After 6-months of living together, a rough night out was all it takes for Chaewon to break the invisible boundary with her newly eighteen stepbrother, Daniel.
Writer's note:
This is a classic faux incest story that explore the forbidden theme of step-siblings intimacy, delivered in a First Person POV of our main character, Daniel Han.
No trigger warning since the smut part itself is probably the most vanilla one I wrote so far out of all my works.
Had an idea of turning this one into a series, but let's just see how it goes first.
The space was quiet except for the low hum of the television and the occasional creak of the old couch as we shifted.
Chaewon and I sat side by side, close enough that I could feel the warmth radiating from her bare thigh where her oversized t-shirt had ridden up. She always dressed like that at home—comfortable, effortless, and dangerously distracting.
We were halfway through another rewatch of Game of Thrones. On screen, Jon Snow was about to kiss Daenerys next to a frozen waterfall after a scenic flight across the north sky. I locked in instantly, tugging a pillow across my chest.
Then, without warning, the screen flickered and changed to some bland nature documentary.
I blinked slowly, then turned my head to the side. Chaewon had got the remote in her hand, her thumb sunk against the button unapologetically.
“Why did you switch the channel? Thing’s just about to get heated there,” I asked.
She didn’t even spare me a glance. “Exactly. And you still have to ask why?”
I huffed at her response, mildly annoyed. “Come on, Chae, it’s just a kissing scene. There’s nothing weird about it unless you want to make it weird. We’re both adults here.”
She finally turned her head, one perfectly arched eyebrow lifting in that signature way that always made my stomach tighten. Her eyes—sharp, hazel, and far too knowing—locked onto mine.
“Is that right now?" she said. "Because to me, it feels like I’m the only adult sitting on this couch right now while you’re a kid who just had his eighteenth birthday a few weeks ago and still acts like half his age most of the time.”
The words stung more than I wanted to admit, mainly due to the unwarranted nature of it. I stayed quiet for a beat, staring at her until the pain faded. The way the lamplight caught on the smooth curve of her neck, the faint flush on her cheeks… it was doing things to me it definitely shouldn’t.
“So you do know my birthday then?” I said, throwing the ball back at her from a different angle.
“Well, how could I not?” she shot back, narrowing her eyes at me. “Our parents literally arranged a whole Euro-trip to celebrate it.”
“Yeah, but you weren’t there, remember?” I leaned forward slightly, unable to keep the edge out of my tone. “You were too busy staying at your friend’s place instead of being present at your brother’s big coming-of-age event that can only happen once in a lifetime.”
Chaewon exhaled sharply, shifting on the couch so her knee brushed against mine. Not sure if it was intentional or not, though it was totally welcomed. The brief contact sent a spark straight through me.
“I was preparing for my exam, you child, not out there partying,” she said, a hint of defensiveness creeping into her voice. “And just to make the crime even less severe; you’re not even my real brother.”
“Don’t say that.” My voice dropped, quieter now. “I still care about you a lot even though we’re not related by blood. I believe that's what are our parents would have wanted anyway when they decided to bring us together as a family.”
Chaewon studied me for a long moment, something unreadable flickering behind those narrowed eyes.
“And when did I say that I didn't? I was just trying to defend myself since you were trying so hard to guilt-trip me and made me seem like a bad sister for not attending your fancy birthday trip.” She paused to push her hair back over her shoulder, then continued, “If anything, you’re just proving my point of you consistently acting like a child at your supposed grown age, so give me a break, Daniel.”
“Yeah, whatever.” I muttered, my gaze drifting involuntarily to the way her t-shirt clung to her chest as she breathed. “You’d be surprised what this child can do anyway when he does want to act like a man.”
“What’s that?” she asked casually, eyes already back on screen. “You’re speaking in a deep voice, I can’t hear you.”
“Nothing,” I said, playing the innocent. “Can we switch the channel back, please? I think they’ve already done making it out by now. It’s Game of Thrones we were watching, not porn.”
Chaewon let out a soft huff while giving me a lingering look; half-tired, half-suspicious. For a second, her fingers hovered over the remote, and I caught her glance at me again—upstairs, then lower. The silence stretched, charged with everything we weren’t saying.
And the only way to resolve it was by bringing the dragons back on screen—which she eventually did. Thank God. Or damn it?
***
Time slipped away as we kept binging through the episodes. Scenes after scenes blurred together in a constant shift of attention between our phone and the big screen. The living room grew dimmer as the sun dipped lower outside, making everything seemed cozier than it initially was. By the time the credits rolled on the season finale, the house felt even quieter, more intimate. The only sounds were the faint hum of the closing theme and the annoying keyboard-tapping sound from Chaewon’s phone.
I turned my head to say something—and froze.
Her legs were stretched out casually across the couch, almost using my lap as a foot rest. Those tiny rolled-up shorts riding high on her thighs from hours of lounging. The smooth, toned skin looked impossibly soft in the warm, fading light. My gaze lingered a second too long, tracing the curve where her spilled flesh met the hem of the fabric. The dark little mole she got just below her hips staring at me in the size of a quarter, locking my eyes in position out of my own will.
Heat rushed through me, sharp and unwelcome. Fuck. I forced my eyes away, heart pounding.
Chaewon was scrolling on her phone, completely unaware, lips slightly parted in that relaxed way she got when she was lost in her own world. I needed to move before things escalated in my head.
I cleared my throat and pushed off the couch. “Hey, um… I’m gonna call the pizza place for dinner. You want to order anything?”
“No, thanks. I’m going out with a friend later for a little house party,” she said, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Might be home a bit late, in fact, so just order for yourself. No need to waste food around here.”
“Alrighty.”
I headed toward the kitchen with my phone and grabbed myself a glass of water, trying to put some distance between us. But for some reason, I felt the urge to be in her hair still, almost like I was craving for her attention as I wandered back to where I came from and leaned against the moulded wall of the living room.
“And, uh… which friend is that again, if you don’t mind me asking? Is it Jennifer? Or Kazuha?”
Chaewon lowered her phone and turned her head around slowly, giving me a look that was equal parts amusement and suspicion. “I beg your pardon, sir? Why do you feel the need to ask me that?”
“I mean, why not?” I said, shrugging my shoulders, “It’s a valid question.”
She tilted her head, studying me with those sharp hazel eyes of hers. The sunset glow caught on her skin and her silky brown hair, making her look even more dangerously beautiful than she already was. I tried not to notice how her t-shirt had slipped off one shoulder. No strap in sight, so that could only mean one thing.
“Think of a situation where you suddenly got kidnapped on your way to the said house party,” I continued, “in which I happened to be the last person who saw you leaving the house. The detectives would definitely want to talk to me in that scenario. And unfortunately, I’d have no useful answers to give them, except maybe for your OOTD and the time of your departure.” I took a sip off my cold glass while approaching towards her in slow steps, being intentionally dramatic for the fun of it, as I then added, “Now that’d be pretty disappointing, right? We’d wish to find you as soon as possible before any ransom demands come in… Or, of course, before they do anything harmful to you. God forbid.”
Chaewon’s lips curved into a slow, skeptical smile.
She set her phone down on the arm rest before hugging the couch to address me, as she said, “I see… So you’re asking purely out of care for my safety, and not because you've taken an interest in my private life or the prospect of hitting on my friends?”
“Absolutely,” I nodded, “Why would you even assume that in the first place?”
“Because you mentioned my friends by name, Daniel, and I somehow don’t remember ever introducing them to you directly,” said Chaewon, her tone cynical. “Care to explain?”
“Oh, well...it's just common knowledge, isn't it?” I replied, trying to act nonchalant with my hand in my hair. “I mean, I’ve seen them two dropping you off here a couple times, and you tag them in a lot of your Instagram posts, so—no detective work done. Just being attentive.”
“Right.” Her tone dripped with playful sarcasm. “Then maybe I should consider blocking you from all my social media accounts before I start getting complaints that you’re sliding into my friends’ DMs soon. Do you think that's necessary??”
“I don’t think that’s necessary at all, no,” I said. “But you do what you have to do. Anything that’ll help my step-sister sleep at night, I won’t stand against it.”
I tried to keep my expression casual, shrugging like the whole conversation barely registered while I savored the undivided attention Chaewon was giving me.
She didn’t say anything right away. Those cute little brown eyes traced my face slowly, almost thoughtfully, as if she were trying to peel back whatever mask of nonchalance I was wearing. The corner of her mouth twitched, just slightly, like she was biting back a comment.
This was fun. Maybe even too fun for my own good that it somehow switched something up inside me. Something bold and dangerous, and this small belief that I might just get lucky today if things continued to go this way.
***
Night settled over the house, the living room now lit only by the glow of the TV and a couple of lamps. With Chaewon gone for her party and the place suddenly feeling too empty, I texted my best friend, Liam, to come over and spend the night with me.
He showed up within the hour, and soon enough we were sprawled on the couch with pizza boxes open on the coffee table, controllers in hand, deep into a marathon session of 2K.
“God damn it, how the hell did that not go in? It was a free layup!” Liam yelled, throwing his hands up in exaggerated frustration.
“Yeah, you need to work on your timing, buddy,” I shot back with a grin. “Instead of just mashing the buttons like a twelve-year-old. There’s levels to this shit.”
“But I didn’t mash the button mindlessly though. I’ve got quick fingers.”
“Yeah. Sure you do.”
We kept playing, trash-talking back and forth until the final seconds ticked down. I drained a ridiculous buzzer-beater right over his player’s head, winning the game in the most classic, humiliating style possible.
“And… boom! That’s game right there, I'm calling it,” I leaned back, laughing. “But seriously, you’re starting to make me feel like I’m way too good at this. Maybe I should even consider going pro e-sports instead of taking the old college route.”
Liam looked at me annoyed. “Nah, fuck you, Danny. You’re not even that good.”
“Exactly. That’s my point.”
We both set our controllers aside and reached for our cans of soda, the room filled with the comfortable silence of full bellies and friendly competition.
Liam took a long sip, then asked casually, “But speaking of college… where’s your sister gone? Is she gonna be home soon?”
I frowned at the random pivot, staring at him absurdly. “Well, uh… she’s out with her friend actually. And I don’t know exactly what time she’ll be back.”
“Oh, okay,” he nodded. “That’s cool.”
Liam tried to play it nonchalantly as he downed his can, though my eyes refused to let him go just yet—not until I received a bit of explanation from him for that pivot.
“So, um… how exactly do those two things correlate again?”
“What two things?”
“My step-sister. And college.”
“Well, she is a college student, no?”
“Yeah, but I’m pretty sure she ain’t the only person you know that’s in college right now, so how come she’s the first thing that came to your mind when I mentioned that word earlier?”
Liam shrugged, a smirk creeping across his face while he leaned over to grab another piece of pizza. “Because she’s hot, obviously.” He paused to take a big bite out of the triangle, then added, “Wait, you don’t mind me saying that, do you?”
“Um… honestly? I don’t know how to feel about it yet,” I told him. “But as long as we keep it respectful, I think we might just be good.”
“Oh, of course, man. I mean that in a respectful way, for sure,” confirmed Liam with a mouthful, completely casual about it. “Though in my mind, I have to admit that I’ve slept with her a couple times already. Just so you know.”
“Wow, okay.” I let out a surprised laugh. “Just after I thought we’re keeping it classy around here, you go ahead and drop the bomb like it’s nothing.”
Liam laughed. “I’m sorry, man. I just feel like, as your best friend, I’d be doing you wrong if I don’t tell you that I’ve been fantasizing about your sister for a good number of months now. We’re bros over hoes, you know that.”
“Yeah… then I guess I appreciate your honesty, Liam. Big time.”
A heavy silence stretched between us for a few seconds. I thought the topic was finally dying, but Liam leaned forward again, eyes bright with curiosity.
“Wait, but surely you did too, right?”
“Did what?”
“Fantasized about your sister.”
I shifted on the couch, suddenly very aware of the half-eaten pizza slice in my hand.
“I mean, your room is literally next to hers,” he continued. “You’ve seen her roaming around the house from day to day in God knows what kind of clothes she wears—or the lack of it. And last but not least, she’s your step-sister. Which means we both know that there’s a sense of novelty and thrill that comes with that label, especially when they look like that.” Liam paused to lick his saucy fingers after taking the final bite, then continued, “So again, on those few good points I just laid out upon us, you need to admit that you must’ve thought about it, right? Sometimes, at least, if not all the time.”
I paused for a beat. My mind flashing back to earlier that evening—Chaewon’s thighs in those tiny shorts, her heaving chest while she laid on the couch, the way her eyes had lingered on me before she left. All of those things suddenly made my throat feel a little tight.
There was no urgency for me to answer that question truthfully, though for some reason, I kind of wanted to do it still. Just to perhaps clear it off my chest.
“Yeah… for sure,” I said. “I can admit to that.”
“I knew it. I fucking knew it,” Liam cheered, grinning like he’d won another game. “Would be way weirder if you didn’t, to be honest. I might have to think twice the next time you invite me for a hang out when it’s just the two of us.”
I chuckled at the comment, but my mind was low-key reeling from everything we’d just put into words. The casual way Liam talked about her stirred something uncomfortable in my chest—possessiveness mixed with guilt, and underneath it all, the undeniable heat of my own thoughts about Chaewon that I could no longer pretend weren’t there.
***
The night was growing late, the living room thick with the smell of pizza and the constant sounds of video game commentary. Liam and I were still glued to the couch, controllers in hand, when I heard the familiar click of the front door unlocking.
Chaewon stepped inside in her grey shoulder-less top. Even from across the room, I could see the stormy expression on her face—tight lips, furrowed brows, shoulders slightly hunched. Her short, brown hair bounced off her shoulder within every stomping step. She didn’t say a word to either of us, but rather just kicked off her shoes and darted inside like we didn’t exist.
Me and Liam followed her until she disappeared into the kitchen before we turned at each other with a knowing look. Something was totally off.
“Damn...How does she look even hotter when she’s off it?” said Liam, mouth hanging open in pure awe.
I smirked at the truthful praise from Liam, already having a plan in mind.
“I’m sure you’d like to know, buddy...” I muttered as I set my controller down and jumped off the couch. “Bathroom break. Be back in five minutes.”
I then grabbed my shirt off the arm rest and dashed towards the kitchen as I put it on a hurry.
Chaewon was at the fridge when I walked in, bending over slightly between the twin, giant doors to locate the alcohol beverages sitting deep in the bottom rack.
I rested my elbows on the cool marble surface of the kitchen island, taking in the view of her round, plump buttocks under those tight blue jeans before I eventually began to address her sorrow.
“You got home early,” I said. “Guess the party didn’t turn out to be that fun then.”
“Oh, shut up, Daniel,” she snapped, barely glancing at me. “I’m not in the mood to entertain your crap right now.”
She then slammed the fridge door shut with an unnecessary amount of force after retaining a nice, cold bottle of Smirnoff in her right, along with a tall wine glass from the upper shelves. Her eyes refused to meet mine as she poured herself a very generous amount of vodka right across me; a borderline reckless behaviour from her side.
“Well, I can see that,” I said. “That’s a full glass of hard liquor you just served for yourself right there. Even a raging alcoholic usually adds some tonic water to balance it out.”
She glared at me in annoyance. “What do you know about alcohol? You’re barely old enough to drink.”
“Exactly. I’m eighteen, about to turn nineteen in a couple months, so yes—I do know a thing or two about alcohol,” I told her with a sense of smug confidence in my voice. “And you’d be surprised what else I know at my young, ripe age. Media exposure is a wonderful thing. Having a working social life makes it even better.”
Chaewon let out an exasperated sigh. For a moment, I thought she might be totally fed-up with me at this point and tell me to fuck off again. But instead, she turned around and grabbed a second glass from the shelf, transferred half of her original portion into it, and slid it across the island toward me—an unspoken invitation for a drink.
Couldn’t say that I saw that one coming.
“Thanks,” I said as I lifted the glass off the marble, “Now you can’t say that I don’t care about your health, because I clearly do.”
She glared at me for a second, then muttered with a subtle shake of her head, “You boys are all the same.”
I took a sip, the vodka burning smoothly down my throat. “We do? In what way?”
She pushed her tongue against her cheek, then answered, “Unserious. Annoying. Hard to read.”
“Hard to read?” I repeated with a chuckle. “Are you sure you’re not somehow mistaking the gender here? Because I’m pretty sure that particular stereotype fits more on the other side of the spectrum.” I paused for a beat after realizing how that may have sounded, then added, “Not saying that I agree with it though, but generally speaking.”
“Well, at least us women don’t usually treat guys like a fleeting form of entertainment, and that stereotype mostly comes from us not being able to confess ourselves directly from time to time. Not because we got too many options on the table,” she shot back.
“So is that what happened tonight?” I asked, voice softening. “He treated you like an entertainment instead of a person?”
She stared at me for a good few seconds, flexing her wrist to get the liquid swirling in her glass while she thought of the next words that should come out of her mouth in a way that she wouldn’t regret later—presumably, of course.
“In a way, yeah,” she said calmly. “We had a pretty good time at the party, but then moments later I saw him putting his hand around another girl’s shoulder as if he didn’t just totally flirt with me a few seconds prior.” She took a long sip, then twisted her face as it flowed down her pipe, then added, “And why am I telling you this again? I don’t know. I’m shocked with myself too, to be honest.”
“I think it’s because you needed to let something off your chest and I happened to be the only one around.” I leaned in a little closer. “But anyway, if you'd allow me to say one thing, then maybe a beer-infused party filled with raving young people isn’t really the ideal place to find a loyal partner. Don’t you think?”
“It wasn’t even that kind of party, you smart-ass. It was a tame one,” she said, rolling her eyes. “And how do you even know there was beer being served?”
“Oh, I don’t know about that. It was just a guess,” I said, followed by another small sip of the vanilla liquor. “But an educated one, I might add, given the faint smell of your breath that I managed to catch from here while we're talking.”
Chaewon quickly brought her hand up to check her own breath, her cheeks turning a faint shade of red as she realized I was right. I just stood there and smirked every time I managed to draw that little frowny look up across her face, simply enjoying how cute she looked while watching from a safe distance.
“Whatever. I’m gonna go take a shower now,” she said, clearly embarrassed as she started walking away from the island. “Have fun spending the night with your virgin friend—”
I moved without thinking. Was it the alcohol? I wasn’t sure. But the moment she was about to walk past me, I suddenly had this false confidence to reach out my hand and grabbed her wrist in the middle of her steps; firmly but gently.
She then turned at me with a rather empty gaze after I initiated the contact; not entirely happy, but not clearly resisting it either. Though of course, my limb moved quicker than my mouth did in that little bold act, because somehow I lost the ability to talk once we locked eyes in that intimate angle.
As a result, it took me like a good three seconds or so to eventually snap out of her gaze before casually asking her, “Can I come and join you tonight?”
Chaewon frowned, looking down at my hand around her tiny wrist. “Join me for what?”
“A shower.”
“Excuse me?” she chuckled, eyes widening drastically. “Did you seriously just ask me that?”
“I did, yeah. And I’m being genuine about it too.”
“Is it?” she questioned. “Because you’re holding a half glass of vodka, and I’m kinda regretting my decision to hand it to you just now. I thought you could handle it for how ‘mature’ you’ve been trying to act around me the whole day.”
“Oh, this has nothing to do with the drink, trust me. I’ve been thinking about it for a while, but could never really find the right time to ask.”
“So what makes tonight any different then?”
“Well, let’s see,” I said, holding her gaze. “You’re frustrated. Downcasted. Missing out on company—let alone a romantic one. You came home from a night out reeking of cheap beer, yet the first thing you did was open the fridge and pour yourself a tall glass of vodka. Well, at least until I showed up… then you decided to split the half of it for the sake of your own image. So… yeah. This seems like the right time to ask.”
Chaewon stared at me, lips slightly parted in a visible showing of shock and disbelief from being analytically exposed.
I didn’t look away. My heart was hammering, but I kept my voice steady, my fingers still loosely wrapped around her wrist. The air between us felt electric.
“Right… So you think you’re being smooth here, aren’t you?” she finally said, a mix of acceptance and something else flickering in her eyes. “Offering me company while I’m in a vulnerable state. That’s real charming. I can see you growing into a proper gentleman in a few years to come.”
“So, is that a yes?”
She didn’t answer right away. Instead, she held my gaze, searching for any sign that I was bluffing. The silence stretched, thick and heavy. I could smell the faint trace of beer and vodka on her breath, mixed with her usual subtle perfume.
“Put down the glass, Daniel,” she finally said with a little smirk. “You’ve been missing from the couch long enough—your friend might start looking for you.”
She then pulled her wrist free and headed upstairs without another word. Of course, I didn’t follow her, given that she did not clearly say yes to the proposition.
Though the fact that she hadn’t clearly said no either was enough to leave with me a little bit of hope. A small, satisfied smirk tugged at my lips as I returned to the living room and dropped back onto the couch beside Liam like nothing happened.
“So did you find out?” asked Liam, casually and randomly.
I frowned, turning my head slowly to him. “About what?”
“What do you mean about what—How does she manage to look that hot when she’s angry? We were literally discussing it before you left.”
Bruh. How was this guy my best friend again?
***
About half an hour had passed since that charged conversation in the kitchen. The couple of sips of vodka I’d taken earlier had settled into a warm, fuzzy buzz in my veins. Nothing extreme, but enough to make my reactions feel a little sluggish. I was back on the couch beside Liam, controller in hand, but my performance had tanked hard. For the first time all night, he was absolutely crushing me.
Part of me blamed the alcohol. The bigger part knew it had nothing to do with the drink and everything to do with Chaewon—her flushed cheeks, the way her wrist had felt in my grip, the way she looked at me when she left without saying no.
I tried to stay calm on the outside, leaning back like I was just having an off game. I didn’t want Liam catching even a hint of what had gone down in the kitchen.
“Bro, I told you—you’re not even that good at this,” Liam crowed, smashing buttons with renewed energy. “I’ve just been warming up all night, and now I’m hot as fuck.”
“Yeah, just chill out, pal,” I muttered. “There’s still two quarters left. I might just make a comeback here.”
“Not if you’re playing like this, Danny. Nuh-uh.”
Liam kept going, trash-talking me relentlessly—the same way I’d been roasting him for hours earlier.
“LET’S GOO—I told you, you’re not coming back from this. No chance. I’m fucking him right now,” he taunted after officially beating me in the game. “How does that dunk taste on your stupid head, huh?”
“Not great, buddy. Not great.”
“I’m sure it doesn’t. HA-HA. Loser!”
I barely reacted, just letting the taunts roll off me. Honestly, I could barely focus on the game anymore. My mind kept drifting upstairs, replaying every second of that kitchen exchange. The vodka buzz only made the thoughts hotter, more vivid.
Then my phone vibrated against the arm of the couch. I glanced down casually and saw Chaewon’s name on the screen. A small smile tugged at my lips before I even opened the message.
Chaewon: Send him home and come to my room. Now.
My pulse spiked instantly. I smirked down at the screen, the words hitting me like a shot of adrenaline cutting through the haze. The wait was finally over. After six months of dancing around that fake boundary we’d both pretended to respect—all because of a stupid label—tonight was the night it would break.
Liam then rolled his head suspiciously upon noticing the glimmer on my face. “What..?”
***
“Wait — Dude, at least let us finish the game first. I was leading the score!”
“Nah, we can continue tomorrow.” Liam stared at me like I’d lost my mind as I steered him towards the door. “I’ll let you have the win tonight, alright? No hard feelings. I just got something important to handle right now.”
“Like what?” He frowned, digging his heels in. “We’ve been chilling for the last two hours. You said yourself that you had no plans tonight.”
“Well, I didn’t,” I muttered, quickly slipping my phone into my pocket before the screen lit up again. “Until now.”
Despite his loud protests, I kept gently but firmly shoving him outside into the cool night air. My mind was already upstairs. Liam was saying something about betrayal and “bros before whatever the hell this is,” but I barely heard him.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, alright, buddy?” I gave him the most convincing smile I could manage. “Good night.”
“Fine. But I think I left something on your couch—“
I closed the door on his face before he could finish another sentence, not wanting to waste any more time than I should. The second I heard it clicked shut behind me, I pulled my phone out again. Chaewon’s message was still there, glowing on the screen. She hadn’t deleted it. That meant this was really happening.
I took a deep breath, heart already hammering, and took the stairs two at a time. For the first time in six months, after walking past her door every single day, my pulse was racing like this. The hallway felt unnaturally quiet. I caught myself tiptoeing like an idiot, even though I knew there was no need for that at all.
Her door was slightly ajar.
A small smirk tugged at my lips, believing that she’d intentionally left it open for me. I pushed it gently and stepped inside.
The room was dimly lit by her bedside lamp. Chaewon wasn’t there, but the evidence of her was left on the floor like a murder trail. Her grey top, dark blue jeans, and matching white underwear lay scattered across the carpet near the bed — a trail that made my mouth go dry. The soft sound of running water drew me toward the bathroom door, which was cracked open just enough for me to take a peek.
I held my breath and slid it open, fingers getting a little shaky now out of pure adrenaline rush.
And there she was.
Chaewon stood completely naked in front of the wide mirror, brushing her teeth with slow, casual strokes. Her smooth back, the gentle curve of her waist flaring into full hips, the perfect swell of her tiny but plump ass — every inch of her was on full display. Water from the faucet ran steadily as she rinsed.
Our eyes met in the mirror first before she turned her head slowly at me. Her gaze was steady, almost challenging.
I gulped hard. My cock twitched and thickened instantly beneath my Jordan basketball shorts, the bulge impossible to hide. I didn’t even try to cover it. Not when she was standing there like that — bare, confident, scanning me from head to toe.
“Is he gone?” she asked, voice low and slightly muffled around the toothbrush.
I smirked, my voice rougher than usual. “You bet.”
***
After the brief confirmation of Liam’s departure, I invited myself into the bathroom and moved right up behind Chaewon by the sink counter, pressing my body flat against hers like I was entitled for it. My arms slid around her waist, pulling her close until there was almost no space left between us. The heat of her bare skin soaked through my clothes instantly. My hard bulge nestled firmly against the curve of her lower back through the thin fabric of my shorts.
Chaewon didn’t pull away. If anything, she leaned back slightly into the contact, watching me through the mirror with those sharp hazel eyes as my hands began to explore her body like it was a free real estate.
I ran my palms slowly over her stomach, up her sides, cupping the soft weight of her A-cup breasts, then drifting down again to trace the flare of her hips and the smooth skin of her thighs. Every inch of her felt incredible—including the mere scent of her hair that was a mix of pear and freesia—driving me to the absolute peak of my arousal as I took a deep inhale out of it, thanks to my lanky six-foot figure that just towered her naturally as I stood before her.
“Before we go further into this,” Chaewon said, her voice soft but firm, “I want us to make some rules clear.”
“Uh-huh,” I murmured, my lips brushing her ear while I caressed her body. “I’m listening.”
Chloue huffed at my over-excitement, but didn’t stop me from indulging her. “Rule number one; you need to make sure that you wear protection when you go inside me. That’s the most important thing.”
“So you don’t trust my pull-out game is what you’re saying?” I teased. “I’m disappointed.”
Chaewon glared at me through the mirror. The look was meant to be intimidating, but it only made her look even cuter; something that I was already well familiar with about her. I grinned.
She sighed and continued, “Rule number two; no kissing.”
“No kissing? You mean, like, on the lips?” She shot me a deadpan stare, silently implying that it was obvious. Though genuinely, I didn’t think it was at the time. “So how are we supposed to get in the mood for it?”
“Oh, please,” she said, pressing back against my erection deliberately. “As if I can’t already feel how hard you are the way you’re poking on my back right now. Let’s not be greedy about it.”
“Fair enough,” I chuckled. “But without trying to be pushy, may I ask why?”
“Well, because, obviously, kissing feels a little… personal.”
“And me groping your naked body is not?” I said, giving her breasts a gentle squeeze. “I mean, not trying to be an asshole here, but you do realize how slightly laughable that may have sounded, right?”
Chaewon let out an exasperated sigh, though her nipples had hardened under my palms. “The point is, you need to understand that we’re both doing each other a favour here. Which means there should be no real feelings involved at any point that we did this — and that includes before, during, and after.”
“Right,” I said, lips brushing close to her soft cheek, “but who says that kisses always have to be meaningful? It’s just two lips clashing. With a little bit of tongue, if you’re into it. Actors do it all the time, yet you don’t see them ending up dating each other that often.”
“Yeah, well, the problem is I’m not an actor, Daniel. And so I’d only like to kiss the mouth of a person who I at least feel romantically attracted to, which God forbid that person is my fucking eighteen year old step-brother. Do you understand?”
I raised my hands in mock defeat just as soon as she raised her voice by a notch, though only for a few seconds before my itchy little fingers find their way back to her body. “So, um… is there a rule number 3, 4, 5 coming, or was that all?”
“Yeah, there is a last one. And that is to keep your mouth shut about this from absolutely everyone.”
“Well, I thought that one goes without saying.”
“Ideally it should. But given your age and your tendency to act like half of it, I feel like it’s important for me to remind you still, in case you’ve already thought about bragging about this to your friends like a childish little prick you are for the most part that we’ve lived together.”
“Oh, wow… Okay. That feels a little personal.” I grinned against her neck, rolling my hips slowly so she could feel exactly how hard I was in between her crack. “Though I have to say, I’ve never been this turned on from having someone calling me a prick before, so... congratulations, sister. You nailed the foreplay.”
***
By the time we finished laying out the rules, the air in the bathroom was thick with tension. Chaewon had sunk gracefully to her knees on the cool tile floor, and my shorts were pooled around my ankles. Her hungry little mouth was wrapped around my throbbing cock; wet and slick.
She moved with a surprising level of skills and dedication — head bobbing steadily back and forth, taking me deeper with each pass. Her hands rested politely on her own thighs, not needing them for support.
In a way, it reminded me of that one Waka Flocka’s song called No Hands featuring Wale and Roscoe Dash. What a banger. And what a way to learn the true meaning of that iconic hook.
But anyway, the sight of my stepsister on her knees, lips stretched around me, was almost too much. I tilted my head back toward the ceiling, groaning softly. “My word… You’re surprisingly better at this than I thought you’d be.”
Chaewon pulled off just long enough to glare up at me. “Save the comments to yourself, alright? I would much prefer to not receive any praise from you while we do this.”
“Why not?” I smirked, threading my fingers gently through her hair. “You deserve the praise the way you flick them tongue under my tip. It’s clear to me that you know exactly what you’re doing here.”
She let my cock slip from her mouth with a wet pop, a thin string of saliva still connecting her lips to the head. She started stroking me firmly with one hand while staring up at me, equal parts annoyed and flushed. The sight — her messy chin, flushed cheeks, and fiery eyes — was easily the hottest thing I had ever seen.
“Show some love to my balls too, if you will,” I said, voice rough. “They’ve been a bit cold down there.”
And despite the clear sense of vexation on her face from being told what to do, Chaewon leaned in anyway, hesitated for only half a second before sucking one of my sagging balls into her warm mouth. Then the other, swirling her tongue sloppily around them while jerking my spit-soaked cock with long, firm strokes. The wet sucking sounds echoed obscenely in the bathroom as she completely bathed my nuts, getting them shiny and dripping with her precious drool.
Pleasure rolled through me in heavy waves, and I had to grip the crown of of her head to stay upright. When she finally pulled back, my balls slipping from her lips with a soft sound. She coughed lightly and clawed at her tongue with a look of utter disgust, trying to dislodge a stray pubic hair that somehow got stuck on the corner of her mouth.
“Gosh, that’s so gross,” she muttered, twisting her face. “I’m never doing that again unless you shave them.”
“So you’re confirming there’s gonna be again?”
Chaewon glared up at me from the floor — the same sharp, annoyed look she’d given me countless times tonight. It only made me want her more.
She got to her feet, clearly deciding she’d done her part for now. She reached into a nearby
drawer, pulled out a piece of fresh condom, and pressed it onto the palm of my hand.
“Put it on,” she instructed. “I want you to take me from behind while I shower.”
Without another word, she turned away and walked toward the shower booth. Her naked body moving with that natural confidence that I had seen from her everyday, ass swaying invitingly in a way that was guaranteed to keep me rock hard for another hour or so.
I tore the packet with a hungry smirk, staring at it like I had just been handed the key to a golden treasure chest. “Gladly,” I whispered.
***
I rolled the condom down my throbbing cock, then stepped into the shower booth with light, eager steps. Hot water cascaded over Chaewon’s naked body, making her skin glisten. Steam quickly filled the small space, fogging the glass walls and trapping us together in humid heat.
No invitation needed. I approached her from behind and pressed up against her, my hands gripping her waist as my thick, rubberized pole nestled between her ass cheeks. I leaned in, kissing and sucking hungrily at the side of her neck, inhaling her sweet, slightly beer-tinged scent while grinding against her.
Chaewon closed her eyes and let out a shaky breath. One of her arms reached back, fingers threading into my hair as she pulled me harder against her neck.
“So, um… which door am I supposed to enter again?” I whispered teasingly against her wet skin.
“Don’t you even dare think about it, you prick,” she snapped. “That isn’t funny,”
“Well, I was just checking,” I chuckled. “You said yourself that you wanted this whole thing to feel as least personal as possible.”
“You know what else I want? For you to stop talking. Before I have a complete change of mind about this and leave you with that huge boner to take care of by yourself.”
“Okay, darling. My bad.”
I lined up my swollen tip with her slick, pink pussy lips and teased her entrance, rubbing the head up and down her wet slit. She squirmed every time I nudged her swollen clit. Then I pushed forward, sinking into her tight, scorching heat in one slow, deliberate thrust.
“Fuck…” Chaewon moaned, arching her back hard as I bottomed out balls-deep inside her. Her hand flew up to cover her mouth, but it wasn’t enough to muffle the broken sounds escaping her.
I gripped her waist tighter and started fucking her properly — deep, ruthless strokes that made her ass ripple with every impact. Water splashed between our bodies as her pussy clenched greedily around my cock. Chaewon pressed both hands against the shower wall for balance, involuntary yelps and moans spilling from her lips with every thrust.
My hand eventually slid up to wrap around her throat, tilting her head back so I could see her pretty face while I railed her like an absolute rabbit. Her eyes were half-lidded, pupil trembling, lips parted in pleasure. Too bad that she prohibited from us kissing, ‘cause *boy*, would I love to have a taste of those luscious little smackers.
But anyway, after a while, I decided to open her up even more by hooking one arm under her left thigh and lifting it high. My other hand pressed against her lower belly for support as I drove into her harder, hitting a new, deeper angle.
Chaewon went up a pitch with her scream — a raw, shocked sound of pleasure she couldn’t hold back. Her arm instinctively found its way around my shoulder for support, now that she was forced to stand with just one leg touching the floor.
“Use the wall, Chae. Plant your foot against it.”
She obeyed with no resistance, bracing her raised leg against the foggy glass, freeing my hand from the weight in the process.
I used the freedom to grab her bouncing tit, squeezing it hard and firm before I buried my face against her neck while I continued to pound into her soaked pussy with brutal, wet slaps. The sound of skin-on-skin mixed with the running water filled the booth, accompanied by her soft, desperate moan.
“Oh my god, fuck—” she gasped as I was moving a little rough, one arm wrapped back around my head, eyes squeezed shut in overwhelming pleasure.
I kept railing her mercilessly, hips snapping forward, cock stretching her tight walls over and over until her legs started shaking. My goal was to make sure that she reached orgasm before I did, otherwise this would likely be a one-time event instead of a repeating one—and judging by the state of her at the time, I thought I might just achieve my goal there.
Eventually, I pulled out from her to give both of us a little bit of a breathing space after the intense sequence.
Though needless to say, the bonding session was far from over as I spun her around and hooked both arms under her thighs. I lifted her effortlessly off the floor, her petite body weighed almost nothing on me.
Her legs spread wide around my waist as I pinned her back against the cold shower wall; probably one of the most intimate positions we’ve done yet so far. And it made me feel a little nervous.
“W-Wait, what are we doing here again?” she breathed, eyes fleeting.
“Uhm… kind of like missionary,” I told her, in the simplest way I could think of. “Just put your arms around and lean back. I’ll handle the rest.”
Chaewon obliged and wrapped her arms around my neck. For the first time, we were directly sitting face to face with her bare pussy hovering right above my hard cock. The closeness made the air felt even thicker than. I stared at her lips for a long second, fighting the urge to kiss her, then lined up and slammed back inside her in one brutal thrust.
She let out a voiceless moan, back arching against the tiles as I started bouncing her on my cock. I fucked her hard in mid-air, using my arms and hips to drive deep into her dripping cunt with every stroke. Her tits bounced wildly between us, water streaming down her body as she clung
desperately to my neck.
The pressure built fast. My balls tightened in between my tired legs. Luckily, I could feel myself closing in.
I pulled out my dick from her, set her back on her feet, and brought her down to her knees with a little tug on her arm. Chaewon didn’t resist by the slightest, fully aware of what was about to come in her way.
I ripped the condom off my aching cock and started jerking furiously right in front of her face.
“You’re fine with me doing this to you, right?” I panted.
“I never said that,” she replied, looking up at me. “But as long as it’s not inside me, I’ll let you have your fun this time. I guess you kinda deserve it.”
I smirked at the confirmation. That was all I needed.
With a deep groan, I exploded. Thick, heavy ropes of cum shot across her pretty face. The first powerful spurt hit right in between her eyes. She flinched and closed them immediately as more cum painted her cheeks, lips. chin and hair. I kept stroking, milking every last drop onto her until it dripped messily down her tits and mixed with the warm shower water.
Chaewon stayed on her knees, face fully covered in my thick load, visibly annoyed but accepting of the generous gift.
“Oh, shit. That was a lot more than I expected,” I said, still catching my breath. “I almost drowned you there, didn’t I?”
“Yeah… Can’t say the same, unfortunately,” she replied dryly, wiping some cum from her eyelid. “Given how lonely and pent-up you are, I already half-expected it to be a pretty hefty one.”
“Hey, I’m not lonely. I just don’t have a girlfriend. Chose not to have a girlfriend.”
“Right, whatever.”
Chaewon stood up slowly, still scraping the cum off her face. She looked understandably a little tired, a little disgusted, but satisfied.
“Now if you don’t mind, I’d like to clean myself up and go to bed, so… kindly grab your clothes off the shower floor and proceed to leave my room in a quiet, respectable manner,” she said. “Make sure you close the door on your way out too.”
“Wait, already?” I argued. “I thought we’re going to have a shower together.”
“Well, we just did. Literally.”
“Yeah, but that wasn’t like a proper shower, was it? My hair is barely wet right now. And so does yours, apparently.”
“You’re right. But I also don’t remember mentioning that I wanted to have a nice hot shower with you when we started this, so stop acting like I owe you an aftercare or something. We both did our parts, and now I’d like to take care of myself alone, if that’s not too much to ask.”
“Wow… okay. I just didn’t realize how cold you can be at times, and that shit kinda impressed me.”
Chaewon turned around and stepped away from the running water to approach me, looking me dead in the eyes with a stain of cum still streaking on her face and hair. “I’m not cold, Daniel. I’m your older stepsister who’s trying to do damage control after we just did what most people would call the unthinkable. So the last thing I want is for us to start scrubbing each other’s body and acting like a real couple — especially while I still have your fucking cum all over me. You understand?”
“Y-Yes, Ma’am. Got it.”
She then returned towards the shower after giving me the good scolding, probably the most intimidating one yet that I’ve received from her in the last six months that we had been living together.
Like seriously, I was a little shook. But that also didn’t take away any bit of hotness that I found on her. If anything, it just amplified it.
Either way, I stepped out of the booth and gathered my damp clothes from the floor, taking my time to get dressed in front of the mirror with a euphoric smile still glued to my face.
At the same time, my eyes refused to leave Chaewon just yet as I watched her glorious, naked body through the fogged glass, hoping that this wouldn’t be the last time that I got to enjoy the view and everything it entailed.
She caught me staring eventually. “Daniel, go.”
I smirked and raised my hands. “Okay, okay, I’m going. Just tying up the lace here.”
She shot me one last annoyed glare, refusing to move an inch until she witnessed me finally stepping out of the bathroom.
Though suddenly, just as I set foot on the carpet outside, a faint creak of the door made me pause and snapped my head to the side. For a split second, I could have sworn I heard faint footsteps retreating down the hallway as I stared into the darkness of the crack, though part of me knew that wasn’t possible since nobody else should be at the house at that moment except for me and Chaewon.
ASPA-003 Blackmailing My Stepsister Until Her Mind Breaks.
Words : 10,605 Words
You heard her laugh first. That sharp, mocking sound that used to twist something cold in your gut. It came from the campus cafe’s outdoor seating, a little cluster of her friends gathered like vultures around a joke only they understood.
You saw her then. Minjeong. Your stepsister. Leaning back in her chair, sunlight catching the honey streaks in her hair she spent so much money on. She was holding court, a smug little smile on her lips.
“No, seriously,” her voice carried, crisp and clear. “He tried to explain his coding project to me last night. It was like listening to a malfunctioning dishwasher. Beep boop, error.”
Her friends tittered. One of them, a guy named Jae you recognized, chuckled and shook his head. “Sounds about right.”
You didn’t feel the old flare of humiliation. Not today. Instead, a slow, deep calm settled over you. Your fingers brushed the phone in your pocket, its weight solid and real. A weapon. You walked straight towards their table.
Minjeong saw you approach. Her smile didn’t fade; it just shifted, turning patronizing. “Oh, speak of the devil. Need some help with your dishwasher project, little brother?”
Her friends went quiet, watching the show.
You stopped right next to her chair. You didn’t say anything for a moment, just let the silence stretch until it became uncomfortable. You saw a flicker of annoyance in her eyes. She hated being ignored.
“What?” she finally snapped. “Cat got your tongue? Or did your code finally short-circuit it?”
You leaned down, close enough that only she could hear. Your voice was a low, pleasant murmur. “You should be more careful about your volume, Noona. When you’re home alone, I mean.”
Her face went perfectly still. The smirk froze, then melted into confusion. “What are you talking about?”
“Tuesday afternoon,” you whispered, your breath stirring the hair by her ear. “Around three. You thought I was gone for hours. You must have been really desperate.”
The color drained from her face. Her knuckles, gripping her iced coffee, turned white. She looked from you to her friends, a forced, brittle laugh escaping her. “You’re being weird. Go away.”
You straightened up, your voice returning to a normal volume, conversational. “You know, I was reviewing some footage on my phone. For my dishwasher project. The audio quality is surprisingly good. You have a very… distinctive voice when you’re enthusiastic.”
Minjeong shot up from her chair so fast it screeched against the pavement. “Shut up.”
“Or what?” you asked, tilting your head. “You’ll tell Mom and Dad I’m bothering you? I wonder what they’d think of their perfect daughter’s solo performances. The way you chanted ‘fuck me, fuck me, harder’ into your pillow. The way you screamed when you came. It’s all right here.” You patted your pocket.
Her friends were staring now, bewildered. “Minjeong? What’s he talking about?”
“Nothing!” she barked, her composure cracking. She grabbed your arm, her nails digging in. “We need to talk. Now.”
She practically dragged you away from the table, around the corner of the humanities building, into a narrow, deserted alley between the brick wall and a row of dumpsters. The moment you were out of sight, she whirled on you.
“You fucking creep! You were spying on me?”
You shrugged, leaning against the cool brick. “The door was open. Sound carries. You shouldn’t leave your bedroom door open when you’re planning to finger-fuck your cunt until you scream, Noona.”
She flinched at the vulgarity, her eyes wide with a mix of rage and utter horror. “Delete it. Delete it right now.”
“No.”
“I’ll tell Dad you’re threatening me! I’ll—”
“You’ll do what?” you interrupted, your voice dropping back to that calm, deadly tone. “Tell him I have a video of his precious stepdaughter rubbing her wet little pussy raw while she moans like a whore in a cheap porn? Do you think he’ll be proud? Do you think he’ll keep funding your car, your designer bags, your monthly allowance once he knows what his little saint really does when she’s alone?”
Her bravado shattered. You saw it happen in real time. The fury in her eyes dissolved into fear, then a desperate, pleading panic. Her lower lip trembled. “You can’t.”
“I can. I will. Unless.”
“Unless what?” The question was a whisper.
You took a step forward, closing the distance. She didn’t back away. She was trapped. By the wall, by your body, by the truth in your pocket. You reached out and cupped her chin, forcing her to look at you. Her skin was soft, warm. She was breathing fast.
“You’ve made my life hell for two years, Noona. Mocking me. Belittling me. Acting like you’re fucking royalty.” Your thumb stroked her jawline. “Now, you’re going to make it up to me. Every time I want. Wherever I want. You’re going to be so fucking good to me.”
“What does that mean?” Her voice was shaky.
You didn’t answer with words. You leaned in and kissed her. It wasn’t gentle. It was a claim. Your mouth crashed against hers, forcing her lips apart. She made a muffled sound of protest, her hands coming up to push at your chest, but the fight was gone. It was just a weak, trembling pressure. You slid your tongue into her mouth, tasting her coffee and her fear. After a second of frozen resistance, her body went slack. A small, broken whimper vibrated in her throat. She was letting you. She was accepting it.
You broke the kiss, a string of saliva connecting your mouths for a second before it snapped. Her eyes were glazed, confused.
“That’s what it means,” you said. Your hand left her chin and slid down, over the soft cashmere of her sweater, down to the waistband of her tight jeans. You popped the button. The sound was obscenely loud in the quiet alley.
“No, not here…” she breathed, but it was a token protest. Her hands fell to her sides.
“Yes. Here.” You tugged the zipper down. “Right the fuck here. Where anyone could walk by. Where your friends might come looking for you.” You hooked your fingers into the band of her jeans and her lace panties, pulling them both down her hips in one rough motion. They caught on her thighs. The cool air of the alley washed over her exposed skin.
You turned her around, facing the brick wall. “Hands on the wall. Spread your legs.”
She obeyed. A shudder wracked her body as she placed her palms flat against the rough brick, leaning forward. Her perfect, round ass was now bare to you, the jeans and panties a tangled restraint around her thighs. You admired the view for a moment—the pale curves, the delicate pink folds of her pussy already glistening with a betraying wetness. She’s terrified, but she’s fucking turned on. The thought sent a jolt of pure power straight to your cock.
You unzipped your own jeans, freeing your erection. You were already painfully hard. You stepped up close behind her, the head of your cock nudging against her soaked entrance. You rubbed it through her slick folds, coating yourself in her.
“You’re already this wet for me, Noona?” you whispered into her ear. “You’re a fucking natural-born slut, aren’t you? All that attitude, just hiding a desperate little cunt that gets wet at the first sign of real authority.”
“Please…” she whimpered, the word muffled against her arm.
“Please what? Please fuck you? Like you begged into your pillow?” You positioned yourself. “You got it.”
You drove into her in one hard, deep thrust. There was no gentleness, no slow build. She was tight, a hot, clinging velvet vise around your cock, but her own wetness allowed you to sink to the hilt. A choked scream tore from her throat, echoing off the brick walls. Her back arched, her fingers scrabbled against the rough surface.
“Oh, fuck,” you groaned, the sensation blinding. You held still for a second, buried deep inside her, feeling her inner muscles flutter and clamp around you in shocked reflex. “God, you’re tight. You’ve been saving this cunt, haven’t you? Saving it for your own fingers. What a fucking waste.”
You pulled back almost all the way, then slammed back in. Then again. Setting a brutal, punishing rhythm. The slap of your hips against her ass, the wet, filthy sound of your cock plunging into her, filled the alley.
“You like that?” you grunted, each thrust punctuating your words. “You like your little brother’s cock ruining you in a dirty alley? You’re taking it so fucking good, Noona. Such a good little whore for me.”
Her moans were constant now, a high, keening sound she tried to stifle. Tears streaked her cheeks, but she was pushing back against you, meeting your thrusts. Her body was betraying her completely.
“Tell me,” you demanded, grabbing a handful of her hair and pulling her head back. “Tell me who owns this cunt now.”
“You do,” she sobbed, the words ripped from her. “You own it!”
“Damn right I do.” You fucked her harder, deeper. The pressure was building in your balls, a fierce, coiling heat. You thought about the video. You thought about her smug face. You thought about fucking her raw, fucking her so deep she’d feel it for days. “I’m gonna cum inside you, Minjeong. I’m gonna pump this tight little cunt full of my seed. You want that? You want me to breed you right here against this wall?”
The degradation, mixed with the crude, biological threat, broke something else in her. Her moan became a wail. “Yes! Fuck, yes, please! Breed me! Fill me up!”
Her consent, ragged and desperate, was the final trigger. You hammered into her with wild, uncontrolled thrusts, your vision blurring at the edges. With a raw, guttural shout, you buried yourself as deep as you could and came. Hot, pulsing ropes of your release shot deep into her core, spilling inside her with a claiming, primal finality. You held her there, impaled, as you emptied yourself, feeling your cum flooding her, dripping out around the base of your cock where you were still joined.
You stayed like that for a long minute, both of you panting, the only sounds your ragged breaths and the distant hum of campus life. Slowly, you softened and slipped out of her. A trickle of your combined fluids trailed down her inner thigh.
You zipped yourself up. She remained against the wall, trembling, her jeans still around her thighs, utterly exposed and used.
You leaned close again, your voice flat. “Clean yourself up. My room. Ten tonight. Don’t be late.”
You turned and walked out of the alley, leaving her there. You didn’t look back.
*
The house was quiet that night. Dad and your stepmom were out at some charity dinner. You sat on the edge of your bed, waiting. 9:58 PM.
At 10:02, your door opened silently. Minjeong slipped in, closing it behind her. She’d changed into a simple t-shirt and sweatpants. Her face was clean, expression carefully blank, but her eyes were red-rimmed.
She stood just inside the door, not meeting your gaze.
“Come here,” you said.
She walked over, stopping a few feet away.
“Closer.”
She took another step.
“On your knees.”
A tremor went through her, but she sank to her knees on your carpet, her head bowed. The submission was absolute, and it made your cock stir again.
“Look at me.”
She raised her eyes. The hatred was still there, simmering beneath a layer of shame and defeat.
“You know why you’re here.”
She nodded once.
“Say it.”
“To… to serve you,” she whispered.
“Louder.”
“To serve you!” The words were sharper, edged with resentment.
“Good.” You undid your sweatpants, letting them fall. Your cock, half-hard, swung free. “You know what to do with this. Show me how sorry you are for being a bitch.”
She stared at your cock for a long second. Then, with a shaky breath, she leaned forward. Her soft hands wrapped around the base. She hesitated, her lips an inch away.
“Do it, Noona. Or do I need to send that video to Dad’s phone right now?”
She flinched and opened her mouth. Her tongue darted out first, a timid, hot stripe along the underside of your shaft. Then she took the head into her mouth, her lips stretching around your girth.
“Fuck,” you hissed. The heat and wetness were incredible. She began to bob her head slowly, tentatively. Her technique was awkward, inexperienced. You let her struggle for a minute, watching her cheeks hollow, listening to the soft, wet sounds.
Then you grabbed a fistful of her hair. “Open wider, you stupid slut. You think this is a fucking lollipop?” You guided your cock deeper, past her initial resistance, until the head nudged the back of her throat. She gagged, her eyes watering. “Take it. You were born to suck cock, weren’t you? Such a pretty mouth, wasted on all those insults. Now it’s finally useful.”
You started to fuck her mouth, setting a pace, holding her head still as you thrust into the wet, tight cavern of her throat. Tears streamed down her face, but she didn’t pull away. Her hands clutched at your thighs. Spit dripped from her stretched lips, coating your cock, her chin, the front of her shirt.
“That’s it,” you groaned, your hips pistoning. “Such a good little cocksucker. My perfect, filthy stepsister. You love this, don’t you? You love having your throat stuffed full of my dick.”
She made a choked, gurgling sound of protest, but the vibration only made the sensation more intense. You felt the pressure building again, low and urgent.
“I’m gonna cum in your mouth,” you announced, your voice thick. “You’re gonna swallow every fucking drop. You understand? That’s what you are now. My personal cum dump.”
Her eyes flew open in panic, but you were already there. With a final, deep thrust that made her nose press into your pubic bone, you erupted. Hot, salty bursts flooded her mouth. She gagged violently, trying to pull back, but you held her firmly in place, pumping your release down her throat.
When you were finally spent, you released her hair. She collapsed forward, coughing, strings of saliva and your cum dripping from her lips onto the floor. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, her entire body shaking with ragged coughs and sobs.
You tucked your softening cock back into your sweatpants. You looked down at her, a ruined, beautiful mess at your feet.
“Get up.”
She staggered to her feet, avoiding your eyes.
“Strip. All of it.”
Fresh tears welled, but she obeyed. She pulled her t-shirt over her head, revealing her small, pert breasts. She pushed her sweatpants and panties down, stepping out of them, standing naked and vulnerable in the middle of your room.
“On the bed. On your back. Legs spread.”
She moved like an automaton, lying down on your comforter, her legs falling open, exposing everything. The glistening pink of her pussy, still slightly swollen from your earlier use.
You climbed onto the bed, kneeling between her spread thighs. You didn’t touch her yet. You just looked.
“I own this,” you said, pointing at her cunt. “I own this mouth.” You pointed to her lips. “I own every fucking inch of you. And tonight, I’m going to fuck a baby into you.”
Her breath caught in a sharp inhale. “W-what?”
“You heard me. I’m not pulling out. Not tonight. Maybe not ever.” You leaned over her, bracing your hands on either side of her head. “You’re going to take my cock, and you’re going to take my cum, and you’re going to pray it takes root. Because if you get pregnant, Noona, that’s it. You’re mine forever. No one will believe it wasn’t consensual. You’ll just be the slutty stepsister who couldn’t keep her legs closed. And you’ll do anything I say to keep your little secret.”
The terror in her eyes was a living thing. But beneath it, in the frantic pulse at her throat, in the way her nipples hardened into tight peaks, was that same, fucked-up arousal.
“Please…” she begged, but the meaning was unclear. Please stop? Please do it?
You didn’t ask for clarification. You lowered yourself onto her, the head of your cock finding her entrance once more. You pushed inside, and she was still loose, still wet from the alley and her own fear. You slid in to the hilt in one smooth, deep stroke.
She cried out, her nails digging into your shoulders.
You began to move, a slower, more deliberate rhythm than in the alley. A breeding rhythm. Deep, grinding thrusts designed to lodge your seed as high inside her as it could go.
“This cunt feels even better used,” you moaned into her ear. “So soft and welcoming now. It knows its purpose. To get filled. To get bred.”
You fucked her like that for what felt like hours, in that quiet, dark room. The only sounds were the creak of the bed, the wet slap of skin on skin, and her broken, Cires filled the entire room.
Her cries filled the entire room, a raw, broken symphony that only fueled the relentless drive of your hips. You kept that deep, grinding pace, your cock a thick, unforgiving piston inside her. Each thrust was a promise, a threat, a biological imperative.
“You feel that, Noona?” you growled, your voice rough against the shell of her ear. “You feel how deep I’m planted in this cunt? My cum’s already swimming inside you. Looking for the right spot. Looking to make a fucking baby in your slutty little womb.”
“No, no, no…” she chanted, but her legs were locked around your waist, her heels digging into the small of your back, pulling you deeper.
“Your body says yes,” you grunted, snapping your hips forward hard, making her gasp. “This tight, greedy hole is sucking me in. It wants it. It wants to be bred. You’re just too much of a coward to admit it.”
You shifted your weight, pulling almost all the way out until just the tip remained, teasing her swollen entrance. She whimpered, a sound of pure, desperate need. “Please…”
“Please what?” You rubbed the head through her slick folds, circling her clit. “Use your words, Minjeong. Tell me what this cunt needs.”
“I need… I need you to fuck it.” The admission was torn from her, soaked in shame. “I need you to fuck your cum deeper into me.”
“Good girl,” you purred, the praise like a slap. You plunged back in, a single, devastating stroke that stole her breath. “Such a good, honest little broodmare. Now take it. Take every fucking inch.”
You fucked her with a renewed, brutal intensity. The bedframe slammed against the wall in a steady, rhythmic bang. Her tits bounced with each impact, her nipples hard, dark peaks begging for attention. You leaned down and took one in your mouth, sucking hard, biting the stiff bud. She screamed, her back arching off the bed.
“Yes! God, yes!”
“You like that, you fucking hypocrite?” you snarled, switching to her other breast. “All that purity, all that superiority, and you’re just a set of holes begging to be used and filled. Look at you. My cock is stretching this perfect pussy wide open, and you’re crying for more.”
You could feel the pressure coiling again, a tight, electric knot in your balls and lower spine. Her inner muscles were fluttering, clenching around you in erratic spasms. She was close.
“I’m gonna cum again,” you announced, your thrusts becoming ragged, losing their rhythm. “I’m gonna flood this womb. You gonna come with me, Noona? You gonna squeeze my cock dry while I pump a baby into you?”
“I’m—I’m gonna…” Her words dissolved into a sharp, shattered cry. Her body locked up, rigid beneath you. Her cunt convulsed around your shaft, a series of violent, milking pulses that ripped a guttural roar from your throat.
The sensation tore your control apart. You buried yourself to the root, your pelvis grinding against her clit as you erupted. Another hot, thick flood of your release jetted into her depths, mixing with the first, spilling out around the stretched seal of your cock where you were joined. You pulsed inside her for what felt like an eternity, each throb wringing another shudder from her oversensitive body.
Finally, spent, you collapsed on top of her, your weight pinning her to the mattress. Both of you were slick with sweat, breathing in ragged, synced gasps. The room smelled of sex, of musk, and of her expensive, ruined perfume.
You stayed there for long minutes, still embedded inside her, feeling the occasional aftershock ripple through her cunt. You finally rolled off, pulling out with a soft, wet sound. A gush of your cum followed, leaking onto your sheets. You didn’t care.
She lay motionless, staring at the ceiling, tears tracing clean lines through the sweat on her temples.
You sat up on the edge of the bed, your back to her. “Get a towel. Clean yourself up. Then clean my cock.”
She didn’t move.
“Now, Minjeong.”
A fresh sob escaped her, but she pushed herself up, her movements slow and pained. She walked naked to your connected bathroom, her gait slightly unsteady. You heard the faucet run. She returned with a damp, warm washcloth. She stood before you, avoiding your eyes, and began to gently wipe the mixed fluids from your softening cock. Her touch was clinical, detached.
When she was done, you pointed to the wet spot on the bed. “Clean that too.”
She used the other side of the cloth to dab pathetically at the stain.
“Forget it,” you said, standing. “Tomorrow. You’ll wash the sheets. You’ll do my laundry. You’ll clean my room. That’s part of it now.”
She just nodded, the cloth dangling from her hand.
“Look at me.”
She lifted her gaze. The hatred was still there, but it was duller, buried under layers of exhaustion and utter defeat.
“You did good tonight,” you said, your voice flat. “Your cunt took my cock like it was made for it. Your mouth, too. We’ll work on your throat.” You reached out and cupped her cheek. She flinched but didn’t pull away. “This is your life now. You understand? No more jokes. No more sneers. You see me on campus, you walk the other way unless I call for you. You’re my secret. My dirty, fucking perfect secret.”
“What… what do you want from me?” Her voice was a hoarse whisper.
“Everything,” you said simply. “I want to use that tight body whenever I get hard. I want to fuck you in your own bed while Mom and Dad are asleep downstairs. I want to bend you over my desk. I want to wake you up with my cock in your mouth.” You leaned in, your lips almost touching hers. “And I want to see if this fertile little cunt can do what it’s built for. I want to watch your stomach swell with my child. I want to ruin you so completely, there’s no piece of you left that isn’t mine.”
A full-body tremor shook her. You saw the conflict warring in her eyes—terror, revulsion, and that fucking traitorous spark of dark, twisted excitement.
“Now get out,” you said, turning away. “I’m tired. I’ll text you when I want you again.”
She stood there for a moment, naked and shivering. Then, silently, she gathered her clothes from the floor and slipped out of your room, closing the door with a soft, final click.
The text came three days later, just after your last afternoon class.
My car. South lot. Now.
You found her black coupe parked in the farthest, most secluded corner of the student lot, shielded by a row of thick evergreens. You slid into the passenger seat. The engine was running, the heater blowing lukewarm air.
Minjeong was gripping the steering wheel, her knuckles white. She was wearing a cream-colored sweater dress that hugged her curves, knee-high boots. She looked beautiful and tense.
“Drive,” you said.
“Where?”
“Just drive. Out of the city. Find somewhere quiet.”
She put the car in gear and pulled out. Neither of you spoke for twenty minutes, until the buildings thinned and were replaced by wooded hillsides. The tension in the car was thick enough to taste.
“Pull over there,” you said, pointing to a narrow, unpaved forestry service road that disappeared into the trees.
“That’s not—”
“Pull over, Noona.”
She jerked the wheel, the car bumping onto the gravel. She drove until the main road was out of sight, surrounded by nothing but silent, skeletal winter trees. She put the car in park. The engine ticked softly.
“In the back,” you commanded.
A broken sound escaped her lips. “Here? It’s daylight. Someone could—”
“No one is here.” You unclipped your seatbelt. “Get in the back. Now. On your knees.”
The fight was shorter this time. A single, defeated slump of her shoulders. She climbed awkwardly between the seats into the small back of her coupe. You followed, the space cramped, intimate.
“That dress always looked so fucking innocent on you,” you said, kneeling behind her as she knelt on the floor mats, facing the seat. You gathered the soft material in your hands and shoved it up around her waist, exposing her bare ass. She wasn’t wearing panties. “You came prepared. You knew what today was, didn’t you?”
“Fuck you,” she whispered, but it lacked conviction.
You ran a hand over the cool, smooth skin of her ass. “You want my cock in this ass today, Minjeong? You want me to ruin this tight little hole?”
Her whole body went rigid. “No. Please. Not there.”
“Why not? You give me this perfect, round ass, wiggling it in my face for years, and you think I don’t want to fuck it?” You spit into your palm, then rubbed the wetness over her puckered entrance. She gasped at the contact. “Your cunt’s getting all the attention. Your asshole looks jealous.”
“It’ll hurt,” she pleaded, her forehead pressed against the leather seat.
“It’ll hurt so fucking good,” you corrected. You unzipped your jeans, freeing your already hard cock. You’d been thinking about this all day. You pressed the broad head against her back door, applying steady pressure. “Relax. Take a deep breath and push out for me.”
“I can’t…”
“You can. Or I drive us home and play that video for Dad on the big-screen TV the second he walks in. Your choice, Noona. Be my good little anal slut, or be the campus masturbation star.”
A ragged, shuddering breath. Then, you felt the tiny ring of muscle give way, just a little, under your insistence. It was unbelievably tight, a scorching, silken vise.
“That’s it… fuck, that’s it,” you groaned, pushing forward another inch, stretching her open. Her cry was muffled by the seat. “You’re taking it. You’re taking my cock in your virgin ass. God, you’re tight. Like a fucking fist.”
You pushed deeper, slowly, feeling every millimeter of her resistance give way. When you were fully seated, balls-deep in her ass, you both stopped, panting. She was trembling violently, full-body shudders that clenched around your shaft in waves.
“Move,” she sobbed. “Just… move.”
You pulled back slowly, then pushed back in. The friction was incredible, a dry, searing heat that made your vision blur. You set a slow, deep rhythm, each thrust a deliberate conquest. The vulgar, squelching sound of spit and tightness filled the small space.
“You like that, you ass-loving whore?” you grunted, one hand fisted in her hair, the other gripping her hip hard enough to bruise. “You like having your shitter stuffed full of your little brother’s dick?”
“I hate it,” she cried, but her hips were pushing back, meeting your thrusts. “I hate you!”
“Your body doesn’t hate it,” you snarled, picking up the pace. The car began to rock gently on its suspension. “Feel how your ass is sucking me in? It’s hugging my cock. It doesn’t want to let go.” You slid a hand around her hip, down between her legs. Her cunt was soaked, dripping. You shoved two fingers inside her, fucking her with them in time with your thrusts into her ass. “And this greedy pussy is jealous. It’s dripping because it wants to be filled, too. You’re a fucking two-hole slut, Minjeong. Born for it.”
The dual sensation, the crude, filthy words, broke her. A guttural, animal noise tore from her throat. Her ass clamped down on you like a vise, her cunt pulsing around your fingers. She came, hard, her body seizing, her screams echoing in the confined space.
The convulsions of her ass around your cock tipped you over the edge. With a final, brutal slam, you buried yourself and came, pumping your release deep into her bowels. You held there, spurting, until you were utterly empty.
You pulled out, both of you gasping. She collapsed sideways onto the seat, a boneless, used heap. You tucked yourself away, looking down at her. Her asshole was red, puffy, glistening with spit and your cum.
“Clean up,” you said, your voice hoarse. “We’re going to be late for dinner.”
She just lay there, breathing hard.
You grabbed her hair, not gently. “I said, clean up. Use your dress.”
Eyes wide with fresh humiliation, she pulled the hem of her beautiful cream sweater dress up and wiped messily between her legs, then dabbed at her ruined ass. The fabric was stained.
“Good,” you said. You climbed back into the front passenger seat. “Now drive.”
She hauled herself into the driver’s seat, moving like an old woman. She didn’t look at you. She just started the car and pulled back onto the road, the stained dress rucked up around her thighs.
You leaned back, a smile touching your lips. “You know, Noona… I think next time, I want to fuck that ass in your room. While you’re on the phone with Mom. Let’s see if you can keep your voice steady while I’m tearing your asshole. Gaping it with my Thick Cock.
The front door slammed shut, the sound echoing through the quiet, empty house. Your hand was locked around Minjeong’s wrist, a vise-like grip that brooked no argument. She stumbled after you, a muffled protest dying in her throat as you half-dragged, half-marched her down the hall toward your room.
“W-wait—”
You didn’t. You shoved the door open, propelled her inside, and kicked it shut behind you. The afternoon light filtered through the blinds, cutting the room into bars of gold and shadow. She staggered, catching her balance against your desk, her breathing already coming in sharp, fearful bursts.
“Strip,” you said. The word was flat, a command.
Her eyes, wide and defiant for a fleeting second, dropped. Her shoulders slumped. The fight, what little remained, leaked out of her. Her fingers, trembling, went to the buttons of her blouse. She fumbled the first one.
