don’t you do it. Cum. Cum right now. All over his fucking cock-” and at this point, most of the superiority complex has fully taken over. Enough with all the nice praise and encouragement, Minju will do exactly what Dahyun tells her to do: “Let his cock cum up all inside your pretty little belly, make you feel so full. I better see that small bump where it’s poking so deep-”
“Yes-”
You’re blindly nodding along. Hips coming to contact with hers in muscle memory. “I know you want everyone to hear you, huh Minju? How much of a whore you can be when you got a nice cock all up inside you, breeding-”
“Yes, please.” Minju gasps. “Please, just- give me that-”
“Say it.” Dahyun announces. “We wanna hear your pretty voice.”
Minju, at the center of everything; the center of you two, lays it out: “My god- yes, I want his cum so bad. I want him to - shit! Yes, yes, have him breed my - fucking - pussy and nothing else-”
You look to Dahyun for the revelation, and she gives you this look saying: Yeah, you heard the girl. Go ahead and give her a baby.
Then she adds: “If that’s what she likes, don’t stop.”
So you keep fucking her. Slam your hips harder. Minju’s downfall ripples over her body as she tries to stand on her leg. Her head rests at your chest, at the collarbone, her tongue licking up the sweat off your skin. She murmurs a “hmm’ with her jaw chattering, in response to you saying her name, every angle of her cunt shaping itself to your cock. Bottoming out in a seamless fashion which does feel like you’re fucking Dahyun again - the feeling eeriely the same. Since she utters the same words Dahyun said to you multiple times before:
“Cum,” she sputters. “Want your cum so bad. Want you to breed me over and over and over-”
Dahyun’s massaging her belly as you could feel the nerves in your body go haywire. Minju’s body goes limp at the hold as you keep pushing your cock deep into her cunt at a consistent pace, taking it slow with one good stroke - and you breathe, deep. Look in Dahyun’s eyes and see her veneers peering into a smile, right where you’re about to lose it. There, in Minju’s stomach, and Dahyun’s words cross your mind as to how deranged the proposition was in the first place.
You don’t even register the pulses, cumming inside her. She’s wailing so loudly that it mixes with the tinnitus ringing in your ears.
Minju’s lips goes slack, mouthing incoherent nonsense, head tipped over the shoulder making her neck look longer.
“Aw, there we go,” Dahyun coos into Minju’s ear, patting her belly. “Got it warm and thick- in your nice little stomach.” She then swipes her slit, now coated in white, gets a taste for herself - a small little appetizer. “Mmmm, yummy.”
It takes your entire being to fuck her whole one last time, wrenching out the last few shots of cum in Minju’s cunt. “Fuck-” Minju slurs out, letting her limbs go limp; lazily kissing you and her fingers graze the ends of your hair - lightly clinging.
“Honey,” you breathe, and it’s fucking wonderful. “Was it everything you wanted?”
Her throat bobs as Dahyun makes you take over the weight, carrying her by the ass, the loosely wrapped legs giving weight. The smirk she bears is enough to show you. Yes. You wonder. Perfect. Perfection at its finest.
–
“Dahyun,” you’re calling out, and she shows her side profile over her shoulder, hand to her chest behind her back, the naked hourglass figure impossible to look away.
She replies, “Hm?” Asking like she doesn’t know what’s about to happen.
Minju’s hobbling along, hand wrapped to your cock and jumpstarting your sore muscles, kissing your arm since the girl can’t get enough.
“There’s a reason why the blinds are open.”
“Is that so?” She’s teasing, walking on the balls of her feet until the moonlight cascades around her frame, outlining in the brightness. “I hope you’ll keep your promise in fucking me on the balcony.”
“We’ll burn that bridge when we get to it,” you tell her, and Minju snorts in the back - still cock drunk and lust ridden where she’s finding everything to be funny.
Minju gets ahead of the curve, leaving you for the woman in front. Hand caressing her backside; from her ass, working the way up. Dahyun may not look like it, but she’s been waiting for you to have a go at her. Most of the outside has faded out from your vision; leaving you, her, and Minju.
“Had I not been here, it would’ve just been you two in this room together,” Minju says, leaning over next to Dahyun and arching her back the same way as she is. “Guess I should consider myself lucky,” she says, smile widening when you finally reach Dahyun’s backside.
“We’re not done with you,” Dahyun tells her, a sharp inhale passing her teeth when the head of your cock slides across her aching folds. Up, down, maybe a little slap to just be evil. “Oh, babe. Don’t do this to me.”
“What is it that I’m doing exactly?” You ask naively, eyes hypnotized at the width of her ass, brushing against your cock without you having to do anything. “I’m not the one who’s a little antsy to get split apart.”
“That’s what she wants out of you,” Minju groans, slipping her two fingers inside her own cunt - probably to mimic the feeling. “Maybe you need a reference to look at.”
“No need,” you retort, pursing your lips the more you push your cock into her sopping cunt, stomach billowing for the unexpected blowback. Get your hands at the swell of her sloping hip and lean down to kiss her back.
“Oh, oh-” Dahyun’s mouth cobbles out, putting her face against the glass and she lifts her body to the feeling of your lips. “There- right there, that fucking cock is just-”
“Big? Amazing? Too much?” Minju teases, burying her nose into her temple, licking her cheek. “I had a feeling you’d clench a little harder when he slipped it in.”
You remember like it was the first time, how she fits so snug around your cock like a sock or a glove in the first slow strokes, getting acquainted with how her wals kiss every sensitive part and nerve and vein across your shaft. How she messes around with the angle and even getting on her tippy toes - to deepen the arch in her back and lift her ass up since the flexibility is always a-fucking-must. Pushing down with your hand for one second and grabbing the ends of her the next. Soon you’ll imagine the ripples on her skin match the waves below, creaming her cunt as her heat swallows you whole.
Minju treats herself, which makes the whole job easier. Dahyun knows well how you’ll take her however you’d like. Faster, harder, softer even. And she won’t hesitate to tell her needs. Your grip around her hair tugs a little harsher, but she can take it. When the strokes start to increase in pace, where you’re dragging back as far as you can and yank her hips back onto yours - make her yelp, let the whole world know who’s yours.
“Fuck- fuck, he feels-” Dahyun spills out, kissing and telling. Minju hums in agreement because she knows and doesn’t need her to explain anything else. “Don’t- shit, just keep your fucking cock inside-” and your grip on her ass isn’t kind from this point on. The sensation choking you like a vice, the tightness, her heat leaking in the wetness around your cock. Minju brings Dahyun’s arm around her back, another hold for you to grab, and you can see the fist she forms which doesn’t help to the trembling legs below. “Fuck- you’re rubbing me up so good, how the fuck do you do that?”
“He just does,” Minju says, and it’s a callback - a full circle moment of sorts, really.
“Hey, those are my words-”
“Not anymore,” she tells her, hand deep in her hair and keeping her neck upright, cheek away from the cold pane of the glass. “Not while lover boy here’s finally owning your ass to thank you for bringing us all together here. So he’s gonna hold you- like this, and fuck your pussy full until you beg him to stop. Even if he does- it’ll be done with a hot load up in your fucking guts.”
The further you push your cock in, the more addicting the feeling gets. Your hands are leaving red over the pale canvas and her neck is riddled in crimson. This is what she wanted after all - what she asked for. She pleas for a breather, which you give: “Wait- wait; fuck, I need a second- okay,” while you slide the length all the way, pull her body up and pin her where her tits spread across the window, the coolness absolving the heat away. Minju’s kissing her shoulder, then yours, and manages to get her lips to the both of you when Dahyun’s back is flush with your front.
“How much time do we need?” Minju asks, gauging the conditions.
“A few seconds,” you supply unknowingly, to which Dahyun shakes her head. “Don’t know about her, though.”
From her, through blown out eyes, “I still want him.”
“You already have him.” Minju tells Dahyun, and her body goes even further back when she feels the friction inside her.
So. You keep going. Even when the sound ripped out of your lungs is agonizing because the wetness is making you desperate for that chained release. Dahyun groans - growling with shut eyes and taking your cock deep.
(She may not admit it for the next few moments, but she’ll also beg for the same thing you gave to Minju.)
“I think she’s ready,” is what Minju says, eyes flaring in excitement at the sudden slip of your fingers in her cunt, a pinch to her cunt as a reminder of her place in all of this. “Okay,” she’s telling you, “Sorry, I- fuck; can’t even have my own fun, can I?”
“Be a darling and try to keep her quiet, or don’t,” you say, one full stroke in and pulling your hips all the way back. “I love when she gets this way.”
Minju’s face forms this look, with a twitch when Dahyun clenches around your cock the second or third thrust, twitching her brows at the sound of knees banging the glass on accident, but the pain is subsided by pleasure instantaneously. “Why don’t you show us how messy you can get with her then?”
Dahyun’s voice lifts when the pace resumes to normal. She’s gotten herself so soaked that it’s leaking onto your cock - out her folds. She bites down a squeal or two when your fingers bury themselves into her hair, tip her head backwards and her muscles are reduced to pure putty. You and her try your best to keep track of the strokes - the fifth, the sixth, the seventh one where it grants an ass slap. Minju, in the midst of all this, serves a poetic justice of her own when she grabs Dahyun’s chin and slips a finger inside - something to keep her mind off of the pounding from the back and lets you test how deep her back can bend. Or even slip around to her stomach and bring her body the other way where it curves your cock deep in her womb and that’s a spot you don’t remember hitting before, but- God, the yell reaches a new note tonight.
One touch. One touch is all it took, to ease Dahyun’s mind from the endless wrath of pleasure coursing all over her body. That’s given by Minju, in the most Minjuest way possible - kissing her swollen lips, swallowing her moans down her throat so Dahyun can only hear the claps of skin, waving and rippling in your eyes.
“Oh fuck!” Dahyun screams into Minju’s face, but she just laughs it off since it’s nothing personal.
Minju just kisses Dahyun again. Muting her cries and smiling into the girl. She loves her. Adores her. You’re pretty sure these two have hooked up without you knowing and it’s already shown in how much passing they’re both putting into it.
Dahyun loves having it rough - you’re happy to give that to her. For how badly she needs this.
It’s all riding on the feel of her cunt, how it’s managed to get you in every nook where your cock touches inside her, the trick of her tongue and mouth working you to that point earlier - ripping the sounds deep in your lungs, but it’s her who cums the second out of you three.
You’re fucking her so hard she can’t control her voice.
A ripple effect in real time. Her heat washes over every corner of her body - you swear you haven’t gotten your cock deep enough so she can grab and curl around to own you, where you think she already has. Coming all the way undone. And it’s messy. So fucking messy.
Her hands hold you so dearly, lips so close to yours. You could see the hint of her reflection, how the light shines on her porcelain skin and the faint lines of her eyes closed, encapsulated in pleasure. Minju’s chin is stacked on your shoulder and pulls a lazy smile. Mumbling sweet nothings beneath the rising moans, adjusting to you and Dahyun’s height where she stands a tad bit taller.
In another corner of the universe, the roles could be switched between them, leading to the same inevitable outcome.
“Fuck me full,” Dahyun tells you, alternating with every wince and groan spilling out of her lips. “Want it- so fucking bad. You perfect bastard-” Here you’re cupping her chin as her voice gets raised - more, more, or some substance of the syllables where you’ve heard them before. With a lover's touch and mindful care for a face and body like hers, unlike the slick noises of your cock jutting out and embedding itself back in, Minju licking your neck which slightly helps the condition but not by much.
You and Minju can see Dahyun’s breath bless the class with a white, grayish fog, lip quivering until she has to hold it down to proffer a few more parting words: “hold me, love me, don’t let me down, please,” then, “your cock is-”
“Hold her up until she can’t take it anymore,” Minju growls, “She’s not gonna last any longer-”
“You fucking slut,” you snap back at Minju, probably to Dahyun too with her mewling in some form of an agreement. The pounding of your hips keeps its pace.
She clenches a bit harder to the increased tempo.
Sooner or later, you’ll have to wind up on the bed. Not just to rest, relax, or take a breather, but to swap the idea of putting your legs up rather than on the ground, fighting against gravity. Though, you’d love to stay like this- for as long as you could hold it, where the mix of blue and white illuminates through the looking glass and to your bodies. Dahyun’s fingers slide up on the pane, fingers spreading, high to where she could get them, extending her figure to the heavens where the imaginary gods could look down in astonishment.
“Dahyun, you feel- fuck, I’m cumming,” you sputter, “God, baby-” pushing her body flat and railing her ass beyond the breaking point.
Two good strokes would be the last good moves from you, fucking your cum into the muscles of Dahyun’s cunt, where you want to add fuel to the fire - soak up all the slick with more spill. The three of you are all collectively groaning and saying obscene words, burying the evidence and hope to god a scandal won’t come out of it. You pull out, slowly, let Dahyun savor the feeling of your cock leaving her. Minju’s pulling her head the other direction and sloppily slicking up her lips. Some of the cum gets on the head of your cock; so, you rub her pink folds and push right back in, see Dahyun’s body tense up since you gave her no warning, and Minju just laughs. You’re even kissing her first then Dahyun’s backside, with your cock warm in her cunt still.
Neither of you three move. It’s a moment to breathe, reflect. Normally you would be the first to panic for every slip into the mess up with Dahyun.
(In reality: you fucking love it. Despite the denial in the admission.)
You’ll just wait for the pregnancy scare to come back around again.
“Is our lovely little princess all fucked out and bred up like she asked?” Minju says, rubbing Dahyun’s back and belly and peppering her shoulder with more kisses. Holding her while you take a step back and plop to the side of the mattress.
Dahyun, still breathing in between smacking lips, “I want another.”
You and Minju both look at each other in surprise. “She’s usually competitive with me,” you say, “so it’s nothing new.”
“I figured,” Minju brushes it off, helping Dahyun walk over to you, one straddling leg over the other. Where Dahyun truly shines in the height advantage. Can’t deny she looks pretty with her straight hair now frazzled, from all the pulling and grabbing-
“Min min,” Dahyun calls Minju, “Do you mind grabbing something for me?”
“What is it? And where.”
“Michael Kors duffle bag, middle zipper.” Is all she says, and her lips are back on you. The kiss alone in a normal occasion would be enough for you to lose the air in your chest, away from the public eye and you two can fully embrace each other between the intimate, slow sex to the fast, rough fucking depending on the mood - usually one outshines the other and it’s an open ended interpretation.
Minju disappears out of your view for what seems like a few seconds, comes back with a hat in her fingers, holds it as she sees you and Dahyun cross further away from the edge. Refusing to keep your eyes on Minju, Dahyun’s hands are quick to shift your gaze back on her - hitching between muffled words and sighs and moans all the same, pressing down hard on skin where the shade goes beyond red.
You, of all people too, should know this: what Dahyun has is hers to keep.
“Greedy little girl isn’t she?” Minju asks, with a little smirk peeking at the corners. Scooting herself closer and closer to the action in excitement. The unspoken law of attraction, possessed by you and Dahyun both. “So tragic - like she can’t get enough.”
“You too,” Dahyun darts back, shimmying her pussy lips down at the underside and it’s the slightest bit of -fuck, pressure applied at the underside, her gyrating hips doesn’t help the case either.
Minju passes the hat off to her; as fitting for the position that she’s in: a cowgirl hat she puts on to make the appearance true to life.
You catch yourself staring much longer than usual.
“Makes no sense,” breathes Dahyun, brushing the head of your cock against her folds with such ease, and you move her hand away to tap lightly on her clit. Made you want more. “How his cock is still hard after he-”
“Fucked your ass raw?”
(I mean, yeah-)
“Mmm, I think she’s ready,” Minju says, huskily, hand to cheek and you don’t think twice when her thumb slips past between your lips. The wicked smile eliciting as she’s doing so only sparks a multitude of different things to try after- or later. “Ride his cock, Dahyunie. I wanna see how good you can tame him.”
It’s very possible, and she’s done it before.
Dahyun pushes you back into the sheets, lets your hands roam all over her front, “My lovely girl,” you coo, smirking.
She gasps, bites down hard on her teeth at the feeling of your cock pushing in, filling her up. “God- okay, wait-”
The fucking stretch. Slow at first, but once she took more than half the seamless movement of her taking the entire length is a sight you’re hoping to see again and again. Your thumbs find themselves at the indent of her hip and thigh, greedily pressing down and unwilling to let go. Rigid to smooth, the breaths steadying with every rock of her hips.
You lean up and fix the hat for her, leave a kiss on her neck for the good job. “Good?”
“Mmm,” Dahyun hums with a smile, getting more and more confident with the feeling. “Feels so fucking good.”
Minju grabs hold of her waist and raises her up- just slightly, where you could feel your shaft tense up in anticipation. But instead, you buck your hips to meet in the middle, wrap your hand to her waist along with Minju’s arms as Dahyun grinds her cunt onto your cock.
“Bet that must feel real good for you, doesn’t it?” Minju giggles out.
“Oh, I can’t even begin to describe it,” you barely whisper, because Dahyu’s cunt sucks the air right out of you.
“Won’t be long for seconds then, are we?”
Minju’s words fizzle out in your ears the more you watch Dahyun lean forward one second, back the next, hips rising and falling on your shaft. The expressions written on her face changing every beat of skin hitting against itself, alternating between fucking herself to you thrusting. If Minju’s words couldn’t register in your head, then the sounds of Dahyun whining on top is literal music happening in real time.
Minju’s on her knees, rubbing herself up at the sight of Dahyun hopping along. Until you decide to help along to reach that high again. In the embrace of your head on your chest, you’re scattering kisses all over her breasts and soon the idea of Dahyun and Minju getting off to you becomes more and more of the current reality.
Dahyun sucks in, through her teeth and stomach, curling her lips when the upward thrusts start to get ruthless. Her hands are gripping and soon the patchwork of nails will start clawing their way into your skin. Despite all that, her body holds still to your grasp, like it’s used to the clutch and all she has to do is keep herself still.
“My- fuck, it’s not even fair; so- so fucking big, you are,” she strains out, hooking an arm around your neck and your hand’s to her ass. “Baby please- ‘m gonna fucking-” is the last thing she says before her own cry cuts her off, burying her lip into the dip of your shoulder - the ache coursing through her body she has to channel it through her teeth onto your skin.
“Cum,” Minju orders, knowing very well Dahyun’s getting to that point. Fixing the hat so dutifully and moving the wisps of hair falling to her front. “I know you want to. You can take it. You can take him.”
You’re certain you could hear the squelch of her cunt the faster you move.
“For me,” you say, the low rumble in your tone slightly trembling, trying to keep up. “Just a little more.”
“Yours- yours. So yours, please. It’s all yours-”
She’s biting hard on her bottom lip, and you’re shushing her.
“Breathe, babygirl.”
“God- it’s, ugh,” groans Dahyun. “K-keep going-”
Little do you realize, she’s been working you up again. In those wobbling lips and the gasps in the little spaces of your bodies, shadowed by the echoing of wet skin hitting against itself. Dahyun switches from the fast fall of her hips, to the agonizing grind of your cock filling her up - all the way down to the hilt.
It doesn’t take much - not that it had to. Dahyun’s helpless to stop the second spill of cum flooding her womb; the sounds of her the same as always: fucked to the brim, where the head of your cock gets to the deepest spot in her cavern and you see her ruby shaped eyes meet yours - half-lidded and hazy. Just the way you like them.
“Fuck, Dahyun-”
“Ah,” Minju sighs, ‘There we go. Finally.” She’s saying like it’s some relief, cradling Dahyun’s pleasure stricken head as her body freezes when she rests her hips for the last time, leaning down to kiss your mouths in a lazy fashion, then to your jaw, whispering a string of words you’ll ask her later when she’s back to her sense.
Her lips are back to where they never leave: yours. “Do-” she tries to say, and you’re laughing.
“What is it, love?” You like throwing the pet name around. Maybe the meaning behind it doesn’t apply to her (yet), but it does for your case. “Use your words. Anything.”
“Let. Let-”
“Take your time.” You’re speaking oh-so softly to her. She’s still got her hat on, sliding off her hair and behind.
Dahyun takes a few breaths to collect herself. All her thoughts as best she could conjure up. Which she does: “I want him to milk you again.”
Comically on cue, you and Minju both gasp. Is it in shock? Surprise? No. Neither of those assumptions could suffice the wicked grin Minju has on her face. Not that it was a competition or an endurance test. You’ve concluded that both of these girls are absolute freaks having fun with a cock together.
“Didn’t he just-”
“He’s a good one.” Dahyun explains with no elaboration to Minju, for (hopefully) the last time. Sucking in a shared inhale when her pussy lips slide up and off your cock, the audible wet sound beyond obscene; some of the locks on her hair actually get caught to the slick underside, licking the evidence and pursing her mouth right above your balls. “What? You don’t trust me?”
“No, it’s not that. I just-”
“Why don’t you lay down and let him make you feel good? Don’t you want him to fuck your hole full again? Until you’re sick and cock drunk you go dumb?”
By your own standards, this is teetering to pure insanity for Dahyun. Minju doesn’t see it that way, since her expression hasn’t changed, putting no fight when Dahyun’s hands are on her body, flipping her over on her back and spreading her legs wide. The hand-off is something to take note of - the coordination. Soon you’re slapping your cock on her clit, making her body tense up. She doesn’t even blink when you slip inside.
Her eyes go wide, and you swear you see sparks flying beneath them.
“There’s that face,” Dahyun urges, holding your chest from the rear. A kiss to your neck, with a departing tongue. “She’s all yours.”
Your hips move on their own, hands fast to the hourglass curve of her waist- her fucking hips. With every passing stroke it wriggles up to her tits in the same motion: down then up, up then down. A quick gaze to the action below and you can’t understand how well she’s meant for this kind of work.
“This fucking cunt,” you grit, “My fucking god.”
“No room for control.” Dahyun’s wrapped around your middle in quick succession. “The best girls like her are always meant to be bred. Pounding her pretty little fuckhole because she always has you coming back for more.”
Minju’s arms are all over the place. First gripping the sheets, then covering her face - touching her hair. She’s so goddamn pretty and even more beautiful when completely fucked out - the pink now apparent in her cheeks with the lighting provided by the blistering moon through the windows. Her brows are creasing and the opposite, mouth canted and spilling in tongues. “Mmnh, fuck, you’re so good- so deep- ah-”
You can’t help but be amazed you’ve got her to be like this in a short span of time. Legs open and letting your cock push and drag its way out. The shadow creating this mosaic on the wall - where all of your bodies are meshed into one.
Somehow you manage to bring Minju closer, have her (somewhat long, lengthy) legs curl loosely around your thighs. Where the motion of your hips hit that same spot you discovered earlier unintentionally, bend the springs deep in the mattress where the frame is moving along with your thrusts. The harder you grip her waist, the louder the slaps are. You don’t even show a hint of worry when Minju goes limp in her arms, her back arching towards you, using the position to the fullest potential.
Dahyun observes from above, smiles when you grab both of Minju’s wrists and she takes it upon herself to grab your necktie conveniently at the edge of the bed. You don’t even notice her tying it around her hands and putting them above her head, holding as you find the perfect angle and aim for the same spot to get her cumming in no time flat.
“Thanks,” you’re panting out.
“Breed my little girl again.” Dahyun says to you. And you feel it in the grip, that addicting clench - massaging your cock around her slick walls. “Hold her hands, her wrists, just make sure you empty every drop inside her.”
“More, more,” the girl beneath you cries out. “Let me be good- milk your cock like she asked. I want it in my fucking pussy- you motherfucker, just do it already.”
“You heard her, have Min min here take it,” Dahyun growls into your face. You don’t even yield to look for the assurance, because it’s drawn up in her mind. “I want her to have it in her fucking stomach.”
Dahyun’s role in all of this isn’t common: to be the one calling the shots, but you’re welcoming it anyway with her at your side.
As for Minju’s case: she’s been reduced to a river of breath, bent into hisses and hums from the soft flesh of her mouth and throat.
Even when you want your mouth to comply with the demands, your body does the talking. Before it sets in: you seize the movements when the first rope of cum coats Minju’s walls; hell, you don’t keep track of the countless pulses of cum shooting inside her cunt, slamming your face onto hers and groaning so loudly she could choke on the sound alone. Her breathing shudders and you go with the slight tip of her head back, feeling every push of fresh cum inside to the point you fail to control it.
Dahyun smiles in approval as you bring it upon yourself to keep thrusting, forcing every fiber in your body and using everything - even using a whimpering Minju at your hips - to make sure she wrings out all the bits of white from your cock.
When you slow down, lightheaded and the scent of the room is full of sweat and sex, Minju’s swollen cunt keeps you grounded while she keeps your cock warm. “Good job,” you hear Dahyun whisper, and manages to get her slack lips onto yours, then leans over to show some love to Minju as well. “Well done, sweetie. We’re both proud of you.”
You didn’t want this to end - and Minju makes it known with an unrestrained sigh when your cock finally leaves her properly fucked cunt.
There she lays once the soreness sets in, cum leaking out and you hear Dahyun giggle when her pussy makes a subtle ‘pop’. You lift a brow in the bubble that forms in the mess, but they’re both looking at you-
“What?” The two ask in unison.
You shake your head, and smile. “Nothing,” you say. Which is the whole truth.
–
(Seconds before you doze off, you twist your head to them sitting up. Actually, Minju’s on her back still with an elbow for support. Dahyun’s hand is between her legs and scooping the lasting bits of cum from her pussy, licking it up and kissing Minju.
You don’t bother asking about the debauchery happening across. Someday the inquiry will come from you, just not today.)
–
“No.”
“Yes.” Is what Minju says, but it’s not directed at you.
“No way. No freaking way.”
Minju’s sitting near the nightstand, in one of your shirts. Knees stacked elegantly as she maintains the professional mannerisms on the phone. You assume it’s her manager, but she ends the call on one hand and switches over to the hotel phone, resuming her conversation. “Yes I understand. By the way, can I order some room service?”
Dahyun shuffles from the open balcony, welcoming in the morning breeze. Bathrobe coated around her figure and in the oversized slippers. Two small boxes are in her hands, and she meets you with the same eye smile she always flashes.
You bite your knuckle as Minju’s nodding her head. Curious as to what was discussed. “Okay, we’ll come right down in fifteen minutes.” She hangs up the phone soon after.
“Well?” You ask.
“Believe it or not,” Minju starts, and she’s trying her best not to smile. “They want to see us in the lobby to talk about- last night.”
Dahyun tips her head down with a grin and you’re arching your eyebrows in relief. “Thank god, I hope it wasn’t another noise complaint.”
“Oh they mentioned that as well,” Minju says, killing your whole mood.
“See? I told you,” Dahyun laughs, and it’s the kind where it’s cute and unbearably impossible to not go along with. There weren't plans in the schedule today, especially with Minju tagging along, so that alone could be drawn up as a free day. “How many complaints are we at now? Five? Six?”
“Seven,” you deadpan. “What’s with the boxes in your hand?”
“Pregnancy tests.” Dahyun answers. You look at Minju and all you see is her pursed lips with a thumbs up.
Oh god, you’re mouthing to yourself. As if this new adventure didn’t have much to unravel - turns out you’re absolutely wrong.
(When the two ask you ‘what’s the problem?’, they’re left puzzled with the facepalm you give. Little do they know about the smirk hidden behind your hand, and it goes to show that you’re just as sick and twisted like the both of them.)
-
(a/n: one year of kooyabooya fics, and what better way to go back with the two that started it all <3)
(Okay, that’s one way to get a conversation going if you were in Dahyun’s shoes.)
“I’m not gonna ask a second time. Answer the goddamn question.”
–
It already feels wrong to commit the action, and even worse to say it. Most of the day has been pretty bad as it is. Dahyun had a rough day at work when a bunch of things didn’t go her way. Just one unfortunate instance onto the next. Woke up late, missing a few makeup supplies, late to work because of a stupid ticket, and didn’t even get to reshoot the one scene for her role because the director apparently ‘forgot’. She really was just sitting in her trailer till she felt like dying.
As for your case. You had a long day too. So, you slept. Just- not in the way neither you or Momo had suspected. It’s not her fault she flaunted a body too tempting for the average man to resist, especially with that mouth of hers. You had to shut her up, and it’s somewhat safe to say that this was a tipping point of what was happening in the workplace leading up to the incident.
You’re setting the record straight, even if the lines are beginning to be scribbled lazily. Dahyun’s gaze remains unfazed while you’re trying to down as much wine as possible and she just told you that you’ve slept with one of your coworkers plus her best friend and you’re not sure how much worse this ultimatum could get.
Clearing your throat, sighing. Because the day can’t get any shitter. “You- didn’t even give me a chance to speak?”
“Which is why I’m letting you speak now.”
“Can we not make a big deal out of this?!”
“A big deal? Christ- do you hear yourself? With Momo?!” Dahyun raises her voice in agitation. You couldn’t have seen that coming. Scratch that: you definitely should’ve seen it coming.
Did you even think of what was gonna happen? Fuck no.
You and Momo are equally blamed for that.
Recalling the memory of Sana’s party, you remember seeing Momo in that strapless red dress, hot off the sewing machines showcased from the Met Gala, and Chaeyoung herself was even appalled at the appearance. Dahyun also was in agreement, unfailing to look away because she would’ve asked how your reaction would’ve been if she was sheathed in red. And the way Momo strutted her way to you two felt right out of a movie where all the girls are working towards stealing something valuable later.
(In a slight retrospect, yeah. You’ve seen the signs before.)
“Well, aren’t you gonna explain to me why?” Dahyun demands, and you’re wishing the wine was a whiskey instead. This kind of conversation was not one to be done sober.
“What do you want me to say!” You’re exclaiming, a mere move of the arm not tantamount to what you’ve done. “It’s not my fault that she’s equally all over me as you!”
And Dahyun, of all people, knows this. You and her are both sides of the same coin when it comes to Momo being the sole catalyst. Not since you’ve walked in on them accidentally while visiting their dance practice and that was the fastest one-eighty you did ever in your life. Or when Momo pulled you off to the side in some bar and made you forget about the belt left in the bathroom when everything’s all said and done. Or- the time they made you feel like a hotshot when they both visited your office and that was the talking point in the break room for freaking months.
You can sense the rage boiling in Dahyun, so much of it you can actually smell. Steaming off her pale skin in these rare occasions to where it turns into wanting to fuck someone into the sheets. You feel it. It’s hot when Dahyun gets like this, and you want it. The same could be said for Momo when she makes you wanna pop a blood vessel. Depending on the circumstance, and the girl, it varies from moment to moment.
While you can sense the blistering warmth enveloping the room, your hands grip the obsidian countertop to cool your nerves. If you wanted to make the hard choice - and you really, really wished you didn’t - it’s Dahyun. You want the girl who’s been at your side since college but can’t say a word without getting a slap on your arm or pinch of the ear, who willingly gives you a few extra napkins while eating out because she could never finish her meal and doesn’t say much to be annoying in order to get a rise or even when her other friends tease you and she can’t do much to protect either you or herself. Some days her face lights up when she walks out of the office and sees you waiting on the second step leaning on the railing and you look at her at the other corner of the room and wonder how she’d handle your cock. There’s also the fact she would taste so much better than the wine, a fine course once indulging in the appetizers.
Momo, in some corner of the world is probably thinking of this moment and watching with her palms rubbed together, devilishly smiling. Dahyun still can’t believe that you went to Momo. You had a sliver of interest to her friend as much as she did (again, another topic to be saved for another day, but if Dahyun’s pulling your finger, Momo’s doing the exact same thing too) but she’s funny and chaotic and if you really look into it - where you’ve done time and time before - then Momo’s in it for the fun at ripping the seams and leaving no care for the damages she leaves behind. Nayeon or Sana, whoever can get to Momo first, this girl is a problem.
“The fuck you say?”
You inhale deep, lighten your fingers off the edge. It didn’t occur to you what was said just now. “She wants me. Momo wants me, Dahyun. Simple as that. No strings attached.”
Dahyun huffs, toying the ends of her hair. She stares at you sliding the glass further and further away, unbuttoning the ends of your sleeves and you’re beginning to think of the limitless ideas running through her head of how to get your hands tied to her imagination. “Knowing her, I get the fact she’s-” her fingers are in two’s, making quotations, “-a literal sex tornado.”
That should be it. The end of the conversation right there. You and Momo fucked, end of story. Your mind isn’t helping in playing back the memory: eye fucking Momo a week prior, flash forward a few days after, winding up in Momo’s place and focusing on the heat, her finger, that fucking pussy; the messy bangs when you’re holding her head close to yours and her lips next to your ear. Dahyun wished that was her, cumming on your cock instead of Momo. Your wife, who’s within an arm's reach of the assortment of knives, looks at you as you think about Dahyun (or Momo) cumming. The idea of her killing you is a fast way to finish this ordeal.
“I-” Your tongue freezes between the words. “Not arguing with that statement, actually.”
Dahyun laughs, out of pure disbelief, walks her way towards you. Taking the bottle of wine and setting it next to the fridge. “If we’re going to be transparent with each other, no one else is going to get you fucked in the way that I do.”
Clenching your teeth was way much worse than her not grabbing the knife and charging at you. “Momo knows it was a one time thing. It was always gonna be a one time thing.”
“And it should always be me.” Dahyun says. Rolling her eyes with a disgusted crunch on her face
You could see her hand ball up in a fist. Both of your feet remain unmoved and the air hitting your neck comes in tiny pricks.
“Though,” her voice dejected, “seems like one of us has forgotten that.”
You lick your teeth, bite your lip.
“Care to elaborate?”
She looks up, tilts her head one side and to the opposite, shifts her gaze to the empty wine glass, seeing you in her peripheral. “I’m not gonna explain myself here.”
“Why not?”
Her shoulders tense and relax. “No matter who you talk to, whether it’s my friends crushing hard on you or after a long terrible day, I should be the one at the end of it.” Dahyun’s voice becomes increasingly agitated.
“It’s always you. Always.”
“Is that what you think? Have we not done everything to convince ourselves that?” Her hand lightly slaps the countertop, the wisps in her hair falling to the front of her face. “I’m not the one who’s forgotten our commitments.”
Your head starts to spin, heart pounding at an immeasurable rate. “You’re right. I have.”
Dahyun runs a hand down her face, then her neck. She would have these instances under stress, doing everything she can to micromanage herself and not have the other person take notice because: she’s not the kind of girl you’d want to piss off.
Some people- coworkers or co-stars - if you will, were very attentive at how Dahyun operated on and off the clock, watching her do these roles and have a guy or girl you don't even know much about have their care when you know it isn’t the case when she’s behind closed doors with you.
You start to feel uneasy, rubbing your palm across your leg, and when Dahyun crosses her arms as you’re slotting yourself behind. She looks over her shoulder, the slight tension of muscle and you haven’t even put your hands on the girl yet. You’re still gauging, waiting for her to talk. “Dahyun, please,” you mumble, fingers curling her elbows, slithering them in place around her waist.
“You-” and she sighs. “I hate when you do shit like this behind my back, especially if it’s with somebody that I’m also very close with.”
“Momo-”
“Momo told you to go to her.”
“The one time. I swear.”
“And yet you still went while I was out busy.” Dahyun’s accusation doesn’t sit on your nerves right, and your grip softens.
“I was gonna tell you before you left. And it was gonna come off the lines as ‘Hey! I know you’re probably busy, but I need a favor. Does Dahyun mind if I borrow you for a couple hours? Maybe have a few drinks with another person, probably Jihyo, and who knows?’ She could bring a few things over and we can talk about something more interesting besides work.’ That’s how I wished it would’ve gone.”
Dahyun laughs softly. Since you know very well that if you told her some half-assed constructed lie on the spot, she would’ve been fine with it. You’re aware of how jealous she could get without explicitly saying it and show instead. She wouldn’t have stopped you from going that day, and she’s not stopping your hand lightly clutching her breast. “Maybe a heads up from you or Momo would’ve been nice,” she huffs, leaning her head up to where the breath canvases your neck. “Now it looks like I have another thing to deal with once all of this is over with our work.”
“She’s shown you a thing or two, why not have her do it again?” You taunt.
Dahyun rolls her eyes once more. “Starting to think you should’ve married her instead.”
“We are not going there. Momo just went out of line because she’s missing that aspect in her life. I’m not regretting my choice here.”
‘My choice has always been the same as before,’ you felt compelled to say, ‘You.’ Dahyun has every right to be furious. You want to prove everything to her again. “Fucks sake, Dahyun.”
“Don’t twist this back on me.” Her voice snaps. “Enough. I’m tired. Let me get ready for bed. I can save this conversation for later. When we’re both in the right headspace.”
You pull your hands off of Dahyun, but not stepping back. This kind of proximity is always nice to keep. “I'm still guilty as charged?”
“For marrying me? Never.” For being a shortsighted bastard who’s lucky to not be out of the house by now. You wonder about her thoughts, or something like that. “Be glad I like you and Momo both.”
So you settle your bearings and back away. Dahyun hands you the wine bottle for you to place in the fridge while she heads to the bedroom, but stops her tracks when she notices you reach for your phone on the kitchen counter.
“Hey.”
“Hm?”
“Who- are you gonna call?”
You don’t answer her question and press the phone to your ear; you mouth the word ‘Momo,’ and give her a shameless wink as another way to piss her off
(You might be an actual fucking idiot for doing this though you’re doing it anyway.)
There is absolutely no way you’re pressing her buttons after she indirectly threatened to kill you. Calling Momo after what went down is only going to solidify your undoing. You don’t even put the wine back in the fridge and walk past Dahyun, barely getting far as she swipes the phone out your hand and pins you to a nearby cabinet - lips crashing against yours, hard.
Her taste is infectious, parting your lips wider by the second. Mixed with the cold wine and the iced tea along with the fading hints of her lavender mint perfume Dahyun would spray on occasions - it’s not worth fighting against at all, she’s throwing her body onto you; the sweet rush burning from within, bending the will to her and the urge to do the same keeps growing and growing, holding the small of her back while the phone’s cast aside.
The line’s still ringing. She could hear it too, and you’re starting to worry if the call goes to voicemail, slipping a finger or two underneath Dahyun’s jaw and tip it upwards so you can keep her occupied at her neck. Her chest rises, gut sucking in. “For the love of god, Momo, please don’t pick this up,” you murmur, keeping a close eye on the screen while you’re forcing Dahyun to the counter.
Like Dahyun, it seems the universe is against you, because Momo’s lower voice comes over the line in that instant. “Hey, you don’t usually call at this hour. What’s up?”
Dahyun snatches the phone and you’re left clasping the empty hand, wincing, puffing one side of your cheek. She examines the contact name before flashing a look, answering with a soft sing-song tone. “Momo! Hi!”
“Don’t say anything to give it away,” you order. Both hands are on her hips, lifting her up funnily where her feet barely touch the floor, knees touching yours and filling the space in the middle. You could feel the rising heat from her shorts and she won’t deny needing this.
Even in the faces too - close to the point where your cheeks are grazing when Momo says, “Uh, is everything good?” and you can hear the casual innocence with some of the sexual implication laced in the words. You’re saving the trouble with her for another day; for now, you’re just gonna slide your hands up Dahyun’s thighs and beneath her sweater.
“No, no, yeah, I’m okay, I-” Dahyun’s breath stops when your mouth’s pressed open to her neck, and down her collarbone. “Didn’t manage to find my phone in time so I used-”
“Your hubby’s phone instead?”
“Pretty much, yeah.”
Welp, as if things couldn’t be less serious. Two of your flings are keeping it light with the exchanges. Dahyun looks back at you, a wicked smile emerging. “Girl, what is it with you this time?” Momo’s voice asks, “I swear if it’s about the incident with the dogs-”
“Stop it, now,” you say, and Dahyun shakes her head no with a tempting pout of her lips. As if you’re not slipping off her (your) sweater, for god’s sake. You let your hand skate upward to the clasp of her bra, having it come undone and bring your fingers back around to her small breasts and not do anything about thumbing her nipples in a circular motion and her breathing gets to an irregular rate. Momo’s spilling off into a string of apologies and what Boo and Dooby did to poor Ari to the point where your mouth’s back to the mouthpiece and centimeters off Dahyn’s mouth, whispering: “Hang. The fuck. Up.”
Dahyun glares at you with kneaded brows and it causes a snap in the nerves, bucking back into her.
Really? At a time like this? You shouldn’t be one to test me.
That alone is rewarded with a look of astonishment across her face. Momo on the opposite end of the line sighs to unknowingly make her presence and this girl’s timing is intentionally tragic. “Sorry, didn’t mean to get ahead of myself. Say, did you want me to drop by sometime tomorrow?”
Right when Momo asks that, Dahyun fails to answer since she’s burning lasers directly into your eyes. You’ve got a handful of her breast and the other digging in the waistband of her shorts, aware of the fact that you’re both married to each other and she’s on the phone with one of her best friends who fucked around too much and it’s defiant to the vows; but that’s a one time thing, right?
Dahyun simply just says: “You can. I don’t have anything in the afternoon. Feel free to swing by after lunch,” and she doesn’t falter her gaze at all. She’s winning. Saving the relationship. Not even the headlines or the blade to your heart could ever compare.
You hope it never comes to that.
“Alright. It’s settled then. I’ll see you at your place later,” says Momo on the phone.
“See you soon.” Dahyun replies.
The call goes dead soon after.
Dahyun holds the phone between your faces, staring at you with the endless void past those eyes. You’ve got the green light - the go ahead, you really should, and enticingly could, in the next few seconds, make her feel like the only thing that mattered before she even has a chance to change her mind. A fucking insanity it is to have the thought of asking if she’s okay with this because someone’s gotta play the nice guy here. Silence fills the air with the quiet exhales and the returning beep of the smoke detector down the hall.
“So now you want this?” You remark, hands right where they are - where they’re supposed to be.
Dahyun’s throat bobs. Her eyes flick from your mouth to your eyes and to her body, seeing nothing else but your hair when she feels the lips touch her sweet skin. To be meticulous and not cut the wrong wire is extremely, extremely difficult. The pale shade she carries is warm and soft and you can feel the gentle bump of her heart on your hands and face. Your foot is slipping across the hardwood. All she does is breath carefully and you feel it hit your jaw.
The worst thing she could do is say no. You’re more unsure of not being clear enough and she’ll probably forget it in the next few minutes. That undeclared authority, the unspoken ownership of each other, anything goes if one makes the move first. As much as you’d love to slip your hand beneath her shorts, (if you hadn’t done so already) she has to want it also. So you sigh and tip her forehead to yours. “Dahyun, I need to hear it. How much you want it.”
Her face freezes, holding herself best she could, tilting her head back as she places the phone flat on the counter. It’s bleak, incoherent: “Oh, you have no idea.”
(As if she couldn’t have made it more clearer.)
You pick up right where it’s left off - without the overbearing tension - clutching her sides as she wraps her arms around your neck, flushing her hips with yours. She’s gripping the ends of your hair and keeps kissing while you’re marking up her neck; a power move in stripping her to nothing, and the both of you know it well, picking up the slack where the other leaves. Her hand goes astray, slipping to the phone.
“Don’t even think about it,” you rasp against Dahyun’s mouth, pulling her lower lip.
“Wanna find out what happens if Momo got a facetime call just now?” She mumbles back, grinning.
You feel her hand hook your nape, pressing a thumb down the crease of her thigh with a little more force. “Momo can go fuck herself.”
“Momo managed to get herself fucked by you, didn’t she?”
She giggles while you inhale a sharp sound, fingers curling around the waistband of her shorts and revealing the white ends of her panties. “Save the bullshit for later.”
“Later?” Dahyun’s taunting is one to go up against, when the jealousy is strong enough to be forced back around. Her version of karma. “Why don’t you tell me all the things you did-”
Your fingers graze the fabric, lock eyes with hers. “Dahyun. You wouldn’t fucking call her again. I dare you.”
“Or what-”
Dahyun fixes her gaze when your hand slips out of her shorts, dragging her shorts and white laced panties to the floor. “I suggest you find something to hold. Quick.”
“Hold as in what-”
You spread her thighs open. Okay, maybe this is a little bit rushed. Maybe you should’ve done more of the kissing, the teasing, lay a few more red marks on the plush thighs before ghosting your breath over the exposed flesh in between and put her over your shoulder to the bedroom to show what she signed up for. Instead, your mouth’s been good in this predicament, and the patience can keep you at bay for so long; you lean in with your arm at her leg and just focus on the girl in your hands.
Better than stainless steel. She tastes salty and sweet. You can imagine what it’ll be like when you get to the sticky part.
Dahyun exhales next to you, glancing over to see that she’s kept her eyes up to the air and not doing much to close her mouth. She’s doing that awe expression when one of her costars does something stupid, and it’s not the ideal look you were expecting, shifting your weight a little more forcefully her lower half bucks at the touch. You pinch her hip and lightly tap her clit. “Oh fuck- okay,” gasps Dahyun. Her hand goes lazy and moves the phone off the obsidian and grasps where she can - the shoulders, the back, all the same.
That’s enough to pause for a second and grin wickedly, pupils blown. “Look what happens when you don’t listen.”
“Fuck off.” Dahyun manages, pulling you in at the nape. “Are you gonna keep talking or are you- ah-”
While you’re traversing down a familiar path, in her sensitive areas and remembering the form of her lips on yours, you hold her steady, two fingers inching at the opening. She curses, nails carving up skin, and there’s a light slap of skin to hard surface, clutching to the counter. She’s melting in your arms and the sounds are turning your synapses to mush. You were expecting her to be more adamant, more desperate to make you stay; though, it doesn’t take much for you - no more than ten minutes and you’ve got it all sorted. Either that, or- you know her well enough to fix her up without asking.
If anything it’s the solution she’s been searching for, the same desperation for you to tear her insides and instill the lost belief. Even if it meant for Momo to play a role in commensurating. For Momo to steer you away from the light for just a small moment.