“Too slow.” You stepped forward, your own hands closing on the fabric at her collar. You didn’t bother with the buttons. You simply pulled, hard. The thin material ripped with a sound like tearing parchment, buttons pinging off the floor. She gasped, her arms instinctively crossing over her exposed bra—a lacy, expensive-looking thing that did nothing to hide the shape of her tits.
“Arms down,” you growled.
She obeyed, letting her hands fall to her sides. You made quick work of her skirt, unsnapping it and letting it pool at her feet. Then her bra, then her panties. Within seconds, she stood naked in the middle of your room, hugging herself, her skin pebbling in the cool air. Her body was a map of your ownership—a faint bruise on her hip from the car, the lingering redness you knew was between her legs.
You didn’t undress. You just unzipped your jeans, freeing your cock. It was already hard, thick and heavy in your hand. You stepped toward her, and she took an involuntary step back, her calves hitting the edge of your bed.
“On the bed,” you said. “On your back. Head hanging off the side.”
She understood. Her face, already pale, went ashen. “No. Not like that. I can’t—”
“You can.” You advanced, crowding her until the back of her knees buckled and she sat heavily on the mattress. “You will. Or that video goes to Dad in the next sixty seconds. Your choice, Noona. Be my good little throat whore, or be the family embarrassment.”
A tear traced a hot path down her cheek. She hated crying in front of you. It was the ultimate defeat. She laid back, scooting until her head tipped over the edge, her long hair brushing the floor. The position exposed the pale, vulnerable column of her throat. Her tits pointed upward, nipples tight with fear and chill. Her legs dangled off the side of the bed, bent at the knees.
You stood over her, looking down at her upside-down face. Her eyes were squeezed shut. “Open your eyes. Look at me.”
She forced them open. The world was inverted for her. Your face, your cock, all looming above.
“Open your mouth.”
Her lips parted, a sliver of pink. You tapped the head of your cock against them. “Wider. You know the drill. Let’s see if you’ve learned anything.”
She opened wider, a dark, inviting hole. You pushed forward, not slowly, not gently. The broad crown of your cock pushed past her lips, stretching them. She made a gagging sound immediately, her hands flying up to grasp your thighs.
You slapped them away. “Hands on the bed. Or behind your head. Don’t fucking touch me unless I say so.”
Her hands fell back, fingers clawing at the comforter. You pushed deeper, feeling the head bump against the back of her tongue, then press into her tight throat. Her body stiffened, a choked, wet gag tearing from her. Her neck worked frantically.
“Relax,” you said, your voice detached, almost conversational. “Swallow. Try to swallow me down, you stupid cunt.”
You pushed further. The resistance was intense, a hot, muscular clenching around the tip of your cock. You felt her panic, the frantic flutter of her swallow reflex. Pre-cum leaked from your slit, a salty precursor that coated her throat. You saw her Adam’s apple bob as she tried to comply, tried to take you.
“That’s it,” you murmured, watching the stretch of her lips around your girth. “Taste that? That’s my fucking pre-cum. That’s the taste of your brother. Get used to it. It’s gonna be on your tongue, in your stomach, for the rest of your life.”
You pulled back, just an inch, then shoved forward again, a little deeper this time. A strangled scream vibrated around your shaft. Tears streamed from the corners of her eyes, running down her temples into her hairline. Spit dripped from the stretched corners of her mouth.
“You’re so fucking pretty like this,” you said, beginning a slow, shallow rhythm, fucking her mouth in short, insistent thrusts. “All that makeup, that perfect hair… for what? To look pretty while you choke on my dick? You were born for this, Minjeong. I knew it the first time I heard you moaning into your pillow. You weren’t dreaming of some prince. You were dreaming of a cock to ruin you. This cock.”
You increased the pressure, pushing until your pubic bone met her nose. You were fully sheathed in her throat. Her body convulsed, her legs kicking weakly. You held there for a long, torturous moment, feeling her struggle to breathe, feeling the incredible, tight heat of her throat spasming around you.
“Breathe through your nose,” you instructed coolly. “You have to breathe, Noona. Or you’ll pass out, and I’ll just keep fucking your unconscious face. Would you like that? To wake up with my cum dripping out of your slack mouth?”
You pulled all the way out. She dragged in a huge, ragged, wheezing breath, coughing violently, strings of saliva and pre-cum connecting your cock to her bruised lips.
“Fuck… noona,” you groaned, watching her struggle. “You’re such a cumslut. Look at you. Gagging for air, and your eyes are already glazing over. You’re getting off on this, aren’t you? This degradation. This is what you really want.”
“I d-don’t…” she croaked, her voice wrecked.
“You do.” You lined yourself up again. “Your cunt is dripping right now. I can smell it. That’s your real voice, Minjeong. Not the bitchy one you use on campus. This wet, hungry cunt is your truth.”
You plunged back in, deeper, faster this time. You set a ruthless pace, your hips pistoning, fucking her throat in a steady, brutal rhythm. The sounds were obscene—wet, guttural gags, the slap of your balls against her chin, her frantic, nasal breaths. Her hands were fists in the comforter, her knuckles white. Her body trembled with the strain.
“You take it so fucking good,” you grunted, your own breathing starting to labour. “Such a perfect little throat. Made for cock. My cock. I’m gonna cum right down this tight little pipe. I’m gonna feed you. You’re gonna swallow every drop, and you’re gonna thank me for it.”
Her answering sound was a weak, desperate moan that traveled the length of your shaft. It was the sound of breaking. Of surrender. Her throat seemed to open, to relax, to actively suck you in. The resistance melted into a slick, hot, willing cavern.
The change was instantaneous. The fight was gone, replaced by a shocking, depraved compliance. Her tongue moved, licking along the underside of your cock as you fucked in and out. Her lips sealed tighter, creating a perfect vacuum.
“Oh, fuck,” you gasped, the sensation skyrocketing. “That’s it. That’s my girl. You finally get it. This is your place. This is your purpose.”
You let go of the control, fucking her throat with abandon, your vision spotting at the edges. The pressure built, a tight, electric coil in your balls, a tingling up your spine. You gripped the headboard for leverage, driving into her with deep, grinding strokes that made her whole body shake.
“I’m gonna cum! You ready? You ready for your meal, you hungry fucking whore?”
A garbled, affirmative sound vibrated around you. Her eyes, streaming tears, were locked on yours. They held a plea, but not to stop. A plea for more. For the final, claiming degradation.
With a roar that was part triumph, part release, you slammed home and let go. Hot, pulsing ropes of your cum shot directly down her throat. You felt the convulsive swallow as she tried to take it, the muscle working frantically to obey. You kept pumping, jet after jet, flooding her, marking her from the inside. A few stray spurts escaped her stretched lips, dripping down her cheeks and onto the floor.
When you were finally spent, you pulled out slowly. She coughed again, a wet, messy sound, but her mouth remained open, waiting. A trickle of white leaked from the corner. She was a masterpiece of ruin.
You looked down at her, your cock softening, glistening with her spit and your release. Her chest heaved. She looked dazed, utterly hollowed out.
“Clean it,” you said, tapping your cock against her lips.
Without hesitation, her tongue snaked out, licking the remaining spend from the slit, then tracing the length to the base, cleaning you with a diligence that was both horrifying and unbelievably hot. She took you into her mouth one last time, a soft, sucking pull to get every last drop.
You stepped back, tucking yourself away. She lay there, head still hanging, staring at the ceiling upside down, catching her breath.
“Get up.”
She moved slowly, awkwardly, pushing herself upright. She swayed on the edge of the bed, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Her lips were swollen, red. Her throat would be sore for days.
You walked to your desk and picked up your phone. You opened the gallery, found the video, and held it up so she could see the thumbnail—her, on her bed, lost in her own pleasure. Her face crumpled.
“This stays with me,” you said, your voice low. “As long as you remember your place. As long as you come when I call. As long as you offer that mouth, that cunt, that ass, whenever I want them.” You paused. “And you’re going to start offering, Minjeong. You’re not just going to take it. You’re going to beg for it.”
She shook her head, a tiny, broken movement. “I won’t.”
“You will.” You put the phone down. “Because part of you already does. Part of you is screaming for it right now. The part that got wet while I was choking you on my dick. The part that came in the car when I was tearing your ass open.” You leaned close, your face inches from hers. “I own that part of you. And I’m going to make it bigger. I’m going to feed it until it’s all that’s left.”
You straightened up. “Now, get on the bed properly. On your hands and knees.”
She blinked, fresh terror in her eyes. “Again? You just… you just…”
“I just came in your throat. Now I want to fuck your cunt. I want to feel how wet all that throat-fucking made you. I want to see if I can make you come just from thinking about how you swallowed my load.”
She didn’t move. You saw the calculation in her eyes—the exhausting cost of resistance versus the shameful ease of submission.
It was no contest.
She turned, crawling onto the center of the bed, presenting herself to you on all fours. The view was impeccable. Her round ass, the pink, swollen lips of her pussy, already gleaming with her arousal. You stripped your clothes off, your cock, semi-hard again, twitching with interest.
You knelt behind her, running a hand over the curve of her ass. She flinched.
“Tell me you want it,” you said, your fingers trailing through her wetness, gathering it, rubbing it over her entrance.
She was silent.
You pinched the inside of her thigh, hard. She yelped. “Tell me.”
“I… I want it,” she whispered.
“Louder.”
“I want it!” The words were sharp, edged with self-loathing.
“You want what?”
She took a shuddering breath. “I want your cock. In my cunt.”
“Good girl.” You positioned yourself, the head nudging against her. “Now ask for it like you mean it. Like the desperate, cock-starved stepsister you are.”
The humiliation was a living thing in the room. You could feel her trembling with it. When she spoke, her voice was thick, clogged with tears and desire. “Please… please fuck me. Please put your cock in my cunt. I need it. I’m so empty. I need you to fill me.”
The raw need in her voice, so different from her usual sneer, was more intoxicating than any drug. You pushed inside her in one smooth, deep stroke. She was soaked, loose from earlier use, but still so incredibly tight. She cried out, a sound of pure, unadulterated sensation.
“Fuck,” you groaned, sinking to the hilt, your balls pressing against her. “You’re so fucking wet. Dripping. All from having your throat used. You’re a fucking miracle of perversion, Noona.”
You began to move, a deep, rolling rhythm that emphasized every inch of your penetration. Your hands gripped her hips, holding her steady as you drove into her. The slap of skin on skin filled the room, a lewd metronome.
“Whose cunt is this?” you demanded, picking up the pace.
“Yours!” she gasped, pushing back against you.
“And whose womb am I gonna fill?”
“Yours! Yours!”
“Damn right.” You leaned over her back, your chest pressed against her spine, your mouth at her ear. “I’m gonna fuck a baby so deep into you, Minjeong. I’m gonna knock you up, and you’re gonna carry it, and everyone will see. They’ll see your belly grow with my child, and they’ll have no idea the perfect, bitchy Minjeong is just a bred sow for her little brother.”
The filthy promise, the graphic biological threat, sent a violent shiver through her. Her inner muscles clenched around you in a sudden, fierce spasm. “Oh, God…”
“You like that idea?” you grunted, fucking her harder, your thrusts becoming shorter, more urgent. “You like the thought of being my pregnant little slut? Walking around campus, feeling my kid kick inside you, knowing your tits are full of milk for me?”
“Yes! Fuck, yes!” Her confession was a wail, torn from some deep, shameful place she could no longer hide. Her orgasm hit her, buckling her arms. She collapsed onto her elbows, her face buried in the comforter as her body was racked with convulsions. Her cunt milked your cock in frantic, fluttering pulses.
It was too much. The visual, the feeling, the power. With a final, deep grind, you erupted inside her again, pumping another thick load into her already-claimed depths. You held there, pulsing, as she whimpered beneath you, oversensitive and utterly broken.
You stayed joined for a long minute, both of you breathing hard. Then you pulled out. The evidence of your possession spilled out of her immediately, a creamy rivulet running down her inner thigh.
You collapsed onto the bed beside her. She didn’t move, her face still hidden.
The silence stretched. The only sound was the clock on your wall ticking away the seconds of her new life.
Finally, you spoke, your voice rough but calm. “Roll over.”
She did, slowly, onto her back. She stared at the ceiling, her expression blank, emptied out.
You propped yourself up on an elbow, looking down at her. You traced a finger from her collarbone, over the swell of her breast, circling her nipple. “You did good. Your throat… it’s learning. And your cunt…” you slid your finger down her stomach, through the mess between her legs, “your cunt is perfect. It was made to take my seed.”
She turned her head to look at you. The hatred was there, but it was distant, blurred by exhaustion and something else—a terrifying, dawning acceptance. “Is it… is it enough?” she asked, her voice a raw scrape. “For today?”
You smiled. It wasn't a nice smile. “Almost.” You moved your hand, your fingers finding her asshole, still slightly loose from the forest. You pressed a fingertip against the tight ring. She stiffened. “I think we should try something new. I think I want to fuck this ass again. But this time… I want you to look at me while I do it. I want you to tell me you love it.
The silence after your threat hung thick as a physical weight. Minjeong’s eyes, still glazed from her orgasm, widened just a fraction. The “no” was there, trembling on her lips, but it never came. It couldn’t. You saw the conflict warring in her—the last embers of her old self screaming against the cold, wet reality of the cunt you’d just filled.
“Look at you,” you said, your voice a low rumble. “You can’t even pretend to hate it anymore, can you? Your body’s already saying yes. This greedy little hole,” you pressed your finger deeper against her ass, making her jolt, “is already clenching, begging for it. But not yet.”
You withdrew your hand and sat up. The room felt charged, the air still humming with the scent of sex and sweat. You swung your legs off the bed and walked to your closet. You knew exactly what you were looking for. From a box on the top shelf, you pulled out two long, soft silk scarves you’d… acquired. You’d bought them for this, weeks ago, fantasizing about this exact moment.
You turned back to the bed. Minjeong hadn’t moved. She lay sprawled on her back, a canvas of used flesh, watching you with the hollow, resigned eyes of a prisoner.
“Scoot up,” you commanded. “To the headboard.”
She pushed herself up the mattress, movements sluggish. When her head was near the wooden slats of the headboard, you knelt beside her.
“Wrists.”
She held them out, a small, pathetic gesture of surrender. You took her left wrist first, looping the deep blue silk around it twice, knotting it firmly but not cruelly to the vertical post. The fabric was cool and smooth against her skin. You did the same with her right wrist, pulling her arms wide, leaving her chest exposed, vulnerable. Her breathing hitched—no, faltered—as the restraint settled.
“Now the ankles.” The second scarf, a blood red, you used on her legs. You tied each ankle to a corresponding bedpost at the foot of the bed, spreading her wide open. Completely exposed. Utterly helpless.
She was spread-eagled before you, a feast presented for your consumption. Every part of her was on display: the sweat-sheened valley between her breasts, the gentle curve of her stomach, the tangled, wet thatch of hair between her legs, and the pink, swollen lips of her pussy, still dripping your cum onto the sheets beneath her. Her asshole, the tight, dark star you’d promised to violate again, was visible too.
You stood at the foot of the bed, admiring your work. The visual was perfect. Power, hot and dark, coiled in your gut.
“Beautiful,” you murmured, and the word wasn’t gentle. It was possessive. “You were always beautiful, Noona. But like this? Tied up and waiting for me? This is how you were meant to be seen.”
You left the room for a moment, going to the bathroom. You returned with the object in your hand: a sleek, black vibrator. It wasn’t huge, but it was powerful, with a broad, flat tip perfect for clitoral stimulation. You clicked it on. A low, insistent hum filled the room.
Minjeong’s eyes locked onto it. A fresh tremor went through her bound form.
You crawled onto the bed, settling between her splayed thighs. You ran the flat, buzzing head of the toy up her inner thigh, not touching her core yet. The vibration traveled through her muscle, a teasing promise.
“You see,” you said, your voice conversational, almost clinical, “you’ve been a very bad sister. A nasty, fucking bitch. And bad girls need to be taught a lesson. They need to learn their place. And sometimes, the best way to teach them… is to break them.”
You brought the vibrator to her cunt, but you didn’t press it inside. You rested it against her outer lips, letting the powerful buzz resonate through her swollen, sensitive flesh.
She gasped, her back arching off the bed. “Ah—!”
“Shhh,” you soothed, a cruel parody of comfort. “This is just the beginning. We’re going to play a game, Noona. I’m going to make you feel so good, you’ll forget your own name. And then, just when you’re about to come, when you’re begging for it… I’m going to stop. Again and again. Until you understand what you are.”
You began to trace slow, deliberate circles around her clit with the buzzing head. Not directly on it. Around it. Teasing the hyper-sensitive nerves without giving her the full pressure she craved.
“Oh, fuck,” she whimpered, her head thrashing side to side on the pillow. Her hips tried to buck, to chase the sensation, but the restraints held her fast. She was completely at the mercy of your hand, of the toy. “Please…”
“Please what?” you asked, your tone light. You moved the vibrator down, tracing her soaking slit, gathering her wetness, spreading it. The sound was obscenely loud. “Use your words. What does this perfect, greedy cunt want?”
“It… it wants…” she panted, the words fighting through the haze of building pleasure. “The… the toy. On my… my clit. Please.”
“But you haven’t earned it yet,” you chided. You pressed the vibrator firmly against her entrance, letting it buzz there, the sensation radiating deep inside her without penetration. Her whole body jerked against the scarves. “Look at you. Dripping. Soaking my sheets. And for what? A little buzzing? You’re such a cheap, easy slut.”
You removed the toy entirely. The sudden absence of sensation made her cry out, a sound of pure loss.
“No! Don’t stop!”
“I’ll stop whenever I want,” you said coldly. You watched her cunt pulse, empty and desperate. “This isn’t about your pleasure. It’s about my control. Watch.”
You reached down with your other hand, your fingers sliding easily through her slick folds. You found her clit, hard and throbbing like a tiny heartbeat. You pinched it, not hard, but enough to make her yelp.
“See? I can give you pain, or I can give you pleasure. Or,” you brought the vibrator back, this time placing the broad side directly over her clit and pressing down, “I can give you this.”
The effect was instantaneous.
Her scream was muffled by the pillow she twisted her head into. Her body bowed off the mattress, held only by the points where she was tied. A violent, convulsive shudder racked her from head to toe. The buzz was clearly intense, overwhelming.
“Yes! Fuck, yes!” she screamed, the words torn from her.
You held it there, watching her unravel. Her thighs trembled. Her toes curled. Her knuckles were white where she gripped the air, her hands bound. You saw the orgasm building in the tight coil of her stomach, in the frantic flutter of her cunt muscles.
Just as her breathing became ragged, just as her moans climbed to a shattered peak, you pulled the vibrator away.
She shattered, but not with climax. With denial.
A sob of pure, animal frustration ripped from her throat. “No! No, no, no! You can’t! I was so close! Please!”
“You were,” you agreed calmly. You turned the vibrator off. The sudden silence was louder than the buzz had been. “But I said no. My rules. Now…” You positioned yourself between her legs, your cock, hard and aching again, nudging at her soaked entrance. “I think I want to feel you. I want to be inside this desperate, weeping cunt while I play with you.”
You pushed into her in one long, slow stroke. She was so wet, so hot, so ready. She gasped, her inner walls clenching around you in a desperate, welcoming spasm.
“Oh, god, yes,” she moaned, the penetration offering a different, deeper fullness.
You began to fuck her, a deep, measured pace. At the same time, you turned the vibrator back on, setting it to a lower, more insistent setting. You brought it back to her clit, but you just held it nearby, letting the vibrations almost touch her.
“You feel that?” you grunted, driving into her. “You feel how badly your body wants to come? How this tight little cunt is squeezing my cock, trying to milk an orgasm out of me? It won’t work. You don’t come until I say. You don’t get to feel that relief until I’ve decided you’ve earned it.”
You increased the pace of your thrusts, fucking her with a hard, piston-like rhythm that made the bed frame creak. The slap of your skin against hers was a brutal counterpoint to the soft, maddening hum of the toy. You brought the vibrator closer, letting it just barely graze her swollen nub with each downward thrust of your hips.
The sensation was exquisite torture for her. The deep, filling stretch of your cock, combined with the teasing, electric buzz just at the edge of her most sensitive point. She was babbling, a stream of incoherent pleas and curses.
“Please… please, I can’t… it’s too much… don’t stop… fuck me, fuck me, please let me come… I’ll do anything…”
“What will you do?” you demanded, your own control starting to fray at the edges. The feeling of her cunt, the sight of her completely bound and begging, was pushing you to your limit.
“Anything! Anything! I’ll be your slut, your whore, I’ll suck your cock whenever you want, I’ll let you fuck my ass, just please let me come! I need it! I need to come so bad it hurts!”
Her words were a broken record of need. Her eyes were unfocused, seeing nothing but the pleasure-pain you were orchestrating. This was it. The mindbreak. The crumbling of the last wall.
You pressed the vibrator firmly against her clit.
She screamed, a raw, ragged sound that tore at her throat. Her orgasm exploded through her, violent and all-consuming. Her body convulsed against the restraints, her cunt clamping down on your cock in rhythmic, milking waves that threatened to pull your own release from you. You kept the vibrator pressed hard, kept fucking her through it, extending the waves of pleasure into something that bordered on agony.
“That’s it,” you growled, pistoning into her. “Come all over my cock, you filthy bitch. Let it all out. Show me how much of a slut you really are.”
Her cries dissolved into sobs. Great, heaving sobs that shook her entire frame. The orgasm seemed to have unlocked a floodgate. The pride, the arrogance, the bitchy facade—it all washed away in the tidal wave of forced, overwhelming sensation.
You pulled the vibrator away and turned it off. You kept fucking her, your own climax roaring up your spine. But you wanted more. You needed the final surrender.
Her sobs subsided into shaky, hitching breaths. She was utterly spent, a limp, wet doll tied to your bed. But her eyes, when they found yours, held a terrifying emptiness. A void where Minjeong used to be.
You slowed your thrusts, but didn’t stop. You leaned over her, your face inches from hers. “Who do you belong to?”
Her voice was a ghost of a sound, scraped raw. “You.”
“What are you?”
A tear traced a clean path through the sweat on her temple. “Your slut.”
“And what is this cunt for?” You punctuated the question with a deep, grinding thrust.
“For you,” she whispered. Then, louder, the words gaining a frantic, desperate energy. “For your cock. For your cum. It’s yours. It’s always been yours. Please… please ruin it. Please fuck it up. Make it so only you can use it. Breed it.”
The words hung in the air. The final, complete submission. The invitation you’d been waiting for.
“You want me to breed you?” you asked, your voice thick with lust. “You want me to knock you up? To put a baby in this ruined, used-up cunt?”
“Yes!” The word was a shriek. “Yes! Fuck me up! Fill me with it! Pump your seed so deep into me it takes root! I want it! I want to be your pregnant whore! I want everyone to see what you did to me! Please!”
It was the most beautiful, fucked-up thing you’d ever heard. The mindbreak was complete. The bitch was dead. In her place was this… this creature of pure, desperate need. Your creature.
You lost all control. With a guttural roar that came from the very base of your being, you slammed into her, fucking her with a frantic, brutal abandon. The bed rocked violently. You were no longer making love, or even fucking. You were claiming. Marking. Breeding.
“Take it!” you snarled, your vision going white at the edges. “Take my fucking cum, you bitch! Take every drop! This is what you are now! You’re a fucking broodmare! My personal fleshlight! My property!”
Your orgasm tore through you, a blinding, convulsive eruption. You buried yourself to the hilt and held there, pumping jet after hot, thick jet of your release deep into her womb. You felt it, the pulsing, the flooding heat, the absolute finality of it. You collapsed on top of her, your weight pressing her into the mattress, your cock still twitching inside her as you emptied everything you had.
For a long time, there was only the sound of your ragged breathing and her soft, continuous weeping.
Slowly, you softened and slipped out of her. You didn’t move from on top of her. You just lay there, feeling the rapid, frantic beat of her heart against your chest.
Finally, you pushed yourself up on your elbows. You looked down at her face. Her eyes were closed, tears still leaking from the corners. Her lips were parted, breathing shallowly.
You leaned down and kissed her. It wasn’t a kiss of passion, or love. It was a seal. A brand. She didn’t respond, but she didn’t pull away.
You broke the kiss and moved off her. You untied the silk scarves from her wrists and ankles, your movements almost gentle. She didn’t move, her limbs falling bonelessly to the bed, red marks circling the pale skin.
You got off the bed and went to the bathroom, returning with a warm, damp cloth. You cleaned her up, wiping the mingled sweat and fluids from her thighs, her stomach. She flinched at the first touch, then went still again, her eyes staring blankly at the ceiling.
When you were done, you tossed the cloth aside and lay down next to her on the ravaged bed. You pulled the comforter over both of you. The room was dark now, the last of the afternoon light gone.
You turned on your side, facing her. You reached out and brushed a strand of damp hair from her forehead. She didn’t look at you.
“Minjeong,” you said. Her name, not ‘Noona.’
Her eyes, empty and red-rimmed, slowly shifted to meet yours.
“It’s over,” you said, your voice quiet in the dark. “The fight. It’s done. You’re mine now. All of you. And I take care of what’s mine.”
A single, fresh tear rolled down into her hairline. She didn’t speak.
You leaned closer, your lips brushing her ear. “Tomorrow,” you whispered, the promise a dark, tender thing in the silence, “we start for real. No more threats. No more blackmail. You’re going to wake up, and you’re going to come to me. You’re going to get on your knees, and you’re going to beg for my cock. Because you want it. Because you need it. Because it’s the only thing that makes you feel real.”
You pulled back to see her reaction. Her lower lip trembled. But she didn’t argue. She didn’t protest. She just stared at you, a hollowed-out vessel waiting to be filled with whatever you chose to pour into her.
You smiled. A real smile this time, cold and satisfied. You settled back, pulling her limp body against yours, your hand splayed possessively over her flat stomach.
“Sleep,” you commanded. “You’ll need your strength.”
You closed your eyes, listening to her breathing gradually even out. Outside, the world went on. But in this room, with this broken woman in your arms, a new world had just been born. And you were its god.
The first gray light of dawn was just starting to bleed around the edges of the blinds when you felt her stir. You were already awake, had been for hours, just watching her, thinking.
She shifted, a small movement. Then, slowly, as if moving through deep water, she turned her head on the pillow to look at you. Her eyes were no longer empty. They held a deep, fathomless exhaustion, and a terrifying, focused need.
Her mouth opened. Her voice was a dry, cracked whisper, but the words were clear.
"The photos you uploaded yesterday came out so pretty."
It was the final fan sign event for BABYMONSTER's current promotion. Her small, delicate fingers were intertwined with mine as she gave me a cat-like eye smile. A flawlessly clear and beautiful face, overflowing with affection for her fan. But I was so lost in thought that I couldn't even feel the soft touch of her hand in mine.
Asa had no idea. She didn't know that I had discovered the filthy, depraved truth behind this beautiful fairy.
I never cared for idols in the slightest. I was just killing time in the military barracks, blankly watching a music show like everyone else, when I was helplessly drawn in by Asa's languid, feline gaze on stage. Ever since I visited her pre-recording during my first leave like a man possessed, the center of my universe was solely Enami Asa.
After my discharge, I blew all my savings on fan sign lottery tickets. I worked day and night to buy a ridiculously expensive camera body and a telephoto lens. Just capturing her radiant figure with my eyes wasn't enough. I became a 'homma', taking pictures of her myself, and Asa became a piece of my life.
That was why I never dared to cross the line. Even though I was a virgin who had never so much as held a woman's hand, I could never bring myself to use Asa as an outlet for my dirty lust. Thanks to military life, I had too much stamina and desperately needed a way to relieve my pent-up urges. So, I turned to the NSFW accounts on X (Twitter).
Last night was no different. I had just finished showering, leaned deep into my computer chair, and pulled down my pants when a new post notification popped up for my absolute favorite account. As always, the face was cleverly cropped out, showing off a breathtakingly slender body from the neck down. It was a Japanese account: [im_ane].
[ I'm leaking so much pussy juice again today, it's a problem💕 Ane needs a Master to fill up her tight cunt💕 ]
Looking at the photo paired with that slutty caption, my cock instantly got hard. I gripped my shaft, ready to stroke it, when my eyes locked onto the woman's chest.
A leather choker wrapped around a pale neck, with a large black heart pendant hanging from a thin silver chain. An accessory so familiar it haunted my dreams. It was the exact necklace I had stayed up for nights handcrafting as a birthday gift for Asa just a while ago.
'...No fucking way.'
My gaze shifted from the necklace down to a mole on her right collarbone. Asa's mole was on her left collarbone. But Asa always flipped her photos horizontally when posting on Weverse. How the hell did I only just notice this?
My heart began to pound out of my chest as I frantically scrolled through her past photos and videos. Then, on a whim, I read 'im_ane' backwards. Smooshed together, it spelled enami. She wasn't some Japanese girl named Ane-chan. She was Enami from Enami Asa. All the pieces clicked into place.
My ultimate bias was an exhibitionist slut on Twitter. She oozed sexual appeal on stage, but that wasn't enough for her—she had to sneak around acting like a complete whore behind the scenes. Something straight out of a man's filthy, depraved fantasy was playing out right in front of my eyes.
"...Is something wrong? Do I have something on my face?"
Asa, who had been staring intently at me, tilted her head like a cat looking at its owner. I snapped back to reality and gave her a warm smile.
"No, you just look so pretty today I spaced out for a second. Here, this is for you."
Keeping a firm grip on her left hand with my right, I reached out with my free hand and slid a carefully folded envelope across the table. On the outside, it looked exactly like the fan letters I always gave her. Except for one little detail: the name on the envelope wasn't 'To. ASA'.
[ To. ANE ]
"Thank you...!"
Smiling as she took the envelope, Asa's expression froze the exact second her eyes landed on those three letters. Cold sweat began to form on the hand intertwined with mine, and the bright smile she had worn the entire time completely vanished. As she slowly lifted her gaze to meet my eyes, I smirked at her.
"Ane-chan. Make sure you read it when you're completely alone. Got it?"
"Y... yeah, th-thank you..."
Leaving a petrified Asa behind, I moved on to the next members. I have no memory of what we even talked about. I didn't even try to stall for time to squeeze out an extra word like I usually did. My mind was entirely consumed with thoughts of what I was going to do with Ane... no, with Asa.
Once my turn ended, I went back to my seat, grabbed my camera, and watched Asa's face. As if she had completely forgotten her earlier panic, she was chatting and reacting perfectly with the fans in front of her. Truly a pro idol.
Whenever she had a spare second, she'd look into my lens and strike a pose. She even gave me the LOVE sign she always did. Seeing her maintain her composure and do her absolute best as an idol despite being terrified only made her look prettier. And that made me want to absolutely wreck her body even more. I was going to be her Master.
Coming home after the fan sign, I pulled the memory card from my camera, hooked it up to my computer, and transferred the files. Then, I sent a DM to the im_ane account with my home address and the photo of her doing the LOVE pose, telling her I was waiting. I had actually gone through with it, but my inner loser DNA kicked in, making me squat on my chair and bite my nails in sheer anxiety. I stared at the DM window for about 15 minutes before the 'Read' receipt finally popped up. Waiting for her to read it felt like an eternity, but waiting for her reply felt even longer. Just as cold sweat began to drip down my back, drowning in regret and wondering if I had made a massive mistake, a new message arrived.
'I can be there in about two hours.'
I clenched my fist and threw a silent uppercut into the air. Replying right away would make it feel like I was losing the upper hand, so I waited five minutes before typing back, 'Alright, got it.'
Feeling a weight lift off my chest, I zoomed in on the photos I took today to admire Asa's face. I was too distracted earlier to notice, but there was a tiny pimple on her left cheek. She must be exhausted from the comeback prep. It made my heart ache for her. And she was beautiful—so beautiful that words weren't enough. To think my goddess had a hobby of being a Twitter exhibitionist. Thank god she didn't get caught by some real scumbag. She was lucky it was a nice guy like me. Wait, lucky? What the hell was I even planning to do by calling her to my house?
What if we just had sex once? Wouldn't that count as gentle blackmail? Imagining Asa naked, I pulled up a full-body shot from today and zoomed in until her waist down to her thighs filled the entire monitor. What color is her pussy? Did she shave her pubes? Does she smell sweet? Right in the middle of these happy, filthy thoughts, the doorbell rang.
Ding-dong—
Asa was here. Has it already been two hours? I scrambled to open the door.
She wore an ivory short-sleeved blouse with a round collar, tied with a thin black ribbon. Paired with a black miniskirt, over-the-knee socks, and platform combat boots, the outfit perfectly complemented her lovely charm. But the moment I met those sharp, cat-like eyes glaring at me above her mask, I flinched.
"Someone might see me. I'm coming in."
Shoving past me, Asa stepped inside, stood in the middle of the room, and looked around. Stacks of BABYMONSTER albums bought for the fan sign lottery, Asa merchandise, my camera carelessly tossed aside just to check the photos, and my messy, unmade bed. I felt horribly exposed, as if my most pathetic secrets were laid bare. Did I make a mistake bringing her here?
As she scanned the room, Asa's eyes locked onto the monitor. The screen still displayed the massively zoomed-in shot of her lower half.
"Is this the kind of shit you come to take pictures of?"
"A-Asa, wait... it's not what you think..."
"Turns out you're a complete piece of trash."
At her cold words, I dropped my head, completely speechless. Blackmail wasn't something just anyone could pull off. Was a loser like me out of his depth from the start?
Looking visibly irritated, she aggressively ripped off her mask, sat on the edge of my bed, and crossed her legs. Her skirt rode up, exposing her pale, smooth thighs. Asa crossed her arms and glared up at me. Terrified of her gaze, I kept my head down, hands clasped together, staring at the floor.
"Hey."
"Y-Yes?"
"Take off your pants."
"Huh?"
Thinking I had misheard, I just blinked at her dumbly. But Asa drove the nail in with a freezing tone.
"I'll give you one handjob, and in exchange, you pretend you don't know anything about this from today onwards. Take them off, you retard."
Swallowed whole by Asa's sudden transformation into a domineering queen, I unbuckled my belt and dropped my pants as if possessed. My pants fell to my ankles, blatantly exposing my worn-out underwear with its stretched-out waistband. Ah, of all the days, why was I wearing these? My face felt like it was going to explode from the shame.
"Take those off too." She pointed down, looking at me like I was literal garbage.
"W-What do I take off..."
"Your underwear. You're a virgin, aren't you?"
Bullseye. How did she know? Is she psychic? I hesitated before pulling down my boxers. Despite being completely intimidated by her, my cock sprang free, throbbing and rock-hard. It was the first time in my life I had ever whipped out my dick in front of a woman, and I never imagined it would be like this, right in front of my ultimate bias. Asa smirked, one corner of her mouth curling up as she eyed my shaft with amusement. She beckoned me closer with her index finger.
"Come here."
I realized in my bones that this was not the blackmailer-and-hostage dynamic I had pictured, but I couldn't refuse her command. Covering my junk with both hands out of shame, I stepped closer. She gestured toward the bed with her chin.
"Lie down on your back."
Like a good, obedient dog, I laid back on the bed. My hard length stood rigidly straight up toward the ceiling as Asa's small, pale hand reached out.
"For a loser, your cock is uselessly big."
The moment her hand wrapped around my hot shaft.
"Hngh...!"
My hips jerked up involuntarily as a beastly groan escaped my lips. It was on a completely different dimension from my own rough hands that I'd used my whole life. It was the touch of a woman—so small, soft, and cool. Gripping my cock firmly, Asa began to slowly stroke her hand up and down my length. Every time the taut foreskin stretched over the head and then slid back, an electric jolt of pleasure shot straight up my spine.
It only took a few strokes before a thick glob of slick pre-cum oozed from the tip.
"What's this? You have a premature-ejaculation cock? Lol."
Asa giggled, mocking me in amusement. She used her index finger to play with my pre-cum, stretching it out like thin spiderwebs. Then, she grabbed my shaft again and used her thumb to smear the slick fluid all over the sensitive head, stimulating it.
"Hnn...! A-Asa, wait..."
Experiencing brain-melting pleasure for the first time in my life, I instinctively grabbed her wrist.
"Who the hell told you you could touch me?"
Startled by her vicious reprimand, I snatched my hand back immediately.
"S-Sorry..."
"You're absolutely not allowed to cum until I give you permission. Got it?"
"Y-Yeah, got it... But, it feels so good I think I'm going crazy..."
As the intense stimulation continued, more pre-cum constantly leaked out and dribbled down my shaft. In the quiet studio apartment, the only sound echoing was the lewd, sloppy friction of my pre-cum and Asa's soft palm rubbing together. My ultimate bias was sitting on my bed, jerking my cock. The destructive synergy of visual and tactile pleasure was completely beyond what a virgin like me could handle.
An unbearable urge to cum surged through my cock, which was now so hard it felt like it would burst.
"A-Asa... I think I'm going to cum."
"No. I told you not to cum without my permission."
"A-Ah! Ugh! But, I...!"
"Hold it. No!"
"S-Sorry, Asa! Haaah—!"
In the end, despite her protests, the tightly wound string of my sanity simply snapped.
"Kyaaah—!"
Thick, hot ropes of white cum erupted from the tip of my swollen head. Shooting upwards with enough force to practically hit the ceiling, the semen splattered all over my chest and stomach. A few thick, heavy ropes shot wildly, miserably splattering across the pale cheek and ivory blouse of Asa, who had been looking down at me defenselessly.
"Asa, I-I'm sorry... nngh, haah..."
I needed to apologize to Asa, who was completely freaked out and shocked, but my hypersensitive cock was still trapped in her small grip. As the aftershocks of my climax clashed with the slippery feeling of her palm, my hips spasmed uncontrollably, and I couldn't stop throwing rope after rope of cum into her hand.
Asa gasped and froze at the sudden bombardment of my cum. Her pretty face quickly contorted in disgust, and she roughly wiped the thick, white fluid streaked across her cheek with her fingers, spitting out a low curse.
"Haa... fuck."
"I-I'm sorry..."
Having spewed my cum like a wild beast, my senses returned to me, and I shrank back in terror.
"Where are the tissues?"
"Y-Yeah... over, over there on the desk..."
Asa stood up irritably, yanking out some tissues to wipe her face and hands. I just lay there on the bed, unable to run away, helplessly watching her. Despite having just blown my load, the cock between my legs was completely unbothered, still throbbing with veins and pointing straight up at the ceiling.
After roughly wiping off my cum, Asa's gaze swept over my desk and landed on a box of condoms sitting between my speakers. A wicked smirk curled on her lips.
"Ha! Did you buy these thinking you'd use them on me? I thought you were a kissless virgin?"
"N-No... it's not that, I was just curious what it felt like to wear one, so I bought them to jerk off with..."
"Lol, what a fucking pathetic loser. ...Wait, what's this? Why is that thing still hard?"
A strange curiosity and an undeniable heat flashed in Asa's eyes as she looked down at my rigid, cum-smeared cock. Pinching a condom packet between her fingers, she prowled back to the bed with the lithe steps of a cat.
"Want me to pop your cherry for you, too?"
"W-What...?"
"If you want it, call me 'Master'."
You might think a man should have some pride, that he could never call a woman his 'Master'. But that pathetic little thought evaporated in a fraction of a second. Panting from the agonizing ache in my balls that felt ready to burst, I clasped my hands together and begged.
"M-Master... Please, I'm begging you."
Pleased by my miserable submission, Asa let out a satisfied laugh and climbed onto the bed. She lightly sucked on my cock, her mouth cleaning off the leftover cum, before tearing open the wrapper and rolling the condom down my shaft. Then, she stripped off her blouse and skirt, slowly and deliberately taking off her matching black lingerie set just to show off to me. My ultimate bias, entirely naked and pristine. She spread her own pussy lips, grabbed my cock, aligned it with her entrance, and dropped her hips down in one swift motion.
"Hnnn...!"
"Haaht...!"
A suffocating pressure and blistering heat swallowed my cock whole. Feeling the tight, narrow walls of a woman for the very first time, beastly groans erupted from both my mouth and Asa's at the same time.
Asa flinched for a moment, as if shocked by my ignorantly large size, but soon began rolling her hips and moving up and down. It was maddeningly euphoric. My goddess, who I used to only see through a screen, was panting as she took my cock deep inside her.
But for someone with a frame as fragile as Asa's, riding on top drained her stamina fast. After bouncing her hips roughly a few times, she seemed to hit her limit, collapsing her sweat-drenched head against my chest, gasping for air.
"Haa... haa, I'm too tired... You fuck my pussy now."
"W-What do I do?"
"Hah, you retard. Get on top and fuck me."
With a heavily flushed face, Asa snapped at me, flipping over to lie flat on her back on the bed. Between her completely spread, pale thighs, her glistening, juice-drenched pussy was fully exposed. Her raw, pink slit twitched and gaped as if trying to hypnotize me.
"Now, put it in."
The moment the command dropped, I thrust my hips like a wild animal, but like a true virgin loser, I just kept poking the wrong spots, completely unable to find the hole. After failing to penetrate three times and hitting a wall, cold sweat dripped down my face as I nervously checked Asa's reaction.
"Haa... Seriously, you fucking virgin. Put it right here."
Unable to stand the frustration, Asa reached down herself, grabbing my thick shaft and guiding it right against her wet entrance. I slammed my hips forward like a beast, and my cock drove flawlessly into her, burying itself all the way to her cervix with zero resistance.
"Haaaang—!"
Asa's back arched like a bow, her hands gripping the bedsheets like she was going to tear them apart. Seeing her react to my every move like a bitch in heat ignited a hidden sadistic urge deep inside me. I completely lost my mind, aggressively pumping into her like a madman, when suddenly—
Pop—
An unsettling, popping friction sound echoed from inside her. Startled, I pulled out, only to see that the condom hadn't survived the ignorant friction; the tip was miserably torn, leaving my bare head completely exposed. She must not have pinched all the air out when she rolled it on.
"U-Um, Asa... I mean, Master. The condom broke, what should I do?"
Soaked in pleasure, Asa's eyes were unfocused as she gasped and panted heavily.
"J-Just do it... Ngh, hurry..."
It seemed like stopping now would drive her crazier, so she gave me the green light to go bareback. I immediately ripped off that useless piece of rubber, tossed it aside, and ruthlessly rammed myself raw into Asa's blazing hot pussy.
"Haaht—!"
Just a thin membrane of a condom was gone, but a destructive wave of pleasure shot up my spine, feeling like it was melting my very brain. The vivid sensation of her hot, intricate inner walls tightly licking every inch of my exposed head. I gripped her impossibly tiny waist with both hands like I was going to crush it, pounding into her like an absolute madman.
"Master, I'm going to cum!"
"O-Outside... Cum outside!"
Right at the absolute edge, I barely managed to yank my cock out and spewed my cum all over Asa's slim, toned stomach. Maybe it was the sheer intensity of my first time having sex, but even though it was my second load, the ropes of cum blasted out with terrifying pressure, shooting past her stomach to sloppily splatter her pale cheeks and damp hair.
"Ah, sorry, I'm so sorry...!"
I frantically grabbed some tissues to wipe her face. Her mind completely blown by the pleasure, Asa just let me handle her body while she lay there gasping for air. ‘I actually just had sex with Asa.’ Just as I was trying to catch my breath in this utterly unbelievable reality.
"Haa.. Haa.. Don't you dare tell anyone about today. If you do, I really won't let you get away with it."
Since she was just whimpering underneath me a second ago, even her icy warning sounded like a cute, whiny pout. After resting for a moment, Asa stumbled up and bent over to slip her foot into her panties on the floor. In that instant, the gorgeous curves of her round ass and her puffy, pink pussy—which had just been swallowing my cock—filled my entire vision.
I literally heard the last thread of my sanity snap in my head. My softening dick instantly ballooned back up to bursting hardness. Before I could even think, I lunged at her like an animal, grabbing her hips and ruthlessly shoving my cock into her from behind.
"Aah?! W-What! Are you crazy?!"
"Master, I'm sorry. Please let me do it just one more time..."
"You fucking psycho, let go of me! This is rape! Ngh, ha, haaang—!"
Asa's screams about rape were instantly crushed into heated moans against the violent, overwhelming pleasure of a massive cock slamming mercilessly into her. Looking down at her fragile back and ass from behind poured gasoline onto the dark desire to conquer her burning inside me. Asa scrambled and braced her hands on the floor to try and crawl away, but that posture only presented her lower half perfectly to me, allowing me to batter her even deeper.
"Haa, haa...!"
I bred her like a wild animal, eventually spraying my third load directly onto Asa's back.
"Haa... Haa, do you really have a death wish...?"
Sprawled face down on the floor, Asa glared up at me, trying to catch her breath. But the scales of power had already been completely shattered. The terrifying thought that I might never be able to embrace this body again after today made me frantic. I scooped up Asa's body as she cursed and huffed at me, and hurled her back onto the bed.
"What are you doing! Aren't you going to stop?! Haaht—!"
Ignoring her screams, I buried my shaft between her spread legs once again. It was already my fourth erection so it wasn't as bursting hard as before, but Asa had already climaxed twice and was dripping so much honey that I slid right in without any issue.
"O-Oppa... P-please stop... I'm so tired, haang...! At... at least put on a condom. Please, haaht..."
At some point, the way she addressed me had changed from 'you' to 'Oppa'. Seeing the arrogant top idol crying and clinging to me like a whore underneath me was maddeningly adorable. I forcefully devoured the lips of the struggling Asa.
As if possessed, Asa wrapped her arms and legs tightly around my body and accepted my tongue. The most primal male instincts deep inside my DNA fired up like crazy. I wanted to leave my mark inside the womb of this pretty, arrogant little bitch. I wanted to breed her.
"Haa, Asa...!"
Slamming my head into the absolute deepest part of her cervix, I stopped pumping and completely unloaded a catastrophic amount of cum inside her. Thick, boiling hot seeds thoroughly filled up the most secret place of my ultimate bias, my goddess, before overflowing and spilling back out.
A few hours later.
"P-Please... Ahh, it's already the sixth time... I-I was wrong about everything. I'll... I'll let you fuck me again next time, so please, j-just stop... Haaht!"
I kept plowing into her until the morning sun began to rise outside the window.
Looking down leisurely at Asa, who was helplessly getting plowed underneath me, clutching the pillow and completely covered in tears and drool, I brushed her sweat-soaked hair aside and cupped her cheek.
I stepped into the apartment three months ago, my heart still hammering against my ribs at the absurdity of it all. The rent was astronomical, far beyond what a normal person should pay for a shared living space, but this was not a normal situation. This was Jihyo's apartment. Park Jihyo. The leader of TWICE. The woman whose voice had soundtracked my late nights and whose smile had lit up screens I stared at for far too long. When the listing appeared, when I realized it was genuinely her, genuinely the opportunity to share oxygen with her daily, I signed the lease before rational thought could intervene.
The first three months dissolved into something more comfortable than I had any right to expect. Jihyo's schedule was merciless, a revolving door of tour dates, Music Bank shoots, fan meetings that sent her stumbling home at hours when the city had gone quiet. She needed someone to water the plants, to accept packages, to make sure the gas was off and the doors were locked. I needed proximity. It was an unspoken contract that worked.
Every morning became ritual. I would wake in my small room, the one adjacent to hers with only a thin wall between us, and I would emerge shirtless. Just shorts. Sometimes black, sometimes grey, always loose enough to sleep in. I would pad barefoot across the hardwood, open the curtains to let the morning light flood the living room, and collapse onto the couch with my water bottle. Jihyo had seen me this way dozens of times. She never commented, never seemed to notice the bare chest, the sleep-mussed hair, the way my shorts rode low on my hips. She would emerge fully dressed, hair done, face composed, and we would exchange pleasantries like normal roommates.
I assumed she was comfortable with it. I assumed wrong.
The morning it changed began like any other. I woke to the grey light of dawn filtering through my blinds, pulled on my black shorts, and nothing else. The fabric sat low on my hips as I walked to the kitchen, retrieved my glass from the cabinet, filled it with cold water from the fridge. I was mid-sip, my throat working against the chill, when I heard the distinctive click of her bedroom door.
She emerged.
The glass slipped from my fingers, not falling, but my grip loosening enough that water sloshed over the rim and splashed onto my bare chest. I choked, sputtering, the liquid going down the wrong pipe as I stared.
Jihyo was not wearing a shirt.
She was not wearing anything on her upper body at all.
Her breasts were bare, full and heavy and unencumbered, moving slightly with her steps. The morning light caught her skin, highlighting the soft weight of them, the darker circles of her areolas, the way they swayed as she walked without a hint of self-consciousness. Below, she wore only black panties. I recognized them immediately, the memory surfacing unbidden, the same pair she had worn in Hawaii for her birthday trip, the photos I had seen online now nothing compared to the reality three feet from me.
She moved as if she were fully clothed. As if this were normal.
"Morning," she said, her voice casual, melodic. She didn't look at me. She walked past me toward the kitchen, her bare feet silent on the floor.
I wiped water from my chin, my throat working. "Jihyo... what..."
She opened the fridge, the light illuminating her torso, casting soft shadows beneath her breasts. She hummed, a tune I didn't recognize, and pulled out a bottle of water. She twisted the cap, took a long drink, her throat moving, water spilling slightly from the corner of her mouth. It traced a path down her chin, her neck, and dripped onto her chest. She didn't flinch. She reached for a tissue from the counter, the motion making her breasts lift and shift, and she wiped at the moisture, the tissue dragging across her nipples, her skin.
"You're staring," she said, finally looking at me. Her eyes were bright, amused. Not ashamed. Not even slightly.
"I... you're..." I couldn't form words. I looked away, my face burning, my shorts suddenly feeling tight and constricting. "What are you doing?"
"Getting water," she said simply. She leaned against the counter, her hip cocked, her breasts resting against her ribs. "Is that not allowed?"
"You're naked," I managed, still not looking, my voice coming out strangled.
"I'm wearing underwear," she corrected. "You're practically naked too. I've seen you in those shorts every morning for three months. What's the difference?"
"The anatomy," I said, finding some semblance of logic. "It's different. I'm shirtless, you're... you're topless. It's not the same."
She pushed off the counter and walked toward me. I heard her footsteps, felt her presence before I saw her. She stopped in front of the adjacent couch and sat down, crossing her legs. The position did nothing to hide her; if anything, it framed her differently, the softness of her stomach, the curve of her hip, the way her breasts settled against her body.
"I know about anatomy," she said, her voice dry. "I took biology. But I also know about equality. You walk around here every morning, half-naked, comfortable as you please. Why can't I?"
"Because..." I had no answer. I turned my head, risked a look at her. She was watching me with an expression I couldn't read, challenge mixed with something else. Something curious.
"Because what?" she pressed.
"Because it's distracting," I admitted.
She smiled. It wasn't shy. It wasn't coy. It was confident, powerful. "Then that's your problem, isn't it? I'm comfortable like this. If you're not, that's on you."
Something shifted in my chest. The shock was fading, replaced by something warmer, something that pooled in my gut. I smirked, the tension breaking into something else entirely. "I've got no problem," I said, my voice steadier now. "But isn't it a bit much? For a Saturday morning?"
"Why? Because it's unexpected?" She leaned back, her arms spreading along the back of the couch. The motion lifted her breasts slightly, presented them to the room. "I think we've been tiptoeing around each other for three months. I think it's exhausting. I think..." she paused, her eyes meeting mine, "I think we should stop pretending."
"Pretending what?"
"That we don't notice each other. That this is just a roommate situation." She tilted her head. "You applied for this apartment knowing it was me. I accepted you knowing you were... you. Let's stop acting like we're strangers who just happen to share a bathroom."
The air in the room had changed. It was charged, electric. I could feel my pulse in my throat, my wrists, lower. "So what do you propose?"
She thought for a moment, her finger tapping against her lip. Then her eyes lit up with mischief. "A challenge. Tomorrow's Sunday. We both have the day off. We spend it completely naked. Not a single piece of clothing. All day. Whoever gets uncomfortable first, loses. The winner decides what the loser has to do."
"You're serious."
"Deadly."
I looked at her, at the bare skin, the challenge in her eyes. "You're on."
The night before Sunday, Saturday evening bled into the apartment with the sound of keys in the lock. I was on the couch, shirtless as had become my habit, when Jihyo stepped through the door. She was still in her outfit from the Barrel photoshoot, some combination of denim and fabric that looked expensive and uncomfortable, her hair styled within an inch of its life, makeup still perfect despite the long hours.
She kicked off her shoes without looking at me, walking past with a mumbled greeting, her body language radiating exhaustion. "Long day," she said, not a question.
"Go change," I told her. "You look miserable."
She paused, looked at me, and something in her expression shifted. Remembered. "Right. Give me a minute."
She went to her room. I heard the rustle of fabric, the snap of a bra being unhooked, the whisper of clothes hitting the floor. When she emerged, she was wearing only pink shorts.
Cotton, simple, riding low on her hips. Her breasts moved freely as she walked to the kitchen, her nipples slightly hardened from the air conditioning or the transition from the hot outdoors.
She retrieved a bag of chips from the cabinet, tore it open, and ate standing at the counter, her back to me. The muscles in her back shifted, her shoulder blades moving, the dimples at the base of her spine visible above the waistband of her shorts. She finished a handful, licked salt from her fingers, and turned.
"Tomorrow," she said, before walking back toward her room. She stopped at the threshold, looked back at me over her shoulder. Her hair was coming loose, strands falling around her face. "Remember? It's tomorrow. Let's see who breaks first."
Sunday arrived with sunlight that seemed too bright, too exposing.
I woke early, my stomach tight with anticipation. The apartment was silent. I pulled off my sleep shorts before leaving my room, standing in my doorway completely nude, my cock already half-hard from the thought of what was coming. I took a breath and walked out.
Jihyo's door opened at the same time.
She was wearing the pink shorts. Nothing else. Her breasts were bare in the morning light, the nipples darker than I remembered from the glimpse before, slightly erect from the cool air. She looked at me, her eyes dropping immediately to my hips, to what hung there between my legs.
"Let's start," she said, her voice steady. "Shall we? Or if you're uncomfortable, we can stop it right here."
I scoffed. The sound came out braver than I felt. My fingers hooked into the waistband of my shorts, and I pulled them down in one motion. My cock sprang free, fully hard now, bobbing slightly as I stepped out of the fabric pooled at my ankles. I kicked them aside and stood there, naked, exposed, my arousal evident and unapologetic.
Jihyo's eyebrows raised. She looked me up and down, her gaze lingering on my erection, on the way it stood out from my body, thick and veined. "Impressive," she said, and there was no mockery in it. Just observation.
Then she hooked her thumbs into her pink shorts and pulled them down. They fell to her ankles, and she stepped out of them, kicking them toward me playfully. She was bare now, completely, her pussy exposed. The hair there was neatly trimmed, a dark triangle that drew the eye, the lips slightly parted, glistening faintly with arousal she didn't bother to hide.
"Now we're even," she said.
The day stretched before us, endless and charged.
We moved around each other in the kitchen, the space suddenly too small. I was at the counter slicing an apple when she came to get coffee. She reached past me, her bare arm brushing mine, her breast pressing against my bicep as she stretched for a mug. She didn't apologize. She didn't move away. She ground the beans, the machine whirring, and when she turned to wait for the coffee, her hip bumped my ass.
"Sorry," she said, not sounding sorry at all.
"You're in my way," I said, but I didn't move.
She stayed there, pressed against me, her soft skin warm against my backside. I could feel the curve of her hip, the swell of her stomach, the way her breath moved her chest. I turned slightly, and my cock brushed her thigh. She didn't flinch.
"Excuse me," I said, my voice rough.
"You're excused," she replied, and took her coffee to the living room.
I followed, my erection leading the way, unashamed. I sat on the couch, the leather cool against my bare skin, and I spread my legs wide. The position opened me completely, displayed everything. I placed my hand on my cock, not stroking, just holding, resting it there in plain view.
Jihyo sat on the adjacent couch, her coffee cup in both hands, her legs crossed. The position gave me a view of her pussy, the folds visible, the pink flesh between her thighs. She sipped her coffee, her eyes flicking to my hand, to my cock, then back to the TV.
"You going to do something with that," she asked, "or just hold it like a security blanket?"
"Waiting for you to break," I said.
She laughed, a real laugh that made her breasts shake. "Not going to happen."
I started stroking. Slowly, my fist moving up and down my shaft, the friction building. I watched her watching me, her eyes following the motion of my hand, the way my thumb swirled over the head, spreading the bead of moisture that had formed there. I made it obvious, made noise, grunting slightly as I worked myself, the wet sounds of my hand on my skin filling the silence.
She didn't look away. She finished her coffee, set the cup down, and stood. She walked to her room, her ass swaying, the muscles in her back flexing. She returned holding a box of tissues.
"If you make the table or the couch dirty," she said, setting the tissues on the coffee table between us, "I'll kill you."
Then she walked back to the kitchen, her hips rolling, and placed her cup in the sink. The sound of porcelain against porcelain. The water running. She was washing it, her back to me, her ass presented to the room as she bent slightly to reach the faucet.
I kept stroking, kept watching, kept waiting for her to crack.
She didn't.
The hours passed in a haze of naked proximity. We ate lunch at the small table, both of us nude, passing dishes, our legs brushing underneath. She dropped a napkin and bent to retrieve it, her ass in the air, her pussy visible from behind, the dark cleft between her cheeks. I watched, my cock throbbing against my stomach, and she stayed bent longer than necessary, looking back at me with a smirk.
"See something you like?"
"Just admiring the view," I managed.
She straightened, sat back down, and ate her sandwich as if she were fully clothed at a business lunch.
By evening, the tension had become a physical thing, a weight in the air. I was in the living room, pretending to read, my cock still hard, still ignored, when I heard her in the kitchen doing dishes. The water running, the clink of plates.
I stood. I walked to the kitchen doorway and watched her. She was at the sink, her back to me, her hair tied up in a messy bun that exposed her neck. Her back was beautiful, the line of her spine, the way her waist narrowed before flaring into her hips. Her ass was round, perfect, the dimples at the sides visible as she shifted her weight.
I approached slowly, my bare feet silent. I stopped behind her, close enough that I could smell her shampoo, her skin. I stepped forward until my cock pressed against the cleft of her ass, the length of it nestling between her cheeks, the heat of her skin against mine.
"Oh," I said, my voice dripping with false innocence, "sorry, Jihyo. I didn't mean to touch you—"
She pushed back.
Her ass pressed firmly against my cock, her cheeks parting slightly around my shaft. She ground back, a slow, deliberate rotation of her hips that dragged her skin against my length. She turned her head, her profile visible, her lips curved in a smile.
"Were you saying something?" she asked.
She pressed back harder, rubbing against me, using my cock to pleasure herself, the friction building. I groaned, my hands coming to her hips, gripping her, pulling her harder against me.
"I was saying," I managed, my voice strained, "that I think you lost."
"Did I?" She turned fully, twisting in my grip, and her mouth found mine.
The kiss was not tentative. It was not gentle. It was the explosion of three months of tension, of mornings and evenings and stolen glances. Her tongue invaded my mouth, her hands came to my chest, her nails digging in. I groaned into her, my cock trapped between us, pressed against her stomach.
She broke the kiss, her breath coming fast. "Help me with the dishes," she said, her voice husky.
"What?"
"Help me." She turned back to the sink, her ass pressing against me again, but this time she reached for my hands, pulled them around her, placed them on the plate in the soapy water. "Guide me."
I moved behind her, my chest to her back, my cock nestled against her ass, and we washed the plate together, my hands over hers, slippery with soap. When the plate was clean, set aside, my hands didn't return to the water. They moved up, cupping her breasts, lifting their weight, my thumbs dragging across her nipples.
She gasped, arching back against me. "Yes."
I squeezed, my fingers digging into the soft flesh, rolling her nipples between my thumbs and forefingers, pulling them, elongating them. She moaned, a sound that vibrated through her chest into my palms. She turned again, and this time the kiss was desperate, her hands in my hair, pulling, her teeth nipping at my lower lip.
"Table," she gasped between kisses. "Now."
I lifted her. My hands went under her thighs, and I hoisted her up, her legs wrapping around my waist, her pussy grinding against my stomach, leaving a trail of wetness on my skin. I carried her the few steps to the dining table and set her down on the edge, the wood cool against her ass.
I kissed her neck, my mouth trailing down, tasting the salt of her skin, the perfume at her throat. I moved lower, my lips finding the hollow above her collarbone, the swell of her breast. I took her nipple into my mouth, sucking hard, my tongue flicking against the hardened peak, my hand kneading the other breast, switching back and forth, worshipping them, the weight and softness of them, the way they filled my hands and mouth.
She moaned, her head falling back, her hands gripping my hair, holding me to her. "Don't stop," she breathed.
I moved lower, my mouth tracing a path down her sternum, her ribs, the softness of her stomach. I dipped my tongue into her navel, felt her muscles contract, heard her gasp. I kept going, my hands pushing her thighs apart, opening her to me.
Her pussy was beautiful. The trimmed hair glistening with her arousal, the lips swollen and parted, the pink flesh inside visible, wet and inviting. I could smell her, musky and sweet, and it made my cock throb painfully.
I started at her knee. I kissed the inside of her thigh, high up, close to where she wanted me but not there yet. I moved to the other thigh, doing the same, teasing, making her wait. She whimpered, her hips lifting, trying to guide me.
"Please," she said, and the word broke something in me.
I licked her. A long, slow stroke from the bottom of her slit to the top, my tongue flat, dragging through her folds, gathering her taste. She cried out, her hands flying to her own breasts, squeezing them, her back arching off the table.
I did it again, and again, finding her clit with the tip of my tongue, circling it, flicking it, sucking it into my mouth. She was loud, uninhibited, her moans filling the apartment, echoing off the walls. I speared my tongue into her entrance, fucking her with it, feeling her muscles contract around me, then returned to her clit, alternating, driving her higher.
"Inside," she begged. "Please, I need you inside."
I stood, my cock bobbing, heavy and hard. I positioned myself at her entrance, the head of my cock kissing her wetness, sliding through her folds, coating myself in her. I looked at her, at her flushed face, her parted lips, her breasts heaving with her breath, her legs spread wide for me, her pussy open and waiting.
I pushed in.
She was tight, hot, slick. She enveloped me, her muscles gripping me, pulling me deeper. We both groaned, the sound mingling, becoming one noise of pure pleasure. I bottomed out, my hips pressed against hers, my cock buried to the root inside her.
I started to move.
Slow at first, long strokes, pulling almost all the way out before sliding back in, feeling every inch of her around me, the way she gripped me, the wet sounds of our joining filling the room. She wrapped her legs around my waist, her heels digging into my ass, pulling me deeper, harder.
"Faster," she demanded.
I obliged. I picked up the pace, my hips snapping against hers, the table creaking beneath us, her breasts bouncing with each thrust, the sight of them hypnotic. I leaned down, captured a nipple in my mouth again, sucking hard as I fucked her, the dual sensation making her scream.
I could feel her tightening around me, her muscles fluttering, her breath coming in gasps. "I'm close," she warned. "Don't stop, don't stop, please—"
I didn't stop. I fucked her through her orgasm, my hand between us, my thumb finding her clit, rubbing it in tight circles as she came apart beneath me. She cried out, her back arching violently, her nails raking down my back, her pussy clamping down on my cock in rhythmic waves that milked me, threatened to push me over the edge.
I pulled out before I came. I wasn't done with her yet.
"Bedroom," I growled. "Couch. Now."
I lifted her again, my cock sliding against her stomach, wet with her, and carried her to the living room. I set her down on the couch, the same couch where we had spent the day tormenting each other, and she immediately turned, presenting herself to me on her hands and knees, her ass in the air, her pussy visible from behind, swollen and dripping.
"Like this," she said, looking back at me. "Take me like this."
I lined myself up and pushed back in, the angle different, deeper, hitting places that made her cry out immediately. I gripped her hips, my fingers digging into the soft flesh of her ass, and I fucked her hard, the sound of skin slapping against skin loud in the room, her breasts swinging beneath her, her hair falling around her face.
I reached around her, my hand finding her clit again, rubbing it in time with my thrusts, feeling her build again, feeling her start to shake. "Come with me," I commanded. "Come with me now."
She did. Her second orgasm was harder than the first, her body convulsing, her pussy squeezing me so tight I saw stars, and I couldn't hold back anymore. I buried myself to the hilt and came, my cock pulsing, shooting deep inside her, filling her, my groan torn from my chest, my body shuddering against hers.
We collapsed together onto the couch, a tangle of limbs and sweat and cum. I was still inside her, softening but not leaving, my chest to her back, my arms around her, my hands cupping her breasts. We breathed together, hard and fast, the air cooling our skin.
"So," she said, her voice hoarse, "who won?"
I laughed, the motion making my cock slip out of her, making us both gasp at the loss. "I think we both did."
She turned in my arms, facing me, her legs tangled with mine. She kissed me, soft now, gentle, her hand cupping my face. "Roommates with benefits," she said. "Like that movie. Friends with benefits."
"Just sex," I agreed, though we both knew it was already more. "Whenever the mood strikes."
"Whenever," she confirmed, her hand drifting down between us, finding my cock again, already stirring at her touch. "Which might be sooner than you think."
I groaned, capturing her mouth again, ready for round two, the deal forgotten, the challenge won by both of us, the apartment filled with the sounds of our new arrangement.
£10,000,000 for one (1) yandere ARTMS Choerry story with smut. Your incest/impregnation posts are my favorite. I see your new Yandere Universe takes place at university, Maybe she visits her younger brother at his school, sees all the attention he gets and gets jealous. Using him to breed. Herself full of babies at his dorm while everyone around hears.? Anything you can imagine!! Thanks!!
The crisp autumn breeze swept through the campus as Y/n hurried back to his dormitory, his backpack slung over one shoulder. The day had been long—lectures, group projects, and the constant buzz of university life left him exhausted. But there was a strange undercurrent in the air today, something he couldn’t quite place. It felt… charged, like the calm before a storm.
He was almost to his building when his phone buzzed in his pocket. He fished it out, glancing at the screen. A single text lit up:
Choerry: I’m here.
His heart skipped a beat. Choerry? Here? She hadn’t mentioned visiting this weekend. He scrolled up, checking their messages. Nothing. Just her usual check-ins and the occasional I miss you. He typed back quickly:
Y/n: Where are you?
Her reply came instantly.
Choerry: Outside your dorm. Hurry up.
He picked up his pace, his nerves tingling with a mix of excitement and unease. Choerry had always been… intense. Their bond was unshakable, but sometimes her clinginess bordered on suffocating. Still, seeing her now after months apart sent a thrill through him.
Rounding the corner, he spotted her immediately. She was leaning against the wall by the entrance, arms crossed, her dark hair catching the orange glow of the setting sun. Her eyes locked onto his the moment she saw him, and she straightened, a small smile playing on her lips.
“Took you long enough,” she said, her voice soft but laced with a teasing edge.
“What are you doing here?” Y/n asked, stopping a few feet away. “You didn’t tell me you were coming.”
Choerry tilted her head, her smile widening. “Surprise,” she said simply, stepping closer. Her presence was magnetic, and Y/n found himself rooted to the spot. She reached out, brushing a strand of hair from his face, her touch lingering just a moment too long. “Did you miss me?”
He swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. “Of course I did. But why—”
“Let’s go inside,” she interrupted, taking his hand firmly in hers. Her grip was tight, almost possessive. “We have a lot to talk about.”
Before he could protest, she was pulling him toward the door, her heels clicking sharply against the pavement. Y/n followed, his mind racing. This wasn’t like her. Sure, Choerry had always been affectionate, but there was something different about her today. Something… off.
They entered the dorm, Choerry leading the way as if she knew exactly where they were going. When they reached his room, she turned to him, her expression unreadable. “Open it.”
Y/n fumbled with his keys, his hands trembling slightly under her gaze. The lock clicked, and Choerry pushed the door open, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. She glanced around the small space, her eyes narrowing as they landed on a pile of laundry in the corner—specifically, a pink scarf that definitely wasn’t his.
“Who’s been here?” she asked, her tone sharp.
“Uh, a friend,” Y/n stammered, shutting the door behind them. “Just someone from study group. It’s not—”
“A girl,” Choerry cut in, her voice low. She turned to face him, her eyes blazing with intensity. “I saw them, you know. All those girls hanging off you during class. Laughing at your jokes, touching your arm like they own you.”
“Choerry, it’s not like that,” Y/n said quickly, taking a step back. “They’re just friends. We’re all—”
“Friends?” she repeated, closing the distance between them. “Do they know how close we are? How much you mean to me?” Her hand shot out, gripping his chin and forcing him to look at her. “Do they know you’re mine?”
Y/n’s breath hitched, his heart pounding in his chest. The way she looked at him—like he was the only thing that mattered—sent a shiver down his spine. He wanted to pull away, to remind her that they were siblings, that this wasn’t right. But deep down, buried beneath layers of guilt and denial, there was a part of him that craved her attention. That needed it.
“Choerry…” he whispered, his voice barely audible.
She leaned in, her lips brushing against his ear. “You don’t need them,” she murmured, her breath hot against his skin. “You only need me. And I’ll make sure you never forget that.”
Before he could respond, her mouth was on his, claiming him with a fervor that left no room for resistance. Y/n froze for a moment, his mind screaming at him to stop this. But then her tongue brushed against his, and all rational thought evaporated. His hands found her waist, pulling her closer as he kissed her back with equal passion.
Choerry moaned softly into his mouth, her fingers tangling in his hair. She broke the kiss just long enough to whisper, “Good boy,” before pushing him toward the bed. He stumbled backward, falling onto the mattress as she climbed on top of him, her legs straddling his hips.
“Wait,” Y/n gasped, gripping her shoulders. “What are we doing? This is—”
“Shh,” she hushed him, placing a finger over his lips. “Don’t think. Just do it.” Her other hand trailed down his chest, slipping beneath his shirt to trace the lines of his abs. Y/n shivered, his resolve crumbling under her touch.
Choerry leaned down, her lips ghosting over his jawline as she undid the buttons of his shirt. “I’ve waited so long for this,” she admitted, her voice trembling with desire. “Watching you grow up, become a man… It drove me crazy.” She nipped at his neck, eliciting a sharp gasp from him. “But now you’re mine. And I’m going to make sure everyone knows it.”
Her words sent a jolt of heat straight to his groin. He tried to speak, to protest, but all that came out was a strangled moan as her hand dipped below his waistband, wrapping around his already hardened length.
“Look at you,” she purred, stroking him slowly. “So eager for me. Do you want me, Y/n? Do you want your big sister to take care of you?”
He nodded frantically, his hips bucking into her hand. “Yes,” he choked out, his voice thick with need. “Please…”
Choerry smiled, her eyes gleaming with triumph. “Good,” she said, releasing him to strip off her own clothes. Her movements were deliberate, each piece of fabric falling away to reveal more of her flawless body. Y/n watched, transfixed, as she stood before him completely bare, her confidence radiating like a flame.
She climbed back onto the bed, positioning herself above him once more. “Tell me you’re mine,” she demanded, her tone leaving no room for argument.
“I’m yours,” Y/n breathed, his hands reaching for her hips. “Only yours.”
“That’s right,” she whispered, lowering herself onto him inch by agonizing inch. They both groaned as she took him fully, her walls clenching around him in a way that felt utterly divine.
Choerry began to move, her rhythm slow but relentless. Each roll of her hips brought him closer to the edge, her name spilling from his lips like a prayer. She leaned down, capturing his mouth in another searing kiss as her pace quickened.
“Fuck,” Y/n moaned, his nails digging into her skin. “Choerry, I can’t—”
“Not yet,” she growled, pulling back to look him in the eye. “You’re going to fill me up, baby brother. Every last drop. You’re going to give me everything.”
Her words sent shockwaves through him, his orgasm building at an alarming rate. But Choerry was relentless, driving him mercilessly toward the brink.
Outside, the sounds of students laughing and chatting drifted in through the window. Inside, though, there was only the sound of skin meeting skin, of heavy breaths and muffled moans. And as Choerry cried out his name, her body trembling with ecstasy, Y/n realized there was no turning back.
“Cum inside me,” she begged, her voice breaking. “Make me yours forever.”
And with a final, shuddering thrust, he did.
Y/n lay there, trying to catch his breath, the weight of what had just happened still heavy in the air. Choerry’s body was pressed against his, her skin slick with sweat, her breathing ragged but far from spent. She propped herself up on one elbow, her dark eyes gleaming with a mixture of satisfaction and hunger as she looked down at him. Her fingers trailed lazily over his chest, tracing faint patterns that sent shivers through his already sensitive body.
”You thought we were done?” she murmured, her voice low and dripping with something dangerous. It wasn’t a question—it was a challenge. Her lips curled into a sly smile, and Y/n felt his heart skip a beat. He knew that look. He’d known it since they were kids, long before things between them had taken this… turn. It was the look that said she wasn’t going to stop until she got exactly what she wanted.
“Choerry…” he started, his voice shaky, but she cut him off with a sharp shake of her head.
”No,” she said firmly, her hand sliding lower, wrapping around him with a possessiveness that made his breath hitch. ”I told you, Y/n. I’m not leaving until you’ve filled me up completely. Until I’m full of you.” Her grip tightened, and he gasped, his hips jerking involuntarily. She smirked, clearly pleased with his reaction. ”You’re mine. And I’m not sharing. Not with anyone. Not ever.”
He wanted to protest, to tell her this was too much, too fast, but the words wouldn’t come. His body betrayed him, already hardening again under her touch, despite the exhaustion that clung to every muscle. Choerry noticed, of course, her smirk widening as she shifted her weight, straddling him once more. Her thighs squeezed lightly around his hips, pinning him in place as she leaned down, her lips brushing against his ear.
”Good boy,” she purred, her voice sending a jolt straight to his core. ”You know what I need, don’t you? You’re going to give it to me. Again. And again. Until there’s no doubt that you belong to me.”
Her words were like a spell, wrapping around him, pulling him deeper into her web. He couldn’t resist her—didn’t want to, if he was being honest with himself. There was something intoxicating about the way she demanded everything from him, the way she left no room for hesitation or doubt. She kissed him then, hard and insistent, her tongue claiming his mouth as though it, too, belonged to her.
When she pulled back, her hands moved quickly, guiding him inside her once more. The sensation was overwhelming, the heat and tightness of her making him groan into her neck. Choerry’s nails dug into his shoulders as she began to move, rocking her hips slowly at first, savoring the way he filled her. But it didn’t take long for her pace to quicken, her earlier restraint giving way to raw, unfiltered need.
“Faster,” she commanded, her voice breaking slightly as she tilted her head back, her hair spilling over her shoulders. “Don’t hold back. I want everyone to hear who you belong to.”
Y/n hesitated for a fraction of a second, his mind racing with the implications. The dorm walls were thin, and he could already hear the faint sounds of footsteps and laughter outside. If they got any louder, there’d be no hiding what was happening. But Choerry wasn’t having it. She grabbed his face, forcing him to look at her, her eyes blazing with intensity.
“Do it,” she hissed, her tone brooking no argument. “Or I’ll make you regret it.”
That was all the prompting he needed. With a growl of surrender, he gripped her hips tightly, thrusting up into her with a force that made her cry out. The sound echoed off the walls, loud enough to draw attention if anyone was close enough to hear. But neither of them cared anymore. The world outside their little bubble ceased to exist, narrowing down to the two of them and the primal rhythm of their bodies moving together.
Choerry’s moans grew louder, more desperate, each one punctuated by the slap of skin against skin. Her nails raked down his chest, leaving faint red marks in their wake, and he hissed at the sting, but it only spurred him on. He could feel her tightening around him, her body coiling like a spring, ready to snap.
“Cum,” she demanded, her voice trembling with barely restrained pleasure. “Cum inside me. I want it all. Every drop.”
Her words were like a spark igniting a fire within him. His thrusts became erratic, frantic, as he teetered on the edge. Choerry’s hands flew to her own stomach, pressing down as though she could already feel the life he might plant there. Her cries crescendoed, her back arching as she came undone, her nails digging into his biceps as she rode out the waves of ecstasy.
And then, with a guttural groan, Y/n followed her over the edge, his release flooding her as she clenched around him, milking him dry. For a moment, everything was still, save for the sound of their harsh breaths and the pounding of their hearts.
But the reprieve was short-lived. Before Y/n could even catch his breath, Choerry was moving again, her hands gripping his shoulders as she leaned down, her lips brushing against his ear.
”Again,” she whispered, her voice a mix of sweetness and steel. ”Until you can’t give me anything else.”
Y/n lay there, his chest heaving, every muscle in his body trembling from exhaustion. Choerry’s weight pressed down on him, warm and possessive, her breathing still ragged against his ear. Her lips curled into a satisfied smile as she trailed her fingers down his sweat-slicked chest.
“You did so well,” she murmured, her voice soft but laced with something darker, something that sent a shiver down his spine despite the heat of their shared exertion. “But we’re not done yet.”
Before Y/n could protest, she was off him, moving with practiced ease despite her own fatigue. He watched, still too dazed to react, as she rummaged through her bag, pulling out a length of silken rope. His eyes widened as she turned back to him, the look in her eyes one of pure, unbridled determination.
“Choerry, wha—” he started, but she cut him off with a finger pressed to his lips.
“Shh,” she cooed, leaning down to kiss him softly, almost tenderly. “Trust me, little brother. You’ll love this.”
Her words were honeyed, but there was no room for argument in them. Before he could muster a response, she had his wrists pinned above his head, tying them securely to the bedframe. The rope was soft but unyielding, and though it didn’t hurt, it left no doubt that he wasn’t going anywhere.
“Choerry…” he said again, his voice strained, a mix of apprehension and arousal tightening his chest.
She smirked, running her hands down his arms, her nails leaving faint trails along his skin. “Don’t worry,” she whispered, her breath hot against his neck. “I’ll take care of you.”
And then she began her slow, torturous descent, her lips brushing against his collarbone, his chest, his stomach. Every touch was deliberate, calculated to draw out every ounce of pleasure from his overstimulated body. By the time she reached his hips, he was squirming under her, his cock twitching against her thigh.
“Please,” he gasped, his voice breaking as she straddled him, her heat tantalizingly close but deliberately out of reach.
“Please what?” she teased, grinding herself against him just enough to make him groan but not enough to give him any real relief. “Use your words Properly, Y/n.”
He cursed under his breath, his hips bucking instinctively, but she held him down with a firm hand on his abdomen. “Let me… let me inside you,” he managed, his voice hoarse.
Choerry laughed, low and sultry, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “So eager,” she purred, shifting her weight just enough to let the tip of him brush against her folds. “Do you really think you can handle me again?”
The answer was evident in the way his body reacted, his cock stiffening impossibly further at the mere suggestion. But she didn’t give him a chance to respond, sinking onto him achingly slowly, drawing out every second until he thought he might go mad.
“Fuck,” he choked out, his hands clenching into fists against the ropes. She felt like heaven wrapped around him, tight and wet and perfect, and he couldn’t stop the involuntary thrust of his hips.
Choerry moaned, her head falling back as she began to move, her pace steady and unhurried. She took her time, savoring every inch of him, her hands roaming over his chest and shoulders as she rode him. The room filled with the slick sounds of their bodies joining, punctuated by their mingled breaths and the occasional creak of the bed.
“Feeling good?” she asked, her voice breathless but smug as she leaned forward, her breasts brushing against his chest.
He could only nod, his throat too tight to form words. His world had narrowed to the sensation of her around him, her warmth, her scent, the way she seemed to consume him entirely.
“Tell me,” she demanded, her hips rolling with deliberate slowness, drawing another strangled sound from him.
“It’s… amazing,” he managed, his voice barely a whisper. “You’re amazing.”
She smiled, pressing her forehead to his as she increased her pace, her movements becoming more urgent. “Good boy,” she murmured, her breath hitching as she neared her own peak. “Now fill me up.”
Her words tipped him over the edge, his release flooding her as she clenched around him, milking him dry once again. He cried out, his vision white with pleasure as she rode him through it, her own climax following hard on his heels.
When it was over, she collapsed onto his chest, her body trembling with the force of her orgasm. For a long moment, they lay there, tangled together, their heartbeats gradually slowing.
But even as he drifted toward sleep, Choerry’s voice pulled him back, soft but insistent. “One more,” she whispered, her lips brushing against his ear. “Just one more.”
Y/n groaned, his body protesting even as his cock gave a weak twitch. He was spent, utterly drained, but the look in her eyes told him she wouldn’t take no for an answer.
As dawn broke, Choerry sat on the edge of the bed, her hands cradling her stomach as she looked down at the small plastic stick clutched in her hand. A slow smile spread across her face, triumphant and possessive.
“Y/n,” she called softly, her voice carrying a note of glee.
He stirred, blinking blearily as he tried to focus on her. “What is it?” he mumbled, still half-asleep.
She turned to him, holding up the pregnancy test so he could see the result. His eyes widened, his breath catching in his throat as realization dawned.
“See?” she said, her voice dropping to a whisper as she leaned in, her lips brushing against his ear. “Told you we’d make the most beautiful babies together.”
Before he could respond, she kissed him, her tongue claiming his mouth as her hands wandered lower, her intentions clear.
The private elevator to your sanctum glides upward with a whisper, its mirrored walls reflecting four new pieces of art. You lean against the rail, your gaze a physical weight on their exposed skin.
Sana, with that ever-present, cheerful glint in her eye, now looks strained as she stares at her own reflection. Her little black dress is more suggestion than garment, the neckline plunging so deep the inner curves of her heavy tits threaten to spill free with every sharp breath she takes. Momo stands beside her, her dancer’s body poured into crimson silk that strains across her famous hips and chest. Her expression is one of bored disdain, but her knuckles are white where she grips her tiny clutch.
Miyeon looks like a porcelain doll dressed for ruin. A sheer, lace-trimmed top does nothing to conceal the dark circles of her areolas or the soft sway of her breasts beneath. Her long legs, showcased by a microscopic skirt, are crossed tightly, a defensive posture that only makes her look more like prey.
And then there is Eunbi.
Kwon Eunbi.
Her image from the Waterbomb festival—that legendary, drenched-white-t-shirt moment—is seared into your brain. Now, she stands before you in the flesh, wearing a tight, pearl-colored bodysuit that might as well be painted on. The fabric hugs every outrageous curve, the deep V-neck framing a cleavage so profound it seems to defy physics. The material is taut over the impossible swell of her tits, the peaks of her nipples visibly pressing against the thin fabric. Her face is a mask of cold, detached indifference, but her eyes, when they flick to yours in the mirror, hold a storm.
The doors open directly into your booth. The wall of sound from the club below hits them first—the relentless bass, the mingled screams and moans. Then, the sight.
The glass partition overlooks the main floor, a living diorama of pure debauchery. Naked and half-dressed bodies writhe under pulsating lights. A famous actress you recognize is on her knees between two male idols, her mascara running as she services them both. In a gilded cage suspended from the ceiling, another idol dances, her bare breasts swaying, as hands reach through the bars to grope and pinch.
“Holy shit,” Momo breathes, the bored mask cracking for a second.
Sana’s hand flies to her mouth. Miyeon takes an involuntary step back, bumping into Eunbi. Eunbi doesn’t move. Her eyes sweep the scene, her jaw tightening, but her gaze lingers. It lingers on the raw hunger, the shameless exchange of power, the utter freedom in the surrender.
You walk past them to the central lounge, pouring yourself a drink. You don’t offer them one. “Sit,” you say, not turning around.
They hesitate, a herd of elegant deer sensing the wolf. They settle on the plush couches, perching on the edges, their ridiculous outfits looking even more obscene in this den of consequence.
You turn, leaning against the bar. You let the silence stretch, let them feel the weight of the moans from below, let them see the proof of your absolute control over the world they thought they ruled. Your eyes land on Eunbi, and you don’t look away.
“You all signed very lucrative contracts,” you begin, your voice conversational. “Your agencies were very… persuaded by my terms. They gave you up so easily. Told you it was an exclusive, high-profile event. Told you to dress to impress.” You take a slow sip, your stare nailing Eunbi to her seat. “They didn’t tell you you were the entertainment.”
“What is this place?” Miyeon asks, her voice trembling.
“This is my place,” you answer, setting your glass down. The finality in your tone is absolute. “The Eyes of Eros. And here, you see the truth. All that fame, all that adoration… it’s just a shiny wrapper. Underneath, everyone is just meat. Just need. Just a set of holes begging to be used.”
You push off the bar and walk toward them. They shrink back. All except Eunbi. She watches you approach, her chest rising and falling faster, making the incredible bounty trapped in her bodysuit quiver with the motion.
You stop in front of her. You don’t touch her. Not yet.
“You. Kwon Eunbi.” You let her name hang in the air. “I saw you at Waterbomb. All that water on you. Clinging to that shirt. Those fucking tits on display for the whole country.” You shake your head, a mockery of awe. “You knew what you were doing. You were teasing an entire nation with these.” Your gaze drops, and it’s like a physical touch. The pearl-colored fabric strains. “You think that makes you powerful? That tease? It just makes you a fucking menu. It tells men like me exactly what we want to order.”
A flush creeps up her neck. It isn’t entirely shame.
“Stand up.”
She doesn’t move for a count of three. Then, with a grace that is pure defiance, she rises to her feet. She’s tall. Her body is a sinuous line, culminating in that staggering chest. You’re so close you can feel the heat radiating from her skin.
“All that dancing. All those cute concepts,” you murmur, your voice dropping so only she can hear. “You ever get tired of it? Ever just want someone to cut the bullshit? To look at you, at these,” your eyes drag over her breasts again, “and just take what he wants?”
Her breath catches—no, it stutters. A tiny, helpless sound.
“Answer me.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she whispers, but it’s weak. Her eyes are locked on yours, wide and dark.
“Liar.” You lift a hand, slowly. You don’t touch her skin. You run the back of your index finger down the valley of her cleavage, over the tense fabric. You feel the firm, heavy swell of her flesh beneath, the hard nub of her nipple against the silk. A full-body tremor runs through her. “You know. You’ve always known. This body wasn’t made for cute pop songs. It was made to be used. To be pinned down and fucked so hard you forget your own name. To be bred.”
The last word is a vile, delicious poison. Her lips part. She sways, almost imperceptibly.
On the couch, Sana is crying silently. Momo looks furious and fascinated. Miyeon stares, hypnotized.
“This fabric is in my way,” you say, your finger hooking under the thin strap on her shoulder. “Take it off.”
“No,” she breathes.
“It wasn’t a request.” Your voice doesn’t rise. It gets colder. “You belong to me. Every inch of you. Starting with these famous tits I paid so much for. Now. Take. It. Off.”
Her hands come up. They’re shaking. They fumble with the clasp at the back of her neck. The seal gives with a soft snap. She doesn’t let the bodysuit fall. She holds it to her chest, a last, pathetic shield.
You reach out and close your hand over both of hers. You squeeze, not gently. “Let go.”
Her fingers uncurl. The pearl-colored fabric slithers down her torso, pooling at her feet.
The air leaves the room.
Her breasts are… monumental. Full, heavy globes that defy gravity with a perfect, teardrop shape. They sit high and proud on her chest, the skin like pale silk, the areolas a dusky pink, already crinkled tight. The sight is so blatantly, outrageously sexual it feels like a punch. Your cock throbs in your pants.
“My god,” Momo whispers, the anger gone, replaced by pure shock.
You don’t look away from Eunbi. Her arms hang at her sides now. She makes no move to cover herself. Her face is flushed, her eyes bright with unshed tears and something else—a terrifying, thrilling shame. She is completely exposed, and the vulnerability is more powerful than any defiance.
You lean in, your lips a hair’s breadth from her ear. Your voice is a dark promise.
“Now the others get to see what I own. And then… then you’re going to get on your knees and show me how a real idol thanks her new Master.”
The silence after the bodysuit falls is profound, broken only by the relentless throb of music from below. Eunbi stands there, a statue of pale, trembling flesh, her magnificent tits on full display for the room. The other girls stare, their own breaths held. Sana’s tears have stopped, replaced by a shocked fascination. Momo’s eyes are locked on Eunbi’s chest, her mouth slightly open. Miyeon looks like she might faint.
You don’t let the moment linger. You take a step back and settle onto the plush, low-backed couch behind you. You spread your legs, the fabric of your pants tightening over your already-hard cock.
“You heard me,” you say, your voice cutting through the thick air. “Get on your knees and thank me.”
Eunbi’s eyes flash, a last spark of that cold fire. But her gaze drops to the obvious bulge in your pants, and that spark flickers, drowned in a wave of something darker, hotter. She doesn’t kneel. Not yet.
“No,” you correct yourself, a cruel smile touching your lips. “First, you’re going to dance. You’re going to give me a show with these famous fucking tits I just bought. Come here. Now.”
A tremor runs through her. She looks at the other girls, then back at you. The command is absolute, and the part of her that is already broken recognizes it. She takes one step, then another, until she’s standing between your spread knees. The heat from her body washes over you. The scent of her perfume, expensive and floral, mixes with the sharper note of her sweat and fear.
“Dance,” you order.
Her hands come up, hovering awkwardly at her sides. She sways, a hesitant, tiny movement of her hips. It’s pathetic. It’s nothing.
“You’ve danced for millions,” you sneer. “Dance for me. Or do I need to have your friends demonstrate what happens to idols who disobey?”
Her eyes dart to the glass partition, to the debauchery below. She sees the consequences. Her jaw tightens, and then, something shifts. The professional takes over. Her spine straightens. Her shoulders roll back, pushing her chest forward, making those heavy, perfect tits jut out. She starts to move.
It’s not a cute, idol dance. It’s slow. Sensual. A rolling grind of her hips that brings her closer, the outside of her thigh brushing against your inner leg. Her hands slide up her own body, over her flat stomach, until her palms cup the undersides of her breasts. She lifts them, presenting them to you, her thumbs brushing over her own stiff nipples. A soft, involuntary gasp escapes her lips.
“That’s it,” you murmur, your own voice rough. “Show me what you’ve been selling. Show me the goods.”
She closes her eyes, losing herself in the rhythm, in the shame of it. She turns, bending forward slightly, placing her hands on your thighs for balance as she grinds her ass in a slow circle. The view is insane. The full, round curves of her ass, the dip of her waist, and from this angle, the incredible, heavy hang of her tits as they sway with her motion. They’re so full, so weighty, the pale skin shimmering in the low light.
You reach out. You don’t grab her. You let your fingertips trail up the back of her thigh, over the swell of her ass. She flinches but doesn’t stop moving. “Good girl,” you say, and the praise makes her hips stutter. “Now come here. Sit.”
You pat your thigh. She stops dancing, her chest heaving. She looks at your lap, at the hard line of your cock straining against your pants. Slowly, she turns and lowers herself. She doesn’t sit beside you. She straddles your left thigh, her wet, hot cunt pressing against the fine fabric of your pants. The heat is immediate, shocking. She grinds down instinctively, a small, desperate motion.
“Not there,” you say, your hands finding her waist. You lift her easily, shifting her, until she’s straddling you, her knees on the couch on either side of your hips. Her soaked pussy is now directly over your clothed cock. The warmth seeps through. You can smell her arousal, a musky, sweet tang. “You’re already dripping, you desperate slut. All that attitude, and your cunt is weeping just from showing me your tits.”
She moans, a broken sound, and grinds down against you. The friction through the layers is maddening. For both of you.
“Fuck my leg,” you command, your hands moving to her tits. You finally touch them. Your palms engulf the soft, heavy flesh. They’re even more incredible in your hands—warm, silken, impossibly full. You squeeze, testing their weight, feeling them spill over your fingers. “God, these tits. They’re a fucking national treasure. And they’re mine. You’re going to fuck yourself on my thigh like the bitch in heat you are, and you’re going to let me play with my new toys.”
You pinch her nipples, hard, twisting them. She cries out, her back arching, her hips moving faster, fucking herself against your thigh in earnest now. The wet spot on your pants grows. The slick, filthy sound of her cunt rubbing against the fabric fills the space between you.
“Look at you,” you grunt, kneading her breasts, molding them like dough. “Kwon Eunbi. The idol. The fucking fantasy. Reduced to humping a gangster’s leg while he mauls your famous tits. You love it. Your tight little cunt is gripping nothing, begging for something real. Aren’t you?”
“Y-yes,” she whimpers, her head falling forward, her hair a curtain around her face.
“Yes, what?”
“Yes, Sir!” The title is torn from her, and with it comes a fresh gush of wetness against your leg.
You let her ride it for another minute, her movements becoming frantic, chasing a climax that’s just out of reach. Then you stop her, your hands gripping her hips hard. “Enough. You don’t get to come from that. Not yet.” You look past her heaving shoulders to the other three girls. “Pay attention. This is what happens to pride.”
You shift underneath her. With one hand on her back, you push her forward, guiding her up your body. “Up. Now.”
Confused, she moves, her knees walking up your torso. You recline further into the couch. “Keep going,” you snarl. “Until I say stop.”
Her eyes widen in understanding a second before her dripping cunt is hovering over your face. The scent of her is overwhelming—pure, unadulterated female arousal. You can see the glistening pink folds, swollen and needy.
“Sit,” you command.
She hesitates. The vulnerability is total. This is worse than being fucked. This is being consumed.
“I said, sit on my face, you stuck-up whore. Grind that famous pussy right into my mouth. Or do I need to ask your friend Sana if she wants to take your place?”
That gets her moving. She lowers herself, slowly, until the hot, wet heat of her cunt presses against your mouth. You don’t move. You let her feel the stillness, the anticipation. Then your tongue flicks out, a quick, blunt stroke right along her slit.
She jolts, a sharp cry ripping from her throat. Her hands fly to the couch back behind your head for balance.
“Fucking move,” you order, your voice muffled by her flesh.
She begins to rock, a tentative, shallow motion. You open your mouth, taking more of her, your tongue delving inside her, lapping at her juices. The taste is salty, musky, perfect. You suck on her clit, and her rhythm breaks, her hips stuttering.
“Oh, god… oh fuck…” she moans, the words tumbling out.
You grab her ass, your fingers digging into the soft flesh, and you pull her down harder against you. You eat her with a crude, relentless hunger, your tongue fucking in and out of her hole before swirling around her clit. The sounds are obscene—wet, sloppy, greedy. Her moans rise in pitch, becoming screams that mix with the club’s bass.
“You taste like a fucking cheap slut,” you growl, pulling back for a second. “All that elegance, and your cunt tastes like a back-alley fuck. Now grind. Make yourself come on my tongue, you breeding cow.”
Sobbing, she obeys. She rides your face in earnest now, her hips finding a frantic, circular grind that smears her wetness over your chin, your nose. You let her use you, your tongue a relentless instrument against her most sensitive spots. You feel her inner muscles start to flutter, tighten.
“That’s it… you perfect, filthy idol,” you praise, the words vibrating against her clit. “Your fucking cunt is about to drown me. Do it. Come for me. Show your friends how a real star falls apart.”
The command is the final key. Her body locks up, rigid. A shattered, screaming wail tears from her lungs as her orgasm detonates. Her cunt convulses, gripping at nothing, pouring a flood of her release into your waiting mouth. You drink her down, holding her tight against you as she shakes and writhes, her famous tits bouncing wildly with each violent tremor.
As the last pulses fade, she collapses forward, catching herself on her hands, her body draped over yours, spent and trembling. You tilt your head up, your lips brushing her inner thigh.
You look past her at Sana, Momo, and Miyeon. Their faces are masks of shock, horror, and a dark, undeniable arousal.
“Who’s next?”
The scent of Eunbi’s climax hangs thick in the air, mixed with the distant perfume of sin from below. You let her lie draped over you for a long second, her heavy tits pressed against your chest, her breathing ragged. Then you look past her trembling form. Your eyes land on Miyeon.
She looks like a shattered doll, her porcelain face pale, her long legs glued together under that microscopic skirt. Her sheer top does nothing to hide the frantic beat of her heart beneath her soft, small breasts.
“You,” you say, your voice cutting through her daze. “Miyeon. Get over here.”
She flinches. Her gaze darts to Eunbi, then back to you. She doesn’t move.
“Now,” you snap, and the word is a whip-crack.
She stumbles to her feet, her movements jerky. She stops a few feet away, her hands clasped in front of her like a schoolgirl.
“That’s a cute top,” you muse, your voice deceptively soft. “It’s in my way. Take it off. The skirt too. Everything. I want to see what I own.”
Tears well in her eyes, but her fingers, trembling, find the hem of the sheer fabric. She pulls it up and over her head, revealing breasts that are indeed soft and full, with pale pink nipples already peaked tight from fear and the room’s charged air. The skirt follows, pooling at her feet. She stands naked, her body a delicate, slender line, her arms instinctively moving to cover herself.
“Hands at your sides,” you command, your tone leaving no room for argument.
She drops her arms, exposing herself completely. A soft, choked sob escapes her.
You gently push Eunbi off you. She slides to the floor beside the couch, limp, her eyes glazed. You sit up, adjusting your pants, the fabric tented obscenely. You pat the space on the couch next to you. “Come here. Kneel.”
Miyeon approaches as if walking to her own execution. She sinks to her knees on the plush carpet between your spread legs. Her face is level with your cock.
“Eunbi,” you say, not looking at her. “Get up. Join her. You’re not done.”
With a visible effort, Eunbi pushes herself up. She moves to Miyeon’s side, also kneeling. The contrast is stunning—Eunbi’ staggering, heavy curves next to Miyeon’s delicate slenderness. Both sets of tits are on full display for you, Eunbi’s massive and weighty, Miyeon’s softer, smaller, but just as tempting.
“You’re both going to please me,” you state. “Miyeon, you take the head. Be careful with your teeth. Eunbi, you take the shaft. Use those famous fucking tits of yours. Now.”
Miyeon stares at the bulge in your pants, her expression one of pure terror. Eunbi, however, moves with a strange, broken efficiency. Her hands come up to your waistband, unbuttoning your pants, pulling down the zipper. She frees your cock, already thick and flushed with need. The sight makes Miyeon gasp.
“Go on,” you urge Miyeon, your hand coming to rest on the back of her head. “Open that pretty mouth.”
She leans forward, her lips parting. You guide yourself to her, pushing the head past her lips. Her mouth is hot, tight, and incredibly hesitant. She gags immediately, pulling back.
You laugh, a low, dark sound. “Easy, little doll. Just the tip for now. Get it wet for me.” You look at Eunbi. “You. Get to work.”
Eunbi doesn’t need to be told twice. She leans in, taking the thick base of your shaft in both hands. She guides it between her massive breasts, pressing them together around you. The feeling is insane—soft, warm, overwhelming pressure. She begins to move, sliding your cock up and down the deep, silken valley she’s created. Her tits are so heavy, so full, they engulf you completely.
“Fuck yes,” you groan, your head falling back. “That’s it. Milk my cock with those fat fucking udders. You were born for this, you breeding cow.”
You force Miyeon’s head down again, feeding her another inch. She gags, tears streaming down her cheeks, but this time she doesn’t pull away. Her tongue flutters weakly against your underside.
“Good girls,” you praise, the words a vile contrast to the scene. “My perfect little whores. A delicate fuckdoll and a big-titted cocksleeve. Suck it, Miyeon. Don’t just sit there.”
You start to move your hips, fucking gently into Miyeon’s mouth while Eunbi works your shaft with her tits. The wet, sloppy sounds of Miyeon’s mouth and the soft, slick friction of Eunbi’s breasts create a symphony of depravity. You glance over at the other two.
Sana is staring, her cheerful mask completely gone. Her hand is buried under the hem of her little black dress, between her own legs. Her hips are making tiny, desperate circles on the couch cushion. You can see the frantic movement of her wrist.
Momo sees it too. She leans over, her face a storm of conflict. “Sana,” she hisses, her voice low and sharp. “What are you doing?”
Sana doesn’t even look at her. Her eyes are glued to the sight of her fellow idols servicing you. A low, shuddering moan escapes her lips. “I… I can’t…”
“It’s… it’s so… oh god…” Sana moans again, louder. Her other hand comes up to grope one of her own heavy breasts, spilling from her dress. Her fingers pinch her nipple through the fabric. Her trembling hand between her legs works faster, the wet sounds now audible even over the club’s bass.
You laugh, a full, rich sound of absolute power. “Look at that, Eunbi. Look at Miyeon. Your friend Sana is so turned on watching you be whores that she’s fingering her own soaked cunt right there on the couch.” You thrust a little deeper into Miyeon’s mouth, making her choke. “You see that? That’s what you do to people. You’re not idols. You’re pornography. You make good girls into desperate sluts just by existing.”
Eunbi moans, increasing her pace, her tits squeezing you tighter. Miyeon, her eyes streaming, somehow finds a rhythm, bobbing her head, taking you deeper with each pass. Her innocence is being fucked away with every stroke of your cock down her throat.
“You’re a natural, Miyeon,” you grunt, your hand fisting in her hair. “Such a tight, pretty little mouth. Born to suck cock. And you, Eunbi… fuck… these tits should be registered as lethal weapons. You’re going to make me blow my load just from your tits, you perfect fuck-toy.”
You watch Sana unravel. Her back arches, her mouth opens in a silent scream as she pleasures herself, utterly consumed by the spectacle. Momo watches, her own breathing shallow, her dancer’s body tense. The defiance in her eyes is warring with a deep, hungry curiosity.
“You like watching, Momo?” you ask, your voice thick with lust. “You like seeing your friends reduced to cock-worshipping animals? Your turn is coming. But first…”
You pull Miyeon off your cock with a wet pop. A string of saliva connects her lips to the tip. “Switch,” you command. “Eunbi, open up. Take it deep. Miyeon, your tits aren’t as big, but I want to feel them. Now.”
They scramble to obey, their movements clumsy with desperation. Eunbi takes you into her mouth, her lips stretching wide around your girth. She takes you deeper in one go than Miyeon ever could, her throat working around you. God, she’s good. Miyeon positions your slick shaft between her smaller, softer breasts, pressing them together, mimicking what she saw.
“That’s it,” you praise, your voice ragged. “You filthy, perfect cocksuckers. My personal set of fuck-toys. You’re going to drain my balls dry. You’re going to swallow every last drop of the cum I’m going to pump into your friend’s mouth. And then, maybe, I’ll let Sana come over here and clean you both up.”
Sana’s low moan cracks into a sharp cry. Her hand snatches out from under her dress, glistening wet. She doesn’t look at Momo. She doesn’t look at anyone. Her eyes are fixed on your cock, slick from two mouths and two sets of tits, standing thick and demanding in the open air.
“I can’t… I can’t just watch,” she whimpers, the words raw and desperate.
You don’t smile. You simply shift your gaze to her. “Then don’t.”
It’s all the permission she needs. She scrambles off the couch, her little black dress hiking up around her thighs. She stumbles on her heels, kicks them off, and falls to her knees beside Eunbi and Miyeon. The three of them form a perfect, obscene triangle around your cock. Sana’s cheerful face is now a mask of pure, hungry need. Her heavy tits strain against the neckline of her dress as she leans forward, her tongue darting out to lap at the underside of your shaft where Miyeon’s smaller breasts had been.
“Good girl,” you rumble. “So fucking eager. You were aching for this, weren’t you? Watching made your cunt weep.”
“Yes,” Sana breathes, the word a hot puff against your skin before she opens her mouth wide and takes the head inside. Her lips stretch, a perfect ‘O’. She moans around you, the vibration traveling straight to your balls.
Momo makes a choked sound from the couch. “Sana… no.”
You ignore her. You watch Sana suck, her technique messy and frantic, all hunger and no finesse. It’s better than any practiced idol performance. Eunbi, seeing her chance, leans back in, capturing your shaft between her tits again, working in tandem with Sana’s mouth. Miyeon, not to be left out, kisses and licks along your inner thigh, her delicate fingers wrapping around the base to stroke what isn’t being used.
The sensation is overwhelming. Wet, hot, silken pressure from every angle. You let your head fall back for a moment, a deep groan pulled from your chest. Then you lift it, your eyes finding Momo.
She is rigid on the couch, her knuckles white where she grips the cushion. Her expression is shattered—disbelief, fury, horror, and beneath it all, a fascination so deep it hurts to see. Her dancer’s body is coiled tight, every muscle defined against the crimson silk.
You lift your hand. You crook a single finger, beckoning her.
She shakes her head, a tiny, defiant motion.
You let your hand fall to Sana’s head, guiding her deeper onto your cock. Sana gags, but takes it, her eyes watering as she looks up at you with utter devotion. “Come on now, Momo,” you say, your voice deceptively calm amidst the wet, sucking sounds. “You’re still fighting? Not being yourself?” You gently caress Sana’s cheek with your thumb, feeling the stretch of her lips around you. “Don’t fight it. You were always supposed to be here. To pleasure me. Just like your friends here.”
Eunbi increases her pace, her massive tits gliding up and down your length, smearing pre-cum and saliva over her pale skin. Miyeon nuzzles your balls, her soft whimpers joining the chorus.
“Look at them,” you command Momo, your voice dropping, becoming intimate, hypnotic. “They’ve found where they belong. They’re not hungry anymore. They’re fed. Surrender yourself to me, Hirai Momo. And I will make sure you would never feel hungry again.”
Momo’s breath comes in short, sharp pants. Her chest heaves, making the silk over her own famous tits tremble.
“Kneel down,” you whisper, the command a velvet-wrapped threat. “Walk to me like a good pet. Let me pleasure your cock and make you mine. Feel my hot, warm seed in you. Don’t you want it?”
Her eyes are locked on yours. The defiance crumbles, not in a crash, but in a slow, agonizing dissolution. It’s in the way her grip on the cushion loosens. In the way her tongue darts out to wet her lips. In the dark, desperate dilation of her pupils.
She swallows hard, the sound audible in the brief quiet between Sana’s slurps.
Slowly, as if moving through deep water, Momo pushes herself off the couch. She doesn’t stand. She sinks to her own knees on the plush carpet. Her eyes never leave yours. Then, with a grace that is both defeat and awakening, she lowers herself onto her hands and knees.
She crawls.
The crimson silk dress drags on the floor. The sight is unimaginably lewd—the proud, fierce Momk of TWICE, reduced to a pet crawling across a room thick with sex. She moves with a dancer’s control, each movement deliberate, bringing her closer to the tangled nest of her friends and your cock.
She stops when she reaches your legs. She doesn’t look at the others. She looks up at you, her fierce eyes now wide, vulnerable, pleading.
You reach down, offering her your hand. Not to pull her up. You present your index finger to her lips.
“Lick,” you order.
She closes her eyes. A single tear escapes, tracing a path down her cheek. Then she leans forward, her tongue—hot and soft—sliding along the length of your finger from knuckle to tip. She cleans the salt and sweat from your skin, her mouth closing briefly around the tip to suck it clean.
A dark, satisfied laugh rumbles in your chest. “Good pet.” You withdraw your hand and bring it down in a sharp, stinging slap on the round, thick curve of her ass where the silk is stretched taut.
She gasps, the sound broken, needy. The slap echoes, leaving a faint pink handprint.
“Again,” she whispers, the word so quiet you almost miss it.
“What was that?”
“Again,” Momo says, louder, her voice cracking with desire. “Please, Sir. Again.”
You oblige. Another slap, harder this time, on the other cheek. She moans, pushing her ass back into the strike, her body trembling. The last of her resistance evaporates, melting into the heat of her own submission.
“Now,” you say, your voice thick with lust as you look at the four idols serving you. “Make some room for your friend. Let’s see what this fierce little dancer can really do with that mouth.”
Sana pulls off your cock with a wet gasp, panting. Eunbi releases your shaft from between her tits. They part, creating a space directly in front of you. Momo, still on her hands and knees, shuffles forward until her face is inches from your throbbing cock. The head glistens, wet from three different mouths, and taps against her parted lips.
“Open wide, Momo,” you murmur, guiding yourself to her. “Show me you’re the best slut of them all.”
Momo’s eyes are fixed on yours, dark and surrendered, as she opens her mouth. You don’t wait. You push your cock past her lips, feeling the tight, hot ring of her throat welcome the head. You feed her another inch, then another. Her eyes water instantly, a tear tracking through her mascara. She gags, a wet, choked sound that vibrates through your shaft.
“That’s it,” you grunt, your hand fisting in her dark hair. “Take it deep, you defiant little bitch. Show me how hungry you really are.”
She tries to nod, her throat working convulsively around you. She forces herself to relax, to take you deeper, until her nose is buried in the coarse hair at your base. Her gagging is constant now, a messy, desperate music.
You look at Eunbi and Sana, still kneeling beside her. “Don’t just watch. Make her feel good. Lick her nipples. Get them nice and hard for me.”
They scramble to obey. Eunbi, with her monumental tits, leans over Momo’s shoulder, her tongue snaking out to lap at one peaked brown nipple. Sana, ever-eager, dives for the other, taking it into her mouth and sucking hard. Momo’s body jolts, a muffled scream trapped around your cock. The vibrations are exquisite.
At the same time, Miyeon slides onto the couch beside you. Her delicate hands frame your face. “Let me, Sir,” she whispers, her voice trembling not with fear now, but with a shaky desire. She presses her soft, plush lips to yours. You open for her, and her tongue slips inside, timid at first, then with growing hunger. She tastes of expensive champagne and sweet, girlish desperation. You kiss her back, dominating her mouth, your tongue tangling with hers as Momo gags on your cock below.
The sensations collide—the tight, sucking heat of Momo’s throat, the twin points of wet, rhythmic attention on her nipples, the soft, yielding sweetness of Miyeon’s kiss. You groan into Miyeon’s mouth, your hips giving a shallow thrust, fucking deeper into Momo’s face. She takes it, her hands coming up to clutch weakly at your thighs.
You break the kiss with Miyeon, a string of saliva connecting you. “Look at her,” you tell Miyeon, your voice rough. “Look at your proud friend. She’s a natural fucking cocksleeve.”
Momo’s eyes are rolling back, her body shaking as she struggles to breathe, to please. You pull back, letting her gasp in a ragged, wet breath before pushing back in, fucking her mouth in a steady, punishing rhythm.
“You were born for this, Momo,” you snarl, the degradation laced with vile praise. “All that dance training, just to learn how to deep-throat a real cock. You’re a fucking masterpiece of submission.”
She moans around you, the sound broken and full of shocking pleasure. Her hunger shifts. It’s no longer about proving herself. It’s a raw, physical need. With a frantic movement, she reaches down, hooks her fingers into the side of her crimson silk panties, and tears them aside. The delicate fabric shreds, revealing her bare, glistening cunt.
She scrambles back off your cock, gasping, saliva slicking her chin. Without a word, she climbs onto the couch, straddles your hips, and positions herself over you. Her eyes are wild, consumed.
“You want it that bad?” you laugh, gripping her waist.
She doesn’t answer. She sinks down, impaling herself on your thick length in one slow, agonizing slide. Her head falls back, a raw, guttural cry tearing from her throat as she takes you to the hilt. She’s impossibly tight, wet, and clenching around you like a vise.
Sana giggles from the floor, a sound of pure, delighted wickedness. “She can’t help it,” Sana coos, crawling forward on her knees. “She’s completely yours now.” Sana ducks her head between your spread legs, her tongue flattening against your balls. She licks a long, slow stripe from the base of your sack up the underside of your shaft, which is buried deep inside Momo.
The added sensation makes you curse. Momo begins to move, riding you with a dancer’s innate rhythm, her hips rolling in smooth, desperate circles. Her tits, confined in the crimson silk, bounce with every lift and fall.
Eunbi and Miyeon watch for a second, a flash of naked jealousy crossing their features. They don’t want to be left out. Eunbi moves to your side, her hands sliding over your shoulders. She leans in, capturing your lips, her kiss hungry and experienced. Miyeon, not to be outdone, nuzzles against your neck, placing open-mouthed kisses along your jawline, your throat, worshipping your skin with her lips and tongue.
You are engulfed. Momo’s cunt is a slick, gripping heaven, milking your cock with each downward stroke. Sana’s tongue is a devil on your balls, licking and suckling. Eunbi’s tongue is in your mouth, and Miyeon’s lips are on your neck. The air is pure sound—slapping flesh, wet sucks, guttural moans, and Sana’s happy, filthy giggles.
“You feel that, Momo?” you manage against Eunbi’s mouth. “You feel my cock stretching your pretty idol cunt? I’m going to breed you so deep. I’m going to pump my cum right into your womb and see if it takes. Would you like that? To be my pregnant little fuck-pet?”
She cries out, her rhythm faltering. “Yes! Please!”
“You’re such a good slut for it,” you praise, your hands squeezing her ass, helping her ride you harder. “Your perfect cunt was made to be filled. To be bred. Now fuck me like you mean it. Take what’s yours.”
She obeys, her movements turning frantic, slamming herself down onto you with a force that shakes the couch. Sana increases her pace, slurping at your balls, her fingers digging into your thighs.
Eunbi breaks the kiss, panting. “Let me taste her, Sir,” she begs, her eyes on Momo’s bouncing chest. “Let me taste her on you.” Before you can answer, she dips her head, capturing one of Momo’s silk-covered nipples in her mouth, biting down through the fabric.
Momo screams, her body bowing, her cunt clamping down on you in a series of violent spasms. She’s close. So are you.
“Look at her,” you command Miyeon, who is still kissing your neck. “Look at your friend coming apart on my cock. You want your turn? You want me to ruin you next?”
Miyeon whimpers, her kisses becoming more frantic. “Please, Sir. Please.”
The pressure coils, tight and unbearable, at the base of your spine. Momo is sobbing, riding you through her climax, her body trembling in ecstasy.
The sound that tears from Momo’s throat is pure, shattered bliss as her climax rips through her. Her cunt convulses around you in a wet, rhythmic vise, milking your cock deep inside her. You let her ride it out for three punishing seconds, feeling her body shake and spasm. Then, with a grunt, you grip her hips and lift, pulling her off your cock in one swift, brutal motion.
She collapses to the side on the couch, a limp, gasping mess, her body still trembling with aftershocks. Your cock springs free, glistening with her juices, thick and angry and unsatisfied.
Your eyes find Sana, who is still crouched between your legs, her tongue paused against your balls, her face upturned like a flower seeking the sun.
“Up,” you command, your voice a low rasp. “Take her place. Now.”
Sana doesn’t need telling twice. A wild, joyful grin spreads across her face. She scrambles up, her little black dress hiking up to her waist. She doesn’t bother to take it off. She simply straddles you where Momo just was, her own wetness already soaking through the black lace of her panties, a dark patch against the fabric. She guides you to her, positioning the head of your cock at her entrance. She looks you dead in the eye, her playful mask gone, replaced by a raw, desperate hunger.
“Watch, Momo,” you say, your gaze shifting to the wrecked idol beside you. “Watch what happens when a slut knows her place.”
You thrust up as Sana sinks down. The lace of her panties tears as your cock spears through it, burying itself in her tight, dripping cunt in one smooth, deep stroke. Sana’s head snaps back, her mouth open in a silent scream of pure ecstasy before a loud, guttural “FUCK!” tears loose.
She’s different from Momo. Where Momo was all fierce, athletic control, Sana is pure, unbridled enthusiasm. She bounces on you immediately, a frantic, rising rhythm, her heavy tits straining against the dress’s fabric with each downward plunge. The sound of flesh slapping flesh fills the booth, loud and obscene.
“Look at her, Momo,” you growl, your hands gripping Sana’s bouncing ass, helping her impale herself on you again and again. “See how eager she is? She’s not fighting it. She’s celebrating. She knows this cunt was built for one thing.” You drive up into her, feeling her walls clench. “For taking my fucking cock. For being bred.”
Sana moans, a continuous, high-pitched stream of sound. “Yes! Breed me! Please, Sir, fill me up! I want it! I want your cum so deep!”
You glance at Eunbi and Miyeon, who are watching, their faces flushed with arousal and a sharp, competitive jealousy. “You two,” you snap. “Don’t just stand there. Make yourselves useful. Get on the floor. Pleasure each other. Let me see how good my little whores are at eating cunt.”
They move instantly, a tangle of limbs and silk. Eunbi, with her monumental curves, lays back on the plush carpet, her legs falling open, revealing her glistening, swollen folds. Miyeon, her porcelain doll’s face set with a newfound determination, kneels between Eunbi’s thighs. She hesitates for only a second, her eyes flicking to you, before she lowers her head and presses her mouth to Eunbi’s cunt.
Eunbi’s back arches off the floor, a sharp cry escaping her. Miyeon’s delicate fingers part Eunbi’s lips, and her tongue delves inside, licking and sucking with a fervor that belies her fragile appearance.
The scene is complete. Sana rides you like a woman possessed, her cries harmonizing with Eunbi’s moans and the wet, lapping sounds from the floor. Momo watches, her breath hitching, her hand drifting unconsciously to her own wetness, her eyes wide with a complex cocktail of shame, envy, and undeniable arousal.
“That’s it, Sana,” you praise, your own control fraying at the edges. Her cunt is a hot, slick paradise, gripping you perfectly with every descent. “You perfect, hungry slut. You feel how deep I am? I’m touching your fucking womb. You feel that?”
“I feel it!” she sobs, her rhythm becoming erratic, wild. “Oh god, I feel you everywhere!”
“You want my seed?” you snarl, sitting up slightly to bite at the bouncing curve of her tit through the dress. “You want me to pump your idol womb full of my cum? To knock you up and ruin that perfect career forever?”
“Yes! Fuck, yes! Ruin me! Breed me! Make me yours!” she screams, her body tightening, her climax coiling at the base of her spine.
On the floor, Eunbi is coming, her hips bucking against Miyeon’s face, her cries muffled by her own hand clamped over her mouth. Miyeon drinks from her, her own body writhing, one hand sneaking between her own slender thighs to rub frantic circles.
It’s too much. The visual, the sounds, the feeling of Sana’s desperate, clenching heat. The pressure in your balls snaps.
“Take it!” you roar, slamming her down onto you and holding her there, buried to the hilt. Your cock jerks violently inside her, and you empty yourself, a hot, thick flood of cum erupting deep into her cunt. You pump pulse after pulse into her, claiming her, breeding her, just as you promised.
Sana shatters. Her body seizes, her cunt milking your cock in frantic, rhythmic spasms, trying to pull every last drop from you. She collapses forward onto your chest, sobbing, her entire body trembling with the force of her orgasm and the profound, physical reality of being filled.
For a long moment, the only sounds are ragged breathing and wet, dripping flesh. You gently push Sana off to the side. She slumps next to Momo, a dazed, cum-filled smile on her face.
Your cock, still semi-hard and slick with a mixture of her juices and your own release, gleams in the low light. You look at Eunbi and Miyeon, who have paused, their faces wet, watching you.
“You’re not done,” you say, your voice dangerously calm. “Miyeon. On the couch. Now. Legs open. I want to see that pretty, tight little cunt. You’ve earned your turn.”
Miyeon scrambles up from the floor, her eyes wide. She takes Sana’s place straddling you, but you stop her.
“Not like that. Lie back. Put your ankles on my shoulders.”
She obeys, her slender body trembling as she reclines on the couch, lifting her legs. The position opens her completely, exposing her delicate, pink folds, already glistening from watching, from tasting Eunbi. You position yourself at her entrance, the head of your cock nudging against her, smearing Sana’s and your combined wetness onto her.
“You watched me fill your friend,” you whisper, pushing forward, stretching her incredibly tight, virgin-like passage. She cries out, a sharp sound of pleasure-pain. “You saw me breed her. Now it’s your turn. I’m going to pump this cunt so full of cum it’ll drip out of you for days. I’m going to put a baby in you, you delicate little fuck-doll. You want that?”
Tears stream from the corners of her eyes. “Yes, Sir,” she whimpers. “Please. I want it. I want your baby.”
You drive into her, burying yourself in her tight, clutching heat. She’s smaller than the others, tighter, and the feeling is exquisite. You set a brutal, pounding rhythm, fucking up into her with deep, claiming strokes. Her cries are high and broken, her hands clutching at the couch cushions.
Eunbi crawls over, kneeling beside the couch. She doesn’t ask for permission. She leans down and captures Miyeon’s mouth in a deep, hungry kiss, swallowing her moans. Sana watches, her hand idly stroking her own cum-filled stomach. Momo watches, her defiance utterly gone, replaced by a deep, aching need.
You’re close again, fueled by the sheer decadence of it all. “You feel me, Miyeon?” you grunt, your pace becoming punishing. “You feel my cock in your womb? This is where you belong. Pinned and bred. My personal breeding slut.”
She can only nod, her body convulsing beneath you, her second climax triggered by the words, by the deep, invasive thrusts. Her cunt flutters around you, a sweet, tight massage.
With a final, deep snarl, you shove into her as hard as you can, your cock pulsing, releasing another hot flood deep into her clutching channel. You coat her insides, claiming her just as thoroughly as you did Sana. You hold there, grinding against her, making sure every drop is deposited as deep as it can go.
When you finally pull out, a thick trickle of white immediately seeps from her well-used opening onto the couch. She lies there, wrecked, her eyes unfocused, a soft smile on her lips.
You stand, your cock finally softening, glistening with the evidence of your work. You look at the four idols—two freshly bred, one used and broken, one still waiting, her eyes dark with unsated hunger.
“Well, Momo,” you say, your voice cutting through the heavy silence. “You watched. You saw what happens to good sluts. Now, the question is… Are you a good one"?
Momo’s breath catches, a wet, broken sound. Her eyes, still glazed from her earlier climax, fix on yours with a terrifying clarity. The defiance is gone, burned away in the heat of watching two of her friends be bred on the same couch where she’d just come apart.
“I’m a good slut, Sir,” she whispers, the words raw. “Please… reward me.”
You don’t smile. You lean forward, your movement lazy, deliberate. Your open palm connects with her cheek in a sharp, stinging crack that echoes in the thick air.
Her head snaps to the side. A bright pink bloom appears on her pale skin. She doesn’t cry out. She turns her face back to you, her dark eyes wide, her lips parted. A soft, shuddering sigh escapes her.
“That’s your reward,” you say, your voice low. “Pain for my pleasure.”
Your hand strikes again, the other cheek this time. Then your gaze sweeps over the others. Sana, still dazed and smiling, cum leaking from her onto the couch. Eunbi, kneeling on the floor, her monumental tits heaving. Miyeon, limp and freshly filled beside Momo.
“All of you. On your knees. Surround me.”
They move, a rustle of torn silk and shaky limbs. They form a loose circle around where you stand, four famous idols on their knees, their faces upturned, skin flushed, bodies marked with sweat and sex and your cum.
You start with Eunbi. Your hand comes down on the full, heavy curve of her ass where she kneels, a loud, meaty smack that makes her jolt forward. A choked moan slips out. You spank her again, watching the pale flesh redden instantly, your handprint rising in angry welts. “Such a fat, greedy ass,” you muse, delivering another slap. “Built for this. For taking a beating.”
You turn to Miyeon. She flinches as your hand descends on her slender backside. The slap is sharper, louder against her smaller frame. She yelps, a high, girlish sound, but pushes her ass back, presenting herself for more. “Even you, you delicate little doll,” you snarl, spanking her until her cheeks are a uniform, fiery red. “You crave it. You want to be ruined.”
Sana is next. She giggles when your hand connects, the sound bubbling up through her arousal. You spank her harder, the blows turning her playful squeals into genuine, breathless cries. Her heavy tits sway with each impact. “My eager little whore,” you grunt, punishing her ass until it matches the others. “You love anything I give you, don’t you?”
Finally, you return to Momo. Her eyes have never left you. You bring your hand down across her toned, dancer’s ass, once, twice, three times in rapid succession. The sound is percussive, final. Each slap makes her whole body tense, a tremor running through her. She doesn’t make a sound, but her breathing is ragged, her cunt visibly glistening, dripping onto her thighs.
The room smells of sweat, sex, and the sharp, clean scent of punished flesh. Four pairs of ass cheeks glow a uniform, painful beet-red.
“Good,” you purr, your own arousal a hard, renewed ache. You step back, reaching towards a small, discreet cabinet built into the booth’s wall. Your fingers close around a handle. You pull out a long, thin case.
You open it on the low table beside the couch. Inside, on a bed of black velvet, rests a branding iron. Its handle is wrapped in leather. The business end is a simple, elegant design: three capital letters in a sleek, modern font. NeS.
Neo Ero Slut.
You lift it. The metal is cold, heavy. You walk to a wall panel, press a button. A small, industrial heating element slides out from a hidden compartment. You hold the brand over it. The girls watch, silent, mesmerized. The iron begins to glow, a dull red, then a bright, cherry orange. The air warps around it.
You turn back to your circle of sluts. The heat radiates from the metal in waves.
“From now on,” you say, your voice filling the space, “you’re a NeS slut. My slut. This mark is forever. It means you belong to the Neo Eros. It means your famous cunts are mine to use, to breed, to rent out. It means you are property.”
You approach Eunbi first. Her eyes are wide, fixed on the glowing brand. “Present your tit,” you command. “The left one. Hold it up for me.”
Trembling, she cups her massive breast, lifting the heavy weight, offering the soft, pale skin just above her dark areola. You bring the brand closer. She can feel the heat on her skin now. She whimpers.
“You were born for this, Eunbi,” you say, the degradation smooth as oil. “This monumental tit, this celebrity chest… it’s just a branding plate now. The only thing it’s good for is marking who owns it.”
You press the glowing metal against her skin.
The sound is a sickening, wet hiss. The smell of burning flesh, acrid and specific, mixes with the perfume of the room. Eunbi screams, a raw, torn sound, her body arching, but she doesn’t pull away. She holds her tit steady, her knuckles white. After three eternal seconds, you pull the brand back.
On the plump, perfect curve of her breast, the letters NeS are seared into a perfect, angry pink, the edges already beginning to blister. A permanent tattoo of ownership.
She sobs, her body shaking, but her other hand drifts between her legs, fingers sliding through her wetness. Aroused by her own ruin.
Miyeon is next. She’s crying before you even reach her. “Please… Sir…”
“The same place,” you order. She’s smaller, her breast a soft handful. The brand looks huge against her. You press it home. Her scream is higher, more shattered. The sizzle seems louder. When you withdraw, the mark stands in stark, violent contrast against her porcelain skin. She collapses forward, forehead to the carpet, weeping, but her hips grind minutely against nothing. Hungry for it.
Sana meets your eyes as you turn to her. There’s no fear. Just a dark, feverish excitement. “Make me yours, Sir,” she breathes, hefting her own heavy breast.
You brand her. She doesn’t scream. She lets out a long, guttural moan, her head falling back, her body convulsing in what looks like a dry orgasm. The mark takes hold on her skin, and she laughs, a shaky, blissful sound. “Thank you,” she slurs. “Thank you.”
Finally, Momo. She is stillness itself. You kneel before her. “You asked for a reward,” you remind her, bringing the glowing iron up between you. Its light reflects in her pupils. “This is it. The ultimate reward. To be marked as mine. Forever.”
You don’t have to tell her to present herself. She lifts her left breast, the one not already sore from your hand. Her athletic tit is firm, the skin smooth. You place the brand against her, right where the swell meets her ribcage.
The hiss is the same. The smell is the same. But Momo is silent. Her eyes lock with yours, watering from the pain, but she doesn’t blink. She takes the searing heat into her flesh, into her identity, and her expression is one of profound, terrifying acceptance. When you pull the iron away, the perfect, branded letters are etched into her.
A single tear tracks through her mascara. She looks down at the smoking, pink brand on her breast. Then back up at you.
“Yours,” she says, the word final, absolute.
You stand, placing the cooling iron back on the table. You look at your work. Four of Korea’s most famous idols, on their knees, their asses red and throbbing, a fresh, identical brand seared into the soft skin of their left breasts. The air is thick with the mingled scents of sex, sweat, and burnt flesh.
You reach out, your fingers tracing the raised, hot flesh of Momo’s new brand. She shudders, a full-body tremor.
“Now,” you say, your voice dropping to a intimate rumble as you look at each of their marked, waiting bodies. “Let’s see how my newly branded NeS sluts thank their owner.”
I was sitting alone in the back row of the library during lunch period, like always. Hoodie up, earbuds in but no music playing—just pretending so nobody would talk to me.
My laptop screen showed some fake physics notes, but really, I was scrolling through the same three photos I’d saved of Hyerin from her social. She had those big glossy lips that everybody called DSL and yeah, I was disgusting for thinking about it all day.
The library door creaked. I minimized the window fast.
Hyerin walked in. Black skirt way too short for school rules, white crop top, hair in a high ponytail. She scanned the room, spotted me, and—fuck—she actually started walking straight toward my table.
I yanked my earbuds out and sat up straighter like that would make me look less like a loser.
“Hey, loser,” she said, dropping her bag on the chair across from me. Her voice was light, teasing, the way girls talk when they know they have all the power.
“H-hi,” I mumbled. My throat felt dry already.
She pulled the chair out and sat, crossing her legs so the skirt rode up even more. “You’ve been staring at me in the cafeteria for like three weeks straight. Think I didn’t notice?”
My face burned. “I—I wasn’t—”
“Shut up.” She leaned forward, elbows on the table, lips curved in that half-smile that made my stomach flip. “I’m not mad. It’s kinda cute. Pathetic, but cute.”
I couldn’t look at her eyes so I stared at her collarbone instead. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. Just be honest.” She tilted her head. “You jerk off thinking about my mouth, don’t you?”
I swear my heart stopped for a second. I nodded once, tiny, like if I didn’t move too much she wouldn’t see it.
“Words, nerd.”
“…Yeah.”
“Yeah what?”
“I… think about your mouth. A lot.”
She laughed—soft, not mean. “Knew it. This lips, right? Everybody says I got DSL looks like.”
I swallowed hard. “They’re… perfect.”
She licked them slowly, watching my reaction. My dick twitched in my jeans immediately.
“You want them on you?” she asked, voice lower now.
She leaned back, studying me like I was homework. “You said in your head a million times already, didn’t you?”
I knew exactly what she meant. I’d practiced it in my mind like a prayer.
“Say it out loud,” she ordered. “Right now. Clear.”
My hands were shaking under the table. I looked around—no one close. The librarian was all the way at the front desk.
I leaned in a little. Voice barely above a whisper.
“Hyerin… please suck my dick with those DSL. I’ll do anything for it.”
She didn’t laugh. She just stared at me for a long second, then bit her bottom lip like she was thinking.
“Anything?” she repeated.
“Anything,” I said, desperate.
She tapped one long nail on the table. “Okay. Follow me.”
She stood up, grabbed her bag, and walked toward the back exit that led to the old storage hallway nobody used. I scrambled after her, almost knocking my chair over.
The hallway was dim, smelled like dust and old books. She stopped at the third door—the AV room that hadn’t been locked properly since last year. She pushed it open and went inside. I followed and closed it behind us.
No windows. Just a table, some old projectors, stacks of chairs.
She turned around and leaned against the table, arms crossed under her chest so her tits pushed up.
“Pants down,” she said.
My fingers felt numb. I fumbled with the button, shoved my jeans and boxers to my thighs. My dick sprang up, already leaking at the tip. I was so hard it hurt.
Hyerin looked down and smirked. “Aw. It’s kinda cute. Twitching like that.”
I wanted to die and come at the same time.
She stepped closer until her sneakers almost touched mine. “You really meant that ‘anything’ part?”
“Yes.”
“Good.” She dropped to her knees right there on the dusty floor. No hesitation. My brain short-circuited.
She wrapped her fingers around the base—cool at first, then warm. “Look at me while I do it. No looking away.”
I nodded fast.
She leaned in and dragged her tongue flat from balls to tip, slow, eyes locked on mine the whole time.
“Fuck, Hyerin...” I groaned like an idiot.
“Quiet,” she warned. “You want someone to hear?”
I bit my lip hard.
She opened her mouth and took just the head inside. Those lips—fuck, they looked even better stretched around me. Soft, glossy, perfect. She sucked lightly, tongue flicking the slit, then pulled off with a wet pop.
“You like that?” she asked, voice husky.
“God yes.”
“Say thank you.”
“Thank you.”
She smiled, pleased, then went back down—deeper this time. Halfway. Her cheeks hollowed. I felt the back of her throat flutter.
I grabbed the edge of the table so I wouldn’t grab her head. “Holy shit…”
She hummed around me. The vibration went straight to my balls.
She started bobbing—slow at first, then faster. Wet, sloppy sounds filled the room. She didn’t care about being neat. Spit dripped down her chin. Every time she pulled back she let a thick string of it connect her lips to my tip before diving again.
She stroked me fast with her, “I’ve been practicing on bananas since middle school.”
I almost came right then.
“Don’t you dare finish yet,” she said sharply. “You don’t get to come until I say.”
I whimpered. “Okay… okay…”
She went back down, all the way this time. Nose against my stomach. I felt her throat squeeze around me. She held it there, gagging a little, eyes watering, but she didn’t pull back until she needed air.