Maybe all of this was the point of it all.
Dahyun stops you with both hands on your chest, catching her breath, staring down your palm flat to her waist. “Momo had no idea what she was getting herself into,” you say, “But she knew what she was doing.”
She looks at you quizzical. “That woman has plans of her own.”
You kneel down to kiss her leaking cunt, earning a heel to the shoulder blade. Soothing the sudden sensation with a lick of her crease at the thigh, keeping your eyes level. “God knows we’re playing her game instead.”
“As if,” breathes Dahyun, and lightly slaps your face. But that doesn’t stop you from going at her neck. “Keep the ‘what if’s’ all you want. Don’t you dare leave me like this.”
“Who said I’d hold back on you?”
So you’re leaning back in, deeper. Meet her mouth and slot your tongue to her lips and get your fingers warm again. “You knew I had an eye on Momo ever since that time. And it seems like she had the same thought,” you proclaim.
Her knee grazes your side and her foot wraps to your ass. “What if I were to go to Momo the next time around? What then?”
“You wouldn’t, Dahyun,” you grumble, sliding your fingers out and swiping them on the inside of her thigh. “Why don’t we find out if the roles are reversed.”
“Start with me first,” she demands.
“With pleasure,” you relent, and you’re yanking her from the small of her back, stabilizing herself with the foot to your posterior. The grip to your neck, into the defined muscle, and she’ll keep on holding on for dear life if the bruises are meant to stay for eternity. You want her to reciprocate the wanting, let her mark you for the keepsake. “You’re gonna owe me for this once it’s over - when I can make you cum like she can’t replicate-”
“Healthy competition,” she seethes, and her whole body tenses when you let her flat on the counter to tend the wet lines on her legs. Nibbling gently; enough to indirectly say that you’ll fall on your knees but still have the power.
“I could go to her tomorrow.” You propose to Dahyun with her foot on your collarbone before slipping past your back, the angle left open for your hand to resume the unfinished work. “Bring up last night, and ask what she did to me that you didn’t have, then tell her the predicament we’re in. I could even bring you along to confess the whole thing. Now that would be interesting.”
This might be a little out of line for your standards. Possessiveness? Toxicity? All the boxes are being ticked off for the times you had to peel Dahyun off from the girls. Sana didn’t take much convincing. Tzuyu is attached to the poor girl’s hip. Nayeon wouldn’t shut up about liking Dahyun’s ass. At the end of the day, she’s yours. No one could ever get her like this and the whole world knows it.
It shouldn’t piss you off this much but it is; you alone knows how dangerous it could be to drop the healthy mindset and let the anger flow into the fucking, but this is Dahyun at her most vulnerable - where she’s burning red and addicting in your mouth, and you’ve kept it calm and lighthearted half the times. And this is one of the many where you’re itching to ruin her.
“What more do I have to do to make you see me, and only me,” she sneers, lost in rapture and her pools of black and her seeping cunt. “This pussy should be enough as it is, no?
“Fuck yes,” you gasp, bitting another open area of skin left unclaimed. “Trust me, I’m getting you there, but if you wanna keep complaining-”
Her back arches and she’s near your heart. “You motherfucker-”
You angle your head for a better view and- aw, pitiful. Fixing her up with the opposite hand to her hip and close to the end of the counter, Dahyun setting herself straight so her face is right in front of yours. “What’s wrong? Gonna cum for me?” You hover over her mouth. Go off the deep end. Fast. Rough. Her teeth almost cut the end of your tongue off. The grip she has in her small hands is steel tight, but her legs aren’t following the same page. “It’s okay, baby,” you coax again, muffling the moan passing through her lips, “relax-”
Almost there. She’s almost there. In the pace of her breaths and clenching of her stomach - the lavender and faint hints of mint fogging your vision and it’s fucking fantastic - there we go, cmon honey, do it, do it, you can’t take much more of this-
Dahyun buries her face into the side of your throat and she does, the whine loud enough tells you how hard as a plus.
The feeling is probably up there in the few times throughout your life: Kim Dahyun squirting and cumming on your fingers, sobbing and sweating and spilling whimpers down your chest as you’re easing her in the motions. You can get her like this again later, fuck the sense out of her brain and body where she can’t function, and your name the only psalm she can recite to convert her ideals.
You’re patting her back and shushing her on the come down, breaths still hot on your collarbone. By the way, you’ve still got your fingers deep inside her, initiating her to pinch your shoulder, shift the hands around to where she’s most comfortable.
Her breathing intertwined with yours joins the creaking of the floorboards beneath, securing her at her ass while her upper body is still at your chest. Still naked and weakly pulling your shirt off, shuffling to the couch to rest from the short trip. Cradling your head with her hair in a worse mess than before, earnestly staring at you so lovingly. The sparkle in your eyes gives a faint smile across her lips and you’re left speechless. It’s hard for you to ignore the tightness in your pants, tapping your fingertips across her skin, and you’re not thinking about Momo as much now.
In the end, it was always going to be Dahyun. You love the idea of claiming her as yours. Making her cum like that before your clothes have even dropped to the floor. It’s an adoration in itself - pressing your lips to hers and to her temple - the many instances of adoring her, all fucked out and barren, resting on you with the trail of clothes back in the kitchen and making an indirect vow that she belongs with you. That alone should be enough to stay with you forever.
So it does. When the tension is finally past the highest. She lifts her head off of you and blinks.
“You made me squirt on my favorite sweater.”
“Oops.” you chuckle.
She could’ve said anything else. Not even the red blotches and bite marks can ever suffice the way she’s back to her straightforward and subtle self. You won’t forget she was on the precipice of killing someone tonight and you just gave her an orgasm as a way of forgiveness but aware enough for it to come bite you back in the ass someday. Whether you’re at each other’s throats or suffocating at the clench or thrust later - it’ll be found out eventually, but all you say is: “For the record, that was my sweater.”
Dahyun fakes a laughing sound. “My bad for dropping your phone.”
“You wanna go there?”
Dahyun then laughs genuinely, her body extending all the loose ends so simply but very delicately. “No, dingus. We’re fine,” she reassures, swinging one leg off and the other and you can’t keep your eyes off of that ass of hers.
You track her pathing through the house barefoot and naked and consciously; picking up the sweater, her shorts, and the panties too - your phone back on the counter and not to be checked for the rest of the night. She slips into the hallway and a few seconds pass, turning the other cheek when she’s in a used soccer jersey.
She leans her shoulder onto the wall and puts her back to the drywall, and you feel suspended in time just staring at each other. Your thumb runs across the four fingertips and run your tongue on the edge of your teeth. Her blush is faded and eyes half-open. Legs defined by the muscle and her hips just meet the end of his shirt, not to mention the waist forming as the cotton’s pulled to the rear. That boner’s still there, too, and manspreading the only method to do right where she left you, she’s definitely seen it before and it’s amazing how she hasn’t mentioned it yet.
Breaking the silence: “I don’t think I can stand up, babe.”
Dahyun sighs, shaking her head and beaming a soft smile. “Were you thinking about me or Momo just now?”
You laugh, because she has it figured out. “If I answered the latter, then my dick would be chopped off.” Besides, it won’t be that long for you to ignore the clothes if she’s keeping her distance with that choice of clothing - especially the fact she definitely has nothing underneath.
It’s on purpose too. She still needs her fix, after all.
There’s a reason she’s not helping you, nor suggesting for you to wash up because there’s a whole lot of mess left to be dealt with. And the thought of not doing anything was also a plausible choice - though that would piss her off even more - Dahyun observes when you finally stand and walk toward her. Watching as the height difference increases the more she tilts her gaze upwards.
Sinning and penance are both routes to take from the shared cause. You either let your head fill with regret, or channel that devotion to someone who’s willing to take it all. That familiar swing of tension is in the air once again. “So, what will it be, sir?”
You lean down and take her lips. Lift her off her feet and have them bracket around your waist. “Seems like I still owe you.”
“Oh really,” she sighs, moaning again when the touches are more desperate, rough. Carrying her through the corridor and into the bedroom, but not until she stops at the walkway. “You think this will be enough for you to stay away from Momo?”
You arch an eyebrow. “It takes more than my decision to make that happen.” It should, you also think, but Dahyun doesn’t expand on that answer.
“Fuck me good till the morning and I’ll leave it up to you,” says Dahyun, and you nod. Her string of laughs and moans growing louder in the bedroom and that’s everything you ever needed.
–
It’s not until much later when you’re staring into space, where the whirr of the espresso machine doubles down on the trance as you try to process the events unfolded in the past couple weeks. The tinge on your lips and the soreness at your cock. Your head spinning in the endless cycle of self-introspection until it’s ended by the vibration of your phone on the counter, left untouched from last night.
A message notification on the screen: still left me out to dry, i see how it is :// <3 🍑
Whether to reply or leave it on read is a personal decision.
Alright - this is kind of one of those cliché, freeze-frame moments from those sitcoms that puts you right in the middle of the action, or- when you wake up with a pounding headache of hangover after having an apocalyptic night out and somehow everything you’re trying to remember is nothing but a complete blank.
Yunjin sells the part right away, groggily after waking up saying: “God, can you believe what the hell happened last night?”
Sadly, you don’t recall it from the get go.
Kazuha’s body curling the pillow serves as the first piece of information at the scene of the crime: your bed.
“She’s gonna give us an earful of this when she's up,” you say. “We’d be lucky if she’s in a good mood by then.”
“There’s nothing to freak out about,” and Yunjin’s reassurance gives you a warming glimmer of hope. “I’ll tell you this. She came to me, first.”
“Are we talking back then or earlier?”
Yunjin slaps your arm, laughing. She’s aware that the inquiry was entirely rhetorical, a minor press to her buttons. Her thumb rubs Kazuha’s temple, moving a few strands of messy hair away from her face. Bright rays of sunlight breaking through the drapes and the evidence is riddled all over her: the marks, the dry streaks of cum at her legs, sweat glistening across her skin. Your mental checklist is filling up by the minute.
“To be fair,” and it’s a realization to be made: “She did ask for this.”
“Yes," Concurs Yunjin. "Yes she did.”
–
Let’s summarize it like this: post-grad life is absolutely no joke.
Your realization of this has been deeply humbling.
And you’re reminded, again - from one of your friends who’s on the same boat as you: taking things day by day is always the way to go, don’t ever forget that.
It sounds easier said than done.
The lovely chime of the lock popping out from its hole plays a nice tune of pomp and circumstance, your humble abode of trinkets and gadgets and items greeting you a ‘welcome home!’ after a long day of work. It’s worth noting: you’re not actually working - not yet, but the job search in the pool has been quite dry.
You sigh, get your shoes off at the doorstep, and toss your jacket on the nearby chair you lay your eyes on.
When you finally hobble over to the couch, Yunjin appears right on cue; half hair up, half down, fresh out of the shower and in one of your shirts. You know her schedule by heart: the day was Thursday, which meant that she was out for a pickleball run with Somi and Giselle who convinced her to give the sport a try. She had some prior experience with tennis, so most of the skills easily transferred over. Talk about being multi-talented.
“Hey,” she greets, tapping your thigh as a signal to give her some space on the seat. “Long day today?
“Yeah,” you say, rubbing the sleepiness off your face and graze your thumb on the top of Yunjin’s thigh. “Nothing much to report- oh. I managed to get a callback from that one place I told you about last week.”
“The start up Sian’s working in? Any good news?” Her voice lights up in excitement, brows elevated and head at an angle like a golden retriever. “I thought that place was only fifth in your options.”
“It was, but figured that I’d work backwards on the list from bottom to top.”
Yunjin smirks, nails to your knuckles, tic bouncing off her tongue, agreeing. “What an innovator.”
“A different angle,” you laugh, “Worth giving it a try.”
“We all have to start somewhere,” she tells you, voice light-hearted and calming. “Besides, life isn’t a linear graph that one follows. Everybody has their ups and downs they don’t want to admit.”
She does have a point, so you nod.
“Don’t be discouraged if there’s no results right away,” she adds on, lifting her hand up for you to momentarily give you a handshake as if she was your brother or something, curling your fingers with hers before ending it off with the pull down, gently slapping your cheek to force a smile out of you. Yunjin’s got all the remedies you can ask to boost your mood up, no point arguing otherwise. “You also said that you didn’t like the one other place second on your list.”
“That cafe would be nice. Can finally cross off how to make the perfect matcha drink, too,” you reply, sitting up and sliding your arm across her waist, bringing her closer.
“Mhm,” she hums, smiling the more she leans into your touch. If there was anything that you know very well to do: is how easily it is for her to let these things slide - more so like you can literally sweep her off her feet and suck the life out of her, without having the guilt lingering whatsoever. She’s so agonizingly pretty in your eyes and the fact she can say some of the coolest things in her perspective about life because she realizes that it cuts both ways. You could listen to her talk smart all day, until she plays into the dirty ditz where it gets closer to one familiar end far faster than you would like to admit. “I’ll say this compliment, then: you already have the best cup of coffee in town,” Yunjin says, a smirk with a chin lifted up and your tongue pressing the inner side of your lip. Her gaze goes hazy, and the half-lidded eyes coming from you really sends the message either way. “I actually like the whole package you’re selling. It’s sweet.”
“You think of me as sweet? I guess so too.”
“That’s not the only thing sweet about you,” says Yunjin, palming your crotch and scratches the fabric, her breath at your teeth. “You’re dangerous.”
“Jen, what are you trying,” you chuckle, slow and low; the tone like you’re wanting to find something without putting too much force into suspicion. “Need I remind you that you were almost late to practice earlier?”
As Yunjin bites her lip at the lean in, only to be interrupted by the same chime at the door. A second later, the sound gets replaced by another girl’s huff, keys jangling and boots clattering on the floor before making their way further into the apartment. Both of you look towards her direction out of curiosity.
“Back already, Zuha?” Yunjin asks, leaning out more to the point she’s almost perpendicular to the seat of the couch, “How’d the hair appointment go?”
“Good!” Kazuha beams, shrugging off her handbag and straightening her denim jacket outshined by her new color of hair - she mentioned it in the group chat between you three with a picture of her head wrapped up in tinfoil, so the input paid off. “Thought it would take longer, but I really like this shade much more than the blonde I had a year ago.”
“Oh god,” you breathe, “I can’t stress how much I hated the blonde shade back then.”
Kazuha’s brows crinkle, lips inward. She doesn’t want to admit it herself, but she did say her blonde hair wasn’t the right choice. “Dickhead. I thought I told you to take that opinion outside.”
“I’m not going to apologize for saying what’s right.”
“Guess I don’t have to ask you what you think about my hair and go directly to Yunjin instead.”
“Ash blonde is more of your style, Kazuha,” you admit, Yunjin also agreeing with a little nod of her own. “If you were to ask me, I’d prefer this one over the blonde you had from last year.”
“He does have a valid reason,” Yunjin adds, palm to your chest when she stands up from the couch with a water bottle in her hand from the table. Tosses it towards Kazuha who catches it without an issue. “You staying in or stopping by tonight?”
Kazuha chugs half the bottle down, smacks her lips soon after. “Got an hour to chill, told Saku and Chaewon we’re eating out tonight. Since Sakura’s boytoy leaves tomorrow to-”
“Study abroad,” you input, “I remember she was talking to me about him a few weeks ago.”
“So no more dick for me or her,” Kazuha says.
“You’re serious,” you say back. “Dude.”
Kazuha twists her face, hands wrapped tighter around the plastic. “Dude. It is serious. A total loss for the home team.”
“He wasn’t even your boyfriend to begin with.” Yunjin butts in, almost ad-libbed.
“That’s what makes it fun!”
“This girl can’t be helped,” Yunjin, shifting her attention to the cutting board of chicken and vegetables. “Sucks for her to be put out of commission all because she can’t get her pussy filled up this weekend.”
“I heard that, bitch.” Kazuha yells deep in the hallway. “Why don’t you tell Chaewon while you’re at it too with her boyfriend.”
You laugh at the annoyance Kazuha has in her voice. Yunjin rolls her eyes and wheels around in the kitchen. The pair part ways into doing their own activities around the place and that’s really the end of that. There’s a sense of comfort you find yourself in within these walls. When the world outside you doesn’t swing the way you want it to, it’s always nice to lay back and relax - save the problems of today to tomorrow. You lace your fingers together, put them over your waist and cross your ankles up to the armrest, closing your eyes.
“I’ll be here,” you’re saying aloud, a usual announcement during these hours: “Wake me up when the food’s ready, or if Kazuha leaves, whichever happens to come first.”
–
Among the never ending loop of emails, interviews, and outings at different food spots to brush up the resume, you’re getting sick and tired of the daily activities as a whole. You’re doubtful, like a running inside joke you’re not in on.
You tell Yunjin about the struggles, to which she tells you: “there’s no such thing as mistakes in a plan that’s meant for you, babe.” God bless her, the literary ability this woman has reminds you again as to why she wanted to be an english teacher or writer. Hell, philosophy might’ve been her forte, but it’s another debate topic to save for later.
Kazuha’s outlook is a bit more abrasive; more real and a little less innocent, doesn’t mince her words at all. “Look, I know we give much shit between us at times,” she blurts out on a random afternoon, “but I think those people who do the hiring don’t know what you’re capable of yet, and it angers me about them not caring about you.”
“Didn’t think you’d have the heart to say that to my face.”
Kazuha squints, confused. Yunjin looks up from her book, eavesdropping.
“If we’re being honest,” Kazuha continues with a wave of her hand. “this is basically like you getting me through college apps back in senior year, me having the breakdowns on a nightly basis because you shat on my essays being complete trash-”
“Somewhat relevant, yes. Still isn’t as close to what I feel.”
Ever since graduation (and even before then), the pair have gotten used to each other in no time flat. Yunjin eventually had to end the lease on her apartment at the beginning of summer and it was a no brainer when you popped the question of moving in. They both have similar tastes, similar styles - the list goes on and on. But hey: two of the hottest girls on campus are living with you and every time someone brings it up you just give them a shrug.
(The non-verbal message presents itself like it’s no big deal.
Or one quiet way of answering: ‘fuck you, stay out of my business’.)
Yujin closes her book and treats herself to the cup of tea on the table. “It’s pretty much a similar experience across the board, no need to overcomplicate it.”
You check your phone with the same kind of energy in receiving a text. Quick skim here, no luck. “Whoopty-fucking-do, still no message back from Minnie about the software position.”
“No stress babe, it’s Friday night after all.”
“I’d text her personally to see if there’s any hold up, rush the process a bit.” Kazuha suggests.
You pull your lip. “I could, but what do you want me to do? It’s not my fault that the job market and economy as a whole is in shambles, toying with the idea of teasing me like it’s some ‘will they, won’t they’ kind of situation. But seriously-” and here your hands are in your face in a small sign of frustration, “it’s a bit discouraging on the latter when I could be spending my time on-”
“Pressure isn’t a good look on you,” Kazuha tuts, snorting. She reclines back on the seat, sliding her heels on the floor, “I’m sure someone will swoop you on their ship sooner or later. The strategy here is just sit and wait, taking into account the number of places you dropped by today and they can’t look at the CV the moment you hand it to them. Ever heard the saying: “Rome wasn’t built in a day?”
“Classic for the kids.” Yunjin recites, hands bracing her chin. “Patience is always the everlasting virtue.”
“Both of you are dead last in lecturing me about practicing a positive mindset.”
Here they laugh in midst of deliberation. Because Yunjin’s shaking her head while Kazuha’s turning her attention away to something that isn’t on you. The heat starts to rise on your face in embarrassment. Yunjin’s gaze lowers on Kazuha as she crosses her arms, fingers tapping along the opposite limb, sharing the same look before she looks over to you once again. Silence fills the table for a moment until Kazuha’s phone vibrates on the table, prompting her to swipe it off the surface and check the notifications in mere milliseconds.
Kazuha’s eyes briskly shimmers from the screen, face lighting up once she’s finished reading. “Oh shit,” she breathes. “I forgot I was going out with Sakura tonight.”
“Where to this time?”
“Eunchae’s,” she answers, briskly standing up and typing her life away. “Just a quick outing, doughnut run, nothing too big. Yunjin, you still coming?”
“Can’t.” Yunjin yawns. “Tired and plus I had a movie date planned with this one,” she says with a head bob towards you.
“Ew- gross,” Kazuha mutters. You look at her dumbfounded while Yunjin smirks. “Whatever, enjoy your impromptu movie date.”
“Prayers up for the dick that’s about to cross paths with you,” you remark over your shoulder. “Whoever’s the lucky one to bend you over tonight, I’ll drink to that too.”
Kazuha smacks your head then walks away. “I’ll take that same fucking bottle when I come back and smash it over your head.”
“Ouch.” Yunjin sighs, putting on her glasses and stretching. “I’ve been telling you it’s a lost cause for her.”
“Hey. That’s her problem, not mine.”
–
Kazuha’s problems, whether you like it or not, usually end up becoming yours.
Not that it’s her fault or anything. The girl just spills out one word and it turns into a never ending ramble of sentences.
Fifteen minutes have passed since dinner, for the ones who are curious - fifteen minutes of valuable time lost in Kazuha’s eyes because she can’t seem to get her life together when it comes to proper efficiency. You and Yunjin are bundled up on the couch, watching some dating series on netflix that’s been all the rage across social media. The cast upon preliminary assessment are all attractive - some with a stronger bias than others, but you deduced Yunjin’s opinion was much more important than what’s happening on screen.
Self-insertion is a matter of conceptual perspective, is what she’s trying to tell you.
“All I’m saying is-” she groans after your pitiful laugh, “we put ourselves in that scenario, and I guarantee the ratings would go up.”
“Pretty high pedestal you’re putting me there,” you comment.
Yunjin slaps your shoulder and gawks at you, playfully offended. “Oh please, if you didn’t take me to paradise, how else would you make your case compared to the other good looking guys?”
“Don’t need to, since I’ve already got you.”
She coos at the remark, laughing at you playing it off in the coolest way imaginable. It’s cringy, but who the fuck cares? The fact that she agrees with the statement only solidifies the pull you have on her. A win-win situation.
“What about Kazuha?” Yunjin follows up shortly after. “I think she’d be a great fit there.”
“If I were one of the guys on that show and she was one of the contestants, I’d try everything to date her in a heartbeat,” you tell her.
“Really?”
“Really.”
“Really what?” Kazuha walks in a second after your reply, with a zip-up to her frame and peeping over to see what was on the screen. “I heard my name down the hallway.”
“Oh nothing, Zu,” answers Yunjin, waving her hand to shoo her off. “We were just saying that you’d be a great addition to the dating show cast. I can’t lie, some of the guys in this are super hot.”
“Ahem,” you cough.
“Shut up,” Yunjin says. “You were literally just telling me that you’d date Kazuha if you had the chance.”
“Never in a million years,” you hear Kazuha say, disgusted. “That can of worms stays shut for a reason.”
“A fun topic to talk about,” you’re laughing out loud again, shaking your head. Kazuha squints her eyes and her lips are spread wide in annoyance. A common expression she does whenever she can’t comprehend the bullshit coming out of your mouth at times - for most occasions is all sarcasm and nothing more. “You may not like it, but who’s living with who here, hm?”
“I’ll kick your ass again if I have to,” Kazuha chuckles - a tilt of her head to keep it subtle, but you know well she intends that.
you say
“Can’t beat my ass if you haven’t gone out yet,” you retort, pursing your lips. Kazuha glances at the clock and realizes what time it was, cursing under her breath. She shoves a hand in her pocket and bolts for the door, throwing up a peace sign to you and Yunjin, letting you both know she’s finally on her way out.
“Bye Zuha, have fun!” Yunjin yells in a light tone.
“Don’t burn the place down until I get back, but the noise complaints are fine,” Kazuha says, slotting herself through the door the next second, into the cold.
–
“That girl with the dark blonde hair looks like Kazuha,” Yunjin tells you, pointing at the screen. She’s right. The one on the show appears to be at the right height, similar body build, not to mention the abs highlighted from her swimsuit. “I’m telling you, it’s a carbon copy.”
It’s been a little over an hour since Kazuha left, maybe more - you haven’t been keeping track, really. The episodes and runtimes are starting to mesh together to the point where Yunjin’s starting to get other ideas with that mischievous hand of hers, working at your shorts.
“She’s hella popular with the others - so you might be right, considering Kazuha’s the mix of an extroverted introvert,” you say, paying no attention to the slip of Yunjin’s hand into your boxers, fingers snaking the length. She can feel you getting hard.
You’re on the same wavelength as Yunjin: hand trailing up her thigh, thumb and index pinching the waistband of her panties beneath the blanket before curling your fingers across the fabric, hearing a hitched breath.
“There’s no way they don’t hook up while recording, right? Like- the fuckable scales are off the charts,” she assesses, squirming her hips to the fingers circling over her clothed clit. She cocks her head as you pull your lips inward, trying to see the transmitting message in her eyes.
You press a little further in at the opening, feel the dampness spread across. Oh yeah, she’s soaking them.
“We wouldn’t know, per se, since the whole point of inferno is all about exclusivity. Getting to know the person without any outside distractions, that kind of thing,” you conclude. You’re paying more attention to your hand than the show.
“Them having sex on camera would be so normal,” Yunjin says, a word slips out but her mouth forms to something else when you slip a finger inside without a warning. “So normal.”
“You’d be right.”
“Definitely,” she breathes and it’s heavy. This segment has been slowly building in the background; the part where few words are said and relied more on the action: Yunjin’s thumb presses down on the head of your cock and grips around it, languidly stroking; your breathing stops for a moment, bobbing the air down your throat, coming up with a proper response, ending with nothing. You can feel your lower body tense and relax with the ticks of the clock, an indicator for what’s about to happen if you keep this up. You don’t fight it - nor want to, since you’re both well aware that the teasing is a better way to eat up the time with your bodies rather than everything else.
It’s only natural to do things like these. You’d always make time for being horny.
Before you know it, your shorts are on the floor. The same could be said with her panties, tossed away to a corner in the room for you to ask yourself “well how the fuck did that get there?” later when the damage has been done. Her shirt’s being held up by her teeth and you’re taking all the sights of her upper half uncovered past her shirt. Nothing but porcelain skin and amber nipples waiting to be marked up and bitten. Your hips get put in place and your mouth is taken over by Yunjin’s, feeling the glide of her folds across your cock and the slickness of her cunt on your fingers, smearing her thigh.
Her breath is warm, just like her face; mouth hung open when she settles her pussy on your shaft. She finds joy in the loose and unraveling expressions: all wide-eyed and nowhere else to go. Your head falls back once the grip registers in the nerves.
All in the rise and fall of her hips. She’s gyrating them as a test like it’s a given - which it is. She loves it when you’re raring to go, dicking her hips down or fucking herself on your cock. It’s all the same.
“Babe,” she whispers into your ear. The blanket uncovering your lower halves, barren skin now out to the open air. “I want it.”
Fuck, she could meet you halfway with the wetness of her pussy and already be there. You hold her hips and waist steady and she begins to ride.
–
Here is where the story - or rather, the ordeal - truly unravels. As Anakin Skywalker famously declares on the glowing screen before the darkened room: ‘This is where the fun begins.’
You’re woken up to the incessant buzzing of your phone on the nightstand, blinded by the glare of the television, drowsy as fuck, and slightly sweating. You also don’t even bother looking at the time because your lock screen is basically a flashbang of your selfie with Yunjin even with the caller ID blurring it. It’s from an unknown number (it isn’t but you can barely see as it is) and even if you’re entertaining the idea of not answering it, you do anyway.
“Hello?” Your voice graveled and deep, clearly tired. “Who is this?”
“Oh, you’re Yunjin’s boyfriend, right?” The girl on the other end asks. Her voice is surprisingly masculine. You would’ve mistaken her for a guy in that case. The line goes quiet for a few seconds, afraid that she possibly called the wrong number. “You sound like Yunjin’s boyfriend. By the way, it’s Eunchae.”
Crap, you remember that Kazuha was with her for tonight’s activities. Wondering what the hell happened this time for her to call instead of Sakura as the usual standby.
“We have a situation here,” she continues, mouth ticked with a hint of annoyance. “Kazuha’s hammered and Sakura’s getting her business on with some guy out in the alleyway. Told me to call you if she didn’t come back in five minutes. And it’s been more than five minutes.”
“Shit, I didn’t think it’d be that serious.”
“The fuck were you expecting?”
“I dunno- just a simple doughnut dine and dash? Neither of them told me about a party.”
“That’s because the two of them tagged along with the guy they met there and it’s been downhill ever since. I wanna go home.”
Can’t help but feel bad for Eunchae, since you were in her shoes before.
“Mind hurrying it up a bit? I can hear Sakura’s moaning behind me and it’s looking like she won’t be going home tonight.”
You scratch the back of your head, raking off the sleepiness before rubbing your eyes. “Alright, be there in a few. Where do you want to meet?”
“I’ll send my location, my house isn’t far from here.”
–
In a slight reiteration, you’ve become used to Kazuha’s antics.
Kazuha brings in Sakura and her plus one late at night, you know how that goes; Kazuha can’t decide which top goes well with her loose pants for the grocery run; Kazuha procrastinates on some of the chores around the apartment and leaves you alone to pick up her slack. She smacks your ass for fun and runs away into her room - goes to show the years of friendship you have between you two. When you’re up late studying for midterms or finals, the noise cancelling headphones serve well to block out the sounds of Kazuha touching herself -or, the fact that you’re putting her pile of laundry on her bed and it’s riddled with the assortment of playboy magazines, dirty clothes, and the vibrator (which you don’t question) next to it. She’s an agent of chaos. A perfect anthesis to your very livelihood.
It’s certainly no exception when you mentally add alcohol into the mix.
“Do I want to know how she ended up like this?” You ask Eunchae upon arriving, kneeling down to a slumped Kazuha against the brickwall on the sidewalk - hand to the back of her head to get a better look of her drunk gaze: one eye open and giggling like an idiot, her words slurring.
“She literally grabbed the first beer handed to her when we got here,” Eunchae replies, showing you a picture of the moments before disaster. “I thought she was a heavy weight.”
“Depends on what they were passing out in that party.” You move Kazuha’s head around to ensure nothing happened to her. So far: face blushed with pink, a lazy eye, messy hair and sweaty skin. But most importantly: no marks. “Did Saki tell you to stick with her while at the party?”
“Yes, she did.”
“Well that’s the good news,” you’re saying to yourself. Kazuha might be a pain in your ass, but she is your longtime friend, after all. Like anyone else, you’d go the extra mile to keep an eye out for her.
You then glance back at Eunchae, her shadow casted by the glare of the overhanging streetlight, arms crossed with the light tap of her foot. Her thumb subconsciously swipes the phone screen as you both look at Kazuha when she snorts, playfully hitting your arm.
“She’ll be fine,” you softly say, hoisting Kazuha’s arms over your shoulders and adjusting her on your back. “Given the fact that Sakura’s getting her fuck-fix for the weekend, I’ll leave that be.”
“Mhm, girl’s a piece of work,” Eunchae concurs, lashes fluttering in the dim lighting, air to the left side of her cheek. “And here I thought we were getting our box and heading back home but-” she then motions a hand to Kazuha murmuring behind you. “-this shit unfolded and, yeah.”
“The regular stuff,” you admit, because it really is. You twitch your head the opposite way from the house party. “My car’s this way, I’ll drop you off on the way back.”
–
(Dealing with a drunk Kazuha in the car was simple math:
Make sure she’s comfy, for one. Recline the seat all the way back since her feet will most likely end up on the dashboard for another. And almost beating every red light at the intersections so that she doesn’t get cranky with all the stops and turns for the third note.
A long list and every contingency written in the book: you know her that well.)
–
3:00 in the morning is usually classified as ‘primetime hours’ for Kazuha.
Except for tonight.
You’re running through the standard procedure: get out the car, walk up the stairs, hook a right, second door past the balcony.
Left shoulder, right shoulder, right foot up, then left; fix Kazuha’s weight on your backside so you don’t throw your back out early, lean a little too forward she’ll fall right off, look back when she’s secure.
For a girl like her to be 5’7” and 105 pounds, it doesn’t add everything up in your head. She’s humming a song - the lyrics incoherent, tone consistent - then all of a sudden she yelps in surprise. Keep her quiet - a fifth noise complaint from the neighbors in the span of three days was not on the agenda for this week.
She smacks your head, half awake. “Hey, how did I get home? Put me down.” Kazuha pushes herself off, landing on her feet with a stumble, prompting you to hover your hand to her waist so that she doesn’t lose balance. It’s 3 in the fucking morning and Kazuha’s drunk out of her goddamn mind. “Wait, when did you get here?”
“I drove us,” you tell her, moving her arm over your shoulder and walking her towards the door. “Looks like you had fun tonight.”
“I did,” Kazuha hiccups, blinking slowly. “Super fun time.” Her gaze freezes. You can’t tell if she’s grumpy or plain tired (trick question: it’s the second answer); she then closes her eyes with that neat, flat eye smile of hers to where you see the slightest dimple on her face. You could imagine the stars shimmering over her head. Kazuha has so many spirit animals that you could pair her up with, but if you had to choose one-
“Ehe-” she giggles, staggering her right foot before readjusting her balance, doing the same laugh again.
(She would definitely be a samoyed.)
So you stifle a laugh and close your mouth, opening the door.
You’re leading the way back into the apartment while Kazuha tries to walk on her own. She fails. Her forearm bracing the doorway while you shift your body back around out of concern. Her body lurches forward like she just went twelve rounds in a boxing ring, fatigued. She straightens herself up with a hand on top of her head, chin tilted higher when she leans forward, about to fall. Like any other caring friend would do in this situation: you catch her.
“Easy, easy.” You hold yourself steady, accepting the weight. Or- when you’re stumbling too and shuffle your feet for proper placement. “You said you didn’t drink that much, tell me the truth.”
Kazuha hums, mindlessly bobbing her head in the form of a yes.
Her gaze is sleepy. Both of your hands are at her shoulders, keeping her upright. Kazuha’s zip-up slips off her shoulder, exposing her collarbone, covering the tubetop she was wearing with a set of underwear you haven’t seen before. Probably new, you assume. “Kazuha, stand up straight for me, please?”
“Mmkay,” she slurs.
“Think you can walk back to your room by yourself?”
“Nope.” Kazuha beams with her head to the left.
You sigh. Pat the side of her face to wake her up a bit. “Guess you can’t be helped.” A hand’s extended like a peace offering. “C’mere, I’ll take you there right now.”
“If you take good care, I’ll let you fuck me.”
Oh, hell no-
You weren’t prepared for this kind of Kazuha at all. There was no plan. Not even a proper response in your head could cover for it.
Kazuha being drunk was always the marker for attention. Put her with the right people (like Sakura, Chaewon, even fucking Yunjin), and it’s guaranteed to be a never ending stream of laughs throughout the day and into the night. Not one second goes by when you’re out with friends to look over the shoulder and see the most questionable acts coming from her that twists the creases across your face and forces you to bear no mind to what’s happening behind you; stay focused now, ask questions later. When you do bring up the topic, it gets brushed over and eventually ignored. You have so many ‘why’s’ as it is, but you find it best to save it for the morning.
“Kazuha, you’re clapped. There’s no way you just asked me to-”
“But I’ll be good for you. C’mon, don’t you think I should repay you in some way?”
“You getting sleep right now will be good for me. Now let’s go, I’m tired as it is-”
Her arms wrap around your shoulder and middle lazily. You can’t afford to handle another minute of this nonsense and just get your ass back to bed. That alone should be a right in itself, but this girl won’t fucking let go.
Next thing you know, her lips graze the bottom of your neck before resting on your collarbone. Your name is heard into your shirt, and you huff in annoyance. Plus, your voices could be a little louder than usual since Yunjin’s a heavy sleeper. At this point, you’ve had enough: so you slip your fingers into Kazuha’s hair and yank her head back to see her face wince at the sudden pain. There’s no shame when you see her biting her lip, half-lidded eyes gazing with no care of the lust behind them. “Just help me to my room, I promise not to give you trouble. I owe you. Need to thank,” she mumbles, licking her lips. “I’ll be a good girl.”
“Christ- Kazuha, we’re not doing this.” But talking to her while she’s intoxicated isn’t going to do you any good.
Now you carry on, dragging her closer to the room, ignoring the assault of mindless kisses she’s placing all over your neck. She ups the ante when her hand palms your sweats, trying to play it off in standing upright.
“Jesus- Kazuha,” you angrily swear, similar to all the times she pissed you off.
“What? You don’t like that?” Kazuha asks, lips parted when she rests her fingers at your crotch.
“Fucks sake, no.”
“Aw come onnnn,’ she whines, trilling the last bit of the words. “Yunjin always has her fun, why can’t I?”
“Because I said no.”
“You won’t even let me suck you off? What if I just wanna stay here and sit so I can do that?”
You can’t stand her being like this.
“I always hear you and Yunjin getting it on in your room.” She leans on the wall next to the open door, curling her hand around your arm while the other doesn’t move. “How would it feel if I called you daddy again for once?”
The scrunch in your nose shuts down the thought immediately. You’re sensible enough to not entertain the idea, despite how tempting it is. No. You know better. You know damn well what that shit does to you even if it slapped you in the face. No one casually spills the word ‘daddy’ like it’s nothing and expect no reaction. Her mind’s swimming in alcohol. You’re starting to wonder what the hell she drank at that party.
“Again- God. Zuha.” You flicker your eyes into the void of the hallway. The nickname only comes up at times where she’s really getting on your nerves. “For the last time, you are getting your ass to bed and we’ll talk about it in the morning.” Kazuha winces at the sharp tone, realizing she’s overstepped her bounds. Bless the last bits of common sense she has left; you don’t know where you’d be if she didn’t use her brain cells for something else that required her to think.
“Ugh, fine,” she tells you, and the tamped down ego in your head is satisfied in victory, stepping into her room. You hold her at the arms and help slip out of her jacket, tossing it on her chair as she does her part in sitting on the bed, waiting for you to lie her down. “I was hoping that you could fuck me.”
“In your dreams,” you rebut firmly.
Right before you walk away, Kazuha grabs your wrist. A few wisps of her hair fall over her forehead. “Wait,” she says, and that should’ve been the red flag to swipe your hand away from the imposing threat - a dangerous risk you’re not willing to take. You clench your teeth and swallow hard, with the slightest bit of pull in your arm. “At least-”
You actually don’t move forward, but backward.
“At least touch me, just this once.” Before you know what she’s doing, it’s already too late. Her hand guides yours to her thigh, working the curve of your thumb and index up her waist. Part of you is impressed at the amount of work she put in maintaining a chiseled frame, the muscle very much present the more your fingers press down on the skin. “For a little bit.”
(Should’ve left the room when you had the chance.)
Your eyes continue to gaze and drift all over Kazuha’s body, hand to her chest with the thumb curling below her breast. Her humming rumbles low, safe. It hadn’t been that long since she was out in the cold, but she’s surprisingly warm.
She makes sure every single part of your hand feels it, flipping it over to the knuckles past her hips, fingertips making contact to the patterned lace of her panties - the fabric clearly damp when she starts to shift her hips at your touch. It’s all gone wrong - a mess, one really fucked up mess - her lower half continues to move with both of her legs pressing your hand in, holding you tight at her sensitive clit, the huffs rising and falling along with her chest the more she used your fingers to get herself off.
Drunk Kazuha was easy to deal with. Sleepy drunk Kazuha was a cakewalk in caring for. But never in your years of knowing her where she would be like this. Let alone the fact you’re in a relationship with her best friend and you’re staring further and further away from the door towards freedom.
The reality check will be cashed in once it’s all over.
You say her name, which spills out in a stutter; your state of mind incomprehensible to the stacked hands working the heat and slick between Kazuha’s legs, head unable to stay still and lolling side to side, elbows digging into the mattress.
How does she not feel embarrassed with what she’s doing? Sarcasm applied: how are you not ashamed of this?
It hits you right then and there: in the retracted hand of yours, eliciting another small tantrum of Kazuha kicking and waving her arms like a kid. You take a second to pause, remember how you got here in the first place and why, clouded with anger and confusion, hindering a sizable amount of time to reflect. Soon, you found it best to retreat from the situation and into the kitchen, grab a glass of water and wash your hands to calm yourself.
(Even as your thumb grazes the glass in a period of contemplating, the whole ordeal can't be swallowed down that easily, as much as you want it to. Not when you’re achingly hard in your sweatpants and that serves a few more strings of curses out your mouth.)
One last thing that you could do before heading back to your room was set the small bottle of aspirin at the side of her bed for when she wakes up. Maybe convince her to use that body pillow of hers to mimic the warmth; you nod your head at the thought, it could work and it should. It’s been a few minutes since her mini breakdown and you assume that she’d be asleep by now.
You couldn’t wait until the morning to tease her about being a horny drunk - worry about being her personal punching bag later.
Apparently the teasing would have to wait. Because your personal ideal about Kazuha was about to be shifted again.
The last thing you would’ve expected was for her to be sound asleep. Instead, she’s got her tube top up to her upper chest, one delicate hand furiously rubbing sloppy circles into her clit, the other gripping into the mattress as she’s on her knees, body pillow between her legs, grinding into the cushions. Her pants are at the foot of the bed, panties loosely around her right ankle. She’s an insufferable cocktease.
It’s something straight out of your wet dreams, from a time when everything revolved around Kazuha. You’re sucked into an inescapable vacuum of thoughts you’d never think of again (with things like those, it’s all a lie, they always are). You can’t stop peering through the crack in the door, opening it wider to watch Kazuha grab a handful of her tit and ride her own hand. She’s too into it to pay attention to you, and you’re fighting every urge in the fingers sliding down your thigh, unable to move.
She only seemed to have one thing on her lips, the only thing plaguing her intoxicated mind. The tube top at her pits and the gush of her cunt soaking up the last pillowcase, but you’re seeing it clear as day.
You can’t help but think how good your name sounds on her lips.
Kazuha then gropes both of her tits, pinching both buds of her nipples to keep her from stopping, finally figuring out that she can continue without the support, falling back on the bed, unfolding her legs like butterfly wings to reveal how wet she was. The small webbing of her slick coating her index and middle fingers, leaving more spots on the bed sheets beneath her.
There’s a deathly, fucked up part of you in the back of your mind: that wants to give in to the temptation. Oh, you could give Kazuha the same treatment as Yunjin when you have her in a blithering wreck, fucking her full as she creams on your cock, grab her by the hair and press her to the closest thing nearby to reatalite on the slightly abusive attitude. Get your tongue all over her cunt like it’s the last meal you’d ever have on your knees and have her cumming and hands full of every single part of her body until she’s had enough (which will most likely be never in this case). The need for more is an absolute certainty, a greater purpose. You'll consciously be happier in being rough, be a pain in her ass (quite literally, sooner than you think), and completely forget about the resistance or consequences.
You’re holding yourself back for now, placing the water and two tablets of aspirin on the dresser, lean your shoulder to the door frame - inhaling and exhaling quietly to not make her realize you were still in the room.
She doesn’t stop her fingers from dipping inside her leaking slit, wagging it across her folds with every passing shudder of her breathing, sinking it back in soon two digits at a time. Debauched, impure, sinful; you could go through the list of your lexicon to describe this present moment and still won’t give an explanation as to why you can’t look away. You watch as her eyes wander, flickering when she looks down and plop her head back on the pillow when the finger curl rubs at a sensitive spot.
And it’s almost instinctual, close to second nature: your hand tugging your dick out, paying close attention to how the slenderness of her hand widely spreading her pussy folds. How Kazuha wished her own hand was a dildo or a vibrator or your cock - they won’t stretch in the way she imagines it.
The third finger she inserted was a good try, you’ll give her that. You can’t help but be enamored.
Suddenly, she’s switching out names. First, your name and then Yunjin’s. That’s a new piece of information you’ll save for later. Ignoring the question of how weird because this was already fucking insane as it is; you’re slowly pumping your shaft in time with her upward thrusts, grip your shaft to mimic the pressure and emulate how the skin would be coated in her soaking wetness, listening closely to the squelching getting louder and louder it seems.
Kazuha’s legs are flush against the mattress, as far as she could get them. She’s flexible enough to do it, opening up more room for her other hand to get a fill of her desperate cunt. A sweet view. You’re lucky to have witnessed it in real time.
Shit, you’re silently cursing to yourself. Wishing that you would’ve abstained in committing such a wicked act.
But you keep pumping, delusion plaguing your mind. You’re lost in the sights, the sounds, her face wobbling to more rapturous, tucking her hand and tilting her hips like those other guys have done to her, the heat tugging them tightly - God, she doesn’t let up with the lovely moaning.
“Mmm, yes, right there-”
Seeing Kazuha like this feels undeserved.
“Please, please-”
“What is it. Kazuha? Want some help there?” You ask mindlessly, slipping out of your sweats some more to open up your legs.
And when she says your name again: “I need you here with me.”
“I’m not far,” you answer, gaze crestfallen and wistful.
You lower your guard when the rush of euphoria begins to spread within. The sensation of jerking yourself had the capacity to wear you out just how you wanted. Because of this, when you eventually look back up, you can see the glint of watered eyes watch across from you - in between the valley of her breasts, toned legs and reddened knees. “Look at you, so handsome,” she says, hand circling her clit faster. Harder. Fingers increasing in pace to match your strokes rather than the other way around.
“Fuck, you look so good-” you grunt with buckling knees. A familiar, aching tension in your stomach, the pin rising to the peak in your balls. The wonders of having a pretty best friend.
“Yeah?” she murmurs. “Like this? My pussy out wide open for you? Why don’t you walk back here and plug it up?”
“Would feel-” Kazuha wheezes, a relieving proposition. “Even better, with you.” She says it like it’s some forbidden truth.