When she finally came up she was breathing hard. “Fuck, you’re thicker than I thought.”
“Sorry—”
She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “I like it. Makes my jaw hurt. That’s hot.”
She stood up suddenly. “Take your hoodie off. And shirt.”
I obeyed in record time. Naked from the waist up, jeans still around my thighs.
She pulled her crop top over her head. No bra. Her tits were perfect—round, perky, pale pink nipples already hard.
“Touch them,” she said.
My hands shook as I cupped them. Soft. Warm. I brushed my thumbs over the nipples and she moaned quietly.
“Suck,” she ordered.
I bent down and took one in my mouth. She grabbed my hair and pulled me closer. “Harder.”
I sucked harder. She gasped.
“Good boy,” she whispered. “Now the other one.”
I switched. She kept stroking my dick slowly while I sucked her tits, keeping me right on the edge.
After a minute she pushed me back gently. “Sit on the table.”
I hopped up. She stepped between my legs.
“Lie back.”
I did. Cold table against my back. She climbed up, straddling my thighs, skirt hiked around her waist. I could see her white panties—wet spot right in the middle.
“You want to fuck me?” she asked, grinding down so my dick slid against the damp cotton.
“Yes—please—”
“Not yet.” She reached down, pulled her panties to the side. Shaved. Pink. Soaking. “First you’re gonna watch me come on your cock. No moving. Just stay still.”
She lined me up and sank down—slow. Tight. Hot. I groaned loud enough that she slapped her hand over my mouth.
“Shhh.”
She started riding—small rolls of her hips at first, then bigger. Her tits bounced with every move. She braced her hands on my chest, nails digging in.
“Look at my lips,” she panted. “Watch them while I fuck you.”
I stared at her mouth—open, glossy, swollen from sucking me earlier.
“You still want these lips again?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Beg.”
“Please, Hyerin… please suck me again after… I need it… I’ll do whatever you want…”
She grinned, wicked. “You’re gonna eat me out every day after school. Starting tomorrow. You understand?”
“Yes—fuck—yes—”
She sped up. “And you’re gonna carry my bag between classes. And get my lunch. And do my math homework.”
“Anything—anything—”
“Good boy.” She leaned down, lips brushing my ear. “I’m close… you’re gonna pull out when I tell you. Then you’re gonna come all over my tits. Got it?”
She rode harder, grinding her clit against me. Her breathing turned into little whimpers. “Don’t come yet… wait… wait…”
I was shaking, fighting it. Balls tight. Every thrust was torture.
“Now,” she gasped. “Pull out—now!”
I grabbed her hips and lifted her off me just in time. She slid down my body so her tits were right over my dick. I wrapped my hand around myself—two fast strokes—and exploded.
Thick ropes shot out, hitting her chest first, then splashing across both tits. White streaks painted her skin, dripping down the curves, some landing on her hard nipples. She moaned low, watching it happen, rubbing the head of my dick against her slick skin to milk the last few spurts.
“Fuck… look at that mess,” she whispered, almost proud. She scooped a little with her finger and licked it off, eyes on mine. “Tastes like you’re obsessed with me.”
I couldn’t speak. Just panted, staring at the cum glistening on her perfect tits.
She climbed off the table and fixed her skirt. Didn’t wipe anything off—just pulled her crop top back on over the sticky mess. The white fabric clung in spots, turning see-through where it soaked in.
“Clean yourself up,” she said, smirking. “You’ve got five minutes before next period.”
I nodded, dazed, still leaking a little.
She grabbed her bag, turned back at the door.
“And tomorrow?” She pointed at me. “After last bell. Girls’ bathroom near the gym. You’re eating me out until I can’t stand. Got it?”
“Yes, Hyerin.”
She licked her lips one last time—still shiny from earlier—and walked out,
The bell rang for the end of last period, and my stomach was already in knots. All day I’d been useless—dropped my pencil twice in math, zoned out in history thinking about her cum-glazed tits under that crop top yesterday. I kept my head down, hoodie up, avoiding eye contact with anyone. Especially her.
I waited until the halls were mostly empty, then walked to the girls’ bathroom near the gym like she’d ordered. The one nobody really used after school because the lights flickered and it smelled like old bleach. Door was cracked open. I pushed it slowly.
Hyerin was already there, leaning against the sink counter, arms crossed. Same short black skirt, but today she had on a tight red tank top that hugged everything. Lip gloss fresh, shiny as hell. She looked me up and down like she was deciding if I was worth her time.
“You’re late,” she said, even though I wasn’t.
“Sorry,” I mumbled, closing the door behind me. The lock clicked.
She pushed off the counter and walked over, slow, hips swaying. Stopped right in front of me. Close enough I could smell her vanilla perfume mixed with something sweeter.
“On your knees,” she said quietly.
I dropped without thinking. Tile was cold through my jeans.
She looked down at me, smirking. “You’ve been thinking about this all day, haven’t you?”
“Yeah.”
“Say it.”
“I’ve been thinking about eating you out since yesterday. Couldn’t focus on anything else.”
She laughed softly. “Pathetic. I like it.”
Then she grabbed my hoodie strings, pulled me up a little so my face was level with her stomach. She bent down and kissed me—hard. Not sweet. Her lips smashed against mine, tongue pushing in right away. She tasted like cherry gloss and mint gum. I groaned into her mouth.
She bit my bottom lip, tugged, then sucked on it before pulling back just enough to speak. “Open wider,” she mumbled against me.
I did. She spat into my mouth—slow, thick string of spit that landed on my tongue. Salty, warm. Then she kissed me again, deeper, swirling her tongue around mine, spreading it everywhere. My head spun. I’d never been kissed like this—like she owned my mouth.
She pulled back just enough to whisper, “Swallow.”
I did. Tasted her. My dick jumped against her thigh.
“Good,” she purred. “You like my spit in your mouth?”
“Y-yes…”
She smiled, wicked. “You’re gonna get a lot more than that today.”
She pushed me back until my ass hit the sink counter. Then she hopped up beside my clothes pile, spread her legs wide. Skirt rode up. No panties today—just smooth skin and her pussy already glistening.
“On your knees,” she said.
I dropped fast. Floor was cold tile. Didn’t care. Face level with her. She smelled sweet and musky, like sex already.
“Look at it first,” she ordered. “Tell me what you see.”
I stared. Pink lips, swollen a little, clit peeking out, shiny with wetness. A thin string of her arousal stretched down toward the counter.
“You’re… so wet,” I said, voice shaky. “Looks so good...”
She reached down, spread herself with two fingers. “Now eat me. Slow at first. No rushing.”
I leaned in. First touch was just my lips kissing her outer lips, soft. She sighed. I dragged my tongue flat up one side, then the other, tasting her. Salty-sweet, warm. Addictive.
“Fuck… yeah,” she breathed. “Like that.”
I circled her clit with the tip of my tongue, light pressure. She jerked a little.
“More,” she said. “Suck it.”
I wrapped my lips around her clit and sucked gently. She moaned—loud in the empty bathroom. Her hand went into my hair, gripping tight.
“Harder. Use your tongue flat.”
I pressed harder, flicked fast, then slow circles. She started grinding against my face, small rolls of her hips. Her wetness smeared on my chin, my cheeks. I didn’t care. I wanted to drown in it.
“You’re good at this,” she panted. “Keep going. Don’t stop.”
I slid my tongue lower, pushed inside her. She was tight, hot, clenching around me. I fucked her with my tongue, in and out, then back up to her clit. She was dripping now—down my chin, onto the floor.
“Fingers,” she gasped. “Two. Now.”
I pushed two fingers in slow. She was so wet they slid right to the knuckle. Curled them up, found that spot. She bucked hard.
“Right there—fuck—don’t stop!”
I sucked her clit harder, fingers pumping steady. Her thighs started shaking around my head.
“I’m gonna come,” she warned. “You better not pull away. Drink it.”
I moaned against her so she felt the vibration. That did it.
She clamped down on my fingers, thighs squeezing my ears. A gush of wetness hit my tongue—hot, slippery. She cried out, sharp and loud, grinding hard against my face while she came. Pulse after pulse. I kept licking, sucking, swallowing everything she gave me.
When she finally relaxed, she was breathing ragged. She pulled my head back by the hair, looked down at me. My face was a mess—chin shiny, lips swollen.
“Look at you,” she said, almost soft. “Covered in me.”
She smirked. “You’re gonna do this every day after school. Understand?”
“Yes.”
She slid off the counter, legs a little shaky. Pushed me back so I was sitting on the floor, back against the wall. My dick was rock hard, leaking steady now.
She knelt between my legs, grabbed my shaft. “You earned this.”
Those lips wrapped around me again. No teasing this time—just deep, wet, fast. She bobbed hard, cheeks hollowing, spit running down my balls. One hand cupped them, rolling gently. The other stroked what her mouth couldn’t reach.
I groaned. “Hyerin—fuck—I’m close already.”
She pulled off, stroked fast. “Where do you want to come?”
“Your mouth… please…”
She grinned, dove back down. Took me all the way. Throat squeezed. I lost it.
I came hard, hips jerking. She didn’t pull away—swallowed every pulse, humming around me so it felt even better. When I was done she sucked slow, cleaning me off, then popped off with a wet sound.
She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, stood up.
“Get dressed,” she said. “We’re done for today.”
I scrambled up, legs weak. Pulled my clothes on while she fixed her skirt and checked her makeup in the mirror.
She turned to me at the door. “Tomorrow. Same time. Bring a clean towel from the locker room. I want to sit on your face next time.”
My dick twitched again even though I’d just come.
“Yes, Hyerin.”
She unlocked the door, gave me one last look—lips still puffy from everything we’d done.
“Don’t be late.”
The next day dragged like hell. Classes blurred together. I kept checking my phone under the desk, heart jumping every time it buzzed, but nothing from her until right after the final bell.
My screen lit up. One message from Hyerin.
“Paradise Inn. Room 312. Hurry the fuck up. I hate waiting.”
No emojis. No teasing. Just that. My stomach flipped so hard I almost dropped the phone.
Paradise Inn was the cheap motel off the highway, the one kids whispered about for hookups and parties. Fifteen-minute walk from school if you cut through the back lot. I grabbed my bag and basically ran.
Sweat was already sticking my shirt to my back by the time I got there. The lobby smelled like stale cigarettes and cheap air freshener. I took the stairs—elevator looked like it might die—three at a time. Room 312. Door was cracked open just enough for the hallway light to spill in.
I pushed it wider.
Hyerin was inside, sitting on the edge of the bed in nothing but black lace panties and one of those thin hotel robes half-open. Hair down, messy like she’d been running her hands through it. Lipstick still perfect, though. The room smelled like her perfume and the faint chlorine from the pool outside.
She looked up from her phone, eyes narrowing.
“You took forever.”
“I ran,” I panted, closing the door behind me. Lock clicked.
She stood up slow, letting the robe slip off her shoulders and pool on the floor. Just the panties now. Her tits looked even better in the dim lamp light—full, nipples already hard.
“Strip,” she said. No hello. No games. “Everything off. Now.”
I fumbled my hoodie over my head, kicked off shoes, yanked jeans and boxers down in one go. Naked in seconds. Dick already half-hard just from seeing her like this.
She walked over, slow, hips rolling. Stopped right in front of me. Grabbed my chin, tilted my face up.
“You’re mine today,” she said quietly. “All fucking day. You do what I say, when I say. Got it?”
“Yes.”
She slapped my cheek—not hard, just enough to sting. “Louder.”
“Yes, Hyerin.”
“Good boy.” She pushed me back until my legs hit the bed. I sat. She climbed onto my lap, straddling me, grinding once so her lace-covered pussy dragged along my shaft. I groaned.
She kissed me—rough, tongue deep, biting my lip until I tasted copper. Then she pulled back, spit in my mouth again like yesterday, slow and deliberate. I swallowed it down.
“Lie back,” she ordered.
I scooted up the bed. She followed, crawling over me like a cat. Pushed my shoulders flat. Straddled my chest, then slid higher until her thighs framed my face.
“Eat me first,” she said, lowering herself. “Make me wet enough to take you raw.”
I grabbed her hips. Pulled her down. Her panties were soaked already. I licked through the lace—tasted her through the fabric. She moaned, rolled her hips.
“Move them,” she snapped.
I hooked my fingers in the sides, tugged them down her thighs. She kicked them off. Then sat right on my face—no teasing.
I went to work. Tongue flat, long licks from hole to clit. Sucked her clit hard like she liked. She rocked against me, grinding, smearing wetness across my chin and nose.
“Fuck—deeper,” she gasped. “Use your tongue inside.”
I pushed in as far as I could. She clenched around it. Her hands in my hair, pulling hard enough to hurt. She rode my face faster, thighs squeezing my ears.
“I’m gonna come quick,” she panted. “Don’t stop—don’t you fucking stop—”
She tensed. Shuddered. Flooded my mouth again—hot, sweet, a lot. I swallowed what I could, kept licking through the aftershocks until she shoved my head away, breathing ragged.
She slid down my body, slow. Positioned herself over my dick—still rock hard, leaking.
“You don’t get to come until I say,” she reminded me. “Not even close.”
She sank down—bare. No condom. Just her tight, wet heat swallowing me inch by inch. I groaned loud. She slapped my chest.
“Quiet. Walls are thin.”
She started riding—hard, fast, no warmup. Tits bouncing. Hands on my chest for leverage. Nails digging in.
“Look at me,” she ordered.
I did. Her eyes were dark, lips parted, hair falling in her face.
“You love this pussy, don’t you?”
“Yes—fuck—yes—”
“Say it.”
“I love your pussy, Hyerin. It’s perfect. So tight. So wet.”
She smirked, sped up. “You’re gonna fill it. But only when I tell you.”
She leaned down, kissed me messy while she fucked me. Tongue everywhere. Then sat back up, grinding her clit against my base every downstroke.
Her breathing changed—shorter, higher.
“I’m close again,” she whispered. “Gonna come on your cock. Then you pull out and come on my tits. Like yesterday. Understand?”
“Yes—”
She rode harder. Faster. Moaned louder than she should’ve. Her pussy fluttered around me—tight pulses.
I grabbed her hips, lifted her off just as she started shaking. She slid down quick, tits right over my dick. I stroked myself twice—hard—and came. Thick spurts hitting her chest, her neck, dripping down between her tits. One rope landed on her chin. She laughed breathlessly, rubbing the head against her skin to get every last drop.
“Messy boy,” she said, scooping some up with her finger, sucking it clean. “You taste desperate.”
She collapsed beside me, chest heaving, cum still glistening on her skin. Didn’t wipe it. Just let it dry there like a mark.
We lay like that for a minute. Quiet except for the AC humming.
Then she rolled onto her side, propped her head on her hand.
“This room’s paid for till tomorrow morning,” she said. “You’re not leaving till then.”
I looked at her. “What about—”
“Shut up.” She put a finger over my lips. “You’re staying. We’re gonna fuck again. And again. You’re gonna eat me whenever I want. Suck my tits. Whatever I say. And when I’m done using you, maybe I’ll let you sleep.”
She leaned in, kissed me slow this time—almost soft.
“But right now,” she whispered against my mouth, “get hard again. I want round two. And this time I’m riding your face while you finger me.”
She climbed back on top, already grinding against my softening dick.
You look at her who is still in her seat, hand clicking and sliding rapidly across the frictionless mousepad as she tries to weave past attacks flying towards her.
“Give me a minute, babe. Let me finish this up.”
You drag a chair from an empty cubicle behind her and sit down.
And you wait. Wait. Waited.
Your wrinkled fingers tremble. Your baggy eyes waver. Your drooping back falls lower.
You're exhausted and tired.
But it's time.
“Victory!”
A deep, booming and resonant voice announces her win directly into her ears. You don't hear anything of course, since headphones are only meant for one person’s use.
Headphones that you bought for her. A Razer Kraken Kitty V3 Pro — Quartz that cost a fifth of your meagre part-time salary. And because you were so worried that she might damage it, you even offered to yourself to add on the extended warranty for its protection of an extra three years.
Who would have known that extended warranty does not protect your already crumbling feelings for her. Your ‘friends’ have called you blind, lovesick, or a dumb idiot, among many other nastier names, but at least someone chose to be with you.
Well, you're her cash cow after all.
She doesn't need to bat her eyelashes to get that limited edition Razer Enki X Hello Kitty and Friends gaming chair that burned half a hole through your pathetic wallet. She doesn't even need to whine and pout with the sole aim of draining your monthly cheque to buy the SHEGLAM Full Collection Set when she already has a CHANEL LES BEIGES HEALTHY GLOW SUMMER ESSENTIALS makeup set at home. That one was from the courtesy of your funding too, you remind yourself.
She turns around and looks at you. She's pretty. Pretty because you have worked your sorry ass to the bone just to keep her happy. Everything on her and used by her was and is from you.
But you're going to ensure that the tense doesn't become a future one. No more gifts for her that will be coming from you.
“So, what is it babe?” she coos, this time somehow magically batting her eyelashes.
You take in her victory-drunk expression from the game match which she has just won and swallow down a non-existent glob of saliva that your malfunctioning salivary glands are producing.
“I said, let's break up.”
“Like us?” she asks, pointing her finger between you and her repeatedly.
“Yes.”
“B-But why?”
“You don't love me anyway,” you say. “Nothing you say is going to change my mind, so let's just make this a clean break.”
You immediately stand and turn to leave, in fear that if you stay any longer, you’ll actually change your mind.
“Wait! No!”
She grabs on to your arm and clings to it with both hands, shouting at you with an exaggerated cutesy voice.
“But what about that skin that you promised to buy me? I already told my friend that I’ll buy it for her, and if you leave now, I’ll be labelled as a liar!”
You freeze in your step, heart clenching in helplessness.
“There’s also my monthly subscription for the battle pass! What about that? How am I going to pay for that now? Can you pleeeeaaasseeeee not terminate the recurring payment?”
Your fists clench. Your teeth grit against each other.
“And that new keyboard that you’ve already ordered for me, you won't be cancelling it, right? It's my favourite after all.”
That's it.
You yank your hand away from her and turn to her. Your mouth opens and your chest expands, ready to launch a bombardment of accusations of how much of a money grubber she is (not an accusation, by the way), but in the end, your lips simply close to a shape just enough for a growl.
“No. I had enough.”
Her face instantly switches. From a cute puppy to a devilish three-headed hell dog reminiscent of Cerberus, she begins to berate you.
“Enough? What do you mean enough? Haven't I been giving you more than you deserve? You should be glad that I even bothered to hang out with such a loser like you. You don't even have any friends, and you should fucking consider it a blessing from god that I see you as pitiful enough to cast eyes on your loathsome self.”
You stand there and take in the verbal assault, just like how you always do when there's nobody around, except that this time, you have close to sixty pairs of curious eyes from all around the PC Bang probably scoffing at you.
“Wait…” she hums, before continuing. “I see what it is. You're mad that I haven't spread my legs for you right? All these gifts and presents bought for me, but here you are, still a virgin that can't even get any pussy.”
She gives a mocking laugh and digs her finger into your chest.
“Virgin. Loser. Pussy,” she sneers, enunciating every syllable. “I’m sooo fucking glad I haven't even allowed you to even hold my hand.”
And you, who upholds the thinking of women shouldn't be retaliated against, regardless of whether its physically, verbally, or mentally, you just stand there and soak in every negative emotion enacted upon you like a sponge. Your clenched fist relaxes but your nerves twitch. Your heart pounds and adrenaline rushes, but you divert that to calm your surging rage.
“I bet if I—”
She raises her hand and stretches her palm wide.
“—fucking slap you right here, you wouldn't even do anything about it.”
Air whooshes and she swings it down.
You close your eyes on instinct, your muscles tensing to harden your skin and soften the incoming impact.
Air graces your cheek instead of flesh.
“What the fuck—”
You slowly open your eyes and look at her.
Or them.
“Let go of me—” she yells, yanking her hand off Nagyung’s grip. She had barely managed to step in at the last second, stopping you from getting a temporary tattoo of red handprint on your cheek.
“Leave,” Nagyung steps in between the two of you. “Or I’ll call the police on you for public nuisance and disruption of businesses.”
“I’ll be fucking back,” she says, glaring at you which Nagyun had promptly shifted her face to cut her eye contact. “I’ll bring all—”
“The only thing you’ll bring is bringing your stuff back,” Nagyung declares. “You will be hereby blacklisted and banned from this internet café, as well as any of our other branches. We will however allow you one additional day to collect your—”
Nagyung points to all ‘her’ equipment that you have gifted.
“—stuff, otherwise, they will all be promptly discarded.”
“You fucking bitch!” she screams, raising her hand once again to slap Nagyung this time round.
“Leave already!”
“Stop being such a bother!”
“Fuck off!”
Protests and complaints from other patrons came from all around, jeering at her.
“Stupid ass café,” she grumbles, flustered at the turn of situation. “You're all in on this together.”
She turns and grabs her belongings, storming past glaring gamers with her own death glares.
“I’ll ask each and every one of my friends to review bomb this place!” she screams before the door closes, muffling her unfounded outrage.
“I apologise for the commotion,” Nagyung says, bowing deeply. “However, please be considerate to your fellow customers, otherwise, we will blacklist you like that Karen earlier.”
The café returned to its still busyness, with the sounds of keyboard buttons and mouse clickings filling the air once again.
Nagyung grabs on to your wrist and pulls you into the kitchen.
“You alright?” she asks.
“Yeah,” you answer unconfidently. “Just…”
“You don't have to explain to me. I saw everything.”
“I'm such an idiot, huh?” you mumble.
“Yeah. It was about time. I was wondering when you’ll cut her off. Why were you even trying to keep that toxic of a relationship alive?”
You fall silent, leaning back against the kitchen counter and stare at the unopened packs of ramen lined in the cabinets above through the see-through glass.
Nagyung sighs.
“You want to clock out early today?”
That knocks you out of your daze.
“N-No! I need money. I’ll have to pay for her battle pass subscription still…”
Slap.
“Ow!” you shout, rubbing the back of your head. Nagyung smacks you, and if there's one thing you know about her, it’s that she doesn't hold back.
“You’re really an idiot. If you're going to continue feeding her, why break up with her in the first place? I know you're a people pleaser, but that isn't a battle pass for people to step all over you.”
She takes in a deep breath and continues to nag.
“Why are you even allowing people to step over you? Is your dummy brain that dumb?” She placed four fingers on her forehead and shook her head in disappointment. “If you're gonna continue to do that, I'm not going to issue your salary to you anymore.”
“Hey!” you argued, your voice’s volume increasing in intensity. “I'm not an idiot. And I'm not going to work for free. Who are you to decide if I get my money or not?! This isn't even your shop. It's your parents. You're just like me, a person who’s a loser—”
You mouth snaps shut at the misspoken words, and panic wells up in you.
“I-I’m sorry. I was just—”
“Go home,” Nagyung says.
“I—”
“I said, GO HOME.”
You look at her, trying to decipher her emotions, but you learn nothing. She doesn't look angry nor sad, and obviously she doesn't look happy. You open your mouth to speak, but she simply points her finger to the locker that houses your backpack.
Raising your hands in defeat, you sigh and walk past her, grabbing your stuff before heading out.
“Hey,” Nagyung calls out.
You turn and look at her.
“Come here.”
You walk over.
“Ouch!”
She had kicked your shin so hard that the tremor travelled from your bone up your spine into your head.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she says, sticking her tongue out at you before walking off to the counter, accepting an order for a bowl of instant noodles.
For the first time that evening, you smile.
You walk out of the PC café, head seemingly clearer from the liberation of your now-ex girlfriend and the head shock from Nagyung’s kick.
———
And so you think.
Your wallet finally feels full after like what, six years?
You take a sip of the bitter herbal tea.
Yes. Six years. You can't believe yourself either. You had actually waited six years of financial and emotional exploitation before mustering up the courage to free yourself from the shackles of that toxic relationship.
Was it her fault?
You boot up the PC in the closed internet café.
Yes, definitely. It was totally her fault. That scum of a woman who was a money loving whore.
Right. A little too harsh on your words there, but it's a fact. She still is a money loving whore, by the way — she had sent you a text message earlier asking for some funds to a new weapon skin.
That message was ignored, of course.
You stare at the loading screen of the computer, watching the dots appearing and disappearing in a circular path as a software update installs.
But somehow, you couldn't bring yourself to hate her. Sure, she was the metal cuffs of greed that drained and milked you of your finances, but you were the one who placed them upon yourself.
Cuffed yourself up.
Locked your wrists with them.
The screen switches and you key in the password. The familiar wallpaper advertising the PC café’s name greets you. Double click, and the game she always plays launches.
Anytime you could have used the keys in your hands to free yourself, to break out of your predicament, but you chose not to. You stuffed them into your pocket — your self imposed cage of your innermost desire for companionship.
A match starts. You choose a character that she always asks you to — one that only acts as a support to hers.
Perhaps you just wanted someone to be around you, to laugh, to talk, to appreciate each other without any favours or transactions that powers the relationship.
You wander around aimlessly, spamming buffs at allies randomly without a plan. A heal comes before a tank gets hit: they die because your skill is on cooldown. You buff a thief with intelligence stat instead of strength: they get deleted because their critical hit fell short of the opponent’s remaining HP.
Why do you feel so empty despite your wallet being full?
You get kicked out of the team.
The cursor hovers over the lobby’s different rooms. You pick a random one, one filled with the maximum number of players. Battle royale game mode. You ask for allies, try and form alliances. This time, you wake out of your stupor and support your team well, well enough that you and your three teammates are the last surviving players.
The elimination zone closes in towards the map’s centrepoint as the match reaches its penultimate showdown.
Four players, three ranking spots.
You four meet in an empty plaza.
You press F7 on your keyboard and start typing in the chat box.
How are we going to deci—
YOU DIED
A concentrated ice beam.
A overhead guillotine drop.
A barrage of missiles.
Before you can even hit the escape button and toggle out of text messaging mode, all three skills hit you squarely. Your HP bar drops to nil and the red words of death flood the screen.
Three different attacks kill you.
No.
It was only one.
An attack of betrayal.
This was premediated, no doubt. You had once again been used and discarded. Just as how your life had been like.
Perpetual giving and no receiving.
You quit the game and turn off the computer, leaning back into the chair. At least the soft cushions of your seat don't betray you.
You grab the glass and give your bitter tea its last bitter sip. It makes your tongue cringe and your mind grimace, but somehow, you feel a little better.
You need more—
“Here.”
A fresh glass of cold herbal tea appears in front of your face.
“Nakko.”
You sit up slightly, but she pushes you back onto the chair.
“Relax. We’re not at work anymore.”
She shakes the glass of tea slightly.
“Aren't you gonna take it?”
“R-Right,” you say, swapping your empty glass for the full one. “Thanks.”
“It’ll be deducted off your paycheck, by the way.”
You spit out the half sip that was already past your throat, discharging it back into the cup through the straw.
“You serious?”
“Employees are only entitled to one drink and one meal per day,” she says. “Don't tell me you forgot. You've been working here since like I was working here.”
“Fuck…” you curse, but you suckle on the straw regardless, drinking back the now saliva-contaminated-beverage.
“I’m joking. The rule is there but it can not be there,” she says, pulling a chair from the cubicle beside yours. “Why are you still here? You're usually home by now.”
“Bored. Free. Finally have some time to myself other than that bitch.”
You tap on the keyboard, playing with the buttons. You press it with every passing second, imagining how the black space on the unturned-on screen expands infinitely with every spacebar that you punch with your index finger.
Nagyung tucks her two hands under her thighs and swings her legs, looking at you with an unreadable expression.
“As you should. But why aren't you playing more?”
You close your eyes.
Your mouth opens and you want to tell her how empty you feel.
Instead, you suck in the remaining four hundred and seventy six millimetres of tea and stand up.
“Did she pick up her stuff?”
“Why are you even asking me the question?” Nagyung says. “You saw that her stuff was shifted out for her to claim when you came in. The stuff is now gone.”
She gives you the ‘it’s obviously picked up’ look.
“I was just… curious.”
Nagyung sighs and mutters.
“She did. She showed up with two males, which I assumed were her new boyfriend candidates. They helped her move everything into a truck that was driven by a third male friend before they all got in and drove off.”
You look at the arrow keys this time, playing with the left and right buttons as you tapped them alternatingly.
“Do you think she let them fuck her?”
“How would I know? Is that even important?”
“…Yes,” you mumble. “Because apparently I’m not worthy of even holding her hand.”
Nagyung stares at you, her eyes wavering slightly, unsure of what she should say.
“I should go,” you say, heading to the kitchen to grab your bag. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Nagyung watches you leave.
“Dummy,” she mutters.
———
“Ya, you look like shit. What the fuck happened to you?”
You look at her who enters the kitchen.
“Hey,” you mutter, casting your gaze back to the terminal and accept an order for a bowl of instant noodles.
“Have you even eaten?” Nagyung asks, donning her work apron.
You hesistate with your answer.
“Oh look, they asked for two extra eggs and three cheese sausages,” you say, diverting the topic. “Can't forget that.”
You turn to the induction stove and turn it on, placing a pot filled with water to the premarked dot that had been determined to be the secret of perfect chewiness of PC café noodles.
Water boils, noodles in, a right amount of time to cook. Not a minute more, not a second less. Seasoning in. The timer beeps and you turn off the induction, cracking two eggs in. Whilst you allow the residual heat to cook the eggs, you turn to take the sausages off the warmer and place them on a side plate.
Done.
You pour the spicy soup noodles into a bowl and garnish with a small serving of subtly sourish kimchi, then place them all onto a serving tray.
“You missed something,” Nagyung said, her arms crossed.
“I didn't.”
She raises her eyebrows and looks at you.
“Two extra eggs and two cheese sausages,” you say, pointing at each extra ordered topping. “See? One, two. Two eggs. One, two. Two cheese sausages.”
She plucks the order receipt from the holder above the countertop and presses it to your face.
“It's three,” she says, pointing at the cheese sausages. “One, two. Two cheese sausages.”
“Right. S-Sorry.”
You turn to take another sausage from the warmer, before walking out of the kitchen with the right order in your hands.
Nagyung clicks her tongue distastefully.
You walk towards the customer on the far end and serve it to him. Once you hear a hum of approval after he gives the noodles a slurp, your job is accomplished.
“Hey, could I get some potato chips?”
“I need some help with my PC here!”
Callouts reach you as you try to make your way back to the kitchen, so you attend to them.
You help a lady who has her PC frozen from opening three games. You take an order from a boy who wants ten pack of chips. You clear empty glasses and bowls onto your now empty tray.
“I need to go to the washroom,” Nagyung calls out to you. “Help me with finishing up this order!”
She takes her apron off and leaves the kitchen, leaving you scrambling back with fifty thousand things to do. You take the chips and place it on the counter — you’ll bring it out together with the other order later. You dump the dirty crockery into the dishwasher.
Phew.
Time to finish up the noodles on the stove. You take a look at the order. Same thing. Two eggs, three cheese sausages, but this one came with even more extra add ons of beansprouts and tofu slices.
You promptly cook everything and place them on the tray like a ritual, bringing it out again.
Aisle D10.
You walk in, making your way to the customer. Except that it's empty.
“What?”
You look to the cubicle beside D10 and tap on a student’s shoulder.
“Was anyone here?”
He peels off his headphones and looks at you with annoyance, seemingly irritated that you disrupted his mob farming momentum.
“No.”
“You sure?”
“What part of No do you not understand?” He rolls his eyes. “Now leave me alone.”
What a rude little—bzzt.
Your phone vibrates.
You set down the food on D10’s table and take your phone out.
You pocket your phone and settle into D10. Seconds later, you're already digging in to the noodles, chewing on the sausage, breaking the gooey yolk. She even added tofu and beansprouts to the order to make sure you have a balanced meal.
Fuck. How will you even repay her.
Halfway through the meal, you suddenly stop.
You had forgotten.
This was the exact seat that she was always using. She always used to order you to cook her meals as she played, disregarding if you were slaving away or not. She slurped her noodles here, pressed the keyboard here, and abused you here.
Your appetite is gone. You gag a little, but you decide to swallow back the minute amount of food you puked into your mouth.
Can't be dirtying the area.
You picked up the food and walked back to the kitchen, dumping everything into the wastebin.
Nagyung looks at you by the side.
You ready your ears for a beration and scolding for wasting food, but nothing comes. Nagyung just looks at you with a pair of eyes that you've seen like maybe twice? Thrice?
Point is, she rarely looks this soft and gentle.
“You alright?”
“Yea,” you answer immediately. “Why wouldn't I be?”
“Why would you be?”
“I—”
“Give me a minute.”
She walks out of the kitchen into the café and picks up a small microphone.
Ahem.
Attention please.
Due to an emergency, we will be closing the café in ten minutes time.
We apologise for the inconvenience.
As compensation, your next session here will be free of charge.
Once again, we apologise for the inconvenience.
She walks back into the kitchen.
“What are you doing?!”
“Shut up.”
Nagyung shushes you and retreives a piece of paper, noting down all the customer IDs as they pack up and leave the café. She makes a mark on the paper after the last person leaves, signing off with a: Customer List for Compensation.
“Help me out, will you?”
She takes an empty tray and rag, passing it to you. Once you’ve gotten yours, she takes her own and heads out into the café, cleaning up the mess and trash that the customers left.
You walk out and join her.
You half expect her to ask you questions while the both of you work, but nothing flies your way.
Silence.
Nothing but the shuffling of feet, sounds of the chairs’ roller wheels being pushed back into place, clinking of dishes, and the clattering of keyboards buttons as you both run sanitary wipes over them.
8.32 p.m.
An hour has passed since you both started cleaning up.
You pull the rack off the dishwasher and pick up a dry cloth, wiping the water off the washed dishes.
One bowl after another.
One spoon after a fork.
Plates stack high, but not taller than bottle of soy sauce.
Nagyung stands there and looks at you, watching you place the last dish into the cabinet.
“So,” she finally speaks. “Fancy a walk outside?”
You look at her. You're tired. You want to go home and sleep. At least you hope that you get some sleep.
Bur you nod anyway.
She hums in approval and turns to her locker.
“C’mon, grab your coat.”
You both walk down the cool streets.
The night was just beginning as people hopped out of diners and offices, but they also stumbled into bars and clubs.
“What's with you lately?” she asks, hand stuffed into her pockets. “You've been looking so… distracted.”
“I don't know. I really don't know. I feel so… empty.”
You stare down at the square tiles that line the pavement, trying to place your foot in every tile’s dead centre with every step that you take.
Childish, you know. But that is what that interests you right now.
“I just feel lost. Not in the way you think.”
“Me?” Nagyung asks. “How would you know how I think?”
You shrug.
“I don't know. I’m thinking that you think I'm a pathetic bastard who can't think for himself now that his overbearing and manipulative girlfriend is gone.”
“Well…” Nagyung mumbles, looking at you as she weighs her words and thoughts. “I agree with the pathetic part. But unable to think for yourself? That's a hard no.”
“Tell me more,” she says. “Tell me how you actually feel.”
“I thought I would feel happy. You know? More money and time to spend on myself.”
You stop by a roadside stall that's selling spicy tteokbokki. Nagyung orders a plate and adds some soondae (bloood sausage) to it. Then you settle into the small tent by the side, waiting for the order to arrive.
“I can finally play all the games I wanted. To use all the characters I didn't have a chance to experience.”
The owner brings over the plate and sets it down on the table. The rice cakes and blood sausages are covered in spicy and sweet red sauce, and two skewer sticks are stabbed into random pieces.
Nagyung takes one stick and pokes a rice cake, popping it into her mouth. She chews the white cylindrical national dish with pondering eyes, watching and listening to you while she eats.
“But with every game I played, I hated what I loved doing even more. I was constantly reminded of how she ordered me around, how she shamelessly whined for skins, how she gets mad at me for mistakes that she makes.”
You stare at the red plate, red equally flooding your eyes and chest.
“I didn't want to play anymore games. Not when it reminds me of her.”
“That I understand. But what about your meals? I can't be having a skeleton serve my customers, right?!”
“I’m afraid I’ll vomit if I do.”
“What? Are you not going to eat because instant noodles remind you of her?”
“They do…”
Nagyung sighs and pokes a piece of blood sausage, passing it to you.
“Eat.”
You look at the purplish-brown slice that's covered with red sauce. Nagyung shakes it slightly, nudging the piece towards you with a go on look.
You take the stick from her and put the food in your mouth.
You chew.
You swallow.
Chew and swallow, chew and swallow.
You chew and swallow.
The next thing you know, you're theee quarters through the plate, and Nagyung had unknowingly pushed it towards you.
“I-I'm sorry, Nakko,” you stutter, flustered at how you had basically ‘stole’ her share of the food.
“You're really an idiot,” she smiles, propping head up by the chin as she puts her elbows on the table. “I bought it for you, so eat it all up. Don’t choke.”
She looks at you with soft eyes as you slow your wolfing down of the food.
“Does fucking her really matter for you?” she asks.
You look at her, taken aback by the sudden interrogation, but you answer anyway. You've been close to Nagyung since god knows when, and talk about such matters was never something you both shyed away on.
“Not really,” you say, poking another piece of rice cake. “I just wanted to be… appreciated.”
She nods her head and just listens to you, taking in all your inner feelings and thoughts.
“You know, I used to think to myself. Am I really such a detesta—”
“Say, wanna do something else?” Nagyung cuts in. “It's Friday night. I know I did a diabolical thing and closed the café when there's so much money to be earned, but I guess I needed a break too.”
You stare at her blankly, since you too were taken aback by her actions.
“What could we do?”
“I don't know, something to distract yourself? There's an arcade a little down the road. Wanna hit that up?”
Arcade. It's been a while since you visited one. It's a money sucking land, but somehow, you're already deep into a claw machine, donating your seventeenth dollar coin to them profit makers.
Nagyung’s by your side, cheering you on, squealing useless directions she wants you to move the joy stick for the optimal clawing position. And of course like 99.8375% of attempts, the empty box of iPhone 17 Pro Max gets shifted a few inches before dropping back among the unobtainable stash of desirable treasures.
“And it's a net loss,” you declared, raising your hands in defeat.
“I really wanted it though,” she chuckles.
“Why do you even want an Apple product? There's like no room for self customisation.”
“What? I want it so that I can sell it, of course,” she giggles. “Why would I want a phone when I already have one that's perfectly fine.”
“You can't say that, you know?” you say. “You better go touch some wood, otherwise, the next thing you know, your phone is gonna spoil.”
“I never believe in such things,” Nagyung says, but she's already touching every possible wooden surface in the arcade.
She looks at the spoils for today: one generous keychain of a simple pink heart.
“I want it.”
“You can have it. I’ll be labelled as a gay under societal norms if I hang that on my bag.”
She bursts out laughing.
“Who says you need to hang girlie stuff to look like a gay. What makes you think you aren't already one?”
“Ya,” you curse at her, but somehow, how just break into a smile.
“Feeling better already?” Nagyung asks.
“Thanks,” you say, nodding.
“Let's head back,” she says. “I have more things planned for you.”
When you’re back at the café, Nagyung promptly turns on enough lights to make sure things are at least visible. She brings you to booth D10, which is apparently your nemesis right now.
She sits you down and boots up the computer, before taking her place in front of a PC beside yours.
“What is this?” you ask, your face already uneasy from being in this spot.
“We play.”
“I don't want to.”
“Hey, look at me.”
You don't. You just stare at the keyboard. Looking at the letters on the keys. Your mind keeps thinking of how she would not even bother to look at you and command you to do things. Your mind keeps thinking about the keyboard she made you buy. The mouse she wanted. The headphones that costed nothing to her.
It reminds you of—
“Look at me.”
Nagyung’s voice snaps you out of your trance. She grabs your hand, what the hell this is so weird, she's your best friend why would she grab your hand, but you don't pull away.
“You're just escaping,” she says, holding your hand tight. “I know you love playing games. I know you love eating instant noodles here. Are you going to let your love for what you love disappear? That doesn't seem very fair to yourself, right?”
“Uh… Nakko,” you mutter.
“Hmm?”
“Why are you holding my hand right now?”
“W-Well, you’ve been harping about how your stupid ex never lets you hold her hand, so I thought I would let you hold mine. Why? Are my hands not worthy? Are they not to your liking?”
“Yes. Wait I mean no! No!”
You squeeze her fingers tight.
“It's just, we aren't anything but friends, so wouldn't it be weird if we like… do this?”
“R-Right.”
She releases her hands from yours and turn to her monitor, muttering something under her breath.
“It’s not like you cared when you held my hands when we were small kids anyway.”
“What was that?” you ask.
“N-nothing,” she diverts. “Anyway, point being, don't stop doing something you love just because it reminds you of something bad. If anything, shouldn't you forge happier memories to replace them?”
You lean back onto the chair, taking in Nagyung’s words as you look at the screen.
“Are you gonna wallow in the past and stay unhappy perpetually?”
You close your eyes and ponder for a second. Many seconds.
Right. Maybe it is time to let myself be free.
“Nakko.”
You open your eyes and look at her.
“Thanks.”
“Dummy,” she says, smiling at you cutely. “Boot it up. We’ll play some matches together.”
A few moments later you're already deep into the game, blasting enemies to death with your mini-alliance with Nagyung. You both die early once, unable to do a thing except for spending the next twenty minutes watching how the rest of the game pan out. In another, you both manage to survive until the end, to which you rock paper scissored her and lost, so you let her kill you to take the number one spot.
But she disconnects from the game and lets you win.
“Then what was the point of me throwing scissors and you paper?” you say.
“You're stupid,” she says, rolling her eyes and bleps at you. “Men are supposed to always throw rock. You're the dummy for throwing a scissors.”
Games continue into the night, and by the time your stomachs are growling, time has passed into the domain of pre-morning where you both should be getting your daily dose of REM sleep. But who the fuck cares when you're having the time of your life. You can't even remember when you had so much fun or smiled this wide.
“I’m hungry,” Nagyung said, raising her arms up high as she stretches with a unholy moan. “Instant noodles?”
“Bet.”
You both stand and walk to the kitchen, only to be dismayed by the fact that there are no instant noodles left.
“Right,” Nagyung sighs. “Stock comes in tomorrow.”
“Bummer.”
“Alcohol? I got some beer stashed in here.”
“I’ll pass. We still have work tomorrow. Plus, I don’t want to get drunk and do stupid things.”
“Oh? What kind of stupid things?”
“N-Nothing. I mean, obviously stupid things like vomitting all over the place, falling onto the ground. Definitely not things like kissing or touching you or anything.”
“You sure?”
“Yea. I wouldn’t do that to you. Much less my best friend.”
“Wow. I’m offended. Am I that unattractive to you?”
“What? No! You're pretty, you're hot… hell, you're one of the hottest women I know. I don't even know why you aren't doing modelling or anything.”
Nakko puffs her chest up and flicks her hair backwards.
“Guess you have some conscience left in you.”
This time, you let your eyes linger. The colorful top hugs her figure, exposing the gentle curve of her shoulders and the sliver of skin above her shorts. Her long caramel hair hangs effortlessly around her, but your eyes draw towards her toned belly and the smooth expanse of her milky legs.
She's always been beautiful, but somewhere along the way, you don’t know when, your eyes had stopped seeing her as your best friend and quietly started seeing a woman.
“You're drooling.”
Your hand snaps to your mouth, wiping away nothing.
“Don't tease me, you shit.”
She laughs and opens the fridge, bending down to take two packets of milk. You swear she jutted her ass out towards you. Not exactly purposeful, but subtle enough for you to notice.
She chucks it to you.
You catch it and poke the straw in, taking a small sip of the cool liquid cream.
“Say, did you really love her?”
Nagyung shifts towards you and stands by your side, leaning against the counter.
“Love… I don't really know. She was the only one who approached me after all.” You swirl the packet of milk in your hands, looking at it as if you can see through the opaque carton. “Rather than love, maybe I think it was more like I was just accepting anyone who showed interest in me.”
You give the carton a big sip, drinking away your sorrows with the non-alcoholic calcium supplement.
“Now that I look back, I was really such an idiot huh. I had someone who really cared about me, but I didn't think much of it.”
Nagyung put down her milk and stared at her shoes.
“What am I to you?”
You put down your milk and also stare at your shoes.
“A friend. My best friend. My only friend who has been my best friend since forever. I'm afraid. I'm afraid of losing the only thing I have left.”
“Why would you?” Nagyung mumbles.
“Because I think I like you more than a friend. You've been with me for so long that I was just blind of your existence to me.”
Bzzt.
Your phone vibrates. You pull it out and it's a call from your ex. You pick up.
“Hey.”
“About damn time you picked up. When will you send me my keyboard? Oh and also the subscription for the battle pass next mon—”
“You money grubbing bitch.”
“What the fu—”
“Yeah you. You think I want to hold your hand? You think I want to kiss you? Even if you spread your legs, I wouldn't even look at you. I'm sorry, but I'm not attracted to narcissistic mosquitoes.”
“The fuck are you talking about? Who would even—”
“It's me, you bitch.”
Nagyung snatches the phone from you.
“Why? Are you jealous? Are you mad that your money cow is going somewhere else? If only you could see us right now. I'm holding his fucking hand. Maybe even hands. He's mine, you got it. He's mine and mine and mine forever. And you? You can go suck those three pussy thirsting gooners who want nothing other than to get in your pants. And guess what? Those gooners won't stay with a slut like you. Unlike you, my relationship with him will be perpetual. So fuck off.”
Beep.
She hangs up the call.
“That was… quite the speech,” you mutter, looking down at her fingers that were and are still threaded around yours. “So, what are we now?”
“Whatever you want us to be,” Nagyung says.
You stare at her silently, the words she had just spewed to your ex downloading into your mind.
“Nakko. I don't want to be your friend anymore. Nor do I want you to be my friend. I want you.”
She looks at you with a raised eyebrow, egging you to continue.
“I’ve been perpetually in love with you, but I just didn't want to admit it. I know you like me, but I didn’t trust my judgement. I just wanted your—”
Nagyung cups your face and smashes her lips onto yours.
She holds on to your tongue with her lips, her own flicking and swirling around yours as she kisses you hard. She steals your breath, your saliva, and your sanity, drinking them in as if it were what she had wanted since god knows when.
And you think you're god, because you've known it since forever, but you were just lying to yourself. The fuse has been lit, the bullet has been shot. You have now progressed past friends and handholding, and you want more.
You moan into her lips.
“Nakko…”
She licks your lips harder and digs into your mouth deeper.
“I want more.”
She pulls you off her, a thick string of saliva connecting between you two.
“I need more.”
“Then take me.”
You press your body forward, but she holds you off.
“Not here. I don't want our first time to be in this god damned kitchen.”
She holds on to your hand.
Fuck. It's the third time this night, or dawn, or pre-morning, whatever. It’s the third time your hand was held this night alone, and it feels so damn good. It makes your heart warm and fuzzy, and you feel as if you won't ever be alone again.
She guides you out of the kitchen into D10, settling into the seat.
“Tell me,” Nagyung says. “Tell me what you love about me.”
“You're so kind—”
“Shhh. Not those. I already know why you fell in love with me. I want to know what you love about me. Tell me what you were thinking when you stared at me earlier.”
You stand over her and bent down, breathing hot into her lips, forehead presses against hers. You lean in and give her a small peck.
“You have the cutest face when you get mad.”
You lean in again, this time suckling her neck.
“You give me the hottest stares when you get mad.”
Nagyung raises her head as you attack her sensitive spots, humming softly.
“How can I be cute and hot at the same time,” she gasps, feeling you plant kisses down her neck to her shoulder bone, which was already kindly exposed courtesy of her off-shoulder outfit.
“Ask yourself,” you say, snaking your fingers into the hem of her top and peeling it down. You pull off her bra at the same time, letting the fabric bunch just below the curvature of her underboob.
“Perfect,” you mumble, already latching your mouth onto one tit. “Cute and hot like your face.”
Her back arches off the chair, hands clinging onto the arm rest as she shakes from the pleasure of being suckled. You draw circles around her nipples with your tongue, teeth grazing them lightly to give her a virgin dose of pain-pleasure.
“Tell me more,” she rasps.
You stick out your tongue and leave a trail of saliva down to her belly, spreading oral slime all over her toned abdomen. You kiss it with wet smacks, worshipping her like you've wanted this for so long.
“Fuck. You tummy, it's so tight. It tastes just like how I’ve imagined.”
“Y-You idiot. If you've been thinking and fantasising about me for so long, what took you so long?”
“I don't know. I don't care. I just know I need you right now.”
“Then take me.”
You grab on to her shorts and pull it down, throwing the obstructing fabric to the side. What's left is just a pair of laced thongs, the pink translucent sheer fabric doing nothing to cover the wetness of her pulsating core. You lean in to give a small lick, tasting her sweet tartness through the cloth.
“I can taste your desperation, Nakko.”
You pull and peel the panty to the side, and the smell of her sex wafts into your nostrils.
You dive in.
The first broad lick has her mouth open. A second swipe makes her groan. The third slurp makes her toes curl. You draw symbols of pleasure with your tongue, digging into her cunt like its a shovel excavating gold.
Her pussy is a trove. A treasure trove of unexcavated potions that have been reserved just for you. You stab your tongue deep and flick a moan out; carve it right to harvest a grunt; swirl in curves to draw a squelch; swat down to force a stream out.
You draw her cunt with your tongue as if you're keying into a controller the cheat code for her pussy juice, and it fucking works because you can't drink without stop.
Not a single drop can go to waste.
At this point, your lips are drenched. You pull them off her lips to which she gives a cutesy whine of disappointment, but you immediately force that back into her as you stuff her full again with a finger.
Then a second. A third. Soon, her pussy is gaping with your hand resting within its confines.
“Y-You’re stretch me so wide…” she moans, her eyelids fluttering as her pussy quivers around you. “She won't hold your hand. So… so I’ll hold yours. I’ll hold yours with my hand.”
She grabs your other hand and presses it into her mouth, sucking on your fingers hard.
“I’ll hold yours with my mouth.”
She looks at you and grunts.
“Look at it.”
You look.
Her folds are pulled taut on either side of your hands, and an endless amout of lubricant flows out of her sex hole.
“And I’ll hold yours with my pussy.”
Her words set you off. You curl and twist your fingers, feeling how she grips your hand like they're begging you to never let go, but you're also begging for her to not do so either.
Squelch. Splosh. Squish.
You fingers dance around and inside her like you're carving the juices out of her, and you're succeeding. Her toned belly starts to clench and relax. Her breath starts to grow ragged. Her nipples turn impossibly hard.
“I’m gonna cum,” she mewls, hands reaching for you, but she's too submerged in bliss that she clambers at nothing. She settles for the inhuman arms of the chair and cums.
Her pussy explodes as she orgasms, clenching down on you with crushing force as you work her through. She whines and squeals in ecstasy, juices flowing out of her without stop until her orgasm wanes into a hibernating hum.
You pull your hand out of her soaked pussy.
“You're a squirter,” you whisper in awe.
“Shut up, dummy,” Nagyung rasps in a trembling voice, but she's smiling. “I want more.”
She stands up and turns you around, pushing you into where she just sat. The cushion is wet, but that's the least of your concern. She unbuckles your belt with urgency and tugs your pants down, removing them and throwing it to the side. At the same time, you take pull off your shirt and drop it to the ground.
Your cock is already at its full length, swollen and angry at the lack of attention you both gave it.
Nagyung wraps one hand around it and gives it a few shallow strokes, feeling your intense hardness.
“You're so hard,” she marvels, drawing her hand up from base to tip.
“If it’ll make you feel more confident, I’ve never gotten this fucking hard for her.”
She trembles at your words, leaning into your ear and whispers.
“You hate this place, don't you? Don't worry about it. I’ll make this become your favourite place after tonight.”
She stands and walks to your pants, taking out your phone from within your pocket.
“Let's be cheeky,” she says, turning on your phone. “Password?”
“…”
“Password?”
“Your birthday.”
Nagyung giggles.
“Wow. Like wow. That, made me super turned on. I'm going to milk my cock so fucking hard.”
Your cock twitches from her declaration.
She unlocks your phone and calls your ex, setting it down on the desk beside.
“What the fuck do you want, loser? Are you going to apologise for what that stupid girl said to me?”
Nagyung smirks and stands over you, climbing up onto the chair. She rests her feet on either sides of your thighs, settling between the tight gaps of the cushioned seat.
“If you're going to apologise, I only take cash. Maybe two hundred? Since I'm kind—”
A moan rips through the air.
Your mind reels as Nagyung lowers her pussy down, swallowing your cock whole as she snugs her pussy walls around your shaft.
“—the fuck was that?!”
You grunt as Nagyung impales herself fully onto you, revelling in the sensation of being filled to the brim fucking with both the rationality in her cunt and her mind. She doesn't even give herself time to adjust to your size. She just bends forward and lifts her hips, drawing you out of her cunt. The moment your tip is the only thing left in her, she slams herself back down.
Slap.
As if she's reading your mind, she moans into your ears.
“I don't need to adjust. I’ll let your cock fuck the adjusting into me.”
As if the meat entering and exiting her is not enough, she smirks and bites onto your shoulder, nibbling on your flesh like it’s a piece of delicacy.
“Are you both fucking? How dare you call me when you are having sex?”
“Fuck—your cock feels so good inside of me,” Nagyung cries in pleasure. She straightens her back and grabs on to your hands, once again threading her fingers between yours.
“Gosh your hands feel so big and warm around mind. Fuck, if only she knew what she missed out on.”
“Fuck you both—”
“Kiss me,” Nagyung demands.
You pull her towards you and smash your lips on hers, eating her oral cavity with a voracious appetite.
She moans into your mouth exaggeratedly, letting the muffled and wet smacking fill the air, all while she slams her tight cunt down onto your cock. The sounds of depravity transmits through the microphone of your phone, amd the next thing you know, a soft moan comes through the speaker.
“Please… more…”
You let go of her hands and grip her voluptuous chest, squishing and kneading her soft mounds that rests perfectly in your hands.
“Your tits… they're so soft and perfect. Nothing like hers.”
You lean in and suckle on one, the now free hand snaking to her waist. Gripping tight, you pull her down onto you with more force, pushing your cock further into her, albeit not much.
However, that extra few millimeters strike her most sensitive spot.
Nagyung cries out in pleasure as you pound into her depths, pushing her voice past her limits as she screams and moans and mewls and squeals, saliva drooling out of her open mouth as her eyes roll to the back of her skull.
Her mind is a haze as you assault her pussy, sending her on the path to another orgasm.
She cums.
Her hand slaps your chest in need for more, begging for you to fuck her harder, to give her everything that should have belonged to her instead of the money grubbing bitch.
“Fuck… I bet your cock would feel so good in me too… nghhh…”
Your ex moans through the phone, but you treat it as an erotic backtrack that only serves to drive both your libidos higher.
You stand and flip push Nagyung onto the table, pressing her back into the desk as you kiss her hard. Your chest press against her tits and her hands scramble for support, knocking your phone onto the ground and several PC equipment off their balances, but neither of you care.
Your cock needs no help. You simply push forward, and the unimaginable hardness of your cock guides itself back into the scorching hot confines of her pussy, and you hammer into her with an agenda.
To make her yours forever.
“I think I'm going crazy for you, Nakko.”
You're reply with a soft moan and lust-drunk eyes.
“I think I’m stupidly in love with you, Nakko.”
You receive legs that wrap around your back.
“And I think I want to cum inside of you.”
She looks at you with glassy eyes and nod.
“Fuck me with your thick, fat cock. Make my pussy yours and yours only. Shoot your thick hot cum until I'm loaded with all your baby batter.”
Her words act like a spell, and you groan and thrust into her wanton cunt like nothing matters. Her pussy squelches as juices overflow from another orgasm, slicking your cock up only for you to pull and push harder.
“Nakko, please.”
She stares into your eyes and nod desperately.
“Please stop being my perpetual friend.”
You grab on to her hand and take her lips.
“Please be my perpetual lover.”
With a grunt, you roar and cum inside of her, filling her womb full of your white seed. Ropes and ropes of cum shoots out of your slit, painting and coating her walls like a promise that you’ll give to her for eternity.
When you're done, you collapse back onto the chair, your cock pulled out of her tenderised and swollen snatch with a wet plok. You watch as your cum flows out of her, pooling onto the table, but she reaches her finger down, scooping it up and stuffing it back into her pussy.
“I need more,” she whispers. “Plug me full again and make sure none of it ever comes out.”
“Fuck, I’m sorry. Please, will you let me fuck your coc—”
You pick up your phone and hang up, proceeding to block her number.
You turn to her and look at the clock.
2.36 a.m.
“We open at 11,” Nagyung says. “Don't worry. We have plenty of time. And if you want, we could close the shop for another day. I have craved you since forever.”
You smile and rush forward to give her another kiss, pushing your now hard cock back into her creamed cunt again.
“This is now my favourite spot. And you're now my favourite food.”
And that—
Nagyung points to the pink heart keychain hanging off her bag in the kitchen.
Danielle gets breed instantly after she was kicked out from Newjeans
plot: Male Reader(you or y/n) is a Male Kpop in a boy group under HYBE entertainment. You and Danielle hence, meet sometimes, particularly during events, and have a positive bond and know each other.
Kinks: romantic sex, anal, virgin sex, very much pissing, rimjob(both sides), rough fuck but in love, breeding, shy sex.
for a rough version, read my another Danielle smut in ao3 which is essentially non-con btw!
p1
You are Y/N, a member of one of HYBE's popular boy groups. You've been in the industry for a few years now, working hard, performing on the same stages as NewJeans during company events, award shows, and year-end concerts. Over time, you and Danielle became kind of close—not best friends, but more than just acquaintances. You'd always find each other in the waiting rooms, sharing snacks, laughing about stupid schedules, or complaining about practice. The way she smiled at you a little longer, the way your heart beat faster when she hugged you hello. You liked her. A lot. And you were pretty sure she felt something too, even if neither of you ever said it out loud.
But everything changed on December 29, 2025.
The news hit like a bomb: ADOR terminated Danielle's contract. She was out of NewJeans. Out of the group she'd poured her everything into. You saw the statement, the fan reactions exploding online, the hate, the confusion. You kept checking your phone, wondering if you should message her. You didn't want to overstep, but you couldn't just do nothing.
The next day, December 30, you finally couldn't take it anymore. Late at night, after practice, you scrolled through your contacts and found her number—one you'd saved from a group chat during a HYBE family concert last year. Your hands shook a little as you pressed call.
The phone rang… and rang… then she picked up.
"Hello…?" Her voice was small, hoarse, like she'd been crying for hours.
"Danielle? It's… it's me, Y/N." You kept your voice soft. "I just heard about everything. Are you okay?"
There was silence, then a broken sob. "Y/N… no… I'm not okay…"
You felt your chest tighten. "Where are you? Talk to me."
She started crying harder, words tumbling out between gasps. "I went home after the news… my family… they were so mad. They blamed me for everything, said I ruined my life, that I was stupid for trusting my agency.. And now my dad is also extremely angry.. he hit me. Hard. More than once. I couldn't stay. I just ran out. I have nowhere to go. My group members…. Minji, Hanni, Haerin… they blocked me. Everyone blocked me. I'm alone. Completely alone."
Your blood boiled. How could her own family do that? How could the company just throw her away after everything? "That's fucked up," you said, voice shaking with anger. "ADOR is trash for this. Your family… they don't deserve you. And the girls… I don't know what they're thinking, but you didn't do anything wrong. You fought for what you believed in."
She cried even more at that. "Thank you… no one else is saying that…"
"Listen to me," you said firmly. "Come to my place. Right now. My dorm is empty tonight—my members are at their families' houses for the holidays. I'll send you the address. You shouldn't be out there alone."
"Really…? I don't want to bother you…"
"You're not bothering me. I care about you, Danielle. A lot. Please come."
After a long pause, she whispered, "Okay… send it."
P2:
An hour later, there was a soft knock at your dorm door.
You opened it and your heart broke.
Danielle stood there in an oversized hoodie, face red and puffy from crying, eyes swollen, hair messy under her cap. She had a small backpack slung over one shoulder—the only thing she grabbed when she ran. Bruises were already forming on her cheek and arms where her hoodie sleeve rode up.
You guided her to the couch, sat her down, and knelt in front of her, holding both her hands.
"Look at me Danielle," you said gently. "This isn't your fault," you told her. "The company used you. Your family doesn't understand what you've been through. But I do. I've seen how hard you work. How kind you are. How much you love your members, your fans… you didn't deserve any of this."
She lifted her tear-streaked face. Even like this, she was beautiful.
Fresh tears rolled down her cheeks. "I feel so lost… like everything I worked for is gone." - says her.
You reached up and wiped her tears with your thumb. "Then we'll figure out the next thing together. You're not alone anymore. I promise."
She stared at you for a long moment, eyes searching yours. Then, slowly, she leaned forward and rested her forehead against yours.
"Thank you, Y/N… I don't know what I would've done without you."
You both stayed like that for a while—just both breathing together.
P3:
You stand up from the couch..
"Let me make you some tea. It'll help you calm down a little."
She nods, wiping her eyes. "Thank you, Y/N…"
You go to the small kitchen in your dorm, boiling water and picking her favorite—chamomile with a bit of honey, something you remember her mentioning once during a late-night talk at a company event. As the tea steeps, you glance back at her on the couch. She's curled up, hugging her knees, watching you quietly. Every time your eyes meet, she looks away fast, cheeks turning pink. You catch yourself doing the same—stealing little peeks at her damp hair falling over her face.
Danielle shifts a little on the couch, pressing her thighs together without thinking. While you were making tea, watching you move around the kitchen so caring and gentle… she couldn't help it. Her mind wandered. Imagining you like this every day—coming home to you, you making tea for her like a husband. The thought made her pussy tingle and get wet. Just a little at first, then more. She got so shy she almost couldn't look at you when you handed her the mug. Now she's still wet, the warmth spreading under the borrowed sweatpants. She hopes you can't tell.
You bring two mugs back. She takes the cup with both hands, blowing softly on the hot tea.
"This is perfect," she whispers, taking a small sip.
More silence. More peeks. Your eyes drop to her lips when she drinks. Hers drop to your hands wrapped around the mug, then lower to your chest. You feel your face heat up.
After finishing the tea, she sets the mug down and hugs herself.
"I feel… kinda gross," she says quietly. "I was running around all day, crying, sweating… Can I take a bath? Please?"
"Of course," you say right away. "Bathroom's right there. Towels are clean. Take as long as you want."
She smiles gratefully and stands up, disappearing into the bathroom. You hear the door lock softly, then the water start running.
P4:
You sit on the couch, trying to distract yourself with your phone, but your mind won't stop. The sound of water splashing, knowing Danielle is naked in there, just a few meters away… it's too much. You imagine her under the warm water, soap sliding over her smooth skin, her small breasts, her stomach with sexy boobs, down between her legs. Your dick gets harder in your pants. You shift, trying to hide it, feeling guilty but so turned on. You've never been this close to a girl like this. You're a virgin—just like she is.
Inside the bathroom, Danielle sinks into the hot water and lets out a long sigh. It feels so good after everything. But her mind keeps going to you. Waiting outside. So kind. So handsome. She closes her eyes and her hand drifts down her body without meaning to. She touches her wet pussy lightly—still slick from earlier thoughts of you. She bites her lip hard to stop a moan. She imagines your hands instead of hers. Your mouth. How gentle you'd be.
After a long bath, she finally steps out, dries off, and wraps the big towel around herself. It covers her fully, but barely—hanging just above her knees, hugging her chest. Then she remembers: she didn't bring any clothes. The ones she wore here are dirty, sweaty, thrown in the corner.
She opens the bathroom door slowly, peeking out.
"Y/N… um…"
You look up—and freeze.
Danielle stands there in only the towel, wet hair dripping over her shoulders, skin pink and glowing from the hot water. The towel clings to her body, showing the shape of her small breasts, her slim waist, her hips. Her legs are bare all the way up. She holds the towel tight against her chest, looking down shyly.
"I… forgot to bring clothes," she says softly, voice shaking a little. "And the ones I had are dirty… Can I borrow something again?"
You swallow hard. Your eyes can't help roaming over her skin—her collarbones, her thighs. Your dick throbs in your pants, getting fully hard now. The bulge is obvious. You try to shift to hide it, but it's too late.
Danielle notices. Her eyes drop to your lap for a second, then flick back up to your face. Her cheeks go bright red. But she doesn't look away. Instead, she steps closer, still holding the towel.
"You… you're hard," she whispers, almost like she's surprised but not mad. More like… curious. Turned on.
You feel your face burn. "I'm sorry… I didn't mean— you're just… you look so beautiful. I can't help it."
She bites her lip, taking another small step. Now she's right in front of you.
"It's okay…" she says quietly. "I… I got wet earlier. When you were making tea for me."
Your eyes widen. "You… what?"
She nods, looking shy but honest. "Watching you… you were so sweet, so caring. I started thinking about you like… like my boyfriend. Or husband. It made me wet. Down there." She glances down at herself under the towel. "I'm still wet now."
The air feels electric. Your heart is pounding.
"Danielle…" you whisper.
P5:
She’s talking softly, voice shaking.
“I… I don’t know what to do, Y/N… I have nothing to wear, I—”
Mid-sentence, her hands loosen on the towel. She was gesturing a little, too nervous, too focused on your eyes. The towel slips.
It falls straight to the floor.
Danielle is completely naked in front of you (also she is naked for the first time in her life as an adult).
Her body is perfect. Small, soft, glowing from the bath. Her breasts are full and round—motherly, heavy in the most beautiful way, pink nipples already hard from the cool air and nerves. And between her thighs… her pussy is completely shaved, smooth, pink, tight-looking, innocent and untouched. The lips are closed neatly, a little shine of wetness already there from how turned on she got thinking about you.
Your mind goes blank for a second. All you can think is how stunning she is. How you want to hold her, kiss every inch, suck those perfect tits, taste that pretty pussy. You imagine her as a mom one day—your mom—and the thought makes your cock twitch harder.
Danielle gasps, hands flying up—one arm across her boobs, the other hand covering her pussy. Her face goes bright red. She turns her head down, shoulders shaking.
“Oh my god… I’m sorry… I didn’t mean…” Her voice cracks. Tears start falling fast. “I’m so embarrassed… I can’t believe this is happening…”
She starts crying again, harder this time. Not just from the towel—it’s everything. Kicked out of NewJeans. Beaten and thrown out by her family. Blocked by her members. And now standing fully naked, exposed, in front of a boy she likes. She feels humiliated, small, broken.
You step forward instantly, heart hurting for her.
“Danielle… hey, hey, look at me.” Your voice is soft but firm.
She shakes her head, crying into her arm, still trying to hide her body.
You gently take the fallen towel from the floor and hold it up, trying to wrap it around her again—respectful, careful.
“No, Danielle, it’s okay. You don’t have to hide from me. We’re safe here. This is home now. I don’t mind you—any part of you. You’re beautiful. Okay?.”
She sobs louder at your words, but slowly looks up.. “I got kicked out… my family hit me… my members don’t want me… and now I’m standing here naked like some stupid girl… I feel so worthless…” Tears stream down her cheeks.
“You’re not worthless,” you say strongly, stepping closer, still holding the towel open for her. “You’re the strongest person I know. You fought for what was right. And now you’re here—with me. I’ve got you. I’ll always have you. Nothing about you is stupid or wrong. Your body… your heart… everything about you is beautiful to me.”
You reach out slowly and cup her wet cheek, thumb wiping her tears.
She now stares at you, breathing shaky, eyes red and full of emotion. You try to cover her up again with the towel respectfully.
Then—but this time, suddenly—she pushes the towel out of your hands. Lets it drop again.
And she crashes into you.
Her naked body presses against your clothed one. Arms wrap around your neck. She pulls your head down and kisses you—hard, desperate, full of everything she’s feeling.
Your lips meet. It’s messy at first—tears and soft cries—but then it deepens fast. First kiss.
Her mouth opens. Your tongue slides in. Hers meets it instantly—swirling, tasting, exchanging saliva in a deep, wet French kiss. She moans softly into your mouth, hands grabbing your hair. You groan, arms wrapping tight around her bare back, pulling her closer. Her hard nipples press against your shirt. Your cock is rock hard now, poking against her stomach through your pants.
She tastes sweet—like honey from the tea, mixed with salt from her tears. The kiss is nasty, loving, hungry. Tongues pushing deep, lips sucking, breathing heavy.
After a long minute, she pulls back slightly, shy again, face flushed.
“I… I'm sorry. I feel I should leave…” she whispers, looking down.
But you’re not letting her pull away.
You grab her waist and spin her around, and push her back onto your bed. She lands on the sheets with a soft gasp, fully naked, legs slightly open, pussy glistening.
You climb over her fast, pinning her gently with your body.
“No running away,” you say low, voice thick with want.
Then you slam your mouth back onto hers.
This kiss is deeper. Rougher. Your tongue fucks into her mouth hard. She whimpers, resists for a second—shy, overwhelmed—but then melts. Her tongue fights back, sucking yours, moaning loud into the kiss. Saliva drips from the corners of your mouths. Her hands pull your hair. Your chest presses against her bare tits.
You break the kiss for a second and take off your shirt over your head—throwing it across the room.
Your upper body is bare now—lean from years of dance practice, skin warm.
You dive back down, kissing her lips again, then trailing wet kisses down her jaw, her neck. She arches, moaning softly.
“Y/N… oh god…”
You move lower, mouth reaching her collarbone, then the top of her breasts.
Her nipples are right there—hard, pink, begging.
P6:
Your mouth is hot on Danielle's neck now. You kiss slow at first—soft, wet kisses along her jaw, down to her throat. She tilts her head back, moaning quietly, fingers digging into your shoulders.
"Y/N… that feels so good…"
You suck harder, leaving little red marks on her pale skin. She gasps, then your hands slide down to her full breasts—grabbing them firmly. They fit perfectly in your palms, heavy and soft, nipples hard like little pebbles.
You squeeze one breast, pressing it up, while your mouth attacks the other. You suck the boobs & nipple deep into your mouth—hard, wet, noisy. Tongue swirling around it, teeth grazing lightly.
Danielle laughs suddenly, body shaking. "Ah! That tickles… no, don't bite!"
You tease her more—gentle bites on the nipple, then harder sucks. She laughs and squirms under you, half shy, half loving it.
You switch sides—grab the other boob, squeeze it tight, suck the free nipple even harder. She moans louder now, laughs mixing with whimpers.
Then you lift both her arms up over her head, pinning them gently with one hand. Her armpits are exposed—fresh, clean, smooth from the bath, a little shiny.
You dive in.
Your tongue licks slow up one armpit—tasting her skin, warm and clean. She freezes, eyes wide.
"Y/N!? What— oh my god!"
She's shocked, face turning redder than ever. But you're stronger—you hold her arms up easy, overpowering her playful wiggle. You lick deeper, devouring her armpit, tongue flat and wet, eating every inch like it's the best thing you've tasted.
She bursts out laughing, body shaking hard from the tickle. "Stop! Aahha! It's uncomfortable… haha, nooo, that tickles so much!"
But you don't stop. You switch to the other armpit—licking deep, sucking lightly, tongue digging in. She laughs nonstop, legs kicking a little, but she's trapped under you, loving and hating the tickle at the same time.
Finally, you pull back, mouth wet from her skin. You crash back into her lips—deep French kiss, tongue pushing some of her own armpit taste into her mouth.
She moans into the kiss, surprised but kissing back hard, tasting herself on you.
You break away and trail down—kissing her chest, her belly. You stop at her navel. That cute little belly button.
You push your tongue in deep—tongue-fucking her navel, swirling inside, licking every fold.
She squeals again, laughing and shaking. "Y/N! Not there— ahaha, stop, it's too ticklish!"
Her body twists, but you hold her hips down, tongue going deeper into her belly button until she's breathless from laughing and moaning.
Then you move lowe, grabs her thighs and licks them. Then you reach to her pussy.
Finally, you push her legs fully open.
Her pussy is right there—pink, shaved, dripping wet, lips swollen and glistening.
You look up at her once—eyes full of love and hunger.
Then you crash your mouth onto her pussy.
Tongue dives deep inside instantly—tasting her fully, sweet and warm and perfect. You eat her out hard—sucking her clit, tongue fucking her hole, lips sealed around her folds. Slurping loud, messy, devouring everything.
Danielle loses it. Ofcourse It's the first time her pussy is getting eaten.
Her body shakes uncontrollably—legs trembling, hips bucking up into your face. Tears fall from her eyes—not sad ones, but pure pleasure and love. She feels heaven. Like she's floating.
"I love you.!!!.. I love you so much.!!.." she cries out between moans.
You hold her thighs tight, not letting her escape, sucking her clit hard, tongue thrusting deep.
She loses all control. Her body tenses, shakes violently—and suddenly warm piss flows out straight into your mouth.
You drink it instantly—swallowing every drop, not pulling away even a little. It tastes like her—warm, intimate, everything you want.
She realizes what happened and panics. She just pissed onto your mouth!!
"Oh my god— Y/N! I'm so sorry!!! I didn't mean— I pissed in your mouth… I'm so sorry, that's disgusting, you'll hate me—"
But you pull up fast—face wet from her piss—and kiss her deep. Tongue kissing, as you let her taste her own piss from your mouth. She freezes, then moans softly, tasting it, kissing back harder.
You break the kiss and look into her eyes. "I loved drinking your piss," you say low, voice full of love. "Everything from you tastes perfect."
Her face goes bright red. She hides it in her hands, shy laugh escaping. "You're so naughty, Y/N!"
You grin and kiss her again—soft this time, then deep.
She suddenly pushes you back—stronger than you expect.
"Enough!" she says, voice playful but firm. "You ate me too much… now it's my turn."
She flips you over fast—pushes you flat on your back.
Your cock is rock hard, straining against your pants, tenting up obviously.
Danielle kneels between your legs, eyes on the bulge, biting her lip.
She reaches for your waistband…
P7:
Danielle kneels between your legs, eyes wide. Your pants are still on, but the bulge is impossible to hide—your cock strains hard against the fabric, twitching every time she looks at it.
She bites her lip, hands shaking a little as she reaches for your waistband.
“Let me take care of you now, Y/N…” she whispers. “You made me feel so good… I want to make you feel the same.”
You nod, breathing heavy. “Okay, baby… whatever you want.”
She pulls your pants and boxers down slowly. Your cock springs free—hard, thick, veins pulsing, tip already leaking pre-cum. You’re shaved mostly, but there’s some hair at the base and on your balls.
Danielle stares for a second, face red. “It’s… so big,” she says softly, almost to herself. Then she leans in, inhaling deeply. She loves your smell—musky, warm, all you.
Her small hand wraps around the base. She strokes slow at first, then lowers her mouth.
First kiss on the tip—soft, shy. Then she opens wide and takes you in. Warm. Wet. Perfect.
She sucks gently at first, lips tight around the head, tongue swirling. She tries so hard to please you—bobbing slow, taking more each time. You moan loud, head falling back.
“Fuck… Danielle… that feels amazing…”
She smiles around your cock, eyes looking up at you, happy she’s making you feel good. She giggles softly, the vibration making you throb in her mouth. Then she pulls off with a wet pop and moves lower.
She lifts your cock and goes for your balls.
One in her mouth—sucking gently, tongue licking all over. Then the other. She inhales deep again, moaning like she’s addicted to your scent.
She can’t stop. Her love is overwhelming—she wants every part of you. Then, without warning, she pushes your legs up and apart.
You feel her hot breath on your ass.
“Danielle— wait, you don’t have to—”
But she’s already there. She's about you lick your asshole.
Her hands spread your cheeks. Her tongue flicks out—first light lick over your hairy asshole.
You gasp hard. It’s dirty, hairy, not perfectly clean—but she doesn’t care. She licks again. Deeper this time. Tongue flat, dragging slow over your hole.
“Danielle… hey, why are you— oh fuck…”
It feels insane. Better than anything. Pure heaven. Her warm, wet tongue circling your asshole, pushing in a little, cleaning you, tasting you—no matter how dirty.
“I love you so much, Y/N…” she says between licks, voice muffled. “I want all of you… every part…”
You try to resist at first—hands pushing lightly at her head.
“Baby, you don’t need to do this… it’s dirty…”
But she shakes her head, pushes deeper. Tongue pressing inside your hole now—real rimjob, raw and deep.
That’s it. You break.
The pleasure is too much. You grab her hair—push her face harder into your ass.
“Yes… fuck, Danielle… deeper… lick my asshole deeper…”
She moans into you, tongue thrusting in and out, sucking your rim, cleaning every bit with love. You feel her nose buried between your cheeks, her mouth devouring your hole like it’s the sweetest thing.
Daniellie clarifies she's soo much in love with you now. She wants to make you feel the best. You’re in heaven. You love her more than ever.
After minutes of this—your legs shaking—you finally pull her up.
She sits back on her knees, face flushed, lips wet, a little spit on her chin.
For a second, shame hits her. She realizes what she just did—licked a guy’s dirty, hairy asshole. Deep. Like an animal. Her eyes water. “Oh god… I’m disgusting… I can’t believe I did that…”
But before she can spiral, you stand up fast. You grab her jaw—firm, sudden.
Then you push your cock straight into her mouth.
Deep and Rough.
You facefuck her hard—hips thrusting, cock slamming the back of her throat.
She gags instantly—eyes watering, throat bulging. Saliva drips down her chin. She tries to breathe, hands on your thighs, but you don’t stop.
“Take it, baby… you wanted all of me… now take this too.”
You fuck her mouth long—deep thrusts, holding her head still. She chokes, gurgles, even pukes a little—warm spit and bile dripping down her chest. But she doesn’t pull away. She takes it. For you. Finally, you pull out—strings of spit connecting her lips to your cock.
You grab her body, throw her onto the bed—on her back, missionary. Legs spread wide. Your cock—wet from her throat—lines up with her tight, virgin pussy. You look at her once—tears in her eyes, face messy, body shaking.
“I love you Danielle” you say low. Then you push in finally.
P8:
You’re on top of her in missionary, cock pressed against her soaked, virgin pussy. Danielle looks up at you—eyes wet, lips trembling, body shaking with need and fear. You push in—hard, no slow teasing.
“I love you, Y/N…” she whispers. “Please… be inside me.” You nod, kiss her deep once more, then line up.
The head pops past her tight entrance. She’s so small, so tight—her walls grip you like a vice.
Danielle screams.
A loud, sharp cry rips from her throat—“Ahhh! Y/N! It hurts!”
Tears flood her eyes instantly. Her nails dig into your back. She tries to bite her lip, muffle the next screams, but they come anyway—high, broken whimpers and sobs as you force deeper.
You don’t stop. You thrust rough—halfway in, then almost all the way. Her pussy stretches around you, burning hot, squeezing so hard it almost hurts you too.
“It hurts… it hurts so much…” she cries, face twisted in pain, tears streaming down her cheeks. But her legs wrap around your waist—she doesn’t push you away. She pulls you closer.
“Hug me… please hug me tight…” she sobs.
You drop your full weight onto her, arms wrapping under her body, crushing her into the mattress. Your chest presses against her soft boobs. You bury your face in her neck—sucking hard on her skin, then moving to her armpit again, licking the salty sweat there as you thrust deeper.
She screams again—louder this time—but muffled against your shoulder. “Y/N! Oh god… you’re so deep…”
You pound rough now—full strokes, hips slamming into her. Her tight pussy fights every thrust, but gets wetter, hotter. You suck one of her nipples into your mouth—hard, biting lightly—while fucking her without mercy.
Danielle cries nonstop—loud sobs mixed with moans. Tears soak the pillow.
You kiss her tears, suck her neck, her boobs—switching sides, leaving marks everywhere.
After minutes of rough missionary, you pull out suddenly. She gasps at the emptiness. You flip her over—no, wait. You sit up, pull her on top. You make her ride you. She straddles you slow, legs shaking. You're now fucking her in cowgirl position —chests pressed together, arms wrapped tight around each other. Skin on skin. Hearts beating as one.
She starts moving—slow at first, grinding, then bouncing harder. You thrust up to meet her—rough, deep. You’re both hugging so tight it’s hard to breathe. Her boobs squash against your chest. Your hands grip her ass, spreading her cheeks as she rides.
She moans into your ear—loud, constant. “Y/N… yes… harder…” Suddenly her body tenses. She freezes. Then she squirts a lot.. Warm liquid gushes out around your cock, soaking your stomach, thighs, the bed. She shakes violently, crying out in shock and pleasure.
“Oh god— I’m sorry— I’m squirting!”
Before she can recover, it happens again.
A long, uncontrollable stream of piss flows out—warm, endless. It floods everything—your cock, your balls, your legs, the sheets. The bed is soaked. The smell of her piss fills the room.
“No… no no no… I peed again… shit. The beds are dirty!!” She starts crying hard, trying to pull off you. “I’m so gross… the bed is wet… it smells… I’m sorry, Y/N…”
But you don’t let her go.
You grab her head, pull her down, and shove your soaked cock—covered in her squirt and piss—straight into her mouth.
She gags instantly as you facefuck her again—rough, fast, holding her hair tight.
“Clean it, baby,” you groan. “Taste yourself on me.”
She chokes, tears streaming, but sucks hard—tongue cleaning every drop of her own fluids off your dick. After a minute of rough throat-fucking, you pull out.
You flip her over fast—onto her stomach, then pull her hips up, in Doggy style.
Her ass is up, face down in the wet sheets. Pussy dripping. Tiny, pink asshole exposed—tight, virgin, untouched. You spread her ass cheeks wide.
“Now this hole,” you say low, voice thick with lust.
P9:
Danielle is on all fours, ass up, face buried in the soaked sheets. Her tiny pink asshole winks at you—completely virgin, super tight, barely a pucker. You try press the head of your cock against it, still slick from her mouth and pussy. But you notice her hole doesn’t budge. It’s way too tight.
You love her too much to hurt her badly. You don’t want to tear her, damage her. This has to feel good for her too—even if it’s rough. So, you grab her ass cheeks hard—spread them wide open.
Next, you lean in. Her ass is a delicious cake anyways.
First, you smell her—deep inhale right against her hole. Warm, musky, a little sweaty from everything you’ve done. Intimate. Hers.
Then your tongue comes out.
You lick slow—flat drag from her pussy up over her asshole. Danielle jolts, whole body shaking. “Y/N! No— that’s… that’s where I… oh my god, that’s so dirty!”. You start eating her asshole, licking it with your tongue.
She’s dying of embarrassment. Her face burns red. She tries to close her legs, but you hold her open strong. You don’t care how dirty it is. It tastes strong—sweaty, bitter, disgusting in the best way—because it’s Danielle. You love every part of her. You spit thick into her hole—then push your tongue inside.
Tongue-fucking her asshole slow at first, then faster. Swirling, thrusting, cleaning and wetting her from the inside. You eat her shithole like it’s the sweetest thing—hours feel like minutes. Tongue deep as it can go, nose buried between her cheeks.
Danielle shakes nonstop—shyness, tickle, pleasure all mixed. “It’s so embarrassing… that’s where poop comes out… and you’re licking it…” she whimpers, voice breaking. But slowly, her body relaxes. Her hips start pushing back a little.
It feels like heaven to her—like the deepest, most intense massage on her most private spot. Her moans get louder, softer. “Y/N… oh god… don’t stop… it feels so good…” You keep eating her asshole until it’s soaking wet, loosened just a little from your tongue and spit.
Finally, then you stand up on your knees behind her. You line your cock up again to her asshole. This time—you push.
The head forces in—pop. Danielle screams.
A full, lung-tearing scream—“AAAAAHHH! Y/N! IT HURTS! IT’S TOO BIG!”
Her eyes go huge, mouth open wide in shock. Tears explode down her face. Her legs go weak—knees buckling, almost collapsing. But you don’t stop.
You grip her hips tight and thrust deeper—inch by inch, forcing your cock into her impossibly tight virgin asshole.
She screams again and again—raw, broken, crying so hard her whole body shakes. “IT’S TEARING ME! OH GOD— MY ASS— IT HURTS SO MUCH!”… she doesn’t say stop still, but rather she takes it.
You start pounding harder. Her asshole grips you like nothing else—burning hot, squeezing so tight it almost hurts you too. Her screams slowly akso change. The pain mixes with something else.
Her cries turn into moans—high, shaky, full of love.
“Ahh… ahh… Y/N… it’s starting to feel… good…” she pushes back now. Just a little.
You rail her harder—full thrusts, balls slapping against her pussy. Then you grab her body—lift her up.
You pull her back against your chest—her full weight in your arms, legs dangling, ass impaled deep on your cock.
You hug her tight from behind—one arm around her chest, squeezing her boobs, the other around her waist. You bounce her on your cock—pounding her asshole upward, deep, rough. She’s completely submissive now, reduced to a shaking, moaning fucktoy in your arms.
Her head falls back on your shoulder. Mouth open. Eyes rolled up. Drool dripping. Danielle submits, “Y/N… I’m yours… all yours… my ass… everything…”
You kiss her neck, bite her shoulder, thrust harder. She feels full—owned—loved beyond words. You feel her body surrender completely.
P10:
You’re holding Danielle fully in the air, her small body impaled on your cock, asshole stretched wide around you. She’s limp in your arms—moaning, crying, completely surrendered. Every thrust upward makes her gasp, her back arched against your chest.
You want to finish inside her where it matters most. Without warning, you pull out of her gaping asshole—slow, making her whimper at the emptiness—and lower her just enough to line up with her pussy again. You start fucking her pussy now.
In one rough drop, you slam her down onto your cock, burying deep into her soaked, used pussy. Danielle screams again—half pain, half relief. “Y/N! Oh god— yes— fill me there…” You start railing her pussy hard in the same lifted position—arms locked around her, bouncing her full weight up and down your shaft. Her legs dangle uselessly, toes curling. Her boobs bounce against your arms. You bite her neck, suck her shoulder, growl into her ear.
You finally say some rough stuff: “This pussy is mine now… I’m gonna breed you…”…..Danielle nods frantically, tears still falling, but eyes full of love.
You fuck her like that for minutes—deep, brutal strokes, her pussy squelching loud around you. She clenches hard, milking you, pushing you closer. You feel your cum building—hot, unstoppable. Can’t hold back anymore. Then you throw her down onto the bed—hard and force your cock deeper inside her pussy. Missionary again. Deepest possible.
You pound her without mercy—hips slamming, bed shaking, skin slapping loud. Danielle’s mouth opens in a loud scream at first, then a long, broken moan. “Y/N… I feel you… so deep… please…”
You go harder—faster—deeper. Your balls tighten and with a final roar, you bury yourself to the root and cum. Thick, hot ropes shoot straight into her—pulse after pulse, flooding her womb. You grind against her cervix, making sure every drop stays deep inside.
Danielle lets out her last, longest moan—high, trembling, full of love and release.
“Ahhhh… Y/N… I feel it… your warm cum… inside me… so much…”
Her body shakes one final time. Her pussy flutters around you, milking the last of your seed. Tears roll down her temples into her hair. You collapse on top of her—both panting, sweaty, trembling.
The bed is destroyed—sheets soaked with squirt, piss, sweat, cum. The room smells like raw sex. But neither of you care.
You pull a blanket over your naked bodies. She curls into your chest, head under your chin. It’s quiet now. Just breathing. Hearts slowing together.
Danielle places your hand on her lower belly—right over her womb. “I think… you did something inside me really,” she says softly, shy smile through tired eyes. “I feel so full… like something already started.” You kiss her forehead and realize, you've breed a girl. “Good. You’re gonna be the most beautiful mom.”.. She blushes, hides her face in your neck.
But then reality creeps in—just a little.
You’re both idols (well, she’s not anymore, but you still are). If anyone finds out—if pictures leak, if someone saw her come here—your career could be over. HYBE would bury you. Scandals destroy lives. You stroke her back gently. “We’ll be careful,” you say quietly. “No one will know until we’re ready. I’ll protect you. Whatever happens, we’re together now.” She nods, trusting you completely.
Outside, the world is still falling apart for her—kicked out, family gone, friends like Minji, Hanni, others, silent.
But here, in your arms, on this messy bed, with your cum deep inside her and a new life possibly already beginning… Danielle has never felt more safe. Shes now more loved.
The elevator doors slide open on the fourth floor and the first thing you see is Kim Minjeong on her knees behind a ceramic plant pot.
You naturally arch a brow at the sight. She's crouched low, both hands gripping the rim of the pot like it's a trench wall, her entire body pressed against the fake fern sprouting out of it. She's wearing an oversized grey shirt that barely reaches mid-thigh - and from the way the fabric shifts when she moves, you're pretty damn sure that shirt is the only thing she has on. Her black hair is messy, half-falling over her face, and her bare feet are flat on the hallway tile.
You stop walking. You Blink. You tilt your head.
She hasn't noticed you yet. She's too busy peeking around the edge of the pot, neck craned, lips slightly parted, completely frozen in concentration. The hallway stretches in both directions, somewhere further down you can hear the faint sound of someone rummaging through a bag.
"So, goonette," you say, loud enough to echo off the walls, "what the fuck are you doing?"
Minjeong nearly leaves her body. She spins around so fast her hair whips across her face, grabs your wrist with both hands, and yanks you down to her level with a strength that should not exist in someone her size. Her eyes are wide, panicked, absolutely unhinged.
"Shut up," she hisses, pulling you behind the fern. "Shut up shut up shut up. She's right there."
You stumble forward, catching yourself on the wall. "Ow. What the hell, Minjeong?"
Minjeong jabs her finger down the hallway. You follow the direction and see a girl standing in front of an apartment door about six units down. She's got her back partially turned, one hand holding a tote bag while the other digs around inside a small leather purse. Even from this angle and this distance, you can tell she's gorgeous. Dark hair spilling past her shoulders, a cream-colored blouse tucked into a pleated skirt that stops well above the knee.
"That's her," Minjeong whispers. "Ning Yizhuo. The new neighbor."
"Okay. And?"
"And?" Minjeong stares at you like you just asked her what oxygen is. "And she's right there. In the hallway. Where I also am. At the same time."
"That's generally how hallways work."
"You don't understand." Minjeong shakes her head rapidly. "I can't let her see me. Not like this. I was waiting for you, I heard footsteps, I opened my door and she was already out here, and I just," she gestures at the plant pot, "improvised."
You look at the plant pot. You look at Minjeong, a grown woman in nothing but an oversized shirt, hiding behind fake foliage in a well-lit public corridor.
"This is the worst improvisation I've ever seen."
"Shut up."
"You don't even fit behind this thing. Your whole left shoulder is sticking out."
"I said shut up." She tugs on your sleeve again. "Look at her. Look at that skirt. Are you looking?"
You glance back down the hallway. The girl, Ning Yizhuo, apparently, shifts her weight from one foot to the other while she searches for her keys, and the movement makes the pleated skirt sway against her thighs.
"Yeah, she's hot. So go talk to her."
“Are you out of your FUCKING mind?" she whispers sharply.
"It's 2026, Minjeong. Lesbians have some privileges now. You can say hi to a pretty girl without being burned at the stake."
"I can't just go talk to her."
"You literally can. You walk over there, you open your mouth, and you say hey, I live in 69, nice to meet you."
"No. No no no no." She's shaking her head so hard her hair whips back and forth. "She's too beautiful. She's too perfect. Every time I see her I forget how to be a person. The first time I greeted her, I said 'day nice you'. Last week she smiled at me in the lobby and I walked into a glass door. A glass door. In front of her. She watched me do it."
"Jesus Christ."
"I'm in love with her and she thinks I'm brain damaged."
You open your mouth to respond, but then something shifts in the hallway. Ning has stopped digging through her purse. She's looking up. She's looking your way.
Minjeong suddenly drops flat onto her stomach behind the plant, and judging by the noise, it definitely hurt.
You're still half-standing, fully visible, and now there's a very pretty girl staring directly at you from twenty feet away with a slightly confused expression on her face.
"Hi?" Ning calls out. She takes a small step forward, tilting her head. Her face is even prettier up close. Round cheeks, full lips, a little furrow between her brows that somehow makes her look both concerned and adorable. "Are you lost?"
"No," you say, straightening up and trying to look like a normal human being who was not just crouching behind a plant with a half-naked girl. "I'm visiting a friend. Apartment 69. You know if she's home?"
Ning's expression softens. "Oh, the girl in 69? I don't know, honestly. I don't see her very often." Behind the pot, Minjeong clenches her jaw so hard you can almost hear her teeth creak. "She seems nice, though. Quiet. Try your luck, I guess."
"Thanks. I will."
Ning gives you a small wave and a smile that, yeah, okay, you understand why Minjeong is losing her entire mind. It's a very good smile. Warm and a little bit shy.
"Bye," Ning says, and then she finds her keys, unlocks her door, and disappears inside.
The hallway goes quiet. You count to three. "She's gone."
Minjeong rises from behind the pot like a vampire emerging from a coffin. Her face is bright red. Her shirt has ridden up on one side, exposing the curve of her hip, and she doesn't even notice. She just stands there, staring at Ning's closed door, mouth slightly open. You grab her arm and steer her toward apartment 69. She lets you. She's basically on autopilot at this point, shuffling along beside you in bare feet, still looking over her shoulder.
The second you're both inside and the door clicks shut behind you, she leans against the wall and slides down until she's sitting on the floor. "I'm a loser."
"Yep."
"A complete loser."
"The most pathetic dom I've ever met." You kick off your shoes and step past her into the apartment, placing your jacket on the arm of the sofa. It's messy in the way Minjeong's place is always messy, not dirty, just chaotic; a hoodie draped over a chair, three half-empty water bottles on the coffee table, her laptop open on the couch with what you suspect is Ning's Instagram still loaded on the screen. "You can choke me out and make me call you mommy but you can't say hi to a girl in a skirt."
"Shut up."
"You said that already."
"Then shut up again." She pulls her knees up to her chest. The shirt rides higher. She's definitely not wearing anything underneath it, and frankly, you already knew that because this is how it works with you two. She knew you were coming over. She was ready. And then Ning happened and now she's sitting on her own floor having an existential crisis instead of riding your face like she planned.
"Are you horny?" you ask.
She looks up at you with the most offended expression ever. "Of course I'm horny, idiot. I was standing meters away from her. I could smell her perfume. I'm soaked."
"Great. Take it out on me. That's what I'm here for."
That flush on her neck deepens, crawls up to her cheeks, and the corner of her mouth curls into something that isn't quite a smile. It's more like a switch being flipped. One second she's a puddle of useless gay panic on the floor, and the next she's looking at you the way she looks at you when she wants to break you apart.
"Yeah," she says, and just like that, there she is: The Kim Minjeong who knows exactly what she wants and exactly how to take it. "That is a great idea."
This is the thing about your arrangement with Kim Minjeong: you've been fucking for about eight months now, no strings, no feelings, just a mutually beneficial deal that started at a house party where she got drunk, told you she needed someone to use when she was stressed, and you said sure, because you're a simple man with simple needs and she's objectively one of the hottest women you've ever met. No romance. Never has been.
You keep calling her a lesbian, though she’s technically bi – she just prefers women every time. Men are just recreational, tools for her pleasure (and you’re no exception).
She's a dom through and through. With women, she's terrifying. Commanding, controlled, but with you, the dynamic bends. She tops, sure, most of the time, but there's a flexibility to it. A give and take. She likes that you can pick her up. She likes that you push back, that you don't just fold the second she gives an order. She'll never admit it, but sometimes she wants to be the one getting thrown around, and you're the only person she trusts enough to let that happen.
Dom with girls. A bratty little thing with you (when she feels like it).
You don't give her time to get up on her own. You close the distance in two steps, bend down, and scoop her off the floor. She yelps as you throw her over your shoulder like a sack of rice. Her bare thighs press against the side of your face and her fists smack against your back.
"Put me down! I'm the dom here. You can't just manhandle me."
"You're only a dom with other girls." You adjust your grip on her legs, one hand firm on the back of her thigh, the other settled on her lower back, and start walking toward the bedroom. "With me, you're still a submissive little slut."
"Only sometimes," she fires back, but she's laughing, her body shaking against your shoulder, that yelp of surprise already dissolving into breathless giggles that she's trying (and failing) to suppress. Her fingers grab onto the back of your shirt for balance. "This is so undignified. I'm supposed to be intimidating."
"You were hiding behind a plant pot thirty seconds ago. The intimidation ship has sailed."
"I will kill you."
"After I make you cum, maybe."
She smacks the back of your head playfully.
You carry her into the bedroom and throw her onto the mattress. She bounces once, twice, hair splaying out around her head, shirt bunched up around her waist. You were right. Nothing underneath. Just Minjeong, flushed and bare from the waist down, propped up on her elbows, looking at you with that dangerous half-smile that means she's already deciding how she wants this to go.
"What a gentleman," she says, spreading her legs just slightly wider against the sheets.
You pull your shirt over your head and toss it somewhere behind you and then you're climbing onto the bed, climbing onto her, one knee between her thighs and both hands planted on either side of her head.
Minjeong watches you the whole time. That half-smile still there, lazy and sharp at the same time, her eyes tracking you as you settle your weight over her. She doesn't move to take control. Not yet. She just lies there with her hair fanned out on the pillow and that stupid oversized shirt bunched around her ribs, bare from the waist down, waiting.
You kiss her. She smiles against your mouth. You can feel the curve of it, the way her lips pull tight before they soften and open for you. Her hand comes up to the back of your neck, nails dragging lightly through the hair there, and she tilts her chin up to press closer. It's slow. Familiar. You've done this enough times to know exactly how Minjeong kisses when she's wound up (desperate, messy, like she's trying to crawl inside you) versus how she kisses when she's settling in (languid, teasing, every movement calculated). This is somewhere in between. She's keyed up from the hallway but trying to play it cool, and you can feel the tension in her jaw, the way her fingers grip just a little too hard on your neck.
You drop your mouth to her throat. Her pulse hammers against your lips. You drag a slow kiss along the tendon there, down to the junction of her neck and shoulder, and that's where you find it. A faded bruise, yellowish-purple at the edges, right above her collarbone. Your work from last Tuesday.
"Still got it," you murmur against the mark.
"It takes forever to fade on me. I've been wearing turtlenecks like a catholic school teacher."
You press your lips to the hickey, then to her jaw, then to the corner of her mouth, then to her cheek. You pause there. Pull back just enough to look at her.
Kim Minjeong's face is something else. It really is. The bone structure alone is borderline unfair. But up close like this, with her hair messy and her cheeks flushed and her pupils blown wide, there's a softness to her that the sharpness can't hide. Long lashes. Lips bitten pink. She looks, in this moment, genuinely cute. Sweet, even. Innocent. And nobody in the world would guess that this girl has a strap-on collection organized by size in her closet and once made you edge for forty-five minutes while she ate a sandwich.
Your hand slides down. Over the bunched-up shirt, across the flat plane of her stomach, past the dip of her navel. She doesn't flinch, doesn't tense. Just watches you with those dark eyes, lips slightly parted, breathing steady but shallow. Your fingers trail through the thin strip of trimmed hair between her legs and then lower, and the second you make contact, the truth of her situation becomes very, very clear.
She's not just wet. She's slick. Swollen. Her lips are puffy against your fingertips, flushed and hot, and when you drag two fingers through the length of her slit you can feel the slickness coat your skin in a single pass. Eight months of sleeping with this girl and you know what each level of turned on feels like, and this is top tier. This is "I stood three feet from my crush and smelled her perfume and now my brain is soup" levels of arousal.
You press your mouth back to hers. Her tongue meets yours immediately, sliding warm and slow, and you keep your hand where it is, fingers resting against her, not entering, not pressing, just there.
"I love seeing you like this," you say between kisses, your lips brushing hers with every syllable. "All silly. All lovestruck. It's hard to even recognize you."
"Fuck off."
"Seriously. You're like a different person. The girl who sat on my face last week and told me I wasn't allowed to breathe until she finished would never hide behind a plant pot."
"You don't understand." She bites your lower lip, not gently. "Ning doesn't just mess with me. She messes with me on a cellular level. Like, my DNA rearranges when she's nearby. I become a different organism."
"That's the most dramatic thing you've ever said, and you once cried because a girl at a bar had pretty collarbones."
"She did have pretty collarbones." Minjeong shifts her hips, pressing herself against your still-motionless fingers. "And I didn't cry. My eyes watered."
She pushes against your chest. Not hard, but with intent, and you know this cue well enough to roll with it. You let her flip the position, your back hitting the mattress, and she's on her side next to you in an instant. But she doesn't climb on top of you. Doesn't straddle you. Instead, she twists around toward the nightstand, reaching for her phone.
"What are you doing?"
"Making you understand."
Her free hand finds your waistband. She tugs your pants down with a single efficient yank, underwear included, because Minjeong has never had patience for steps. Your cock springs free, already hard. She wraps her fingers around the base without even looking, thumb pressed against the underside, grip firm and familiar. Then she settles beside you, shoulder pressed to yours, and holds the phone up so you can both see the screen.
Ning's Instagram. Already open. Already loaded.
"Have you just... had this open? The whole time?"
"Don't worry about it." She scrolls up with her thumb. The grid fills with photos, and even in tiny square thumbnails you can tell this girl knows what she's doing with a camera. "Look. Everyone thinks she's this sweet little shy thing. And yeah, on the surface, sure. She posts these cute little aesthetic shots, coffee cups, sunsets, book stacks. But then."
She taps on a photo. It loads full-screen.
Ning, sitting on a windowsill, sunlight hitting her from behind. She's wearing a white tank top and shorts, legs crossed, chin tilted up. The light makes the tank top just translucent enough to show the shadow of her bra underneath. Her expression is serene. Very innocent.
"See? See that? She knows exactly what she's doing with that angle." Minjeong's hand starts moving on your cock. Slow, steady strokes, her grip twisting slightly at the head the way she knows you like. Her eyes don't leave the phone screen. "And this one." She swipes. New photo. Ning at what looks like a rooftop bar, leaning forward on a railing, wearing a low-cut top that compresses her tits together into a line of cleavage that is impossible not to look at. She's laughing at something off-camera, completely natural, completely devastating. "She posted this at eleven PM on a Wednesday," Minjeong says, her thumb swiping again, her other hand maintaining that maddening rhythm on your shaft. "Eleven PM. On a Wednesday. Who posts cleavage at eleven PM on a Wednesday?"
"Someone who looks good and wants people to know."
"Exactly. She's not innocent. She's a little slut who likes showing off. And everyone in her comments is like oh so pretty queen gorgeous and she replies with little heart emojis like she isn't fully aware that she's making people lose their minds."
She swipes again. And again. A photo of Ning at the beach in a bikini, a selfie where she's biting her lower lip and looking directly into the lens. A gym photo (sports bra, leggings, glistening with sweat, the absolute audacity of this woman). Each one, Minjeong narrates like she's giving a museum tour of her own personal torment.
Then she stops scrolling. Taps on one photo. Holds the phone closer. This one is different.
Ning took it with the phone behind her, catching the reflection in a full-length mirror. She's standing in what looks like her bedroom. She's wearing a dress. Tight. Short. White fabric that clings to every curve, hemline barely reaching mid-thigh. But that's not the part that makes your cock twitch in Minjeong's hand. It's the fabric itself. Slightly sheer. Just enough that you can make out, underneath the dress, the outline of her underwear. The faint color difference where the material thins over her ass. And her ass, in this photo, is the absolute center of gravity. Round. Full. The exactly kind of shape that the dress was designed to showcase, every inch hugged tight.
Minjeong's grip tightens on you. Her strokes get slower. She's savoring both the image and your reaction simultaneously.
"Look at that," she murmurs. "Look at her ass. It's so round. So tight. Do you see how the dress barely holds it? And those panties showing through, she knew. She absolutely knew when she put that dress on."
"Yeah," you manage, because her thumb is doing something truly unfair to the head of your cock right now.
"I think about this photo at least three times a day. Minimum. I've zoomed in. I've screenshotted it. I'm not proud of any of this."
"You shouldn't be."
"But look at it." She tilts the screen again, like you somehow missed it. "That's my neighbor. That ass is twenty feet from my front door at any given time. That ass takes out the trash. That ass rides the elevator. That ass exists in the same building as me and I haven't touched it and I might actually die from that fact."
You turn your head to look at her. Her cheeks are red. Her lips are wet. Her hand hasn't stopped moving. "So what are you gonna do about it?"
Her strokes falter for half a second, that same panicked expression from the hallway, the one that turns her from a confident dom into a disaster lesbian in zero-point-five seconds flat. Then she recovers, keeps stroking, and lets out a long exhale through her nose. "Nothing. Yet."
"I honestly expected a little more confidence from you."
"I need courage! I need time. I need to figure out if she even likes girls, and I need to do that without accidentally liking one of her posts from 2024 at four AM, which, yes, has almost happened."
"God, you're hopeless."
"I know." She swipes back to the mirror photo. Stares at it. Her hand squeezes your cock, slow and tight. "For now I can only fantasize about her. About what I'd do if she let me. What she'd sound like. What she'd look like underneath all those little outfits." She locks the phone and drops it on the mattress. Turns her head to look at you. "But I've got you for now." Her hand twists on the upstroke. "So let me use you until I figure the rest out.”
“I'm all yours, babe.”
Minjeong smiles at that, then lets go of your cock and grabs the hem of her shirt and peels it off in one smooth motion, tossing it behind her. It lands somewhere on the floor, probably on top of your shirt, and now there's nothing between the two of you.
You've seen her naked plenty of times. Eight months of this arrangement means the novelty of nudity itself wore off around month two. But Minjeong's body is still something worth looking at, and you let yourself look while she shifts on the bed, swinging one leg over your hips to straddle you. She's small. That's the thing that always catches you off guard, every single time, the sheer smallness of her. Narrow shoulders, a waist you can almost span with both hands, ribs you can count when she arches her back.
Her tits are on the smaller side, firm and round, nipples already stiff, small rosy peaks, puffy and firm. Her stomach is flat, tight, the faint outline of muscle there not from any disciplined gym routine but from the kind of lean genetics that some people luck into. Her hip bones jut out just slightly, two subtle ridges that frame the space between her legs like brackets.
She's tiny. She's maybe a hundred and ten pounds soaking wet. And she runs your entire sex life with an iron fist.
Minjeong settles her weight on your hips, her bare pussy pressing flat against the length of your cock. She's so wet that you can feel it immediately, hot slickness spreading against your shaft, coating the underside as she shifts her hips in a slow experimental grind. Her thighs tense on either side of you. She reaches down, wraps her fingers around your cock, lifts herself up just enough to position you, and then she sinks.
It's one fluid motion. No teasing, no hesitation, just Minjeong dropping her hips and taking you to the base in a single stroke. Her pussy swallows you whole, tight and soaked and burning hot, inner walls clenching around you as her weight settles into your lap. Her eyes flutter shut for half a second, lips pressing together, and then she exhales slowly through her nose and opens her eyes again.
She looks down at you. And gives you the most mischievous fucking smile you've ever seen on a human face.
It's the kind of expression that shouldn't be legal on someone this small, this cute, this outwardly innocent-looking. Her eyes are narrowed into pleased little crescents. She knows she looks good up there. She knows the visual of her tiny frame perched on top of you, back straight, shoulders back, every compact inch of her on display, is doing exactly what it's supposed to do to your brain.
Then she starts to move. Lazy rolls of her hips, grinding more than bouncing, working her clit against your pelvic bone with each forward push. You reach up and touch her face. Your thumb traces along her cheekbone, down to the corner of her mouth, and she turns her head just enough to catch it between her lips. Sucks it in to the first knuckle, tongue swirling around the pad, cheeks hollowing slightly. Her eyes stay locked on yours the whole time, still rolling her hips in that maddening rhythm.
She lets your thumb go with a soft sound and settles into a steady pace. Her pussy clenches around you every time she pushes forward, that grinding motion spreading her slick all over the base of your cock, making everything obscenely wet.
"So," you say, resting both hands on her thighs, "how was your day?"
"Fine. It was a good day, actually."
"Tell me more."
"Worked until like four. Nothing crazy, just emails and a presentation that nobody's going to read." She punctuates this with a particularly firm grind, her clit dragging hard against you, and her eyelids flutter. "Then I came home and played Burnout Revenge."
"The racing game?"
"PS2 classic. I'm running it through an emulator with upscaling to 4K. The textures hold up surprisingly well, actually. The crash physics are still unmatched in the genre, and at higher resolution you can really appreciate the particle effects during takedowns."
"That was extremely specific. Anything else?"
She bites her lip. The rhythm of her hips hasn't faltered once during this entire conversation, steady and practiced, she could probably fuck you and file her taxes at the same time. "And, obviously, I kept gooning to Ning."
"Obviously."
"The usual routine. Went through her tagged photos. Found a TikTok where she's doing that stretching trend. Watched it nine times. Locked my phone. Unlocked it. Watched it four more times." She rolls her hips in a tight circle that makes your fingers dig into her thighs. "Came twice thinking about her sitting on my face. Showered. Then you texted."
"So your evening was: vintage racing games, cyberstalking, and masturbating."
"Don't judge me."
"I'm not judging. Just a goonette living her best life. Gotta respect it."
She leans forward, planting her hands on your chest again, and the angle shifts. Now she's bouncing, lifting her hips until just the tip stays inside and dropping back down with a wet slap of skin. Her tits sway with the motion small enough that it's more of a jiggle, barely there, but you watch it anyway because she's gorgeous. Her stomach flexes with each rise and fall. The muscles in her thighs work visibly under her skin.
"She posted a story today," Minjeong continues, slightly breathless now but still committed to the conversation. "Just a mirror selfie. Gym clothes. Sports bra and those tiny shorts. You could see the outline of her..."
"Her what?"
"Her pussy." Minjeong says it like she's confessing a mortal sin. "Through the shorts. Just the shape. The seam was sitting right between her lips and I almost threw my phone across the room."
"You're unwell."
"I'm aware." She sits up straight and grinds down hard, taking you as deep as possible, and her jaw goes tight for a second. Her cunt is soaked, absolutely drenched, and every movement makes a slick, filthy sound that fills the space between sentences. "I screenshot it. I have it saved in a separate album. With the other forty-seven screenshots."
"Forty-seven."
"Don't start."
You slide your hands up from her thighs to her waist, gripping that narrow frame, thumbs pressing into the soft skin below her ribs. She feels impossibly small in your hands, fragile almost, and the dissonance between that and the way she's currently milking your cock with practiced efficiency is something you'll never fully get used to.
She plants her palms flat on your abs and picks up the pace. Faster now, less grinding and more fucking, her hips snapping down with intent. Her pussy is clenching in uneven pulses, tight enough that you can feel every ridge of her, every slick fold gripping your shaft on the outstroke. A strand of her black hair sticks to her forehead with sweat. Her cheeks are flushed dark pink.
"Ning. Tell me what you'd do if you had her. All of it."
That glassy, faraway look sharpens into focus, and the corner of her mouth twitches upward. She leans down, chest pressing against yours, and kisses you, her lips brush yours when she talks. "You want to hear it?"
"Every detail."
She rolls her hips once, grinding your cock against her front wall, and exhales warm against your mouth. "Okay. So first, I'd take my time. I wouldn't rush her." Her hips find a rhythm again, slow circular grinds, keeping you deep while she talks. You thrust up to meet her, a steady push from below, and her breath hitches before she continues. "I'd get her on this bed. Right here. And I'd just kiss her for a while. Like, actually kiss her. I want to know what her mouth tastes like. I want to learn the shape of her lips with mine." She kisses you again, brief, punctuating the thought. "Then I'd undress her. Slowly. I'd take that little skirt off first and just look at her legs. Run my hands up her thighs. Feel how soft she is."
"Romantic."
"Shut up, I'm getting there." She grinds down harder, her clit catching against your pelvic bone, and her jaw tightens for a second before she keeps going. "I'd kiss down her neck. Her collarbones. I'd pull her bra off and put my mouth on her tits. She's got perfect tits, you saw the photos. I'd suck on her nipples until she's squirming and pulling my hair."
You thrust up into her, firm and steady, and she gasps against your lips. Her pussy clenches around you, soaked and tight, and you feel her arousal running down your shaft onto your thighs. She's dripping.
"Then I'd go lower. Kiss her stomach. Bite her hip bones. And when I finally got between her legs..." Minjeong's breathing is heavier now, her hips grinding with more urgency. "I'd make her wait. I'd kiss the insides of her thighs. Breathe on her pussy without touching it. Let her feel how close my mouth is. She'd be begging by then."
"You think?"
"I know. She'd be grabbing the sheets and whining and pushing her hips up, trying to get my mouth on her." Minjeong bites your lower lip, tugging gently. "And I'd look up at her and say, 'Ask nicely.' And she would. She'd say please in that sweet little tone and I'd finally put my tongue on her clit and she'd lose her fucking mind."
You grip her hips and pull her down onto the next thrust, burying yourself to the hilt, and she moans against your mouth. A shaky, breathy thing that she immediately tries to talk over.
"I'd eat her pussy until she came on my face. I'd drink every drop." Her fingers curl against your chest, nails pressing crescents into your skin. "And then I wouldn't stop. I'd keep going. She'd be sensitive and twitching and trying to close her legs but I'd hold her open and keep licking until she came again."
"That's just foreplay?"
"That's just the beginning." Minjeong sits up slightly, just enough to change the angle, and sinks back down with a wet sound that echoes in the room. Her pussy grips you impossibly tight as she adjusts. "After that, I'd flip her over. Get her on her hands and knees. And I'd take my time looking at her from behind. That ass, spread open for me, her pussy swollen and wet and dripping down her thighs."
She's riding you harder now, the tempo picking up. Her thighs flex against your sides with each stroke, her abs clenching as she grinds forward. You match her rhythm from below, fucking up into her.
"I'd spit on her pussy." She says it right against your lips, no hesitation. "I'd watch it drip down. Then I'd finger her. Two fingers, deep, curling right against that spot. I'd finger-fuck her until her arms gave out and she collapsed face-first into the pillow."
"And the strap?"
Her eyes light up. Literally brighten, like you just said the magic word. "The strap! Oh, I'd make her earn the strap. She'd have to suck it first. Get on her knees in front of me and take it in her throat. Get it nice and wet while looking up at me. And I'd hold her hair and tell her she's a good girl."
She kisses you again, messy and open, all tongue and shared breath. When she breaks away, a thin string of saliva connects your lips for a second before it breaks. "Then I'd fuck her. Start slow. Let her feel every inch going in. And then I'd grab her hips and rail her until she screamed. I'd pull her hair and smack her ass and call her my little whore and she'd love it, she'd take it so well, she'd push back onto me begging for more."
You thrust up hard enough to make her yelp. She recovers instantly, grinding down, chasing the friction against her clit with desperate, needy movements.
"But here's the thing. That's all just the beginning. The real plan is bigger."
"Bigger how?"
"I'm going to turn her into a pet."
"A pet?”
"A kitten." She says it with absolute conviction. "I'm going to slowly, methodically, lovingly transform Ning into my personal kitten." She grinds down on you, rotating her hips in a tight circle that makes your toes curl, and keeps talking like she's not currently fucking you into the mattress. "I still have that collar. The one with the little bell. I bought it over a year ago and never used it because I never found the right person." Her pussy clenches around your cock, rhythmic, pulsing. "Ning is the right person. I'm going to put that collar around her pretty neck and hear that little bell jingle every time she moves. Every time she crawls to me."
"Crawls."
"On her hands and knees. Like a good kitten." She licks her lips. "First, the collar. Let her get used to wearing it. Sleep in it. Feel it against her throat all day and think about who it belongs to. About who she belongs to."
Your hands slide up her thighs, gripping her waist as you keep thrusting into her from below. She's dripping down your shaft, her arousal coating the insides of her thighs, making everything slippery and filthy.
"Then the ears. Cute little cat ears on a headband. She'd wear them when she comes over. Take off her shoes at the door and put on her ears and become my kitten." Minjeong's riding is getting erratic, less controlled, her body chasing something. "And finally... the tail."
"Tail?"
"Anal plug. With a tail attached. Long, fluffy, the kind that sways when she walks." Her eyes are glazed, dark, gone somewhere deep inside her own fantasy. "She'd wear all three. Collar with the bell. Ears. Tail. And she'd kneel at my feet and purr while I pet her hair and tell her she's the prettiest kitten in the whole world."
She drops her forehead against yours, breathing hard, her hips slamming down onto you with increasing desperation.
"A slow metamorphosis," she pants. "Step by step. From the sweet neighbor into my perfect little pet. Exactly like Kafka."
That makes you pause mid-thrust. "Kafka?"
"The Metamorphosis. Gregor Samsa wakes up transformed. Ning's transformation is just more... intentional. Guided. Consensual."
"I really don't think Kafka's book is about pet play, Minjeong."
She sits up, still riding you, still grinding, her pussy clenching in those telltale uneven spasms that mean she's getting close, and gives you a look of genuine academic offense.
"It doesn't matter. Let me tell you a secret about art: once a work is published, it no longer belongs to the author. It belongs to the public. And the public draws its own interpretation." She punctuates this with a hard grind that nearly makes you choke. "A work of art depends on its creator to be born, but once it's finished, its existence no longer depends on the creator. Barthes wrote about this. The death of the author."
"You’re pushing this concept to another level."
“If there are two things I take seriously, it’s literature and smut." Her thighs are shaking now, trembling visibly, and her rhythm is falling apart. She's close and trying to hold the conversation together through sheer stubbornness. "So yes. I'm going to give Ning a metamorphosis. A beautiful, filthy, calculated metamorphosis. From girl to kitten."
You grab her hips and pull her down hard, thrusting up into her, and her composure cracks. Her head drops back, her nails rake down your chest, and her pussy clamps around you like a fist. "Well," you manage, "better a kitten than an insect, I guess."
She laughs (or tries to, it comes out strangled and thin) and then you grab her thighs and flip her. One smooth motion, you've done this enough times to know how she folds, and suddenly she's on her back beneath you, black hair splayed across the pillow, legs wrapped around your waist, looking up at you with glassy, unfocused eyes and a mouth that won't stop running.
You slide back into her and she arches off the mattress. "Keep talking," you tell her, setting a deep, steady pace. "Tell me where I fit in."
Her arms loop around your neck, pulling you close, her lips brushing against your ear while you fuck her. "You'd be there. When I have her. I'd make you fuck her while I watch."
"Yeah?"
"On her back. Legs spread. I'd hold them open for you and watch your cock slide into her pretty little cunt." She clenches around you, hard, her heels digging into the small of your back. "I'd tell you how fast to go. When to stop. When to keep going. She'd look at me the whole time, begging me with those big eyes, and I'd just pet her hair and tell her to take it."
You pound into her harder and she gasps, fingernails raking down your shoulders.
"And when I'm done watching, I'd climb over her face and sit on it. Make her eat me out while you fuck her." Her hips are rocking up to meet every thrust, her pussy so wet you can hear it with every stroke, slick and obscene. "And I'd cum on her. I'd squirt all over her gorgeous face and her neck and her tits and she'd be dripping with it, covered in me, and she'd fucking love it."
"What about me?"
Her legs tighten around you. She's trembling, her whole body vibrating with tension, and her sentences are coming out fragmented, breathless. "You'd pull out of her pussy and jerk off on her face. All of it. Every drop. I want to see her pretty face painted with your cum. And then I'd lean down and lick it all off. Every streak. From her forehead to her chin. And I'd kiss her and push it into her mouth and she'd swallow it and thank me."
You drive into her deep, grinding, and her back arches so hard only her shoulders and hips are touching the mattress. "We'd take turns. I'd fuck her with the strap until she's screaming and then hand her to you. You'd fuck her throat until she's gagging and then give her back to me. Back and forth. Like she's ours. Our little toy. Our perfect little..."
Her sentence dies. Her mouth opens in a silent gasp, eyes squeezing shut, and you feel it before she says anything. Her pussy locks down around your cock in rhythmic, convulsive pulses, tight enough to make you grit your teeth. Her thighs clamp against your ribs. Her nails break skin on your shoulders. Her whole body goes rigid, suspended, every muscle drawn taut like a wire.
Then she breaks. The orgasm tears through her in waves. She shakes underneath you, her hips bucking upward, riding it out on your cock while incoherent sounds spill from her throat. Not moans, not screams, something between the two. Raw, guttural, the sound of someone who's been edging herself mentally for weeks on fantasies about her neighbor and finally found the right release valve). Her pussy flutters and grips and releases and grips again, milking your shaft in spasms that you feel all the way to the base of your spine.
You don't stop. You fuck her through it, pace relentless, chasing your own finish now. She's boneless beneath you, still twitching through aftershocks, oversensitive and whimpering every time you bottom out. Her hands slide weakly down your arms, grip failing, body completely spent.
It hits you thirty seconds later. That tight coil in your gut snaps and you pull out just in time, fist around your shaft, pumping hard. The first rope lands across her stomach, thick and hot against her skin. The second catches her ribs. The third drips between her tits, pooling in the dip of her sternum. She watches the whole thing with heavy-lidded eyes and a lazy, satisfied smile, her fingers trailing through the mess on her stomach, smearing it across her skin like lotion. "I love that," she murmurs. "I love feeling it land on me."
You collapse next to her. Both of you are breathing like you just finished a sprint. Minjeong stares at the ceiling, chest rising and falling, your cum drying on her skin in streaks.
"That was good," she says eventually.
"Yeah."
Silence for a few seconds. Comfortable. Then you roll your head to look at her.
"Take a quick shower."
She frowns. "Why the urgency?"
"Because while you're in there, I'm going to invite Ning over."
Minjeong sits up so fast she almost headbutts you. "Like, now? Right now?!"
"Right now."
"I'm not prepared. I don't know what to do. I don't know what to say. I have cum on my stomach. My hair is a disaster. I haven't mentally rehearsed any conversation starters. I don't even have snacks."
“Shower. Fix your hair. Put on something cute. I'll handle the rest."
She stares at you with the wide, panicked eyes of someone who's just been told their execution has been moved up. "What are you going to say to her?"
You shrug. "I'll improvise."
"That's the worst possible answer you could have given me!"
"Shower. Now. Go."
She goes. Reluctantly, trailing protests down the hallway, but she goes. You hear the bathroom door close, then the water start. You give yourself sixty seconds to pull your pants on, check your hair in the hallway mirror, and walk out of apartment 69.
Apartment 71 is right there. Two doors down. You knock. Footsteps. A pause (probably checking the peephole). Then the door swings open, and there's Ning.
She's changed since the hallway encounter. The skirt is gone, replaced by fitted jeans and a black blouse that you immediately cannot stop noticing. It's sheer. Not fully transparent, but enough that the dark outline of her bra is visible underneath and her hair is down, slightly wavy, framing that face.
"Oh, hi! You're the guy from earlier." She leans against the doorframe, smiling. "Did you find your friend?"
"I did, yeah. She was home."
"Good." Ning tilts her head. "So what's up?"
"Okay, this might sound random, but Minjeong and I ended up buying way too many drinks and it seems stupid for just two people to go through all of it. You want to come over? Just casual, hanging out, nothing weird."
Ning's eyebrows lift. "Minjeong invited me?"
"Basically, yeah."
"That's... huh." She crosses her arms, but not defensively. More like she's processing. "I thought she didn't like me very much, honestly. I always got the feeling she was avoiding me. Like, every time I see her in the hallway she kind of... disappears?"
You almost laugh. "No, she's just shy. Genuinely. She's one of those people who comes across as distant but really she's just terrible at starting conversations."
"Really?"
"Really. She actually thinks you're super nice. Talks about you a lot." (Understatement of the century.) "She'd love to get to know you better, she just doesn't know how to make the first move."
Ning's smile shifts. Wider, softer, and there's a pink flush creeping up her neck that she probably doesn't realize you can see. "That's actually really sweet. I've been wanting to talk to her too, I just didn't want to bother her if she wasn't interested."
"Trust me. She's interested."
Ning tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, glances back into her apartment for a second and then looks back at you. "Yeah, okay. Let me grab my phone. Give me like two minutes."
"Take your time. Apartment 69, whenever you're ready."
She grins. "Be right there."
You lean against the wall outside apartment 71, hands in your pockets, waiting. Through the open door you can hear Ning moving around inside (a drawer opening, something falling, a muttered "where did I put it"). She reappears thirty seconds later, phone in hand, slipping on a pair of white sneakers by the door.
"Ready," she announces, pulling the door shut behind her.
You walk her the ten steps to apartment 69. It's not a long journey. Ning could have done it alone. But you're the wingman tonight, and wingmen escort. You push the door open and step aside to let her in first. She crosses the threshold at the exact moment Minjeong rounds the corner from the hallway, freshly showered, hair still slightly damp at the ends, wearing a cropped tank top and the shortest pair of cotton shorts you've ever seen on a human being. Her legs look freshly moisturized. She smells like peach body wash from three meters away.
She sees Ning.
Ning sees her.
Minjeong’s expression glitches in real time. Shock. Panic. A vacant reboot stare. And finally, a smile pulled so tight it looks less like happiness and more like muscle strain.
"Hi," Ning says brightly, giving a small wave. "I hope it's okay that I came over. Your friend said you guys had too many drinks?"
Minjeong's eyes slide to you. There is murder in them. Pure, concentrated, premeditated murder. Then she looks back at Ning and the strained smile returns. "Yeah. Totally. So many drinks. Come in."
You close the door and head straight for the kitchen. "Let me check what we're working with." You open Minjeong's refrigerator. The interior is depressingly sparse (condiments, leftover rice in a container, half a lemon wrapped in plastic, and three cans of beer lined up on the bottom shelf). "We have a total of... three beers."
You grab all three, carry them to the living room, and distribute one to each person. Ning takes hers, looks at the single can in her hand, then looks at you.
"I thought you said there were too many?"
"Three beers is way too much for two people... if you don't think about it."
Ning considers this logic. Decides not to challenge it. Cracks her can open.
The three of you sit on the couch. Minjeong on one end, Ning on the other, you in the middle like a human buffer zone. Complete silence. You can hear the refrigerator humming in the kitchen. Somewhere outside, a car alarm goes off and stops. Minjeong takes a sip of beer. Ning takes a sip of beer. You take a sip of beer.
"Is that TV new?" you ask Minjeong, gesturing at the wall.
She follows your gesture. Stares at the blank wall. Looks back at you. "There's no TV there."
"Oh. You're right. My bad."
More silence. Ning clears her throat. "This beer is good," she offers. "It's really... cold."
"I like cold beer," you say.
"Me too," Minjeong adds. "Water as well. And soda. Anything cold. I like cold liquids in general."
You have never in your life wanted to leave a room more than you do right now.
"So," Ning says, turning slightly to face both of you, "how did you two meet?"
"Mutual friends," you say at the same time Minjeong says "Mutual friends." You glance at each other. At least you're synchronized on the cover story. The real story involves a house party, four shots of tequila, and Minjeong whispering something in your ear so filthy you nearly choked on an ice cube. But Ning doesn't need that information right now.
"That's nice," Ning says. "I don't really know anyone in the building yet. I moved here about three weeks ago."
"Where from?" you ask.
"Across town. I chose this place because it's closer to the university."
"Cool," Minjeong says. Then nothing.
This isn't going anywhere. The conversation has the energy of a dentist's waiting room. Ning is being polite, Minjeong is buffering, and you're running out of observations about temperature-sensitive beverages.
Time to go nuclear.
You stand up. "I'm going to grab something from the fridge." You take one step, then turn back toward Ning as if you just remembered something: "Oh, by the way, Minjeong thinks you're very, very, very beautiful. Isn't that great?"
You don't wait for the reaction. You hear Minjeong hiss behind you (something that sounds a lot like "I'm going to fucking kill you"), but you're already walking to the kitchen with a grin so wide it hurts your face. You open the refrigerator and start rummaging, slowly, giving them all the time they need.
From the living room, silence. After a moment, Ning finally asks, softly: “Is that true?”
You can practically hear Minjeong's heartbeat from here. A pause. A long one. Then her answer, quiet and unsteady: "Well. If you like hearing it, it's true. If you don't like hearing it, then he's a liar and I'll fight him."
Ning laughs. Warm and sweet, not polite. "I like hearing it, don't worry."
Another pause. You move a jar of pickles aside, pretending to search for something.
"Then it's true," she says, softer than you’ve ever heard.
"I'm not going to let you panic alone." That's Ning. Closer now. "I think you're beautiful too. And mysterious. Every time I see you in the hallway you vanish before I can say anything and I've been wanting to actually get to know you properly for a while."
"I've wanted to get to know you properly too." Minjeong's breathing is audible even from the kitchen. "Your whole body, too." Dead silence. "I mean. That's. I didn't. That came out wrong! I meant your whole personality. Your whole person. Not your body specifically. Not that there's anything wrong with your body, your body is... I'm going to stop talking now."
"It's fine."
"I'm so sorry. God, I’m so pathetic. The second I’m around a pretty girl, my brain just shuts off.”
"Minjeong." Ning murmurs, tender and sure. "I said it's fine. Actually, I'd really like that."
You're still crouched in front of the refrigerator, not even pretending to look anymore, just listening. Then your eyes land on something wedged behind the leftover rice. Chocolate. A full bar, dark, still in the wrapper. You grab it, stand up, close the fridge.
You turn around.
On the couch, Ning has one hand on Minjeong's cheek. Minjeong's fingers are tangled in Ning's hair. Their mouths are pressed together, Ning tilting her head to deepen the angle while Minjeong pulls her closer by the waist. Ning's lips part and Minjeong leans in, and the kiss turns from tentative into something unhurried and real.
You stand there holding a chocolate bar, mouth slightly open.
"Okay. Damn." You look down at the chocolate, then back at the couch. "That was fucking fast."
Neither of them hears you. Minjeong's hand slides from Ning's waist to the small of her back, and Ning melts into her like she's been waiting three weeks for exactly this. You take a bite of chocolate and lean against the kitchen counter to watch, because honestly, you earned this.
Minjeong has shifted from sitting beside Ning to climbing onto her lap, knees bracketing Ning's thighs, hands cupping her face. The kiss has evolved past tentative and into something hungry, Minjeong tilting Ning's chin up with her thumb, licking into her mouth, rolling her hips in these tiny, unconscious movements against Ning's legs. Ning's hands hover at Minjeong's, then finally settle there, fingers gripping the hem of the tank top.
They've completely forgotten you exist. You take another bite of chocolate.
Then Ning's eyes drift open mid-kiss and catch you standing in the kitchen doorway, casually eating a snack. She breaks away from Minjeong's mouth, lips swollen and pink, looking slightly dazed.
"What about your friend?"
Minjeong glances over her shoulder at you, then back at Ning. She doesn't climb off her lap. Instead, she settles more comfortably, running her fingers through Ning's hair.
"So, the thing is: he and I are fuck buddies."
"Oh.” It's the only sound that comes out of Ning's mouth.
"We have sex together. Like, quite often. It's a whole arrangement."
"Oh."
"And I was wondering if maybe you'd want to join us tonight? Like, I don't know. It'll be fun."
"I'm sorry, join you as in..."
"As in exactly what you're thinking."
Ning lets out a short, startled laugh. "Minjeong. We just kissed for the first time like two minutes ago."
"I know."
"And you're already asking me to have a threesome with you and your friend."
"I know how it sounds. It is insane. One hundred percent. I won't argue with that." Minjeong's thumb traces small circles on Ning's hip, her gaze steady even though her ears are turning red. "But I'd be lying if I said I haven't thought about it. A lot. Like, an embarrassing amount."
"You've thought about this. This specifically."
"You, me, him. In very explicit detail. Multiple times. For weeks." Minjeong swallows but doesn't look away. "Since you moved in, basically. I've had whole scenarios in my head that I'm not going to describe right now because you'd never look at me the same way again."
"That's... I don't even know what to say to that."
"You can say no. It's completely fine. We'll pretend I never said anything and just go back to kissing on the couch and I'll die of embarrassment quietly on my own time."
"No, it's not that. It's just." Ning glances at you again. You keep your face perfectly neutral. Switzerland. "This is a lot. I barely know either of you."
"I get that."
Ning chews the inside of her cheek. She's fidgeting with the hem of her top, twisting the fabric between her fingers. "Can I be honest about something?"
"Please."
"I find it really, really hot that you've been thinking about that."
Minjeong is going to die. You can see it happening, the superhuman effort required to keep her expression at calm and cool when every atom of her being is screaming. Ning covers her face with one hand, speaking through her fingers. "And it's so embarrassing to admit this but I've always wanted to try it. A threesome. Like, always. It's been on my list forever and I never had the opportunity or the nerve and now you're just casually offering it to me on a random weeknight and I..."
"You have a list?"
"Shut up, everyone has a list." Ning drops her hand. Her face is burning but her eyes are bright. "It's so kinky. It's so filthy. I can't believe I'm actually considering this."