In an alternate reality, she’d be right.
“Think so?” Jesus fucking christ, you’ve lost it. In the current affair, this is all that mattered. “You’d prefer my dick to split your guts up instead of your fingers?”
“God, yes.”
“Want me to take care of that pretty little cunt of yours?”
Kazuha sighs once more, confirming the question for you. It didn’t take much to work her up in general; if you didn’t have the remaining ounces of common sense, you could’ve dropped your pants right at the door and get even more dirty with the arousal pouring relentlessly out of her stuffed hole. It wouldn’t be a bad idea right? Cleaning up her mess with your hands, your mouth, gurgle down the endless stream of her pussy where there’d be multiple threads dripping down her legs. Fucking hell, you really could if you wanted to.
Though you don’t move a single muscle besides your hand.
“C’mon, more. Just a little more,” she groans, breath hitching every other second. You can feel the air get tighter, the vibrations in your throat tremoring along with every tense fiber of muscle. Coming down to a fine point, overtaking you.
You’re just as shameless as her.
The piercing wail of your name off her lips sounds broken, eyes clenched shut when you finally fall off that peak. You cum all over your fingers, spurting and smearing across the skin - fuck, it comes in a panic when some of it spills on the hardwood, but you could care less since it blends in well with the color. How you managed to remain standing from your high was a mystery, knees bending forward while the twitching continued to pass.
Kazuha tenses her body from the erratic movement of her chest, struggling to calm down from her orgasm. Through your sated, lidded eyes, you watch her frame relax, head falling over to the side, hand plopping over to the edge like someone shot a bullet through her on the spot.
“Kazuha.” You huff, hoping for a response. “Kazuha?”
Yep, she’s knocked out.
You take a minute or two to return to your senses, looking back at Kazuha’s body to ensure she was fast asleep. Staring at the gentle shift of her arm cuddling the pillow she just rode on, you found it best to let her deal with the clean up later in the morning when she’s fully sobered up.
A really big ‘if’ for later: her remembering everything she did from last night. You’re swearing that it doesn’t happen - hoping you don’t breathe a word of what you’ve seen or did.
(It would be a huge problem on your hands, and an even worse one if it becomes hers.)
Fuck, she would be mortified.
–
“You look like shit,” Yunjin tells you later that morning, chin perched up and eyes squinted. “Didn’t you and Kazuha come back together 30 minutes later?”
“Something like that,” you sigh, giving up the effort in holding back your yawn. “Slow mornings are always harder than the actual day.”
“Hangovers are never kind.”
You shrug. “Some of us can handle it better than others.”
Right on cue, you and Yunjin glance over to see a tired Kazuha sitting alone on one of the chairs near the kitchen. Her hoodie is up and both hands are on her face to hide the subtle cough. She looks like she could sleep for another eight hours after breakfast, and it most definitely could happen. The plate in front of her is cleaned off: holding the knife and fork, coated with syrup and clearly ran through.
Yunjin gives you a look, probably along the lines of: ‘are you sure nothing bad happened to her?’
You purse your lips and open the fridge, with a cold water bottle now in your hand.
From then on it’s a silent exchange: Yunjin walking over to Kazuha and caressing the back of her head, Kazuha looking and nodding to let her know she’s alright before going on with the rest of her unproductive day.
As for your part: you slide the bottle over to her with two more tablets of aspirin for her to take. For insurance, you insist. She’s someone you know very well who can’t function properly unless there’s some sort of responsible figure who can facilitate and keep an eye on her condition.
It isn’t like her to be awfully quiet at times, so you fill in that role of the opposite as needed.
“How’s your head?” You ask, voice lowered that you don’t scare the poor girl. “Gotta say, I’m jealous you got better sleep than me for once.”
Kazuha leans back on the chair with her eyes trained on you. The occasional beep of the smoke detector above goes on for a few seconds when you see the tip of her tongue peek out and runs it along her teeth, contemplating.
“Better,” she says. Her first words of the day. A small win. “Thank you.”
You nod in approval, poking her forehead for some fun. “Great. No going out for you today. Not until you’re back to normal. You know the rules.”
The gentle clatter of the silverware along the plate compliments the soft scuffle of your feet along the floor. You’re not thinking too much about what happened last night, drawing up the conclusions that it was a one-time thing. Anything beyond that reason would bring in plausible deniability.
But you carry on with the simple house chore with Kazuha unknowingly staring from behind: biting her lip.
–
Ironic about the unproductive day, you do everything but that.
Emails, papers, evaluations, your endless editing of the resume, the Spoitfy window with the classical music playlist, all of it eats up the time. With the occasional step out to grab some food or a cup of water - or maybe Yunjin piggybacking you as an attempt to get you away from the desk-
“I know you big baby,” you wheeze, feeling Yunjin’s nose against the nape of your neck, “Just let me finish one more thing and then we can do something. Promise.”
“You said that last time,” she groans, corralling her arms tighter on your shoulders, toes barely touching the floor, “Maybe I should change the password to your desktop so you don’t go to it first thing in the morning. It’s a dangerous addiction.”
“It’s called a routine,” you rebuke.
“I know your password,” argues Yunjin.
“Might have to change it again.”
She gets off when you settle back in the office chair, her arms still wrapped and pressing her lips on to your cheek, making you giggle at the sudden assault of touches. To her defense, they’re pretty effective - her way of swaying you to lose your concentration. You don’t think twice when she forces you to put down the phone before lunch or dinner, or when you’re out with friends and she thinks it would be a great idea to send you nudes knowing very well that it’s not meant to be seen publicly. Her hair starts to pool over your front, smelling like apple rose and aloe. “So you’re saying it’s not ‘huhyun108’? Are you serious?” And she’s got you all figured out - the many angles of pressure points to slowly give in towards. Picking and choosing her battles carefully, but you don’t go down from a fight that easily.
“Gonna change it now, actually,” you say, fast tapping on the keyboard. “Find it best for you not to look.”
Yunjin cackles as you’re pushing her face away, pulling the chair along with you.
–
Yunjin doesn’t have to do too much: all it takes is one breath and a few sly words and she gets what she wants.
She’s adamant with what’s hers: lipstick mark on your neck? That’s Yunjin. Her white scrunchie on deck at your wrist for when she can’t deal with her hair? Also Yunjin - supplying to the demand was always her kind of thing.
It’s midweek, at the point in the day where things get stagnant and there isn’t anything of interest to note, the usual grace period where the thought of doing nothing is considered the best option. Yunjin keeps watching that same netflix series, dissatisfied with how the current season played out. To compensate: she rewatches the second season for the sixth time and her key point was the fact the two most popular contestants really hit it off, but never got together.
That wasn’t the main concern, however.
“She hasn’t been out of her room since yesterday,” Yunjin pouts, long legs stacked on top of yours and restraining. “I’m getting a little worried.”
“I saw her go to the kitchen and back earlier,” you inform, tossing popcorn into your mouth. “She did have that pilates session around lunch. You know Zuha, and her cardio.”
“That door’s been shut a little too long,” she mumbles, not entirely ruling out your observation. “I know that there’s the unspoken rule for privacy, but I’m genuinely curious what the girl’s been up to. She seems a bit-”
“Closed off?” You fill in, completing the train of thought. “You may be right with that.”
“Mmm,” Yunjin agrees.
“Wait it out some more, then we’ll see what happens.”
–
(You wonder a bit too much, and get caught off guard as a consequence.
You haven’t moved from the couch, with Yunjin fast asleep at your side. The position so comfortable, you could honestly pass out here and wake up eons later - a tempting idea to entertain, and a plausible action to consider.
Kazuha appears from the hallway, rubbing the tiredness off from her three hour nap. A bit bizarre to nap past 8 PM, but that’s her thing. Her shirt is so baggy that it covers some of her thighs, toes spread on the floor before she continues to make headway to the fridge. Hair frizzled in messy waves and moving gently in every step.
So you initiate first, “Hey,” and you layer that with a lean back of the head of the couch so she can see you better in the dim light. “Everything good?”
Kazuha twists her body towards your voice, gaze stoic and quiet, fingers twisting the bottle cap open and fiddling it around. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired, that’s all.”
“Good to know,” and your words come casual. Unbothered. As if you heard enough to carry on and leave her be, aware that she’s able to interact again. “Happy to hear your voice, like alive- or something.”
She doesn’t know you can hear her snort from the couch.
“But you are okay, right?” You ask again. Kazuha’s backside twisting once more to face you, blinking carefully. Her expression shifts to something more misty, unclear. All she gives is a nod and hum. Doesn’t say anything after.
At least she tells you that much.)
–
Okay, it’s probably bad that you’re keeping an eye on Kazuha - reserving a spot in your head to revisit that night over and over. Maybe it means something, or it doesn’t.
It really, really shouldn’t. Like at all. But the recurring thought fills your mind at some point between the passing days.
“I’m heading out now.” Kazuha says to you sweeping through the kitchen, bag in hand and behind Yunjin. “Won’t be back until later probably.”
“Where are you headed this time?” Yunjin leans over, resting her head.
“Sakura called me to be her muse for her fashion portfolio. Said I fit the profile with the outfits she has in mind. Girl can crochet, but clothes? She has a really good fucking talent for them. I can see her go places.”
“That’s our Saki,” Yunjin muses, hand up for Kazuha to acknowledge before making her way around the kitchen island, causing you to turn about face. She isn’t going to confront you about that (for God’s sake, you can’t stop thinking about it anyway), but rather stare you down because it’s the usual thing with her.
It’s a little intimidating that she’s almost your height, with a body well maintained she could go twelve rounds if she wanted. Yunjin watches as Kazuha squints her eyes - works through the fridge for another cold bottle with her gaze trained on you. You and her exchange eyebrow expressions and read into the message through your eyes, Kazuha tilting her chin then breaking eye contact as you twist the other cheek. Next thing you know, her hand smacks your ass.
“The fuck was that for?” You groan, clearly offended. “You’re the one who wanted the face-off.”
“For being a dickhead,” Kazuha says with no color in her voice. “Also, thanks for saving me at the party while Sakura was getting railed outside. I owe you one.”
“Amazing how you say things like that so casually,” you muse, cocking your head. “You’re welcome, I suppose.”
Kazuha then flashes a look back with her hands now in the pocket of her hoodie. You can’t help but glance over to the defined frame of her face, the slope of her nose, her lack of makeup knowing very well that she’ll get a touch up from Sakura before the lookbook photoshoot. She’s painting a false picture with those baggy clothes she wears on a daily basis, but you and Yunjin are waiting to see the photos once they’re done.
“Yunjin,” she says.
“Hm?” Yunjin hums with food in her mouth.
“Did I ever tell you about his decent looking face?” Kazuha concludes, tilting her head side to side for better angles. “Still a dickhead, though.”
“Ha. Thanks.”
She points her lips at you, a quirk of hers that she made as her habit. Her hand goes up in lieu of a goodbye and slides past the wall.
–
“It’s hilarious because,” Yunjin catches herself mid snort, hand hiding her mouth, “The way they say Jurassic World is so funny to me. And the guy repeats it as ‘Jorassic Wurold’ like- the pronunciation is slightly off when he asks her about the movie.”
You test the wording with your own mouth but emphasize on the syllables, trying to emulate what she observed from watching the other day. It distracts you from the assortment of ingredients spread out on the cutting table, falling into Yunjin’s shenanigans was always the daily driver no matter what the mood was on the hour.
Midway through slicing some meats, you’re still practicing the wording on your lips. “Y’know, english is not everyone’s strong suit,” you tell her, portions set aside for some vegetables, leaning the other way to get a better view of your fingers, rolled up and not in the blade’s way, “gotta commend him keeping the conversation going. That takes effort.”
Yunjin tilts the cup into her face, nodding in agreement; she’s got her legs crossed off the counter, feet pointed up when you glance back to see a hinted eyebrow. Bare face and long lashes fluttering - a light blush on her cheeks as she leans back and puts the bottom of the beverage upwards.
She smacks her lips soon after, licking her teeth. “He was really into her, you saw it too.”
The metal blade clacks against the wood. “Huh?”
“Don’t ‘huh’ me. You know who.”
“Dex?”
“Dex,” she repeats, pointing the empty cup in your direction.
“I saw it happening, don’t worry,” you say, attention drawn back to the chopped up greens now being placed into a bowl. “Part of me was convinced that they would be together when they met from the get-go.”
For a quick fill-in: it hasn’t been that long since Kazuha went out, a little over thirty to forty-five minutes at most. In that time, you and Yunjin managed to get through a third of a series she picked at random before she started to get more touchy with you. Like the good boyfriend you are - ready at every beck and call, you oblige. Yunjin swung both of her legs onto the seat of the couch, easing into the slow graze of your hands on her thigh, hand cupping her hips and raising the arch in her back when she felt the hard press of your hips against hers. She hates it when it comes to the teasing, but she’s actually a hypocrite on the fact that she does it all the time when you have your legs spread either sitting or laying down; when your brains are fucked into oblivion while she’s on top, bouncing on your balls without a care in the world for damage control. But you broke her brain a little when you grinded into her clothed cunt for fifteen minutes until one of your guys’ stomachs grumbled which put everything on hold for now.
(There’s always a red herring to be said. For this one in particular, you coined it as: “gotta have that fuel for later, especially if we’re going for more than two rounds.”)
“Thought so too,” says Yunjin, projecting her own insights when she lets herself down from the polished marble, setting her bearings headway towards you, tending to the ingredients.
A pot gets put on top of the stove behind you, along with the chopped veggies. “Didn’t he also say that it was a bit late for him to pursue her?” You ask, twisting the dial until the clicking sets the burner to life, gaze locked on Yunjin who stops an inch away. “Something about not being a reliability because of what she’s doing for her career?”
“Somewhere along those lines, the gap wasn’t too bad either, five years if I recall,” Yunjin supplies, unsure.
“She was a neuro major, Yunjin.”
“So?”
“Dex has his own thing going too, doesn't he?”
“If you really think about it, I thought it could’ve worked between the two. Yes, he was into her. He was also very amazed with what she was doing with her life. Not to mention the fact that these two clicked the moment he entered the competition as the wild card compared to the other guys. Oh, and that bombshell reveal that she was attending Harvard? Literally gagged the hosts when it first happened. Don’t forget that she was attracted to him for a minute before nothing eventually came to be? I remember showing you the video of those two after the season aired and you can still see the chemistry in them. Some people say that it wouldn’t work out since the scenario is long-distance, but the mother approved of the guy for crying out loud-” You grin and shake your head. Yunjin’s left completely baffled because of it. “-okay, I’m still a firm believer that those two are endgame. That’s my point. I have evidence and a solid reason to back it up. Go ahead, try and test me.”
“No, I hear you.” You reel her in for a hug while her hands are on her hips. “If it were me, I would’ve thought long and hard about making a big commitment like that.”
Yunjin sighs, hands sliding up your back. “I know. I really liked their vibe together.”
Your hands get full of her ass, beneath the fabric of her shirt, laying prints in the mix of skin and threads. Yunjin puts her arms around your neck loosely, stacked and hanging with the slightest pull from her elbows. It’s in the most innocent of pretense, the suggestion heavily implied without the use of words at all. She leans up while you tilt down, meeting in the middle for that overdue relapse of addiction: the lips. She sighs, teeth claiming your mouth as her own, pulling the lovely part of flesh that makes you want to hear those familiar octaves as her body crumbles from the greediness and weight of your touch.
Every kiss feels like a swan song; the desire of never letting go, press your face deeper into hers, leave a mark on the refreshed canvas waiting to be painted in inspiration and curated for no one else in the world to see. You’re aware that she’s willing to incite change, create something new, get in the right mindset of a familiar avenue in your head where there’s nothing but desperation. It’s in how her fingers rake through your hair, weave down your waist, to your hips, close to the spot where she wants to bring you out the most.
Think of it as her picking up where she left off on the couch. You could’ve done it right then and there, but you didn’t.
“Should’ve thought long and hard about earlier, right?” Yunjin teases, half-drunk already with her slack lips.
“There’s a reason why I set you on the counter in the first place,” you huff, pushing her body past the stove, pinning her against the drawer. “Because of this. I know you, Yunjin.” You then lift her back up to the spot where she started, height difference elevated by a mere few inches. The top of her forehead rests on yours.
“Such a buzzkill,” she concedes, pouting her heart away like it doesn’t do anything to you. Arms holding you hostage as you try to break free from her grasp. “What’s a girl gotta do to get some kisses around here?”
“Not a lot,” you offer.
“Says the person who’s trying to get rid of me.” She doubles down, ankles to your backside and limits the movement. Her exhale is satirical, hoping you’ll dish out the punishment.
“Your stomach thinks otherwise.” You declare. Pushing her legs apart and retreating. You look over to the kitchen for anything within reach, and settle for an apple. You further the distance between Yunjin to grab it, toss it over as she catches it effortlessly - bites down the fruit in defeat, satiating the cravings. “There. That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
(She would much rather have your lips again or even your cock. The fire’s already started, and the water begins to boil.)
The space feels so far between you two, yet so small. Yunjin holds the apple with her teeth, watches you round the corner of the counter - sees your eyes dart to an open box, the bundle of pasta in the plastic, a knife- something to divert your attention for the time being while you’re forming a strategy in your head - a game plan as to how you’ll deal with her tonight.
You see: you think you know Yunjin, every part of her body and mind, inside and out.
She debunks the theory right out of the gate. In a million ways you can’t wrap your head around.
All she does is straighten her posture, spreads her legs across the glossy wood, and lifts up the fabric past her hips.
There’s nothing fucking underneath. Just sweet, smooth thighs and her pretty pink glistening pussy lips.
It gets your mind racing in confusion:
“Since when did you-” you’re taken aback, torn from being half-shocked and not-so surprised, also doubling down on the fact she definitely had panties on beneath that shirt. “Didn’t you have something there just a few minutes ago?”
Yunjin is a master of her art, the trickery in the highest rank imaginable. You envy her intellect at times - her charms, the ways that she can make you speechless just by being herself. This very girl within the walls of your home she claimed as hers, who managed to seep into the nooks of your brain, poisoning you from within until you can’t go for a second longer without wanting to see her gorgeous face, hear her voice; feel her pull you down back to earth while also sending you straight to heaven. None of it really makes sense with her, nor is supposed to. You could go through multiple lifetimes in the existence of the universe and she’ll still find a way to be in all of them.
Though, she doesn’t give you any chance of solitude with your thoughts. She raises her right hand behind her back, middle and ring finger holding the nylon as her admission of guilt.
It earns her a small shake of your head, disappointed and impressed in the same moment.
“Sleight of hand, mister,” she tuts, victorious. Her thumb then grazes against the nylon before falling into its fated purgatory of the floor below. She catches you zoning out, doing two loud clicks of her tongue to keep your eyes on the prize. “My eyes are up here, by the way.”
“Where did you think I was looking?”
“Probably at something that matters.”
“And that is?”
“Fuck if I know- oh wait, I do know. You’re just not doing anything about it.”
“Want me to proclaim it out loud?” You inquire, sardonically - as if you were willing to play along with her little game of pragmatics, read into the lines of a script and catch the nuances of a hidden message past the sentences. “State the obvious since the naivety is starting to become unbearable for you?”
“I never said that,” Yunjin rebukes. Hand sliding down to her legs - those dainty fingers having their own fun.
And you begin your endeavor back to her. One graciously little step at a time.
Your ears tick at the sudden hitch of breath, muffled by the apple blocking her mouth. It’s on purpose. God help her. She curls her fingertips at the first dip inside her cunt the more you glide over the floor. The weight of your feet becomes less heavier and lighter in every move. Yunjin’s head bumps the cabinet, hips tensing at the rush of her fingers sliding across her folds. She won’t fuck herself like this. No- she would prefer to have you deal the actual blows to her body when you’ve finally decided enough is enough. We’re getting there, don’t worry. Just. A little. Push.
She finally lets the apple go from her mouth, off to where it’ll most likely be disregarded into the sink or the trash. You can’t stop the constant twitching your hands are doing; so while the pathway is clear, you take into account of the bubbling pot next to you, putting a lid on to make the gurgling much more muted, zero in on the vibrations rumbling in Yunjin’s throat, focus on the rise of her chest.
Her head drops and to the side, the pull of fabric molding to her figure. Emphasizing on the curves of her waist, those mounds, the present appearance of her hard nipples. The implications clear as day in the form of a seductive summoning.
But you start slowly: a hand to her knee, then the other. Anticipation is killing you both.
Landfall.
“What am I gonna do with you?” You sigh, looking down at the sight of Yunjin touching herself, thick air being expelled from your lungs, wiping your inner self clean before repurposing to acclimate the need of getting dirty again.
Yunjin pulls a lazy grin, beautifully - and leans back while her hips slips forward. Her grip guides your wrists over her skin, shirt hiked up past her waist and into her hips by the second. “You don’t have to say or do if you want to.” She offers, but that’s the setup. “Just wisely biding your time.”
Not much of it has changed, the way you willingly sink down to your knees. You’re romantic about it - deserves a smirk for the appreciation. You glance up to her toffee shaded eyes, fingers rotating to hook firm on the peak of her thighs, extend your arms up high like she’s some sacred treasure, proffering. “Darling,” and the singular word sets the rest of the testament into place, the burgeoning intention of her demise at your hands. You think back to a week ago: where she found herself in the familiar pecking order, back on the linoleum with her elbow as faulty support, splitting her open and feel her body go limp when you made her cum like she suggested. Your mouth freezes with a gasp when you look closely at her seeping slit, heart stopped as you examine in awe. “I’ll have all the time in the world,” you mumble - or what’s close, honestly - into the plush surface of her thighs, brush your lips down a familiar path you know very well. “But you, gotta slowly show me you deserve it.”
Her breath hitches again, hesitating. Nerves seizing muscle right where they are.
“At this rate we’ll be here all night,” she hums, eyes torn from gazing down and spacing out to something in the distance. “Not that I mind, of course, but-” she then nibbles on her lip at the feeling of yours on her legs, deluded and washed over with lust to forget about everything else, “dinner’s still on the cards, yes?”
“Pick up that apple. You eat while I eat, how bout that?” You propose the solution. One which Yunjin can’t ignore.
She reaches for the apple and stares into the yellow crater, taking another bite. Cheeks full of fruity bits. “I could get used to this,” her jaw trembling and breath spilling out in a shudder. “Wouldn’t you rather hear-”
Her neck loosens at the swipe of your tongue over her folds, apple tossed off to the side one more likely never to be eaten again. She leaks out a little more slick for you to clean up, and it’s delightful. Yunjin fancies the idea of scooting her hips forward, thighs hanging out and barely her ass on the counter, providing you more space to work with when your arms hook around the swell of her ass and pull her closer, hand quick to the crease of her knee to put her heel on your collarbone and takes her fingers into your hair, spread one side of her folds and dip your tongue in some more, consuming the warmth down your throat and eat her out alive.
“Honey,” you proclaim with an arch to your eyebrow, breathless, “You’re fucking leaking.”
Yunjin pulls this devilish grin, yanks your head back a little further back for you to look up, face twisted with madness. Staring deep into your soul, insatiable. “Your turn to eat, baby.”
Very few people can play your game, but Yunjin was a whirlwind full of surprises. Each one more shocking than the last.
“What’s wrong? Speechless?” she asks, but doesn’t give you a second to respond when she reels your head back in.
So you put your mouth back what’s rightfully yours: press your tongue into her aching cunt and save the words for later.
You hear her wince, picturing the pained expression in the creased eyebrows, eyes closed shut, jaw hung low. She grinds your face deeper, much deeper to the point where she’s needy enough to feel the light graze of your teeth.
You slide your fingers into her, unfazed when her knees close your head in, giving you no chance to breathe. Her pants increase in pace, falling apart just a few inches above you. The sounds are absolutely wonderful, blessing you with the harmonious repertoire of moaning spilling out of her mouth - lapping up the wetness at the curl of your finger, cleaning up the salty sweetness of her arousal, slick spread across skin and the sensitive response of her clawing hand into your hair.
Yunjin’s hair starts to pool over the front of her face, the sight alone is a delight in itself. The ripped collar showing more of her pale shoulder, handfuls of the shirt now undone as her other hand joins the fray on your head, body clenching and relaxing - unsure on which choice is the right one. You and her both listen in to the soft licks and wet smacks of skin and folds, hear her giggle in relief until your nose brushes up against her clit, throbbing core given a quick second of grace before you dive back in and don’t spare a chance for her to breathe. She asked for this, and you expect her to handle it as best she can. Until she’s whimpering and desperate and begging to be more useful than just your mouth and hands. Till she has to say the very words herself in what she wants, while her frame trembles delicately.
More, more. The boiling pot next to you starts to bubble past the cover, droplets of water hitting the grill and sizzling. You push your tongue in deeper, get the gloss over your lips, pull her folds apart wider and hit the same spot where it kills her over and over, notice the curl of her toes into your shirt, dig her heel deep into the threads. Yunjin bites down her teeth, hand to her breast and gripping tightly. The bubbles start to lift the lid, popping.
“Can you - be - even more - god, holy fuck-” she spits, words stuttering as her hips slide out over the edge, prompting you to hold her high, drop your jaw even more, kiss and suck the untouched areas and spread her legs. She gasps. “Baby,” she laughs even louder, slapping her palm down on the countertop, “God, I can’t believe-”
She rucks her hips upward, mimicking a thrust. Your head fades out the rest of the outside noise.
“-you, of all people-” And a moan pierces your ears, the sound heavenly. Yunjin’s hand palms the back of your head as you start to alternate an up and down motion. Her high imminent, in the curl of your knuckle and lick of your tongue pushing her closer to that pedestal. You push and pull, let the grip of her fingers guide you to the spots where she needs it. Her way of life: the taste of her; warm and addicting. “Fuck, s-shit, there- there! Right there-”
You open your mouth even more, drinking her mess until she has you drowning in it. Her swollen cunt’s quivering. You can’t help yourself but smile.
“Need your mouth, your tongue- your- fuck-”
You’re happily swimming.
It’s even better when her chest is puffed up, back arched. At a loss for words and just straight up gone. You hold her down as she’s shaking and suck her pussy for your own benefit - devouring her relentlessly, voice broken to a shriek as her juices gush around your tongue and fingers, groaning lowly while you carry on licking the mix of plush-soaked skin, feel the lingering effects of her orgasm leave her body with a harsh pull of her clit on your lips.
She’s trying everything to calm down, head lightly tapping the cabinet behind her. Clawed fingers releasing their grasp as you help yourself up, legs loosely wrapped around yours and posture reduced to a slouch. “Hate you, by the way. I hate you the way that you are.” She tells you, arms barely placed on your shoulders, slipping. “Why do you have to be so good at being a douche?”
“Don’t follow your point,” you dart back with a sigh. Height restored and hands back to where they started: on her knees; you cock your head to the right, get a closer look at Yunjin’s messy hair, rumpled shirt, thighs glistening and pink-
She smacks the side of your neck, earning a pitiful laugh. You’re aware that she loves these kinds of treatments: the kind of treatment where you want her to tenderly run her hand down your face, whisper in your ear of all the things she wants you to do, sliding deep into her cunt and let the heat consume you, wanting - you’ve got get a grip, seriously. She has your head spiraling and somehow you always come out on top of it; the usual bouts where the victor has already been decided. “One day, you’ll see what I mean.”
“I have a hard time understanding you and Kazuha as it is,” mouth agape, bearing no mind to the act she’s trying to pull. Unpredictability was one of Yunjin’s strong suits and that was no surprise: peeling her shirt off over her shoulders and lifting the veil hiding the endless curves of her body - the slutty little waist, long thighs, her breasts-
“Maybe I can help you with that,” she offers, lacking judgement. Her hand slips underneath your sweats, fingers taking hold of your cock, confirming her suspicions. Your mouths meet once again, sloppily, you giving leeway after eating out her cunt and in return she has you twitching. “Goodness me,” she mutters into the warmth of your mouth, tempted, rubbing that effect on you. “I bet you’re just dying to stick this inside of me already.”
“Watch your mouth.”
“Or what-” she grins lazily.
You grasp the skin a little bit tightly as your other hand cups her cunt, the heel of your palm digging into her clit.
“-fuck, that’s what you meant,” her voice diminishing with lidded eyes.
You then quickly take into account the small funnel of air blowing from the cover; the whirr of the vent above coming to life.
Yunjin scoots herself over the counter, sees you tug your cock out of pants, lip to teeth as it gently touches her skin. It’s all part of the pecking order, how things build up high to eventually fall - second nature, muscle memory, all the same.
She’s got her arms and legs around you, inching her hips forward to speed up the process, hopeful in you wrecking her body as always: “You know, not talking isn’t gonna get you everywhere if you don’t do it,” she goes on, no care for your fidgeting hands rubbing up and down her thighs.
“What the hell is this, a silent treatment?” she asks again, impatience starting to get to her. “C’mon, say something.”
You serve her anything but that, slicking your fingers with her cum and tap the pads into her skin, gently feeling her sensitive clit to make her lose her train of thought. She’s incessant, but it’s rare for her to be less on the offensive in pressing you for once, so you’ll take full advantage of it.
“What do you want me to say? I’ve already told you about my observations,” you answer, digits sliding in her cunt and the girl just nods. She’ll notice but still talk out of her ass, since she loves the thrill. Her accompanying grin along with the lip bite and wink sells the whole image, leans you in with the shirt wrapped around your neck, pulling. The small twinge of romance attached.
The shirt then crumples on the floor when she lets go.
“That I’m fucking leaking? You sucked me clean, I can barely feel my legs.”
“Right,” you laugh, working her face some more until her hands go languid.
Her look goes curt, dismissive. Lashes fluttering in every blink because that’s the second best thing she has in her bag of tricks, aware of the double-edgedness it ensues. She inhales sharply, quick, sudden, bracing the tip of your cock sliding across her folds. “How long has it been since you last fucked me? Yesterday? Two days ago? Finally having your fun since I sucked you off last time, hm?”
“I don’t need to answer that,” you rebuke. “There’s no point to it.” Is the everlasting conclusion.
She cocks her head to the left. Elbow holding her up in the best way she can, arching her back again, your cock in position at her awaiting entrance, cup your fingers into her hip. “Don’t blame me for killing you this time.”
Her face steadies, frozen. Then: the lines of her face warble, mouth dropping. Cunt inviting your tip pressing in.
“Like I ever would,” she scoffs, right hand to the back of your neck, clinging. “This is what I wanted, remember?”
(The way that she’s spread, heel hooking to your knee, she’s stripped and defenseless against you. It’s the guilty pleasure you have as her pussy accommodates you, all wet and inviting that it won’t be a struggle to fit in one seamless push. Regardless: that part alone makes sense.)
“Question is,” you murmur during the break of eye contact, staring lower at the view of your cock finally slips inside and see the quick contraction of her stomach - like she was ready to take a punch to the gut - glancing back up and watch her eyelids flutter at the feeling. “You can’t do anything in this situation, can you?” This girl just came in your mouth a few minutes ago but she’s takes you in with no problem: filling every inch of you in a beautifully fucked up missing piece that she’s constantly deprived of every time. You dig your fingers deep into the skin, stop halfway, then continue to wrench out every inch of her walls.
“God,” Yunjin grits, breath seething in the gaps of her teeth, brows furrowed. “Go to- fuck-”
She doesn’t even finish the sentence when you push further. Replaced with a moan instead; her cheeks and nose wrinkle, fingers balled up to a fist behind and her elbow shaking. Her head barely keeping herself together with the cabinet as a last support, failing terribly.
You stop your movements because the lines on her face are forming toward a familiarity: nervous, dazed, hesitant. A quick twitch of your head negates all of those thoughts away and instead focuses on ramming your hips into her, the clash of skin rippling through you and her both.
It’s the bravado that she carries, the playfulness, her shift of her sly words, withering and fading at the amount of you: she’s fighting every fiber of muscle to sputter out her needs, though the sweat and slick spread out over body make up in the defilement of her undoing. You can see through her bullshit, and all she sees is the glide of your shaft back into her pussy - the width of you stretching so effortlessly her body forms a jagged line along the frame, mewling and bucking forward. Your fingers hold her hips still, drag your cock along the tightness, fill her up until she says otherwise.
“Makes no sense,” Yunjin huffs, gasping, head halfway in the gutter, trying to form a point. Her hands try to carry out her words, clinging, cock-full at the lean up, foreheads clashing. She whines into your skin, “Jesus- holy shit, dear fucking Christ-”
You’ll swallow her words and understand her completely.
Well- to say that her hot cunt is incredible would suffice so much. The more you push, the more the connection feels like it’s meant to be, in all the filth and the intimacy that’s thrown without thinking of the repercussions after.
You’ll give your praises and thanks - how her pussy grips around your cock so snug and tight and perfect, sing it into the skin and walls around you, paint it over as many times you’d like. To have a girl like her: a muse, with the desire and hunger impossible to resist, make you sink deeper and deeper where it won’t feel suffocating.
“Yeah?” you hear yourself say. Like you needed to explain yourself again. “Wouldn’t you know it.”
The strokes. You’re fucking up into her so nicely, give her no chance to breathe, legs hooked around your thighs. She’s opening up her body to you - you’re marking your own territory: shower her face with kisses, suck the skin across her neck, slide your arms underneath her back and keep pounding at the one angle where the trembling reaches her throat, presses her tongue to the back row of her teeth.
Christ, you really have no care; roughing her up on the kitchen counter right before dinner time. The fan above you two continues to whirr the smoke in the air where it masks the bundle of moans and curses spewing out of her lips. You could feel her fingers drag across your back, keeping herself close to you, fearful that you’ll stop like earlier and make her beg for more until she has her fix.
“Baby, baby, holy fuck,” you follow her voice, brushed up against your ear, sift your eyes back onto her and watch her loose mouth. She swallows, grazing the crown of her head to yours. “This cock, I fucking love it. I fucking love it so much, I could die here with how you’re-”
You shut her up, meet in the middle. Line up the beating of your heart to the move of your hips, lock your arms around her back; she’ll come crawling for that high again, blinded by the guarantee of you forcing her orgasm later.
“Yunjin,” you grit. Nearing that inevitable crash-out. It’s a never ending cycle of madness. Her cunt is eating your cock alive, soaking your waist. You want it all.
You want her to cum again: this time on your cock; you want to carry her in her arms, fuck your cock without her feet touching the ground; you want her to scream your name so loudly that it breaks the windows around the house. You’ll never have enough of the indescribable body and feeling that she has, ruining you over and over - not to mention her mouth - that too, is another dangerous addiction.
A fair bout. The fight for who's bolder. Who can make the other person more vulgar by the second.
These things have been decided right from the start.
Yunjin muffles a whimper behind her lips, cock clogging up her cunt like she’s backing away, hiding.
“Need it, need it so fucking much,” she hushes. “You- your cock. Can never get enough of my pretty little cunt - fuck I should just let you fuck me all day, all night, whenever you feel like it.” Her voice is rasped, the words alone sinister: “Warm you up when you least expect it, yeah? You’d like that, don’t you-” She yelps, nose scrunching when you bottom out and press your groin up against her clit, stomach contracting and relaxing as if she’d done five minutes of planking.
So you drag out and thrust in - slam your hips into hers, holding the motion there, repeating it soon after. Her hand files up to the cabinet door above and shove your cock down to the hottest point, where the wobbles of her waist finally reach up to her tits.
Because that’s really the only thing there is to it. Brain fucked out to mush with the marks and glistening sweat spread across, remnants of what the short period has passed.
Like you can’t help yourself. It’s in the enamored looks, the pockets of air siphoned before it’s coughed out, in the blissful enjoyment of fucking your slick cock in and out. “Holy shit,” she’s saying, head toppled off and arm going limp. She saves the energy for other than talking - let the waves of pleasure sweep her body and have you project her thoughts out for her: delirious and maniacal. “I hear- yeah- Okay. Okay, you said it yourself.”
Of course she agrees, and she knows. Whittled down to the fine rawness of it. What else is there left to say?
She’s amazingly gorgeous and beautiful - a gift from God himself. You remind her every time like it’s the first. When her lips met the end of your cock months ago, blowing your world away, the stretch of her pussy swallowing you whole and the tension was undoubtedly abysmal. Another second passes a shared breath: Yunjin-god-fucking-dammit, and there’s a bunch of other shit that gets said, listless and nonsensical where the only thing left to do is let the blistering warmth and clashing tongues do all the work for the both of you.
It’s normal: the way that she clings like she hasn’t seen you for days - leaning back with an arch and quite literally her feet off the ground.
Every moan sounds punctuated lazily, whining and whimpering and in a pitch where she almost sounds scared.
Still, she’s lost the plot: “Fuck me.”
That’s where everything clicks, a flame extinguished and replaced for something new, something profound: her face clenches in the quick swap of pain to relief, when you’ve put your cock at a spot inside where she sobs; the pleasure so intense the both of you exhale in unison, almost like a ‘got you’ moment entirely.
“Honey,” you say against her cheek, fingers planted in the divot of her lower back, spreading her so well the motion is absolutely seamless, a perfect fit and pace to ruin. “Look at you, so lovely; this fucking cunt feels amazing; oh my goodness.” Your words are making sense, barely, but it’s always on this path since you’ve met the girl; you just can’t help yourself. “I adore this pussy a little too much, don’t you think?”
“So funny, ah-” she quips, a smile brandished across her lip, eyes rolling to the back of her head, holding on to the last bits of common sense left, knowing well there’s no point. “I’d let you, to be honest. A good deal: my pussy for your cock. Fair trade?”
“Fuck yes,” is what slips out of your mouth, a truth to savor for eternity. “Want it all.”
It goes both ways: she wants to peg complete bullshit to you, say her fantasies of how big of a slut she can actually be, fuck that snark out of her until she’s satisfied - but then you watch and listen to the more mundane things she does, and your head can’t comprehend it either. You want her, her mind, her body, the secrets that she keeps locked up in a box sunk in the bottom of a river; things that she doesn’t want anyone to find out about; where the dares of admission only comes once in a blue moon and she tries to pass it along in conversation.
You could make an endless list as to what makes Yunjin a treasure to behold, to keep - proclaim it out loud like you haven’t done so already - a collapsing, beautiful madness, honestly. She’s holding you so close and you can’t afford to let go. That’s just how it is. All it takes is one look into her eyes and you never want to leave.
“You’re amazing,” you say to her, breathless.
Yunjin’s lashes flutter shut immediately after. As if you had to tell her again and again.
Her hips stay still while yours continue to move, every aftershock sent through her body creates these ridges you’re proud of, ankles to the swell of your ass, clamping around your cock, grinding teeth with her voice croaking: “-good, so good, so fucking good, please, for the love of God-”
Her upper lip arches the more she inhales, mouth hung open as the moans crumble on top of each other. Most have complained about the increase in occupancy, the hollers of a drinking game, midnight conversations about relationship mishaps and failures, bassline of a song that reverberates on the drywall and the occasional shouting battles that usually ended up stopping after a few minutes. Your neighbors do hear the constant pounding at some point during the day, annoyed and fed up like they didn’t want to have the fun themselves, each thrust bouncing her where her breasts jiggle on the upstrokes, palm full of them, the feel firm and heavy; and you look at her face again - where a certain crease of skin, above her brow, and you know that she’s going to lose it over your cock, how her limbs will surrender willingly, reduced to mush and cradling the fuck through her.
Yunjin’s arm springs forward over your shoulder. You pull her up, sit upright, body bouncing with her ass well off the counter, the angle primed and ready where the shocks to her ass start to become a cushion, tits wobbling and hypnotic and bouncing; you keep- keep fucking her little hole with no regard for her life.
It’s right where she wants you to be.
You’ll lay your flowers later, if you’re even alive to tell the tale: how Yunjin is completely destroyed by your shaft. Her hair frazzled, eyes half open and head tilted towards shame and in the closest iteration of a cocksleeve it could get. She’s so fucked into oblivion where it’s worth having served the verdict. The last moments of light that you want to keep forever, stay as long as you can.
When her lips meet yours, sweeping: a part of you starts to break beneath the cracks.
She’s trying so hard to keep a hand to your waist, then the counter, but you’re holding with every bottom out at the base and you entertain the idea where you could go any deeper, fuck her harder-
“Just-” she pleads, into your mouth, right on your tongue. “Yours. All yours. Fuck me like it’s the only thing that matters-”
“Jen,” you groan out raggedly, lock your elbows to her chest, matching the drag of her nails.
“Gonna cum so much,” is what you think she says. “Look at you, such a good boy.” Her pointer finger grazes the line of your jaw. “Plugging me full, I know you love it,” she dryly laughs, lightly pinching your hip when she hears the hint of a squelch of your cock sliding back in her, “this big, fucking cock,” and she’s really not helping you in this situation, claiming you as her own, soul snatched with no hope of returning it: “Pumping and pumping until I can’t get enough. Fuck. You’re so good at this, so fucking naughty. Got you all hard and needy for me - pounding my poor little pussy just to set me right,” this girl is fucking demonic, with the stuff that she’s telling you, her body right there in your hands; you haven’t been thinking straight since you’ve gone down on her - that cunt, her pussy lips gliding your cock with her slick soaking you endlessly-
“Shut the fuck up,” is what you manage, a futile attempt to stop her. Like it would ever work at all. “Don’t do that. Don’t do this to me.” It’s impossible. You’re so easy to trick, gullible enough to fall for anything that comes out of her mouth, let her take the advantage and leave you with nothing at the end. She believes that you’ve had your fun, and the turn switches back to her.
“Or what?” Yunjin smiles, nearing bliss. “Wanna cum on me? In me? Use your words, baby boy.”
You swear, or something close to that.
The rush becomes too much to bear, the thought of doing what she exactly wants: pulling your cock out of her tight cunt and paint your load all over her stomach, or- the more addicting idea of burying your dick inside her so deep that your release has a one way trip - you simply just- can’t. You shouldn’t. Not because to play it safe, but you’re safeguarding the responsibility of the filthiness that comes with it - what you could do - what you’ve done to her. Instead, you should throw her onto the floor, on her knees, shove your cock down her dirty mouth and cum in her throat or on her face, watch her clean up the mess you’ve made, press the thick tip of your cock on her plump lips and have her taste the sweetness of you. Have her drink it down until she has those doe brown eyes of hers looking up in acceptance. She’s beautiful: in the most fucked up, soaking, ginger-haired possible way imaginable.
“Let- let me-” you sputter towards a growl, but you can’t keep up with her words and replace it with the pace - how her cunt fits your cock so well like a perfect shoe, lengthy frame detrimental to yours. “Fuck, just let me-”
“Mhm,” she hums, unfazed.
“Fuck this slutty little cunt of yours,” you finally manage, and more of a promise already written; you continue to fuck into her, snap your hips in where your balls start knocking above the pucker of her ass, working your cock along those velvety walls, feel the gush with every squeeze of muscle along her pussy, stretching amazingly with the clench.
“Keep going.” She prods at your waist.
Oh, she knows where this is going. It’s hot. It’s diabolical. It just feels right. You’re convinced that she’s figured you out, but playing dumb on purpose to see you admit it right in front of her. She sees the quick rise and fall of your chest - your shoulders, fingers grasping pale skin as it turns to something crimson, glance at the devilish smile she possesses that severs all the nerves in your brain: you are so fucking down bad for this woman, and you can’t do anything about it.
“Keep-”
“I know,” and you do.
“Love this. Love you. Love everything that’s happening,” says Yunjin, praising. “Tell me all the things- the things you want to do to me.”
“Sweetie,” you gasp at the next firm thrust, “gonna put my cock in your mouth, fuck your throat until you choke,” you snap, madness fully consmed, “fuck your holes full and then-”
Then what? Have her ask to pound her ass? Ride you? Make her scream with the doors wide open? What more could you say or do that isn’t in the cauldron of pure insanity-
“Use me more,” Yunjin sighs, and that’s the crystal clear thought pulled right out of your cock, “take me, grab wherever, I just need- god, your cum- want your cum so fucking much,” each word in that sentence rising an octave, “Cum,” a simple mantra, a demand. Yunjin’s creaming cunt, filling her up whole, you’re gonna burst inside and she’ll happily accept it as a gift, getting off on the sound ripping through your chest, hips bucking, legs tensing, her lower half quivers beneath you; attitude reduced to soft sounds, you taking full advantage with the fall-off imminent.
Some of these things, you can’t afford to think; fucked up as it is, it’s better to revel in the silliness and disregard the common sense.
“Oh fuck,” you hear her breathe, tone low and insanely turned on, her smile already showing she’s won. “Fuck yes-”
But even if you’re splitting her insides apart, a small fraction of control rests within you, feeling the curves of her body ripple, in a slowing rhythm, pound her cunt for one more second and finally give her the reward.
A rope of cum is all she gets on the inside; as for the rest-
“Yes- wait no, fuck- what are you doing?” Yunjin sounds completely in shock for what you’ve committed, snuff the flame out from her pulsing cunt, slide yourself out of the tightness, hold her leg up since she’s too weak to resist. You’re going to hell, but so is she. Painting all over the flat plane of her stomach, coating her pale skin with your cum. “You fucking bitch- that doesn’t belong there,” but she’s too fucked out to do anything about it, and you don’t even bother to dish out a good comeback, let the actions do the talking for you: “Put it back, please, please,” and you do as she says.
It’s a fresh feeling, the way her warmth envelops your soft cock, holding it so nicely as you help her sit back up properly. Mouth back on you instantaneously.
“I’m gonna get back at you,” is what she says against your grazing lips, brushing her cheek along the tip of your nose. Her nails lightly scratch your back, ruffles into your hair. “If you’re up for it, you’ll follow.”
“Challenging me? A bit crude, even for you,” you remark - she grins into your face, slides off the counter, fingers dancing along your slick, softening cock.
A familiar look in her eyes. Telling you, yeah, I know - underlying the surface, but she’s got her entire hand in every crook of your brain, unfaltering: “We’ll see.” Then she says, “Get your ass on the sofa.”
–
If there’s anything you learned about Yunjin: she never backs down from her word.
Oh- and your mouth’s formed in the way she wants it to be. You’ve got it all wrong there, too.
She tells you to keep your hands on the seat, at the sides and on the ready; impulsively, you want to pick up right where you left off from the kitchen, eyes locked between your legs, her head graciously bobbing up and down, vibrations all over the sensitive surface - feeling the pinching cramp in your backside, tensing the muscle, swallowing the opposite end of you with ease.
Her lips stop halfway when you raise your hand a bit too high for her liking.
“Fuck me, Yunjin,” you mutter, watching her sink your cock into her throat. “Don’t do that.”
Yunjin flashes a glare, flutters her eyelids shut, drags her head back up and gasps. Her mouth is one thing. Her hands? They show you no mercy. You’ve been in this scenario before - a lot of times for some quick context, so tonight isn’t any different. She’s working you tightly at your balls and the base, intending to wring you clean of the release you should’ve left inside her. The one-two punch killer enough to leave you paralyzed from the waist down; she runs her mouth on the tip, tongue tracing a vein and the underside, curling her fingers and stroking so delicately-
Yeah. You’re pretty much fucked like this. It’s a losing situation.
Your head falls back while your hips slide forward, turning your body over to her mouth which earns a moan in response. The look on her face is deadly, and the sounds ripping through your chest implicates your high not far to reach. Those fucking plump lips: well parted and sliding all over her spit, moving back up and sinking again, the suction a bit more forceful the second time around, cheeks puffing and hollowing, blinking dutifully.
She knows how badly you want to fuck her face, shove your cock into her mouth and expect a reward in return. Yunjin knows you want to get there, eventually, pulling herself off and twists your shaft, sees the tilt of your chin to the ceiling, relishing the submission.
“So fucking hard,” she grins, examining the mix of her spit and slick all over you, listening to the wet noises she created. “I can’t wait to taste your cum again.”
She’s too good for your own sake, and you can’t fight back on it.
“Be a good little toy and relax,” Yunjin instructs gently. Puckering her lips and slapping your sensitive head all over them. Soft. Lucious. Sinful. Her innocent blinks fail to cover it, nor the fact how pretty she looks with a pensive expression: it’s evil. “Let me take care of you, okay?”
You nod right away and she dives back down. Her tongue rubs around the tip between her lips, flattening to slide you into the softness and sleek feeling of her throat, bathing you with spit when your hips produce the slightest hitch. She’s had enough practice with you - to know how her tongue moves in all the ways she knows you love, easily bottoming the whole length like she has before, determined to hear you groan in rapture, and you do.
“Christ, Yunjin- baby-” you grit, and your head falls back to the head of the couch.
When she sucks, you flex your ankles forward. The mess worsens before it gets better, streams of drool leaking over your cock. She spreads it around with her mouth, her fingers, palm flattening, her lips fully sealed at the root, her nose digging into your waist. You’re amazed and how well she takes you, holding her head down for a few seconds - that’s the personal trial she set for herself: how long she could keep you there, the flex in her neck, gurgling and choking. It’s also dangerous in the fast switch up from the clamp of her throat to the alternating pace of her flushing your cock in and out, deepthroating you to the point where she can feel your whole body twitch. A pressure point, cutting the line until it’s completely severed.
You’re sucking so much air into your lungs, creating a pocket at your waist. She pops her mouth off the tip and has the audacity to cackle in your face.
She’s testing the endurance to it’s limit, her slick hands wrapped well around your shaft when she tends to your balls, getting mouthful of each one and peppering them with licks and kisses, hair pooling over your waist and to your thighs, knowing how good she as at fucking breaking you. There’s no denying that your girlfriend is an irresistible cockslut and personal toy, since the part goes both ways when it’s the right occurrence. Once she’s through the few moments of breathing, her jaw slacks and takes you back in, hearing you huff at the subtle graze of her teeth.
The moan sputters out on impulse as you get careless and place your hand to Yunjin’s cheek, rubbing a thumb below her eye, and you could see the tick at the corner of her mouth break into a smile. She lifts her head up, giggles at the shudder of your thighs when her teeth taps your cockhead. “Aw, are you worked up already?”
“More or less,” you answer, and it’s a sudden moment of grace, a blessing in disguise, mind telling the rest of your body to calm down as she slowly jerks you off. “You know me, I wouldn’t back down on your escapades,” and you moan again when she speeds up the pace, “Seriously, it’ll be on you if I cum like this.”
She kisses your cock and licks. This girl can’t be helped. “What a shame. Hope it doesn’t come to that.”
“We can do this all night if we have to, so why not?”
Yunjin lets out a dry laugh. “We will, don’t worry,” she says, carefully pumping you and swipes her thumb over the slit, seeing the thread of precum bridged across, twisting at the middle. “It’s just been a while since we’ve had a conversation while I gave you head.”
“What’s on your mind this time?” you inquire, playing into the deliberation, “Probably something intriguing, I assume.”
Yunjin blinks, locks her finger and thumb around the base of your shaft. “You think Kazuha’s fucked a cock like this?”
You stare, pondering, it takes a second longer for the question to set in because it’s entirely out of left field. “You’re asking me out of all people? How the fuck would I know? She doesn’t bring those kinds of details up with me whenever we talk about it.”
“But I can’t help but wonder,” Yunjin tuts, hand carelessly sliding around you, nicking her head back. “Have you ever fantasized about your best friend?”
“Yunjin, that’s just weird. Fuck no-”
“Aw, you can be honest with me. You and I don’t keep secrets with her as it is, no need to hide.”
She then tips her head, flickers her eyes up at the heavy sigh your mouth makes when her lips make contact with your cock. Her smile goes even wider, noticing the twitch at your eyebrow, how you’re clenching your teeth and bring your chest up to your shoulders - where she’s managed to work you up with the finesse and enchantment that’s simply exuded from her.
There’s nothing much for you to do except sitting back and let Yunjin take your whole length into her mouth. No notes or objections for her to hear, but the sticky wet sounds slathering your shaft and your body moments away from finally giving the reward she rightfully deserves.
“Pretty fucked up sense,” you’re mumbling your head off, moving wisps of her hair out of her face, thinking less and less as she stuffs her throat of you, keeling and leaning forward to where you’re lifting your ass off the couch. “Shit-”
This is her version of a truth serum, a polygraph; her mouth and hands working beautifully in tandem, her collarbone vanishing into her neck, guiding you to the well-wrapped grip she has with her fingers, fucking you with panache in the hot curves of her throat.
She loves it when you’re like this: bending to her will and getting you off with the tightest fist. Wringing you clean now that you’ve done the hard work.
Her hand cups your balls, nails scratching the ridges. The pace she keeps is relentless, alternating from base to tip so excruciatingly well, twisting and jerking and fucking-
“Mmph?”
“You’d be surprised if I said yes.”
Yunjin slides her mouth off once more, spits the underside, lapping up the slick. “No fucking way. You’ve thought about it before?”
“Predates you, if you want me to be more specific.”
She flashes the same wicked grin you’ve seen before, tongue tracing a path at the root. Pursing her lips when she inhales, taking in the scent. Legitimately, fuck her. Lashes fluttering heavy with the eyelids, pupils dilating and too faded for you to notice. “If it makes you feel better, I came to that conclusion a while back, just didn’t say anything.”
“Were you sparing me?”
Yunjin ticks her lips, still smiling, taking pride at the concurrence. “It is also hot for you to finally confess about her.” Her hand plants firmly at your thigh and you consciously thrust your hips back in, gasping in beautiful bliss. She swallows you back up again, clenching her throat and sealing where you’re blinking a lot more faster this time. That rose colored mouth humming along the skin with every puff of her cheeks, flushing it perfectly like it’s practiced. Her back arches and bends, unfazed with the constant shake of your right leg, all the motions culminating in your muscles and hers, rising and rising-
“Yeah, okay, alright, I’m- holy shit-”
“Mmmphphm-”
Your composure snaps, hand now to her head, a death grip in her hair, fucking her face ruthlessly, drunk at the feeling of her mouth and the obscene gawking noises and the bob of her throat curling your cock, lips smaking and drooling more that you regret not putting a towel on the hardwood floor beneath you two.
It’s incredibly difficult to internalize, let alone imagine the wish you could capture this feeling for eternity, bring it out from a bottle at the shortest convenience. Yunjin doesn’t falter with the moaning, friction slippery and neurons overloaded, delusion finally high and head still to you - plugging her hot mouth full of your cock, sliding in the smooth muscle, throbbing.
She takes another deep breath, earning a palm to her face, gaze wistful and deep into your soul. “You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?”
Damn right you are.
Yunjin doesn’t need to clarify what she said, since she already knew. Instead, the flicks of her wrist are astonishingly meticulous, amazed that you’re rock solid not just because of her, but rather the thought of Kazuha doing the same thing to you, given with the experience.
“I think you’re ready,” she declares, and the sentence alone is loaded with different interpretations.
She doesn’t savor the moment of grace soon after, siphons the breath out of you when she puts her lips back on your cock. Your mind’s no longer there, thinking: Yunjin, Kazuha - the pair doing numerous things to you all at once. Trading your cock between their hot mouths, hands stacked along your shaft, pressing into their slick cunts and watch them keen of being split apart. Yunjin’s sloppy mouth fucking you brings it back to reality, slit leaking and ready to burst. She licks once, twice, thrice, lips wrapped around your cockhead and hand twisting the shaft, aiming in one direction where the load should go.
Your thighs tense, breathing ragged, shoulders back and chest out when her eyes go wide - shocked at the first thread of cum caught in the roof of her mouth. A pillow falls off from the couch as you’re fighting the urge to push her face away from your hips and that’s when it get worse.
It hadn’t been that long since you last came, but the surprise was a welcome one when more shots of white start spilling over your stomach, her hands, her face, on her button nose, your shaft twitching in her hands when she hovers her mouth over your tip and seals it to safeguard remnants of the damage.
“Yunjin, fuck- oh, fuck-”
“Mmm,” she hums gleefully, licking the mess off of you and squinting at the leaking slit, pulsing out more. Your cock softening again and body in a complete mess, fingertips carefully moving on your belly and brain falling in and out of consciousness. “Oh my god. You came so fucking much.”
She nuzzles her face into your side, observing your chest calming down: “didn’t think I had more in me.” And that’s pretty ironic coming from you. “Congrats, babe. Consider me dead.”
“There’s more where that came from,” replies Yunjin, orange hair swirling over your shoulder. “We’re even now.”
Doesn’t get any better than that, really. The score stands at one-to-one.
–
“By the way,” Yunjin starts off again, spent and roughed up on the mattress after going back to back rounds a little less than thirty minutes later. First in the shower and the second on the bed; a restoration to the pecking order, actually on the same page. “She drunkenly confessed to me about it while you were gone one night. Poor girl can’t keep a secret. I felt bad.”
“Her loss, honestly. Sucks to be her for having the issue.”
“You don’t think it’s a problem.”
“Well that depends on your solution.”
“Well,” says Yunjin, expectant. “I was gonna propose-”
(You can kind of see where this is going.)
“-maybe the both of us could- y’know, deal with her as we see fit.”
“Meaning?”
“Emulate a porn plot towards her, the typical one where the girlfriend shares with her best friend.”
You plop on the mattress, tilting your head.
“Like a collaborative effort?” You’re then asking; the thought not too far-fetched, but still brazenly out of her mind. Even for Yunjin’s standards. “What’s worse is the idea of you sharing me? With Zuha? I swear you were possessive about me, where did that go?”
Yunjin bends her leg up against yours, brushing a thigh before her knee nestles at your waist. Nothing but smooth, soft skin just there for you to touch, to feel, and just- right on your lap.
“Consider us sharing. Communal, I guess.” Her brain’s working next to you, then it hits. “A communal cock for the both of us.” She snorts, bursts out laughing once she’s created the twisted hypothesis. “Our cock. Kazuha and I. Please, tell me you’re loving the idea.”
“I don’t hate it,” you’re stating, hand slipping lower to the swell of her ass. There you go again: thinking about Kazuha and Yunjin together. It’s supposed to be a silly theory.
“So, will you help me? Unless there’s something I don’t know about.”
“I’m not really in a position to say no, but I’ll let you do your thing.”
“Take that as a yes, then,” Yunjin rests a cheek along your chest, prompting you to move your other arm around and fully embrace her, paying no attention to her kneecap pressing up against your balls, “you wouldn’t want to hear my plan to get our girl set up for what’s coming?”
“You can brief me sometime later.” Another thing added to the agenda, with the rest of the responsibilities filling up your notifications and inbox. “Unless you want to surprise me.”
Yunjin squints her eyes, purses her lips at you the next second; fingers dancing along your jaw, your throat. “If that’s what you want,” she concurs, retrieving your hand to her hip. “One more for the night?”
“Don’t blame me if you can’t walk the next morning.”
And so she gets herself off like that. Your cock in Yunjin’s hand and pressed up against the skin, feel the rush of her pussy lips coating you in slick. Her fingers too dainty and delicate, precise at the touch. You’re alternating from slipping inside her hot cunt - eventually stuck between her impossibly tight thighs crushing the shaft.
Your throat and hers rumble low, locking legs and letting the hinged hips do their own thing, listening to each other’s nuances of groans and curses and names traded until the overdue exhaustion following the pleasure washes over you two. Yunjin’s face is dazed, relaxed and satisfied with the spill between her legs, her whole body wrapping around you; conserving the heat in any way she can - even if it means to sink your cock back into your cunt.
You’re hoping the next wet dream you have turns into reality.
–
A quick look into the inner lens of manifests and proclamations: most of the intents are put in a good light. Speak it into existence and great things will soon come its way - that type of thing.
When you want something - you’re holding your breath for what’s to happen.
As for Yunjin, it’s quite the opposite:
“Imagine all the ideas you could have if you just- let it happen?” She’s on your back and flipping pancakes, breath tickling your ear and putting her down becomes a favorable option than the latter. “Look at it this way, Party A can only take action if the conditions are met in agreement with Party B.”
“Please allow me to ask, but who the fuck is Party B?” You swivel in place and swing Yunjin’s long legs around the kitchen, the wrap of her arms hooking deeper at your neck.
“I’m not answering that,” Yunjin says, foot to your thigh and altering your attention to a low-ponytailed Kazuha sitting across, ready and raring to go for her run.
Kazuha looks dumbfounded, lost, predictable. “What are you guys talking about a Party B?”
“Huh?” you and Yunjin say in unison.
“Huh?” Kazuha repeats the utterance.
Then all three of you say: “What?” Queue the laugh track - somebody, please.
“Enough of this,” you declare, setting Yunjin down so she can finish cooking the meal. You glance at the glowing screen of your phone, see a few new messages pop up, and a notification from one of the places you applied to. “Crap,” you then say, realizing what’s on the attachment, “It got moved up?! Gotta run.”
“You too, hm?” Kazuha chides, with an eye smile and a slice of banana in her mouth. “Cute.”
“Make sure you bring your lunch with you, honey!” Yunjin yells while you blitz back into the bedroom to get changed. “Can’t own the interviews on an empty stomach!”
–
Various managers you keep in touch with praise your skills and determination, saying that you would be a good fit for the team. It’s a waiting game now; only a matter of time before someone steps forward, claims you as theirs.
Some places you’re fielding calls from, shortening the list. You’re forwarding it back to home base: hit or miss for today’s adventures, thinking about taking either minnie’s offer or sian’s.
Yunjen 💟: i loooove sian! miss that girl so much (;-;)
Yunjen 💟: pls say yes to her next time, for me? 🥺
🍑: u forgot ur water bottle at home, idiot 🥸
You: great, now i gotta wash it because you touched it
🍑: you’re really bout it today, huh?
🍑: i’m gonna kick your ass when you get back
You: please, whatever you throw, i’ll catch
Yunjen 💟: aw, i won’t be there to see you school her in mario kart again 😭😭😭
🍑: if i can beat your ass at racing, jennifer, i can def beat him
🍑: u think too low of me.
Yunjen 💟: you two play nice now, i’ll be back by dinnerrrr
Yunjen 💟: let me know how it goes
–
Kazuha greets you at the door, sighing with disappointment, like she owns the place - that’s partly true: she pays for half the rent but always forgets until you remind her.
“What’s with the look?” you ask flatly.
“Nothing,” she shrugs, face tugged to a scowl. “Just thought that you’d be back in high spirits after landing the job.”
“Results don’t come that fast,” you remark, following her in the apartment, feet scruffing and leggings skin tight around her figure. Hair clumped together after being tied for a long period. “They said that they’re gonna do one more week of evaluations and see from there.”
“Meaning?”
“I get the job, which means more money; if not, we keep looking.”
Kazuha chuckles, settling herself on the couch with her legs curled, watches as you drop your things and join soon after. “Is this the part where I ask how your day was like old times?”
“Zuha, I’m gonna walk right out that door if you do. Please don’t.”
“Not even this once?”
You stare at Kazuha’s delighted wink, rolling her eyes back and cringing. “Well shit, my day hasn’t been that interesting either, thanks for asking.” She says, palm sliding down her face with a sheepish smile. “Can’t even have drinks until Yunjin gets back.”
“What’d you suggest we do for the meantime?”
Kazuha grabs the controller, treating it like a deck of cards for a party trick. She lifts her eyebrows, tempting.
“You weren’t kidding.” you say, amazed.
“Unless you have a better idea,” she drawls, shaking it to double down the offer. “What, too much of a pussy to play me?”
“You’re on. Give me the other controller.”
–
Full disclosure aside.
Moments like these with Kazuha have always been the usual bread and butter for you two to bond over on. With the amount of years carried in between - part of you has imagined what it would be like if the relationship label found its way to you two instead of the opposite.
(You remember it vividly, the brief period was short lived for a few months after keeping the emotions at bay for a long ass time. Going into high school was the usual phase where the feelings aren’t exactly certain, and eventually change. She could’ve left you out of her life then, but didn’t. Attached wasn’t the right word you or her would say, though, you’re glad she stayed either way.)
Even after she started to come out of her shell, be talkative, get more active, fit in clothes that make you and every other horny guy on campus drop their jaws at, she’s still the same girl you met back in kindergarten: a true friend at your side going places, while also doing stupid stuff for the fun.
“This goddamn blue shell, I swear to god-”
As for you, well- you’ve got tunnel vision, deathly locked to the screen, blocking all outside noise and focusing on the mario character and the amount of asphalt you got on the tires. Kazuha was all up in your ear, talking about how she managed to build a gap after a poor start on your end with the amount of bananas being tossed up track and dropped along the kerbs. She also thought racing at 200cc was a great idea - when in reality she’s only raced nothing above 50cc.
She’s using every trick in the arsenal: the hand to your face, kicking your side; hell, even covering your end of the screen if it meant being in last place. Her definition of victory was seeing you not succeed.
All in all, it was a good way to have fun.
“I’ve been meaning to ask,” she asks, when she’s fully calmed down and actually playing properly. “That night where you had to pick me up from the kickback,” her body leaning with the steering motion of the kart when the controls were strictly to the joystick. “No one told me I didn’t get hooked up with anybody.”
“Because you didn’t.” you say tiredly. Explaining the gauntlet she gave you to bring her back home safely.
You’re finishing first ahead of Kazuha - the girl can’t drive in real life as it is.
Her legs cross over yours, paying no attention to the spread of her toes and flex of her calves. Heel grazing your crotch before resting along your thigh, fighting the urge to break composure and adjust yourself. “Hmph, that’s a shame. Since you did see me drunk after all-”
“Happens multiple times than I would like to count,” you’re saying mildly, glancing, “I was also hoping that Sakura would take you home instead of Eunchae calling me.”
“Is that what happened?” Kazuha asks, and it abrupts your thoughts quickly. “Sorry- I know I asked the morning after but - still don’t remember much.”
You look away, down to your hips. Your mind and body clearly not in sync.
Which begs the question: “So, what do you actually remember? From that night?”
The answer she gives goes in one ear and out the other. Vividly telling you the details.
“You’re not very slick about me; you know that, right?” Kazuha concedes. And you agree, completely cornered.
“What do you want me to do about it?”
“Gonna keep talking?”
“Please, I can do more than just talk.”
Kazuha bites her lip, pulls her legs back, shakes her head, the intent easy for you to read. There’s a few shared secrets with her you’d like to keep.
What’s one more thing to hide from Kazuha and Yunjin?
–
Think of it this way, racing’s got a lot to offer: the thrill, the rush, the risk. Kazuha loves to put you in the dust; always making you chase until you’ve got one over her. She’s screwed you over in other lifetimes - including this one - but, it’s worth noting the exception: a rare occasion where you’re back at the starting line and finishing all the same.
Kazuha doesn’t look over her shoulder often; disregards the terror she leaves behind without a care, and you ought to remind her where it lands as soon as you can.
“Jesus christ-” is what leaks out of her lips, biting down another moan in her throat. You cup her chin and force the look up, hands slipping on the glass. “Your fucking cock is just-”
Amazing? Well, she took the words from Yunjin, and you know.
It’s extravagantly fucked up: turning back time as if it was yesterday - you’re railing her in the shower, warm water falling from above, steam fogging up beneath.
She sure knows how to make you shut up, just like old times, and a small part of you wishes how things might’ve been different if you or her if you said something back then, but you’ll let your bodies do the talking - her cunt clenching around your shaft, skin rippling the water off with every wet slap in, hand reaching for your thigh for stability. You’re just holding on and having her do most of the work in throwing her ass back, begging you for more, press her against the wall, take your cock like she always does - she may treat you like shit in the most affectionate way possible, but that layer is stripped entirely if her heart and mind allowed it. You’re going to fuck her pretty cunt, make her remember that night where she got herself off with you watching and act like nothing happened despite the raw marks of red on her creamy skin.
That too, and she’ll be a pain in your ass still: “What’s wrong? Worried Yunjin will walk in on us?”
“Kind of counting on it,” you relent, and she hunches. You pull her back up and feel her breath hit your chin. “Who knows? Maybe she’d want to join us.”
“You think so?” Her arms flush with the tile.
“If you’ve forgotten,” you manage, bracketing her waist - grip hard enough to make her yelp, and you’re loving every second. She’s a brat and a bitch and a slut rolled up into one; someone who has no care for others, except - oh, right; you’ve put up with it long enough. It’s the perfect opposite. “You’re the one who made the first move.”
“That’s bullshit and we both know it,” she denies, dishonored and deflective, so you drag your hips and push back in, grab her face, watch her jaw go slack. “Oh god. Baby, yes-”
The water’s streaming down her chest, her abs, spraying off to the walls and glass - you snake your hand to her neck, a muscle memory: everything else is an easy line to follow.
One of her legs are lifted for you to hook, so that you can reach the familiar angle you’ve lost the feeling for too long, where you’ve made her scream, swear out more obscene stuff. She’s bracing herself along the wall properly when you’ve slid your cock back inside her; she’s groaning a lot louder now, tensing, moaning - you’re supporting her and she’s taking it like you promised, her head bobbing all over the place, mouth canted, skin flushed hot-pink. A smile breaks at the corner of her lips. It’s the easy position, the natural flow of motion, keeping pace, a simple solution to a problem - all of the qualifications applied in different situations. Except, your hands find themselves on the rise of her hips, ass hypnotizing you all over your eyes; she’s leaking on your cock, cunt split open and ready to ruin - and you think you’ve finally won the argument, somewhere hidden past the heavy breathing.
“Fuck- fuck me. Oh- shit- ah-” spills out, and it’s another win to take in, soaking the moment of bliss - that’s so fucking good, i’ve missed this so much, keep going, yes- right there, harder - she’s lost her mind entirely.
You shouldn’t be grinning wickedly, but you are - it’s relieving in bend a girl like her to your will who can’t hold herself to the end.
“The worst kind,” she’s huffing, gasping, mewling, trying so hard to keep her posture up while you work her towards the orgasm she’s been asking for since her feet skimmed over the bulge in your pants, playing it off like nothing terribly as it’s a routine for her. You’re aware that she’s probably touched herself while you and Yunjin fucked throughout the night. The walls around here are thin as it is, and so much for that.
You don’t let up, fucking her hard and fast, like she wanted - praising you for finally breaking that unspoken rule left behind years ago and promise to keep it on the low. You and her both knew it would happen again eventually. How could you not? Just one little change of impulse and you’re on the one way track to hell.
(Don’t act like this wasn’t your doing, either.)
“I don’t hate,” she says, urging, whining and whimpering and you’re dying to hear more of it for her - “please, just- it’s incredible, I fucking love it, this fucking cock- all for me-”
You grab a handful of her slick hair and yank, watch the arch in her spine rise, the fluttering eyelids and shape of her mouth. Kazuha drops her jaw even lower and winces when you pound her pussy deeper; the imaginary line in your head fades with the steam. She’s clenching tightly around your shaft, and you know that this won’t be a singular occurrence. She’s gonna be coming back for more, becoming addicted, clingy. “You like? S’that feel good?” you’re asking anyway, waiting to hear the same answer.
You want this to last. Her cunt quivers around your length, clamping. You’ve fucked her through the first orgasm, onto the second or third, neither of you are keeping track - you’re chasing for your own - but there’s a sense of grandeur to this, in addition of the gratification to the reward from watching how astonishlingy you can dick her down and put her back in her place.
Kazuha’s putting effort where it counts. Says: “Need- I need it- fucking christ, please, do it already-” And - fuck, not in a polite way, but good note for trying.
Kazuha sobs along with a low huff that’s one of the hottest things you’ve heard from her in a while - a long time - contracting and expanding and clenching around you. Great job, baby. You did a good job keeping up with me. I don’t mind you cumming first. I’d prefer to finish second. Holy shit, you don’t realize how long it’s been since you stepped in the shower, mind focusing on Kazuha and legitimately nothing else.
“Shh, shh,” you’re saying, a finger to her lips, feel her tongue run against the side of it - and the nod is small, but you’re thinking ahead to what she’ll do next.
You pull yourself out and slap the tip on her pussy lips, listen closely to the squelch when you slip in again, deeper. You can’t tell if the water on her face is from the shower head or her tears, trickling down as her mouth meets yours. God, her kisses are just like the first ones.
“Gonna cum again?” you ask, delicately. “You are. Let it out.”
And Kazuha can breathlessly say yes without the words - she’s cumming, cumming, and wants to show you how badly. You could spend a few more minutes here, conserve the water. Paying the bill and next rounds of games can wait.
–
There’s no complexity behind it. The sun comes up and the world still spins.
Some days, Kazuha flutters to you - bare cunt underneath her shirt and you’re catching a second glance. Slaps your ass like every other time and expects you to bring it up later. Which you do.
Or-
You’re taking her by surprise, as some lousy excuse to pin her down on the nearest hard surface within reach, perch her hips up to yours until you have to carry her to the shower or bed - only for the mess to come back around again. She tugs the ends of the panties, faintly smacking on her skin, wiggles her perky ass and touches her hair - bundles it up in her hands, her slender back towards you and another spot to deal with some other time.
“You sure you don't want Yunjin to know?” She asks, snapping you out of your daydream.
With a quirk of your lips, “Maybe she already knows. But if I speak, I’d be in big trouble.”
Kazuha tsks. “So wrong for you to leave her out of the fun.” To be fair, she’s more right than wrong. If you were honorable enough to tell the truth, you could’ve told Yunjin to commensurate something with the shared dynamics - albeit way more confusing than it is, because it’s all just for fun, a wacky journey with no destination.
A rerun of you, fucking Kazuha into puddled pile of pure putty, watch her eyes shimmer when you cum in her mouth, in her hair, paint her pussy with your mess and see her relieved - a deal slipped under the table, unspoken. Yunjin might’ve swapped roles with her in being gullible or oblivious to the signs now - or even back then, you’re not quite convinced. Bottomline: you’ve missed this version of Kazuha. It’s a nice switch up and a way to disconnect and destress from the pressures of the outside world, sheltering and confining yourself since that’s always the best option to have - besides, there’s some work to do still: you got the notice of the final evaluation, from both jobs at the top of your list, somewhat nerve wracking. You’ll have to make a decision, find what fits best for you, which one pays more. Maybe get a second opinion from Yunjin or Kazuha.
You’ll figure it out as you go along.
–
When you do ask Yunjin about your little dilemma, part of her attention is on you - at a distance.
She’s too busy watching Phantom of the Opera after you ate her cunt out while her hourly reading earlier in the day, only because she kept teasing you underneath the desk while on call with the same friend who managed to land a position at their new job. Relax, they’re saying at the time, don’t worry too much and just be ready for what’s to come.
“Huh? Sorry, ask me again,” Yunjin’s telling you, chin on her shoulder and glances over at you at the kitchen preparing dinner. “The actress’s high note caught me off guard.”
Kazuha laughs, sitting on the counter and at your side, peeling off lettuce for her salad - proximity minimized to where your hand’s grazing her thigh. “Are you sure Sian’s job is the right one for you?” she asks, rephrasing the question as her own. “I mean, you say you liked the offer from her.”
“Possibly,” you answer, slicing a carrot, placing the knife down. “She told me she’ll call sometime tomorrow to confirm.”
“Makes sense,” Yunjin supplies. “Good pay. Office isn’t far, convenient. Also on the fact that she’s pretty to be a manager or in charge? Heavy on the pretty, though.”
“Right,” you agree, looking at Kazuha, fingers slipping over the rise of her thigh and in. You quirk your eyebrow in suspicion, noticing the lack of underwear (once again) and her folds already soaking. “She really is pretty.”
Kazuha bites her lip, dips her head down.
“I think I've made up my mind,” you say, pushing- sliding deeper in, quirk your lip in a ‘shh’ so that Kazuha can keep her voice low. “Might’ve been a pure choice from the start.”
“You think so?” Yunjin says, puzzled. “That was easy.”
You and Kazuha both give a confused look at her. Knuckles curled in Kazuha’s walls, inconspicuous and hidden - a familiar reflex and motion of the hand. She’s so slick for you, it’s unfathomable. A whimper rumbles within her chest, and you cough loudly to cover the sound.
Yunjin glances over for a third time. “Everything okay there?”
Kazuha sniffles, seamlessly playing along without a proper cue. “The onions,” you’re saying, sheepishly grinning like a dumbass. “Zuha got the first wave of them.” To that, Yunjin laughs, wiggling her head the other direction. “Should’ve been helping me over here instead.”
“I would,” replies Yunjin, waving her hand up in the air. “But my legs have lost their feeling. Wonder whose fault is that.”
You shrug your shoulders and carry on your work at the counter.
–
You’re fielding calls from the shortlist, waiting for one contact.
Then the phone rings.
Greetings are exchanged and it’s right down to business: “Drop by the office later. It’ll be brief, I promise. Just checking in one last time on how you feel about the offer.” Sian’s telling you. “Apologies for making you wait.”
“Nonsense,” you’re beaming, swiping through your belongings and whatever you can fill in your hand. “Wasn’t doing much besides keeping myself busy.”
Soon you’re on the way out of the door, noticing a box next to your shoes. You don’t remember ordering anything in the past few days, so that theory is eliminated automatically. Yunjin’s made her way to see you off, arms crossed and partially excited.
You pull your phone away, pointing to the package. You’re mouthing the curiosity, and Yunjin nods. There’s not much to assume: it’s probably a new batch of books for her to read, or some clothes. You don’t suspect much.
“Yeah, yeah. I’ll be on my way now. See you soon.”
–
(The interview goes exactly as Sian said it would.
She’s telling you about the perks about the office and benefits within the first few months. They’re all really good, you can’t deny that. Not to mention the signing bonus. You can’t stop smiling at the new opportunity, ecstatic for what’s in store.
You’re driving home later and feel like the sun’s burning a little bit brighter than usual - clouds filling up the endless blue sky.
An attempt is made to call Yunjin, but no answer. You try Kazuha too, no luck.
There’s the simple assumption that they’re both busy and they’ll see the missed calls before you get back.
A cleared schedule opens up a lot of things.)
–
Everything seems a lot easier when there isn’t a weight on your shoulders, relieved of stress and the only current worry is hobbling back to your bed and sleeping there for the rest of the day. You click the deadbolt out of place and swing the door open, letting yourself in. “I’m home,” you’re calling out, slipping out of your shoes and the bag gets placed next to the small table where the keys go. “Genuinely thought it was going to take longer-”
You freeze your movements when you hear the spill of moans close by.
Because you peek the corner like a kid waiting for Santa Claus - but instead of seeing a red man placing gifts and stealing milk and cookies, you see Kazuha leaning back on the kitchen counter, sitting on the chair with someone else on top of her, leaving fresh marks it could be mistaken of her being bitten from a vampire - the person on top presses her hips up, diving down to her neck, pushing and yanking before you realize she’s getting fucked by-
“Yunjin, what the fuck!?” you exclaim.
Yunjin rests her head on Kazuha’s chest, fingers clasping to her shoulder - you’ve seen that wicked look on her face before, devilish and corrupt. Now, in your place: it’s Kazuha pulling her close, tilting her head back when Yunjin shifts her hips up between Kazuha’s legs, dragging out another moan.
“Welp, I guess we got caught,” says Yunjin, and her strap-on slips out of Kazuha in one simple pull.
Clearly, you’re confused, bamboozled. Yunjin’s coming back to her senses as she swipes a hair behind her ear, playing the innocent role poorly and none of it makes sense, at all. Your girlfriend and roommate - roommate and girlfriend, and you start to remember-
“Thought I said that I wasn’t finished,” Kazuha sputters, oblivious of your presence. She’s sitting back up on the chair and clinging to the edge of the counter. “You told me that I’ll have my turn with the strap when you’re done - we barely started.” She’s hitting Yunjin’s arm, hair falling over and panting erratically. “Yunjin, please-”
“Zuha,” Yunjin taps Kazuha’s shoulder, flicks a finger towards you - authoritative and calm. “I think we have other things to worry about. Also hey hi, I didn’t hear the door open or you walk in.”
“Well I did,” you say, walking further inside and assessing the scene. Kazuha then sees you in her view and her jaw drops, both shocked and disappointed. “Didn’t want to interrupt your fun little session going on here.”
“She knows about-” Kazuha tries to speak, covered by Yunjin’s hand, and stops her sentence.
“You? Us?” you ask.
“Should’ve told me sooner,” Yunjin butts in, unimpressed with a smirk. “I didn’t expect you’d have a headstart with my suggestion.”
“Guilty as charged.”
“Mmfph,” Kazuha tries to say, but the press of Yunjin’s hand is a lot more firm. She’s lost her talking privileges for now. This wasn’t even the worst bit of this incident, you think.
You’re sighing, undecided, at a crossroads: two girls on your shoulders with very similar, contrasting perspectives and ideals. Yunjin’s the purest of angels in human form, Kazuha the devil’s advocate living in your house. The thought of you being walked in by Kazuha with Yunjin on your cock was a thing of the past. With Yunjin’s strap filling up Kazuha-
“How do you suppose we deal with her?” You’re asking, playing into the role of second fiddle to Yunjin’s wishes, wherever she wants to take them, burying your nose into her hair and looking down at Kazuha’s eyes light up in excitement.
“I think you can help me with that,” declares Yunjin, and for the thousandth time it’s something you’re following through. “Give this girl a proper work up for once.”
“With pleasure.”
“But first-”
“First?”
Kazuha’s body tenses. “Mmrph??”
Yunjin’s head dips, licking her lips. Her fingers tap the fabric of your crotch. “Not yet,” she sighs, and she’s teasing the pink head of plastic on Kazuha’s folds. “Actually,” Yunjin’s hearty laugh gives you an idea where this is going, and it’s not looking pretty. “We’re gonna have you watch.”
–
Where do you even begin with these two? That’s the golden question.
Think of it this way, a coming of age story would have all the highs and the lows, a sunset drive into the horizon with the top down and music blasting for everyone else to hear, romanticizing both the achievements and shortcomings of each character, tossing snacks to each other and clinking glasses while letting the end credits roll.
Kazuha and Yunjin, however, lock lips at the couch; you’re breathing deep - you’re slipping down the chair, not quite shameful that you’re not in the act.
Maybe it’s the fantasy written up in your head - in its purest form and in real time. The ambiance settling down to a space meant to be locked away; shelved behind a drawer and door, never to be seen in the light of day, exclusively for your eyes only.
Yunjin tilts her head one side with Kazuha on the other, playing along well. Everything about it is down to the last vivid detail: her fingers carding into her hair, gripping, pulling her head up so Kazuha can get more air - slip an arm underneath the arching back and bring her leg up against her heat. You give Yunjin a look when she locks eyes with you, paying no attention to Kazuha peppering her cheek with more kisses and clearly asking for more, giggling as she indulges her request. Their hands trailing all over their unclad bodies, miles of skin between them. They both sigh in relief, finally showing what they cherished the most with each other. There’s no regrets of your actions: you’ve got a piece of Yunjin - what she’s like, same for Kazuha from another period lost to time, but it’s all culminated to this. Soon you’re towering the pair and see the crimson and sweat spread across, willing to have your fill be satisfied by both.
If your sympathy was a knife, you’d turn the blade around and twist it inside yourself.
Kazuha’s hand grips the belt loop, grinning. Yunjin tugs your hand to her face, kissing it. Wraps her plump pretty lips on your thumb. An unspoken testament of what’s to come. The credence of raw, unfiltered, sin.
“Is this what you wanted?” Yunjin asks, very silently. Kazuha opens her neck up as an invitation.
“Oh,” you breathe, softly. Kneeling down at the couch and exchanging glances. “You have no idea.”
(Show me everything. Show us everything, they said, partially devious. How bad your impurities are. We want it all. We deserve it all.)
–
Maybe all of this was the long-awaited culmination; Kazuha’s mind is so far gone, back pinned against the wall like she knows you and Yunjin are about to ruin every part of her body. Clothes are being slipped off your frame, pooling onto the floor and soon to be ignored till the next morning. Yunjin’s hands graze your middle, feeling the hardened muscle - sighing into your neck and flashes a look across.
“Should I know how long you two kept this from me?” she asks, half-curious. Well aware of the answer.
You keep your gaze on Kazuha while pulling your head back - observing, but flicking your eyes back and forth. “Would it be best to hear it from the person responsible?” you say, seeing Kazuha’s face shift from her to yours and unsure who to choose.
“Figured there were signs,” Kazuha answers, lifting her leg up at the crease of her knee, giving an implication. It’s not a pressure point - not yet, at least - an angle where you can jump in and double down on. “If they weren’t obvious enough.”
“Are we seriously playing dumb here?” Yunjin then follows up, twisting her head. “Right now? Of all times?”
“Choose your words wisely,” you’re saying, towering over the girl in your arms - a subtle warning.
“You’ll be a good girl, yes?” Yunjin adds. “Then we’ll see if you deserve it.”
Kazuha snickers, sound bouncing off the hallway, and you and Yunjin both sigh in dejection - though, Yunjin slaps Kazuha’s thigh, prompting you to pin her lower half to the drywall. “I see we’re at a bad start already,” she’s saying, and her arm slithers up to your chest, “you keep acting like this, Zuha, we’re gonna have some issues. Not to mention,” she’s rambling, taking a step back to open the space in flipping Kazuha around with her back in view, arms up instinctually and hips moving back, Yunjin’s arms crossed over her chest with the strap-on in her hand, instigating. “I think it’s best if he takes the first crack in breaking you.”
“How generous,” you tell her, leaning down to kiss the fine line of Kazuha’s spine. “I thought you’d be more cruel.”
Yunjin grins, finger to her teeth. “That’s more of your thing rather than mine.”
“Liar,” you growl, and it’s a small reveal of your true intent, bringing them close and never letting go - your arm pulls Yunjin back in, gasping at the sudden move. Yunjin giggles, teetering into a small moan; you look down and she takes the hint in feeling Kazuha’s ass, listening to the hitched breaths, see the slightest scrunch of her shoulder. “Don’t think that you can hide away from me, either,” And you slap your hand firmly on the fresh skin, Kazuha slipping out a yelp in response - “I know you want your fun as well, baby.” Your thumb and index pinch both of her cheeks, squishing. “Unless you’d prefer to watch.”
“You know me. I’ll have my go if you’re willing.”
“I’m still down here,” interrupts Kazuha. “Why don’t you-”
Here was the perfect time to show Kazuha again what you’re made of - you grip both of your hands to the swell of her hips, pushing them up until all of her chest is flush with the wall in front - her hand flies back to yours; clawing the skin on your arm, your hips-
“Watch it,” you snarl, grabbing her wrist and putting it along the small of her back, hoping to break the tension. Technically, she’s doing the opposite.
She squirms in your hands for a few more seconds, resisting. The grunts coming out of her mouth don’t apply to you; Kazuha’s feet skating across the floor, widening the stance, spilling out pleas-
“Fucking swear to God,” she harshly swears, and you’re with her; Yunjin’s taking another step back, leaning. She can’t help but smile at the authority, the general hierarchy you’re used to giving her. Throwing out orders and demands - Kazuha with her insightful snarks, nowhere to be heard or seen as she’s finally getting a taste of her own medicine-
Both of Kazuha’s arms are behind her back. She’s helpless once you’ve finally got a hold on her.
“How long is it gonna take you to fuck me or force me to watch you fuck Yunjin instead?” she whines, persistent. Her hands cup the sides of your hips, pushing her ass back - you don’t fight it, laser focused on her face. “Didn’t realize that we’re dishing out my punishment like this right off the bat.”
“We’re getting there,” you agree, and you’re palming her breast beneath the shirt, clumping up the fabric - thumbing a nipple and pinching. “Yunjin will have her fun too when I’m done with you.”
You look right at Yunjin and she nods.
She’s keeping herself occupied with the strap-on in her hand, putting her pouty lips on the silicone tip, licking shamelessly and her other hand to her legs - cheeks flushed in a hot pink and eyes trained on you. You’d expect her to watch - let her have her own fun in the meantime. She’s so good; fucking you and Kazuha both, though it’s somewhat on par or incomparable to the roughing up you’re gonna do to Kazuha as a means of staying true to your word. Her tongue laves the side of plastic, lowers it down to her hips, hoping to tease and have that ache sated until her turn comes along to be taken, fucked mercissely, ruthlessly.
You lift a brow for the final confirmation, and Yunjin matches it.
“You can watch of course, baby,” you say, and Yunjin’s face lights up. “Go ahead, do what you need to do.”
Yunjin twists her back to the wall, head tilted while her legs spread wider to welcome the space of the strap-on between her legs - you’ve curled your arm around Kauzha’s hip, rub her clit from that angle, stroking slowly at her leaking slit; so yeah, this girl leaks sex. As for you: you’re eating it up. Knowing that there’s another pair of eyes on you, greedily staring once you get on one knee, place a trail of kisses to the backside of Kazuha’s thigh, bundle up the oversized shirt in your hands. You hook your palms to the fold of her legs, brush your nose in her cunt, taste the droplets on your tongue-
“Are we observing?” You ask Yunjin. “Not the first time I’ve seen you use a dildo in front of me.” Your mouth sucks in the dripping slick of Kazuha’s pussy, earns you a sharp inhale through her teeth. Biting down on one of her folds and pulling. “I wanna see you ruined before I have the chance myself.”
Your gaze shifts back to Kazuha because you know Yunjin will follow whatever you say. Even when your cock is brushing up against Kazuha’s slit, pushing in her pussy and the girl sings a broken note.
Kazuha, by instinct, tilts her head down, overwhelmed, choking on the bob in her throat; all it takes is one firm snap of your hips in and it’s not enough time to get accustomed to the stretch - that deep, open stretch, her cunt pressuring you so tight, addicting - you’re amazed at how she can pick up things quickly, breathing steadily with every stroke, see her eyes at the corners, upping the intensity, twisting her head back forcefully and curve the arch a bit more deeper-
A makeshift ponytail is created without a second thought, locking the stare in and keeping it frozen, failing to maintain composure when she’s moments away from finally breaking in front of you, or Yunjin. Kazuha’s pride is always one thing she holds close. Snuff it out of her and there’s nothing, and she can’t deny it: the way that she’s trying so hard to not be a completely needy, slutty bitch.
“What’s wrong, huh?” you’re taunting - imitating her snark - man, it’s so nice not to be on the receiving end in one of those. “Wasn’t this the punishment you asked for? Well guess what?” You’re grasping at her cheek that it brushes yours. “It’s here, Zuha. Just me, you, Yunjin, and your dirty little cunt, all for us to have.”
“All talk, still,” Kazuha remarks, syllables barely stable. She’s so shrunk down over your presence that when your cock is in play, it splits her body in two, crumbling her: she can spit out words for days, but knows that she’s vulnerable in a fight. “You’re not even putting effort into me. Fucking christ- asshole. Just-”
You can’t help but chuckle - actually laugh, because the insults don’t hurt like they used to back then, that added layer in the dynamic where you’ll take the punch and send it right back. You’re slamming your hips in, press your fingers into her hip; Kazuha can keep giving you shit, but you see her head hit the drywall, eyes lidded and mouth quirked to keep it all in. There’s no point - she’s gushing on your cock, clamping.
“Just what?” You yank her hips out and in, make her yelp at the change in pace. “Stop? Keep going? I can’t tell what you’re asking for and neither can Yunjin.” Yunjin herself lets out a breathy sigh - the strap-on’s worked well inside her cunt, matching the strokes as best she can; at this point, you’re just waiting for her to squirt on the floor. “Could’ve sworn you were greedy a few days ago when I fucked you in the back of the car, don’t lie to me.”