"You're considering it?"
"I'm past considering it." She exhales, something reckless and electric settling into her expression. "Okay. Yeah. Okay. Before I lose my nerve and go back to my apartment and scream into a pillow for three hours about what I almost did."
Minjeong takes her hand. "Come see my room.”
The three of you file down the hallway. Minjeong pushes the bedroom door open and Ning steps in, her eyes sweeping the space. It's relatively tidy (Minjeong cleaned up most of the evidence), but a few things are still out. A bottle of lube on the nightstand. A silicone vibrator resting casually on the dresser like a paperweight. A harness draped over the back of a chair.
Ning stares at the harness, then at the vibrator, then at Minjeong.
You lean close to Ning's ear. "These are just the ones she left out. The whole arsenal is in the drawers."
"Drawers," Ning repeats faintly. "Plural."
"Top one is straps. Middle is accessories. Bottom is stuff she won't tell me about."
Minjeong shoots you a look but doesn't deny it. She perches on the edge of the bed, legs crossed, and pats the sheets beside her. "Sorry, the bed's a little messy. We were, um. He and I were having sex before you came over."
"Seriously?"
"Yes," you confirm, stepping closer. "In fact, we were having sex and thinking about you."
Ning's lips part. Her eyes go wide, bouncing between the two of you. "About me?"
"Minjeong came thinking about you." You say it plainly. "She talks about you constantly. She's been stalking your Instagram for weeks. Those photos you post, the ones in the tight dresses? She has a whole saved folder."
"Forty-seven screenshots," Minjeong adds quietly, apparently deciding that full transparency is the move now.
"Forty-seven," Ning echoes.
You guide Ning gently by the shoulders until she's sitting on Minjeong's lap, facing outward, her back against Minjeong's chest. Minjeong's arms wrap around her waist instinctively, chin resting on her shoulder.
"Minjeong is a certified perv, you’re her newest subject of observation,” you continue. "She hid behind a plant in the hallway tonight because you were wearing a skirt and she couldn't handle it."
"The plant," Ning says, something clicking. "I thought I saw someone crouching by that fern."
"That was her."
Minjeong groans into Ning's shoulder.
You don't waste time and lean down to kiss Ning. Soft, exploratory, tasting the beer on her lips, and she kisses you back without hesitation. Behind her, Minjeong holds her steady, fingers spreading across Ning's stomach. Ning pulls back, slightly dazed. "Having two people wanting me like this. Thinking about me like that. It's... it's messing with my head."
Minjeong's lips find her ear. You don't hear the whispers, but you know exactly what she's saying. Ning's breath hitches. Her thighs press together. Her eyes flutter shut. While Minjeong murmurs, you kneel down and untie Ning's sneakers, pulling them off one at a time. Then her jeans (button, zipper, easing the denim down her legs while she lifts her hips to help). Her blouse goes next, Minjeong helping from behind, and then she's sitting there in a black lace bra and matching panties, skin warm and flushed, goosebumps rising along her arms.
"Look at you," Minjeong breathes, running her palms over Ning's bare shoulders. She presses her lips there, a trail of kisses across the curve. "These shoulders. So broad. So pretty." She kisses the junction of her neck. "Your skin is so soft."
Ning shivers. You pull your shirt off. Take off your shoes. Unbuckle your belt. Ning watches, her blush deepening, a nervous little laugh escaping her when your pants hit the floor. "A guy and a girl at the same time. Wow."
"Get used to it," Minjeong murmurs against her neck. "I have a feeling you're going to get addicted."
You're down to your underwear now. You lean in and kiss Ning again, your tongue sliding against hers. Behind her, Minjeong's mouth works along Ning's neck, sucking gently, and Ning melts between the two of you. Trapped. Surrounded. Four hands roaming her body (yours tracing her collarbone, her ribs, the dip of her waist; Minjeong's sliding up her stomach, thumbs brushing the underside of her bra). Then Minjeong turns Ning's chin and the three of you meet in the middle, all tongue, breath and wet contact, mouths overlapping in a messy, three-way kiss that falls apart into smiles and reconnects again.
Minjeong taps Ning's hip. "Move up for me."
She shifts to the center of the bed, pulling Ning with her, and lays her down against the pillows. Ning's hair fans out dark against the white sheets. Minjeong reaches behind Ning's back and unclasps her bra with one hand, sliding it off her arms. Then her panties, peeled down slowly, Ning lifting her hips again, and then she's completely bare.
Minjeong stares, her gaze traveling down Ning's body with worship and hunger simultaneously. "You're so beautiful. Fuck, you're even more perfect than I imagined."
Minjeong pulls her own tank top off in one fluid motion. The shorts follow, kicked off the edge of the bed. No underwear (of course). She kneels beside Ning, fully naked, and reaches down between her own legs. Her fingers spread her pussy open, showing Ning. Swollen, pink, glistening wet, her clit hard and visible.
"See this? This is what you do to me. I've been like this since you walked in the door." She holds herself open, letting Ning look. "You have to take responsibility."
Ning's eyes are fixed between Minjeong's thighs. Her tongue darts across her lower lip. "I'll do anything."
"Lie flat for me." Ning obeys. Flat on her back, arms at her sides, chest rising and falling rapidly.
Minjeong swings one leg over Ning's head and settles her knees on either side. “If you want me to stop, tap my thigh twice,” Minjeong tells her. Ning nods in agreement. She lowers herself slowly, her wet pussy hovering inches above Ning's mouth, thighs framing that perfect face. Ning's hands come up to grip Minjeong's hips, pulling her down, and then her mouth is on her. Minjeong's breath punches out of her chest. Her spine straightens. Her fingers find the headboard for balance.
You settle between Ning's spread legs, lying on your stomach, and lower your mouth to her cunt. She's soaked, thoroughly, completely soaked, her inner thighs already slick. You drag your tongue flat from her entrance to her clit and she moans directly into Minjeong's pussy, the vibration making Minjeong gasp above her.
Minjeong is facing you, looking directly down the length of Ning's trembling body and into your eyes while you eat her out. Her pupils are blown wide. Her lips are parted. She rolls her hips against Ning's tongue and watches you work between those gorgeous thighs.
Ning's tongue drags flat against Minjeong's slit, tentative at first, tasting her, learning the landscape. You watch it happen from between Ning's thighs. Minjeong's face shifts from composed to fractured in a single breath, her grip on the headboard tightening, knuckles going pale. She exhales through her nose, slow and controlled, trying to hold her composure the way she always does when something feels too good too fast.
"Slower," Minjeong instructs, settling her weight down just a fraction more. "Take your time with me."
Ning adjusts. Her tongue narrows, tracing the outer edges of Minjeong's lips in long, patient strokes, avoiding the clit entirely, teasing without knowing she's teasing. Or maybe she does know. Her fingers grip Minjeong's thighs for purchase, thumbs dimpling the soft skin.
You lower your mouth back to Ning's cunt, deliciously wet now, her arousal smeared across her inner thighs, her lips swollen and flushed dark pink. You flatten your tongue against her clit and hold there, just pressure, no movement, letting her feel the heat of your mouth. Her hips twitch upward. You pull back an inch. She whines into Minjeong's pussy, and the vibration makes Minjeong's spine curve.
"She's good at this," Minjeong murmurs, more to herself than to you. Her hips roll forward, a slow grind against Ning's mouth, coating her chin, her cheeks. "Such a good mouth. Such a pretty, eager little mouth."
You circle Ning's clit with the tip of your tongue. Tight circles, building sensation, then you pull away completely. Kiss her inner thigh instead. Ning's legs tremble. Her hips chase your mouth and find nothing.
That's the game. You've played it before with Minjeong (she taught you, actually, during one of those early sessions where she sat you down and explained exactly how she wanted to be tortured). Build the pressure. Take it away. Build it higher. Take it away again. Make the body so desperate for release that when it finally comes, it breaks something. Ning is already responding to it. Every time you return to her clit, she's more sensitive, more reactive. Her thighs shake when your lips close around the swollen bud. Her hips buck when you suck gently. And every reaction feeds directly into Minjeong through her mouth, because Ning can't separate what she's receiving from what she's giving.
Minjeong grinds down harder. The restraint is gone now. She's using Ning's face, rocking her hips in steady, selfish rolls that drag her clit across Ning's tongue with each pass. Her pussy is leaving streaks of wetness across Ning's chin, her cheeks, the bridge of her nose. Ning takes all of it, mouth open, tongue working, breathing through her nose in short bursts between Minjeong's thighs.
"You're doing so well," Minjeong pants. She reaches down and pushes Ning's hair back from her forehead. "My perfect little slut. You were made for this, weren't you?" Ning moans her agreement into Minjeong's cunt, and Minjeong's eyes roll back for a second before she catches herself.
You slide two fingers into Ning. Slow, curling upward, pressing against her front wall while your tongue works her clit in lazy, unpredictable patterns. She's so wet your fingers meet no resistance, just the tight, hot grip of her walls clenching around you as you push deeper. You pump into her a few times, steady, feeling her pulse around your knuckles, then pull out entirely.
Ning's hips lift off the mattress, searching. Her thighs clamp around your head. You pry them apart gently and blow cool air across her soaked pussy, watching the muscles in her stomach jump. "Please," she gasps into Minjeong, smothered between Minjeong's thighs, but you both hear it.
You press your tongue flat against her clit again and hold. No movement. Just heat, pressure and the promise of more. Her legs start shaking.
Above her, Minjeong is losing her rhythm. The controlled grinding has dissolved into something needier, less precise, her hips stuttering and jerking against Ning's mouth. "Make me cum," Minjeong breathes. "Right now. Make me cum, Ning."
Ning's hands slide up from Minjeong's thighs to her ass. She grabs both cheeks, fingers digging into the flesh, and pulls Minjeong down hard against her face. Her tongue pushes inside. Not against the clit, not teasing the entrance. Inside. Deep, as far as she can reach, curling and stroking Minjeong's walls while her nose presses against Minjeong's clit.
Minjeong shatters. Her whole body seizes. Her head drops back, tendons standing out in her neck, mouth open, a long, broken moan tearing out of her chest. Her hips grind down in tight, frantic circles against Ning's face, riding the orgasm out on her tongue, her pussy clenching and releasing in visible pulses. Wetness floods Ning's chin, her neck, pooling in the hollow of her throat. Minjeong shakes through it for what feels like a full minute, her grip on the headboard the only thing keeping her upright, wave after wave rolling through her until she's gasping and oversensitive and trembling.
She lifts herself off Ning's face on unsteady knees. Ning lies beneath her, mouth and chin and cheeks glazed with Minjeong's arousal, chest heaving, lips puffy and swollen and glistening. And she's close. You can feel it in the way her pussy clenches around your fingers (you've slid them back inside during Minjeong's orgasm, three now, curling rhythmically against that spongey spot while your thumb traces circles around her clit). Her legs are shaking uncontrollably. Her abs are taut. She's right there, right on the edge, teetering.
"Please," Ning whimpers, looking up at Minjeong with glassy, desperate eyes. "Please, I need to, I'm so close, please let me."
Minjeong slides off to the side, settling next to Ning, propped on one elbow. She runs a finger along Ning's jaw, collecting some of her own wetness, and pushes it between Ning's lips. "You'll cum when I tell you."
"Please, Minjeong, I can't, I need it."
"You can hold it." She strokes Ning's hair, calm and collected now, fully back in control despite the fact that she was just falling apart thirty seconds ago. "Be a good girl for me."
You pump your fingers steadily inside Ning, curling on every outstroke, your thumb maintaining constant pressure on her clit. Her walls flutter around your knuckles in desperate, involuntary spasms. Her fists grip the sheets so hard the fabric bunches. Every muscle in her body is locked.
"Minjeong," Ning begs again. Tears are forming at the corners of her eyes, not from pain but from the sheer intensity of holding back. "I'll do anything. I'll be so good. I'll be your good girl, I promise, please, I'm begging you."
Minjeong watches her for a long, cruel moment. Then she leans down, presses her lips to Ning's ear, and whispers, "Cum for me."
Your thumb presses down hard on Ning's clit and your fingers drive deep and curl. Ning screams. Not a moan, not a gasp. A full, raw, wrecked scream that tears out of her throat as her back arches completely off the mattress, her pussy clamping down on your fingers so tight it almost hurts. Her thighs slam shut around your hand. Her whole body convulses, rhythmic, violent contractions that shake her from her core outward, and she keeps screaming through it, broken fragments of Minjeong's name and and sounds that aren't language anymore.
You work her through it until she collapses, boneless and twitching, her legs falling open, your fingers still buried inside her pulsing cunt.
Minjeong turns to you. "Clean her face."
You pull your fingers out of Ning and move up the bed. Her face is a mess. Minjeong's juices coating her chin, her cheeks, the sides of her nose, drying in sticky trails. You lean down and drag your tongue from her jaw to her cheekbone, collecting the taste of Minjeong off Ning's skin. Across her chin. Along her upper lip. The corner of her mouth. You gather all of it on your tongue, every slick, musky trace, then you press your mouth to Ning's and push it all inside. Your tongue slides against hers, feeding her Minjeong's arousal, and Ning moans into the kiss, her hands coming up weakly to grip your face.
When you pull back, Ning's eyes are unfocused and completely gone. "Daddy," she whispers.
Minjeong's eyebrows lift. She looks at you. You look at her. A charged, knowing glance passes between you. "On your knees," Minjeong tells Ning, shifting back into something commanding and absolute. "On the floor. You're going to suck his cock now."
Ning slides off the bed like her bones are made of liquid, settling onto her knees on the carpet, looking up at both of you with that ruined, beautiful, cum-stained face and waiting.
Ning wraps her fingers around your shaft. She doesn't put it in her mouth right away. Instead, she tilts her head and presses the length of it against her cheek, dragging it slowly across her skin, her jaw, the corner of her lips. Her eyes close. She nuzzles against it like it's something precious, the warm weight of your cock resting against that gorgeous face, and she exhales through her nose, content.
"Look at her," Minjeong says from the edge of the bed, legs crossed, leaning forward on her elbows. "She didn't even need to be told. Show us how much of a slut you really are, Ning."
Ning drags your cock across her other cheek, leaving a faint streak of precum glistening on her skin. She opens her eyes and looks up at Minjeong, searching for approval, and presses her lips to the underside of the shaft in a long, lazy kiss.
Then she takes you in. No teasing, no tentative licks. She parts her lips and slides you into her mouth, her tongue pressing flat against the underside, cheeks hollowing as she sucks you in to the halfway point. Warm, wet, tight. Her lips seal around the shaft and she pulls back slowly, then pushes forward again, finding a rhythm.
Minjeong leans back on her palms, watching with fascinated eyes. "Get it nice and wet for me. Every inch. That cock is going inside your little pussy next, so you better make sure it's ready." Ning moans around your shaft. The vibration rolls through you and your hand finds the top of her head, fingers threading into her hair. She bobs steadily, saliva building around her lips, coating you, making everything slick and messy.
"You know what's funny," Minjeong continues, conversational. "I've seen every single photo on your Instagram. Every one. That mirror selfie in the white dress? The bikini shots? That gym story where the seam of your shorts was sitting right between your pussy lips?"
Ning's rhythm falters for a second. She pulls off your cock, a string of spit connecting her lower lip to the head, and looks at Minjeong with wide eyes and flushed cheeks. "You saw that?"
"I screenshot it. You knew exactly what you were doing when you posted it. Little tease. Showing off that body, those curves, hoping someone would notice." Minjeong tilts her head. "Well, someone noticed."
Ning licks her lips, tasting the mix of saliva and precum. "I am a tease."
"You're more than a tease. You're a slut who posts thirst traps at midnight hoping someone will come put her in her place." Minjeong's voice is fond and cruel at the same time, a combination only she can pull off. "And here you are. On your knees. Drooling on a cock. Exactly where you belong."
"Exactly where I belong," Ning repeats.
She takes you back in her mouth, pushing past the halfway point, her throat opening up as she works more of you inside. Her hand wraps around the base, stroking what her mouth can't reach, spit running down her fingers.
"Tell me something," Minjeong says, sliding off the bed and kneeling beside Ning on the floor. She tucks a strand of hair behind Ning's ear, gentle, then traces her thumb across Ning's stretched lower lip where it meets your shaft. "What do you prefer? Pussy or dick?"
Ning pulls off with a wet sound. She jerks you slowly while she answers, her fist slick and tight. "I can't decide."
"Pick one."
"I can't." She rubs the head of your cock against her parted lips while she talks, smearing spit and precum across her mouth. "I want both. Together. At the same time. Fucking me."
Minjeong face shifts into a look of predatory delight. "Both at once. Greedy little thing. I bet you'd give up all your holes if we asked. Pussy, mouth, ass. Every single one."
Ning nods without hesitation. "Every one. All of them. I'd let you use all of me."
"Say it properly."
Ning's eyes lock onto Minjeong's. "I'd give you every hole I have. Both of you. However you want. Whenever you want. I'm yours."
Minjeong strokes her cheek kindly. Then she gathers Ning's hair into a fist at the back of her head and pulls, firm enough to tilt her face upward. "Open."
Ning opens her mouth. Minjeong guides her head forward, pushing your cock between those swollen lips, controlling the depth, the angle, the speed. Slow at first. She pulls Ning down to the midpoint, holds her there for two seconds, then lets her come back up.
"Deeper," Minjeong instructs. She pushes Ning further. Three-quarters. You feel the head of your cock brush the back of her throat and Ning's hands grip your thighs, steadying herself. Her eyes water. She breathes through her nose, adjusting.
"All of it." Minjeong's fist tightens in Ning's hair. "Take the whole thing. Gag on it for me."
She pushes Ning all the way down. Your cock slides past the resistance of her throat and Ning chokes, her whole body lurching, spit flooding around the shaft and dripping from her chin. But she doesn't pull away. Her fingers dig into your thighs and she holds herself there, throat constricting around you in tight, involuntary spasms. Tears bead at the corners of her eyes, catching the light.
Minjeong holds her in place for three seconds. Four. Five. Then pulls her off by the hair. Ning gasps, a thick rope of saliva stretching from your cock to her lips before it breaks and drops onto her chest. Her mascara has started to run, thin dark tracks beneath her lower lashes.
"Good girl," Minjeong purrs, wiping Ning's chin with her thumb. "Look at you. So messy already."
She pushes Ning back down. Faster this time, setting a rhythm with her fist in Ning's hair, fucking her face onto your cock with controlled, merciless strokes. Ning takes it. Her throat opens and closes around the head on every downstroke, spit bubbling at the corners of her mouth, dripping off her chin in thick, translucent strings that land on her tits, her collarbones, the floor between her knees.
"This is what all those Instagram photos were really about," Minjeong tells her between strokes, pulling her up for air then shoving her back down. "Every posed selfie, every tight dress, every lip bite. You were advertising. Begging someone to see through the pretty packaging and find the desperate little cockslut underneath."
She pulls Ning off. Ning coughs, gasps, saliva coating her entire lower face. Her lips are swollen and red, her chin is a mess, and her eyes are glassy with tears that haven't quite fallen. "Thank you," Ning rasps.
Minjeong cradles her jaw, tilts her face up, and studies the damage with open admiration. Ruined makeup, spit-slicked skin, puffy lips trembling with exertion. A masterpiece in progress.
"We're just getting started," Minjeong tells her, pressing a kiss to her forehead that is somehow tender considering the circumstances. "Keep drooling over that dick," Minjeong tells Ning, giving her hair one last stroke before standing up. "I need to get something."
She pads across the room to the dresser, bare feet on hardwood, and pulls open the second drawer. You hear her rummage for a moment, pushing things aside with purpose. Ning stays on her knees, her fist wrapped loosely around your shaft, stroking in slow, absent movements while she watches Minjeong's back. Saliva still drips from her chin in lazy strings. The bell hasn't arrived yet and she's already waiting like something trained.
Minjeong turns around holding a strip of black leather. Thin, elegant, with a small silver buckle and a tiny bell dangling from a ring at the front. She walks back with it draped across both palms, presenting it like a jeweler showing a necklace.
"Look at you," she says softly, stopping in front of Ning. Her gaze travels down from Ning's tear-streaked face to the spit glistening on her chest, the swollen lips, the collar of bruises already forming on her knees from the hard floor. "Kneeling there, serving both of us. Makeup ruined. Drool everywhere. You look like a perfect little pet."
"She really does," you agree.
Minjeong crouches to Ning's level. "Tell me what you want to be."
Ning's eyes drop to the collar, then rise back to Minjeong's face. "A kitten."
Minjeong's breath catches. The momentary crack in the dom facade where the girl who hid behind a fern forty minutes ago surfaces and can't believe this is actually happening. A goonette fantasy becoming real. Then she blinks and it's gone. "That's the perfect answer." She unfastens the buckle, opens the collar wide. "I have exactly what you need to be a proper domesticated kitten."
She reaches forward and wraps the leather around Ning's throat. Gentle, careful, adjusting the fit so it sits snug but not tight, the cool metal of the bell resting in the hollow between her collarbones. She threads the leather through the buckle and pulls it closed.
"What do you think?" Minjeong asks, looking up at you.
"Looks perfect on her." You tilt your head, studying the way the black leather contrasts against Ning's skin, the way the little bell catches the lamplight. "You told me you'd been saving that for someone special. Seems like you finally found her."
Ning smiles when she hears that. Minjeong cups Ning's face with one hand, running her thumb across her lower lip, smearing the mess of spit and precum that's collected there. Ning's tongue darts out and licks the pad of Minjeong's thumb, maintaining eye contact. Like an obedient kitten lapping at her owner's hand.
"So cute," Minjeong whispers. She traces the ruined tracks of mascara under Ning's eyes, the smudged eyeliner, the foundation that's gone patchy from tears and spit. "So beautiful like this. All ruined. You know what I want? I want you to always wear makeup when we have sex. Full face. So I can watch it fall apart piece by piece. Watch you go from perfect to wrecked."
"Yes, Minjeong."
"Meow for me."
Ning doesn't hesitate. She tilts her chin up, the bell jingling softly, and lets out a small, sweet meow. Breathy and earnest and completely without irony. Minjeong giggles. An actual, genuine, delighted giggle that breaks through the dominant composure entirely. She covers her mouth with one hand and laughs, eyes crinkling. "Oh my god. You actually did it. I can't believe you actually did it." Ning smiles up at her, proud, the bell swaying against her throat. "So obedient." Minjeong smooths herself back into control, the grin turning firm. "Go to bed, kitten."
Ning rises (legs a little unsteady, knees red from the floor) and climbs onto the mattress, settling on her back against the pillows. The bell chimes with every movement she makes. Minjeong crosses the room again, this time to a different drawer. You sit on the edge of the bed beside Ning and rest your hand on her calf, running your thumb along the muscle there. She looks at you with those big, glassy, wrecked eyes.
"You feeling okay?"
She lets out a nervous little laugh, the bell jingling as her chest moves. "I've never felt so many things at once. I'm nervous and excited and my brain is like... short-circuiting? In a good way. In a really, really good way."
"You were born for this."
She stares at the ceiling, a bewildered smile spreading across her face. "And to think I was going to spend tonight watching Gossip Girl again. For the fourth time. I was on season three."
"Ning, this is objectively a better use of your evening."
"So much better," she agrees, still smiling at the ceiling like she can't quite believe her own life.
Minjeong reappears at the bedside. In one hand, a pair of padded handcuffs (black leather, matching the collar, because Kim Minjeong is nothing if not aesthetically coordinated). In the other, a tube of lipstick. Deep red, almost burgundy.
She climbs onto the bed with the fluid confidence of someone who has orchestrated this exact type of scenario before (even if never with someone she actually had feelings for). She straddles Ning's waist, takes both her wrists, and guides them above her head. The handcuffs loop through a slat in the headboard and click shut around each wrist with a snap. Ning tugs once, testing. Secure.
"The collar is a good start," Minjeong says, settling her weight on Ning's hips and uncapping the lipstick. "But it's not enough. You're a kitten with owners now, and kittens need to be marked so everyone knows who they belong to."
She presses the lipstick to Ning's stomach. The tip is cool against warm skin, and Ning flinches slightly, her abs tensing, the bell chiming from the movement. Minjeong writes in slow strokes across that flat, taut canvas. Each letter precise. When she finishes, she leans back to admire her work.
CUM DUMP. Bold, red, slightly smeared at the edges where Ning's breathing made her stomach rise and fall.
"Perfect," Minjeong murmurs. She looks at you. "What do you think?"
"I was going to suggest something but anything I wrote would sound incredibly sexist coming from me, so I'm glad you took creative control."
"Haha, very funny." She caps the lipstick and tosses it aside, then looks down at Ning. "Do you agree with what it says?"
Ning cranes her neck to read it upside down. The bell jingles. Her cheeks flush even darker than they already were, but she nods. "Yes. That's me."
"Good girl." Minjeong runs her fingertips along Ning's sides, feeling the goosebumps rise in their wake. "Obviously, she still needs more marks. Look at this skin." She pinches Ning's hip lightly and a pink spot blooms instantly on the pale flesh. "So fair. So sensitive. Every touch is going to leave a trace. It'll be easy for you to turn her all red."
She climbs off Ning and settles beside her, one hand possessively resting on Ning's collared throat, thumb stroking the leather. She looks at you with that dark, commanding certainty that has no business existing in the same person who said "day nice you" to this girl three weeks ago. "Fuck her tight little pussy. Make her scream.”
You obey without hesitation, settling between Ning's spread thighs, her legs draped over yours, the handcuffs clinking softly against the headboard slat as she shifts. The bell on her collar chimes. The red lipstick letters on her stomach rise and fall with her breathing. You grip the base of your cock, still slick from her throat, and drag the head along her slit. She's drenched, swollen, her pussy lips parting easily under the pressure, and Ning's entire body tenses in anticipation, her wrists pulling against the cuffs.
You push inside her. Slow. Inch by inch. The heat is staggering, tight and wet and gripping you like a fist, her walls clenching around the shaft as you sink deeper. Ning's head drops back against the pillow and her mouth falls open, the bell jingling as her throat works around a soundless gasp. You bottom out, hips flush against hers, and hold there. Let her feel the fullness. Let her adjust to being stretched around you while handcuffed and collared and marked with lipstick on a bed that still smells like the sex you had with Minjeong an hour ago.
Minjeong, meanwhile, has moved. She's propped against the headboard beside Ning, one leg bent, the other extended, and she's rummaging through the nightstand without looking (because she knows the layout of that drawer by muscle memory at this point). Her hand emerges with a small, matte black vibrator, compact and curved. She clicks it on, the low hum filling the room, and presses it between her own legs with a satisfied sigh. She spreads herself open with two fingers and nestles the tip directly against her clit, her thighs falling apart, and settles in to watch.
"Tell me what she feels like," Minjeong says. "I want details."
You pull back halfway and thrust in again, a deep, measured stroke that makes Ning's back arch off the mattress. "Tight. Really fucking tight. Tighter than you."
"Obviously. I've been broken in. She hasn't." Minjeong adjusts the angle of the vibrator and her breath stutters for a second. "What else?"
"Wet. She's dripping. I can feel it running down my balls." You thrust again, establishing a slow, grinding rhythm, pulling nearly all the way out before sliding back in to the hilt. Ning's pussy grips you on every outstroke like it doesn't want to let go. "And hot. She's burning up inside."
"Hear that, Ning?" Minjeong turns her head to look down at her. Ning's face is flushed, eyes half-shut, lips parted around shallow breaths, the tear tracks of ruined mascara still visible on her cheeks. "Your desperate little cunt is putting on quite a performance."
Ning's hips roll up to meet your next thrust and a moan spills out of her, unguarded and raw. "It feels so good."
"Yeah?"
"So good. Oh my god." Her wrists strain against the cuffs as she tries to reach for you and can't. The bell jingles with every movement, a constant, delicate accompaniment to the wet sounds of you fucking her. "I can feel all of you. Every inch."
You lean forward, changing the angle, pressing deeper, and Ning's eyes snap open. You grab her hip with one hand, anchoring her, and set a rhythm that's firm and constant, each stroke bottoming out, grinding against her cervix before pulling back.
"I bet she'd love having two cocks in her," Minjeong says, pressing the vibrator harder against her clit, her free hand gripping the sheet beside her thigh. "Mine and yours. Both stuffed inside that greedy little hole at the same time. Stretching her open until she couldn't think straight."
Ning's breath catches. She turns her head toward Minjeong, and even through the haze of pleasure there's something uncertain in her expression. "I don't... I don't think two would fit in me."
Minjeong snorts a soft, ruthless laugh, pure dismissal. "We'd make it fit. We'd go slow and work you open and push inside together and you'd take it because that's what dumb little cum dumps do. They take whatever gets shoved inside them and say thank you." You punctuate her point with a particularly hard thrust and Ning cries out, her voice pitching high, bouncing off the bedroom walls.
"Careful," Minjeong purrs, circling the vibrator in slow patterns against herself, her own arousal glistening on the toy. "The neighbors are going to hear you. What will they think of sweet, innocent Ning from apartment 71? The nice new girl with the pretty smile who waves in the hallway? Moaning like a little slut in heat for two people she met tonight." She tilts her head, studying Ning's mortified, aroused expression. "What do you think Mrs. Park next door would say if she could hear you right now? She brings you fruit baskets, doesn't she? Sweet old lady. Probably thinks you're such a wholesome young woman. If only she could see you handcuffed and collared with CUM DUMP written across your belly and a cock buried in your soaking wet pussy."
Ning whimpers, flushing from her cheeks all the way down her chest, the embarrassment and the arousal tangling together until they're indistinguishable. You feel her cunt clench around you, tighter, wetter, her body responding to the humiliation even as her face burns with shame. You keep fucking her. Steady, controlled strokes, each one dragging your shaft along her front wall, each one forcing a small, involuntary sound from her throat. The bell hasn't stopped chiming. The handcuffs rattle against the headboard in rhythm with your thrusts. The red lipstick on her stomach is starting to smear where your hand grips her hip, the M in DUMP bleeding into a crimson streak across her skin.
Minjeong's gaze drifts to the floor. She spots her own shorts. She clicks the vibrator off, sets it aside, and leans over the edge of the bed to pick them up. She examines them for a second, turning them inside out, finding the crotch panel. Even from where you are, you can see the damp patch.
"Open your mouth," Minjeong tells Ning. Ning obeys, lips parting, and Minjeong presses the wet patch of fabric directly against her nose and mouth. Ning inhales and her eyes roll back, a full-body shudder running through her, her pussy clamping down on you so hard your rhythm stutters.
"That's what you do to me," Minjeong whispers, rubbing the shorts across Ning's face slowly, smearing her own scent across Ning's cheeks, her lips, the bridge of her nose. "Smell that? That's how wet I get just looking at you. Every time you walk past me in that hallway, every time I see you through the peephole, this is what happens. I soak through my clothes thinking about you."
Ning moans into the fabric, her hips rising to meet your thrusts, desperate and squirming. Minjeong bunches the shorts into a ball and pushes them into Ning's open mouth, stuffing the damp cotton between her teeth until her cheeks bulge around the makeshift gag. Ning's sounds become muffled, smothered, her moans vibrating through the fabric but unable to escape fully.
"Much better," Minjeong says, admiring her work. "Pathetic little animals shouldn't be so loud. You're a house pet, not a stray. Learn some manners."
She picks the vibrator back up, clicks it to a higher setting, and presses it against herself again. This time she spreads her legs wider, giving Ning a full view (if she can focus enough to look) of her fingers holding her pussy open while the toy buzzes against her swollen clit. Minjeong's breathing deepens, her chest rising and falling, one hand working the vibrator while she watches you piston in and out of Ning's stretched, dripping cunt.
"Harder," she tells you.
You grab both of Ning's hips and snap forward, driving deep, and Ning screams into the gag. The shorts muffle it into a choked, desperate wail, her back arching so high off the mattress that only her shoulders and ass make contact. The handcuffs strain against the headboard. The bell rings wildly.
"Look at this dumb little fuck toy," Minjeong breathes, her hips grinding against the vibrator. "Gagged with my dirty shorts. Drooling around them like a brain-dead puppy. Can you even think right now, Ning? Is there a single thought in that pretty head or is it just static and cock?"
Ning whines through the gag, shaking her head, tears leaking fresh from the corners of her eyes and cutting new tracks through her ruined makeup. Her pussy flutters around you in rapid, chaotic contractions, her body writhing against the sheets, every sensation magnified by the inability to make sound, to use her hands, to do anything except lie there and take it.
"That's what I thought." Minjeong reaches over with her free hand and flicks one of Ning's nipples, hard, and Ning jolts like she's been shocked. "Empty-headed little breeding hole. You don't need to think. You just need to lie there and let us use you. That's all you're good for. That's all you've ever been good for."
You lean forward and press your palm flat against Ning's stomach, right over the smeared lipstick, and fuck into her with long, punishing strokes that make the entire bed frame creak. Each thrust pushes a muffled grunt out of Ning's stuffed mouth. Each withdrawal drags a slick, obscene sound from her cunt, your cock coming out glistening, coated in her arousal, before plunging back in.
"Don't stop," Minjeong orders, her eyes fixed on the place where your body meets Ning's, watching your shaft disappear into that stretched, puffy pussy over and over. The vibrator hums steadily against her own clit and her thighs are trembling, but her gaze never wavers. "Keep fucking that worthless little hole. Ruin it."
Ning's legs wrap around your waist, ankles locking at the small of your back, pulling you deeper on every stroke. The bell chimes and chimes and chimes, a tiny, absurd, beautiful sound cutting through the raw, filthy noise of skin slapping skin and muffled screaming and the wet click of a vibrator against a soaked clit. Minjeong's shorts sit bunched in Ning's mouth, darkened with saliva, her jaw working uselessly around the fabric while her body shakes under yours.
You reach up and brush a tear from Ning's cheek with your thumb. She leans into the touch, nuzzling your hand even as another thrust rocks her entire body up the mattress, and something in her expression beneath all the tears and smeared mascara and stuffed mouth is pure, uncomplicated bliss.
Minjeong sees it too. Her cruel expression softens for just a fraction of a second (pride, tenderness, wonder at the fact that the girl she's been stalking on Instagram for weeks is currently gagged and handcuffed in her bed making sounds like a wounded animal). Then the mask clicks back into place.
"Good girl," she murmurs, and the vibrator hums louder against her.
You tighten your grip on Ning's hips and drive forward, harder than before, the slap of your pelvis against her ass echoing through the bedroom. Your fingers dig into the soft flesh at her waist, pressing deep enough that the skin blanches white around your fingertips before flooding pink when you shift your hold. Each thrust rocks her up the mattress an inch, the handcuffs clanking against the headboard in a metallic staccato, the bell on her collar singing its constant little song.
"That's it," Minjeong breathes from beside you, the vibrator pressed snug between her legs, her thighs glistening. She's watching the place where your cock disappears into Ning with an almost clinical fascination, her free hand gripping her own thigh. "Fuck her good. Really good. I bet you're loving that, aren't you? That wet, warm, tight little pussy gripping your cock so well."
"She's squeezing me every time I pull out."
"Of course she is. Desperate little hole doesn't want to let go." Minjeong shifts the vibrator's angle against her clit and her abs clench. "Her body knows what it's for even if her brain hasn't caught up yet."
You increase the pace again, snapping your hips forward with enough force that the bed frame groans against the wall. Your hands on Ning's hips are leaving marks now, red fingerprints blooming on her pale skin like stamps, and you watch them appear and darken with each adjustment of your grip. She's going to wear those bruises for a week. Little oval reminders pressed into her flesh that she'll see every time she showers, every time she changes, every time she catches herself in a mirror.
Minjeong leans over and spits on Ning's chest. A thick glob that lands between her tits and slides slowly down toward her sternum, mixing with the smeared red lipstick. "Dirty slut."
Ning's muffled shriek through the gag is somewhere between protest and ecstasy. Her hips buck up against yours, chasing the impact, her body arching into the degradation like a plant turning toward sunlight. The shorts stuffed in her mouth are soaked through with saliva, her jaw working around the damp cotton, drool leaking from the corners of her lips and running down her chin in thin streams.
"It's so good hearing her like that," Minjeong murmurs, pressing the vibrator harder against herself. "All those little choked sounds. Like a puppy whining through a muzzle." She tilts her head, studying Ning's tear-streaked, gagged, spit-covered face. "But now I want to hear her beg."
Minjeong reaches over and hooks a finger into the bunched fabric, pulling the shorts from Ning's mouth. They come out dark with spit, and Ning gasps, gulping air, her jaw stretching wide to relieve the ache. A thick rope of saliva connects her lower lip to the wadded cotton for a second before it breaks. Minjeong stands. Right there on the mattress, rising to her full height above Ning's prone body, feet planted on either side of her ribcage. Small but towering, naked, the vibrator buzzing at maximum in her hand, pressed hard against her swollen clit. Her pussy is flushed dark, her inner thighs slick with arousal, and she looks down at Ning the way a goddess looks at an offering.
"Beg me," she says. "Beg me to cum all over your body. Ask me to drench you. To bathe you in it. Make it sound delicious, kitten, or I won't give you a single drop."
Ning's face is a wreck. Mascara smeared to her temples, foundation patchy and streaked, lipstick bitten off entirely, her cheeks flushed so deep they're almost purple. She looks up at Minjeong standing above her while you keep fucking her in long, brutal strokes, and the combination of being split open on a cock and staring up at the woman she's been crushing on for three weeks breaks something loose inside her.
"Please," she moans, her wrists pulling uselessly at the cuffs. "Please cum on me, Minjeong. All over me. I want it. I want to feel it. I want to be covered in you, I want it on my face and my tits and my stomach, please, please give it to me, I need it, I need you."
Minjeong's legs tremble. The vibrator hums furiously against her clit, her hand pressing it so hard the skin around it dimples. "Are you a dirty little whore?"
"I'm a dirty little whore."
"Whose dirty little whore?"
"Yours. I'm your dirty little whore, Minjeong, please, please cum on me, mark me, I want to smell like you, I want to taste you, please."
You slam into Ning and she screams, the sound raw and open now that the gag is gone, and Minjeong breaks above her like a dam. It starts with a strangled moan that rips from somewhere deep in Minjeong's chest. Her knees buckle slightly, her thighs clamping together around the vibrator, and then it happens. She cums, hard, and the squirt hits Ning's body in a hot, clear arc. It splashes across her tits first, then her stomach, then her collarbones as Minjeong's hips jerk and pulse, wave after wave of fluid pouring out of her in rhythmic gushes. Minjeong's free hand grabs her own thigh for stability, her mouth open, head thrown back, a long, shattered moan pouring out of her that doesn't sound like the composed, commanding woman who was giving orders thirty seconds ago. It sounds like someone coming undone at a molecular level.
Ning squeals beneath the onslaught, flinching at first as the warm fluid hits her skin, then going still, then opening her mouth. She tilts her chin up and catches the last pulses on her tongue, her lips, her cheeks, letting Minjeong's cum pool in the hollow of her throat and overflow down the sides of her neck. There's so much of it. It runs in rivulets across her ribs, pools in her navel, mingles with the spit and the smeared lipstick until her entire torso is a glistening, dripping mess.
"It's so warm," Ning whispers, eyes wide, almost awed.
You stare. You've seen Minjeong squirt before (on your face, on your chest, once on the kitchen floor by accident), but watching it land on Ning (on that perfect body, in that collared throat, across those parted lips) while you're buried to the hilt inside Ning's cunt is something else entirely. It's the filthiest, hottest, most depraved thing you've ever witnessed in your life, and you know with absolute certainty that this image is going to be burned into your brain until the day you die.
Your composure snaps. "I'm going to cum."
Ning's legs lock around your waist, heels digging into your lower back. "Inside me. I'm on the pill. Please. Inside."
Minjeong drops to her knees on the mattress, still trembling from her own orgasm, and looks at you with glazed, heavy-lidded eyes. "Good girl. Cum inside her. Fill her up."
You bury yourself as deep as you can go, your fingers gripping Ning's marked, bruised hips hard enough to leave fresh prints, and let go. The orgasm tears through you hot and blinding, your cock pulsing inside Ning's clenching pussy, pumping thick ropes of cum against her cervix. Ning's eyes roll back, her lashes fluttering, her mouth falling open in a silent gasp as she feels the heat flood her insides. Her walls clamp down around you in rhythmic, milking contractions, coaxing every drop out of you, and she trembles from head to toe, a soft, broken little moan leaking from her throat that trails off into nothing as her body goes limp beneath yours.
The three of you breathe. Ragged, heavy, out of sync. The vibrator lies abandoned on the sheets, still buzzing faintly. You pull out slowly, carefully, and sit back on your heels. Ning's pussy is swollen and flushed, her lips puffy and parted, and as your cock slides free, a thick trickle of cum follows, oozing from her entrance, dripping down the curve of her ass onto the sheets beneath her.
"Look at her," you murmur, running your gaze across Ning's body. She's glowing. Literally glowing, her skin sheened with Minjeong's juices from collarbone to hip, glistening in the warm light. The remnants of the lipstick letters peek through the mess like a watercolor left in the rain. The collar sits snug against her throat. Her face is ruined and radiant and completely, utterly spent.
Minjeong crawls to the edge of the bed and looks between Ning's legs. She watches the cum leak from that swollen, used pussy, and her tongue drags across her lower lip slowly. "You," she says to you, not taking her eyes off the mess between Ning's thighs, "lick her body clean. Every inch. All of my cum, off every part of her." She settles onto her stomach between Ning's legs, face inches from her dripping cunt. "I'm going to eat yours out of her pussy."
You start at Ning's neck. The hollow of her throat, where Minjeong's juices have pooled against the leather of the collar. Your tongue drags through the warm, slick fluid and Ning giggles, her shoulders scrunching up.
"That tickles." You smile against her skin and keep going. Across her collarbone, tracing the ridge of bone, collecting the taste of Minjeong (familiar to you, musky and slightly sweet) off Ning's body. Down to her chest, your tongue flat against the curve of her breast, circling toward the nipple, lapping up every trace. Ning squirms, the handcuffs rattling, another breathless laugh escaping her as your tongue hits a sensitive spot along her ribs.
Then Minjeong's mouth touches her pussy, and the giggling stops. Ning's entire body goes taut. Her breath catches in her throat and comes back out as a long, trembling sigh that seems to drain every ounce of tension from her muscles. Her head sinks deeper into the pillow. Her eyes close. Her lips part. "Oh," she breathes. "Oh, that's..."
You move lower, licking a path down her stomach, through the ghostly remnants of the lipstick, tasting salt and Minjeong's cum and the warmth of Ning's skin underneath it all. Your tongue dips into her navel, circles it, continues downward along the soft plane below. Meanwhile, you can hear Minjeong working between Ning's thighs, the wet sounds of her tongue lapping at Ning's entrance, scooping your cum out of her, swallowing, going back for more. Ning's hips start to move. Subtle, involuntary rolls, pressing up toward Minjeong's mouth, then settling back, then pressing up again. Her breathing has gone shallow and uneven, little gasps punctuating each exhale, the bell on her collar chiming softly with the motion of her chest.
"Two people," Ning mumbles, her eyes still closed, her head turning to the side on the pillow. "Two people licking me at the same time. This is insane. This is so fucking good."
You work your tongue along the crease where her hip meets her thigh, that sensitive fold of skin, and she shivers beneath you. Minjeong's head bobs gently between Ning's legs, her tongue pushing inside, collecting the last of the cum pooled deep within her, and Ning lets out a sound that's barely human. Low, sustained, vibrating in her chest, the kind of sound someone makes when they've stopped trying to perform and simply surrendered to what their body is feeling.
Her fingers curl into fists above the handcuffs. The bell rings softly, endlessly. Her whole body glows under the lamplight, wet and clean and worshipped, and she melts into the mattress like she's never going to move again.
Minjeong lifts her head from between Ning's thighs, her chin glossy, her lips swollen and shining. She licks the corner of her mouth slowly, savoring, her eyes half-closed like she just tasted something transcendent at a Michelin-star restaurant.
"Your cum," she says to you, running her tongue across her lower lip one more time, "mixed with her juices. It's perfect. It's like they were made to go together. I could eat it out of her for hours."
She presses one final, lingering kiss to Ning's pussy (Ning twitches, oversensitive, a tiny whimper escaping her) and then sits up, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. "But now." Minjeong crawls up the bed until she's level with Ning's face, looking down at her with that predatory calm. "I need his cock. You've had your turn, kitten."
Ning blinks up at her, dazed and glowing, wrists still locked above her head. "What do I..."
"You're going to stay right there. Handcuffed. Watching me get fucked." Minjeong reaches over to the sheets where the vibrator lies dormant and picks it up, turning it over in her hand. She clicks the base once, twice, three times, cycling through the settings until the hum becomes aggressive. Maximum power. "And this is going to keep you company."
She spreads Ning's thighs apart with one hand. Ning's pussy is puffy and flushed, freshly eaten, still glistening. Minjeong positions the vibrator at her entrance and pushes it inside in one smooth motion. Ning's spine lifts off the mattress, her mouth falling open, a sharp gasp cutting through the room as the toy seats itself deep, buzzing furiously against her walls.
"Oh fuck," Ning breathes, her thighs snapping shut around the vibrator. "Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck."
"Don't you dare cum," Minjeong tells her, tapping her knee. "Not until I say." She turns away from Ning with the dismissive confidence of someone closing an app and moves to the center of the bed, positioning herself on all fours. Knees apart. Back arched. That narrow waist curving down into the swell of her ass, which is small and tight and perfectly round.
You settle behind her, one hand on her hip, and take a second to appreciate the view. Minjeong's pussy is swollen between her thighs, still flushed from the vibrator and the squirting, her arousal smeared across her inner thighs in glossy streaks. Her shoulder blades jut beneath her skin as she braces on her forearms. The knobs of her spine trace a delicate line down to the small of her back.
"Great ass," you tell her, and bring your palm down on her right cheek with a sharp crack. The sound rings through the bedroom and Minjeong jolts forward, a hiss escaping through her teeth, a pink handprint blooming on her skin before you've even pulled your hand away.
"Flattery will get you everywhere," she mutters over her shoulder. "Now put it in."
You line yourself up and push into her. Different from Ning. Familiar. Minjeong's cunt is wetter than you've ever felt it, still pulsing from the orgasm she had standing above Ning, and she takes you easily, her body opening up around your shaft with practiced ease. She drops her head between her arms and lets out a long, satisfied exhale as you bottom out.
You grab her hips and start moving. Steady, calculated strokes, pulling back until just the tip catches at her entrance and then driving forward, burying yourself deep enough that your hips smack against her ass. Minjeong turns her head to look at Ning. The girl is a wreck already, barely two minutes in. Her wrists twist against the handcuffs, the chain clinking, her hips writhing against the mattress in tight, involuntary circles. The vibrator hums relentlessly inside her, and you can see the tension in her thighs, the way her muscles clench and release and clench again as she fights against the building pressure.
"Are you enjoying the show?" Minjeong asks her, rocking back against your thrusts. "Watching me take his cock while that toy fucks your needy little hole?"
Ning's eyes are locked on the place where your body meets Minjeong's. She watches your cock slide in and out, glistening, stretching Minjeong's pussy around the shaft, and her lips part around a shaky moan. "Yes."
"Of course you are. Horny little slut. Can't go five minutes without stimulation or you start falling apart." Minjeong pushes back against you harder, matching your rhythm, her ass meeting your pelvis with a wet slap on each stroke. "I bet you touch yourself every night in that apartment. Alone in bed with your fingers in your pussy, scrolling through filth on your phone."
Ning whimpers, squirming harder, the bell on her collar ringing with every movement. "Minjeong, you're so beautiful."
The compliment catches Minjeong off guard mid-thrust. Her composure flickers for a second, she pushes her hair out of her face and smiles back at Ning. "You're beautiful too," she says, soft enough to sound sincere. “The prettiest little kitten in the world.” Then she flips the switch: "Now shut up and watch me get fucked."
You grip Minjeong's waist tighter and increase the pace, driving into her with more force, the bed rocking beneath the three of you. Minjeong drops her chest to the mattress, arching her back deeper, changing the angle so you hit that spot inside her that makes her fingers claw at the sheets. Her moans are low and controlled, the sounds of someone who knows exactly what she likes and is getting exactly that.
Ning is losing it. Her legs press together around the vibrator, thighs trembling visibly, her abs clenching in rapid spasms. Sweat glistens on her chest and stomach, mixing with the drying residue of everything that's already been spilled on her tonight. Her breathing has gone ragged, shallow, desperate little pants that hitch and stutter every few seconds. "Minjeong," she gasps. "I don't... I don't know how much longer I can hold on."
"You'll hold on as long as I tell you to hold on."
"Please. It's so much. It's right there, it's right there and I can't, I'm trying so hard to be good."
"Then try harder."
A tear spills down Ning's cheek, cutting a fresh track through the ruined mascara. Her whole body is shaking now, vibrating almost as intensely as the toy inside her, every muscle locked in a war between obedience and biology. You bring your palm down on Minjeong's ass again, lighter this time, playful, and she glances back at you over her shoulder. "You're being pretty mean to your new girlfriend."
"It's nothing. She needs to learn good manners from the start. You don't spoil a pet the first day you bring it home. You establish boundaries. You establish who's in charge." She clenches around you intentionally, her pussy gripping your shaft, and grins. "She'll thank me later."
Ning turns her tear-streaked face toward you. Those big, dark, beautiful eyes swimming with desperation, her lower lip trembling, the collar sitting snug against her throat with its little bell catching the light. She looks wrecked and gorgeous and absolutely at her limit.
"Please," she says to you, quiet and broken. "Please make her cum. Quickly. I can't hold it. Please, please, I'm begging you."
You look at those teary eyes and that quivering lip and your heart just squeezes. You lean forward over Minjeong's back, your mouth close to her ear. "No problem, princess."
You grab both of Minjeong's arms, pulling them back behind her. Her chest drops, her cheek pressing flat against the mattress, her spine bowing into a deep, sharp arch. She yelps at the sudden shift, her shoulders straining, her body completely at your mercy with her wrists locked in your grip behind her back.
You start fucking her hard. Not the measured strokes from before. This is punishing. Brutal. Your hips snap forward with everything you have, slamming into Minjeong's pussy. The slap of skin on skin is deafening, drowning out the buzz of the vibrator, drowning out the rattle of Ning's handcuffs. Minjeong's moans dissolve into sharp, staccato cries, each one punched out of her by the impact of your hips against her ass, her body jolting forward with every thrust and being yanked back by the grip on her wrists.
The bed creaks dangerously. Ning writhes beside you both, tears streaming freely now, her teeth sinking into her lower lip hard enough to leave marks, every ounce of her willpower focused on the single task of not letting go while the vibrator destroys her from the inside. Her thighs clamp together and release and clamp again, her hips bucking against nothing, the bell ringing wildly with every spasm.
And Minjeong, face pressed to the sheets, arms pinned behind her, being railed from behind with her new pet crying beside her and a bruise forming on her ass in the shape of your hand, lets out a breathless, broken laugh that's equal parts pleasure and disbelief.
"This isn't fair," Minjeong gasps into the mattress. "You two conspired against me. You plotted. This is a coup. This is a hostile takeover of my own bedroom and I won't..."
The rest of the sentence dies in her throat because you slam into her hard enough to shunt her forward on the bed, and what comes out instead is a moan so loud it fills every corner of the room. Her back arches impossibly deep, her shoulder blades pressing together, her fingers flexing uselessly in your grip.
"Say you love my dick."
"I'm not going to..." Another thrust. Her entire body shudders. "That's so... you can't just..."
You pull back to the tip and drive forward again, grinding deep, pressing against that spot inside her that turns her brain to static. Her thighs tremble violently. Her toes curl into the sheets. "Say it."
"I love your dick," she chokes out, and the words dissolve into a ragged moan that she buries in the mattress. "I love your dick, okay, I love it, it's so deep, fuck, I hate you both so much." You don't let up. Each stroke is full and punishing, your hips colliding with her ass, the wet slap of contact filling the bedroom alongside Ning's desperate whimpering and the relentless hum of the vibrator. Minjeong's pussy clenches around you in erratic pulses, her walls fluttering, her body winding tighter and tighter like a spring being cranked past its limit.
Her moans climb in pitch. Her knees slide wider apart on the sheets. She tries to say something (probably another complaint about fairness) but it comes out as nothing, just air and sound, her jaw hanging open, drool pooling on the mattress beneath her cheek. You feel the exact moment it starts. Her pussy locks around your cock in a vice grip, her whole body going rigid, and then the orgasm crashes through her.
She screams. Face down, arms restrained, pinned and filled and wrecked, Kim Minjeong screams into her own sheets while her cunt pulses around you in violent, rhythmic contractions. Her hips buck backwards, grinding against you, riding it out, her spine rolling in waves. You hold her wrists and stay buried deep while she comes apart, letting her pussy milk the length of your shaft through every spasm, every aftershock, every trembling pulse that ripples through her body for what feels like a solid thirty seconds.
When it subsides, you release her arms. They fall to the mattress like dead weight. Minjeong lies face down, breathing in shattered gasps, her skin flushed from her neck to her lower back. She turns her head to the side and blinks once, twice, refocusing on reality. "That," she pants, "was not fair."
"You enjoyed it."
"Irrelevant." She takes one more deep breath, then pushes herself up onto her elbows and looks at Ning. The girl is a disaster. Tears streaming, teeth clenched, every muscle in her body locked in a full-body tremor, the vibrator still buzzing mercilessly inside her. Her thighs are clamped together so tightly her legs are shaking, and her wrists have gone white where they strain against the cuffs. She looks like she's going to shatter.
Minjeong softens. Just a fraction. Just enough. "Okay, kitten. You can cum now."
Ning doesn't even process the words for a second. She stares at Minjeong with glazed, uncomprehending eyes, and then it registers, and then everything she's been holding back for the last ten minutes detonates at once.
Her back arches off the bed so hard the handcuffs wrench against the headboard with a metallic crack. Her mouth opens wide, a raw, wrecked scream tearing from her lungs, and her pussy clamps down on the vibrator and pushes it halfway out as she squirts. It's violent. A forceful gush of clear fluid that arcs from between her clenched thighs, soaking the sheets beneath her, splashing against her own legs, pooling in the creases of the mattress. Her entire body convulses, hips bucking off the bed in sharp, involuntary jerks, the bell on her collar ringing frantically.
Minjeong is right there. She reaches between Ning's legs and presses her palm flat against her pussy, rubbing in firm, circular strokes through the squirt, through the contractions, keeping the pressure steady while Ning convulses beneath her hand. "That's it. Let it all out. Give me everything."
Ning squirts again, a second wave that coats Minjeong's wrist and forearm in warm, slick fluid. Her screams dissolve into broken sobs, her body jerking and twitching, riding the orgasm far past the point of pleasure and into something overwhelming and raw. The vibrator buzzes against Minjeong's palm, trapped between her hand and Ning's pulsing cunt, and Ning's legs kick weakly at the soaked sheets.
When it finally subsides, Ning goes completely limp. Every muscle releases at once, like someone cut her strings. She sinks into the mattress, chest heaving, eyes unfocused, mouth slightly open, tears and sweat and mascara streaking her face. The bell rests silent against her throat for the first time in what feels like hours. She looks demolished. Thoroughly, comprehensively, beautifully ruined.
Minjeong pulls the vibrator out gently (Ning flinches, whimpers, then settles) and clicks it off. She sets it aside and reaches for the handcuffs, producing a small key from the nightstand drawer. She unlocks the left cuff first, then the right, and Ning's arms fall to the mattress like they've forgotten how to be arms. Red marks circle both wrists where the leather pressed into skin.
Minjeong lifts each wrist and presses her lips to the marks. Left, then right. Gentle kisses, barely there, tracing the indentations with her mouth. She doesn't say anything.
Then she stands. She crosses to the dresser and pulls open the top drawer (the one you mentioned to Ning earlier, the strap-on armory). She surveys her options for a moment, selects one with the casual authority of a sommelier choosing a bottle, and steps into the harness. It's matte black, sleek, the silicone cock attached to it a reasonable size (not the biggest in her collection, you know, but enough to make a point). She adjusts the straps around her hips and thighs with efficient movements, tightening buckles, checking the fit, as calm as someone tying their shoes.
She turns back toward the bed. Standing at the foot of it, naked except for the harness, the strap jutting from between her slim hips, hands resting loosely at her sides. She looks at Ning, still spread-eagled and trembling on the soaked sheets, and tilts her head.
"Come here, kitten." Ning lifts her head from the pillow. Her eyes are glassy, unfocused, still drifting somewhere between consciousness and the afterglow of the most intense orgasm of her life. She blinks at Minjeong. Processes the command. Processes the strap-on hanging between Minjeong's legs. Swallows hard. "Crawl."
Ning rolls onto her stomach. Her arms shake as she pushes herself up onto her hands and knees, the bell on her collar jingling with the effort. She's unsteady, swaying slightly, her limbs still trembling from the aftershocks. But she crawls. Slowly, carefully, across the ruined sheets, one hand in front of the other, knees sliding through the wet patches she left behind, moving toward Minjeong at the foot of the bed.
She stops in front of Minjeong. On her hands and knees at the edge of the mattress, eye level with the strap. The bell hangs beneath her chin, swaying gently. Her hair falls in messy curtains around her face. Minjeong reaches down and tilts Ning's chin up with two fingers. Studies her. The smeared makeup, the tear tracks, the swollen lips, the flush that extends from her cheeks down her neck and across her chest. The collar sitting snug against her throat. The faint red marks from the handcuffs circling her wrists.
"You smell like a whore," Minjeong tells her. "Like cum and sweat and pussy. Like someone who spent the last hour being used as a fuck toy by two people she barely knows. You reek of it."
Ning's lips tremble. She doesn't look away.
"Meow for me."
Ning meows. Soft, small, slightly hoarse from all the screaming, the sound catching in her raw throat. The bell jingles as her chin dips with the effort. Minjeong smiles. She strokes Ning's hair once, tucking a matted strand behind her ear. "See this?" She wraps her hand around the shaft of the strap and angles it toward Ning's face, the tip brushing her lower lip. "This is for you. Your job is to worship it. Not suck it, not blow it. Worship it. Like it's the most important thing in your world. Starting now."
Ning's lips part. She extends her tongue and touches it to the underside of the shaft, just below the head, and drags it slowly upward. Her eyes stay locked on Minjeong's. Wide, dark, still glistening with tears, unblinking. She licks a stripe from base to tip, then closes her lips around the head and sinks forward, taking the first few inches into her mouth with reverent, unhurried devotion. No gagging, no desperation. Slow. Her cheeks hollow gently as she sucks, her tongue working the underside, and she never once breaks eye contact with the woman standing above her.
Minjeong's hand settles on top of Ning's head, fingers threading into her damp, tangled hair. She watches her collared kitten worship the strap with an expression you've never seen on her before. Possession, tenderness, hunger, disbelief, all layered on top of each other. Her thumb traces circles on Ning's scalp. The bell chimes softly with each gentle bob of Ning's head. "Good girl," Minjeong whispers. "My good girl.”
Ning takes her time. Her tongue traces the ridge beneath the head of the strap, slowly, mapping the shape of it like she's memorizing every contour. She pulls back and presses her lips to the side of the shaft, kissing down toward the base where silicone meets harness, where she can smell Minjeong's skin underneath, the salt and musk of her. She kisses back up the other side, unhurried, devoted, and when she reaches the tip again she parts her lips and takes it in, sinking forward until her nose nearly touches Minjeong's pelvis.
The bell chimes softly with each subtle bob of her head. Her eyes never leave Minjeong's face. Minjeong watches with parted lips, one hand resting on top of Ning's head, fingers curled loosely in her hair. She's quiet for a while, just breathing, just watching, letting Ning set the pace. The strap pushes against the base plate with each stroke, transferring subtle pressure against Minjeong's clit, and every so often her eyelids flutter at the contact.
"You look so pretty with a cock in your mouth," Minjeong murmurs, brushing a strand of damp hair away from Ning's face. "Like you were designed for it."
Ning hums around the shaft, grateful, and takes it deeper. Spit is building around her lips, coating the silicone in a slick sheen, dripping from her chin in slow threads that land on the sheets between her hands.
Then Minjeong's grip tightens. Her fingers twist into a fist at the back of Ning's skull, and the gentle resting hand becomes something controlling. She holds Ning's head still and rolls her hips forward, pushing the strap deeper into Ning's mouth. A test. Ning gags slightly, her throat constricting, but she doesn't pull back. She breathes through her nose and relaxes her jaw and takes it.
"Good," Minjeong breathes. She pulls back and thrusts forward again, a little harder. "Stay right there."
She starts fucking Ning's throat. Slow at first, measured strokes that push the strap past Ning's tongue and into the tight resistance of her throat, holding for a beat, then withdrawing. Each thrust draws a thick, wet gurgling sound from Ning's mouth, saliva flooding around the shaft, bubbling at the corners of her lips. Minjeong increases the pace gradually, her hips finding a rhythm, her fist in Ning's hair controlling the angle and the depth.
Ning takes it. Her hands grip the edge of the mattress for balance, her collared throat working around the intrusion, her eyes streaming with reflexive tears that cut fresh tracks through the mess on her face. She gags and drools and keeps going, keeps her eyes locked on Minjeong's, keeps that expression of total, willing surrender even as spit runs freely down her chin and drips onto her chest.
You lean back against the headboard, watching, arms crossed. "This is really romantic."
Minjeong doesn't break her rhythm. She keeps her fist in Ning's hair and her hips rolling forward and glances at you over her shoulder. "It is, actually."
"Nothing says 'welcome to the building' like a strap down the throat."
"Before I can pamper her, I need to degrade her a little first. It's the process. Destruction and reconstruction. You have to tear something down before you can build it into what it's meant to be." She thrusts deep and holds Ning there, nose pressed against her pelvis, throat convulsing.
"Quite poetic."
"I get pretty poetic when there’s a beautiful, slutty girl sucking my big, thick cock." She releases Ning's head and the girl pulls back gasping, a thick bridge of spit stretching from her lips to the tip of the strap before it collapses onto her chin. Minjeong strokes her cheek with the back of her hand.
She grabs Ning's hair again and pulls her back onto the strap. Harder this time, faster, her hips pumping with real force, using Ning's mouth like it exists for this singular purpose. The sounds are filthy. Wet, choking, guttural. Ning's throat bulges with each deep stroke, her body lurching forward. She gags violently and spit erupts around the shaft, coating Minjeong's thighs, running in thick ropes down Ning's neck and between her collarbones.
Minjeong keeps going. She fucks Ning's face with the detached focus of someone working through a task, her jaw set, her breathing steady, only the flush across her chest betraying how much this is doing for her. The base plate grinds against her clit with every thrust and she absorbs each pulse of pleasure without changing expression.
Then she stops. Pulls the strap out completely. Steps back.
Ning stays on her hands and knees, head hanging, chest heaving. She's destroyed. Saliva covers the entire lower half of her face, her neck, her collarbones. It's dripped down onto her tits and stomach, mixing with the dried residue of everything else that's been on her tonight. Her lips are swollen and raw, her mascara has migrated to her temples, and she's trembling from head to toe.
"Open your mouth," Minjeong says. Ning tilts her face up and opens wide. Tongue out, lips stretched, the bell resting in the puddle of drool at the hollow of her throat. Minjeong leans forward and spits. A thick glob that lands directly on Ning's tongue. It sits there, glistening, and Ning holds perfectly still, mouth open, waiting. "Swallow."
Ning closes her mouth and swallows. Her throat bobs once. She opens her mouth again to show it's gone.
"Perfect little drain." Minjeong traces Ning's jawline with her fingertip, tilting her head side to side like she's inspecting merchandise. "Tell me something, kitten. Have you ever been fucked in the ass?"
The question catches her off guard. The empty, obedient look breaks, and a timid, almost girlish shyness surfaces. Her blush deepens and she lowers her gaze to the bed. "Only twice," she admits quietly.
Minjeong's palm connects with Ning's cheek. Not hard enough to snap her head, but sharp enough that the crack rings through the room and a pink handprint blooms on Ning's skin. Ning's eyes go wide, her mouth falling open in a surprised little gasp, the bell jingling from the impact.
"Dirty little slut," Minjeong says evenly. "Acting all shy and innocent with your 'only twice.' You’re disgusting… and you know it. Only twice. Like a normal person's answer to that question isn't zero." She grabs Ning's chin and forces her to make eye contact. "But that's good. It means we can skip the boring part. Your greedy little asshole already knows how to open up for cock."
She releases Ning's chin and looks at you. That look. Commanding, certain, the look that turns her from a five-foot-nothing disaster lesbian into someone you'd follow off a cliff. "Get the lube."
You roll off the bed and cross to the dresser. Second drawer, left side, behind the silicone cleaning spray. You know where she keeps it because you've been here enough times to navigate this room blindfolded. You grab the bottle (water-based, good quality, Minjeong doesn't cheap out on essentials) and turn back toward the bed.
The position has already changed. Minjeong is lying on her back in the center of the mattress, the strap pointing straight up from between her hips. Ning is climbing on top of her, straddling her waist, their bodies pressing together. Ning's hands brace on either side of Minjeong's head. The bell dangles between them, brushing Minjeong's collarbone. Their faces are inches apart.
Minjeong reaches down and positions the head of the strap against Ning's entrance. Not inside. Just there. Resting against her slit, the tip nudging between her swollen lips. Ning's hips rock forward instinctively, trying to sink down, and Minjeong grabs her waist to stop her. "Not yet," she whispers. "Wait for it."
You climb onto the bed behind them, lube in hand. From this angle, Ning's ass is presented to you, round and full and perfect, the curve of it framing the view of Minjeong's strap pressed against her pussy below. Her thighs are spread wide across Minjeong's hips. Everything is on display.
Minjeong peers around Ning's shoulder at you, her expression calm and focused and completely in control of every variable in this room. "Get her ready.”
You pop the cap on the lube and squeeze a generous amount onto your fingers. It pools in your palm, clear and slick, and you start at the curve of Ning's ass, spreading it across both cheeks in slow strokes. Your palms glide over the full roundness of her, kneading gently, working the lube into her skin until it gleams under the lamplight. She shifts on top of Minjeong, her thighs tightening around the other girl's hips, and you feel the muscles in her glutes tense under your hands.
"Cold," Ning murmurs, a tremor running through her.
"I know,” Minjeong says. “Give it a second."