“Maybe.” You slide in - genuinely fucking her. Kazuha tries to let it go casually the way you’re cock’s tearing inside her - you’ll give her the ‘A’ for attempting. That feeling can’t be ignored - she’s close, rising within - it’s in the lines of her face, her body, it’s showing. “Fuck - that’s not the point. I couldn’t be more desperate for your cock unlike Yunjin.”
She’s not saying it for Yunjin’s sake, but also for her own: smiling through the pleasure despite her body nearly shutting down and breaking on your cock. All that ego, that bullshit given all these years, it’s all gone in an instant. It was a pipe dream to fuck the boldness out of her - you’ll come close, but not close enough. You’ll fuck her truly in the way that she wants - and the glint over her shoulder pierces through your eyes. Do your worst, you imagine her saying. I’d love to see you try.
So, you’ll give exactly the worst thing to her. You’ll make her cum on your cock.
You let go of her face, grab her tit before sliding down to her pussy. “Look at you,” you tell her, matching the smirk she gave you on the couch the other day, recalling, “nowhere to go.”
Kazuha parts her mouth, ready to dart back with a witty response - or tries to - rocked with her high so intense that it’s bubbling in her throat, on her tongue. She’s there, thanks to you; Yunjin’s honoring your request, wincing, sliding that silicone cock inside-
She’s up next, you’re not forgetting. You take Kazuha - all the way in, past her orgasm, let her shoulders go slack, breath in thin wisps, hand losing grip and slipping from your sweat, and you’re grinding your cock deep in her - all the way down to the base, where the blowback of your balls tapping her clit, prolongs the feeling - a new sensation; fuck, she feels so fucking good-
“How do we deal this out, you suppose?” You ask Yunjin, breathless, head held high, breaking your gaze and towards your girlfriend. “Should I carry on what I’m doing?” Kazuha whimpers when you’re massaging her ass, slowly driving your cock back in, softening the blow. “Do whatever our little slut wishes?”
You and Kazuha both glance at Yunjin together, slick dripping down her thighs, small threads plastered on your hips, and Yunjin slides the strap-on out of her like it’s a restraint. Kazuha slides off your cock, leans back to your embrace, legs quivering - you gave her a lot to handle, that’s for sure. But you’re not done yet. Not until Yunjin’s got her chance.
Yunjin herself is treated to such a sight, cum soaked on the plastic in her hand, but when you sweep her close she’s already falling: like she knows you’ll catch her whenever and doesn’t have to worry about a damn thing. You’re eying her eyes, those plump pretty lips, her long legs rivaling Kazuha’s, her leaking cunt - she’s shifting in your arm, like one look sends sparkles in her eyes. She’s waiting, patiently - lets you do anything to her without saying a single word.
“Enjoyed the show, love?” You’re scratching the sweet spot behind her head and her neck relaxes. It’s those earthy eyes you can’t get enough of, love drunk and over her head with her switch flipped - hot and crazy in love she’ll want everything. “How does it feel seeing lovely little Zuha finally get humbled?”
“I’ll literally cut your dick off if you don’t shut your fucking mouth,” retorts Kazuha, twisting her neck so she could face you. No matter how much of a pain in the ass she is while getting fucked, she’ll own that role close to her heart.
Yunjin flashes a smile, and you smile back. Coming to a consensus. “Not enough for her, sadly.”
Kazuha takes advantage for once, hurling your body against the hallway now, and making you shuffle back past the open door to the room. Yunjin fails at the mediary with her chin on her shoulder, pushing her weight so that the ratio is two-to-one. Both of their eyes are insane, glittering crystals and with a primal ferocity behind them - holy fuck, is it sexy, moments away from victory. Backing you into a corner where there’s no opening for escape.
“Make you eat your fucking words out,” Kazuha says, voice unfazed when she just came on your cock a few minutes ago, “Better hope you won’t get the chance again.”
“Careful Zuha,” Yunjin butts in, hoping to alleviate the tenacious threat. “You wouldn’t want to get on his bad side again.”
“What she said,” you remark - leaving it at that for now.
“Okay then,” Kazuha tuts, grabbing your face for a kiss, clawing your hair, soothing it. “I’m tagging Jen Jen in.”
With that, Yunjin pushes Kazuha off to the foot of the bed and topples over you, claiming her prize.
There’s a passing of the torch in the form of the strap-on - Kazuha takes it and wiggles on the bed - while you’re wrestling for control with Yunjin, grasping her waist and flipping her over so that she’s under, fingers in familiar spots where you’ve left marks and bruises before - ready to it again. “Guess you’re up,” you mumble - feeling the knuckles of Yunjin’s hand on your face before she fiddles with the cuff of your ear, pinching. You’re surveying the planes of her body, targeting the areas where it’ll hurt. “You could never have enough of my cock as it is.”
An instant curveball when you slap her inner thigh twice, flip her over and slap her ass, then roll back to her cunt.
Yunjin shrieks - Kazuha inhales deep at the sound when she pushes the strap-on in her cunt. You smack again, put your mouth to hers and funnel the noise down your neck. This was new to the script, and you’re certain it’ll stay.
There’s no other pretense to act on, and you bury your cock inside her cunt.
She is fucking dripping; given the mewls and moans petering out of her mouth, your ears focus on the sweet sound of slick as her pussy takes all of you, stretching and sliding in the ways you made her break, the noises heavenly, a symphony alone as you get back into true pace - you’re fucking her cunt so hard that it’s almost snapping her spine in half, or make her lose the feeling in her legs. Ah, you’re just treating yourself - possibly. Kazuha’s fucking herself right next to you two and has a front row seat of the one in many acts about to unfold-
Her pussy is incredible - that’s just the jist of it, the meaning already written to existence long before you came along, Yunjin’s just huffing along, the size too grand to bear-
“Good?” You know for damn sure it’s good. Her neck is a nice place for your hand to rest, siphoning the remaining air trapped in her lungs. The last gasp for more, taken away. “Yeah, you know it’s good. Same kind of sluttiness I expected with Kazuha. What would I ever do without you - getting off with your cunt and fucking you as I please. God, baby- it’s so fucking tight down there, I could never-”
You’re left speechless when you abruptly pull out, slap your cockhead along her clit and she’s gushing everywhere, spraying the sheets, squirting in mere seconds. Kazuha drops her jaw in shock, ecstatic, amazed-
“Kazuha’s in her own world, and she’s living in it,” You snap your hips, yank her body, sending another aftershock - your hands will never leave. “It shouldn’t be this easy, babe - the way that you’re just one, insufferable, cocktease-”
Yunjin crunches her eyes, and her lower half subconsciously rolls with yours. She’s one to have her moment, but the way that she’s just taking it - so fucking well-
“This strap couldn’t fill her enough,” Kazuha chides. And that’s the daunting realization - it’s one thing to keep things mundane, by the book, but this: the degrading, the power going to your head, the advantages you seized for yourself, you’re speaking listless shit and giving less of a fuck for your own benefit. “Now you got a taste of your own medicine, honey. All that talk about having all of him when he clearly has sights for others. Now he’s got me to deal with if you’re not around; and look at him, he’s really greedy.
Yunjin’s sobbing, tears seeping at the corners. You’re close - everything in your body expanding and rushing to the peak - but her scared expression makes you think otherwise, spares a second thought.
“Do you believe that, sweetheart?” You grit, releasing your grip around her throat, leaning for a kiss and it brings her back to life. “Tell us how it feels.”
Kazuha’s scooting closer, the silicon impaled deep in her cunt, tapping her clit at a fast pace. She’s conservative, yet so smug that it’s rubbing on Yunjin instead, the build up is there, voices rising, crescendoing-
“It’s so good, so- fuck, so fucking good,” she spits, mouth trembling and the rest of the words are in tongues - and you’re sure that you’ve broke her once again. “I love this cock so much - I can’t even begin to describe how well it fucks me, taking me just to dump your cum, come back for more - please, don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop-”
On instinct, she taps your thigh. A signal to let you know she has a different play in mind.
You snap your gaze back to Kazuha and she immediately takes the hint, a wicked grin spread on her lips to sell the implied message.
From there it’s a simple one-two, a bait and switch. You slide out of Yunjin’s well fucked cunt and swoop Kazuha’s legs, pulling her over to you while Yunjin staggers back on the bed, taking the strap-on tossed to her so she can simmer down the aching heat engulfing her stomach. You don’t even register the quick inhale Kazuha does when you seamlessly slip back inside her waiting cunt and pick up right where you left off with her - and the screams level with the incessant slaps of skin on skin.
“Back for more, are you?” Kazuha grunts, sucking in her gut from the pull on her shoulders and into your cock. “Such a shameless boy.”
“Shut your fucking mouth, whore.” You’re bearing no mind to the word sputtered out. The only thing in your head is taking your roommate’s pussy and making it yours. Nothing more, nothing less. “Gonna ruin this cunt now.”
“Hold still and look pretty,” demands Yunjin, and she’s on Kazuha’s side, strap-drunk as Kazuha’s head tips back and slides her hand down her abs to her cunt, watching you fuck and fuck and fuck into Kazuha - wrecked and full of your cock, like you needed this to relieve the stress out your body, and Yunjin’s face twists to something more evil, twisted, witnessing a prophecy come to fruition-
“Look at our cute cocksleeve go.” Yunjin’s fingers tap your forearm, nails clawing curves into your skin - the sting going unnoticed as the thrusts keep moving - another sense acquired, you’re sweating, overheating. “I’m sure he came in you already, and guess what? He’s gonna ruin your tight cunt and fill you up to the brim - when we’re done with you, you’re gonna have to be carried around the house-”
Kazuha cries and cums on your waist - Yunjin sits up, fingers fast to the crease of her legs, surprised and seeing it all unfold. As for you, you’re tensing, gritting teeth together, cumming inside her cunt, the release sought after now tumbling in true bliss-
“Oh, no. We can’t have you be that loud now.”
Yunjin waddles over on her knees to Kazuha’s head, angles her head, and pushes the plastic cock between her lips, smothering with her own spit - see the bob form in her throat when she takes it halfway in.
You’re still going, pulling out and sliding your tip across her folds, soaked in white and convinced that there’s more for you to offer. The strokes are consistent, long enough for another minute or so until you’re spilling a second load in her walls, pumping her full.
“God, fucking- Jesus. Kazuha-”
“Mmfrjmph,” she’s got herself full of other things to worry about than your leaking cum in her pussy.
“Jen, switch.” You give the order and your girlfriend drags her hips away from Kazuha’s face. From the second you pull your cock out, white strips start to drip onto the sheets. Your mind’s barely there, putting every fiber of muscle from the nerves to get you at the headboard of the bed and settle into a comfortable position - and Yunjin flips Kazuha over, hooks her hands to her hips, dragging it towards her crotch, she managed to get the strap-on in time, pointing the length to her cunt, picking up small ribbons at the tip.
“Think she needs a little clean up before you have your fun,” you suggest, fingers buried deep into the threads of Kazuha’s hair and forming it into a lazy bun, ignoring the little ‘ah’ from her lips and focusing her head on your softening cock. “Unless you’re gonna jump right in and get sloppy.”
“You’ve made my point beautifully,” Yunjin agrees, lowering her head and raising Kazuha’s hips up so she can get the taste of both, pushing her back down and deepening the arch with a lick of her lips. “You taste good.”
“Are you saying that to me? Or Zuha?”
“Whatever answer you like.”
Kazuha, as always, refuses to pay attention. Rather- her attention is drawn back to your cock, tongue sweeping the underside, your head falling back and hitting the wood behind, feeling her mouth lap up the mess of your cum slicked cock and slide your hips deeper into the mattress. This is heaven for her, for Yunjin too. A truce made once the damage has been done-
“Don’t go too hard on Zuha, she’s been through a lot.” you tell her, but it’s more of a blessing in disguise when you and Yunjin are on the same page in most cases. A girl like Kazuha on her hands and knees, a collective effort fulfilled.
Yunjin cackles and there’s no further meaning there, the tone sweet, syrupy - you could get drunk on it every single time her face brightens up. She’s leaning over to kiss you, arms wobbling in support so that she doesn’t fall on top of Kazuha, and it’s happened before. “Aw, well that’s too bad. I was gonna give her that and nothing else,” she tells you, smacking her lips off of you. Her hands rest at the swell of Kazuha’s waist, kneading and slapping lightly as a light tease. “You think I can’t hold my own.”
You’re seeing a warble in the room somewhere - on Yunjin. The outer line of her stature warps in your vision - hot, messy, maliciously - jerking Kazuha’s hips back and brushes her hips to her ass.”
“Yunjin, fuck- holy shit-”
Kazuha gasps, smiling. The babbles are complete gibberish, filthy - Yunjin’s ramming her strap inside her ass, cum being pushed well into Kazuha’s womb, poking a little bump in her stomach, speeding up the motion and clawing wherever she can. Kazuha swallows up your cock, brushing the head at the top of her throat, humming - the vibrations bringing you back to life-
“She’s built for taking pain,” Yunjin assesses, experimental. She has no regard for her best friend - and you see the whites in Kazuha’s eyes roll back, her lips sealed at the base and understands where she lies between you two. It’s where she’s meant to be, it seems. You could drop witty drawls and creative comebacks; when it comes to fucking her, neither of you expected her to this soaked. “What a slut. Not even a proper dick-down and spanking can’t shut you up.”
Kazuha’s slurps mesh with the words. “I - mmrfph - fine, I swear. Okay-”
It’s somewhat comprehending to have her like this, split in two and mouth full of your cock. “Yeah, she’s good. Kazuha- Kazuha, baby.”
There’s nothing better than this.
Kazuha getting her hole fucked, sucking you dry.
She sucks.
And sucks.
“If there’s anything that we’ve learned,” Yunjin says mid-thrust, pointing Kazuha’s leg up to the ceiling, deepening the angle, “We both can fuck her brains to mush if we wanted to. Any time in the day, just pull her aside and tell her what to do. What do ya think?”
You’re nodding, stuttering. Kazuha’s mouth has you speechless. “I have no objections,” you barely say, thighs tensing and shaking. “Yunjin, I’m gonna cum in her mouth.”
“Then go ahead,” Yunjin tells you, and you do. Kazuha cheeks puff up at the eruption, streams of white leaking at the corners, satisfied.
Yunjin gives one more good thrust for measure, slides the strap-on out of her fucked cunt, exhaustion collapsing her body, pleased and content with her end of the bargain - the strap-on gets tossed off the bed and onto the floor, made well with its use and disregarded.
She rolls over to your side soon after, glancing. Kazuha’s face clearly spent and drifting off to sleep. For the time being.
–
“We might’ve killed her,” you tell Yunjin peepingyour head past the door frame to see Kazuha’s unmoving body on the bed, “Is it worth checking if she’s breathing?”
There’s the last remnants of what unfolded hours ago, the quick debrief - that kind of thing. You’ve got your head full of mixed emotions; each one of them occurring in passing seconds: happiness, satisfaction, remorse - unsure and nervous, kind of, it’s been a long night anyway.
(She’ll wake up in the morning and feel sore. But if her first words of the day are related to bearing you, that’s a clear sign she’s back to normal.)
“Kazuha’s a good catch,” Yunjin says. “If anything, she’ll complain about her thighs being tight.”
“In relation to her pilates?” You flip the cup over and let the water flow into the drain. Yunjin’s patting your face with a damp towel. “Or the sex?”
“Both,” and she smiles. You purse your lips in agreement. “Gotta say, I didn’t expect you to match her energy well.”
“How could I not? C’mon, the girl was asking for it.” You laugh dryly.
“Point taken,” Yunjin concedes and opens her limbs to let you in the middle, wrap them around and embrace you fully. Her borrowed shirt crumpling in, folding and forming creases alike. “You’re too good at this.”
You give her a fond grin. “Wanna tell me that again?”
“No.”
“No?”
To suffice, she slots her lips to yours, leans back and taps the bathroom mirror. “Okay, it’s past our bedtime already.”
You find yourself slipping through the chestnut pools and the titian waves - an endless valley to get lost in, the light radiating perfectly to where it highlights and complements the shades well. You’ve said a lot of things to her, more than you can probably count.
“Love us,” you’re proclaiming, preaching to the open air. Her dragged grin pulls you deeper, and you spot the scrunch at the bridge of her brows: she couldn’t agree more. Then it reverts back to normal: “lose the shirt, we’ll share the body heat under the sheets.”
–
The first day with drastic changes beckoning are scary.
This is nothing new.
Starting from scratch, conceptually, is always a new brush of inspiration, no matter what the event is. Luckily, it’s reassuring that you’re not facing these new horizons alone. With a guy like you, that has wonderful people in your corner - willing to support any endeavor you indulge in, it’s empowering. You’re convinced that the clouds part in the sky for the sun to fill the endless canvas of blue and you feel that whatever’s manifested in your mind will eventually come true.
You have the same old pattern with Yunjin: take her out somewhere nice every now and then, waste your time doing nothing on some days, hold her heels or bag without her asking, let her treat you well whenever she feels like it. You share the usual banter, fuck her if things get boring, give her a lot of things to deal with that she’ll brush off later.
With Kazuha, it’s a dice roll:
She still spits out shit to you with no reason, and you return the favor and fuck her till she begs for more, gets into petty arguments until she comes walking back without saying a word, unable to take compliments, rambles endless fantasies waiting to be fulfilled more than just once. And you accept that she won’t let you off easily.
When the two of them are together, sitting across from you or on their knees; backs on the bed or one eating out the other's cunt, it’s a place of a guaranteed connection; one that’s massively fucked up and with a million ways to go about with the pair. You and Yunjin know this - and between the three of you, it remains unsaid.
“Got everything?” Yunjin asks, handing your trusted tumbler and ruffling up your hair, dusting off your windbreaker like a mom seeing off their child for school. “Expecting a slow day, aren’t you?”
“You know me,” you drawl, grinning. “I’d much rather waste my time here and get paid for it.”
The back of your head nicks forward as a response from behind, looking past your shoulder to see Kazuha tilt her head in view, getting a closer look of your appearance and drawing up her own assessment. “Until one of us get another job, it seems like you’re the main breadwinner of the household.”
“Zuha, him and I were expecting your half of the rent for this month,” says Yunjin, hand to her hip and pouting, “Wanna tell us where the fuck it is?”
Kazuha sashays herself next to Yunjin, inciting a staredown that ends after two seconds, shaking her head and dodging the question entirely. “Don’t worry about it. But I have the money, I swear.”
“And what if you don’t have it when he comes back?” Yunjin asks Kazuha, rolling her eyes before shifting her gaze back to normal, “Then what?”
You’re making your way out as the two continue with the quick argument, disregarding their attention. “If it’s all the same to you, I’ll be heading out now.”
“Can I fuck her again while you’re gone?’ Yunjin then asks, shouldering her weight to Kazuha. “At least until-”
You sigh.
“I’d like to ask the same question, but do it on Yunjin,” Kazuha replies.
(It’s a lot on your plate with Yunjin. Sure. Kazuha’s added herself to the mix - and it’s a tad bit more complicated. Maybe worse. Fuck all you know: you like them both.)
“I’ll handle you two later,” you’re telling the pair, and they know you mean every word - a promise. “Feel free to get started.” After, you see yourself out the door.
Karina lifts an eyebrow, only at certain points in conversation where she thinks your opinion is highly invalid.
“No, it isn’t. You didn’t even let me properly explain,” she tells you, “All I want is a favor. Not a bet.”
“It’s still asking a lot from me when I’m already dealing with your bullshit.”
She sighs, leaning back on the counter. You’ve got a hand to your hip and an expression on your face that says: “fuck off six ways back to Sunday,” That’s how these usual briefings go, the quick dump or fill-in of whatever the fuck is worth sharing in each others’ lives.
Instead, she raises her hands up in surrender, lips pulled inward. “Fine. Would it be better for me to come back to you on this sometime later?”
“Can I suggest not having you bother me ever again?”
A snort, then a cackle is what she gives. So, you roll your eyes because you know that it's always, always a tell-all for disaster.
“Oh honey,” she says, patting your shoulder while you look over to see her running off to do her own thing, “You’re gonna be stuck with me for a long time. You just haven’t seen it yet.”
–
To bring things up to speed: you didn’t know what the fuck you were thinking when you brought Karina along as your roommate.
At first, things were great.
The living styles were well complimented. Separate rooms, similar schedules, the usual activities you’ve done together for fun. Even the chores were assigned (though by second nature and good habits). This small space was well put to be a slice of home away from home whilst going through the ranks of college.
She invited some of her friends and classmates over from time to time; some of which you had a partial interest in. Sometimes you’re out with Karina’s setups, other times she’s the one that’s out and about while you were holding the fort down. For the most part, life was easy having your best friend since middle school hang around with you.
Still, no issues to mention whatsoever.
But then-
“Do you have a minute?”
It’s 8 pm on a Saturday and Karina’s coming to you for her regular yaps and endless rants since the girl just talks and talks and talks.
You curse at yourself at times for always being the listener.
“Yeah,” you say, closing your laptop on the kitchen island when she rounds the corner, coming to your side. “I don’t have anything, so I’ve always got time.”
You’re hoping that it isn’t anything out of the ordinary; from the looks of things, all signs seem to point that way. She’s in her sports shorts with one of your (stolen) t-shirts - the collar cut off highlighting her shoulder - hair tied up and in glasses, you automatically assume that she isn’t going anywhere.
“Remember when I brought up that thing?”
“What thing?”
Then it hits you: that thing.
You had your fingers crossed that she would forget about asking you for whatever she needed you for. Sucks that she had a good memory - not only that, you’ve made yourself reliable for her so many times before; turning her down was simply an impossibility.
Not all heroes wear capes, sadly.
Karina slaps your shoulder, easily seeing through your mask of sarcasm.
“Don’t act dumb, genius. That ‘thing’ was just coming along with me for once.”
Her brows furrowed, the corners of her lips tracking back across her cheeks. You can’t say no let alone ignore the poor girl.
“You know me with outings,” you reason, sensible. In most cases like these, Karina comes to you out of others to bring up her issues, her dilemmas; her self-inquisitions, as she would like to call them from time to time. And usually, they’re straightforward. This should be an easy cakewalk. “I’m all for it, but what’s the point when you force me to be more sociable when you’re dragging me around?”
“Because maybe you’re the biggest pussy I’ve had the misfortune of being with.” Karina huffs, arms crossed and face left in distress. She examines you so closely under her microscope that it’s borderline invasive - but you don’t tell her that. So you twine your fingers in between each other and return the laser-focused stare she’s giving you, taunting almost along the lines of - look, if you’re gonna be convincing, you gotta do better than that.
All she does is throw a shoulder shrug, awkwardly - dropping them so fast that you’re putting everything in your willpower to not notice the subtle bounce of her chest.
Her palm faces up toward the ceiling, hoping for a response. You purse your lips out to spite her. She has to deal with your bullshit head-on, tragically.
“It’s always the work, gym, eat, sleep, do more work at home, and repeat. All the fucking time. So bland and-”
You tilt your head the more her insults fill your ears.
“You disgustingly piss me off.”
Her fingers press on your forehead when you give the subtle eye smile and smirk combination, finally pushed over the edge now she doesn’t want anything to do with you. She paces around the kitchen and you can see her eyes dart over at the corner.
She won’t leave you alone.
Not until she gets what she wants.
Besides, you’ve learned that Karina isn’t very good at persuading people to do something. Though eventually-
“Why didn’t you just say you’re inviting me to go out for a night?” You ask, knowing that the bluntness is one of the few ways to bring Karina back around once she’s done with her tantalizing tangents. “You wouldn’t be here going crazy if you just told me-”
“Because you’re the one who can’t seem to get it through your thick-ass skull in the first place!” She exclaims, first underneath her shirt that reveals some of the skin on her waist, the ends of her panties now apparent the more her boxer shorts keep slacking off her hips. You can’t afford to stare. You know you can’t.
The recurring cycle of interest: keeps coming back to haunt you.
You concluded or accepted the fact years ago that Karina was never meant to be yours. Yet- she would always come to you whenever she had boy problems or wanted your opinion on what she should wear or do with every single one of her crushes she ever had throughout her life, hiding the fact that you wanted to be one of them at some point.
All those wet dreams, fantasies, the fake situations of romance you’ve deluded yourself into - those kinds of things had to be channeled into something else to fill the space.
You’ve kept it cool. Sometimes, in between the bleeding weeks, where she’s roaming around the house in the shortest pair of shorts, the tightest of tank tops, the curves way more present when she’s light on the balls of her feet, you eventually broke and resorted to that trusty old lotion and sock combo behind the door to your room.
With a girl dressed like that, and those tits filling up your brain-
(You’d be committing perjury holding yourself back for as long as you did.)
“Okay, for the last time,” says Karina, hands stacked and her feet crossed. “All I ask is for you to just get out of the apartment for once, and have some fun. Is that hard?”
You shake your head. “No, of course it isn’t.”
Karina nods, content. She takes off her glasses and puts it on the marble counter, her pretty lashes batting with those violet-black eyes of hers. “There. That wasn’t so difficult, was it?”
And there she goes, tapping your forearm while you nod in agreement; does a little hop in place like some cute bunny, her shirt loose and flowing and moving everywhere. She’s such a fucking bitch. So shameless. This girl’s attitude will be the death of you.
She’s shaking her fists up in the air, doing some cha-cha move. The shirt isn’t doing her justice for her fucking breasts.
Then she leans in, close. Her breath grazes your face and neck. She scrunches her nose while you’re ‘shooing’ her away; aware of the message and her point. Karina then steps back, tying a knot to her shirt, making her figure a lot more apparent. By some crazy form of timing, you turn your body towards her, freezing in place while the shirt molds around her chest, her waist - you’re clenching your jaw and gritting your teeth behind your lips since you wonder if she’s doing it on purpose.
The imagination. The possibilities.
“C’mon,” Karina says, reaching for your hand and tugging it, tilting her head up and angrily pouting. For fucks sake, the slightest resistance of pull makes those mounds bounce in place. You’re sick and twisted; she’s the sole reason to blame. “I want you to be my plus one.”
“Had I not already said yes?” You’re asking, swearing under your breath. The ‘plus one’ role is a direct translation to ‘hey, i’m going to get fucked up tonight, and i want you to be there on standby to carry me home or even dd, okay?’. You remember from past experiences that it also means that being with her is a dice roll of what kind of Karina you have to deal with: the kissy Karina, the pissed-off Karina, the Karina with the ‘carry me home with the eyes that say fuck me until I can’t walk’ attitude.
Sigh and roll your eyes back, it’s burned into your memory anyway.
Putting it in layman’s terms wasn’t gonna cut it. Being honest isn’t gonna change her mind. You could get the King of England to threaten her for a price on her head and she’ll still find a way to get it overturned.
As nicely as you’d want to be, it can only hold for so long.
Karina isn’t the kind of person to throw you into the fire right away -no, she’s smarter than that.
“You did,” she says, shaking her head side to side, moving her shoulders along since you’ve put her in a good mood. You’re trying to decode the action to the expression, connecting the dots possible if she’s fucking around or being genuine. Give into the preaching and encouragement that if you did go with her you’d have your fun with someone like her carrying half her energy - okay, you have a type; nothing wrong with that, but still. “Why? Don’t tell me you’re having second thoughts already?”
You have a hand up along with your mouth open; Karina’s a bit dense to think pragmatically.
“What’s it gonna take with you to get off of your lazy ass and live life? When was the last time you and I went out together and did some dumb shit? That was when you had that thing with- who was that one girl? Winter? Or was it Giselle?” Karina carries on, trailing off with you walking not far from her.
She pulls the hair tie out of her head - after what it seems to be five minutes since putting it on - her head moves to let the messy locks flow and pool behind her back, stretching her arms out before turning left and into her room. You stop at the doorway when she turns around, arms braced to the frame, smirking.
“You said you weren’t doing anything, right? And you don’t have work until next week, right? So that automatically means that you’re free for the weekend?”
“Well, yeah. Don’t forget that you went out with me and Ningning for that boring ass movie. So please, if you stop giving me shit for this, can I at least get ready before we head out?”
Karina groans. “Ugh, why are you so fucking difficult to work with? I’ve set you up with three of my friends so far and only one of them has gotten close to getting in bed with you.”
“Maybe I’m complicated,” you say back, turning the other cheek and thinking about that specific time not that long ago when she gave you the double thumbs up before being dragged by Winter onto the dance floor at that club near the school.
“Complicated people don’t put their hands behind their back and let the girl get all touchy with them,” she teases, stopping in the middle of your doorway, shirt off and all she’s got is that jet black bra with the thinnest straps you’ve ever seen on her collarbones, but she doesn’t stop there: “Might I add that you wanted to try your luck into dating again and- hey. I know that kiss with Winter was the best one you’ve had in a while.”
Karina smiles at your confused expression, hitting a pressure point. You’ve folded for girls before. She was there for some part of the fun. It’s a weakness; playing to your ideal characteristics and all she has to do is play the matchmaker and watch the magic happen. She got close. Almost. The support was unwavering, but you’re still searching.
You don’t take long to get yourself situated, putting on whatever essentials you felt was right. Karina took a little bit more time to get ready. You know how she is: every part of her outfit has to be thought-out and well-layered if means of raising the ‘down to get fucked’ meter up past the 100-point scale. Sometimes it takes five minutes, other times it takes hours.
She walks out of the hallway in a simple outfit. A grey tank top and baggy jeans that nearly cover her feet. Her brown leather jacket was the finishing touch draped around her arm, wrist, and fingers shining in her typical jewelry.
The makeup was light too, a soft blush applied but the main culprit was her lips - and man, they have no right being that plump.
“You’re staring.”
A blink and a smirk here. An eyebrow raised soon after: “Are you saying I’m being rude?”
“No.”
It doesn’t register in your mind that she’s all up in your space the next second, holding your breath when she looks up to your chin.
“Is there something that you want to tell me?”
“Karina-”
“C’mon, you’ve thought about me that way at least once-”
“Fucks sake Karina, you’re delusional. I would never. ”
She nods with a devilish grin, tilting her chin up, humming. You’re breathing out of your nostrils when she backs away, heading over to the door to put on her shoes. Everything that this woman does makes you reconsider the consequences (but hey, you’ve imagined what it would be like for her to wake up in your bed, wear your clothes she won’t think of returning unless you fuck that bratty attitude off her tongue.) A woman like her who can do it all, and you’re holding her jacket once you and her step out of the apartment and close the door.
Most people would give their praise and high regard for putting up with her for this long because you’ve held out longer than anyone would have imagined.
You’ve dealt with her energy all these years, the countless shenanigans that you have gone through with her since high school, and occasions where she shouldn’t have dragged you in but still did anyway. There’s a tolerance that one can only take so much of with Karina, and you always fail at that. (Always.)
She’s too good to be real.
Later, she’s on the phone, calling and texting her other friends that she planned on meeting up with, waiting out in the front yard while you’re keeping her close - like what a natural bodyguard would do with their assignment.
“Are you wearing my jacket?” asks Karina, pinching at the pelt. “I was gonna use that for later.”
“I look better in it,” you muse. “But I’ll give it back to you later when it gets colder.”
“I’m gonna need it later for my look.”
“That look you have right now is gonna get you fucked.”
Karina gives you the same tilt of her head; this time, there’s a slight twinkle in her eyes that looks like the lightbulb just went off in her head. You’ve lit the match within her or signed someone off to their demise waiting for them in the next hour or so.
She bites down her smile, her ego inflated. “Guess we can put that as a separate bet between us, then.”
–
Well.
Fuck.
You realize right away that going out didn’t seem to be a bad idea after all.
Plus, it’s only been roughly two hours since Karina convinced you to help her out and tag along so now you’re here: a half-full cup of her go-to and watching the sight of everyone having their fun with one other person or in a group. She, on the other hand, has a guy with her - breaking down the awkward wall and playing the act of softening up with the blaring music.
It’s a steady groove, music flows in her body so elegantly.
The ambiance alone pounds your eardrums, eyes occasionally getting blinded by the flashing lights coming from the DJ’s stage, dancing her heart away and letting loose because it’s the weekend. She’s not the only one, too. Her little entourage surrounds her, dancing along and giving their attention to Karina - each one of them attractive and dazzling to look at. Karina was never one for the limelight, but once she’s got something going, it never leaves her.
You can catch yourself getting sucked in the moment you laid your eyes back on her.
The law of attraction: embodied by Karina. A phenomenon that you’ve learned happens on a weekend basis. Everyone that knows or has met her for the first time, is automatically influenced by her which doesn’t take much for that to happen. Some are joining in for the vibe, while others are trying to lean into her ear and get her attention that way, let their bodies do the talking, and see if she’s willing.
Bad news, this girl is. You’re treading dangerous waters carefully.
Moment by moment, every single guy who tries to approach Karina retreat in dejection and defeat. You can see it in their heads hanging in shame, the slanted lips, some make a last-ditch effort to bring her back to the bar for another drink, only to be stopped with the simple raised hand of hers, friends coming along as reinforcements to stop the inquisitions.
Her eyes lock on to you, watching from afar. Like a lighthouse; a signal and a haven for her to find comfort in. She motions you to come to the dance floor; and to that, you raise your glass in earnest, insisting that where you are right now is fine.
You keep staring, sipping.
She’s fixed up her top again to where the curves are much more present than usual.
So you decide to down your bearings, hoping that the thought of Karina could be swallowed down with ease; her damned smile, head tilts, the swaying of her body (along with bouncing in some places without a care in the world) to the upbeat tunes until she’ll decide she can’t do it anymore.
At some point, she’ll have to come get you to join.
And you’ve accepted that it will happen sooner or later.
Your shoulder gets bumped by one of the people making their way through on accident, diverting your attention for a second. Then-
Karina’s out of your line of sight.
Next thing you know-
She taps your shoulder, tugging on your shirt.
“Hey-”
The words you were going to say were: ‘hey, what gives?’ or ‘something wrong?’; but for some reason, you’re left in a stun lock - a trance. There’s also another thing that you realize right away when she has her arms slithering around your middle and up your shoulders.
She looks around as you track her head movements, checking for something - ensuring that the coast is clear - you can start to get an idea of what she’s trying to do. Your brows furrow, thrown off by Karina’s stoic expression. It’s impossible to see or understand what’s going through her head, but she nicks her head back towards the dance floor, and you instantly get the message.
“Need you in here, now,” she mouths, but you tilt your head down to hear her repeat it. She then pulls onto the floor while you’re also surveying the crowd, seeing if there was anything fishy.
Karina guides your hands around her waist, noticing her fingers twitch as they graze your forearm, hinting that something was off. You’ve been near her before, but not like this. She then bumps into a few people standing behind her, prompting you to pull her back towards you - pressing her body, hand now to your neck, chin resting on top of her head-
You can deduce that this is not her usual self - the reverberating bass pounding into your bodies and hers serving as this sort of proxy to dance more and think less.
She scratches the ends of your hair right above the nape, irises burning into your face. You assume that this was the favor that she was talking about: going to the club with her and having a good time? Why the fuck did she have to make it sound so complicated in the first place?
“Stay close to me, okay? There’s this guy that’s been trailing us since we got here. I just need some time - help me out, please.”
You look over your shoulder, Karina centers herself with her hands cupped around your neck, peering over as well. The strobe light blinds your vision for a second before turning back. “Wait, how can you be sure?”
“Trust me,” she tells you, expression flat, serious. “You’ve got a good sixth sense about these kinds of things anyway, you’ll know.”
“But-”
“Isn’t that the guy you mentioned just now-”
Karina’s quick to get a finger between your lips, darts her eyes out then onto you. The indication alone confirms all of your suspicions. You can’t even see the poor guy, not when the flashing lights are giving you nothing but snapshots amongst the silhouettes and shapes in the dark. “Look, be cool. You’re safe with me. If he gets close I’ll get in–”
“No wait- it’s fine. Just leave him alone,” she butts in, leaning her head against your chest so she can hide her face. “This is already good, okay? You did great.”
You cradle the side of her head when she looks up, tongue caught between her teeth slightly. “No, I want to see what was his deal-”
“Can you shut the fuck up already?”
“Karina, I-”
She pulls your head into hers: locking lips, derailing your train of thought.
You make a sound in her mouth in response to the confusion, but it stops the bickering you two were doing a few seconds ago. She could feel you pull away, but leans her head up back for more, claiming your lips through the kiss; you swear that you and her aren’t that drunk yet.
It shuts you up, alright. A moment of reprieve that doesn’t give you any time to think because fuck, this girl is making you second guess every single choice you’ve made in your life up till this point, wondering if you’re ever going to take your golden chance or give Karina an earful when you and her get back home later.
Your fingers dig into the dips of her lower back, her hands on your cheeks, overloading your senses with her lips, giving you hard teeth and a swiping tongue - no time to think or catch up.
The rest of the world fades out from your head, nothing between you and Karina putting everything on the line in terms of her feelings - almost like the roles had been reversed with her struggling to believe you had a thing for her and you letting your actions do all the talking.
You’re not thinking about the amount of regret you’ll have once all of this is over. Friends just don’t kiss each other out of the blue. No. Karina fed you the false belief that you’d do anything she’d ask you to do, which is why you’re doing this with her. You think this is all a dream, but you sense everything; that diminishes the present thought right away.
You’ll give as much passion back to Karina, because it’s what you would do for her regardless:
Follow her lead, and listen to what she says; there’s always something with her that you’re blindly agreeing to.
Karina pulls away for a moment to breathe, next thing you know her tongue slips past against yours, and your grip on her body becomes a lot less pleasant since she’s unleashed that craving hidden within.
You touch her teeth, smiling. Her forehead gently rubs against yours, breaking the kiss, when you notice it in your peripheral:
A girl with a hand to her mouth.
One girl next to her with her hand wound up in her hair, in complete shock.
The third girl behind the two nodded in approval with a sly smirk.
Yeji, Ryujin, and Yujin: Karina’s other cute little trio, watching their lovely friends finally have their moment together.
You look back at Karina, rubbing her bottom lip with her finger, internalizing the taste of you.
Then the realization settles in.
“That guy backed away from us,” she tells you, “but I gotta say, you’ve outdone yourself.”
You glance over to see Karina’s trio watch as said guy turns his back into the crowd, retreating away.
“What’s the matter? Speechless?” she asks again, finger happily dancing along your skin, and your hands aren’t moving off her body. You’ve never been shy with her, except this one time: right now.
“Never with you,” you answer, matching her smug expression. “Never.”
Karina hides her true intention again for a second, knowing that it’ll wither away the more she acts like this. Right, she can say one thing, though her actions are so easy to read from the minute she’s invaded your personal space.
This girl is bad news in everything.
So you hold your gaze with her, wondering, connecting the dots. Speculating how long she’s been planning for this to happen, to be like every other guy that’s ever tried to get her in their bed or between those legs. Even so, she knows you’re not simple to break, and that’s where she’s got you. “I knew you had to be sure somehow, just didn’t think you’d go this far.”
“Desperate times, desperate measures.” Karina eyes cross slightly as she stares at you, thumb grazing along your chin. “You were taking too long for my liking.”
Liking? Surely not.
There’s no possible way she could-
“What the hell does that mean?” You ask, staring back, tongue tip between your teeth. Your breathing starts to shallow.
Karina leans into the side of your head, amidst the noise of the speakers and funneling her voice well in your ear canal. “It doesn’t make sense to me, you know. How we’ve known each other for this long, and we haven’t thought of even trying it at least once.”
She knows where she’s going with this - all those times you’ve ogled at her hoping that she wouldn’t notice - or all of those times where you’ve talked about everything that had to involve life at any given point. You’d hoped that you dodge the question for a little longer.
Karina’s friends managed to crack it out of you a while back, remembering it well. Her touch on your body has gone gentler, never breaking her gaze on you.
“How come you and I have never hooked up with each other?”
You freeze. Feel the warmth spread across your cheeks; it’s an immediate catch, and you were praying silently that this was a dream.
Exposed. Is what you are.
Though Karina doesn’t falter here. Her eyes shimmer in the dim lighting. Wistful. You’re giving her enough time to figure out where your head was leveled at; like she would understand whether you wanted this or not.
“Honestly, we could’ve.” You admit, with a sharp inhale. Hoping that the answer alone is enough for her sake. “Like- god, it would’ve been so easy. I wanted-”
“Is it because you and I are just friends? That’s complete bullshit if that’s what you’re sticking with. I’ve seen you look at me that way before, or with my back turned; goes to show that you don’t have what it takes to get what you want, but I do.”
You pull her close, and that gets her flustered.
Both of your hands are on her face, leaning on her, stopping right at the lips, watch her eyelids flutter in anticipation. The thrumming of your heartbeat pounds between your eardrums, until she looks at you dead in the eyes, sliding her hand lower and lower, quirks her eyebrows once her fingers lay land over your pants.
Your throat bobs, swallowing on nothing. The lightbulb sets off in her head.
“Would you look at that? Oh my. Honey, you’re just like the rest of them. Try to deny it all you want, but you can’t get the thought of using my body to get yourself off. And guess what? I’d let you.”
She’s got a key charm in being forward. And you find it to be so fucking sexy; saying things like that with no care for who hears, keeping it blunt and straight to the point; she could talk her way out of a speeding ticket and she really could. Karina was simply being herself, you could point the culprit in the alcohol or maybe her friends, but you’re still caught in her crosshairs and the window of escape is closing fast.
You don’t do anything to resist the pair of hands at your neck and the seat of your pants - or the fact that she’s yanking your head back to meet hers and you hear all her friends squeal at the mere sight of Karina getting her chance. Everything about this is sensational, a new thing to adapt and learn by the minute.
Here, when she lets you pull away: “You can do better than that, sweetie. Tell. Me.”
You’ll tell her everything that she wants to hear: how you’ve had a crush on her since high school, how you’ve managed to stay by her side after all these years, the fact that you couldn’t jeopardize what you already had. Besides, the risk of losing her as a lover and a friend was too much to bear, that she isn’t the kind of girl to have sex with because you love her and that will be the end of it all.
Sooner than later, you’ll tell her that. So to suffice, you say: “I could’ve, believe me. We just never did.”
From that alone, Karina shakes her head, neither rejecting nor accepting. Her wrists slack behind your neck, bring her waist closer until you’re able to lace your fingers around your arm. You’re nervous at what might be going through her head right now, gnawing your inner lip to keep your mind occupied.
She looks you dead in the eyes, a twinkle behind them: full of inspiration, desire, hunger, want.
You kiss her again, because you believe that’s the only thing right to do. “How bout this,” she says, giddy and sultry, “Why don’t we find this out for ourselves?”
–
This wasn’t the first time you’ve been in this position.
And certainly, it won’t be the last, either.
You’ve put up with Karina’s bullshit for as long as you could remember: from carrying her on your back after a long night out to those times of sleeping on the couch since she complained her bed was too stiff and decided to use yours. You can think of one instance of every emotion she has, nothing but fun memories in those moments.
However, you’ve never been like this with her.
Until tonight.
You catch yourself failing miserably in keeping your guard up with Karina. Not when she’s taking every red light as her chance to kiss you in the car, her hand sliding under your shirt and grazing your pants shamelessly. Not when you’ve pressed her tits up against the elevator door and flipped her around kissing you once more so that the camera guy can see, hear her giggle and hum at this new and improved version of you that she’s created.
It’s all a rush for her, the way you can’t let go of her past the door, pin her hips against the kitchen counter, peel off the layers of clothes starting with her jacket, grasp her breast held captive by the tight holds of her tank top. You raise her on the marble so that she can match your height - make her feel taller, build that ego up, give her the false impression that she’s the one having fun.
Most definitely on the fact that you’ve got her tank top off in record time, gawking at the immeasurable amount of skin along those luscious valleys you’ve classified as her breasts.
Karina’s head goes sideways, inquisitive. She sees you have your sights set on the prize, all within arms reach. “That’s cute, you’ve been eyeing these babies ever since I moved in, god you’re not that hard to whirl around.” You have your fun at her neck while her fingers are working fast at your pants, sliding her hand underneath the elastic of your boxers-
“Jesus baby,” she husks, appalled with the curl of your fingers along the length. She thought the bulge earlier was already apparent enough - oh how wrong she was, looking down at the newly claimed prize. “Since when the fuck were you hiding this from me? This is not the same cock I hear you jerk yourself off with now and then-”
“Just one of my few surprises,” you cut her off, jolting your hips forward when the grip around your girth gets a tad bit tighter. “Believe me when I say this, you ain’t seen nothing yet.”
Karina wets her lip, biting.
She’s getting used to the new feeling of this. Of you. Her small hand holds you in place, trying to find the right words to describe or end with. You’re trying to see how far she would go - how much could she take; then, she drives another nail into the coffin: “Fuck. You’re like- really big.”
You grin, since that’s got enough weight in the words to inflate your confidence through the roof. She twists her hand around while you’re peppering her face with your lips, over and over and over, until she’s completely broken you down and all signs seem to be pointing in that direction.
You hear her hum in approval, sighing in relief, whisper these praises laced with your name. And when she says your name, genuinely, it comes off in a moment of seriousness - hallowed even.
She’ll make you plummet into the depths of hell, or raise you to the golden pearly gates above; no matter the difference, you’re falling for one of two ways with her.
It’s also putting you in a bad position because you know her experiences, what she wants, the mere basics of it. You pull her hips as she twists her hand by reflex, like it has a mind of its own, pumping your length.
You hate how good she is at working you up. The wonders in sleight of hand: where to curl her fingers, how fast she should handle the strokes, the press of her thumb down on your tip, studying it while trying to figure out where to even start.
“It’s not even fair at this point,” she tells you, sly smirking while you see her eyes fall halfway, softly laughing as she sees your knees buckle and hit the cabinet beneath her because you can’t respond properly. “You’re gonna take care of me so well. Using this to fuck my brains out.”
Her smile goes even wider when your head falls back involuntarily, giving Karina the window to leave some marks of her own across your chest.
Her ankles rest at the back of your thighs, leaning forward to get her other hand on your throbbing shaft, paying attention to your balls, weaving them between her fingers, dividing and conquering to no avail, to turn your mind into a puddle.
“It’s gonna look so pretty in my ass,” Karina whispers into your ear, leaving more kisses behind, making you feel like you’re on cloud nine. “I bet I could make you cum with just my mouth, my hands. Maybe I’ll give you a tease, spread my legs and let you slip inside right here, since you’re so fucking hard that you could knock me out with this cock, hm?”
Oh, what in the actual fuck-
Right out of the gates, this girl is forcing you to be head over heels - to submit and bend to her will; she knows what to preach, her words alone fulfilling every single fantasy you have in the book, to take what’s hers and feed you that overpowering urge above all: to simply ruin her.
Unpredictability is something that Karina takes pride in: going slow at one point, then faster the next, dragging and shortening your breath in every stroke until the pressure becomes too much.
She nods at her handiwork, sliding off the counter and pulling you by the dick across the apartment. That alone makes you snap and pin her - grab her by the arm and spin her around - press and bend her body over on the couch for a quick second.
You pull her by the hair and shift her head; forcing her to lean up for a kiss. Flush your hips with hers where the weight of you might make her crumble right away.
You almost feel bad about it, but that thought gets quickly diminished, because Karina knows how much she can handle. She wants to be taken rough, split apart, worship her body like it's some new testament you’ll reflect on in adoration, have her cunt fucked so thoroughly by you that she’ll come crawling back craving for more.
“How long have you been waiting for this?” Karina grins into your cheek, running her hand up over yours greedily grasping at her tit. “All those slutty things I kept telling you, seems like you wanted some of the fun as well, huh?”
Okay, she’s not wrong at all. You’ll bank that on the fact that she has most definitely heard you jerk yourself off at night, or the fact you’ve seen her walk out the shower naked but pretend to look the other way. With all those stories of her escapades, part of you wanted to join along now and then.
So you give her mercy and lift yourself off from her, watch her glance over her shoulder when you’re following her to your room, fingers to the latch of her bra, the garment slipping off and falling to the floor. Her back is hypnotic to look at, and you find yourself chasing after her for another go.
“This is gonna be bad for you,” she giggles, holding her by the door frame while your hands have a mind of their own, freely roaming across the canvas of her perfect body, sliding up and down and feeling the untouched territory yet to be claimed. “Can’t even stay away from me even for two seconds.”
She sticks her ass out, dips her head down when you get a hold of her mound, the flesh alone having its little weight to it, graze your thumb over her nipples, pinch it, kiss the back of her neck, and leave another mark. You are going to take your sweet time with her; use your teeth, your mouth, your cock. Anything and everything in your arsenal to make Karina yours.
It starts with the letdown. Now, we’re at a shuffle - a waltz, a sloppy waltz - until Karina spins herself around while you settle at the edge of your bed, hike up to your hips, rest them there, forearms on shoulders, kissing you once more.
A gentle moan slips out of her mouth when you finally start indulging yourself in her fabulous tits. Seeing out the amount of fun you are going to have: licking, kissing, biting along the perfect skin. Your mind can’t seem to register the fact that your hands were made for holding them; the fit alone, it feels so nice.
Fuck, it’s even better once you realize she’s so responsive to the touch. That alone prompts you to add oil to the fire and drop the intimate act for something more primal, hungrier. She does this little shimmy with her upper body, moving her breasts around for your mouth to be caught in between them like two mushy pillows molding around your face.
Her hand slips under and grips around you again, the friction causing you to bite down on her skin. A fair trade at least - a two-way system - you touch her, she touches you.
“God, I think I know why you held yourself back with me for this long,” her words heavy and just coherent enough to understand, “maybe I convinced myself that I couldn’t handle you.”
You laugh into her breasts, her hand on the back of your head, tugging while she hears the hums.
She sighs, relieved. Like there’s a weight finally off her shoulders. “Why didn’t we do this sooner?” One second later, she pushes your head away, jaw slack, eyes clouded with lust, drunk on the taste of her skin, your hand sliding lower and lower from her waist, the warm surface getting even hotter when you reach her panties, grazing the lace.
“It’s unreal, I don’t even have to tell you to say anything-” she sucks in a breath at the feeling of your fingers soaking up her slick, swipe your thumb upwards across her clit. “You win baby. I’ll let you have your way. I promise.” She tilts your head up for a kiss, grining her hips down, forcing the groan from you down her throat. “I can give you everything you ever dreamed of having.”
You don’t even know where to fucking start.
“Don’t put words in my mouth,” you say, hitting the tip of your nose against hers; get a light-hearted laugh out. “I’ll make you regret them.”
“Oh yeah? Why don’t you tell me what’s going through your head right now? With me on top? I’m all ears.”
It’s even worse when you see her hand slithering down from her tits. Lower. Lower. The influence already affects you when she brings your hand around your cock, slowly tugging along as she treats herself to such a sight.
That said sight of Karina playing with herself; sighing, murmuring, tilting her head slightly as her breath shudders at the sound of you groaning whilst doing the same thing with yourself. You see the damage, the marks, the places where you’ll leave more bruises than before.
You just have to- fucking- look. You have her in such a state that you have never imagined yourself being in, and now that’s realized right in front of your eyes.
So you tell her exactly how you’ll fuck her. What position she likes the most, where does she want you to take her, how much you’ll twist her mind into becoming more desperate for you and your cock, when you’ll make her cum, rail that poor cunt of hers until she’s sobbing in the filthiest fucking mess possible.
“I’d be sinning,” you tell her, admittedly. “If I didn’t say that you’ve never imagined me fucking your tits unlike now. Better yet-”
“And let me guess, you were hoping to God that there was at least somebody out there who could fulfill that desire for you, right?” Karina interrupts, hand still in between her legs, watching you shamelessly jerk yourself off. She sighs, “So original. I think you deserve more than that.”
Uhm- well- okay, yeah.
“What, too weird?” You ask right after, breathless, your shaft throbbing around your fingers a tad early for your taste. “Ouch. I get it. It’s fine.”
“No, no, no,” Karina sighs, licking her lips. Her eyes shine through yours, a supernova unraveling. “I think we can settle with this. You fix me, I fix you. Deal?”
Who’s to say that there was a chance Karina had the same vision as you?
–
It’s a freeze-frame moment when the realization hits you for the first time.
You’re seeing, but still having a tough time believing:
The sight of your cock being swallowed up by her tits, tongue laving at the tip, her hands compressing her chest inwards so that she can hold you there - focus on her lips and listen to the soft moans all lovely and adoring. Your poor cock: leaking with precum mixed with spit and when it’s all slicked up, you’ll put her on her back and make her press her breasts together, slip right back inside the heat and press into the friction. A gift from the heavens, you think. God, you’ll praise and worship them for as long as you live.
“Shit,” you barely manage, rasping, like it’s some epiphany, as if this was new for her. “Karina, that’s incredible.”
Her eyes dart at you, lashes flickering. The subtlety alone is near cute, even when her fingers dig into the skin of her tits, pinching at the nipples, tongue hanging out as some of the spit starts to drip over into the cleavage.
She lowers her mouth right above the tip, seals it around your thick cockhead lightly. “Really?”
You clench your jaw a little tighter, “God,” you huff, tensing up your hips for the thrust, fucking into the pressure, stare as she moves her tits downward to meet in the middle. “Fuck, yes.”
“Don’t you suppose that this is good for me as well?” She then asks, dazed.
“Why- fuck. Why the fuck are you asking me?” You rasp, tone gentle the next second. “Judging how hard you’re pressing, I hope that you won’t let that go to your head.” Karina’s face lights up with excitement, tilts her head down into your hand, smirking as she hears the stable breathing. Her brown eyes - like her tits - are soft, easy; her plump bottom lip sweeps the head of your cock once again.
She hums as she stares. Chuckles at the mere buck of your hips. Cute.
“Hmmm, maybe I will,” she accepts.
You scoff, mixed with relief and with disbelief because Karina’s tits are fucking unreal and to top it all off she’s sucking you off while your cock is held captive between them; though you’re stuck in a hypnosis and that’s the only sensible reaction of Karina that you could give her. “Karina,” you’re seething, “Jesus, Karina-”
She moves her chest in this side-to-side motion, wiggling her tits like it’s some shameless dance move, proposing. “What’s the matter, baby? All that waiting and you can’t hold it together?” She asks, arms moving inward with her elbows at the bottom line - her drool dribbling down her tongue and into her cleavage in this messy waterfall. “You wanna cum in between my fucking tits, hm? Right in the middle? Paint them white over these red marks you kissed all over-”
The sound ripping from your throat is an indication of the first layer of your inner wall being broken down. It’s just for show, but she’s taking it literally. She has a knack for talking filthy. Here you are losing it. Her hand holds you by the base and pumps you - rubs your balls for good measure, pushing, soothing, encouraging - and Karina’s eyes shimmer while her mouth shifts, something more shrewd, vicious.
“You fit so well here,” she gasps, “God, I wonder how it’ll feel when you stuff up my tiny pussy-”
Your head falls back and you’re swearing. Clenching your fists while your elbows start to slide back.
“Karina,” you say again, because it’s easier to speak than think. “I’m- I’m,”
Her lips pout, shaking her head, disappointed. “No. Don’t,” she sighs, “Don’t you dare,” she says next, “please, I want it inside, inside me - in my pretty little pussy, make me feel good, so full, want your - mmm,” you see her eyes close, biting her lip at the idea, whining, “you’ve dreamt of cumming inside me - breeding me, knocking me up for fun-”
This girl is something else - good on you to match up to her craziness - and you’re biting your lip along with her as well, watching her hand slip under to her clit while she holds your dick between her tits, thighs shaking as she spreads - it’s ingrained into your head, the sight of it. She wants you to breed her, or whatever is remotely close to cumming on her - and Karina will keep on asking for your input of all these things she’s projecting, leave it up to interpretation before acting on it. You’ve never thought you’d see yourself be like this, let alone have Karina act this way all for you. You’ll keep pondering about it long after you’ve had your fill - or her having her fill - it could go both ways for all you know.
Still. The girl keeps moving.
“Oh my fuck,” you slip out, different sayings all preaching the same message, “that feels so fucking incredible,” which isn’t enough to describe the present state of things nor does it fulfill the bare minimum of everything either but for Karina’s ego and with her smirk - because that’s how it always was, just feels right.
“You’ve never said anything about it, but you’re obsessed,” Karina taunts. “This mouth, these tits, they’re all for you - you could have me any way you want,” she keeps her hands moving while her head sways from one end to the other, sighing as her tongue stops at her teeth. “Look at you. I’ve never seen you so desperate to fuck a slut like me and claim her like she’s yours.”
She presses inward with her tits. You feel your shaft swell even harder. A lift up, then a drop. Repeat. You’re tensing every muscle in your waist as hard as you can.
“So?” You ask weakly, huffing. “So what, okay- shit. You-”
Next thing you do is pick up right where you left off. Thrusting into her tits and feel your pace fluctuate to the point that it’s gotten so dirty as you’d imagine fucking her cunt could get, hips smacking skin on skin, into the softness of her breasts, wet sounds and gasps let out through every slap.
“Right there, cum,” she mutters, irises foggy, straight out of your wet dreams, leaning her neck forward with her jaw hung open so that you can fuck yourself straight into her mouth, look down at your wobbling hips - throbbing and twitching as she drinks in the sight of you nearing that edge. “Fuck my tits like that, cum all over them, wanna feel, wanna hear how much you want me.”
You say her name, or at least try to. The sound incoherent, broken, and apologetic; just downright humbling. The best thing you can do is make good on your part. Your cock is so deep in between her tits, the messy slick and warmth enveloping you wholly; fingers doing the little adjustments, a rough measure of how her pussy will wreck your dick later - dragging her breasts across the sensitive edges, the lightest touch of her fingers at the top, flicking the underside. It’s too much, too fast, too-
“God, Karina-”
“Oooh,” she beams, ecstatic. “Oh my god.”
Soon you feel yourself spilling everything in the tightest spot of her breasts, mouth slacking as she watches in awe of your cock tensing and erupting your release all over the skin of her chest, her throat. Her chest heaves along with the pulsing, shaking her tits soon after, gently pumping out the remnants of white, squeezing. It’s unholy what she’s doing, eyes glassy and spit slathered across the space, face flushed and chin dripping with your cum; and she lowers herself to where your shaft is in line with her face, pursing her lips - like some money shot - full and getting an appetizer of what’s to come. You ghost your hand to the back of her head, cautiously - the hand between her legs treats to her clit, the other wrapped around your shaft and smacking your dick on her cheek, so it’s a definite premonition come to life: her on her knees and dreamily staring at your dick while she’s soaking up your white hot mess.
“Aww, well that’s too bad. Couldn’t hold it at the first go. Shame on you,” mutters Karina, grinning and letting out a soft pitiful laugh.
“You’re fucking insane.”
“And what are you gonna do about it?” she asks, patting your ass in comfort. She massages her tits right in front of you, the webbing of cum spread across the inner parts of her mounds, in the gap of the heavy curves. “I can’t believe you- God, you came so fucking much.”
You keep on staring while you’re fighting for the last bits of consciousness left - like if you hit the canvas in a boxing match, and your coach helped you up with counting: one, two, three, four, up, up, up, up; you’ll try to focus on the breathing, take your time, continue to blink while the rest of the world fades out from your vision and all that’s there in the middle is Karina’s sluttiest form fully culminated. That’s all you see: the right angles and curves of her breasts, well sculpted and detailed that you’ll keep observing in reverence. It’s so much to process, the first glance at the scene of the crime, all over Karina, unreal and cute and just- perfect. You’re not dreaming, the nerves in your body overloaded with stimulation to properly conclude that Karina was purely made as a vessel to take limitless loads of cum in and all over her outright beautiful body.
“Well-” You sigh heavily, a weight lifted off your shoulders. “I’m kinda- ugh. Yeah.”
But Karina still has you on the palms of her hands, deciding what’s enough on her terms.
Because one second later, she spreads your legs more and slides her tongue up from your balls and upwards against the underside, then to the tip. She giggles at the feeling of you snapping to attention from the contact, and you sharply inhale at the sensation, ready for more.
“You should know that you have to deal with me the right way,” adds Karina. “This was just the start.” She then glances down to her fingertips, picking up the cum smeared all over her chest and licks it up, eyes fixated on you with interest while alternating the treatment of her lips to her fingers, to your cock. “Still speechless about my performance?”
You roll your eyes, flaring your nostrils. “Do you do this with every guy you get in bed with?”
Karina laughs at that, batting her lashes. “Not really. But if you’re gonna shut me up, make sure it’s with your cock.”
Her brows light up in excitement when rake your fingers into her hair, pull her back, at the point where she surprisingly gasps. You flick her hand away from your cock, notice her mouth drop lower, expecting you to do as she says: plug one hole up for the time being.
You don’t do that, though. Your mouth finds hers and it fills the space for the moment.
A moment where the intimacy reaches the sweetest. In all the right ways, you’re defying her wishes through actions rather than words. Karina forces a high-pitched hum down your throat, clashing her teeth into your face, catching your lip in the midst, pulling. You’re sure she wants to see you hurt - she’s already done that - two can play at that game.
Your hands slot themselves at the slides of her face, gripping, eager mouth keeping you focused on the task at hand, and it’s second nature when her arms wrap around your neck, lifting her up from the floor. She won’t stop giggling, laughing; the noises a spell of their own, cursing you - an unsaid promise that you’ll give to her even when you’re flipping her around back on the mattress.
The weight of you two creaks the springs when Karina rolls herself over and finds herself on top of you. You feel her slick folds glide up your leg, the stickiness mixing in with your skin and tainting. Her conquest doesn’t stop there, until she settles the heat over your cock, grinding, the ache alone enough to make you writhe in wanting.
She flips her head over to one side, breaking the kiss, falling back down for more. Her eyes and yours are both out of focus, panting heavily. She’s fucking unbelievable, a red herring that you had all the wrong ideas for, finally seeing the truest form of her nature being awakened.
You say something remotely close to your thoughts.
She looks at you, astounded.
Sighs.
You feel her hand cradle your head tenderly.
Meets your forehead with hers and smiles.
Tracing a finger to your jaw, pinching the skin soothingly.
“You’re going to ruin me,” Karina whispers, kissing your cheek. “I hoped it was you to be the last one I try my luck with.”
You close your eyes because it’s the truth.
Your hand shoots up for the headboard behind you, gripping. She helps grab the other arm and pins them together, captures your lips once more and it’s too intoxicating to fight against. She continues to grind her hips against yours, feel the heat of her cunt and her folds glide above you.
The teasing is insufferable, feeling her warmth wash you over.
“I’ve waited long enough.”
The words are at the tip of your tongue, but they won’t come out.
“I’ve always wanted it to be you,” she carries on, softly laughing as you’re crumbling underneath her weight. “And now, you- and this cock, is mine. Mine, mine, mine, mine, mine.”
She dips your cock in, sinking, slowly, the inches getting swallowed up in increments. You moan in response, kissing her collarbone. You’ve imagined what it would be like, prayed that one day you’d get the glorious chance to be inside this wonderful heat. It’s something else, like a long reward that you’ve sought out for but it's the fact that Karina’s tight cunt is practically making you choke where you could die and be happy with it.
“Jesus fuck,” you groan, the fibers in your body tensing. She just sighs, hoists her hips up, and sinks back down again.
She does it again - and again, and again. The movement alone; painstakingly slow and increasing with every passing second. Her hips seizing yours in place and fucking you like that’s all she’s meant for; like this opportunity was a once-in-a-lifetime moment and she’s going to take every advantage of it. As if she feared you telling her to forget everything about tonight and move on like it’s normal.
“It’s not even fair, the way you make me feel,” sighs Karina, yielding to the pleasure, head dipping down. “I should’ve known - fuck, I really should’ve known. Why didn’t we do this sooner?”
Your hips match hers in a dance, unable to answer. Unwilling to, actually.
Because you’d rather save the words for later and live in the present, her body consuming you at a rate that shouldn’t be humanly possible. The way she rides on top of you, head and shoulders and arms invading every corner of your being, reigning fire. It’s so fucking good - her cunt, the warmth, the feeling, it’s impossible to think straight and there’s a part of you in the corner of your mind that’s jumping for joy. Walls tearing down from within, freeing you.
If you’re not careful, it’ll be even worse when you’re guzzling your cum into her tight pussy before she even has had the chance to fuck your cock properly. She’s holding you hostage, bounding your hands with hers - a beautiful punishment to undertake. The moans and sighs alternate, complimenting one another as she continues to jut her hips forward and back - back and forward. “I hate you,” she’s saying, “I hate how you had the fucking guts to not let me try.”
God, it really is pathetic for you. Karina figuratively digging her fingers into every nook and cranny of your brain, making you want - want to lose it, to be desperate, to be the version of you that’s capable enough to go beat-for-beat with her. The groove of your index and thumb settle at her waist, picking up the pace, use the drag of her cunt across your cock, but Karina grasps your jaw, mouthing an ‘ah, ah, ah’ as a consequence for your eagerness.
Slamming her ass back down, she chokes an utterance out of you, “Fucking- Karina-”
And Karina hums, letting her lower half do the work. “What’s wrong?” she asks, all innocent and sweet that doesn’t cover her sinful act. Perfectly calculated in her head of how she’s working you up. “What are you gonna do? Fuck me?”
She took the words right out of your mouth.
She finally managed to break you.
You’re not nice about it, either: breaking the little restraint from her hands, hooking your arms underneath her shoulders, turn her over and yank her hips back to yours.
The gasps. You want more.
Karina tests the waters again when she breaks free from your grasp, forcing you to push her down on the mattress by the head, claw your fingers into her scalp, raise her up to flush her waist and hold her mouth open, taking account of the newly formed arch in her back - the perfect fucking bell curve.
She sighs again. Not in shock, no. In relief. Satisfied, ecstatic, excited, as if she’s finally getting what she wants - for you to have enough and put her in her place. “God, yes. Fuck yes. Fucking do it. Do it! C’mon-”
You slip yourself inside and shut her up for a second, feel her walls clamp around your throbbing member. “Like this?” You ask, snarling into her ear cuff, pulling her by the hair where she won’t even complain about the pain. “Want me to be like this with you from now on?”
“You have no idea,” Karina says, nodding frantically, the arch of her hips moving backward against you. “How much I needed this from you.”
Pushing your buttons and limits is what she does best.
So you grab her by the throat, give a sloppy placement of your mouth at the corner of her lips, forcing her to look up and back. The angle where your cock is embedded rips her apart at the first slam. You’re going to fuck her. You’re going to fuck her ruthlessly. Fuck her cunt so bad like you’ve always wanted to the day she accidentally flashed herself at you and the image of her figure burned into your memory.
She keens when you bottom out completely, filling her up to the brim with your cock. Stokes coming along easier and easier as the claps of skin start to reverberate around the walls of your bedroom - thrusting up into her cunt and not giving a fuck about the rest.
Karina tugs at your hair, finding a place to hold herself together, hips stilling and moving and eventually freezing. You’re up to the plate now, dishing out the real work far better than her.
You are going to break her. Pound her ass. Bounce her cunt all over your dick, listen to how her breaths shudder and choke in the stale air with every upstroke. Your mind is working double time - trying to figure out how much she can take, where are her sensitive spots and capitalize on the weak points.
The hints are in her body, you take that into account. She takes in every inch with her cunt, eyes fluttering shut, sighing in complete adoration. Willing to let you pour every ounce of your being onto her; these feelings, these frustrations. A place where you can let your imaginations run wild, her body a sacred temple built to ruin, in all of the harmonious sounds that come out of her mouth, occasional screams to let you know what you’re doing is right.
When she cradles the side of your head again, staring forward at the mirror placed behind your bed along the wall, she grins, watching you place a kiss along her throat, leaning her head back to deepen the angle, runs a hand over yours, treating itself to one of her tits. “Baby, you can never have enough of me.”
That earns her a firm grasp of your arms, pulling her closer. She shouldn’t even be able to speak, let alone have this much fun. You push her down back on the bed, hands sliding down her waist, stopping at the indent of her hips, dragging your cock out and yanking her ass back in. “Do you ever fuck your girls like this?”
“Are you always this talkative during sex?”
“Not exactly,” her breath hitches when you bend over the swell of her ass, swipe your finger above her clit to tease. “I’m eager- ah, eager to see,” she bites down her moan when you spread her sopping pussy lips apart, feel her leak even more on your cock, “how far you’d go-”
You’re getting there, that’s for sure.
Now you’re wondering what else you can do with her hips up and knees spread wide.
“Stay right there,” you say, pressing a hand down her spine to deepen the arch, her ass getting bigger at your waist, palm full of fine skin, “and let’s see.”
Her fast shriek registers a second after you smack the surface, the sound mimicking the crack of lightning.
You slap her ass, impale yourself back in, watch as your cock disappears from your view.
Karina’s face dives into the sheets, muffling her scream.
“Big mistake,” you growl, seeking your fingers into the roots of her hair, snatching. You spank her again.
And again.
And again.
The punishment and reward: you smack her ass, fuck into her, feel her body blossom with heat and flushed with crimson; handfuls of sheets or pillows or anything that’s within reach. Her cunt gushes even more, the throaty moans hiccuping as her body convulses more because of the blowback, and she’s still smiling.
“God- oh my God,” Karina pants, fingers back between her legs as she throws her ass back now, completing the motion. “So forceful.”
You cup the sides of her waist, press your fingers over the blotches of red, skin rippling each passing second your hips flush with hers. The sounds of the smacks and the gentle creaks of the bed are already erotic enough that the spanking in between is just the cherry on top.
All that Karina has to do in this situation is to simply ride out the wave of pleasure, body slightly jaded through every firm impact of your cock weaving itself inside her cunt, the vice closing in every millisecond.
“-so good. You’re so good,” spits Karina, eyes cinched shut; a sharp inhale when you reach that spot, body seizing. “K-keep using my cunt, just like that- wanna feel your dick ruck up inside-”
You’re grasping at her neck, deepening the angle. You want to melt into her, to feel everything. To fill her mind up with nothing but just you.
“You did this to me,” you grit, pulling her back on your cock; listen to her stutters for an answer. “This is all on you.”
But she giggles, head swiveling forward and face first into the pillows, but her wailing still breaks through. She comes back up for air soon after. Whatever she can get, “The plan, baby,” she’s telling you, “It was all part of the plan. Always.”
That twists your mind in more ways than one. Her mouth, her hands, her body, all within arm's reach. You grasp at her tit again, drive your cock back into her cunt, her moans inching up an octave, and the shimmer coming out of the corner of Karina’s eye gives you all the more reason to keep going.
“I’ll break you until you’ve had enough,” she breathes out, and her face contorts to something remotely pained, “please, for the love of fuck- don’t stop bouncing my pussy on your- fuck!”
It hits you when you’ve finally worked Karina to stop talking. Breathless. Heaving. You sigh out of rapture, the feeling washing over you like you got dunked in water. A new enlightenment fully realized - the full manifestation of her creation, and now she’s on the receiving end of it.
You give her two more firm strokes inside her; drag yourself out and rub your tip over her folds. She wiggles her ass in response, tempting you. Having another fill as her cunt clenches your cock once more, slick soaking up your skin until the friction is almost seamless, siphoning every part of your being just for her.
This angle is dangerous: the way her stomach is nearly flat, you find your bearings above her, pushing in, too deep, holding her by the hips, anchoring, knees apart and at an angle where they would be if she was kneeling on a pew. Instead, you grab one leg, then the other - get your palms full of her waist in supplication as the undersides of the peak of her thighs meet yours, curves rippling on impact, thrust your cock into her open cunt where you’re rubbing all of the spots at once, gliding in so easily where the pace alone really sets itself into place. Her hand tends to one of her tits, hopelessly keeping it in place while you’re hooking her back for that arch and cementing the motion as your own. The time of teasing and playfulness is over, as you’re chasing to make the aches in her body a problem and sever all the nerves in her system until you can visibly see her limbs shudder - fuck out a complaint from her lips to make you stop and not act so greedy about it; but then your mouth is back on her again, hoping to sedate her thoughts as you let your lower half keep up the work.
Then you sigh something between the space of the lips, an undertone: “You like this, love?”
A nod is the only response she can give you, mouth parted and unable to coherently say anything in particular, so grab her chin.
She’s getting there. You know. You can tell.
“This pretty little cunt, all for me, no?”
Karina mouths a ‘fuck’, biting her lip immediately after.
“I’ll use you in whatever way I want.”
Her hand swoops over and presses your forehead against hers, whining in pure euphoria.
“Let me hear you,” you urge, hand moving up so you can close her mouth, lighten up on the pressure so that she speaks a bit more freely. “I want you to say it.”
Karina locks onto your eyes, searching for the right words in your head, and you know she will-
Because Karina knows that she’ll be good for you. Your perfect little fucktoy. A personal slut who’ll always let you have and you know this well enough since it’s taken you this long to finally see it. “Oh baby it’s all yours, it’s all yours, it’s all yours. I promise- I promise that it’s all yours and it’s no one else’s- I promise it’s only yours just keep fucking-”
To say that your ego was inflated would be an understatement. But man, words can not describe how much you wanted her to scream it out at the top of her lungs.
Your groaning matches hers in volume, the bedframe not too far off to scrape across the hardwood. You’re pretty sure that the springs will bounce along with your bodies as well.
“So pretty,” you praise, kissing her. “I’m gonna have this cunt all to myself. Whenever. Wherever-”
Karina’s head lolls back and up, clutching onto your neck for added support. Heaving as you’re fucking the air out of her and makes her voice have this raspy tone attached to it: “That’s cute. You won’t have to look very far now that there’ll be one room for us to share.”
You pause, blinking. Your finger moves a wisp of her hair away from her face, her eyes widening and fulll with sparkles. Never in a million years, you’d find yourself to be in this position - inside of Karina - but here we are. No need to move fast when you’ve done the hard stuff already.
“So what,” you say, picking up a stable pace in her cunt, saving the dissipating control where you can. What’s there to be left said when it’s already shown? “It’s bad news for you because I’m gonna have you every chance I can get.”
“You wanna let the whole world know how rough you’re fucking me? Be my guest,” she tells you, palm braced to your waist and moving her hips in this body-roll motion, biting her lip as the entity of sin returns in her mind, taking over.
“I’m too good for you,” continues Karina, light-hearted and giddy, as if she’s not trying to milk every bit of you into her fucking pussy. “And here I thought I knew everything about you.”
She’s right about that. Fortunately, this is more than just a dream. This is reality. You have endless memories with her as it is, and you’re positive that you’re excited to create more of them with her.
“I guess you could say this is one more secret kept away.”
A hand to your face, gentle. Loving. “My handsome boy.”
“Fuck you.”
“You are.” Karina breathes with an airy laugh, voice getting hazier. Cock drunk and fucked out of her mind. It’s working. “So hot.”
“Gonna talk?”
“Fuck-” she then sighs, hissing, and the smirk fades from her face, something more warm, languid, laid back. Her mind is gone. “Fuck.”
You nod and give her a smirk of approval. Proud of your latest curation. The girl that everyone wants, only wants you. The beauty in that exclusivity lifts a weight off your head, and you’re far inclined to accept it head-on.
“How bad do you want me?” You ask, biting down a kiss to push some life into her. Tears welled up at the corners, letting her feel every inch where you could take it.
“I should be asking you, how far are you gonna hold out for me?” Karina purrs. “I’ll give you what you want if you let go first.” She tells you, pulling her body upwards and shifting the limbs around before you find yourself sliding back into her where the angle is at her cunt’s hottest point. A spot where you’d never turn back on.
The pressing of the crease at her knees, legs pushed up high. Your cock is so embedded and consumed by her pussy that you’re having trouble staying upright.
She then says this mantra - a phrase said differently but its message is very clear: “I’m all yours,” she wails, “I’ll always be yours if you let me- fuck! Only let me have this cock all to myself.”
It’s happened multiple times before in your life: being wrapped around her finger. But this- this takes the meaning to a whole new level. Her body claims you as its own and you’ll surrender to that discovery for as long as you walk on this earth.
The strokes keep going, the mindnumbing sensation coming to its fated end - that blissful release and last bits of pent-up feelings of Karina; her cunt a glove, sheathing your cock perfectly with every thrust, clenching around your girth to pump you out.
You’ve already laid the cards on the table a long time ago or- even now, when she’s seen you in the most vulnerable state, fucking into the mattress so deeply and loudly that you’re not even worried about the potential noise complaint coming from the neighbors.
She’s calling out your name. Just your name. Nobody else’s. Telling you how to keep fucking her. Hard. Fuck her poor little cunt until you’ve dumped every last bit of your load in her and fill her until she’s leaking out white between her legs.
“Baby, I can feel you throbbing. Are you gonna cum? Gonna cum so fucking much- Please, I want it. I need it. Just- fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck-”
She loses first.
And my lord, she’s fucking wrecked.
You bottom her out and hold her hips in place, cunt quivering and her toes curl and feet in the air, moving with what little mobility they have left because you’re pressing down the underside of her thighs, yelping and wailing and screaming to the point she might break the fucking glass on mirror and windows.
“Baby. Baby, I can’t fucking move- you son of a bi-”
Karina’s pussy squelches around your cock, a new layer of slick added to the mix of spit and precum. You pull out halfway and rub her clit at an inhuman rate, feel her liquid sputter out, hit some parts of your body, squirting.
She’s squirting even more when you’re slapping the head of your cock across her pussy lips, watch her body spazz out and tense up almost like she’s having a seizure or going into shock, blabbering complete nonsense and you’re kissing her harshly on the fine column of her throat.
You could care less, because all you just want to do is fuck Karina, feel the glide of her cunt become even smoother than before. Read into how her body responds to yours and the mess just gets even more filthier. The sounds- God, the fucking sounds. It’s a perfect harmony.
The pace steadies with the beat of your heart, thrusting your cock into her cunt and keep her figure moving until she’s able to gather her thoughts, finding the right words along the teeth to where she says: “cum in me, fuck your cum into me,” and the sobs compliments her heaving. “Please, I want it. Give it to me. I wanna be full-”
It lights a fire under your ass, every ounce of your being finally collapsing.
You’re managing where you can; burying yourself in the deepest depth of Karina’s pussy, cumming in the hottest point - and the senses and nerves in your body are contracting and expanding in all the right places-
Your body and Karina’s: finally becoming one.
Your cock and lips are the sole sources of connection to her as she coos at the multitudes of cum filling her pussy up.
The embodiment of perfection. The tightness. So snug. You can feel it. Every fiber of your being let out through your release and her small little hole - holding your cock through the pulsing, legs frozen as your arms slither to Karina’s back, exhaling so hard that you’re certain one of your lungs might break.
“That’s fucking amazing, baby. Oh, baby, keep giving me your cum - I need- I need it, ah. God-”
You could feel your vision start to blur in and out of blackness, her whimpers and soft moans a gentle sonata, soothing through your high as her fingers grazing across your skin is enough contact to course electricity through you. And you rest your head against hers, taking asylum in the space above her shoulder, hips slowing and breath racked with exhaustion. Her hand rubs against your lower back, massaging the last bits of cum deep while the rest of her body goes limp, sweat glistening all over her skin as if she got baptized, finally blessed with the afterglow.
“So much cum,” she’s saying, over and over, a prayer in itself, “There’s so much cum in me.”
You release the restraints of your hands from her body, pulling on her side until her legs start to tangle with yours, cock still wrapped around her pussy, unable to leave or pull out. Her thumb swipes across your eyebrow, tapping the temple. Internalizing the events that occurred just now, reeling away from the pure emotions and the mere point of it all.
At last, you and her are both drained. Like you’ve gone twelve rounds with her. You’re willing to go one more, because she’ll want that too.
You’re then combing Karina’s hair down, patting the back of her head while she leans into your chest cavity and showers your collarbones with kisses. She nestles her face deeper when you bring her closer, swooping the sheets from beneath until it covers both of you.
It’s comforting. This new home.
It’s everything.
“Don’t sleep yet,” you whisper to her, kissing her forehead while her eyelids flutter lazily.
Her head tilts. There’s a slight shake on the ends of her fingertips; she brings them close to her face. You gaze down to see her mouth try to form a few letters - a word - only say nothing at the end of it.
“It was always you,” she breathes, the projection alone a new belief to instill. Your face shifts to something confused, thrown off. But you’ve repeated and reciprocated the same thing even though most of it was unrequited. “Part of me was worried for like- the longest time, and now-”
You hush her, her body sinking more into your touch, the warmth encapsulating her like a cocoon. The aches soon settle in and you let the pillowed conversations flow to a more interesting topic.
–
When the next morning comes around, your mind is doing its best job to make you succumb to the inner machinations of your visions. The effects of the alcohol still present - which explains the partial dizziness, though your memory is kept intact. Most of it feels a bit smudged, like the faint image of a mirage of some haven out in the blistering heat of the desert. Soon your eyes are filled with the endless plane of the ceiling above, and you feel a whole lot lighter-
The weight pressing down on your arm was no more.
You arch your back, feel the limited mobility in your lower half, and inhale deeply.
A prop of your elbow betters your view; realizing the sheets were off your body, your legs slightly spread apart, feel the shocking tingle of nails scratch along your skin, crotch surprisingly warm - not to mention wet.
Karina looks up with a neat pop off the head of your cock, an airy laugh passing through her lips, slides her tongue up the length before she carries on with bobbing her head between your legs, cock hardening in the heat of her mouth.
“Jesus fuck-”
You feel her hand wrap around you, grinning, biting down a patch of skin near the base. She pumps you once, maybe twice, and tilts her face sideways when she sees your jaw slack and lips salivating.
Well. It's one hell of a way to say good morning.
“Aw, did I scare you? Well, you better enjoy this because I won’t be waking you up like this unless I feel like it.”
That’s how all things go, unfortunately. The ways Karina wants you to do these favors of hers.
Except now-
You can bet your ass that you’ll love every fucking second of it.
It’s a silly rational thought, but common knowledge nonetheless:
You are madly in love with Choi Jisu.
Not even the strands of time could weave a better, clichè story of what’s already been set in stone; or the countless times Lia has made herself home in the throes of your hideaway from the world, every new story and encounter with it’s twist through each shared moment.
Sure, there’s a lot of instances that you and her can recall back on, so let’s gloss over a few:
The first time you invited her presence was for a study session. You insisted that the spaghetti tasted good until realizing that the pesto had expired by three weeks - where she had to stay over for the night unintentionally because you couldn’t even manage to get up to the bathroom. Though, one ice pack to the forehead and the magnetizing hug was more than enough for you to ignore the fact she snagged your lacrosse team hoodie as for her keepsake - hood drawn up and pooling her raven locks to the sides of her face, the hems covering her most of her hand but her fingers exposed - you can’t deny that she looked comfy.
Among the other times, you’re just in your apartment, serenading her with your okay-but-presentable piano skills of covers from her favorite movies. (She had to make you hers when you played La La Land but it sealed the deal.) Not long after that, some of her things start to make their way into your place: the violin case, the scent of cherry blossoms spreading from room to room, and the collection of vinyls hung up in the living room. You don’t complain. There wasn’t a point in saying anything. Lia would disappear from your peripheral for a few minutes and come back with her cropped black tee and your pair of oversized sweats that cover her toes. So yeah, there's no point in drawing up a complaint.
It’s all in the little moments; living within these four walls - filled with memories and moments that you don’t want the rest of the world to see, her on your lap while you’re dealing with deliverables and other times where she’s bringing food for you and her to share. That’s usually how this all goes. Some of the tasks get completed, then you tab out to see what else is left to do, and Lia waltzes in terrorizing the productivity bubble. She doesn’t care because she knows what the fuck she’s doing: cocoa butter hair in messy waves, fixing the watch on her wrist, talking about her schedule for the day. Doing her wasn’t on the to-do list, but was heavily implied, considering the fact you saw her up with nothing but your sweats while making breakfast.
Technically speaking from common knowledge:
This isn’t the first time you’ve seen Lia in your clothes.
You could conjure up all the thoughts in your mind as to why you liked seeing her that way.
–
If you’re being completely honest with yourself, it’s always a wonderful sight to see.
Morning sunlight beams through the curtains as she walks past the open doorway; the highlights alone are trapped in this mixture of honey gold and coffee brown, presenting itself like a Renaissance painting coming to life. One second your vision focuses on the blurry silhouette, the next your eyes are greeted with a fever dream, blessing and inviting all the same.
You’re pinching yourself mentally - just to check - and yes, it is most definitely not a dream. Her eyes stay on you, shifting yourself up until you’re against the headboard of your bed, soaking the image of her: perfectly colored with those dirt-colored eyes and rose-tinted cheeks, radiating so brightly that the worry of drying up your eyes comes as a second thought.
There’s nothing new about this: just the usual lazy Saturday mornings you’ve shared with her.
She sighs so beautifully, having no care in the world. The flutter of her eyelashes is so seamless when her arms are raised up over her head, stretching out the stiffness of those springy limbs and muscles.
You’ve spent countless days, hours, nights even, to piece it all together in everything that revolves around Lia. From the mannerisms and tone she uses with others the readable expressions just by the small quirk of her lip or flared nostrils. Lia proudly wore her heart on her sleeve. You learned right away: a bit overwhelming was the coined phrase you proclaimed. Building each other up where others fell a little behind in: always thinking ahead, taking all of the things into consideration; and Lia was in the same headspace as you, strategizing wherever she saw fit.
But it didn’t take much for you to conclude on the fact that confidence was a weakness.
She was flooding in it, wherever she went. Whatever she wanted, she would get. If things didn’t go her way, she accepted it fully. She’ll happily walk past the open door held by you - not as an expectation, but as one of the many things you’d put an effort into. When you take her out for a date, she’ll show up outside your workplace and return the favor. You snuggle your face deeper into the pillows on a lazy day; because you know that she’s not far, either close by or already up to start the day.
As if the heavens parted the clouds for you after a gloomy day riddled with darkness, you’re pretty sure the same effect is applied here.
She’s in your hoodie (as always). However that doesn’t stop the unveiling of skin little by little the more she does these morning stretches, the fabric at the waistline lifted up to where you see her hips, cast in the cotton of her underwear. You can picture yourself thumbing away at the surface, at the ends where the threads don’t meet, cup your palms shamelessly around the plush of her ass, or even watch her slip on a pair of your pajama pants with her backside blatantly pointed towards your direction.
Okay, she knows what she’s doing. You’ve been in this position for over three years, and you’re still finding out new things to discover.
She clears her throat once she turns around.
“What’s on your mind right now?”
You lean your head back when Lia starts to shuffle herself back onto the bed, hands and legs moving until she finally settles her bearings, straddling your hips.
“Not work, obviously,” you answer, feeling her palms on your face as she tips her head, studying. “I just don’t wanna get out of bed just yet.”
“Funny,” Lia laughs, slipping her fingers behind your neck, “I was just thinking the same thing.”
“Pretty weird, isn’t it? It’s like we share half of a brain.”
“Except when you were drooling over me a second ago.”
“How could I not?” you muse, darting your eyes away, feeling your face get warmer. “If anything, you bent your ass over for me to see on purpose.”
She tilts her head, and quirks her lips near a grin, she doesn’t need to give you an explanation.
You’re speaking your truth for her.
Her hips press down on your groin, curling her fingers into the ends of your hair, feeling you squirm in the slight change of pressure. “You don’t have to be shy,” voice low and gentle, “I know you, you’re enjoying this.” You see her hand pull the hem of the hoodie upwards, revealing more and more of her waist - ghosting your hands at the uncovered skin; amidst the grey, you’re fighting to urge to pierce the veil, get your palms full of skin and feel and touch up like she wants you to.
“What do you suggest I do, hm?” You ask Lia, tone flat. “Nothing?” Playing on the backfoot in this wasn’t the ideal scenario, but you’re doing what you can to be literal and indirect, “Because I was hoping that you wouldn’t notice.”
But you see: all of that could’ve been plausible if you didn’t sit up on the bed in the first place.
You’re mapping out her face in the back of your mind, imagining the hands wandering all over her legs and hips and waist - admiring the bodywork and fine planes of porcelain, all within arm's reach.
Her breath grazes your cheek, practically turning you to stone. Some thoughts are present in your mind; you’re not sure. The only thing filling your senses was the scent of wintergreen.
Her palm lightly presses into your cheekbone, leaning in for a kiss, but stopping herself by mere centimeters.
Fills the space between the mouths, saying: “I was hoping that you’d do something about it.”
Oh, she knows what the fuck she’s doing.
Lia has kissed you like- countless times. There’s the sweet ones, the ones where you’re both smiling into each other’s faces, the ones where you think time stands still for a few moments, the kinds where you’ve got a bubble entrapping you two, and so much more. All of them have their meanings behind them, but they make you melt all the same.
You could feel her hands roam around your body, legs pressing your hips on opposite ends; every smack and inhale is followed up with a low rumble at the throat, hands shifting up from her waist up to her chest; her forehead pressed against yours, clutching her shoulder blades, keeping her place - she has your full attention now.
A swipe of the thumb across her nipple, then a pinch. The hoodie rucks up higher on her body.
Her arms come into play, speeding up the process of cotton being discarded.
Lia is your block of marble - waiting to be molded and chiseled and chipped away - crafted by yours truly where you’ll get on your knees in adoration and give your reverence as you proffer your lips and tongue all over her body.
She’s so easy to gratify - the way that her sighs and moans mesh into one sound or another, feeling the heat rise in her body. You can tell she’s trying to hold back, murmuring in tongues. Like she’s showing but not telling: I need you baby. I need, I need, I need, I need, I need-
It’s like you - all of you - is oxygen to her, giving her life where she would die if she didn’t have enough. It’s never enough, and you know this. In the cosmos that lie behind those melted shades of sable, glassy, and an ever-growing pit of blackness, where you could see yourself falling into them time and time again because they were only exclusive to you. A forgotten light, an eternal flame, you catch yourself face to face with it once more.
The flush of light crimson makes its presence known across Lia’s face: a response to your touch, one that she simply can’t ignore.
You could feel the dampness of her panties lightly settle on the bulge of your underwear, hear her breath hitch just the slightest, all the while her hips grind against yours.
“Yeah,” she hushes, a sultry smile spread across her lips. “You prefer this over the usual caffeine.”
She laughs softly when you groan into her neck, her arms coiling around your neck and shoulders, tightening the noose. Your hand slithers past her lower back, fingers grazing the lace and sliding underneath the uncovered skin. “Always,” you tell her, looking up while she scratches the back of your head: your one of three weaknesses.
Lia then leans away, crosses her hands at her waist, gripping the hoodie.
When she lifts it- that image becomes your second weakness.
You keep looking without hesitation; the fine line of her shoulders, the blotches of red and pink across the canvas, deliciously sweet. Her breasts supple, but have a firmness to them (a guilty pleasure, you’ll admit); she runs her nails across those mounds because she knows that you’ll get your hands full of them soon, get greedy enough to forget about the rest.
“Aw, what’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?” she asks with a coo. Then, gets her thumb and index underneath your chin, tilting your gaze up. “You’ve gone quiet.”
“Were you always this cute?” you muse.
“You know me.”
“Allow me to rephrase,” you’re backtracking, because you just want to hear it yourself. “Were you always this sexy?”
That earns you a firm grind against your length.
And now, she’s laying it down for real: “I’ll make you shut up if that’s what you want.”