You bring your slicked fingers to the cleft of her ass and slide downward, finding the tight ring of muscle between her cheeks. You circle it slowly with the pad of your index finger, spreading the lubricant around the rim, letting her body register the sensation before you ask anything of it. Ning's breathing changes. Her shoulders hunch forward, her forehead dropping against Minjeong's collarbone, and beneath her you can see Minjeong's hand come up to stroke her hair.
You press the tip of your finger against her entrance. Gentle, patient pressure, not forcing, just resting there, letting the muscle relax on its own terms. It takes a few seconds. You feel the tension gradually release, the ring softening, and your fingertip slips inside to the first knuckle. Ning exhales shakily against Minjeong's chest. "There you go," you say quietly. "Just relax."
You work your finger deeper, inch by inch, feeling the heat of her, the tight grip of her walls around the digit. She's tense but yielding, her body fighting its own instincts and slowly winning. You pull back and push in again, a little deeper, establishing a gentle rhythm. When she's comfortable with one finger, you add a second, scissoring them apart carefully, stretching her open with methodical patience. Ning whimpers into Minjeong's neck, her hips rocking back against your hand in tiny, involuntary movements.
"She likes it," Minjeong observes from below, watching your fingers disappear into Ning's ass. Her free hand traces lazy patterns on Ning's spine. "Look at her pushing back onto your fingers. Greedy even here."
You work her for another minute, making sure she's properly relaxed, properly slicked. Then you withdraw your fingers and squeeze more lube onto your palm, wrapping your fist around your cock and stroking it from base to tip until the entire shaft glistens. You wipe the excess across Ning's entrance one more time for good measure.
You position yourself behind Ning, one hand on her hip, the other guiding your cock to her ass. The head presses against the ring of muscle, warm and slick, and you hold there. "Tell me if it hurts," you say. "Or if you need me to slow down. Any time."
Ning nods against Minjeong's chest, her fingers gripping the sheets on either side of Minjeong's shoulders.
"He likes you a lot," Minjeong tells Ning softly, brushing her lips against Ning's temple. "He's not usually this gentle."
Ning turns her head, catching your eye over her shoulder. "You're very thoughtful."
"Someone here has to be," you reply, glancing at Minjeong.
"Excuse me, I am extremely thoughtful. I gave her a collar."
You push forward. Slowly. The head of your cock meets resistance and you maintain steady pressure, not thrusting, just leaning into it, letting her body decide the pace. The ring stretches around the tip, tight and gripping, and Ning's breath catches. Her fingers dig into the mattress. You pause.
"Keep going," she whispers.
You push deeper. The same patience you used with your fingers, feeding your cock into the impossibly tight heat of her ass while her body opens for you in gradual, reluctant increments. She's burning hot inside, tighter than anything, and the pressure around your shaft is almost overwhelming. You grit your teeth and go slow, watching the place where your body meets hers, watching her stretch around you.
Beneath her, Minjeong reaches down and guides the strap to Ning's pussy. She tilts her hips and pushes upward, and the head of the silicone cock slides between Ning's swollen lips and into her cunt at the same moment that you sink another inch into her ass.
Ning releases a guttural, fractured cry that wavers between a sob and a moan, her muscles locking as both holes fill simultaneously. Her mouth opens against Minjeong's collarbone and she just breathes, fast and shallow, processing the fullness.
"Oh my god," she chokes out. "Oh my god, I can feel both of you. I can feel everything."
"Breathe," Minjeong tells her, cupping the back of her head. "Just breathe, kitten."
You hold still, buried halfway in Ning's ass, giving her time. Minjeong holds still beneath her, the strap seated partway in her pussy. The three of you exist in a suspended moment of absolute fullness, nobody moving, just breathing together, letting Ning's body adjust to being stretched in two places at once.
Then Ning rolls her hips. Barely perceptible, just a tiny rocking motion, testing, and the sensation ripples through all three of you. You feel the shift in pressure as the strap moves inside her pussy, separated from your cock by only a thin wall of tissue, and the indirect contact through her body sends a jolt through your shaft that makes your jaw clench.
"More," Ning whispers. You push the rest of the way in. Slow, steady, until your hips press flush against her ass. At the same time, Minjeong rocks upward, seating the strap fully in Ning's cunt. Ning is pinned between the two of you, every inch of both holes filled, her small body stretched and stuffed and sandwiched between your chest and Minjeong's. "Fuck," Ning breathes. "Fuck, that's so much. It's so much."
"Too much?" you ask.
"No. Don't stop. Don't you dare stop."
You start to move. Slow, careful, pulling back a few inches and pressing forward again. Minjeong finds a counter-rhythm beneath you both, thrusting upward as you withdraw, so that Ning is never empty, always full of one of you, the two cocks alternating inside her in a steady, rocking cadence. The thin membrane separating your shaft from the strap means you can feel every stroke Minjeong makes, a firm pressure sliding against you through Ning's body, and the sensation is dizzying.
Ning is lost. Her face is buried in Minjeong's neck, her hips moving in helpless, undulating waves between the two of you, taking each thrust from behind and each upstroke from below. The bell on her collar chimes with every rock of her body. Her moans are continuous now, not sharp peaks but a sustained, low, trembling sound that vibrates in her chest.
"Can you feel him in your ass while I'm in your pussy?" Minjeong murmurs against Ning's ear, her hips rolling in smooth, controlled strokes. "Can you feel both of us moving inside you at the same time? Filling you up from both sides?"
"Yes," Ning gasps. "I feel everything. I feel you rubbing against each other through me. It's so full, I've never been this full, I can't think."
"You don't need to think. I told you that already. Thinking is not what you're here for." Minjeong thrusts upward, sharp, and Ning cries out. "You're here to take two cocks at once like the greedy little hole you are and say thank you when we're done."
You increase your pace slightly, your strokes lengthening, pulling back further before pushing in. Ning's ass grips you with every movement, the lube making the slide smooth but the tightness still staggering, her body clenching and releasing around your shaft in rhythmic pulses that sync with Minjeong's thrusts below. You grip Ning's hips, thumbs pressing into the dimples at the base of her spine, and settle into a steady, driving tempo.
"Look at her taking it," Minjeong says, and there's genuine awe underneath the domination. She cranes her neck to look past Ning's shoulder at you, watching your cock disappear into Ning's ass on every stroke. "Both holes stuffed and she's still begging for more. I knew it. I knew the second I saw her that she was built for this."
Ning whimpers in response, her nails scratching at the sheets beside Minjeong's head. Her back arches, pressing her chest harder against Minjeong's, their nipples sliding together with each thrust. The position keeps her pinned, unable to control anything, unable to set the pace, simply trapped between two bodies that are using her in tandem. And she loves it. Every line of her body broadcasts it, the way she pushes back onto you, the way she grinds down onto Minjeong, the way her moans have taken on a pitch that borders on delirium.
You lean forward, changing the angle, and Ning screams. Your cock hits deeper, pressing against spots that make her entire body jolt, and at the same time Minjeong adjusts beneath her, angling the strap upward, finding her g-spot through her front wall. Ning is caught between the two points of pressure, her body jerking and spasming.
"That's our good kitten," Minjeong coos, holding Ning's trembling body against hers, one hand in her hair, the other gripping her ass, pulling her cheeks apart so you can thrust deeper. "Taking both her owners so well. So stretched. So full. So perfectly, obscenely stuffed. Now mark her," she says, looking past Ning's shoulder at you. "I want prints on her."
You bring your palm down on Ning's right cheek. The crack splits the air and Ning yelps, her whole body clenching, her ass tightening around your cock so hard your vision blurs for a second. A pink handprint blooms on her skin, vivid against the pale flesh.
"Again," Minjeong orders. "Leave her tight little ass completely red. I want it glowing."
You smack her left cheek. Then the right again. Then the left. Each impact sends a shockwave through Ning's body that you feel in the grip of her ass around your shaft, each clench followed by a release that lets you thrust deeper. Her skin flushes from pink to angry red, overlapping handprints layering on top of each other until both cheeks are burning, swollen, marked in a way that's going to last for days.
Ning screams into Minjeong's neck with every slap, her body jolting forward, then rocking back onto your cock like she's chasing the sting. "Tell me what you are," Minjeong demands. She grabs a fistful of Ning's hair and pulls her head up, forcing her face out of hiding. "Loud. So I can hear it."
"I'm a whore," Ning shouts. Her face is streaked with fresh tears, mascara long gone, nothing left but raw skin and swollen lips and wild, desperate eyes. "I'm a dirty little whore."
"The neighbors are going to hear you screaming that."
"I don't care." Ning's hips grind back against you, then forward onto Minjeong, her body working between the two cocks with frantic, shameless need. "I don't care if they hear. I want everyone to know. I want the whole building to know I'm a whore. That Minjeong is my owner. That I belong to her."
Minjeong's hand slides from Ning's hair to her throat. Not squeezing, not choking. Just holding. Her fingers wrap around the column of Ning's neck, feeling the collar beneath her palm, the bell pressing into the webbing between her thumb and index finger. She tilts Ning's face down until their eyes meet.
"Look at me," Minjeong says. Quiet now, almost tender. "Don't close your eyes. Don't look away. I want you to cum while you're looking at me. I want to see it happen."
Ning's gaze locks onto Minjeong's. Inches apart, sharing breath, Minjeong's hand steady on her throat. The bell is trapped between Minjeong's fingers and Ning's skin, silent for the first time.
You fuck her harder. Deep, punishing strokes into her ass, each one landing with a wet smack against her reddened cheeks, your fingers digging into her bruised hips. Minjeong thrusts upward in counterpoint, the strap filling Ning's pussy on every alternating beat, the two of you working her body in a relentless, coordinated rhythm that leaves her nowhere to go, nothing to do except take it and feel it and fall apart.
Ning's lips start trembling. Her breathing fractures into staccato bursts, each exhale a whimper, each inhale a gasp. Her thighs shake uncontrollably against Minjeong's hips. Her fingers claw at the sheets, the mattress, Minjeong's shoulders, anything she can reach. The tension builds visibly in her body, every muscle drawing taut, her stomach clenching, her jaw tightening, her eyes going glassy and unfocused even as she fights to keep them locked on Minjeong's face.
"That's it," Minjeong whispers, her thumb stroking the side of Ning's throat. "Right there. Let go for me. Let me see it." It hits her from both directions at once. You feel it in her ass first, a clamping, rhythmic contraction that grips your cock so tight you have to grit your teeth, her muscles spasming in rapid pulses. Then Minjeong gasps beneath her as Ning's pussy does the same thing around the strap, both holes clenching simultaneously in waves that roll through her body like seismic aftershocks.
Ning's mouth opens. No sound comes out for a full two seconds. Her back arches, rigid, suspended between the two of you, every tendon in her neck standing out beneath Minjeong's hand. Then the scream comes. Low at first, building, ragged and destroyed and raw, her eyes never leaving Minjeong's face even as her body convulses between them. Tears spill freely down her cheeks. Her hips jerk and stutter in helpless, broken movements. Fluid gushes from around the strap, soaking Minjeong's thighs and the sheets beneath them.
The orgasm goes on and on. Each time you think it's subsiding, another wave hits her, another contraction grips you, another cry tears from her throat. Minjeong holds her gaze through all of it, steady and anchoring, her hand warm and firm on Ning's throat, grounding her through the most intense thing her body has ever experienced.
When it finally ends, Ning collapses. Completely, boneless, every ounce of energy drained, her full weight dropping onto Minjeong's chest. Her cheek presses against Minjeong's collarbone. Her eyes close. Her breathing is ragged, hitching, edging toward sobs. Minjeong wraps both arms around her. Pulls her close. One hand cradles the back of her head, fingers threading gently through her tangled, sweat-damp hair. The other rests flat between her shoulder blades, palm warm against her spine. She presses her lips to Ning's temple and holds them there.
"Good girl," she murmurs into Ning's hair. "Such a good girl. My perfect little kitten. You did so well. I'm so proud of you."
Ning makes a small, broken sound against Minjeong's chest. Her fingers curl weakly into the sheets beside Minjeong's ribs, holding on. You pull out of Ning slowly, carefully, and her body shudders once at the withdrawal. Her reddened ass bears overlapping handprints in various shades of crimson, the skin hot to the touch. You sit back and exhale.
"I'm close," you tell Minjeong.
She looks at you over Ning's shoulder. "Stand up."
You climb off the bed, your feet finding the floor, and stand at the edge of the mattress. Minjeong gently lifts Ning off her chest, easing her upward, pressing kisses to her forehead, her cheek, the tip of her nose.
"One more thing, kitten." She strokes Ning's face. "Can you kneel for me? On the floor?"
Ning blinks, still dazed, still trembling in the afterglow. She nods faintly. Minjeong helps her to the edge of the bed and Ning slides off, her knees finding the carpet, settling into that familiar position. On the floor, between your legs, looking up at you and Minjeong with glazed, wrecked, adoring eyes. The collar gleams at her throat. Minjeong slips off the bed and kneels beside her, one arm draped around Ning's shoulders, both of them looking up at you from the floor.
"Now," Minjeong says, settling beside Ning on her knees, one arm still draped protectively across her shoulders, "my kitten gets her reward." She looks up at you, then at Ning, then at your cock standing hard and slick inches from both their faces. "Warm milk. All over that pretty face and tongue." She runs her fingertip along Ning's jaw, turning her head to face your shaft. "You must be starving, baby. You've worked so hard tonight. Been such a good little pet. So you're going to suck that cock until he gives you every drop. And I'm going to help."
Minjeong leans forward first. Her lips close around the head of your cock, warm and soft, her tongue swirling once before she pulls back and guides Ning in. Ning's mouth replaces hers, those swollen, raw lips stretching around your shaft, taking you halfway in a single smooth stroke. She bobs twice, sloppy and eager, spit already building, and then pulls back as Minjeong moves in again.
They find a rhythm. Ning takes you deep while Minjeong's tongue works the base, licking the underside of your shaft where Ning's lips can't reach. Then they switch. Minjeong sucks the head while Ning drops lower, pressing her mouth against your balls, her tongue dragging across the sensitive skin, taking one into her mouth and sucking gently while Minjeong bobs above her.
Then their mouths meet at the tip. Ning's tongue presses flat against one side of the head, Minjeong's against the other, and they lick upward in unison, their tongues meeting at the slit, sliding against each other with your cock trapped between them. The contact dissolves into a kiss. Minjeong's hand cups the back of Ning's head and they kiss around the head of your cock, tongues tangling together, lips brushing the sensitive ridge, spit and precum smearing between their mouths in a connected, glistening mess. The bell on Ning's collar chimes softly as she tilts her head to deepen the angle.
"You two are perfect together," you manage.
Minjeong breaks the kiss and looks up at you, a strand of spit connecting her lip to Ning's. She smiles. Then she turns to Ning and presses one last, lingering kiss against her mouth. Slow, tender, her thumb stroking Ning's cum-stained cheek. "I want the best seat in the house for this," she murmurs against Ning's lips.
She stands. Her bare feet pad around behind you and you feel her chest press against your back, her chin hooking over your shoulder, her arms winding around your torso from behind. One hand slides down your stomach and wraps around your cock, slick from both their mouths, her grip firm, practiced and exactly right.
Below you, Ning kneels alone. She tilts her face up, mouth open, the collar gleaming, and extends her tongue to press against your frenulum. Just the tip of her tongue, light, flickering, the most sensitive spot on your entire body being teased with delicate, maddening precision while Minjeong's fist works the shaft from behind.
"Look at her," Minjeong whispers against your ear, her breath hot on your neck. "Look at that face. That gorgeous, ruined, perfect face. Mascara destroyed. Lips swollen. And she's kneeling there begging for more. She deserves to be painted. She deserves every single drop you've got."
Her hand strokes you steadily, twisting slightly at the top, her thumb swiping over the head on each upstroke before Ning's tongue catches the underside again. Minjeong's other hand rests on your hip, her nails pressing lightly into your skin.
"Imagine what she's going to look like," Minjeong continues, her lips brushing the shell of your ear. "Thick ropes of cum across those cheekbones. Dripping off her chin. Pooling on that pretty tongue. Sliding down to the collar. My collared little cum dump covered in you while I watch."
Ning's tongue flutters against the frenulum and she pulls back just enough to speak, her lips still brushing the head of your cock. "Please. I want it. I've been good, I've been so good tonight, please give it to me. I want to taste it. I want to feel it land on me."
"Hear that?" Minjeong's hand quickens. Her strokes tighten, pumping your shaft with urgent, focused precision, her wrist snapping on the downstroke. "Your little kitten is begging. She's starving for it. Starving for your cum on her pretty face."
Ning opens wider, her tongue extended as far as it'll go, flat and waiting. "Please, please, please. Cum on me. Cover me. I'll swallow everything, I'll lick it all up, please, I need it."
"Give it to her," Minjeong breathes. "Cum all over her fucking face. Do it. Now."
"I'm close," you grit out, your abs clenching, your thighs locking.
Ning stays perfectly still, kneeling, tongue out, eyes open, looking up at you with those glassy, adoring, wrecked eyes. Minjeong aims your cock directly at her face from behind your hip, angling the head downward, her grip controlling exactly where every drop is going to land.
You break. The first rope fires thick and hot across Ning's cheek, a white streak from the corner of her mouth to her temple. Ning flinches at the impact and then holds still, mouth open wider, and the second shot lands directly on her tongue, heavy and warm, pooling in the center. Minjeong doesn't stop stroking. Her fist milks your shaft in relentless, squeezing pumps, coaxing everything out of you, and the third rope catches Ning's forehead, dripping down the bridge of her nose. The fourth hits her chin and slides down to the collar, catching in the leather, dripping off the bell. The fifth and sixth are weaker, oozing from the tip, and Minjeong aims them across Ning's lips, painting them white, smearing the head of your cock across her mouth to spread the last traces.
"Oh fuck," Minjeong exhales against your shoulder, watching her handiwork. "Look at that. Look at her. She's covered. She's absolutely covered."
Ning kneels there, face glazed, tongue still extended with a thick pool of cum sitting in the center. It streaks across her features like abstract art, white against flushed skin, dripping slowly down the contours of her face, following the paths of the dried tears and mascara tracks. The collar glistens with it. A drop hangs from the bell, catching the light before it falls.
Minjeong pushes your cock forward, guiding the sensitive, spent head between Ning's lips. "Clean him up, kitten."
Ning closes her mouth around the tip and sucks gently. You shudder, every nerve ending screaming with oversensitivity, your hands gripping Minjeong's arm around your waist for stability. Ning's tongue swirls around the head, dipping into the slit, coaxing the last remnants of cum from you with patient, thorough attention. She sucks and licks and swallows, her throat bobbing, until there's nothing left and your cock is clean and twitching in her mouth.
She releases you with a soft, wet sound and looks up, waiting. Cum still covers most of her face, drying at the edges, fresh and wet in the center. Minjeong steps out from behind you and kneels in front of Ning. She takes Ning's face in both hands, cupping her jaw, tilting her head left, then right, examining her. Her thumbs rest on Ning's cheekbones, framing the mess, and a slow, reverent smile spreads across her face. "Perfect," she whispers. "You're absolutely perfect."
She leans in and presses her tongue flat against Ning's forehead. The first lick drags through the streak of cum there, collecting it. She pulls back, swallows, and goes in again. Across Ning's temple, where the first rope landed, her tongue tracing the line from hairline to cheekbone, gathering every trace. Ning's eyes close. A soft, contented sigh escapes her as Minjeong's tongue moves down to her cheek, lapping at the thick smear there with long, patient strokes, cleaning the skin beneath to a flushed, spit-shined pink.
Minjeong works methodically. She licks across the bridge of Ning's nose, down the other cheek, along her jawline where a trickle has dried. Her tongue finds the corner of Ning's mouth and traces the crease where cum has settled into her smile lines. She licks Ning's chin clean, her tongue pressing into the soft dip beneath her lower lip, following the trail down to the collar where the last drops cling to leather and metal. She licks the collar itself, her tongue running along the strap, over the surface of the bell, tasting salt, cum and Ning's skin all at once.
Ning stays still through all of it, eyes closed, face tilted up, surrendering to the sensation of being cleaned by the woman who owns her. Small tremors run through her body. Her hands rest limp in her lap. When Minjeong finishes, Ning's face is clean. Flushed and raw and still marked with the ghosts of mascara, but clean.
Minjeong tilts Ning's cleaned face toward hers and kisses her. Her mouth opens, and you watch the moment Ning realizes what's happening. Minjeong is pushing the collected cum from her own tongue into Ning's mouth, feeding it to her in a slow transfer. Ning makes a small, surprised sound and then melts into it, her hand finding Minjeong's and their fingers lacing together on Ning's bare thigh. They stay like that for a long moment, mouths connected, sharing the taste between them, Ning swallowing in small pulses while Minjeong's thumb strokes circles against the back of her hand.
When they finally break apart, Ning licks her lips and Minjeong presses her forehead against hers, both of them breathing, both of them quiet. You sit on the edge of the bed. The room is wrecked. The sheets are wrecked. Everyone in the room is wrecked.
"That," you say to the ceiling, "was a very intense night."
"Understatement," Minjeong murmurs, still forehead-to-forehead with Ning.
Ning lets out a shaky exhale that's half laugh, half disbelief. "Everything happened so fast. Like, two hours ago I was looking for my keys."
"And now look at you."
"Please don't make me look at me right now." Ning shifts on her knees, winces, and glances toward the hallway. "Can we take a bath? I need... water. Hot water. On my body. Immediately."
"Yeah," you agree.
"Absolutely," Minjeong says, finally pulling back from Ning's face. She stands, offering Ning both hands, and Ning takes them.
Getting up is a process. Her legs wobble on the first attempt, her knees buckling, and Minjeong catches her around the waist with a steadiness that suggests she's done post-sex stabilization before (she has, for you, twice). Ning finds her footing on the second try, standing on shaking legs, one hand gripping Minjeong's shoulder.
Minjeong looks back at the bed. The sheets are destroyed. Soaked through in multiple overlapping patches of various fluids, twisted into ropes at the corners where someone (everyone) was gripping them, the fitted sheet pulled halfway off the mattress. A pillow has migrated to the floor. The handcuffs dangle from the headboard slat, still open. The smeared remnants of red lipstick have transferred onto the fabric in abstract streaks. The lube bottle is on its side, cap off, a small puddle forming on the nightstand.
"I'm going to have to replace literally everything. The sheets, the mattress protector, possibly the mattress. This looks like a crime scene."
"A fun crime scene," you offer.
Ning looks down at herself and goes very still. Her stomach is sticky with dried residue (sweat, spit, squirt, cum, all mixed together in various combinations). The ghost of the lipstick letters still clings to her skin in faded red traces. Her knees are raw and red from the carpet, the skin irritated and tender. She turns slightly and cranes her neck to look at her own ass, and her eyes go wide. "Oh my god."
It's crimson. Both cheeks overlapping with handprints in varying shades of red, some of them clearly defined (fingers, palm, thumb) and others just general swelling from repeated impact.
"Oh my god," Ning repeats, touching her own cheek gingerly and flinching. "That's so red."
Minjeong's dominance evaporates instantly, she rushes over and examines the marks with careful fingers, barely touching, her brow furrowed. "Are you okay? I have a really good moisturizing cream, it's the one with shea butter and aloe, I can put it on your knees and your... everything after the bath. It helps with inflammation."
"I'm fine." Ning gives her a lopsided smile. "Just a little sore. Everywhere. In places I didn't know could be sore."
Minjeong takes her hand and leads her down the hallway to the bathroom, walking slowly, matching Ning's careful pace. You follow. The bathroom is small but clean (the cleanest room in the apartment at this point, by default). Ning catches her reflection in the mirror above the sink and stops dead. She stares at herself.
The mascara is gone. Not removed. Migrated. It's spread across her temples, under her eyes, down her cheeks in dried tracks that map every tear she shed tonight. Her foundation is patchy and streaked. Her lipstick dissolved hours ago. Her hair is a tangled, matted disaster. The collar still sits around her throat. Faint red marks circle both wrists from the handcuffs. Her entire body from the neck down glistens with a cocktail of everything the three of you produced tonight. "Holy shit," Ning whispers at her own reflection. "You two really used me."
Minjeong, standing behind Ning, locks eyes with you in the mirror. She's trying not to freak out. Trying so hard. Her lips are pressed together, her nostrils are flared, and her hand reaches out and grabs your bicep in a death grip, her nails digging in. She squeezes your arm so hard you almost yelp, and behind Ning's back she's suppressing a grin so enormous it looks physically painful to contain.
You give her a subtle nod. She releases your arm (there will be half-moon nail marks there tomorrow) and composes herself. Minjeong turns the shower on. She adjusts the handle, testing the temperature with her wrist, nudging it warmer until steam starts curling against the glass, then helps Ning step in first. Ning moves under the stream and the hot water hits her shoulders and she lets out a groan of relief that borders on spiritual. The collar's bell catches the water and glints.
"Should I take this off?" Ning asks, touching it.
"Only if you want to."
Ning considers. "I'll keep it on."
Minjeong's face does the thing again (the barely suppressed joy, the disbelief) and she steps in behind Ning, pressing close under the spray. You get in last, and the three of you fit in the shower the way three adults fit in a standard shower stall, which is to say barely, with a lot of rotating and someone always catching an elbow and everyone taking turns directly under the water.
Minjeong washes Ning. Carefully. She squeezes eucalyptus wash onto a soft cloth and runs it over Ning's shoulders in slow, gentle strokes, working down her arms, across her chest, rinsing each section under the stream before moving to the next. She handles the raw spots (knees, wrists, the reddened cheeks of her ass) with extra tenderness, barely any pressure, just warm water and soft fabric. When she gets to Ning's hair, she reaches for a specific bottle on the shelf. You recognize it immediately.
"Is that the expensive shampoo?"
Minjeong doesn't look at you. "Maybe."
"The one you specifically told me I'm never allowed to use?"
"It's for her hair type."
"My hair has a type too, Minjeong."
"Your hair has the type of 'use the two-in-one like everyone else.'" She squeezes a generous amount into her palm and begins working it through Ning's hair, massaging her scalp with her fingertips. Ning practically purrs under the attention, her eyes closed, her body leaning back into Minjeong's hands, the hot water rinsing the suds down her back in slow cascades.
After the shower, Minjeong wraps Ning in the fluffiest bathrobe in the apartment. She sits Ning on the closed toilet lid and dries her hair with a blow dryer, one hand running through the strands while the other directs the warm air, sectioning and smoothing with the attention of a salon professional.
You lean against the doorframe, towel around your waist, watching this. "I've never received this level of service."
"And you never will. Be grateful I'm still willing to give you water."
"Noted."
Once Ning's hair is dry and soft and falling in clean waves around her face, you and Minjeong put on some clothes, then she leads Ning to the kitchen.
"Tea," she announces, filling the kettle. "After all that, we need tea."
"You're so Korean," you say.
"And you're so annoying. What do you want?"
"Mint."
Minjeong looks at Ning, who has settled onto a kitchen stool with the careful movements of someone whose entire lower body is filing complaints. "Chamomile, please."
With the calm precision of habit, Minjeong fixes three cups. She opens a cabinet and pulls out a tin of butter cookies, the classic round one straight out of a grandmother’s kitchen, then sets it down on the counter.
The three of you drink tea and eat cookies in the kitchen of apartment 69 at (you check the microwave clock) eleven forty-seven on a weeknight. Ning is in a fluffy bathrobe with a collar and bell around her neck. Minjeong is in an old t-shirt and fresh shorts. You're in your jeans and nothing else.
Minjeong wraps both hands around her mug. Stares into the tea. Takes a breath. "So, Ning."
"So, Minjeong."
"Would you... do you want to go on a date with me? Tomorrow?" She says it quickly, her eyes fixed on the surface of her chamomile. "Like, dinner. Or coffee. Or whatever you want. Something normal. Where we wear clothes and sit across from each other and talk."
Ning smiles. "I'd really like that."
Minjeong exhales. You watch the tension drain from her shoulders in real time, weeks of anxiety dissolving in a single sentence.
Ning shakes her head slowly, laughing at herself.
"I still can't believe I did all that. With two people I barely knew three hours ago. I'm... I mean, I was going to watch Gossip Girl. I was going to make instant ramen and watch Gossip Girl and go to sleep at midnight like a normal person. And instead I got..." She gestures at everything: the collar, the bathrobe, the cookie in her hand, the entire trajectory of the evening.
"Any regrets?" Minjeong asks.
"Zero. Absolutely zero." Ning dunks her cookie in her tea and takes a bite. "I'm just realizing I might be a much more adventurous person than I thought."
Minjeong nibbles the edge of her own cookie. "I hope it wasn't too much. For a first time. I know I can be... a lot. I was so excited and nervous simultaneously and when I get like that I tend to just go and go and go and I should have checked in more and..."
"Minjeong."
"Yeah?"
"It was too much. But in the best way. Like, you took sex and turned it into something I didn't know existed. I didn't know it could feel like that. I didn't know I could feel like that."
Minjeong stares at her cookie with an expression of concentrated joy that she's trying very hard to play cool about. Ning takes another sip of chamomile, and then, very quietly, looking at the counter rather than at either of you, says, "Also, I think I want to try having two... you know. Both of you. In the same... in one..." She trails off. Covers her face with both hands. The bell jingles. "Oh my god, I can't believe I'm saying this out loud. Both of you at the same time. In my pussy. Together." She peeks through her fingers. "I think I might die if that actually happened, but I want to try."
Minjeong is gripping her mug so hard her knuckles are white. "We can absolutely make that happen. Yeah."
"But more than anything," Ning continues, setting her tea down. She reaches across the counter and takes Minjeong's hand, threading their fingers together slowly. "I want to get to know you better." She rubs her thumb across Minjeong's knuckles. "When I first moved in, you were this mystery to me. The girl from 69 who I'd catch glimpses of in the hallway and then she'd just... vanish. I kept thinking, is she shy? Does she hate me? Is she a ghost? I genuinely considered the ghost option for a minute."
Minjeong opens her mouth to respond and nothing comes out.
"I'd listen for your door," Ning admits. "I'd hear it open and I'd rush to my peephole hoping to catch you leaving so I could time my exit and accidentally run into you. And every single time, by the time I got my shoes on, you were gone."
"I move fast when I'm panicking," Minjeong says quietly.
"I figured that out tonight." Ning squeezes her hand. "I started thinking maybe I'd never get to talk to you. That you'd just be this beautiful, weird, untouchable person two doors down who I'd think about way more than was reasonable. And now I'm sitting in your kitchen wearing your bathrobe and your collar and I know what sound you make when you cum, but I don't know your favorite movie. Or what makes you laugh. Or what you eat for breakfast. And I want all of that. Every boring, normal detail.”
They look at each other across the kitchen counter, and the bell chimes once as Ning leans in, and they kiss. Gentle, slow, tasting like chamomile and butter cookies.
You finish your mint tea. Set the mug in the sink. Pick up the last cookie from the tin and take a bite. "I'm going to head out," you say. "You two have a lot to talk about."
Minjeong breaks the kiss and stands from her stool. She walks over to you and takes your hand in both of hers, squeezing. "Thank you," she says. "For real. This wouldn't have happened without you. I'd still be hiding behind that plant if you hadn't dragged me into my own life."
"You absolutely would be."
"I know. That's why I'm thanking you."
Ning hops off her stool (winces slightly upon landing), walks over, and presses a kiss to your cheek. Her lips are warm from the tea. "That was really sweet of you. Setting all this up. Being so considerate through everything. You're a good person."
"I'm an okay person who was heavily incentivized."
Ning laughs. "Still."
You pull on your shirt, then the shoes, find your jacket on the couch (right where you left it approximately a lifetime ago), and head for the door. You stop with your hand on the knob and look back at them. Minjeong has her arm around Ning's waist, and Ning is leaning into her, and they look like something that was always supposed to happen and just needed a minor logistical push.
"Just remember to invite me back," you say. "There's apparently a lot of unfinished business."
Minjeong and Ning exchange a knowing glance. "Oh, we're definitely calling you," Minjeong says. "There's still a lot to be done. I have an entire drawer we didn't even open tonight. And I'm going to need your... assistance."
"The drawer you won't tell me about?"
"That drawer stays classified until the appropriate time."
Ning waves from under Minjeong's arm. "Come back soon."
"I will." You open the door and step into the hallway. The sad little fern sits in its pot by the wall, oblivious to its role in the evening's origin story. "Good luck, you two. Goodnight."
You close the door behind you and stand in the hallway for a second, listening. Through the door, muffled, you hear Ning say something and Minjeong laugh. It’s unfiltered. Effortless. So different from the composed, dry version she shows the world.
You press the elevator button, take a bite of the stolen cookie, and head home.
A Commision Work for My Friend @sinbaddict Hope Yall, Enjoy The Story!
The bass throbbed through the floor like a second heartbeat.
Kim Lip stepped past the velvet rope, the bouncer's eyes tracking her figure—a black silk dress so short it barely skimmed her upper thighs, the fabric clinging to every curve like it owed her money. The dress had a plunging neckline that showed off the smooth pale skin of her chest, the inner swells of her tits pressed together, begging to be noticed. Her heels were high, strappy things that made her legs look endless. She'd worn this dress for a reason. She'd been thinking about tonight for weeks.
The Grand Icarus Lounge sprawled before her, all dark corners and neon glow, bodies packed tight on the dance floor, the air thick with perfume and sweat and something electric. A DJ booth hovered above the crowd, lights strobing in time with the music, purple and blue and hot pink throwing shadows across faces. Private tables ringed the edges, roped off with more velvet, and beyond those—she'd heard—there were rooms. Private lounges. The kind you needed an invitation to enter.
This is it.
Her pulse was already racing. Not from nerves. From anticipation. Kim Lip had spent years on stage, years being looked at but never touched, years of choreography that suggested sex without ever delivering it. She was done with suggestion. Tonight she wanted delivery. Multiple deliveries. She'd fantasized about it for so long—hands everywhere, mouths everywhere, cocks everywhere—that the fantasy had become a kind of ache, a low-grade fever she couldn't shake.
She moved toward the bar, hips swaying in that way she'd perfected, the way that made men's heads turn. A few did. She felt their gazes like heat lamps.
"What can I get you?"
The bartender was young, tattooed, cute. But not what she needed.
"Something strong," she said, leaning forward just enough. "Surprise me."
She felt eyes on her back. On her legs. On the curve of her ass beneath the silk. The dress was so short that if she bent over even slightly, her panties would show—a scrap of black lace she'd chosen specifically because they could be pulled aside without taking them off. Practical. She'd thought about this.
The bartender slid a glass toward her. Something amber. She took a sip, let it burn down her throat, and turned to survey the room.
That's when she saw them.
A group of men near the back, clustered around one of the private lounges. They weren't dancing. They were watching. And the one in the center—tall, broad-shouldered, dark hair swept back, wearing a fitted black shirt that stretched across his chest—was watching her.
Kevin.
She didn't know his name yet. But she would.
The music shifted, something slower and filthier, and Kim Lip downed the rest of her drink. The heat spread through her chest. Another man appeared at her elbow—shorter, stocky, with a nice smile.
"Can I buy you another one?"
She let him. Then another from someone else. The drinks kept coming, different men, different faces, all of them hungry, all of them looking at her like she was something to eat. Her head started to swim, not from alcohol but from the attention, from the weight of their desire pressing against her from all sides. Her skin felt hot. Her dress felt too tight. Between her thighs, beneath the lace, she was starting to feel it—that slick, warm pulse.
A hand brushed her lower back.
She didn't turn, didn't flinch. Another hand, on her hip. Fingertips tracing the curve of her ass. She let herself be touched. This was what she'd come for. The hands multiplied—a palm on her bare shoulder, fingers grazing her thigh, knuckles brushing against her side—and she closed her eyes for a second, breathing it in.
More.
The tall one appeared in front of her.
Up close, he was even bigger. Broad shoulders that blocked out the strobe lights, arms thick with muscle, jaw sharp enough to cut glass. He smelled like expensive cologne and something darker underneath. His eyes were very dark, and they didn't look away from hers.
"You're Kim Lip," he said. Not a question.
She tilted her chin up. "And you are?"
"Kevin." His hand found her waist, large and warm, his fingers pressing into the silk of her dress. "I've been watching you. You've been letting everyone touch you."
"Maybe I like being touched."
His mouth curved. "I think you like more than that."
Around them, the other men had gone quiet, watching the exchange. Kevin's thumb moved against her hip, a slow circle through the fabric. Kim Lip's breathing changed—she didn't mean it to, but it did, catching in her throat.
"There's a private lounge," Kevin said, leaning closer, his mouth near her ear. "Mine. My friends are there. Twelve of them. They've been waiting for someone worth their time." His tongue brushed her earlobe. "I think you're worth their time."
Twelve.
The number hit her like a wave of heat. She'd imagined multiple. She'd imagined hands. But twelve men, all at once—
Her cunt clenched. She could feel the slickness spreading, soaking into the lace of her panties, a damp spot she was sure he could feel if he slid his hand just a little lower.
"Let us satisfy you," Kevin murmured against her ear, and the words weren't a request. They were a promise.
Kim Lip turned her head, found his mouth, and kissed him.
It wasn't a gentle kiss. She bit his lower lip, sucked it into her mouth, and his hand tightened on her waist, fingers digging into flesh. She felt other hands on her again—on her ass, her thighs, someone palming her tits through the silk—and she moaned into Kevin's mouth, a sound she didn't recognize, high and desperate.
"Fuck," someone said. "She's into it."
Kevin pulled back, his lips wet, his eyes darker than before. "Come with me."
He didn't wait for an answer. His hand slid down her waist, over her hip, and he was guiding her through the crowd, past the velvet ropes, the other men closing in around them. She felt like she was being swallowed, swallowed by bodies and heat and the thud of the bass, and somewhere in the back of her mind she knew she should be scared, she should be cautious, but all she could feel was the wetness between her legs and the ache in her cunt and the desperate throb of yes yes yes.
The private lounge was behind a curtain. Heavy black fabric that Kevin pushed aside, and then she was inside.
The room was bigger than she'd expected. Low couches ringed the walls, all dark leather, all big enough to hold multiple bodies. Soft lighting, amber and red, made everyone look like they were already sweaty, already flushed. And there were men. So many men. Standing, sitting, some with drinks in their hands, all of them turning to look at her.
Twelve.
Kevin's hand was still on her hip. He pulled her forward, into the center of the room, and the curtain fell shut behind them with a soft shfffft.
"Gentlemen," Kevin said, his voice carrying through the low thrum of the music bleeding in from outside. "This is none other than Kim Lip." He paused, letting them look at her. Letting them take in the dress, the heels, the parted lips, the flush on her chest. "And I say… how about we make her fucking cum?"
The room erupted. Not with noise—with movement. With bodies shifting forward, with hands reaching out, with the low hungry sound of a dozen men murmuring their approval. Kim Lip's heart slammed against her ribs. Her cunt was drenched now, absolutely soaked, the lace of her panties ruined. She could smell herself—musky and sweet—and she knew they could too.
Kevin turned her to face him. "You want this?"
It was the only time he'd ask.
"Yes," she said. "I want this. I want all of it."
His grin was sharp. "Good girl."
Then his hands were on her dress, and everything started.
The fabric tore. She heard the rrrrip of silk, felt cool air hit her skin, and then her dress was gone—just shredded scraps falling to the floor around her heels. She stood there in her black lace bra and the soaked panties, her skin goosebumped and flushed, her chest heaving. Someone whistled. Someone else said, "Holy fuck."
Kevin's eyes dropped to her tits—the bra was sheer, the nipples dark pink and hard, visible through the lace. He reached out, hooked a finger under the center clasp.
"This too."
Snap. The bra fell away.
Her tits bounced free, pale and round, nipples tight from the cool air and the arousal burning through her. They were full—not huge, but heavy enough to jiggle with every movement, the kind of tits that looked perfect in a cupped palm. Kevin didn't cup them. Someone else did. Hands from behind, rough and warm, palms pressing against her nipples, fingers squeezing the soft flesh. She gasped.
"There she goes," the man behind her said, his mouth against her shoulder. "You like that, don't you? You like having your tits grabbed?"
"Y-yes—"
Another hand smacked her ass. Hard. The sound was loud in the room, a sharp SMACK that made her lurch forward. Kevin caught her. His hand went between her legs, pressing against the lace, and he groaned.
"She's fucking soaked. Feel this."
Fingers replaced his—not just one set, but several, all of them pressing against her cunt through the wet fabric, rubbing, probing. Kim Lip's knees buckled. She grabbed onto Kevin's shoulders to stay upright, her mouth open, sounds falling out of her that she couldn't control.
Splortch. The wet noise of her pussy squishing against the soaked lace as someone pressed harder.
"Get these off her," Kevin said.
The panties didn't last. Someone yanked them down her thighs, and she felt the elastic snap, and then she was bare—completely fucking bare, her cunt exposed to the room, the lips puffy and swollen and slick with her juices. Cool air hit her folds and she whimpered.
"Look at that," one of the men breathed, kneeling in front of her. "Look at that pretty little cunt."
He was close enough that she could feel his breath on her inner thigh. She looked down, saw him staring—saw what he was seeing. Her pussy was shaved smooth, the outer lips on the plumper side, a soft pink flushed dark with arousal. The inner lips peeked out, smaller, shiny with slick. Her clit was a tight little nub, already peeking from its hood, throbbing visibly. And everything was wet. Shiny and wet, her juices smeared across her thighs, a string of it stretching between her folds.
"Spread her open," Kevin said.
The man in front of her used his thumbs to part her lips. The sound was obscene—a wet shliccck as her folds separated, revealing the deep pink of her hole, the gleam of her inner walls. She was clenching on nothing, her cunt squeezing at the air, desperate for something to fill it.
"Please," she heard herself say. "Please, I need—"
"What do you need?"
"Cock. Fingers. Anything. Just—nnnggghh—"
Kevin's hand slipped between her legs and two fingers shoved inside her.
Not gently. Not slow. He pushed into her soaked cunt fast and deep, and the sound—schlluurrrrp—was loud enough to hear over the music bleeding through the walls. Her head snapped back. Her mouth opened in a silent scream. Her cunt gripped his fingers, wet and tight and hot, the walls clamping down like she was trying to milk something out of him.
"Tight," Kevin said, fucking his fingers in and out, a steady wet rhythm. Shlik-shlik-shlik-shlik. "Tight little pussy. You're going to feel so fucking good around a cock."
"More," she gasped. "More fingers—"
He added a third. The stretch was intense, her cunt straining to accommodate, but she was so wet it didn't matter, the slick easing his way. Her juices were dripping down his palm now, running over his knuckles, splattering onto the floor. Splurt. Splurt. Every time he drove in, a little gush of fluid escaped around his fingers.
Other hands were on her tits again. Someone was pinching her nipples, rolling them between thumbs and forefingers, and the sharp jolts of sensation went straight to her clit. Someone else was behind her, hands on her ass, spreading her cheeks, a thumb brushing against her asshole. She clenched there too—involuntary, a little spasm that made the man chuckle.
"She's got a tight little ass too."
"Later," Kevin said. "Right now I want to see her cum on my fingers."
He curled them inside her, pressing up, and—
There.
Her G-spot. That rough patch of tissue on her inner wall, and he was rubbing it, rhythmic pressure that made her vision blur. The wet sounds were constant now, a filthy symphony. Squelllch. Squelllch. Shlp-squelllch. Her cunt was making noises she'd never heard her body make before, and the men were loving it, murmuring encouragement, telling her how good she sounded, how wet she was, how much they wanted to fuck her.
"Gonna cum," she gasped. "I'm gonna—I'm gonna fucking—"
"Cum," Kevin said, and bit her nipple.
The orgasm hit like a fist. Her cunt convulsed around his fingers, clamping down so hard she could feel every knuckle, every ridge of his skin. A gush of fluid soaked his hand—not just wetness, but a spray, a splatttt that splattered onto his shirt and the floor. She was squirting. She'd never squirted before, never, and now she couldn't stop, her pussy pumping out liquid in rhythmic spurts as his fingers kept working her G-spot.
"That's it," Kevin growled. "Fucking squirt for me. Make a mess."
Shploooosh. Another gush. Her legs gave out.
The men caught her. They lifted her, carried her to one of the leather couches, and she was on her back now, legs spread wide, her cunt still pulsing, still wet. She was barely aware of what was happening—hands were everywhere, mouths too, someone sucking on her tits, someone kissing her neck, Kevin still between her legs, still fingering her even though she'd just cum.
"Too sensitive—" she started, but he didn't stop.
"I know," he said. "That's the point."
His thumb found her clit and pressed. Hard.
She screamed. The sound tore out of her, raw and high, her whole body jerking. The sensitivity was agonizing, her clit throbbing under the direct pressure, but he didn't let up, just rubbed in tight circles while his fingers kept fucking into her. Shlik-shlik-shlik-shlik. The wet sounds were obscene. Her cunt was making noises like she was being stirred, like the inside of her was just liquid and heat and need.
"I can't—it's too much—"
"You can." Kevin's voice was calm. "You're going to cum again. Right now."
She did. The second orgasm was sharper than the first, less of a wave and more of a detonation, and she squirted again, a bigger gush this time, spraying across Kevin's chest, across the couch, across the floor. SPLAAAASH. The men around her groaned. Someone said, "Fuck yes." Someone else said, "I'm next."
Kevin finally pulled his fingers out. They were dripping, coated in her slick all the way to his wrist, and he held them up for her to see.
"Taste yourself."
He pushed them into her mouth. She tasted salt and sweet and something musky, something that was undeniably her, and she sucked his fingers clean, her tongue laving between them, getting every drop. The men watched, transfixed. One of them had his cock out already, stroking it slowly, the head dark and wet with pre-cum.
"Looks like everyone's ready," Kevin said. "You want cocks, Kim Lip? You want to get fucked by every man in this room?"
She nodded, still sucking his fingers, drool running down her chin.
"Then let's get started."
Everything accelerated.
She was pulled up, repositioned. Someone lay down on the couch beneath her—a man with thick arms and a thicker cock, already hard, already slick from lube or pre-cum, she couldn't tell. He positioned himself between her legs, the head of his dick pressing against her soaked entrance.
"Sit on it," Kevin said. "Take it all."
She sank down.
Her cunt stretched around him, the head pushing past her outer lips, and she felt every inch of him—the ridge of the head, the veins along the shaft, the way he filled her completely. She was so wet that he slid in without resistance, but the size of him still made her gasp. Schluuuuurp. Her pussy made that sound as she took him to the base, her ass settling against his thighs.
"Oh fuck," the man beneath her groaned. "She's so tight. So fucking wet."
She barely had time to adjust before someone else was there, standing in front of her, another cock bobbing at eye level. This one was longer, thinner, with a slight curve to the left, and the head was shiny with pre-cum.
"Suck it," Kevin said. "Use that pretty mouth."
She opened wide. The cock pushed in, hitting the back of her throat, and she gagged—glrrrkkk—a wet, choking sound that made the man grab her hair.
"Good girl. Take it deeper."
She tried. Her throat convulsed around the head, saliva pouring out around the shaft, dripping down her chin and onto her tits. The man beneath her had started to thrust, short pumps up into her cunt, and every time he bottomed out, the impact made her tits bounce, the man in front of her groaning at the sight.
"She's a natural," someone said. "Born for this."
Hands pushed her tits together, creating a channel of cleavage, and then another cock was there, sliding between them. She couldn't see who it belonged to—everything was a blur of bodies and heat and the overwhelming sensation of being filled on all sides. The cock between her tits thrust up, bumping against the bottom of her chin, and the man in her mouth and the man in her cunt and the man at her tits all moved at once, finding a rhythm that made her feel like she was being fucked in three places simultaneously.
Shlik-shlik-shlik came from her cunt, the man beneath her pumping faster now. Gllrk-gllrk-gllrk from her throat, the cock sliding in and out. Thwap-thwap-thwap from between her tits, skin against skin, the sound sharp and rhythmic.
"This is what you wanted, isn't it?" Kevin's voice, somewhere near her ear. "You wanted to be used. You wanted to be nothing but holes for our cocks. Admit it."
She couldn't speak—her mouth was full—but she moaned, a high desperate mmmmnnnffff that vibrated around the shaft in her throat.
"Louder," Kevin said. "Tell me you're a slut for this."
The cock pulled out of her mouth just long enough for her to gasp, "I'm a slut—I'm a fucking slut for this—please, more—"
Then it was back in, deeper this time, and she was choking again, her throat working around the intrusion, her eyes watering, her makeup running. She must have looked like a mess—drool on her chin, tears on her cheeks, her hair a tangled wreck—but the men were looking at her like she was the most beautiful thing they'd ever seen.
"Her cunt's gripping like crazy," the man beneath her gasped. "I'm gonna cum—I'm gonna fill her up—"
"Do it," Kevin said. "Paint her insides."
The man groaned, his hips jackhammering up into her, and she felt it—the hot rush of cum flooding her cunt, thick and warm, filling her up. Splurt. Splurt. Splurt. She could feel every pulse of his cock as he emptied into her, his seed mixing with her slick, a creamy mess that was already starting to drip out around his shaft.
"Shit, that's hot," someone said.
He pulled out, and immediately another man was there, this one behind her, pushing her forward onto her hands and knees. Her face was pressed into the couch cushions, her ass in the air, her cunt dripping cum onto the leather. The new cock entered her from behind—schlllooorp—and she moaned into the cushions, the sound muffled but still loud.
This one was thicker than the first, and the angle was different, the head of his cock hitting deeper inside her, and every thrust made her gasp. The cum from the previous man slicked the way, and she could hear it—squelch-squelch-squelch—the wet sloppy sound of a well-used pussy being fucked again.
"Look at that," Kevin said. "Look at the mess she's making."
Someone grabbed her hair, pulled her head up so she could see the room. She watched through blurry eyes as another man positioned himself in front of her again, this one stroking his cock toward her face.
"Open up."
She did. The cock slapped against her cheek—thwap—leaving a smear of pre-cum on her skin, before he guided it to her lips. She sucked it in, hollowing her cheeks, tasting salt and skin, and the man behind her fucked her harder in response, his thrusts forcing her forward onto the cock in her mouth.
There was no rhythm anymore. It was chaos—cocks everywhere, hands everywhere, her body not her own but something to be passed around and used. She was on her back again. Then on her side. Then straddling someone, her cunt swallowing another cock while someone else pressed against her ass. The men didn't wait. As soon as one finished, another took his place. They didn't ask, didn't hesitate, just lined up and pushed in, and she took it, took everything, her body somehow accommodating them all.
"So good—you're doing so good—" Kevin's voice, somewhere in the blur. "Take another one. Take two."
Two?
"Two cocks," he said. "In that greedy little cunt. You can take it."
She was on her back again, legs spread wider than she'd ever spread them, and the man beneath her was still inside—still hard, still pumping—and another man was positioning himself above, his cock pressing into her already-filled pussy.
"Wait—"
"Shhh," Kevin said. "You'll love it."
The second cock pushed in.
The stretch was overwhelming. Her cunt was being forced open wider than it had ever been, the two cocks sliding against each other inside her, and the sensation was so intense she couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't do anything but feel. Both men groaned, their shafts rubbing together through the thin wall of her slick.
"Fuuuck, I can feel him—"
"Me too, holy shit—"
They started to move, not in rhythm but independently, one pushing in while the other pulled out, a relentless pistoning that kept her cunt constantly full, constantly stretched. The wet sounds were obscene—splortch-splortch-splortch—her pussy making noises so loud and so wet that it sounded like she was underwater.
"More lube," someone said, and cold liquid was poured over her spread lips, dripping down onto the two cocks, making everything even slicker, even noisier.
Her clit was throbbing. Someone had a thumb on it, rubbing aggressively, and she was going to cum again, she could feel it building, a pressure deep in her gut that was going to explode—
"Don't you dare," Kevin said, noticing. "Not yet. You cum when I say."
"Please—"
"No."
The thumb lifted off her clit. She sobbed, a broken sound, her cunt spasming around the two cocks inside her. They kept fucking. They didn't care that she was right on the edge, that her whole body was screaming for release. They just kept pumping, and Kevin kept her denied, and somewhere in the haze of it all she realized she'd never been happier.
"Now," Kevin said, fifteen minutes later, or maybe an hour—time had lost all meaning. "Now you can cum."
The thumb returned to her clit, rubbing hard, and the two cocks in her cunt pistoned faster, and she exploded.
The squirt was enormous. A geyser of fluid erupted from her pussy, spraying the men in front of her, spraying Kevin, spraying the couch and the floor and everything. She screamed, a sound she'd never made before, her throat raw, her body convulsing, her cunt clamping down so hard on the two cocks that both men groaned and started cumming too, shooting their loads deep inside her at the same time, filling her up until cum was pouring out around their shafts in thick white rivulets.
Glrrrrrg. Splooooosh. Gush-gush-gush.
She collapsed. Somehow she ended up on the couch, her legs still spread, cum dripping out of her pussy in an unending stream. Her whole body was trembling, drenched in sweat and saliva and cum and her own fluids. Her tits were red from all the attention, her nipples swollen and sore. Her throat burned. Her cunt ached.
And Kevin was still there, still looking at her with those dark eyes, his own cock in his hand, stroking slowly.
"We're not done," he said. "Not even close."
She looked up at him, her voice a wreck. "More?"
"More," he confirmed. "Every man in this room is going to cum at least twice before we're finished with you. And then…" He leaned down, his mouth against her ear. "Then I'm going to see how many loads you can swallow before you pass out."
The room was already moving again—cocks hardening, hands reaching, more lube being poured.
And Kim Lip, her body wrecked, her mind floating somewhere high above the scene, spread her legs wider and smiled.
"Then what are you waiting for?"
Kevin didn't give her time to recover.
"Flip her over," he said, and hands grabbed her—rough palms on her hips, her shoulders, her sweat-slick thighs—and suddenly she was on her stomach, the leather couch cool against her flushed tits, her ass in the air. She was too weak to resist, too wrecked to do anything but let them position her however they wanted. Her cunt was still dripping, cum and slick running down her inner thighs in thick rivulets, and her whole body felt like it was vibrating at some frequency she couldn't control.
"Look at that ass," someone said. A hand smacked her right cheek—sharp, stinging, the sound a crisp SMACK that made her jerk forward. "Been waiting to get in here all night."
"Patience," Kevin said. "She needs to be ready."
She felt him move behind her, felt the couch dip as he knelt between her spread legs. His hands landed on her ass, kneading the flesh, spreading her cheeks apart. She knew what he was looking at—her pussy, still swollen and pink and leaking cum, and above it, her asshole, a tight little ring of darker pink, still untouched.
"Please," she heard herself say, her voice muffled against the leather. "Please, Kevin—"
"Please what?" His thumb traced down the cleft of her ass, pressing lightly against that tight hole. She clenched automatically, and he laughed. "Please put it in? Please stretch this little asshole open?"
"Yes. Fuck. Yes, please."
"Not yet." His thumb pressed harder, just the tip breaching her, and she gasped. "You're so fucking tight here. We need to get you ready first."
She heard the snick of a bottle opening. Lube. Cold liquid drizzled directly onto her asshole, making her flinch, and then Kevin's fingers were there, rubbing it in, circling the rim with slow pressure.
"Get her cunt filled while I work on this," Kevin said to the room. "Keep her busy."
Immediately, someone was beneath her—she recognized the thick arms of the first man who'd fucked her, the one who'd already cum once tonight. He was on his back on the couch, his cock already hard again, slick with lube and her previous wetness. He positioned himself under her hips.
"Slide down, sweetheart. Take it."
She lowered herself onto him without hesitation, her cunt swallowing his cock in one wet schluuurrrrp. The sound was obscene, made even filthier by the cum still inside her, squishing out around his shaft as she took him to the base. Her pussy was so used now, so stretched and slick, that he slid in with almost no resistance.
"Fuuuck," he groaned. "She's still so goddamn wet."
"Of course she is," Kevin said. "She's a fucking slut. She's probably been wet since she walked in here." His fingers—two of them now, slick with lube—pressed against her asshole again. "Haven't you?"
"Yes," she gasped. "Since I walked in. Since I saw you. I've been wet the whole time."
The man beneath her started to thrust, slow pumps up into her cunt. Shlik-shlik-shlik. Kevin's fingers pushed harder against her ass, and the first one slid in.
Her whole body went rigid. The sensation was alien—full in a way she'd never experienced, her cunt stuffed with cock and her ass stretching around Kevin's finger. He moved it slowly, in and out, letting her adjust to the intrusion, and the man beneath her kept fucking her through it, his rhythm steady, shlik-shlik-shlik, the sounds from her pussy wetter than ever.
"Relax," Kevin said. "If you clench, it's going to hurt."
She tried. She forced herself to breathe, to let her muscles go slack, and Kevin's finger slid deeper, all the way to the knuckle.
"There you go. Good girl."
A second finger. The stretch was more intense now, a burning pressure that made her gasp and grip the couch cushions. She could feel the two fingers inside her ass, separated from the cock in her cunt by only a thin wall of tissue, and the fullness was overwhelming.
"Feel that?" Kevin scissored his fingers, stretching her wider. "Feel how tight you are? We're going to open you up. Get you ready for a real cock in here."
"Mmmmnfff—" She couldn't form words. The man beneath her was thrusting faster, his cock hitting deep, and Kevin's fingers were working her ass in counter-rhythm, pushing in when the cock pulled out, pulling out when the cock pushed in. She was being fucked from both sides, in both holes, and she couldn't think, couldn't breathe, couldn't do anything but feel.
A third finger. Squellllch. The lube made it wet, messy, loud. Her asshole was stretched wide now, the rim pink and tight around Kevin's knuckles, and she could hear the wet sounds of his fingers moving in her— shlurp-shlurp-shlurp —a different texture than her cunt, thicker somehow, more resistant.
"She's ready," Kevin said, pulling his fingers out. Her asshole gaped for a moment before clenching shut, and she felt the emptiness like a loss. "Who wants her ass?"
"Me." A new voice, deeper, rougher. "I've been waiting to fuck that tight little hole since I saw her walk in."
"Then get on the couch. She's going to ride both of you."
The man beneath her pulled out— schlooorp —leaving her cunt empty and dripping, and she whimpered at the loss. Hands repositioned her, lifted her, and she found herself straddling two men now, both on their backs on the wide leather couch. The first man was still beneath her, his cock aimed at her cunt. The second man was behind him, or rather beneath her from a different angle—she couldn't quite see how they'd arranged themselves, but both of them were there, their cocks standing up, slick and ready.
"Take them both," Kevin said. "Cunt first, then ass. Do it yourself."
She reached down, wrapping her fingers around the first cock, guiding it to her entrance. The head pressed against her folds, parting them, and she sank down with a wet schluuump. Her cunt took him easily, greedily, the walls still slick and stretched from before.
Then she leaned forward, bracing her hands on the first man's chest, tilting her hips up.
"Now the other one," Kevin said. "Guide him in."
She reached behind her, her fingers trembling, and found the second cock. It was thicker than she'd expected, the head broad and blunt, and she pressed it against her asshole—slick with lube, still stretched from Kevin's fingers, but so much bigger than three fingers, so much wider—
"Push down," Kevin said. "Slowly."
She did.
The head breached her. Pop. The sound was audible, a wet little noise as the thick crown pushed past her sphincter, and she screamed—not in pain, not exactly, but in intensity, in the overwhelming sensation of being filled in both holes simultaneously. The cock in her cunt felt huge, and the cock in her ass felt even bigger, and together they were splitting her apart, stretching her to her absolute limit.
"Holy fuck ," the man in her ass groaned. "She's so tight. I can feel him through the wall—I can feel his cock moving in her cunt—"
"Keep going," Kevin said. "Take it all."
She pushed down further, inch by inch, feeling both cocks slide deeper into her. The one in her cunt was rubbing against her G-spot, and the one in her ass was pressing against something that made her vision blur, some nerve cluster she didn't know existed. By the time both men were fully sheathed inside her, her ass flush against the second man's thighs, her cunt full to the brim, she was sobbing.
Not crying. Sobbing with pleasure, her whole body shaking, her cunt and ass both clenching uncontrollably around the cocks inside her. She could feel them through the thin membrane separating them—could feel the ridges of each shaft, the veins, the way they pulsed when either man so much as twitched. The sensation was so intense it bordered on hallucinatory.
"Move," Kevin said. "Fuck her."
Both men started to thrust.
The rhythm was chaotic at first—one pushing in while the other pulled out, then both pushing in at the same time, then one pausing while the other hammered. But soon they found a pattern, a relentless seesaw that kept her constantly filled, one hole emptying while the other filled, a piston of flesh that never let her rest. Shlik-shlik-shlik from her cunt. Shlurp-shlurp-shlurp from her ass. The sounds layered on top of each other, a filthy counterpoint, her body making noises she'd never imagined possible.
"Listen to that," Kevin said. "Listen to your holes. They're singing for us."
She could hear it. She could hear everything—the wet squelch of her cunt, the thicker, more resistant sound of her ass, the slap of skin against skin as the men thrust up into her, the thwap-thwap-thwap of their thighs hitting the backs of hers. Her tits were bouncing wildly with every impact, swinging forward and back, her swollen nipples grazing the chest of the man beneath her.
"Grab her tits," Kevin instructed. "She likes that."
Hands found her breasts immediately—not just one pair but several, men crowding around the couch to touch her. Someone pinched her nipples, hard, and she cried out, the sound high and desperate. Someone else leaned over and sucked one into his mouth, his tongue flicking against the hardened peak while his teeth grazed the sensitive skin. Sllrrrrrp. The wet sound of his mouth on her tit merged with the wet sounds from her holes, a symphony of obscenity.
"She's taking it so well," the man in her cunt gasped. "Her pussy's gripping me like she's trying to milk my cock dry."
"Her ass too," the man behind her groaned. "Tight as a fucking fist. I'm not gonna last."
"Don't you dare," Kevin said. "Not until I say."
He moved around to the front of the couch, positioning himself directly in front of her face. She looked up at him through tear-blurred eyes—her makeup was a wreck, mascara streaking down her cheeks, lipstick smeared, drool on her chin. He was unzipping his pants, pulling out his cock, and she saw it for the first time.
It was beautiful. Thick, long, with a slight upward curve near the head, veins prominent along the shaft, the tip dark and slick with pre-cum. He stroked it slowly, looking down at her.
"Open your mouth."
She did. He pushed in, not gently, and her throat opened around him with a wet glrrrk. The taste of him flooded her tongue—salt and skin and something musky—and she sucked automatically, her cheeks hollowing, her tongue pressing against the underside of his shaft.
"Good slut," Kevin murmured, his hand fisting in her hair. "Suck my cock while they fuck your holes. You're going to make me cum down your throat, and you're going to swallow every drop."
Mmmmnfff. The sound vibrated around his shaft, and he groaned.
She was being fucked in three places now—her cunt, her ass, and her throat—and there was nothing else in the world. No music, no club, no lights. Just the endless rhythm of cocks moving in her, the wet sounds of her own body, the taste of Kevin on her tongue, the feel of his fingers tightening in her hair. She was a vessel. A receptacle. A set of holes to be used, and she'd never felt more alive.
The men beneath her picked up speed. The one in her cunt was driving up into her with short, hard thrusts, his cockhead battering against her cervix, and every impact sent a jolt of pain-pleasure through her body. The one in her ass was going deeper now, his thickness stretching her to the point of burning, and she could feel herself clenching around him, her asshole gripping his shaft like it didn't want to let go. Squelch-squelch-squelch. The sounds from her other hole were wetter than ever, her cunt producing so much slick that it was running down the man's balls, pooling on the leather beneath them.
"Faster," Kevin said, his voice strained. "Fuck her faster."
Both men obeyed. The rhythm became brutal—hard and fast and unrelenting, their cocks pistoning into her from below while Kevin's cock fucked her throat from above. Her tits slapped against the chest of the man beneath her with every impact. Smack-smack-smack. Someone was still playing with her nipples, twisting them, and the sharp jolts of sensation went straight to her clit—which no one was touching, but it didn't matter, the indirect stimulation from the cocks filling her was enough to have her hovering on the edge of orgasm.
"Don't cum," Kevin warned. "You don't cum until I let you."
She whimpered around his shaft. She was so close. So fucking close. The cocks in her holes were hitting every spot inside her, and the one in her throat was cutting off her air just enough to make her lightheaded, and the combination of it all was pushing her toward a precipice she desperately wanted to fall over.
But Kevin didn't let her.
He pulled out of her mouth just long enough for her to gasp, "Please—please let me cum—"
"No."
The cock went back in, deeper this time, her throat convulsing around it. Glllrk-glllrk-glllrk. She was choking, tears streaming down her face, saliva pouring from the corners of her mouth and dripping onto the man beneath her. She must have looked like a complete disaster—a ruined, wrecked, used-up mess—and Kevin was looking at her like she was the most exquisite thing he'd ever owned.
"Your cunt's squeezing so hard," the man beneath her gasped. "Fuck, I'm—I can't—"
"Yes you can," Kevin said. "Hold it. Hold it for her."
The man made a strangled noise but slowed his thrusts, fighting his orgasm. The man in her ass did the same, both of them trembling with the effort of not cumming while her holes clenched and spasmed around them. She could feel their restraint in the way their muscles tensed, the way their cocks twitched inside her, and knowing they were holding back for her—for Kevin's control of her—made her feel something she couldn't name.
"Now," Kevin said. "Now you can both cum. Fill her up."
Both men groaned simultaneously, and she felt it—hot cum flooding her cunt, hot cum flooding her ass, two cocks pulsing inside her as they emptied their loads into her body. Splurt-splurt-splurt from below, thick ropey strands painting her inner walls. Splurt-splurt-splurt from behind, hot seed jetting deep into her bowels. She could feel it filling her, warming her from the inside, and it was so much—so much cum, so much sensation—that she almost came right there, almost disobeyed Kevin's order, her body teetering on the edge—
"Don't," Kevin said, and she held on. Somehow. She held on.
The men pulled out of her, one after the other. Her cunt gaped, cum pouring out of it in thick white streams, splattering onto the leather couch. Sploosh-sploosh-sploosh. Her ass did the same, the cum leaking out of her stretched hole and running down her thighs. She felt empty and full at the same time—empty of cocks, full of seed—and her whole body was shaking.
Kevin pulled out of her mouth last. She gasped for air, her throat raw, her jaw aching. He looked down at her, his cock still hard, still slick with her saliva.