–
Here’s weakness number three:
Lia has your legs spread apart, laying on her stomach, tracing a finger along the grooves and veins of your cock, mesmerized at the mere taste of your balls across her tongue. You’ve got your deal in, grinding her sopping folds along your shaft just as a tease - a preamble. Her hair’s tied up in a loose ponytail as she makes her way up the length, pouting her lips at the tip - anticipating the image of your cockhead sealed around her pretty little mouth - how to suck the air out of your lungs with just one swift motion - she’ll relish the moment, savor it - make you forget all of your worries with one decent.
She has you wrapped around the palm of her hand, literally. And somehow, it feels like you were meant to be-
You could feel the graze of her teeth the more she takes you in, the subtle leitmotif of her humming the more you feel her mouth all over, creating a pantomime of dancing and singing along your length, bringing out all the things that make you speechless.
It’s when she has you like this, where everything just feels right.
“Good?” you could hear her say, but her cheek is bulging with your cock up inside where the sound comes less coherent, but those eyes implicate the message regardless.
“Fuck,” you rasp, feeling her teeth graze just right beneath the tip. She’s got you good. She always has.
You’ve got the rough schematic drawn up in your brain. Testing the waters with a gentle thrust of your hips, shoving her head down deeper where she can struggle just a bit. It won’t take you much to make you cum like this. You imagine her saying - all she needs is to soften you up and next thing you know her palms are sliding down from your chest to your thighs. The gentle cup of your balls in her other hand, puts your length in the prime position to fit you in her throat.
She purses her lips forward, trying to cover the base. It’s cute that she can try, but she makes up for it by flicking her tongue on the underside - at the seam - and yeah, your head hits the board behind you.
Lia is the only one who could practically kill you and give you a second chance at redemption.
Knowing that you’ll take that second chance to return the favor properly.
But this is her turn in the chess match. You actually can’t do anything about it.
She crosses her ankles up in the air, sinks her head between your legs again, maintaining tempo. Her hands come into play, doing all kinds of combinations with her mouth and tongue, lapping up the mix of spit and precum.
You are going to lay there and watch.
Her eyes flooded with determination.
Your cock in my mouth, my hands.
The slide of her mouth is addicting.
Try your hardest not to cum.
She’s fucking unreal.
And not even that-
“I want more spit.” Lia declares, both hands on you now, jerking shamelessly with the classic motion that makes you paralyzed from the waist down. Her knees dig deeper into the mattress, raising her body, head now hovering over your cock.
“Go ahead,” you grit, smiling. A moment of grace - to breathe; you know where she’s leading with this. “I’d love to see you try.”
That phrase alone would be your undoing.
Lia puts you right back into her mouth, with no regard for keeping it lighthearted and casual. The grip in her hair becomes a lot tighter, flexing your hips up while her tongue becomes flatter. You’re biting down a curse spilling from your lips, ears focusing on the unholy sounds coming from Lia instead.
She’s not playing around now - mouth slipping and sliding, humming and moving her head in the many ways where you’ve seen your vision turn white before.
You can’t keep this up for any longer.
The head down, head up, the shimmying of her head, puffing her cheeks, cock slathered and wetter by the second-
You pull yourself away, throbbing. The pop of her mouth and gasp is all that she’s left with.
“Hey,” she says, “you weren’t supposed to do that.”
Her ponytail comes undone while the tip of your tongue is caught between your teeth.
All you give her anyway is: “Oops.”
She throws herself onto you, hoping to catch you off guard, but you were ready. Her lips capture yours, wanting to clean up the mess she made over your cock just now, each lick and smack becoming more and more careless in every liplock.
Your hands find her waist while Lia also looks down at the action. “Need to do something about that, don’t we?” She tells you, grabbing your length and dipping your head into her cunt, making both of you groan in unison. “Fuck-”
“Lia, watch yourself,” you huff, jaw slacking when she slides herself in properly this time; the tightness and heat already washing over you while Lia shifts her panties more to the side. “Okay, holy shit girl.”
To keep your mind off of the unrelenting pressure of her cunt wrapped around your dick, you’re leaving chaste kisses across her chest yet again, feeling her fingers card through your hair and dig into your scalp, the shimmy of her pussy finally stopping once she bottoms you out.
She’s laying it out for you again: “You’re gonna fuck my brains out now, okay handsome?”
Your response is in tandem with her breathless state: “Oh, with pleasure.”
The girl just takes and takes and takes. You could feel her smile on top of your forehead when you feel up her breast, slide your hand down her waist, grip her petite ass while she slams her hips back down on your cock.
You’re gripping wherever you can: her waist, her hips, her ass. Any place where you can fuck around with the vice for as much as possible, fucking her senseless like she worked you up to be.
It’s in the forward-back, the up-down. Her ass isn’t kind to your balls when she’s riding along your length.
This was the best way to wake up in the morning.
Lia’s happily bouncing along on your lap - with you trying to keep up with the pulling of your neck, the tugs in your hair, holding her still where you got your cock at the angle to bring it to her cunt’s hottest, molten spot.
She’s so tight, you conclude, that evidence is pretty natural in itself. You love it so much when she’s not making any sense in her words, only plugging up her pussy in the only way you know how-
“Want it,” she whispers, a profession: “inside, please.”
You’re holding her so close, keeping her in place. It’s a one-way ticket to paradise that you’ll take no matter what; the unraveling - so lethal, and an absolute certainty. The bruises are starting to form along the crease of her legs and hips-
You’re laying it out for her now: “I’m cumming.”
Pumping her full, riding out her orgasm. Everything made sense for Lia in that instant.
Strings of cum painting along her slick walls, claiming the last threads for herself - because that’s how it all goes. You’re shuddering, live wire still reactive, hungry for more as the pulsing starts to die down; slowly, lethargically.
A few beats later-
“Fucking Christ, Lia-”
She laps your cock on the bathroom floor; face painted and splattered in ribbons of white, back against the door as the mat at your feet tries its hardest to not slide against the tile.
She licks up the mess while humming gleefully, looks up at you in sweet and treacherous innocence.
She looks down at the cum dripping down her chest, her waist, and even the spread of slick all over her inner thighs-
You don’t mind lazy mornings like these.
(To contradict yourself: they’re never lazy.)
–
The place gets filled up once again with Lia’s honey-saccharine voice, coming out of the hallway with a towel draped over her shoulders.
You give her a look: the same one where no words need to be said to describe the moment - because it’s a look that she’s seen multiple times - and she can easily read your mind.
The look of love. You have it. And so does she.
Lia later rambles on at the dining table about her recent outings and extravaganza's with Yeji or Yuna, fingers underneath her chin and swirling a spoon around her cup of tea. She looks at you with so much attention, eyes shimmering and nodding along while the morning light starts to creep through the window of your living room. You feed her an apple slice to make sure she’s not bored - she loves that.
In moments like these, you’re thankful that it’s shared with her. From her arms bracketing your hips while you clean the dishes, to piggybacking her back to your room, make her land on her back while she laughs and playfully whines like a kid. You shake your head because any response you say will always get brushed off by her.
It really doesn’t matter what’s being brought up, since things just flow that way so well you don’t even have a second thought after.
“You really went at it with me earlier,” she tells you. “Care to explain why?”
“Well,” you’re grinning cheekily, hand to the back of your head, “Didn’t have time to relieve myself in the past week so-”
“Uh-huh.”
“Guilty.” you finally amend.
Lia knows the best parts about you; knows exactly how and where to apply the pressure in the points you’re most vulnerable at. She’s got her fingers and knuckles in every little nook and cranny in your brain. It’s impossible to fight against.
You could say you’ve got the same regard for her too.
She’s sweet, witty, cocky when it counts, well knowledgeable, and has these sparkles in her eyes where you don’t mind stargazing for hours on end. The overall vibe she presents is so cozy, embracing you to a point where you’d be happy to settle and fall asleep in her arms because you can.
There's no place she would rather be than in your arms, feet on top of yours, slowly dancing even if there isn’t any music playing.
Another tender moment shared: you’ll take it for a keepsake, knowing more of those will come along the way.
Nothing more wholesome could ever be like this: the gentle nose bumps, shared smiles, the quick kisses in each others’ ears. It’s straight out of a classic romance novel or movie -or, even when you’re imagining it’s just the two of you center stage at a jazz club and the band’s playing a slow ballad.
Cheek to cheek you are with Choi Jisu - you’ll want to hold her close for eternity.
“Wanna stay inside for today?”
(Here, you’re probably laughing because Lia was already a homebody, so it’s pretty ironic.)
It’s not much to unpack: the findings or purpose one pursues. You know this. Everybody’s different, and that’s not limited to the sex - it also accounts for the experiences and connections you make with someone, exploring the limitless possibilities of what or who you want in your life. You’ve been told that the ‘one’ might be out there and have yet to realize it. No one could ever really pin it down to one reason.
But what’s there to overreact about? You’re a hopeless romantic.
Okay. To backtrack on the hopeless romantic thing, that’s not entirely true; you’re on the eve of something big here, and the intuition is approaching that conclusion by the second.
None of this should be that easy from the get-go. Delving into casual conversation to the nice meals and then the eventual ditziness finds you and her on the bed of fucking each other’s brains out until one of you is practically paralyzed from the waist down. That’s the essential beauty of it, right? The hints and signals are right in front of your face; all it takes is a simple notice of interest that can lead anyone to think if they feel the same way.
You’re not entirely sure, but taking this date with a grain of salt was the best course of action to follow. Besides, it’s too early to delude yourself into thinking about a future with Gaeul.
(Though, it’s worth noting:
She never coined it to be a date; said that it was too direct on the nose. In all fairness, you just needed a plus one to tag along with you. It could’ve been anybody else, but Gaeul was the first person to come to mind. You and her have similar interests - a point of connection strong enough to expand on. She didn’t mind keeping you company, and the fact that she was willing to circles your mind far longer than it should’ve.)
Which brings you to here: standing in front of a timely art piece that looks to be dated from the 1600s. Or- at least that’s what the plaque says on the bottom left corner of the frame. However, you also feel like the people in the room with you are also playing their role like they do in those typical romance movies or serial dramas. You also begin to wonder if people go to an art museum in their free time just to look at fine pieces curated by people who have an obsession for old pictures or to dress up to match the aesthetic and pretend that they know what the hell they’re talking about.
Given how you’ve dressed up for the occasion, they’d probably be right.
Gaeul herself matches the look so well. Her stilettos are one thing, but the bright-colored skirt along with her high socks are doing wonders for highlighting her legs, with her old-fashioned pink top that looks to be from the Victorian era simply bolsters the elegance past your personal rating scale. She’s also got her slightly-thick-rimmed glasses and the low braided ponytail wrapped in a small bow at the end. You can’t deny it, she’s gorgeous. The kind of girl that’s hard to come by and you’ve struck yourself out of the ballpark by getting her here. She walks at a pace, her strut consistent and punctuated with the way her feet are carrying her. It doesn’t help with the fact that you keep thinking about how you’d hold her hanging ponytail when her head is between your legs, or how she’d let you take off her socks with solely your teeth and show that you do more than just run your mouth. You stand behind her by a few inches and just watch that amazing side profile of hers, molded and chiseled by God himself.
Her eyes stay fixed on the piece in front of her. Blinking. Examining. You resist the urge to stand behind her and bury your nose in the back of her head.
You look away for a second only to hear her sigh, and watch as her arms cross over her middle. The stance alone can tell you that she’s the kind of girl that will do damage to you whether you like it or not.
“I don’t know,” says Gaeul, looking left to notice you approach her left side, pointing her lips back to the art piece as you give it a fraction of your attention - staring at Gaeul with the corner of your eyes, thinking of all the ideas your hands could have on her pretty face, her small hands, lifting her by the waist when she hugs you. “This isn’t the actual ‘Starry Night’ painting, is it?”
You laugh, because the question itself was supposed to be rhetorical. “No, it is. Not a replica. The real thing.”
“No, but look,” Gaeul slips her hand around your arm and pulls you closer while she points out to the painting again with her finger. You’ve had crushes on girls throughout high school and college, but there’s a sense of a pull here that’s different from the rest. “This is something that you would do, hm?”
You lean more closely at the painting and feel her face rest along the line of your upper arm. The picture itself was a mix of these yellow circles over a blue canvas - you think - has to do something about admiring the view that nature presents, which explains the artist’s approach with the usage of the abnormal brushstrokes. “Right.” You get the underlying appeal of the painting’s message, that’s for sure.
Gaeul giggles, humming a sound too elegant and pretty for its own sake. You’re playing it cool as best you can. It’s a lot to keep track of her sparkling eyes so full of you within them that you’re nervous to even speak a coherent sentence. She looks dangerously good in her outfit: hugging the curves, the collars and ends of her sleeves dancing in these wavy, coquettish lines. That hint of lace she’s wearing is also cute - only for it to be outshined by her exposed collarbones and neck.
(So, you might be insane here. Try acting differently about it all you want. It’s no use.)
Gaeul then looks at the art piece adjacent to the right - twists her head behind, eyeing the walkway, her gaze now matching yours, cocking her head to the side with her lips pursed.
“Hmm?” she hums, innocently. There’s a minute tug at the corners of her mouth, a small smile. Her teeth start to peek under her upper lip.
You’re holding your breath here for a second or two longer.
“Uh, I didn’t say anything,” you tell her, pulling your lips inward to hide your returning smirk.
Before you and her move to the next room, you’ve deduced that a woman like Gaeul is no mere anomaly. She is intangible, quixotic, reserved, sensible, and the kind of person who doesn’t let anyone get too close for her comfort. There’s a motivation to be seen with her, the way that her grin and shrug of her singular shoulder gives you the implication that she’s into you. Your gaze goes inquisitive when she’s sashaying timidly further and further away from your sight.
–
Let’s take a step back here - go to the drawing board, make a new page. There’s substantial progress here. It wouldn’t hurt anyone to have your input solicited.
Gaeul looks through her handbag, pulls out various items, puts on hand cream and retouches the makeup on her face. You’re on the other end of the table, watching her, listening to the guy nearby do a fantastic take of Take Five on the saxophone with flying colors. Gaeul’s also waving her head from side to side, closing her eyes with a soft smile spread across her lips implying that she likes the music.
As for the art museum trip itself, you don’t take anything away from what you were supposed to look at and write down - probably because the focus shifted from taking notes to getting a conversation going with Gaeul whenever she was curious about a certain piece or at least your interpretation of what work itself. One of the other pieces that you and her take notice of was from your courses that you don’t remember learning a mere inkling about. A piece from the romanticism era revolved around these two lovers, one of them being madly in love while the other is still trying to figure out their feelings and desires, or vice versa; it may be unappealing for your outlook in artistry, but once you saw the meaning behind the paintbrush and use of strokes, the feeling hits too close to home.
“From this artwork, what do you want us to take away from it,” someone probably asked back then - the same kind of question that earns a few eye rolls and those heavy sighs used to hide the bubbling frustration within, gets a good number of people scratching the back of their head - though nobody answers it right away unless it’s the professor.
“Well, that’s not for me to decide,” the professor answers, earning a subtle nod of the head by her, the way the shade of her hair shimmers in the room and how it flows at the turn of her head, glimpses of her skin for you to admire once she has nothing left to say, almost like she was speaking those words to you - waiting for your answer. “The personal interpretation of the painting has to be discovered on your own.”
In a way, he has a valid point. He’s knowledgeable enough to know what he preaches. He’s passionate about this course alone and it really could take a simple business pitch with a pen to get on board with what he’s selling.
You have an idea of what message he’s trying to get across, but maybe you’ve got it all mixed up in between still.
–
The groove of discovery isn’t a straightforward, linear path. Some days your understanding is there, and other times it’s all up in the air; you’re stopping by a food truck near some plaza in the early hours of the evening off the gut feeling that it just feels right; you also find yourself staring at her wide eyes when she gets the first taste of those potato chips she convinced you to buy, wiping a corner of her lips with her tongue.
It’s almost too good to be true, honestly, that she’s sitting next to you at a park bench as the sky above is painted in these hues of purple and orange to reflect off the sunset, her appearance mimicking royalty and you - her knight in shining armor. She looks up to the sky before offering you her bag of chips, the tilt of her head and how she blinks is so - unbelievably enchanting like she’s unintentionally guilt-tripping you even though you’ve done nothing wrong at all. You take up on her offer, keep a mental note of how she’s so attentive in the way that your hands move and the way that your lips punctuate each letter and phrase so eloquently. Her bottom lip is pulled back into her mouth, holding the foil in her fingers so delicately.
You can easily tell. She’s enamored; she keeps hitting your arm lightly and plays along with your inside jokes; there’s also that smirk she does in embarrassment and tries to hide away from but you’re still staring at her anyway.
She stays close to you. Comfortable. Exactly the way you want her to be. You could kiss here right and now and she might be okay with it. You’ll try it eventually, because why not?
Later, Gaeul walks slightly ahead of you, turns around, and takes your hands in hers, standing on her tiptoes to somewhat match your height. “I’m curious about your eyes, how they look,” she says, not that she meant for it to be embarrassing, but something that she’s noticed the first time and now she can’t ignore it. “They’re enchanting.”
“Your smile,” you say back. She flashes that exact smile, wearing it with pride. “I like when you smile that way.”
“My smile is always like this.”
You sweep her off her feet and twirl yourself around. A finger pulls some of her hair behind her ear, grazing a thumb across her temple, careful enough to not ruin the surface.
Gaeul looks up. Her head leans into the touch of your hand, inviting.
This is where it all starts; a genesis of sorts: you drink in the sight of how she is right now, half-lidded eyes, her hands slipping behind to the back of your neck, pulling you in; you, leaning into her body, hands sliding and dipping to the curves where she wants you to hold, keep her in your grasp and unravel her bit by bit; it’s fine to be skeptical, figuring out something new is all part of the learning process.
You turn your imagination into a reality when you finally kiss her.
The pull of her into you elicits this gentle hum rumbling within her lips. Given how her fingertips were clawing into your scalp for a second there, she didn’t even put up a fight to begin with.
The realization of losing her also sets in for a quick moment, the silence alone holding out for longer than it initially should. She continues to blink, teeth capturing the upper profile of her lip just slightly. You might be a bit too forward, but you’re waiting to see what she thinks before you consider dialing it back.
“That’s not fair-” she stutters, tongue to the inside of her cheek, laughing and then tapping your shoulder soon after. “Normally, I- I’d hold out until we got a little farther with how things are currently.” You also notice that she’s not opting to be let go from your touch, or give you this look of confusion with wide-open eyes or a hand covering her mouth. Her fingertip traces along her lips, internalizing what had just happened. “Don’t tell me you’ve been wanting to do that since the second you saw me earlier. ‘Cause if you were, then I’m in really deeper shit than I expected.”
“Might be right,” you mumble. “Sorry, I’m not the kind of person to half-ass things. Not my style.”
“Troublesome,” Gaeul whispers across your lips. You steal a kiss from her again, and this time she gives you a shocked expression. “Hey, again-”
You’re laughing, rightfully so. She’s pulled into your arms as you spin her around - hearing her laugh also when she’s cradling your head, bringing her back down to earth only for her to kiss you the next second, with more force and tongue. She doesn’t stop there. She keeps on kissing, prompting you to give a fair fight. It’s free reign for her - first, the cheek, then the line of your jaw, and the spot where your chin and neck meet that sends your mind reeling.
Gaeul then takes one more kiss before the bus makes its eventual stop, pulling you by the wrist to get inside and take one of the seats at the end of the car, away from whoever might take notice. From there she picks up where she left off; her legs are swung over yours, her fingers keep your head in place as she’s placing these sweaty kisses all over your face once more, causing you to rope her in and slide a hand underneath her shirt to her chest.
“Putting the effort where it counts, huh?” she says when you shift her hips closer to yours. Her giggles are also so pretty that it matches the hot blush colored across her face.
You look over to the rest of the bus, take into account that there was one other person on the opposite end towards the front with their back turned. “Did you have any other place in mind where you want me to do this?”
“No,” Gaeul responds with an absorbed smirk. “Not at all, I like what you’re doing so far,” she’s telling you, upholding with a press of her forehead against yours. “It’s riling me up a bit, actually.”
“Oh? That so?”
Gaeul nods, leaning in for a much softer peck this time, wiping a wisp of your hair. “Don’t be shy, keep going.”
You blink twice at the surprising request, figuring out how to handle this situation - let alone what to say or even do at this point. All of that doesn’t matter when all she wants is you. One second later you’re kissing her again - with much more force through every passing press of your lips until the only thing that she can manage is to tilt her chin up and keep on receiving. Two more pecks couldn’t hurt, and she’s giggling when her hand’s patting your chin, kissing her palm to return the favor.
“How am I doing now?” You ask her again, pressing another kiss to her neck right where the pulse courses rapidly underneath.
Gaeul’s breaths here are dragged out and unshackled; you’re already thinking ahead of what she’ll sound like when she’s reduced to a moaning mess asking for more. She’s on track there but it’ll take a little bit. She nods - and holds your head at bay, “Okay.” That first response is controlled, feeling out the situation. “Okay,” she repeats, her teeth are peeking out across that pretty little mouth of hers. The hum in her throat drops an octave: “you’re doing really good.”
Like you needed any other form of implication; the way that she’s playfully scratching your scalp, eagerly leaning for another kiss, this is good stuff you’re doing. Stay in the pocket with her, and continue doing those same things.
You have to hear that sound from her again. No. You need to hear that sound come out of that sweet mouth, as you slide your hand between her closed legs - pull her closer, closer - and get her within your reach once your palm slips beneath her skirt, feel the sudden hook of her arms around your neck keep her in place. She presses her legs together, trying to maintain the heat in her panties once your fingertips get their first touches. Gaeul hums into your lips, encouraging you, and gives the go-ahead as she opens the space wider in the middle of her thighs for you to capture - her body much rucked up against yours, trying so hard to not come loose. You’ll double down on the reassurance, that’s for sure.
“Fingers, your fingers,” Gaeul grits, hissing; she’s unraveling. “Holy fuck-”
Her fingers are well wrapped to the nape of your neck. You can see her brows furrowed together - the lines of her face crinkling; only for them to disappear entirely, relaxed. She forgets about reality for a moment when you slot your lips perfectly with hers, sinking two of your fingers right down the knuckle of her sopping cunt. You watch as she looks down, lips parted to an ‘o’ shape.
“Fuck, that’s-” she’s babbling, putting her mouth back up with yours - forcing down a moan into your throat, trying to figure out the next thing to say. “Forget what I said, that’s amazing.”
She pulls her in close as much as possible, hips bucking and jerking when your fingers glide gently between her folds, at the slit. It’s worth noting that the gentler your strokes are, the worse it is for her - so you keep the pace slow for now, waste as much time as you can, dip a finger inside, and focus on the graveled breathing by her through every passing second.
Gaeul tenses her shoulders. “I know,” she whispers, thighs closing around your hand. You’re kissing her again - open tongue and head tilted back when you bring another digit into play - her moans are hot, curling your fingers inside and pressing at the clit to keep her from thinking straight, pressing at the hottest point in her body until Gaeul eventually buries herself in your neck, stifling her whimpers when she’s cumming all over your fingers.
“Wow,” you say, breathlessly, smiling as she leans up gingerly to put a kiss to your chin, a job well done.
“Yeah,” mumbles Gaeul. “Yeah.”
You look over to see the person sitting on the opposite end of the car, their back still turned and hunched over; you take that as a hint that they’re probably knocked out cold. Gaeul’s fingers pull your gaze back into her, her face hot pink. She’s got this lazy smile spread on her lips, breathing with her hand palmed to your cheek, eyes dazed and out of focus.
You then decide that you can’t help yourself anymore. Laying her down on the seat and eating her pussy out right here. You can’t stop thinking about it, looking up as her upper half crumbles while she cums on your face. She can try to make you stop if her brain isn’t partly mush, can try all she wants to stop you kissing from down her waist and into her thighs or wrapping your fingers around her legs once you’ve got your mouth clamped to her cunt like it’s nothing - you’ve got her laid back and relaxed, hands sliding south past her middle, thinking of all the pretty noises that you can squeeze from that heavenly voice of hers - Gaeul looks up once her hands meet yours at her hips, unwilling to let you go.
You smile at her before you’re biting your lips without thinking twice.
The way that she says your name too, does something to your brain, man. She needs you.
You almost feel bad to be the one asking for permission first:
“If I eat you out right here, Gaeul. Promise me that you’ll be quiet?”
Gaeul’s mouth drops, before twisting into a devilish grin.
She looks over to the same person you were looking at, lip captured by her teeth. “Worth a try,” she answers, still coming down from her high. Her eyes stay on you. The lust one can get is dangerously intoxicating - it may not look good on others, besides her - the shade of hot pink, her little swollen lips, the way that she has to use her fingernail to bite down. But her hand gently clutches your wrist. “Would you be nice if I said to go easy on me?”
You snort at the question, only because her pleading eyes sell the whole deal to you anyway.
“Asking a lot from me here, darling. No guarantees,” you tell her and descend between her spread legs.
–
You keep spacing out since then: of her, the grip of her fingers deep in your hair; grinding her hips against your face as she’s trying to not yelp or shriek to not wake the poor guy sleeping - now completely giddy and well-relieved. She tried to crush your skull from the tongue fucking you were doing to her just ten or so minutes ago. Not to mention the cursing, it’s hard to believe she can say stuff like that.
She also tells how thoughtful you are walking her back to her place; you know the area well enough to make your way back. You tell her that it’s nothing if anything, it was just more time to spend with you.
Gaeul smiles at that, fixing up her hair like anyone would to keep her hands moving. Her eyes shoot towards the ground before they flashback up at you, which she’ll admit is a bit awkward for her standards. You can’t stop staring at her; she’s that pretty. It’d be worth preaching about for the rest of your life if it ever came to that.
She hands you her phone and you’re doing the same - a simple transaction. The subtle question of ‘it’s okay to call you on this, right?’ rolls off your teeth so easily to where Gaeul gives you a nod to answer. There’s a little bit of wiggle room to grow - filling in the gaps with details as we go - things that will be logged in eventually all with time.
“I’ll be as blunt as possible: I want something fun,” she tells you as if she already had the general idea swirling around your head. Her fingers are fiddling with the zipper of your jacket. As if she wanted to say it differently but ended up with that. A lifeline or rope for you to hold on to - aware that the threads are tearing just a bit, but you’ll grab it anyway because you can. “I’ll bite at whatever you throw at me. Who knows, maybe I’ll do the same to even the odds.”
Slapping a title or caption to this doesn’t always end well - if you’re gonna be honest, it’s impossible to tell whether or not it’ll go the way you hoped for.
“You sure?” you’re asking, smiling. Since that’s the kind of trap that you were hoping to fall into anyway. In the face of love, you’ve always found yourself folding right at the first hurdle.
Especially adding onto the fact that you and Gaeul have known each other to a slight degree; through mutuals, to be more specific. That’s one of the weird things that life can work with: instilling these thoughts about someone and telling them things knowing that it could all go wrong down the line; Gaeul rests her forearms on your shoulders, lets her fingers dance along the back of your head, and nod again with a yeah, you’re already infatuating to me as it already is. It’s so bad, she’s never dressed like this before when you’ve seen her with Liz or Wonyoung for that matter. Her chest and collarbones are out in the open air for you to mark up without remorse, tilting her head back with an arched eyebrow and sly smirk, don’t test me, because believe me, I’m gonna ruin your life from here on out.
You may as well be far gone from the start.
–
“It’s not that important,” you’re telling Gaeul over on FaceTime, tossing your phone onto the mattress and stretching out your limbs. Gaeul on the other end, groans in annoyance, though her voice is composed, playful. “I think we’re just stuck on a few things from what it looks like.”
“But this project with Yujin is also one you mentioned a while back to me,” Gaeul responds, forehead filling the phone screen to check what you were doing, but all she sees is the ceiling. “What are you guys trying to achieve again?”
“What would you do if you were assigned to discover a brand new constellation or galaxy all by yourself? You ask. “Spoiler alert: it’s a lot harder than it sounds.”
“Maybe next time you should bring me to the observatory, that way I can see what it is you’re looking for,” Gaeul says with a lovely hum and laughs at the end of it.
She’s so cute when she’s playful; her voice alone is enough to make your brain chemistry go haywire.
“Well, uh- you know Yujin,” you chuckle, shaking your head. “This is important to her. I honestly think that she’s trying to compartmentalize everyone that’s involved, which is a bit of an overreaction I think.”
Gaeul then sighs, as if she too, is frustrated. “She’s a hard worker. From the outside looking in, maybe she just needs somebody to make her life interesting. Do you know what I mean? I think she’s sex deprived.”
“You-” and you scrunch your nose, trying to hide a genuine laugh because you’ve been trying to say something along those lines to Yujin for god knows how long, and Gaeul flat-out said it in a matter of days. “You’re not wrong.” You then see her put the phone down facing up on the nightstand. “Her timetable is very slim, so I get why she can’t afford to have any distractions.”
“Someone like her should always make time for sex.”
“Are you always this forward?”
“Not always, might be just for you.”
“Consider me lucky,” you muse, tongue to the inside of your bottom lip.
“You boys think of nothing else besides getting between a girl’s legs, huh?
Gaeuls face returns to the screen and all you give her is a pull of your lips inward. She nods when you don’t say anything, proving her suspicions right. You set her off to the side while you keep doing a separate thing to keep yourself occupied while she does the same. While you’re tending to your notes, you imagine Gaeul to be walking around her room; sitting on her bed, or moving to the bathroom or kitchen - keeping a close eye and ear on you and your voice because she’s got a fix on a few interests of yours that outweighs her own. She watches while you give her a few glances here and there. Staying on task was going to be difficult. You text her your address to pass the information without giving a reason as to why. You probably fucked up in that regard. You might’ve.
(She puts a heart icon on the message to send your mind for a loop, telling you to think of it lightly; hey, show me what’s on the shelf behind you, see if you make your bed in the morning - and you’re carrying a conversation with her for more than an hour or so. She’s asking different kinds of questions; the ones that are along the lines of: How come you don’t have a roommate with you, where do you go for groceries, what’s the distance between your place and mine? The curiosity grows to uncover the mystery, you think. She’s laughing when you flash a look at her on the screen before you carry on with whatever task you are doing, acting all candidly when the both of you know well that you’re doing everything to not press the ‘end call’ button.)
“Wait,” Gaeul breathes, leaning closer through the phone screen. “Didn’t you offer to show me what you were working on over some food?”
You’re side-eyeing away, hiding a smile. “I did mention that at the beginning but, yeah.”
“Shoot, okay,” she huffs, dropping her face so that you only see the top of her head, pulling your lips inward to hide the smile. “How bout this: lace or no lace?”
“Woah.” You freeze. “Hang on now.”
“Do you want me to explain it to you?” You could feel the slow-burning rush of heat spread across your cheeks. The phone screen flashes in your hand, and she chuckles. “Easy, cowboy. I know you want to jump the gun with me, but I just wanted to hear your thoughts before I do anything else.”
You’re picturing it once she’s managed to break you, bending down to slip her panties back on, stretching the ends until she lets go and the fabric slaps along her skin. She can’t see it, but your mind goes under. When Gaeul presents it so innocently in the way that it is, it’s hard to believe that she’s able to bend your ego with a few simple words and actions.
“The image of lace - on your body? I wouldn’t share that with anyone else.”
She rolls her eyes, and hums a sing-song tone to tease you. “Alright, don’t tell me you’re getting hard just at the thought of that.” You drop your jaw and that earns you a deadpan. “Would you mind if I surprise you with a color of my choice?”
“You know my color. Well- I don’t think too much of the color. I’m easy to impress,” you reply, nonchalant.
“Oh, I can take my time with the color. It’s just a matter of how long you can hold out.” She’s not posing it as a threat, but the low tone in the delivery is enough to instill a small fear in the back of your mind.
“Pfft, that doesn’t scare me.”
“We’ll see about that. When do you want me to come?” she asks, genuinely.
You make eye contact with her to ensure she’s serious.
“I mean,” you start. The more your mouth freezes, the more embarrassing it gets. “Whenever you can. If you’re free.”
Here, Gaeul tilts her head, confident smirk and tongue to her cheek. “Maybe my punishment is to make you wait. I don’t like the dry response and straight face on top of it. That’s not your look.”
“What do you even achieve out of doing that?” you ask. “You’re holding me out from-”
“Yes, you’ll get between my legs again like last time. But I think you can give me more than that, which I’m sure about. Make me scream until I lose my voice or I somehow lose the ability to walk. Does that sound good to you?”
Part of you likes the fact that she’s got no filter; speaking her mind whenever it feels right.
“Sounds like a test to me,” you muse, taking the challenge head-on. You’re not the kind to back away, let alone have any reason to impress her. You’ll prove your point again when the time is right.
“Give me twenty minutes,” she says to you. The information comes as need to know, anticipatory. You’re teasing her to get here faster: come to my place sooner and we can skip the boring exposition and do more interesting stuff together. “I promise not to keep you waiting.”
–
The time ticks a lot faster and when you realize it, three or four knocks are sounding off on your right. A scuffle of your socks, a swing of the door later, and voila: Gaeul’s in the middle of your doorway, reflecting the same head tilt you’re giving her before she leans forward for a few kisses. It’s real-life b-roll footage, the snapshots and captured moments of love that everyone longs for in some way or another; you’re living in it.
“Mhm,” she hums, arms well wrapped around your neck with wrists stacked. She smells good, her body lighter than usual, letting you pull her closer because she knows you will. “Looks like somebody missed me.”
“Uh uh,” you breathe, laughing in the open space of your mouths, shuffling into the apartment some more, stumbling. Gaeul’s keeping her attire easy with a pair of baggy bottoms that’ll slip so easily out of her legs once you get her to stop moving-
“I’ll have you know that I thought long and hard about what to wear,” adds Gaeul, standing still and taking her sneakers off one foot at a time, her hair pooling from one side to the other. “But then it hit me, why not just keep it casual?”
“Explains the comfy combo,” you’re telling her. You don’t even realize the bag brandished on her shoulder. “Is that-”
“Exactly what it looks like. I don’t have anything tomorrow, so I figured I’d use my downtime more wisely.”
This is fun. Sure, it’s the playful banter, mixed in with the flirting. You’re using every self-restraint you’ve got in your head to not pin her over on the couch and put her hips against yours.
You simply can’t help it. The law of attraction that’s taking place: you like her, and it can’t get any more complicated than that. You’re positive that she feels the same way - to some extent. She rubs the neckbone at the nape, twiddles the ends of your hair. The smile she has is infectious, watches as your eyes wander across the lines of her face, almost like you discovered fire. Gaeul’s lips then fall flat, nodding. This is the second or third time you’re seeing her exclusively, each one more exciting than the last.
“Hungry?”
Gaeul shakes her head, “Hm, kinda.”
“You’re in luck,” you beam. “I was gonna whip something up anyway.”
“Aw, how thoughtful.” She tells you when you’re setting her down, walking over to the dining table with her setting her bag down, following not too far behind. While you’re getting yourself situated, she takes the time to let her head look and observe all the things organized on your shelves and tables, a peek into the inner workings of what makes you tick. You could feel her gaze on you once you’ve got yourself situated at the stove and she finally settles down at the kitchen island, opposite from you with a front-row seat.
You throw a towel on your shoulder, playing the measly bartender part loosely. “Water?”
Gaeul blinks, hums a noise serving as a yes.
“This is just for starters,” you tell her, sliding a glass across the marble before eying the brandy resting at the top of the fridge. “If you want, we can get the good drinks later when we’re bored.”
“I’d like that.”
“Want me to explain why Yujin’s project has been a pain in my ass as of recently?”
She dips her head down, hiding her smile.
“I think I can think of a few reasons why she can be a handful for some people,” she says, sipping a bit of the water before she gestures her head to the fridge, wanting to get right to business without wasting any time. “But you care a little too much, so we need to ease your mind a little.”
“Just trying to not be overbearing; because she’s a piece of work, but I love working with her regardless,” you tell her. Next thing you know the brandy’s been brought down on the counter. While you’re doing that, you’re finding the gaps in her schedule. When’s the next time you’re free? There’s the proposal that you’ll bring her out for a nice picnic, drinks with charcuterie, maybe toss in painting to the mix while you’ll blatantly stare at her cottagecore dress with a wine glass in her hand-
“Are these your notes?” She asks, pulling one of your many notebooks closer to flip through the pages, looking at the different constellations that are already there, the ones that are easy to recognize. Her eyes dart to you when you’re sliding over a different cup filled with brandy for her to take, taking a sip while you glance over at the two sandwiches on your pan. “Wow, you weren’t kidding. This is quite a lot of work she has you doing.”
“The name of the game, essentially,” you’re grinning, transferring over a tablet with pictures of different stars and galaxies from an album you curated. Some are straight out of a textbook, the others you and Yujin have found on separate occasions.
“Has anyone ever told you that you’re actually a nerd?” Gaeul asks, mockingly, swiping the screen as you give her an unimpressed expression.
You crowd behind her shoulder, going through the gallery, leaning her head against yours as your nose brushes her cheek, sighing in approval. Your hands have a mind of their own, slithering around her waist, planting a kiss on her neck - just to tease. Hey, you’re not fooling anyone here.
“So you’re telling me that Yujin’s been trying to find a constellation of love somewhere in the stars instead of an actual person? Okay-” she holds in her laugh, leaning into your touch with another kiss. “Sorry, I- I can’t help myself, she’s a handful with this.”
“Food’s ready, by the way,” you tell her. “I can talk about my side of things in the meantime.”
–
Gaeul, effortless as she is, listens attentively.
Her elbows are on the table top, most of the sandwich eaten as she keeps her eyes fixated on you. She watches while you’re giving her the basic rundown of what’s going on with your work life to the best of your ability - stops you midway, points to a spot under the corner of your lip, prompting you to check it yourself, which you do. By some klutzy move, you miss it - probably on purpose, enabling her into telling you to lean closer for her to wipe it herself, and with a downward tilt of your face, she hides away for a moment. It’s that implication of playfulness that gives way to curiosity, that sense of restlessness where sex was always going to be the eventual inevitability. She wipes whatever was on your chin with her thumb, and keeps it there. Next thing you know, her lips are on yours.
You’re fighting the press of her lips, leaning forward. Her hands suddenly palm your chest, pushing you back into the chair; the conquest picks up when she straddles herself on top of your hips, grazing her lips and nose across your face. The rush itself dies down for a bit - taking the sweet time of tasting each other’s lips and sucking the air out of one another.
For someone like her to kiss you so eagerly. You’d let her do just that.
Her jacket gets taken off smoothly, and her bottoms are pulled a bit to where you can see a hint of her underwear, holding her by the hips.
The fucking lace, alright. She looks unreal the way it hugs her figure.
At this point you’re just hypnotized by her hands and lips, undoing some of the buttons on your shirt, sliding her way down until the trail of kisses reaches the lower regions. Your pants and boxers pool at your ankles, kicking them off. She kisses the inside of your thighs, lets her breath coat your balls before a lick of the underside shifts your hips forward to the edge of the chair. Her pretty little mouth reaches your tip, delicately kissing it; she knows what the fuck she’s doing.
“You’ve been fantasizing about this for a little, haven’t you?” Gaeul teases, pleased. She grins when she wraps her fingers at the base, sighs when you hiss some of the air out your lungs. Her breasts are fighting the bra containing them. She then opens her mouth a bit, drops her head, sinks - fuck. The seal alone is just the right amount of pressure. “How much am I willing to bet you yanked one out after our first date?”
Your midsection tenses, balling your fists because there’s nothing else you would rather do than push your hips upward and fill her throat; not to shut her up, but give her an idea of what she’s in for if she doesn’t play nice.
You know that she won’t.
“Well- you’re right. I did exactly that. How did you-” you blow air out instantaneously when she moves down halfway to your shaft, her eyes rolling back as she’s forcibly choking down your cock. Some of the spit leaks out of her mouth, coating the skin, soaking her bottom lip. Some of it lands on her chest.
“-ust my kind of guess. Now how much are you willing to bet you’ll ruin me with this cock of yours?” she asks once more, giving you no time to answer when she’s putting her head between your legs, suffocating herself before popping her lips off the tip, slapping your shaft across her cheek. “Shouldn’t take you that long, huh?”
The way she’s smiling while talking you through this filth, it’s gonna break you. You need her. You need her mouth right back on your fucking cock before she entertains the idea of blue balling you to oblivion. “I’m slightly worried that you won’t be able to handle this. Maybe I should just hop on your cock and let you have your fun while you fill me up-”
“So f-fucking bad, you are,” you grit, stuttering.
Consider this as karma coming full circle: Gaeul breaking you just by her being on her knees, lapping away your cock while you had your fun eating her out in the back of the bus back to her place less than forty-eight hours ago, holding her close while you made a mess of her underwear with your fingers. She was trying so hard to be quiet, covering her mouth while you were fucking her open.
“Aw, that’s unfortunate,” she tells you, dropping her mouth again, hand cupping beneath your balls, working her way down your shaft even more.
Her bobs are meticulous and calculated. The levels of stimulation are over the scale you drew up in your head, and when she gets her other hand in the fun - twisting the base while the one at your balls are being squeezed, you draw your head back against the chair.
It’s all in the slow buildup: the soft pumps, the occasional spit slathered as the sound of skin on skin becomes even more obscene. Her fingers coil your base when she takes you in that enveloping heat, humming down your cock until you feel the gentle graze of her teeth on the topside, eyes open and going cross-eyed. You’re struggling to come to terms that this girl was the same girl that was dressed up so nicely and princess-like in the art museum asking you and wondering what was the meaning of all these pieces.
But then you’re reminded, that all of it is just the surface level of certain things - once you get to know someone, you learn as you go along with them. Gaeul just blinks through every move of her head at your hips, coating your cock endlessly and teasing to the point where she wants to see that side of you that you’re capable of showing her - to make you bust over and over again until you filled up her cunt where she’s begging for more, watch as she gets herself off if you’re away from her for too long, break her like it’s meant to be a daily routine from here on out - which will happen, Gaeul’s good enough to get you there sooner than you think, her pretty little lips, her dainty hands, that fucking tongue - you’ll get back at her for breaking you.
“Sweetie, okay.” You gasp when she bottoms out your cock, groaning aloud that she’s smiling into the length. She keeps working with her hands and mouth, takes a moment to breathe, fingers sliding nice and easy along the slick skin. Staring at you. “Gaeul, please-”
She’s close to getting you there; begging, and you manage to get a hand to her cheek, hold her face while she sinks her lips back on your cock again. Fuck. You might be too far gone already. Her teeth press down on the skin of your dick and you let out a noise showing another sign of just how good she’s making you lose it. Some of your fingers card her hair, like you’re clawing for a grip on the side of a rock and you swear that your cockhead swells at the top of her throat - you’re left speechless. You’re pretty sure that you can see stars.
Gaeul smacks your tip across her lips, smiles as she does so. “You love my mouth, don’t you? I bet you’re just dying to cum all over my fingers and make me apologize for not letting you have your fun. Sucks to be you.”
“Fucking-” you spit. She swipes her tongue on her lower lip, kisses your shaft the second after. Her index and thumb tighten around your base. “Gaeul, I swear-”
“What? Had enough already?”
Forget what you assumed about Gaeul. This version of her at your feet blows the performance right out of the water.
All that boldness; that wit and snark while playing it cool, she swept it all under the rug from you. Anything she does or says to you, she knows that you’ll twist yourself into giving in to what she wants. Bratty might be one way to conclude - the way she hides her pert smile when you can easily tell that it’s a teasing grin. She looks at your shaft so earnestly as she jerks it around her hand, testing the girth and thickness of it when she finally decides enough is enough and tells you to plug that sorry little hole up that is her throat. The choice to paint your mess over her face or drain it down her mouth is up to you; you’ll ruin her just to satisfy your selfish ego.
“I could just let you, ya know,” she leans more into your palm while her tongue laves across the skin of your balls, breath hot and heavy in the same way her eyelashes bat at you so innocently. “Let you fuck my face and fill my mouth up with this cock. You’ve been good enough for me, I think I just might.”
She leans back and unclips her bra, revealing her tits; nice and perky, her rosy pink nipples too - you’ll mark her up when you get the chance. Her hands go to her hair, tying it like some party trick that only takes a few seconds, leans down to your stomach and kisses it, licking downwards just enough to make you snap.
Your hand’s fast to grab the ponytail on the back of Gaeul’s head.
“Thought you said you’d let me take over,” you tell her. And then: “there we go, look at that. So pretty when your mouth is full of my cock,” you hiss, guiding her down along your shaft, dragging your hips down and up into the addicting clench of her throat. You pull yourself out and smack your tip across her face, smearing the spit and precum. She wants the mess: “Gonna take my cock so well, aren’t you.”
When she sinks again, you lose focus for a moment.
“Mmphgh,” she hums, gripping your wrist. “Mmmuugh.”
“Not so tough now if you can’t talk.” You almost feel bad. It’s unfair how she can still look up at you and smile at the corner of her lips, keeping her gaze leveled as you sink her mouth on your shaft - you thrusting upwards to meet in the middle. She’s handling it like a champ, and it takes a bit for someone to take you whole.
A drag up, down, then up. She’s halfway on your shaft, rises, goes deeper - you could see her upper lip clamp down at the base, cheeks puffing up to dispel the air. Her head shakes a bit, struggling; sucking her cheeks soon after - god. The blush is a lot more apparent now, her eyes filled with lust. You give her a little bit of breathing room while you crash her face back down on your shaft.
“Fuck yes,” you groan, feeling her velvety mouth, taking all of you. She inhales sharply when you slip out of her - only for her to take you back in as you pick up with the thrusts with every shove of her head back down.
You are trying, so hard, to not fuck anything up - fucking her face - you’re pretty sure you feel a little lightheaded. Her gaze is hazy, gasping every few seconds or so through the gags before you up the intensity once more. How is she even prettier like this? She has no right. Not when the noises and current actions are this debauched.
“Mmnph?” She hums, the vibration tremoring on the skin. The clamp of her lips at the base again doesn’t help, but when she slides her tongue along the underside-
“Jesus, Gaeul-”
Fuck. She inhales your cock to the hilt and swipes her tongue across the same spot where her lip can’t reach. Rough.
“Mmph hmm.”
“Relax your jaw, baby,” and she does so, holding you where the clench is the hottest. She squints her eyes as you move her head side to side, the gagging more punctuated through the wet sounds. Ah fuck-
She makes it so, so easy for you. You’ve got just enough to hold yourself back, tugging at her ponytail while she adjusts her mouth over your length - mindlessly bobbing that makes you forget for a second and get lost in the overwhelming wave of pleasure coursing through your body. You’d do anything for her, she’d do anything for you: even if making her a slut was part of the process.
If we’re being honest here, she wouldn’t have gone this far for you to fuck her mouth - like, a well-practiced and simple blowjob from her could’ve been enough for you to lose it - but if she prefers things this way, how her wide eyes keep looking at you with your hand in her hair, she’ll keep it up until you eventually dump your cum all over her tongue.
You just have to, soon, and you will. Gaeul guides her other hand to yours, giving you free reign - sending her mouth to you. She does it with such grace, so beautifully, the arousal catches you by surprise.
Her hands slide to your sides, gripping. Goddamnit, it’s clustered all over her face: the rosy cheeks, the swollen mouth, the sound of her mewling and gagging once you’re upping the pace of your thrusts, spit spread all over her face and chest that makes her skin shine, her hair around the tie becoming more and more messier.
She will make you insane.
“Mhm mhm,” she sputters out because it takes her a while for her to coherently say it, probably since her cheeks are so full of cock you pull yourself out to the point there are webs of spit plastered over your shaft and on her lips.
You’re trying to hold it together. Gaeul, not so much - breathing staggered before she nudges her lips along your cockhead again, opens wide, and slides her way back down, the hypnotizing movement of drool with every deepthroat stroke she does on you.
“Gaeul,” you call out, breathlessly. Her gags just keep on coming, and your hands find themselves in a familiar place yet again.
She forces your hand down, comes back up for air. You’re left speechless, stunned. She’s kissing up your cock - desperately in adoration, practically begging without being verbal about it.
“I want it,” she whispers - drops her jaw again, and guides your hand with her head back down on your length. The friction alone hangs your mind in suspense.
“Fuck my mouth,” she commands; her voice soothing. You don’t think twice when you sink her head back down on your cock, the warmth and plushness of it unfathomable to register in your fucked-out brain. When she comes back up, gasping for air: “Please, sir. Just like that.”
So you grip her hair again. “Shit.” You pull at the root of her knot, let her graze her teeth along the slick surface of your cock. “Christ- Gaeul,” Her eyes red, mascara smeared, cheeks hollowed out once more as her throat rucks up the head of your shaft, taking you- all of you.
Easing yourself into fucking her face wasn’t the way to go; it would be like shying away, saving yourself the embarrassment. Your ears close in on the sounds: the choking, the new layer of spit coated across your throbbing shaft. She’s so good with her lips - in the most fucked up way possible, the sloppier she is, the more happy she’ll be when you release your cum in her mouth or on her face.
Whichever one happens first, that is, you’ll find out soon enough.
“Gaeul-” you’re saying her name, sighing it out in reverence. “Close, baby. I’m so close-”
It’s when she curls her bottom lip, the technique of her tongue sweeping that sensitive spot at the underside - it makes your vision focus at a fine point, she doesn’t let up with the gulps and gags, the delicious clench that makes you swallow nothing. Fuck, you feel it. She knows. With every passing drive of your hips, there’s enough wiggle room for her to breathe again.
She’ll kill you if you let her do this more often.
–
“Uhm,” you’re calling out to her again, noticing something out of place. “I don’t remember you asking for that.”
Gaeul turns around, stretches the shirt on her like some bathrobe. It’s funny: the hem at the waistline covers the middle of her thighs, but somehow you can’t help but admit she looks cute in your clothes - even when she’s wiping away the cum and saliva with the collar and there’s no point in complaining.
“Sorry, I thought you’d be okay with me having a small memento of you,” she says, pulling the fabric behind, molding it to her figure. There’s a playful hum she’s singing, wandering around your place like it’s her gallery, eyeing the trinkets and things that make you well- you.
“Would you be cool if-” she adds, turning around in some coquettish ingénue pose, showing a bit of her panties that’s being engulfed by her ass. “-I made you cum a third time?”
You give her a chuckle since that’s in the ballpark of recurring jokes or cute memories, somewhere along the lines of flirting like an idiot and fucking like rabbits. It’s getting there, the insight at least.
Sure, have her keep the shirt. It looks good on her. She brought a change of clothes for the night anyway; God knows as to why but you’ll do whatever it takes to keep her around.
“I’ll take that as a yes with how you’re staring at me still.” She muses a scrunch of her nose that simmers the cutesy, heart-fluttering, babyism sort of act that would make anyone, in particular, flash a look of confusion topped off with a subtle eye roll.
She grabs your toothbrush and runs it through the faucet. You don’t say anything about that.
The balls of her feet lift her heels, but she’s not slick with the small arch of her back and leans in towards the mirror. She’s careless, and that’s apparent with how the collarbone sticks out on the right side where the shirt pools. You give her a light laugh when you’re hugging her side, nestle your nose at her temple, patting her head.
“Do -ou minth?” Gaeul sighs, smiling. “-m tryimph to cean mythelf ere.” The toothbrush hangs at the side of her mouth, minding her own business as you’re pulling a few wisps of her hair past her ear. “Should’ve closed the door on you when I had the chance. Didn’t expect you to be so clingy. You expect me to believe that you can be soft and bubbly when you just shoved your cock down my throat?”
“Too much?” you ask. “I can dumb it down if you want.”
She gives you a genuine shake of her head. No. “I don’t mind at all.” She spits out the paste into the sink for a new one, since she’s drooling it out. “It’s cute that you’re like this when it should be the opposite.”
“Mmm. Bite me if you have a problem with it.”
Gaeul then sighs when you bury your nose in her hair, rub the side of her waist, because it feels right. Her eyes follow you when you leave her be at the sink, let her spit out some more before brushing.
–
A girl like Gaeul makes it difficult for you to come to grips with her small, yet lithe frame - how your hands rest neatly on the swell of her ass, fingertips cupping the indent. She’s not making this any better, palming your cock through your pants, or that cheeky smirk once her hand slithers past the elastic and wraps around you like it’s a lifeline.
You also realize: how light she is, feeling her tits and having a moment of small joy when you manage to get a mouthful of her breast, mouth parting while you’re sucking on her mounds and nipples shamelessly to the point where she has to tug you by the hair to make you stop, grasp at that last bit of control.
Marking up her chest serves as a viable response to her.
“Careful now,” she tells you, mewling, head tipped forward - the stimulation quite a lot for her to handle. “A little aggressive, are we? Ah-”
Like you’re the kind of person to take it easy, anyway. She says your name so prettily; the sensuality over a simple utterance, the breathlessness lying beneath the tone. You’ll fuck and treat her like she’s the only girl in the world and prove it in more ways than one. You’re on the eve of something big here: finding where her limbs and muscles tense, mark up her perfect skin and knock her up like she wants the filthy mess. There’s an unspoken safe word - a prompt or phrase of some kind. If or when she says: “I’m yours,” she tells you, eyes fluttering when you slip your two fingers in, guiding them to the tempo that she wants you to go.
So she grinds on your fingers and cock whilst making out with you on your bed, eventually fucking her soon after, sheets and pillows tossed and used in the process; you slip some rubber on your cock and cum first before she does, and she’s a bit angry, pouty, coiling her arms and legs around your neck and shoulders until you give her what she wants - the time reads a little past midnight, she’s sprawled on the bed like some happy, sleepy puppy and sighs: “I’m starting to think you can’t handle me. My pussy’s just too good for you to have another round,” laughing as her knee rises and slides her heels along the mattress.
“Maybe two or three will shut you up, I don’t know.”
“We’ll see about that,” Gaeul says flatly in lieu of your subtle shrug, “I’m gonna break your cock, just watch me,” and well, you find and realize, she was serious about that; she fucks herself on your hips, determined - and hops off your waist, your front flush with her back, bringing a pillow for her to cling onto. “Something tells me that you’ve been- deprived, I would say. This bed is a little too spacious for us.”
You laugh with a yawn mixed in. “Yeah, sure.” Gaeul takes the tie you pulled out from her hair and tosses it to the nightstand. “If you want to put it that way, I won’t complain.”
She scoffs. “Wow. I point out one thing and you’re not even gonna argue against it,” you can picture the quirk of her mouth, a hint of her teeth peeking through into a grin. “For a guy like you to have some experience, that’s not what I expected-”
“Do you want the polite answer or the truth?” you ask her, leaning more into the cushion while Gaeul tangles a leg between yours. The world around you seems to fade out from your ears, solely making you focus on the present moment, looking at her with a wistful gaze, one filled with contentment and wonder.
Deprived no more, you’re mentally telling yourself.
It’s not long after before Gaeul pats your cheek, kisses your jaw before you hear her feet scuff across the floor to your bathroom with nothing on, watching as she checks herself in the mirror, leans into the doorframe, arm raised and stretched up high, locks of her hair spilling from her collarbones and down to her chest, that head tilt to top the silhouette off nicely you’re left in a trance.
You figure out that this moment, right now, all of the stars aligned at the right time and firmly believe that it’ll stay.
–
Sometime later, you tell Gaeul that you were holding out for someone like her; someone that took an effort to get because they were simply out of your league - she laughs, half-impressed.
“Y’know, for you to be figuratively at the altar but still searching,” she murmurs, tapping your chin. “people like you and I can only get so far in life.”
“People like me and you,” you repeat, the movement between you two isn’t much, but still cautious.
Gaeul drops her eyelids and smiles, a dimple appearing.
“People. Interesting, enticing,” she breathes. “Enigmatic and those with charisma.” A chuckle hums low in her chest when she looks up with those wistful, doe eyes, “that’s where your type falls, doesn’t it?”
On the nail, she is - damn she’s good.
“And where would I be, had I not talked to you that day,” you ask, grinning like an idiot. The space alone is still difficult to interpret, placing your lips on hers and scratch her head while the waves of her coffee-brown locks sift between your fingers. You could feel yourself sinking - sucked into a black hole with no way out, swallowing you up whole.
“I wonder too,” she echoes your thought.
You kiss her forehead, give attention to that cute little beauty mark on her cheek. Watch as her gaze softens: a look of love, almost.
“I’m bad news for you, sadly,” she adds. “Keep me in your life, you’re bound to regret it.”
–
She wants you so bad, you can’t help but fuck her for the next couple of days.
Your schedule slowly shifts to Gaeul’s. When the night falls - because there are multiple instances at two in the morning talking about complete nonsense over mac and cheese bowls and slow kissing in the shower with the water falling on both of you that makes her skin a hot blush pink, pressing her into the tile or sink after with your hand or towel in her mouth to keep her quiet - since you learn she likes it that way, letting you feel up the slick curves of her ass and watch the skin ripple to where you see some of the recoil of her tits in the mirror, or even on your office chair facing away from the desktop, Gaeul biting your ear with her knees up to her pits-
“You like fucking my pussy open with my legs up like this? Hmm?” Gaeul hisses in your ear, voice rasped and torn, sliding her legs back down, tugging hair while you’re filling every inch of her cunt. “Just letting you use me wherever, whenever, however you want-”
Alright. It’s hard to imagine what you were getting yourself into when Yujin threw a bone to pick at you playing matchmaker - leaving the door open for Gaeul, the girl who waltzed into your life unknowingly, only for her to be the kind of girl that crumbles from your cock being inside her, pumping so full where she’s pulling you into that leaking white slit for another round - but there’s times in the late morning, treating herself another cup of tea, body riddled with hickeys drawn up and discovered by you like a stargazer, her small waist a gift from the heavens above, in your sweatpants where the ends pool over to her toes, leaning down to take your attention away from the screen, grabbing a handful of her tit in place of a hello.
“What’s that you got there?” Gaeul giggles, hand stacked on yours while you squeeze gently. “That doesn’t look related to the project.”
She’s half-right. It’s somewhat relevant to the submissions Yujin’s been sending over for you to look at, and the data’s been stagnant; luckily, you’re glad that someone else’s been keeping you accountable for the time being.
“Well, that's because it isn’t.” you laugh, swiveling your chair a bit so that she can sit on your lap. “This is what the galaxy looked like on your birthday. Gotta say, that does look pretty.”
Gaeul coos, leaning her head on top of yours. She moves your hand up to her chest, slips her arm out of the sleeve, rucks the shirt on her shoulder. The mix of pale skin and pink bruises, you’re salivating with every lick of your lips - and she leans closer to the screen.
Her eyes widen at the flashes of blue and purple, stares like the picture itself is an art piece, captivated. “Wow, you know what I think?”
“What is it?”
“If you’re gonna help discover a galaxy or image like that,” Gaeul tells you, moving her arm around your neck, lightly scratching your hair, “I’d pull your weight with Yujin on this project if I were you.”
“Really?” you ask her, leaning back so that she can rest her other leg across yours. “I’ve been doing that, but it’s been slow.”
“Maybe you just have to draw up the connection a little better, then.”
–
Your groove gets thrown off. Gaeul disrupts the flow which you have no complaint about. You leave your place far later than you intended, and tell Yujin to let you off the hook. The pictures, readings, sketches - the information is a lot to take already. You’re seeing stars. If she’s the sun then you’d be Icarus: flying closer and closer until you get engulfed completely.
This isn’t simple for you; a little hard to properly explain. The girl just takes and takes and takes.
You show Gaeul the night sky, have her look through your telescope and tell which stars and planets are seen, painting the image and guiding her to fill that imagination - only for her to say something to make you laugh; next thing you know, she’s got her pretty lips wrapped around your cock, shutting you up with no care right there on the balcony. She keeps batting those lashes at you, fucking her face - hollowed cheekbones too, god. She’s swallowing you whole, hands at your sides, gargling. Putting her hair up in that ponytail. Yeah, you won’t last long.
The lapping, licking, spitting. She’s savoring the inescapable deepthroat.
When she licks the upper seam of your balls, you’re pretty sure you saw a new set of stars right then and there.
“We might need to look at those pictures you have,” you’re telling Yujin on the phone. “I think those from the last look-up. No- I mean, yeah. I was also reading on Rei’s side of the project as well, and what she has is way more substantial than what we were initially working with.”
“As much as I hate to admit it, her recent stuff has been looking pretty good compared to ours. I’m just glad we found her to work with us in the first place.” Yujin says, laughing.
“All I’m saying from last time is that if you were this committed to finding someone that can put up with your antics; maybe rough you up and get you all needy and not be as controlling to just live a little, you know? I know that we’re close to finishing this, but I can extend an olive branch for you to reach if you need a guy up your alley.”
“I’ll hold you to that offer,” replies Yujin, “Hopefully you got a guy in mind that can handle me like how Gaeul is with you.”
Right, you tell her. Gaeul’s leaned on the frame leading to the kitchen; not tired, sighing when you look over your shoulder to see her hand in her sweats, finger deep up her cunt. The tilt of your head says to keep it down. She bites her lip, continuing what she’s doing. You’ll see why, and be glad that you didn’t jump at the opportunity yet. You look away for a second to notice her sitting right next to you, brushing up your right side, forcing you to switch the phone to the other hand. Watch it. You’re certain that she could hop on your cock right now, and ride you without a care in the world, because why the fuck not? She’s not wearing panties underneath as it is; asking, whining, begging to be bred.
Shit.
You really could.
If you wanted to.
Like fucking her on the balcony for the world to see would just be another law in your twisted philosophy, breaking a slut like her, leaving the mess of cum all over her body, have her lick it off so sweetly. In a sky full of stars, you’d want to paint that picture somewhere up there too.
You’re certain that there’s a solace here - one that’s permanently eclipsed with euphoria, certain that it will stay.
Gaeul’s breathing funnels into your ear as you bite down a smile, grab a handful of her ass and claw greedily at the indent. You could feel her head nod against yours. She’s so fucking needy.
“I’ll send over the revisions I made,” she pulls back on your lap to see you say. Yujin beams on the other end of the line. “Touch base with Rei also to see if it matches up.”
Gaeul moves your arm away, pushes your head back with a lip lock. Her hips drop to your growing bulge below. You end the call right away to ensure Yujin doesn’t get caught up in the middle of it, watch as she rips your shirt off from her body.
–
You hate to admit that you’ve got this dark-twisted fantasy, unwilling to frame that mindset because there was no reason to. She’s so mild-mannered and soft-spoken; wears pretty outfits and dresses waiting for you in the lobby of your building. She’s one messy bun with a hairclip on top away from urging you to snatch her away, Christ almighty. You’ll take away the layers and make mental notes, conceal her away like she’s some comet - write her name into the books that way the whole world knows about her perfection. A girl like her can change what a man thinks, make them say things like I know what you want, don’t give me that look - just for her to stare with that lovestruck look in your eyes.
If she wasn’t the kind of girl that fell from the sky and onto your lap, syrupy laugh and giggle with those dreamy eyes, you would have a hard time looking through a scope; she’s rattling your brain to the point where you could say one or two things, have her listen dutifully because you know she will.
Every exploration is a journey into the unknown, and suddenly she could pop a question at any random point in time, like: hey, you don’t need science to make a woman feel good, okay? You can totally fuck me like you mean it.
But here she’s babbling, heaving. Completely stuffed up on her back with her knees to her chest, brain nothing but mish mash and riding out the pleasure. “Aren’t you a sweet thing,” you groan, “creaming all over my cock-”
She’s biting down a piece of her shirt, lifted just above her tits, eyes squinched. Her head tilts back, chest up in the air. You’re pressing on the underside of her thighs, pushing her deep into the mattress. The words coming out of her mouth are incoherent, but you’re fucking it out of her: god, oh god, yes, shit, baby, fuck, fuck me-
“Christ,” you hiss, and move your hands from her thighs to her back, bending the arch more. You’ve done yourself a favor by not railing her on the dining table like last time, gripping her ass, the addicting clench and glide of her folds, begging you to pound and pound and pound until she’s lost the feeling in her legs.
Everything leading up to this was relatively tame; nothing too serious other than fifteen or twenty minutes of the usual fill-ins of what was done throughout the day, only for Gaeul to flash a look at you and with a grab of her wrist, the rest of the clothes peel away not long after.
Probably in this universe, there’s nothing left to decipher in the sounds and expressions displayed on Gaeul’s face, small streams of tears falling on her cheeks with every part from the face down riddled in a rosy blush and sweat. You slide your palms up to her chest, rest your thumbs on the underside of her breasts, steadying, plugging your cock up in her tiny cunt and dragging every inch of skin across her walls, clamping hard and soaking no matter how fast and hard you’re giving it to her. Her body’s used to your length, thoroughly fucked that she can’t do anything but feel ruined.
You see her mouth form an oh shape, some of her hair gets caught on her cheek, glancing you from the corner of her eye before rolling it back to her head-
“Shhh,” you say, brushing your nose to the side. “Almost there, baby. I’ve got you-”
Gaeul’s brows furrow together; grinding her teeth, forcing the dragged-out groan down her throat, tears peeking through the seal of her eyelids. She knows that she can’t do anything - besides just taking it like a nice little girl, let this cock pound and wreck her and look gorgeous as you bottom her out.
“C’mon baby,” you’re huffing, getting one good thrust in while the flesh ripples at your hips, and Gaeul grits out a holy shit but dies down instantaneously, soft, the wail wheezed out in a whisper. Her whole body shakes with another peak, her face flushed with red, saying nothing seconds later. The wetness leaks out of her, coating your cock while holding you true. There’s no objection, only order when you drive your dick back in her cunt. Small threads of her slick forming on your waist, drawing their own set of constellations on her body.
Her body rebounds upwards on the inhale.
“Cum,” she tells you, pleading. You could feel her fingers coil your forearm.
“Condom,” you stutter and fuck. She’s so unhinged - even if it’s just a singular word or simple request. Wringing her out this way was always going to be the result. “Fuck, can’t-”
Her breath hitches, a cute noise you think. Some of her hair falls on her forehead, eyes lidded. The corner of her mouth ticks up.
“What?”
“If you seriously think that I’m gonna cum inside-”
Gaeul chuckles, twisted into a moan. You can see the gears in her head turning, trying not to get caught up with your cock embedded in her hot cunt still.
“Not- that.”
“Not?”
Her head falls to the mattress.
“All over me.” Her shoulders slack, hands sliding further up your arm. You let her legs bracket your hips as you grasp at her tit. She doubles down on the command to be sure you heard it the first time. “I wanna feel it.”
You don’t say anything more when she props herself up on her elbows, watching the sight of your cock slide slowly in and out of her cunt. Slipping the condom off in one swift pull and lick your palm. Gaeul bites on her thumb, smiling at you barely keeping it together.
“Here is fine.” The way she suggests is dripping in want. Her heaving chest, kiss-bitten lips, tousled hair and sweat and everything in between. “Or maybe,” you see her glossy eyes once more, filled with lust. “Paint my face and get your nice, thick cum all over my fucking lips-”
You inhale sharply.
“Watch it,” you hiss.
“Maybe I won’t,” Gaeul replies, lip between her teeth, challenging. Her hand reaches to your length to keep you second-guessing. The sight of her body; a literal depiction of sin, right in the palms of your hands.
She grinds your cockhead along her folds, closing her legs slightly. The pressure already sucking you back in. “Sweetie, where- I could just let you lick it off again, grab a towel from the bathroom, that-”
“You know what I want.”
You look at her, unsure. But you know what’s about to happen anyway.
As if she couldn’t give it to you in a different language, she grabs your wrist gently. It’s an easy problem with an easy solution. You can’t argue how pleasant she really is. She doesn’t have to prove more into it, how she’ll be, you could give into that sense of luxury, and you really could.
So you’re pondering, skeptical. “I told you. You’re insane if you genuinely want me to cum in you. We’re not doing this. No.”
Gaeul pouts, combined with an eyebrow lift.
“And I wasn’t kidding when I said that.” She mentioned it the first time, too: “I’d let you cum anywhere you want.”
A few more passing blinks go by.
“Why go through all that just to waste your hard work on-” And you’re left surprised that she’s got the strength left to pull herself back up, resting her hips right on top of yours, fingers carding through your hair when she slips you back inside. Inch by inch, you feel her sinking down - slowly. You know that she isn’t stopping in particular, wiggling her ass; a soft implication, teasing. She’s pulling you closer and closer to where you’re seeing eye to eye with her. “Safeguarding a pretty girl like me.”
In all honesty: it’s in your nature. Gaeul’s simply just being herself. Tender. Beautiful. Fully embracing. You could give her the power to destroy you, and she’d thank you for it.
She gives you a very hard time thinking, grinding her hips against yours - let yourself get drunk in the raptures since the rubber was starting to become a pain in the ass recently. Gaeul’s cunt siphons out all your thoughts with every single inch of her gripping cunt, speaking listless phrases of praise and wishes that you’re positive to make come true for her. She could ride and pound her pretty pussy all over your cock - orgasm after orgasm after orgasm - until her face is blown out and just flat-out gone. Ease her mind with your dick, since she seems to love it so much.
To be spoiled, showered and railed in whatever way possible. She just keeps hopping along your cock, bottoming herself out to the point where she’s looking to the ceiling in pure stimulation.
You ruck your hips forward. Gaeul trembles, sighing in relief, allowing you the reins, lifting her body up and back down on your thighs. Her neck tips down, mouth canted.
She’s warm and tight - just perfect; so sensitive and responsive after bouncing her cunt on your cock over and over and over-
You steady yourself, savoring the feeling.
She wants you to fill her up, to the point where she has to tell you that it’s enough.
You suck in a breath, slip out a groan, shuddering. “Oh my god-”
“Good, right?” Gaeul smiles, “Shit-” and you feel her head collapse onto yours, relaxing and riding out the length until her hips mesh with yours. She practically melts on your cock, stretching and tightening all at once, inviting.
A kiss to her chest is what you give her, trying to keep your mind off her pussy carelessly clinging every inch of your girth; making it simpler for you to nudge your cockhead into the spot that makes her clench and shake; mewling and humming mixed with the moans; soaking your hips till it stains the sheets.
“Such a slut,” you tell her, maintaining the last bits of coherence you have left, “so careless and needy. I should stop before you do some real damage.”
Gaeul smirks, looks so admonished you can’t help but stare. “I don’t like that tone of yours.”
“What tone?”
She curls a smile before cradling your head.
“Talking me down, doesn’t sit right with me.”
“You told me that you didn’t mind.” You lift her hips from the crease, lean forward to swirl your tongue around her nipple. Looking up to see her watch, give a shameless lick on her bud to lay the challenge, pull back with a pop of the lips. “I know you were being polite about it. Call me a good listener.”
“I might’ve said something different.”
“Like you beg to differ.”
“Hush.”
“Pussy so good for you that you’re at a loss of words? Set your mind right after getting lazy over work?” The arch in her back deepens, gyrating her hips at the hilt to further the connection - your thumbs dig in the crease of her legs. You drag her forward. She moans again. “Shame on you, I should say no the next time-”
“But you won’t.”
“No. No. I won’t.” Gaeul huffs into your cheek, sighs once more when you’re kissing her throat.
You’re fucking her brains into a puddle and somehow you’re still wondering how she can still think straight - ignoring the fact that her body’s split open and folding through on slap of your hips onto the next-
“I won’t. Not ever.” She mumbles, whimpering. “I- can’t get enough of this dick. I can never get enough of your dick.”
“Really?” You’re asking acerbically.
She shakes her head, and you give her a nice hot kiss, priming her head at an angle where you both prefer it to be: and she slips her tongue between your lips, groaning and melting on top of your body, pressing her knees to the sides of your thighs and her cunt in this sliding friction across your cock. She’s terrible at keeping secrets, a truth even - trying to convince you otherwise that she doesn’t like when you’re working her so well her face flushes, aching while leaking her endless slick onto your skin. Your mouth, hands, and cock all give her these waves of bliss, hitting the points all at once where her body blooms and she doesn’t know what to do next.
You slam her ass back on your balls that her hips spazz out, grinding another climax out of her while she screams; a live wire is what she is, purring and gasping once you’ve triggered that reaction.
“Like that,” she tells you, at this point, her arrogance is fucked out. Then, her lip is between her teeth, puffing out, bites her teeth together: “that’s so fucking good.”
“Yeah?” and you feel her fingers slither back into your hair, assisting in the lift of her lower half back down - she’s spiraling. “So good for me, love, baby. Oh, baby-”
She rattles her head when you’re sliding your hips further forward, the press of Gaeul’s knees moving up to the sides of your stomach. “Nuh uh,” she hisses; the angle is too good for her, impaling her from below she can’t breathe at the top, cunt nicely forming around your cock so deep-”
“Not the love bullshit, no.” Gaeul chuckles, giddy, mouth canvasing your shoulder. Sighing, whispering, swallowing her hums.
You raise and yank her back down. The whine is one part of the whole symphony.
“Like- love. What the fuck - so soft. God-”
“Look who’s talking,” you growl. A curse spills from your lips. She’s a fucking waterfall that it’s unbelievable. The tightness alone for the first time would make anybody an instant addict. And you’re bent on the fact that cumming inside Gaeul is your inevitable demise - her walls clamping in increments around your shaft that every slap of skin and swallow of your throat brings you closer. “I’m giving you what you want, no? All you have to do is just take it - like a nice, little, whore-”
She wheezes, giggling where it gets caught between a coo and a hum of approval.
“-my little cocksleeve, good god-” you hear yourself say, and the bump of Gaeul’s head into yours can hide so much of her flushed cheeks. “So beautiful, ruined for me, my little nymph come to life. You love this cock so much, wanting to be full of cum, lapping it up like a cute puppy-”
You’re not sure what you’re saying at this point, but Gaeul keeps on laughing, rolling her hips forward and backward. She lifts herself halfway, falls right back in. Exhales. You know what’s coming; what’s about to happen. Her legs lock up, jaw slacked - hung in suspense. She’s breathing where you could see on her shoulders, leans forward with a turn in her ear:
“My little sex kitten, how bout that?”
Skeptical, Gaeul sighs; sucking in her stomach while her head turns the other direction, showing some of that fading self-control and common sense.
“Okay, that’s. Oh-” she tries telling you, shying away. Her hand goes to yours, continuing the motion, sloppily, letting out a lazy grin and bouncing your name off your lips as her body leans back and into your control. “Rushed, I think. Maybe. Not sure- need more- to get used-”
“Gaeul.” There's no hiding it anymore, you’re too dumbfucked out of your own mind to turn back now. She seethes out another cry, making you tilt your lips to a devilish smile. “Poor thing, so dirty. A naughty little squirrel that can’t get enough of my nut, huh? Look at you, so wet and filthy, making a mess all over the place-”
Yeah, she broke you. You’ve gotten so twisted because of her - no point in mincing words here.
“Fuck, okay, please, that’s too much-”
You can’t stop - you just can’t. Her cunt is so close to squeezing you, numbing your mind until she drains you completely.
The pace is painstakingly slow, the rise and fall of her hips with every pump inside her, nails clawing your skin away at the bridge of your shoulders. It becomes- too much, the way your cock stuffs her tiny pussy until that edge is finally reached, the heat cranked up way past eleven, the desire to take it written all over her face and body.
“Want it,” she chokes out. Her cunt creates this pocket of air inside where the noise is just utterly wrong. “Please.”
Her eyes water, fluttering.
“I hear you, darling. I know.”
“Ah, yes. You-”
Her head lolls forward, lazily. You wrap your arms around her waist and guide her back onto the sheets, slip yourself out and roll her over until her ass is in view. She peers over her shoulder, watching you mount her thighs, pull her hips up and slide a pillow into the open space created, laying back down and bury your cock back in her creaming cunt, kneading the handful of ass in your palm before testing the depth again.
You notice her shoulders bunch up to her neck, hands gripping the sheets when you’re leaning back down to her face.
“Fight me,” you whisper down her ear, “if it’s too much.” Gaeul shakes her head at the drag of your shaft, driving back in with a firm thrust that makes her gasp for air - bites down a moan into the blankets beneath her. You’re pinning her into the bed frame so harshly you don’t even care if you break it.
Her hand shoots back to your arm, grabbing. The slaps of skin pick up in rhythm, maintaining a tempo. You reach out for her hair and lift her head, releasing a few moans before her breaths also start to become more staccatoed-
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, I can’t- hhn-”
You’re having too much fun for your sake. Though, you can’t blame yourself in this situation. This was what Gaeul wanted, and she got it. A second later you’re pressing her head back down into the bedding, bend that arch in her lower back a bit deeper where your cock can carve its way down to the hottest point where she can take it. Her mewling and crying rise in volume and you only have the slap of your hips to hers serving as this undertone to her song.
“Where,” you sputter, because you know the limit’s about to be reached. “Where do you want me-”
Gaeul turns her head back; you can’t even see her lips move when she says it: “Inside.”
So you coil your arms around her waist and flush your chest to her back. “If that’s what my kitty wants.”
You raise the pace then and there. Fucking her tight little cunt as if you finally created the theory in your head into breaking Gaeul. It doesn’t take much for someone smart to put the pieces together: all you need is a nice hold of her ass, impaling your cock deep where you can take it, sliding in and out of her walls with such precision that you’ll empty every fiber in your body to satisfy both her and yourself.
You’re experimenting with the position of her body - deep into the mattress, lift her upper half where both deepens the arch of her pussy, nudging your cock where her walls can clinch and clench along the member - working so seamlessly to bring that orgasm to the front. There’s only one thing left to do now: to pound and bounce her ass and cunt all over your cock until you spill all of it inside her open pink hole. You’re gonna drain everything in your balls deep into Gaeul’s cunt until she’s whining from the mixture of tension and shaking, growling so loud that you’ll wake the neighbors on the upper and lower floors.
The pulsing, shooting rope after rope and after rope of cum inside her. She’s moaning in relief at the feeling while you’re still pooling, head spinning so fast that you’re finally on the same page as her: ruined, and thoroughly fucked.
“T’so warm,” she mumbles sleepily. “And thick-“
The slamming of your hips keeps you conscious. “Gaeul, this cunt, baby, so fucking incredible.”
An angel falling from the heavens. Would anyone ever believe it if you told the things you did with her?
When you do slide out of her well-fucked-and-worked-cunt, you can’t help yourself still and slip inside again, coating your cock mixed in with her slick and your cum. You watch when you pull your tip away from her folds, the sheen of white coming out of her slit - the whole image of her backside is a picture-perfect painting right here in your sheets: her puffy pussy lips, the beet red spread across the breadth of her ass, bruises on bruises across the plane of her back, hair in this half and half of a bun and wavy locks. You then run your hand across your length, wipe the mess on the person who created it, and look at her while she rolls on her back with her arms raised.
You’ll also think about treating her; cleaning her up in the shower; dry her hair, swaddle her in a towel, carry her around your place, clean every spot and cranny - worshiping her curves and mounds until she’s willing to be broken apart and put back together again. A girl made to be ruined, an endless experiment you want to keep forever.
“See?” She laughs, running a finger along her folds, collecting her reward, licking it off her fingertips before cupping her palm gently along your cock, slowly rubbing you to get a few more drops out of you. Her tongue runs across her lips, almost like she’s gonna drool again and it’s just fucking terrible, but you love it. “Can’t you think the wonders of you breeding my poor, sorry, cunt-”
Part of you wants to shut her up with your dick. She’s so forward with the intent and doesn't care about the consequences. It’s dangerous. You’re thinking ahead of how she’ll look with the ribbons of cum spread all over her body, on her face, in her hair. Sick and twisted it is, and she cups your sack - gasping at the sudden weight of it still.
Soon. You need a breather and push yourself away.
She flails her arms and legs around like some kid throwing a tantrum, groaning.
But she smiles and shies away; not nervous, but happy. “Fuck me,” she swears where she feels relaxed and unbound by any worry. You bring yourself down to her and try to kiss her cheek, but she turns her head away with her hand pushing your face.
“Nope,” she tells you, softly laughing, “I don’t think you’ve earned it. Should’ve fucked me harder.”
This girl is a problem.
You pinch her cheek and start poking her stomach, the bubbliness coming to life. She can’t stay in one place the more you tap your fingers all over her body. She’s very ticklish.
“Poor kitty,” you remark, because you notice her smile and tucked lip, watch the butterflies flutter in her stomach, and when you’re patting her thigh she doesn’t bother retaliating, since the idea’s set in her mind that there’s no further objection.
“Didn’t you say,” she sighs, voice beaming, face pink and clutching her waist. “You like it when I’m like this, making you stupid that way you’ll just pound me at the end of it? Y’know, pinning me into the mattress. Gotta say, the-”
“Gaeul, please.” She knows that you’re amused, smiling. “Get up. Go shower, you’re dirty.”
“No no,” she replies, shaking her head. You stare into her eyes while her legs spread, causing you to look down and scrunch your nose. Her head tips back, trails her fingers up her chest, traces around the nipple, some of her hair falls in front. “If you’re the one who made the mess, you should make the effort to clean me up again.”
You make a note of the upsetting attitude - maybe forward it to Yujin since she knows a little more about Gaeul out of annoyance.
Yujin didn’t give you the full report, anyway: about how Gaeul’s the kind of girl that functions over good food, drinks, and a proper dicking down without even considering the whirlwind of logistics she’ll mess up. You should’ve seen the signs. You should’ve known who you’re dealing with.
“What’s wrong?” Gaeul asks, grinning, relaxing her back while you pull her by the thighs, bringing her closer. You thumb her knee, considering. The warning signs are there - just waiting for everything to come apart.
She gives you an eye smile while you’re rolling yours, guiding your hand up her inner thigh, stopping right at her pussy lips. It’s draining. A headache. You’ll be sleepless in the morning because you can’t admit Gaeul’s the reason for staying up so late. “Only gonna say it once,” you tell her. “Shower comes first.”
You say, but your body does otherwise, scooching forward where your finger hovers right above her clit. Though you gently press your palm right above her hip, noticing how sweaty she is - or maybe it’s the spread slick from her thighs; you can’t tell, the slide of it has you in disbelief.
“I think you can give me one more,” Gaeul suggests, rolling on her stomach, forming the arch so tantalizing you force yourself to look away, knees spreading and her feet flush - imploring without really saying anything because you know she won’t stop and there’s nothing you can do about it. Her teeth peek through her cunning smirk, fully pleased. “Forget about putting another condom on, ‘cause like- god. I know you love how my pretty little pussy lips wrap around your cock when you’re cumming in me anyway.”
It’s a genesis of sorts: the beginning of an unending madness. A world which you cannot escape - nor want to.
–
Everything is a mess: you, your place, your work with Yujin. Gaeul comes by every other day - except when she’s swamped with schoolwork where she pops the idea of going on a romantic getaway or a staycation, hiding yourself away from the world and fucking her stupid until she’s sleepy.
Here’s the thing.
It’s when you’re with friends- or just you and her, wandering around the city, she’s the calmest, reserved girl you’ve ever seen. Much like she puts on a mask or appearance during the day and nobody seems to notice. Her clothes are much in line with yours, and pulling your face for a kiss - well, to milk the moment, you suppose - curling her fingers across your cheek, eyes so full of her that they’re crossing against each other at the press of her forehead with yours.
There’s something here. You’re certain that it’s already been found. An exploration of these moments and experiences and the gut feeling rest well in your mind. You ponder, maybe it’s meant to be. This was all for fun at some point too. Maybe, also, that might not be the case.
You deem it too early to say you love her, but the reciprocating kisses she gives you make you think otherwise, every single time, and you give into her little smile.
If you or her mean it, one of you will say the words eventually.
–
“So? What are we thinking? You reckon we’ll get it this time?” Yujin says, optimistic. You picture her with her feet propped up on something or in the air, it sounds like it.
“Well, I guess we’ll find out tomorrow.” You answer, “Oh- by the way, Gaeul wanted to come along for the final set of tests. Are you okay with that?”
“Yeah, I don’t mind.”
“Awesome.”
Silence builds up on the line.
“Aren’t you gonna tell me how she is?” Yujin prods, teasingly with a tone higher than usual. “C’monnnnn, I wanna know-”
“Why would I? My business with Gaeul is not information to share.”
“Boooooo.”
“What?”
“You and her haven’t given me credit for setting you guys up,” says Yujin. “Some of the details can be left out - for obvious reasons. She’s been telling me good things about you.”
You smile at that.
“Okay, to be honest, she’s amazing. I haven’t had an issue with her since our date and well- I don’t need to explain more for you to figure the rest out.”
“Tell me more later when I see you two, but from what it sounds like, I think you struck your luck out with this one. She’s a real keeper.”
Seeking out an Andromeda wasn’t on the cards, but you’re happy enough to have it fall right on your lap.
It’s something special to cherish.
–
Gaeul watches from a distance, admiring the image of you in your element.
Yujin looks closely at the screen readings while you’re peering into the telescope, following along to the proper adjustment in getting the coordinates right. There’s a double check - then a triple check - glancing at the image presented. She smiles when you give her a nod of approval, looking back over at Gaeul who stares right back.
Gaeul appears stoic, but you can tell that she was a little bit nervous for you. If things didn’t go well today, it wasn’t going to be the end of the world, but you know deep down that she wants you to succeed - and you do too.
“We have something,” you’re telling her when you reach the bottom of the steps, rubbing her elbow for comfort. “Wanna come take a look?”
She bites her lip, eyes tilting down, and nods.
You kiss her knuckle and bring her up.
Minutes later, she’s where you were: through the looking glass while Yujin slides her chair over pointing at the mix of greenish blue in the middle of the vast blackness of space. “Looks new, seems lightyears away from us. Have we finally got it?”
“Judging from what the professor was telling us, nobody is claiming this one yet.”
Yujin taps your shoulder before leaving to call up her mentor.
Gaeul still looks into the scope, smiling when she feels your arms wrap around her waist, laughing softly.
“It’s beautiful,” she tells you, “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
The night sky shines above the observatory, light funneling through the opening as a natural spotlight, illuminating the glow reflected on her perfect skin. You look at her as if you’d turn into stone when you look away. She looks at you like everything just makes sense - a safe place where she can find comfort in, realizing what she said was already made true, but she doesn’t know that.
“You speak for yourself? Or?”
She hits your arm, and you’re smiling like an idiot.
“Do you have a name for it?” Gaeul asks, turning around so that she’s properly facing you. You’re still trying to figure out how she can look so pretty - so effortlessly; it’s something that you’ll dedicate a whole lot of time to study, see if you can find the answer in her eyes, or her body-
“Not yet,” you answer. “It'll take some time to pick, but- I’m open to recommendations.”
She nods, quickly flashing her eyes to see if there was anyone within earshot, pensive. “I got nothing so far, but I’m willing to jog your mind if you’re it.”
“Gaeul,” you say, sternly, grip tightening on her lower back. “What’re you implying, hm?”
“All I’m saying is that I can be a great help for you in that bathroom downstairs. Unless you want to step outside, get some fresh air - the breeze is so nice up here, and no one will hear me because of the crickets-”
“Minx,” you’re saying again. She sighs with her mouth parted, working herself right off the bat. “Now’s not the time, you were good for me earlier. Plus, your ass is still sore, I know why you didn’t want to sit down in the first place.”
Gaeul nicks her head up, lifts her eyebrows. You’re flashing the image in your head of earlier: her being soaked in your cum, mouth swollen and makeup ruined, naked with a pair of cat ears in her hair and wrists handcuffed to the edge of your bed. It’s been a few hours since then, but nothing’s stopping the urge from burning through your pants-
“Said you did a good job spanking me, did I?”
“You know my answer.”
“Touché.”
You shake your head and press your lips to her crown. Patting her head and rubbing her shoulder while she puts her thumb on her chin, carelessly minding her own business while you’re treating her; mind already tired and with the amount of pictures and papers and telescopes too complicated to listen to in a firm explanation, she’s unbothered. She pats your back twice to make you stop.
“We’re still grabbing drinks with Yujin after, right?” Gaeul asks, remembering the offer. “Her treat?”
“She’s a terrible liar,” you chuckle, “The tab’s on me.”
–
It’s all a process.
Day by day. The concept of love is not a linear path; getting to know someone and revealing the pieces, building that trust with a significant other, infatuated about the secrets and intricacies that you’ll take to your grave once they’re shared, seen, and spoken.
You’re up late nights, peering into your bedroom to see her legs tangled around a pillow. On certain days she comes home excited, jumping onto you at the door to times when she’s tired, and you’re piggybacking her inside because that’s what she likes. When she’s with Yujin, she’s normally quiet and laid-back - but with you, she’s all over the place. Telling you these unholy things that you don’t expect her to know when you’re fucking her into the bed; the way her voice sounds when she’s praising you. She goes around like her own little planet, full of wonderful things. She likes vinyls and vintage stuff and prefers to run outside when it’s raining. You let her steal your glasses because she looks better in them. Her smile is infectious. The way that she tousles and turns when you’re kissing every corner of her body and telling her all the things that she wants to hear. You’ve got the backlog filled out.
Spread her legs apart, have her sit up, ride your face. Break down those fragile walls until she’s completely sucked into your embrace. Gaeul desires a lot of things that you can try to give - the wonders of the world, a bigger picture - something that you’ll pull down from above and have her keep for the sentiment.
You’ll keep the fact that she’s somebody who wants to be ruined - get chaotic and a tad sadistic. She prefers the punishment over the crime.
–
Nights like these, it feels like some kind of mistake when Gaeul brings you over to her place.
There’s nothing bad happening whatsoever, you just feel the knife twist a little more when you can’t go inside because last time Liz and her other roommate caught you and her red-handed on the couch, even after having the assurance that they wouldn’t be home until later. It wouldn’t feel wrong to hug her, kiss her goodbye, knowing that you’ll probably see her around on campus in the afternoon later.
Gaeul gazes into your eyes earnestly, as if she didn’t want to go back in yet, hoping that you’ll take her away and carry her back to your apartment. A wish she made on a passing star and praying it comes true. With those white thigh highs she’s wearing, you’ll make that dream a reality in a heartbeat.
“How long have we been friends for again?” She asks, tugging on your jacket, slipping your hands around her hips. She’ll take wherever she can, you know her well. “Hard to believe that we’d be together. You know, like this.”
“Do I need to remind you who made the first move?”
“Fuck you.” She slaps your chest as part of the response. “I was trying to have a moment with you. So shut up.”
“Okay, I will, please continue.” You lift your shoulders in surrender. “For the record, I’d like to take most of the credit, since I asked and all that.”
Gaeul rolls her eyes to the back of her head. That was her whole plan from the start - had you not said anything to her, she wouldn’t be here taunting you; while being so quiet and pretty that it’s hard to combine the two.
“Depends on who asks,” she begins. Her cheeks rise, veneers highlighted. She throws everything out in your head with ease - one hint or subtle suggestion and the common thoughts get brushed aside. That’s a you problem. More so of a bigger problem compared to hers. She can read your expressions like a book.
So you say: “Are you asking?”
You keep looking at her, like you did back in the museum, wondering all of the pretty little things that differentiate her from the rest; her side profile, the bunny-heart-shaped-ears, how her lips purse together almost like a pout; it’s like you’re seeing some cosmic pareidolia. Kind of like putting fragments together from your dream.
Gaeul tilts her head, pondering. “If you are, then I’d agree with what you’re saying,” she tells you, kissing your cheek and stepping inside her apartment.