"You did good," he said. "But we're not done. Not even close."
Hands flipped her over. She was on her back now, staring up at the ceiling, her legs splayed wide, cum oozing from both her used holes. There were still men around her—she'd lost count of how many had cum, how many were still waiting. Her mind was hazy, drifting, and she felt like she was floating somewhere above her own body.
Kevin moved between her legs. He lowered himself down, his face level with her cunt, and she watched as he examined her—the puffy, swollen lips, the stretched hole, the cum still leaking out of her in lazy pulses.
"Look at this mess," he murmured. "Such a pretty pussy, so full of cum."
His tongue dipped into her cunt.
Schlllrrrrrp.
She screamed. The sensation was electric—her clit was so sensitive, so overstimulated, that even the indirect contact of his tongue on her folds made her whole body convulse. But Kevin didn't stop. He licked into her, lapping up the mixture of cum and her own slick, his tongue pushing deep into her hole and then withdrawing to circle her clit.
"Too much—it's too much—"
"Shut up," Kevin said against her cunt, the vibration of his words making her jerk. "You're going to give me one more. Squirt for me. Right now."
His mouth closed over her clit and sucked. Hard.
She detonated.
The squirt was violent—an eruption of fluid that sprayed from her cunt directly into Kevin's mouth and across his face, a gusher that seemed to go on and on. SPLAAAAASH. Her hips bucked, her back arched, her whole body seized, and the orgasm ripped through her like a natural disaster. She could hear herself screaming, a raw, animal sound, but it felt like it was coming from someone else.
Kevin drank her. His mouth stayed on her cunt, swallowing every gush, his tongue still working her clit as she squirted, extending the orgasm past the point of pleasure into something that bordered on agony. Her vision went white. Her hearing muffled. For a moment, she existed only as a sensation—a single point of overwhelming feeling that consumed everything else.
When she came back to herself, Kevin was sitting up, his face soaked, his shirt drenched. He was grinning.
"Perfect," he said. "Now clean me up."
He pulled her up by the hair, positioning her on her knees on the floor, her face level with his stomach. She understood what he wanted. She leaned forward and licked her own squirt off his abs, his chest, his neck, her tongue lapping up the musky-sweet fluid. The taste was strange—not unpleasant, just unfamiliar—and she licked him clean with the same enthusiasm she'd used to suck his cock.
"That's a good girl," Kevin said, his hand stroking her hair almost tenderly.
Behind her, she heard movement. Men shifting, cocks being stroked, the wet sounds of lube being applied. They were getting ready for another round. More. They wanted more.
"There are still eight men who haven't cum in your ass," Kevin said, tilting her chin up to look at him. "Think you can take all of them?"
She should say no. Her body was wrecked. Her cunt was sore, her ass was sore, her throat was raw, her tits were bruised. She'd cum so many times she'd lost count, and the thought of more—more cocks, more fucking, more cum—should have been impossible.
Instead, she said, "Yes. Give me all of them."
Kevin's grin widened. "I knew you were perfect the moment I saw you."
He stepped back, gesturing to the room. "Get her back on the couch. Ass in the air. Everyone who wants her back hole, line up. You get five minutes each. Make them count."
Hands grabbed her again, lifting her, positioning her on her hands and knees on the leather. Her ass was presented to the room, her stretched hole still leaking cum, glistening with lube and spit and everything else. She felt the first man step up behind her, felt the head of his cock press against her asshole.
"Ready?" he asked.
She pushed back against him, taking the head inside her with a wet pop.
"Fuck me," she said. "Fucking ruin my ass."
He did.
The next hour—or maybe it was two, or three, time had stopped meaning anything—was a blur of cocks and cum and holes being filled. The men took turns on her ass, five minutes each, and she took every single one of them. Some were thick, stretching her wide, making her gasp with every inch. Some were long, hitting deep inside her, pressing against places she didn't know existed. Some curved, rubbing against her inner walls in ways that made her see stars. But all of them fucked her hard, pounding into her ass while she gripped the couch cushions and screamed.
Between turns, they kept her cunt busy too. Sometimes a man would slide under her and fuck up into her pussy while another took her ass from behind, double-penetrating her again, a different combination of cocks each time. Sometimes they'd flip her over and fuck her tits while someone else hammered into her ass. Sometimes they'd pull her up and pass her around, one after another, her holes never empty for more than a few seconds.
"Fuck, her ass is so tight—"
"Look at it grip my cock—"
"She's taking it so good, such a dirty slut—"
The dirty talk washed over her, words blending together into a soundtrack of degradation that only made her wetter. Her cunt was producing so much slick that it coated her thighs, dripped onto the couch, mixed with the cum constantly leaking out of her. The leather beneath her was soaked, slippery, and more than once she lost her grip and face-planted into the cushions, only for the men to simply keep fucking her in whatever position she landed in.
Every time someone came in her ass, she felt it—the hot rush of cum flooding her bowels, the way her hole clenched around the pulsing shaft. And every time someone pulled out, the cum would gush out after him, a splortch of white fluid that splattered onto the couch and the floor. It was so much cum. Gallons of it, it felt like. Filling her up and leaking out and filling her up again, an endless cycle of seed.
By the time the eighth man finished in her ass, she was barely conscious. Her mind had gone somewhere else—some quiet place where she could observe her body being used without feeling the full impact of it. But even in that detached state, she was aware of Kevin's voice, Kevin's presence, Kevin's control over everything.
"Bring her to me," Kevin said.
She was lifted, carried, deposited on her knees in front of him. He was sitting on a chair now—he must have pulled one up at some point—and his cock was in his hand, hard and slick, clearly worked up from watching the others fuck her.
"Twelve men have cum in you," he said. "Most of them twice. You've taken more cock tonight than most women take in a lifetime." His hand reached down, tilting her chin up. "But I haven't cum yet. Not once. I've been saving it."
She looked up at him with dazed eyes. "Please," she whispered, her voice a wreck. "Please cum. I want you to cum. Want it so bad."
"Where do you want it?"
"Everywhere." The word came out without thought, pure instinct. "In my mouth. On my face. In my cunt. I want all of it."
"Yeah?" He stood up, his cock bobbing at eye level. "You want me to paint you with my cum? Mark you as mine?"
"Yours," she breathed. "Make me yours."
He fisted his hand in her hair, pulling her head back. "Then open your fucking mouth."
She opened wide. Tongue out. Waiting.
Kevin stroked himself, fast and hard, his breath coming in sharp gasps. Shlik-shlik-shlik. The wet sound of his hand on his cock, slick with her saliva from earlier. His face was tense, jaw clenched, eyes locked on hers.
"You're going to swallow everything I give you," he said. "And then you're going to thank me for it."
"Yes—yes—please—"
The first shot hit her tongue. Splurt. Hot and thick, salty-sweet, coating the back of her throat. She swallowed reflexively, her throat constricting around the load. Gulp. The second shot painted her tongue again, and the third, and the fourth—more cum than she'd expected, so much of it, flooding her mouth. Splurt-splurt-splurt.
"Keep your mouth open," Kevin growled, and he angled his cock upward, the next few shots hitting her face—her lips, her cheeks, her nose, the bridge of her brow. Thwap-thwap-thwap. Thick white ropes streaked across her skin, warm and viscous, dripping down toward her chin.
"Now your tits." He aimed lower, pumping the last of his load onto her chest. The cum splattered across her nipples, her sternum, the swells of her breasts. Splut-splut-splut. She felt it sliding down her skin, hot at first and then cooling, mingling with the sweat and dried cum already there.
When he was done, he stood over her, breathing hard, his spent cock still glistening. She was covered in him—face, tits, mouth still full of the cum he'd shot onto her tongue.
"Swallow what's in your mouth," he said.
She did. Her throat worked, the thick fluid sliding down, and she licked her lips afterward, gathering the cum that had splattered there and sucking it into her mouth.
"Good girl." Kevin crouched down, his face level with hers. "Now clean me off."
She leaned forward and took his softening cock into her mouth, sucking gently, her tongue cleaning every trace of cum from his shaft. He was sensitive now—she could tell by the way his breath caught—but he let her do it, his hand still in her hair, guiding her.
When she pulled back, his cock was clean, and her face was a mess. Cum dripped from her chin, her nose, her eyelids. Her tits were glazed with it. She'd never felt filthier in her entire life.
She'd never felt better.
"There are still six men who haven't finished," Kevin said, tucking himself back into his pants. "And I think they've been waiting very patiently to cum on that pretty face of yours."
She looked past him, saw the remaining men standing in a semicircle, cocks in hand, stroking slowly. They'd been watching her take Kevin's load, and from the looks on their faces, they were ready to add their own.
"Line up," Kevin said to them. "She's going to take every single one of you on her face. And she's going to thank each of you afterward."
He looked down at her, his dark eyes unreadable.
"Aren't you?"
She nodded, a slow, dreamy movement. "Yes," she said. "I want to taste all of them. I want to be covered in it."
The first man stepped forward. His cock was already leaking, pre-cum beading at the tip, and he aimed it at her face with a shaky hand.
"Open up, slut."
She did.
And the cum started flowing again.
Splurt. The first shot hit her tongue and she swallowed without being told—a reflexive gulp that pulled a groan from the man above her.
"Fuck, look at her. She's doing it already."
Splurt-splurt. Two more ropes streaked across her nose and her left cheek, warm and thick, sliding down toward her jaw. She kept her mouth open, tongue extended, a canvas waiting for paint, and the next man didn't make her wait. He stepped into the gap before the first had even finished dripping off her chin, his cock longer, thinner, the head almost purple, and he stroked himself fast and frantic.
"On your tits," he said. "Wanna see my cum on those fucking tits."
He aimed low. Splat-splat-splat. The shots landed across her nipples, mixing with Kevin's earlier load, a fresh coat of white on her swollen peaks. She arched her back, pushing her chest out, offering herself, and the man groaned, milking the last drops onto her sternum.
"Thank you," she whispered, her voice raw, barely there. "Thank you for your cum."
"Holy shit."
The third man was already there, cock in hand, and he didn't bother aiming. He grabbed her hair, pulled her face toward his groin, and rubbed the head of his dick across her lips, smearing pre-cum and the previous man's seed across her mouth like gloss. Schlick-schlick-schlick. The sound of his shaft sliding over her wet face.
"Open wider," Kevin said from somewhere behind her. "Let him fuck your face if he wants."
He wanted. The cock pushed past her lips, not deep—just the head, just enough that when he came, splurt-splurt-splurt, she felt every pulse on her tongue, hot and thick and flooding her mouth. She swallowed. Gulk. Her throat worked around the load, and when he pulled out, she opened her mouth to show him it was empty.
"Clean," she said. "All gone."
"Jesus Christ."
The fourth man came on her right cheek, his cum streaking across her ear and into her hair. The fifth painted her forehead, aiming high, laughing when it dripped down into her eyebrow. The sixth grabbed her tits, pushed them together, and fucked the cleavage until he erupted, splut-splut-splut, coating her chest and neck and the underside of her chin.
By the time all six had finished, she was glazed. Cum dripped from her hair, her eyelids, her lips, her nipples, her fingers. It pooled in the hollow of her throat, ran in rivulets down her stomach, soaked into the leather beneath her knees. She was a monument to semen, a statue carved from salt and skin and surrender, and she'd never looked more beautiful.
Kevin crouched in front of her, tilting her chin up with two fingers. His eyes swept over her face—the streaks, the drips, the mess—and something flickered in his expression. Approval. Possession. Something darker.
"You're still not broken," he said quietly. "Not yet. Not all the way."
She blinked at him through cum-clumped lashes. "I want to be."
"I know." He stood, turning to address the room. "Five of you. The ones who haven't fingered her yet. Get over here. Lie down on the couch. The rest of you, watch."
Movement. Bodies shifting. She was lifted—hands under her armpits, hands on her thighs—and carried to the couch again. This time they laid her on her back across five men who had positioned themselves side by side, a platform of flesh beneath her. Her head rested on one man's stomach. Her ass was cradled across another's thighs. Her legs were spread wide, held open by different hands, her pussy and asshole both exposed to the air, both still leaking cum from the previous rounds.
"She's so fucking wet," one of the men beneath her said, his voice vibrating through her back. "I can feel her dripping on me."
"Of course she's wet," Kevin said. "She's a whore. Aren't you, Kim Lip?"
"Yes." The word came out dreamy, distant. "I'm a whore. I'm your whore."
"Five fingers in your cunt. Five in your ass. At the same time." Kevin said it like he was ordering a drink. "And you're going to squirt on all of them."
The first finger entered her cunt. Just one, sliding in easily through the slick and the leftover cum, a wet schluurp that made her gasp. The man beneath her—thick fingers, rough knuckles—curled it upward, finding her G-spot immediately, pressing against that swollen patch of tissue.
"That's one."
Another finger, in her ass this time. She'd been fucked so much back there tonight that it slid in without resistance, her hole still stretched and slick with lube and cum. Shlurp. The sensation was familiar now, almost comfortable.
"That's one in each hole. Keep going."
The second finger in her cunt joined the first, spreading her wider, the stretch making her bite her lip. Then the second in her ass, and she could feel them through the thin membrane, two fingers in front, two in back, separated by nothing but the wall of her body. She clenched involuntarily and the men groaned.
"She's gripping us—"
"Keep going."
Three fingers in her cunt. The stretch was intense now, her pussy filled with knuckles and nails and the press of callused skin against her inner walls. Three in her ass, and she could feel the burn, the pleasant ache of being spread open, and still Kevin didn't tell them to stop.
"Four."
Four fingers in her cunt. The fullness was overwhelming, her hole stretched wide around the girth of a man's hand, and she could feel her juices running down his wrist, could hear the wet squelllch of her pussy struggling to accommodate. Four in her ass, and it was too much—it had to be too much—but her body opened anyway, her muscles relaxing, her holes yielding, because that's what she did now. She yielded.
"Five."
Five fingers in her cunt. Five fingers in her ass. Two entire hands inside her body at once, filling her completely, stretching her further than any cock had, and the sound— splortch-splortch-splortch —was animal, was pornographic, was the sound of a woman being turned inside out. She could feel the fingers in her cunt pressing against the fingers in her ass through the thin wall of flesh separating them, could feel them rubbing against each other inside her, and somewhere in the back of her mind a voice was screaming impossible but her body said more.
"Fuck her with them," Kevin said. "Both hands. Make her cum. Make her squirt all over this fucking room."
Both hands moved. Not in rhythm—chaotically, independently, the fingers in her cunt pistoning while the fingers in her ass twisted and spread, and the simultaneous stimulation was so intense her vision whited out. Schlik-schlik-schlik from her cunt. Shlurp-shlurp-shlurp from her ass. The sounds layered, overlapped, became a single wet symphony, and she was making noise too—ah-ah-ah-ah—high-pitched and desperate, her hips bucking against the hands inside her.
"There," Kevin said. "Right there. Don't stop. Don't you fucking stop."
They didn't stop. The fingers in her cunt were pounding her G-spot relentlessly, and the fingers in her ass were stretching her so wide she could feel air on her insides, and her clit—no one was touching her clit but it didn't matter, the indirect pressure was enough, was more than enough, was everything—
"Gonna—I'm gonna—"
"Cum. Now."
She squirted.
The fluid erupted from her cunt with a force she'd never felt, a geyser that sprayed across the men's arms, across their chests, across Kevin who was standing close enough to get soaked. SPLAAAAASSSHHHH. The sound was liquid and violent, and she kept cumming, kept squirting, the hands inside her still working, still pumping, and she felt the second orgasm hit before the first had even finished.
"Again," Kevin said. "Keep going. Ruin her."
Sploooooosh. Another gush. The hands in her cunt and ass kept moving, kept stretching, kept pressing, and she couldn't stop cumming—it was one continuous orgasm now, wave after wave, her body no longer her own but just a vessel for pleasure, a machine that produced squirt and screams and nothing else.
Her brain went blank.
She forgot her name. Forgot the club. Forgot everything except the feeling of hands inside her and the taste of cum on her tongue and the sound of Kevin's voice saying again, again, again. There was no Kim Lip anymore. There was just holes. Just need. Just a body that existed to be filled and used, a slut-shaped thing that had been waiting her whole life to become this.
"Look at her face," someone said, and the words came from very far away. "She's gone. She's fucking gone."
Through her haze, she felt hands withdrawing—the fingers sliding out of her cunt with a wet schlooorp, the fingers pulling out of her ass with a splortch. Cum and squirt poured out of both holes in a flood, pooling beneath her on the leather, and she heard Kevin laugh.
"She's ruined," he said. "Finally."
Hands lifted her. She couldn't move on her own anymore, could barely keep her eyes open. She was placed on her knees on the floor, and Kevin's shoes appeared in her line of sight—expensive leather, spattered with her fluids.
"What do you want, Kim Lip?"
She opened her mouth. The words came from somewhere deep, somewhere primal, somewhere that had been unlocked by an hour of hands stretching her holes and cum flooding her throat.
"Cock," she said. "I want cock. I want to suck it. I want it in my cunt. I want it in my ass. I want all of them. I want to cum again. I want to be filled up. I want—" She breathed, and the breath was a sob and a prayer. "I want to be a slut. Just a slut. Nothing else. That's all I am now."
Kevin crouched down, his face level with hers. His eyes were dark, satisfied—the look of a man who'd accomplished exactly what he'd set out to.
"That's right," he said softly. "That's all you are. A perfect little cockslut. And from now on, every time you walk into this club, you're going to end up here. On your knees. Covered in cum. Begging for more."
"Yes."
"Say it. Say what you are."
"I'm a cockslut. I'm your cockslut. I exist to get fucked. That's—" She swallowed, tasting salt on her lips. "That's the only thing I want to think about. The only thing I want to be."
Kevin smiled. He stood, looking around at his men—exhausted, drenched in sweat and cum and squirt, but still watching, still hungry.
"Clean her up. Get her something to drink. And when she recovers…" He looked down at her, his smile sharp as a knife. "We're only getting started."
Tags : Punishment, Sex Pet, Anal Whore, Anal Sex, Anal Creampie, Threesome, FFM Threesome, Kinky, Full Throttle, Pile Driver, Cowgirl, Cum Eating, Daddy Kink, Orgasm Denial, Multiple Orgasm, Creampies, Moaning, Screaming, Spanking, Tit Biting, Steamy Sex
Words : 13,115 Words
Part 2 and A Continuation of Punishing My Cheating Gf Pt.1 Hope Everyone Enjoyed The Story.
Winter's face is pressed into the floor.
Not the mattress—the floor. She slipped off the bed at some point during your last round with her ass, her body sliding bonelessly onto the hardwood, and now she lies there in a crumpled heap of sweat-slicked limbs and ruined makeup. Her cheek is squished flat against the wood. Her mouth hangs open. A puddle of drool is spreading beneath her lower lip, thick and stringy, glistening under the lamplight.
And her eyes.
Jesus fuck, her eyes.
They're rolled so far back you can barely see the irises—just white, just the bloodshot edges of her sclera, her pupils somewhere up near her skull. Her tongue lolls out, fat and pink and wet, drool cascading over her chin in thin rivulets. The expression on her face is pure brainless ecstasy—mouth slack, brows lifted, cheeks flushed a deep, feverish red. Ahegao. The kind of face you've only ever seen in hentai screenshots, the kind of face that signals a complete and total shutdown of higher brain function. She's not Winter anymore. She's not even your dog. She's a creature made entirely of fucked-out bliss, and every few seconds a giggle bubbles up from her throat—high-pitched, unhinged, utterly empty.
"Tee-hee… tee-hee-hee…"
Her asshole clenches. Relaxes. Clenches again. And then—with a wet, obscene splurt that echoes in the quiet room—a glob of your cum pushes out of her gaped hole and slides down her perineum toward her cunt. The white fluid is thick, pearlescent, mixed with the faintest trace of pink from the rough fucking you gave her. It drips onto the floor, joining the other stains, and Winter giggles again.
"More… daddy… more cum… tee-hee…"
Mina watches this from her spot near the wall, her arms still crossed over her chest. Her expression isn't satisfied anymore. The clinical fascination that was there a moment ago has curdled into something else—something sharper, something colder. Her dark eyes narrow as she looks at Winter's ruined form, then shift to Minho, still crumpled against the wall, still crying, his trapped cock an angry purple monstrosity between his thighs.
"You think this is funny?" Mina's voice cuts through Winter's giggling like a blade. "You think you've been punished enough?"
Winter doesn't respond. Can't respond. She's too far gone, her brain too thoroughly scrambled by your cock and your cum and the relentless pounding you've given her holes. Another giggle escapes her mouth. Another splurt of cum drips from her ass.
Mina's jaw tightens.
She turns to Minho, and her heels click against the floor with deliberate, measured steps. Each one makes Minho flinch. His tear-streaked face lifts toward her, and the terror in his eyes is so pure, so absolute, that you almost feel something. Almost.
"Four months," Mina says, standing over him. "Four months of lies. Four months of me cooking you dinner. Four months of me sucking your cock. Four months of me believing you when you said you loved me." Her voice doesn't waver. Doesn't crack. It's steady and cold and sharp as a scalpel. "And the whole time, you were fucking her."
Minho opens his mouth, but no words come out. Just a whimper. Just a pathetic, strangled sound that makes Mina's lip curl in disgust.
"You wasted my time," she continues. She lifts her foot—the black stiletto heel catching the light—and places it directly on his trapped, swollen cock. "You wasted my money. I paid for your dinners. I bought your clothes. I gave you two years of my life."
She presses down.
Minho screams.
Not the guttural scream from before—this one is high-pitched, desperate, the sound of an animal caught in a trap. His whole body convulses, his hands flying to Mina's ankle, but she doesn't stop. She grinds her heel against the steel ring, against the purple flesh, against the bulging veins. The cage rattles. The ring digs deeper. Minho's balls, already swollen to the size of plums, turn a shade of purple so dark they look black.
"Mina—please—I'll pay you back—I'll do anything—"
"You'll pay me back?" Mina laughs—that cold, brittle sound that's becoming the soundtrack to this night. "With what? With this?" She presses harder, and Minho's scream cuts off into a choked gurgle. "This worthless piece of meat? This pathetic excuse for a cock? You can't even get hard with it locked up like this. You can't do anything. You're nothing."
She leans down, her face inches from his, her heel still grinding against his ruined cock.
"You're not a man," she whispers. "You're a disappointment in human skin. You couldn't satisfy me. You couldn't satisfy her." She jerks her head toward Winter's limp, giggling form. "And now you can't even satisfy yourself. Look at you. Crying on the floor. Cock locked up. Balls ready to burst. You're pathetic, Minho. You've always been pathetic. I just didn't want to see it."
Minho sobs. His hands fall away from her ankle. He stops fighting. He just lies there, pinned to the floor by her heel, tears streaming down his face, and lets her grind her foot against the most sensitive part of his body.
"I'm sorry," he chokes out. "I'm so sorry—"
"Sorry doesn't cut it." Mina pulls her foot back, and Minho gasps in relief, his body curling inward, his hands cupping his abused genitals. "Sorry doesn't un-fuck all the nights you spent inside her. Sorry doesn't give me back my two years. Sorry doesn't make you any less of a worthless, cheating, limp-dicked piece of shit."
She turns away from him, dismissing him completely, and her eyes find yours.
Something shifts in her expression.
The cold fury doesn't disappear—it's still there, burning in her dark irises—but it's joined by something else. Something hungrier. Something that makes her pupils dilate and her lips part just slightly. She looks at you the way Winter looked at you an hour ago—before you broke her, before you remade her. Like she's seeing you for the first time.
An idea sparks in her gaze. You can practically see it forming—the way her eyes widen, the way her head tilts, the way a slow, calculating smile spreads across her sharp-featured face.
"Minho," she says, still looking at you. "Do you want to know what a real man looks like?"
Minho doesn't answer. He's still curled on the floor, still crying, still clutching his swollen balls.
Mina's hands move to the straps of her red dress.
The fabric slides off her shoulders with a whisper, pooling at her elbows, then her waist, then the floor. She steps out of it, naked except for a black lace thong that barely covers anything, and the sight of her body hits you like a physical force.
Mina is lean where Winter is soft. Her frame is angular, sharp, all high cheekbones and defined collarbones and hip bones that jut out like blades. Her tits are small—smaller than Winter's—with dark brown nipples that are already tight and pebbled. Her stomach is flat, almost concave, the muscles shifting beneath her skin as she breathes. Her legs are long and toned, and the way she stands—shoulders back, chin high, utterly unashamed—makes her look like a goddess carved from marble and spite.
"Look at me," she commands Minho, but her eyes are still on you. "Look at what you're never going to touch again."
Minho lifts his head. His gaze drags over Mina's naked body, and a fresh wave of tears spills down his cheeks. The cage rattles. His cock tries—fails—to respond to the sight of the woman he betrayed.
Mina ignores him. She walks toward you, her bare feet silent on the hardwood, her hips swaying with deliberate, predatory grace. When she reaches you, she doesn't hesitate. Her hand cups the back of your neck. Her fingers tangle in your hair. And then she pulls your mouth to hers.
The kiss is nothing like Winter's. Winter kissed like a lover—soft, pliant, desperate to please. Mina kisses like a conqueror. Her tongue pushes past your lips with aggressive hunger, tasting you, claiming you. Her teeth graze your lower lip, then bite down—not hard enough to draw blood, but hard enough to make you feel it. Her body presses against yours, skin to skin, her small tits crushed against your chest, her hip bone digging into your thigh.
Behind her, you hear Minho make a strangled sound. A protest. A plea. You don't care.
Mina pulls back just long enough to lift her left hand—the one not tangled in your hair—and extend her middle finger in Minho's direction. She doesn't look at him. Doesn't acknowledge him. Just flips him off while her tongue traces the edge of your ear.
"From now on," she breathes against your skin, "I'm your woman. Not his. Yours. I don't want that stupid, pathetic excuse for a man anymore." Her hand slides down your chest, nails raking lightly over your skin, leaving faint red lines. "So please… fuck me. Just like you fucked Winter. Make me feel good."
You smirk against her mouth.
"With pleasure."
But Mina pulls back before you can grab her. She holds up one finger—wait—and turns toward Winter's limp, giggling form on the floor.
"Not so fast," Mina says. "I want an audience."
She walks over to Winter and grabs her by the hair, dragging her across the floor toward the bed. Winter yelps—the first coherent sound she's made in minutes—but doesn't resist. Her body slides easily across the hardwood, leaving a trail of drool and cum in her wake. When they reach the foot of the bed, Mina shoves Winter's face toward the mattress.
"Stay there," Mina commands. "Watch. Don't move. Don't touch yourself. Just watch."
Winter's eyes are still glazed, still unfocused, but something flickers in their depths. Awareness. Recognition. Jealousy. She looks at you, then at Mina, then back at you, and her lower lip trembles.
"Daddy… please… I want—"
"Shut up." Mina doesn't even look at her. She climbs onto the bed and positions herself in the center of the mattress, her legs spreading wide, her black lace thong the only barrier between you and what you're about to claim. "You had your turn. Two loads in your cunt, one in your ass, another in your throat. And you're still a cheating whore. You don't deserve more."
Winter whimpers. Her hands clench into fists on the floor. But she doesn't move. Doesn't argue. Just watches with desperate, hungry eyes as Mina reaches down and hooks her thumbs into the waistband of her thong.
The lace slides down her thighs. Past her knees. Off her ankles.
Mina's pussy is different from Winter's. Where Winter's cunt is plump and pink and almost innocent-looking, Mina's is sharp and severe—a dark slit nestled between lean thighs, the outer lips thin and delicate, the inner folds just barely visible. She keeps herself trimmed rather than waxed, a neat strip of black hair above her clit that points downward like an arrow. Her clit itself is prominent, already peeking out from its hood, already glistening with the first evidence of her arousal.
"See this?" Mina says, looking directly at Minho. She reaches down with both hands and spreads her pussy lips apart, exposing the pink, slick flesh within. "This is what you're never going to taste again. This is what you're never going to fuck again. This belongs to him now. Watch him use it better than you ever could."
Minho makes a sound—something between a sob and a groan—and you see his hands moving toward his locked cock. His fingers fumble against the steel ring, trying to find some way to stimulate himself through the metal. The head of his dick has turned an even darker shade of purple, and his balls look like they're about to burst.
"Look at him," you say, climbing onto the bed between Mina's spread thighs. "Trying to jerk off through the cage. Pathetic."
"Don't look at him." Mina's hand grabs your chin, forcing your gaze back to her face. "Look at me. I want your tongue inside me. Now."
You don't make her ask twice.
You lower your mouth to her cunt, and the first taste of her floods your senses—salt and musk and something faintly sweet, like honey left too long in the sun. She's not as wet as Winter was, not yet, but she's getting there. Your tongue traces the length of her slit, parting those thin outer lips, and Mina's breath catches in her throat.
"Fuck," she murmurs, her fingers threading through your hair. "That's—yes—"
You lick her again. Slower. Deeper. Your tongue dips inside her, tasting the heat of her channel, and Mina's hips roll upward to meet your mouth. She's not passive like Winter. She doesn't lie back and take it. She fucks your face with deliberate, grinding motions, using your tongue like a toy, chasing her pleasure with single-minded intensity.
"That's it," she gasps, her grip on your hair tightening. "Eat my pussy. Eat it like you mean it. Show Minho how a real man satisfies a woman."
You oblige. Your tongue finds her clit—that prominent, swollen nub—and you suck it between your lips. Mina cries out, a sharp, startled sound that's nothing like Winter's desperate moans. Her thighs clamp around your head. Her back arches off the mattress.
"Fuck—fuck—you see this, Minho?" Her voice is ragged, breathless, but still sharp enough to cut. "This is how you—aahh—this is how you satisfy a woman—with your mouth—with your tongue—not with excuses—not with lies—"
Minho's response is unintelligible—just a wet, choking sob that fades into background noise. You don't look at him. You're too focused on Mina's cunt, on the way her clit pulses against your tongue, on the way her juices are flowing more freely now, coating your chin and cheeks with her slickness.
"Deeper," she commands, shoving your face harder against her pussy. "Fuck me with your tongue. Get it inside me."
You slide your tongue as deep into her cunt as it will go. Her walls are hot and tight and already starting to flutter around the intrusion. She tastes incredible—musky and rich and unlike anyone else. Your nose presses against her clit as you fuck her with your tongue, and the dual stimulation makes her hips buck wildly.
"Yes—yes—just like that—fuck—"
You feel her getting close. Her thighs are trembling. Her grip on your hair is almost painful. Her breathing has gone ragged and quick, her chest heaving, her small tits bouncing with every desperate inhale.
But you're not going to let her come. Not yet.
You pull back, and Mina makes a sound of pure frustration—a growl, almost feral, that makes Winter flinch on the floor.
"Why did you stop?" Mina's eyes are wild, her carefully controlled composure cracking at the edges. "I was almost—"
"I know." You crawl up her body, positioning yourself between her thighs, the head of your cock nudging against her slick entrance. "But I want to feel you come on my cock. Not my tongue."
Mina stares at you for a moment, her chest heaving, her expression caught somewhere between fury and desperate need. Then she laughs—a breathless, almost giddy sound that transforms her sharp features into something softer.
"Then fuck me," she says, and her legs wrap around your waist, pulling you closer. "Fuck me like you mean it. Fuck me like you own me. Because you do now. You own this pussy. Not Minho. Not anyone else. You."
You drive into her in one hard, smooth thrust.
Mina's cunt is tighter than Winter's—not in a physical sense, but in the way she clenches around you, deliberately, intentionally, milking your shaft with muscles she's obviously trained. She's wet enough now that the slide is easy, but the grip… the grip is incredible. Every inch of your cock is squeezed and stroked by her inner walls, and the heat of her is almost overwhelming.
"Fuuuck," Mina groans, her head falling back, her throat exposed. "That's—that's so much better than his—his pathetic little dick—"
You start to move. Slow at first, pulling out until just the tip is inside her, then sliding back in until your hips press against hers. Mina's body moves with you, matching your rhythm, her hips rising to meet every thrust. The wet sounds of your fucking fill the room—schlick, schlick, schlick—and underneath that, you can hear Winter's desperate whimpering from the floor.
"Daddy… please… I want… please let me… I need…"
"Shut up." Mina's voice is strained but still commanding. "You don't get to come. You don't get to touch yourself. You just get to watch. Watch him fuck me better than he ever fucked you."
Winter sobs. You hear her hands slapping against the floor in frustration, but she doesn't disobey. She doesn't touch herself. She just watches with those glassy, desperate eyes as you pick up the pace.
You fuck Mina harder now—deeper, faster, the way she clearly wants it. Her tits bounce with every thrust, small and firm, the dark nipples tight peaks that you lean down to suck into your mouth. Mina cries out, her nails raking down your back, her legs locking tighter around your waist.
"Don't stop—don't fucking stop—"
You have no intention of stopping. You're pounding into her now, the headboard slamming against the wall with every thrust, the sound of flesh slapping against flesh mixing with Mina's increasingly incoherent moans. She's losing control. The carefully maintained composure, the cold calculation, the sharp-edged cruelty—it's all dissolving into pure, mindless pleasure. Her eyes are starting to roll back. Her mouth is hanging open. Her tongue—that sharp tongue that's been spewing venom all night—is now just lolling uselessly, drool gathering at the corners of her lips.
"Look at me," you growl, grabbing her chin the same way you grabbed Winter's. "Look at me while I fuck you."
Mina's eyes focus on your face with visible effort. "Y-yes—I'm looking—I'm looking—"
"Who owns this pussy?"
"You do—you own it—it's yours—"
"Say my name."
"Y/n—" The name tears out of her throat like a prayer. "Y/n—fuck—Y/n—"
From the floor, Winter makes a broken, keening sound. "Daddy—please—I said your name too—please don't forget about me—please—"
You ignore her. You're too focused on Mina, on the way her cunt is starting to flutter and clench around you, on the way her breathing has gone high and tight and desperate. She's close. You can feel it in the way her inner walls grip you, in the way her thighs are starting to shake, in the way her eyes keep trying to roll back despite her efforts to keep them fixed on your face.
"You want to come?" you ask, your voice rough with your own building pleasure.
"Please—please let me come—"
"Then come. Come on my cock. Scream my name. Let everyone in this building know who's fucking you."
Mina's orgasm hits her like a detonation.
Her back bows off the mattress so hard you're afraid she might snap her spine. Her mouth opens in a soundless scream, her eyes finally rolling back completely, her cunt clamping down on your shaft with rhythmic, pulsing contractions that seem to go on forever. She gushes around you—not quite squirting, but so wet that you can feel her juices running down your balls and dripping onto the sheets.
"Y/N—FUCK—I'M COMING—I'M COMING ON YOUR COCK—"
The sound of your name in her wrecked, desperate voice pushes you dangerously close to the edge, but you're not done yet. You're not done with Mina. You're not done punishing Winter. You're not done making Minho watch as another woman—his woman—comes apart on your cock.
You flip Mina onto her stomach before her orgasm has even finished.
She gasps at the sudden movement, but doesn't resist. She's too limp, too fucked-out, too thoroughly satisfied to do anything except lie there as you position her on her hands and knees. Her ass is different from Winter's—less round, more muscular, the cheeks firm and tight. You spread them apart and look at the dark pucker of her asshole, but you don't touch it. You're not going to fuck Mina's ass tonight. That's not what tonight is about.
Tonight, you're going to fill Mina's cunt until she can't walk straight. Until Winter understands that her punishment isn't over. Until Minho understands that he's lost everything.
You slide back into Mina's pussy from behind, and she moans—a low, guttural sound that vibrates through her whole body. This angle is deeper, your cock reaching places it couldn't in missionary, and the way Mina clenches around you tells you she feels every inch.
"Fuck—yes—from behind—fuck me from behind—"
You grab her hips and start pounding into her with long, deep strokes. Her ass bounces against your pelvis with every thrust, the firm cheeks rippling from the impact. Her spine arches deeper. Her head drops forward until her forehead is pressed against the mattress. Her hands scrabble at the sheets, searching for something to hold onto.
"Harder—fuck me harder—I want to feel you in my throat—"
You give her harder. You give her everything. Your hips slap against her ass with brutal, punishing rhythm, and the sounds Mina is making are barely human anymore—grunts and moans and breathless shrieks that blend together into a symphony of pure, unrestrained lust.
And through it all, Winter watches.
She's crawled closer to the bed—not touching, not quite disobeying, but close enough that you can see the desperation in her face. Her eyes are fixed on the place where your cock disappears into Mina's cunt. Her mouth is hanging open. Her fingers are digging into the floor so hard you can see the whites of her knuckles.
"Daddy… please… please… I'm your dog… I'm your bitch… please let me… please…"
"Stay," you command, not breaking rhythm. "Stay and watch. You don't get to come. You don't get to touch. You just get to watch."
Winter's face crumples. Tears spill down her already-tracked cheeks, mixing with the drool and the ruined mascara. But she stays. She doesn't touch herself. She just watches with those hungry, desperate, utterly broken eyes as you fuck Mina into the mattress.
And in the corner, Minho is doing the same.
His hands are wrapped around his locked cock, fingers fumbling uselessly against the steel ring, trying to find some way—any way—to stimulate himself. The head of his dick is so purple now it looks almost black, and his balls are so swollen they're pressing against the ring with visible tension. He's in pain—obvious, excruciating pain—but he can't seem to stop touching himself. Can't seem to stop trying to get off to the sight of you fucking the woman he thought belonged to him.
"Mina…" His voice is a broken whisper, barely audible over the sounds of your fucking. "Mina… please… I'm sorry… I'm so sorry…"
Mina doesn't hear him. Or if she does, she doesn't care. She's too lost in her own pleasure, too consumed by the cock pounding into her cunt, too far gone to spare a thought for the crying man in the corner.
"Y/n—" Her voice is cracking, breaking, falling apart. "I'm going to—fuck—I'm going to come again—please—can I come again—"
"Come," you growl, reaching around to rub her clit with your fingers. "Come on my cock. Come as many times as you want. I'm going to fill this pussy with my cum."
The combination of your cock and your fingers is too much. Mina's second orgasm hits her even harder than the first, her whole body convulsing, her cunt clamping down on your shaft so hard it almost hurts. She screams—a raw, primal sound that tears out of her throat—and then she's babbling, an incoherent stream of words that barely make sense.
"Fuck—Y/n—yes—fill me up—fill my pussy—I want your cum—I want it all—give it to me—"
The sensation of her cunt milking your cock pushes you over the edge.
You bury yourself to the hilt inside her, grinding your hips against her ass, and explode. The first jet of cum blasts against her cervix with enough force to make her gasp. The second floods her channel, thick and hot and overwhelming. The third, fourth, fifth spurts keep coming, your balls drawing up tight and emptying everything they have into her clutching, pulsing pussy.
"Take it," you growl, still grinding against her. "Take every fucking drop."
Mina is still coming—still fluttering around you—her orgasm stretching on and on as your cum fills her. You can feel it pooling inside her, can feel the way her cunt gets wetter and hotter with every pulse of your cock. When you finally pull out, a flood of white follows—your seed mixed with her juices, dripping out of her stretched hole and running down her thighs in thick rivulets.
Mina collapses onto the mattress, her face buried in the sheets, her ass still up, her pussy still leaking. Her body is limp, her breathing ragged, her eyes closed. She looks almost peaceful—the sharp edges of her face softened by exhaustion and satisfaction.
But you're not done.
You flip her onto her back before she can recover, and she stares up at you with dazed, glassy eyes. "Again?" she breathes, and the word is half-disbelief, half-desperate hope.
"Again," you confirm, positioning yourself between her thighs. "I told you. I'm going to fill this pussy until you can't walk."
"Daddy—please—" Winter's voice cuts through the room, high and desperate. "Please—you already came inside her—please let me—I need you—I need your cock—I'll do anything—"
You look at her. At the woman who cheated on you for four months. At the woman who's been crying and begging and crawling for what feels like hours. At the woman whose holes are still gaping and leaking your cum.
"No," you say, and you slide back into Mina's cum-filled cunt.
Winter sobs. A full-body, wracking sob that shakes her entire frame. But she doesn't look away. She doesn't stop watching. Her eyes stay fixed on your cock as it saws in and out of Mina's pussy, the wet sounds even more obscene now with your cum acting as extra lubricant.
Schlick. Schlick. Schlick.
Mina is moaning again, her hips rising to meet yours, her legs wrapping around your waist. "Yes—yes—don't stop—fuck my pussy—use me—use me like you used her—"
You fuck her slower this time—deeper, more deliberate, savoring every stroke. Mina's cunt is so wet now it's almost messy, your cum and her juices mixing to create a slick, white foam around the base of your cock. The sight of it—of your shaft disappearing into her creampied pussy, emerging coated in pearlescent fluid—is obscene. Primal. Perfect.
"Look at her," you say to Winter, nodding toward Mina's blissed-out face. "She's getting what you don't deserve. She's getting my cock. She's getting my cum. She's getting my attention. And you… you just get to watch."
"I'm sorry—" Winter's voice cracks. "I'm so sorry—I was bad—I was a bad dog—but I can be good—I can be so good—please give me another chance—"
"Maybe." You don't slow your rhythm. "Maybe if you watch long enough. Maybe if you're patient enough. Maybe if you prove you've learned your lesson."
And so Winter watches.
She watches as you fuck Mina through another orgasm, this one quieter than the last—a shuddering, whimpering release that makes her eyes flutter closed and her mouth fall open. She watches as you pull out and flip Mina onto her side, lifting one leg over your shoulder and sliding back into her from a new angle. She watches as Mina's tits bounce with every thrust, as Mina's mouth forms your name over and over, as Mina's hands reach up to grab your shoulders and pull you deeper.
In the corner, Minho watches too.
His hands are still wrapped around his caged cock, still fumbling uselessly. His eyes are red and swollen from crying. His dick is so purple now it looks genuinely concerning—the flesh bulging against the steel ring, the head straining toward some impossible release. He's in agony. Physical agony from the constriction. Emotional agony from watching another man fuck his girlfriend. Spiritual agony from the complete and total loss of everything he thought he had.
"Mina…" he whispers. "Winter…"
Neither woman responds. Winter is too focused on you and Mina. Mina is too focused on the cock pounding into her cunt.
You fuck Mina in missionary now—her legs pushed back toward her chest, her knees nearly touching her shoulders, her pussy spread wide and vulnerable beneath you. It's an intense position, one that puts pressure on her body and lets you drive deeper than ever before. The head of your cock bumps against her cervix with every thrust, and Mina gasps—a sharp, pained-pleasured sound that makes Winter flinch.
"Fuck—fuck—that's so deep—"
"You can take it." You're panting now, sweat dripping down your forehead, your body starting to tire but your lust burning brighter than ever. "You wanted me to fuck you like I fucked Winter. This is how I fucked Winter. Deep and hard and without mercy."
Mina's response is a moan—a long, drawn-out sound that seems to come from somewhere deep in her chest. Her eyes are rolling back again. Her tongue is lolling out. The cold, calculating woman who walked into this apartment an hour ago is gone. In her place is something else. Something hungry. Something ruined.
Something that belongs to you.
"I'm going to come again," you grit out, your rhythm starting to falter. "I'm going to fill this pussy again. Another load. Another creampie."
"Yes—yes—do it—fill me up—"
You look at Winter as you come. Lock eyes with her. Watch the desperate, shattered expression on her face as you bury yourself in Mina's cunt and pump another thick load of cum into her womb. The first jet makes Mina cry out. The second makes her claw at your back. The third, fourth, fifth spurts fill her so completely that cum starts leaking out around your shaft before you've even pulled out—white fluid dripping onto the sheets, mixing with the evidence of your first load.
Winter whimpers. Her whole body is trembling. Her hands are clenched so tight her nails are digging into her palms.
"Daddy… please… I need… please…"
You pull out of Mina slowly, watching the way her cum-filled pussy gapes and twitches. A thick stream of white follows your cock, pooling on the sheets beneath her. Mina lies limp, her legs still spread, her chest heaving, her eyes closed in exhausted bliss.
You stand up, your own legs a little unsteady, and look down at the two women—one on the bed, one on the floor. Both leaking your cum. Both utterly broken. Both yours.
In the corner, Minho has stopped trying to touch himself. His hands have fallen to his sides. His head is hanging low. His trapped, purple cock bobs slightly with every shaky breath, and a single tear drips off his chin onto the floor.
You walk over to him.
He looks up at you with those red-rimmed eyes, and for a moment—just a moment—you see the man who was your best friend. The man who stood beside you at your father's funeral. The man who helped you move into this apartment.
Then the moment passes.
"How does it feel?" you ask, your voice quiet. "Watching me fuck both of them? Watching me fill them with cum? Watching them beg for more?"
Minho's mouth opens. Closes. No words come out.
"That's what I thought." You turn away from him, back toward the bed where Mina is still sprawled, still leaking, still barely conscious. "We're not done yet."
Winter's still on her knees when you turn to her.
Her glassy eyes are fixed on the space between you and Mina and the bed, darting from your cum-slick cock to Minho's curled form against the wall. That desperate hunger hasn't faded—if anything, it's gotten sharper, more feral, a starved animal watching food dangle just out of reach.
"You want my cock," you say. Not a question.
Winter's head bobs frantically. Drool swings from her chin. "Yes—yes, daddy—please—"
"Then earn it." You nod toward Minho. "He's the reason you're not getting fucked right now. He's the reason you've been watching instead of feeling. If it weren't for him, you'd be on my cock right now. So do something about it."
Winter blinks. The words take a moment to penetrate the fog of lust clouding her brain. "What… what do you mean?"
"I mean," you say, stepping closer and grabbing her hair, "go over there and hurt him. Punch his cock. Stomp his balls. Make him suffer. Show me how mad you are that he kept you from getting what you need."
From the corner, Minho makes a strangled noise. "No—Winter, no—you don't have to—"
"Shut up." Mina's voice cuts through, still thick with post-orgasmic bliss but sharp enough to draw blood. She's propped herself up on her elbows on the bed, her cum-leaking cunt still on display, watching the scene unfold with renewed interest. "I want to see this."
Winter rises to her feet.
She's unsteady—hours of fucking and crying and crawling have turned her legs to jelly—but she moves toward Minho with a purpose that wasn't there before. Her expression shifts as she crosses the room. The blank, fucked-out emptiness hardens into something else. Something furious.
"You," she breathes, staring down at him. "This is your fault."
Minho scrambles backward, but the wall stops him. His hands fly up in pathetic defense. "Winter—please—I love you—I told you I love you—"
"No you don't." Her voice cracks. "You just wanted my cunt. You wanted my mouth. You used me. And now—" She gestures back at you, at her own leaking, ruined body. "Now daddy won't fuck me because of you. Because I was stupid enough to spread my legs for a worthless piece of shit like you."
She kicks him.
Her bare foot connects with his ribs, and Minho grunts, curling inward. The steel ring glints around his trapped cock, that purple-black flesh bulging obscenely against the metal. Winter stares at it—at the swollen head, the engorged veins, the balls that have turned the color of bruised plums—and her lip curls.
"This stupid fucking cock," she spits. "This is what started everything. This pathetic little dick that couldn't even make me come half the time."
Her foot lifts.
Minho sees what's coming. His eyes go wide. "Winter—don't—"
She brings her heel down on his cock.
The sound Minho makes isn't human. It's a shriek—high and keening and full of agony—as Winter's foot grinds his trapped shaft against the floor. The steel ring digs deeper into his flesh. His balls flatten under the pressure of her arch. His whole body convulses, hands scrabbling at her ankle, but Winter doesn't stop.
"That's for lying to me," she hisses, bearing down harder. "That's for making me think you actually gave a fuck about me."
"Please—please—it hurts—"
"Good." She lifts her foot and brings it down again. Harder. Minho screams. "That's for every time you fucked me and left me unsatisfied."
Another stomp. Another scream.
"That's for four months of sneaking around!"
Stomp.
"That's for making daddy stop fucking me—"
Stomp.
"—so I had to watch him fuck Mina—"
Stomp.
"—while I sat there empty and dripping and desperate—"
Stomp. Stomp. Stomp.
Winter is sobbing now, tears carving clean tracks through the mess on her face, but she doesn't stop. Her foot hammers down again and again—on his cock, his balls, his belly, his thighs. Every part of him that made her a cheater. Every part of him that kept her from your cock. She kicks his ribs until he wheezes. She stomps his balls until his shrieks fade into wet, choking gurgles. She grinds her toes against the steel ring until the flesh beneath turns an even deeper, more agonized shade of purple.
"You—fucking—bastard—" Each word is punctuated by impact. "You ruined me—you ruined everything—"
Minho's hands have fallen limp at his sides. He's not even trying to defend himself anymore. Just lies there, taking it, tears streaming down his cheeks, his tortured cock a swollen monument to his sins.
Mina watches from the bed, her dark eyes glittering. "Look at her go," she murmurs. "Our little attack dog."
Winter kicks Minho one final time—a savage blow to the stomach that makes him retch—and stumbles backward. Her chest heaves. Sweat drips down her body. Her foot is smeared with the pre-cum that's been leaking from Minho's trapped cock, a glistening sheen that catches the lamplight.
Then she turns to you.
The fury bleeds out of her expression in an instant, replaced by something soft and desperate and utterly submissive. She drops to her hands and knees. Crawls. Her ass sways with every movement, her cum-stained thighs glistening, her gaped holes still leaking onto the floor. When she reaches your feet, she presses her forehead to the hardwood.
Her hips lift. Her back arches. Her ass moves in the air—left, right, left, right—a dog wagging its tail, presenting itself to its master.
"I did what you wanted, daddy. I hurt him. I made him suffer." Her voice is a wrecked, desperate whisper. "So please… please fuck your pet. Fuck your anal whore."
You look down at her. At the woman who cheated on you for four months. At the woman who, ten minutes ago, was stomping her lover's cock into pulp. At the woman who is now kneeling at your feet, ass up, holes presented, begging for your cock like it's the only thing keeping her alive.
"Good girl," you say.
And you grab her hips.
Your cock is still half-hard, still slick with Mina's cum, still twitching with the need for more. You position yourself behind Winter, the head of your dick pressing against the ruined pucker of her asshole. She's still loose from earlier, still gaping, and when you push forward, you slide in with one smooth, obscene thrust.
"AAAAHHHH—DADDY—"
Winter's scream is pure, unfiltered ecstasy. Her asshole clenches around you—not the desperate, painful clench of before, but a welcoming grip, a hole that's learned to love being filled. Her back arches deeper. Her fingers claw at the floor. Her whole body shudders as you bottom out inside her.
"Fuck—yes—thank you—thank you, daddy—your pet needed this—your whore needed your cock in her ass—"
You don't go slow. You don't ease her into it. You fuck her hard from the first thrust, your hips slapping against her ass with brutal, punishing rhythm. The sound fills the room—wet and obscene, her asshole squelching around your shaft, your previous loads still leaking from her cunt and dripping onto the floor with every impact.
Schlick. Schlick. Schlick.
"Look at me," Mina commands from the bed.
Winter's head snaps up. Mina has crawled to the edge of the mattress, her lean body shimmering with sweat, her cum-filled cunt leaving a trail on the sheets. She reaches down and grabs Winter's chin, forcing her to meet her eyes.
"You like being daddy's anal whore?"
"Yes—yes—I love it—I love being daddy's anal whore—"
Mina's hand slides from Winter's chin to her chest. Her fingers find Winter's nipple—pale brown, pebbled tight—and squeeze.
Winter moans. A desperate, broken sound that vibrates through her whole body and makes her asshole clench tighter around your cock.
"Such a slutty little nipple," Mina murmurs. She twists it. Winter gasps. "Did Minho ever play with your nipples? Did he suck them? Bite them?"
"No—no, only daddy—only daddy did—"
"Then daddy should see them properly used." Mina leans down and takes Winter's nipple between her teeth.
She bites.
Winter screams—but it's not pain. Or not just pain. The sound tears out of her throat as a shriek that dissolves into a moan, her body bucking backward against your cock, her asshole milking your shaft. Mina's teeth sink deeper into the tender flesh, and her hand snakes down to Winter's belly.
She punches her.
Not a gentle tap. A real punch, a solid impact that makes Winter's stomach concave and her whole body jolt. The air rushes out of her lungs in a grunt. Her asshole clamps down on your cock so hard you see stars.
"Fuck—she just got tighter," you growl, slamming into her harder.
Mina pulls back, a string of saliva connecting her lips to Winter's tortured nipple. The nub is red and swollen and glistening. Mina looks at it, then at Winter's dazed, blissed-out face, and grins—a cold, hungry expression.
"Again," Mina says, and punches her belly once more.
Winter's response is a guttural, inhuman sound—half scream, half moan, pure fucked-out bliss. Her eyes roll back until only the whites show. Her tongue lolls out of her mouth. Drool cascades down her chin in thick rivulets.
"Tee-hee… more… hurt me more… daddy's cock… daddy's cock in my ass… Mina's fist in my belly… tee-hee-hee…"
"She's gone," Mina observes, almost admiringly. "Completely gone."
You don't respond. You're too focused on the tight, gripping heat of Winter's asshole, on the way it squeezes and releases around your shaft with every thrust. You grab her hips and flip her—twisting her body into a new position without pulling out, your cock still buried in her ass.
The pile driver.
Winter's shoulders press into the floor, her hips lifted high, her legs splayed in the air. Her ass is directly above her face, your cock driving straight down into her from above. The angle is brutal—deep and intense and relentless—and Winter shrieks with every thrust.
"FUUUUCK—SO DEEP—DADDY—IT'S SO DEEP—"
Mina crawls off the bed and kneels beside Winter's inverted form. Her hand finds Winter's other nipple, twisting and pulling while her mouth descends on the first. She bites. Sucks. Bites harder. Winter's shrieks pitch higher, her body convulsing, her asshole fluttering around your cock.
"Slap her," Mina says, pulling back just long enough to speak. "Slap her face. I want to see it."
You don't hesitate. Your palm cracks across Winter's cheek—the one that isn't already marked by your earlier slaps—and her head snaps to the side. A bright red handprint blooms on her skin.
"Thank you—thank you, daddy—slap your whore—slap your pet—"
You slap her again. Harder. Her cheek is crimson now, the imprint of your fingers stark against her pale skin.
"You're mine," you growl, still fucking down into her ass. "Say it."
"I'm yours—I'm daddy's pet—I'm daddy's anal whore—I'm your fucking dog—"
Mina's hand cracks across Winter's other cheek. "And mine. Say it."
"I'm Mina's too—I'm Mina's toy—I'm both of yours—"
"Good fucking girl."
You pull out—Winter whimpers at the emptiness—and reposition her again. The snake. Winter on her belly, legs together, your cock sliding into her ass from behind at a shallow angle that rubs against every nerve ending. Her ass cheeks press tight around your shaft, and the friction is incredible.
Mina positions herself in front of Winter's face. Her cum-filled cunt hovers inches from Winter's mouth. "Lick," Mina commands. "Clean up the mess daddy made."
Winter's tongue extends immediately, lapping at Mina's pussy with desperate enthusiasm. She moans into the folds, tasting your cum mixed with Mina's juices, her hips grinding backward against your cock. Mina's hand fisted in her hair, shoving her face deeper.
"That's it—clean my cunt—eat daddy's cum out of my pussy—"
You fuck Winter harder now, your rhythm picking up, the need for release building at the base of your spine. Mina reaches around and slaps Winter's ass—once, twice, three times—and each impact makes Winter's asshole clench around you.
"Gonna come," you grit out. "Gonna fill this whore's ass with my cum."
"Do it," Mina says, still grinding against Winter's tongue. "Fill her up. And then fill her again. We're not stopping until she can't walk."
You slam into Winter one final time and let go.
The first pulse of cum floods her bowels, hot and thick. Winter screams into Mina's cunt, her body convulsing beneath you. The second pulse follows, then the third, the fourth, the fifth—your balls drawing up and emptying everything into her clutching, milking asshole. You grind against her, pumping every last drop into her depths.
When you pull out, a gush of white follows—your seed flooding out of her gaped hole, running down her thighs, pooling on the floor beneath her.
Winter doesn't stop licking.
"Thank you," she mumbles against Mina's cunt. "Thank you, daddy. Thank you for filling me. Thank you for using your pet."
You're still hard. Still twitching. Still hungry.
"Full throttle," you say, grabbing her hips. "Now."
"Full throttle," you repeat, and the words are still hanging in the air when you flip Winter onto her back.
The flatiron. Her legs go straight up, ankles crossed, her knees pressed against her chest in a way that makes her asshole gape wide and obscene beneath you. The position is brutal—her spine curved, her weight balanced on her shoulder blades, her cunt and ass both exposed and vulnerable and utterly, completely yours. She stares up at you with those glassy, fucked-out eyes, and her mouth forms a perfect O of anticipation.
"Yes, daddy—use me—fuck your pet—"
You slam into her ass in one brutal stroke.
Winter's scream bounces off the walls, high and keening and full of something that sounds almost religious. Her ankles bob above her head. Her tits press flat against her chest from the angle, nipples dark and swollen and still glistening from Mina's teeth. The cum from your last load acts as lubricant, making the slide obscenely wet, and the sound of your cock sawing in and out of her ruined hole fills the room—squelch, squelch, squelch—wet and filthy and perfect.
Then Mina moves behind you.
Her bare feet are silent on the floor, but you feel her before you see her—the heat of her body, the soft exhale of her breath against your shoulder blade. Her lips press against the space between your shoulders. Soft. Almost tender. A startling contrast to the brutal rhythm of your hips.
"You're incredible," she murmurs against your skin, and her hands slide around your torso. Her fingers find your chest, tracing the contours of your pectoral muscles, her nails dragging lightly through the sweat. "Watching you fuck her… watching you take what you want… god, it makes me so wet."
Her tongue traces the shell of your ear.
The sensation is electric—wet and warm and utterly unexpected. You groan, your rhythm faltering for just a moment, and Mina laughs softly against your ear. Her tongue dips inside, tracing the ridges of cartilage, and then she sucks your earlobe between her lips. Her teeth graze the sensitive flesh. Her breath is hot and damp and intoxicating.
"Don't stop," she whispers. "Don't you dare stop fucking her. I want to feel you move. I want to taste the sweat on your skin while you destroy her ass."
You don't stop. You can't stop. Your hips piston into Winter with renewed fury, and Mina's body presses against your back like a second skin. Her tits are small and firm against your shoulder blades, her nipples hard points that drag across your flesh every time you thrust. Her hands roam your chest—exploring, claiming, tracing the lines of your muscles while her mouth works your ear with obscene devotion.
"Look at me, Winter," Mina says, her voice muffled against your skin. "Look at me while he fucks you."
Winter's glassy eyes shift to Mina's face over your shoulder. Her expression is pure wreckage—vacant and hungry and utterly owned. A fresh string of drool slides from the corner of her mouth, running down her cheek toward the floor.
"You're both his now," Mina continues, her tongue tracing the tendon in your neck. "You're his anal whore. I'm his cunt. And we're never going back. Are we, Winter?"
"No—no—never going back—daddy's sluts—both of us—" Winter's voice is barely coherent, each word punched out by the force of your thrusts.
"That's right." Mina's hand slides down your stomach, fingers wrapping around the base of your cock where it's plunging into Winter's ass. She squeezes—not to stop you, just to feel the motion, to feel your shaft sliding through her grip and into Winter's clutching hole. "Both of us. Yours. Use us however you want."
From the corner, Minho makes a sound.
It's not quite human—a wet, broken sob that catches in his throat and dissolves into a whimper. He's still crumpled against the wall, still naked from the waist down, his cock still trapped in that cruel steel ring. The flesh has turned an alarming shade of purple-black, and his balls are so swollen they look ready to split. But his eyes are fixed on the scene before him—on you fucking Winter, on Mina draped across your back, on the two women who used to belong to him now utterly, completely owned by you.
"You see this?" you growl, not breaking rhythm. "You see what happens when you betray the people who love you? You get to watch. You get to sit in the corner with your useless cock locked up while I fuck both of your women. While they beg for more."
Minho's mouth opens. Closes. No words come out—just a thin, keening whine that makes Mina laugh against your ear.
"He's pathetic," she murmurs, and her tongue traces the edge of your jaw. "Forget him. Focus on me. Focus on her. We're what matters now."
Her hand slides up to cup your jaw, turning your face toward hers. She kisses you—deep and hungry and possessive—her tongue pushing past your lips, claiming your mouth while you claim Winter's ass. The dual sensation is overwhelming: the tight, wet grip of Winter's hole around your cock, the soft, demanding heat of Mina's mouth on yours, the sound of flesh slapping against flesh and the distant, broken sobbing of the man who used to be your best friend.
You feel yourself getting close. The pressure is building at the base of your spine, your balls drawing up tight, your rhythm starting to stutter.
"Gonna come," you grit out against Mina's lips.
"Do it." She bites your lower lip—hard enough to hurt, hard enough to make you gasp. "Fill her ass again. And then…" Her dark eyes glitter. "Then you're going to fill me."
You bury yourself to the hilt in Winter's ass and let go.
The first jet of cum blasts into her depths, and Winter shrieks—a sound that's equal parts ecstasy and desperation. Her asshole clamps down on you, milking your shaft, drawing every pulse of semen deeper into her bowels. The second jet follows, then the third, the fourth, your balls emptying completely into her ruined, gaping hole. When you pull out, a thick white flood follows—your seed gushing out of her, down her perineum, over her cunt, pooling on the floor beneath her.
Winter's body goes limp. Her legs slide off your shoulders and thump onto the floor. Her head lolls to the side. Her mouth hangs open, drool pooling beneath her cheek, and her eyes stare at nothing—blank and glassy and utterly, completely gone.
"Holy fuck," she breathes, and then she giggles. That high, unhinged sound that signals her brain has officially checked out. "Tee-hee… so full… daddy made me so full…"
But you're not done. You're still hard—still aching—and Mina is already pulling you toward the bed.
"My turn," she says, and her voice is pure command. "You promised."
She pushes you onto your back on the mattress, and you go willingly, your cum-slick cock standing at attention against your belly. Mina straddles you, her lean thighs bracketing your hips, her dark eyes boring into yours with an intensity that makes your breath catch.
"Watch this, Minho," she says, and she doesn't look at him—doesn't need to. She knows he's watching. "Watch a real man's cock disappear into the woman you'll never have again."
She sinks down onto you in one smooth, wet slide.
"Fuuuuck," Mina groans, her head falling back, her throat working as she adjusts to your size. Her cunt is still slick from your earlier loads, still stretched from the pounding you gave her, and the way she grips you is incredible—tight and hot and deliberately clenching. "That's—that's so much better than his—his worthless little dick could never—"
"Ride me," you growl, grabbing her hips. "Show me what you've got."
Mina's lips curl into a predatory smile. She plants her hands on your chest and starts to move.
Her rhythm is different from Winter's—controlled, deliberate, almost clinical in its precision. She rises until just the tip of your cock is inside her, then drops down hard, grinding her clit against your pubic bone at the bottom of every stroke. Her lean body undulates above you, muscles shifting beneath sweat-slicked skin, small tits bouncing with every movement. The wet sounds of your joining are obscene—schlick, schlick, schlick—and Mina's controlled breathing gradually dissolves into desperate, hungry moans.
"Fuck—fuck—you're so deep like this—"
From somewhere behind you, you hear movement. Winter. She's crawled across the floor—still dripping, still giggling—and positioned herself at the head of the bed. Her hands rest on your thighs, and then her mouth descends on your balls.
The sensation is so sudden, so intense, that you nearly buck Mina off. Winter's tongue is everywhere—lapping at your sac, tracing the seam between your testicles, sucking first one ball and then the other into her mouth. She moans around the flesh, the vibration traveling up through your shaft and into Mina's gripping cunt.
"Oh fuck," Mina gasps, her rhythm faltering. "She's—she's sucking your balls while I ride you—that's so fucking hot—"
You crane your neck to look down. Winter's face is buried between your thighs, her honey-brown hair splayed across your legs, her mouth working your balls with desperate, worshipful attention. Her eyes are closed, her expression one of pure bliss—as if sucking your testicles while another woman rides your cock is the greatest privilege she's ever been granted.
"Holy shit," you groan, your hands tightening on Mina's hips. "Both of you—fuck—"
"We're both yours," Mina pants, grinding down harder. "Both of us—your sluts—your whores—and we're going to make you come so hard—"
Winter's tongue traces a wet path from your balls to the base of your shaft, where Mina's pussy is gripping you. She licks the place where your bodies join—tasting the mingled fluids, your cum and Mina's juices and her own saliva—and moans like it's the most delicious thing she's ever tasted.
"Taste so good, daddy—you and Mina taste so good together—"
"Fuck," you choke out. "Fuck, I'm close—"
"Do it." Mina's rhythm picks up, her hips slamming down onto yours with bruising force. "Come inside me. Fill my cunt. Let her taste it when it drips out."
The combination is too much—Mina's tight, clenching cunt milking your shaft, Winter's tongue bathing your balls and the base of your cock, the knowledge that Minho is watching everything from his crumpled heap in the corner. Your orgasm hits you like a freight train.
The first pulse of cum blasts into Mina's depths, and she cries out—a sharp, triumphant sound. Her cunt clamps down on you, milking every spurt, drawing your seed deeper into her womb. The second pulse floods her channel, mixing with the remnants of your earlier loads. The third, fourth, fifth jets seem to go on forever, your balls emptying completely into her clutching, spasming pussy.
When you finally stop coming, Mina collapses forward onto your chest. Her breathing is ragged. Her heart pounds against your ribs. Her cunt is still fluttering around your softening cock, and you can feel your cum leaking out around the seal of your flesh, dripping down onto your balls where Winter's tongue is eagerly lapping it up.
"Mmm," Winter moans, her mouth still pressed against your sac. "Daddy's cum… tastes so good…"
You lie there for a long moment, all three of you panting, the room spinning with the aftermath of shared release. Mina's weight on your chest is warm and comforting. Winter's tongue on your balls is gentle now, almost reverent. And somewhere in the corner, Minho's sobs have faded to a low, continuous whimper.
But it's not over.
Winter stirs first. She pulls back from your balls, her face slick with saliva and cum, and looks up at you with those glassy, vacant eyes. "Daddy… I'm so full… my ass is so full of your cum…"
"Show me," you say.
She crawls backward off the bed, positioning herself on the floor at the foot of the mattress. Her body is a wreck—bruises blooming on her pale skin, handprints on her ass, bite marks on her nipples, her holes gaping and leaking and utterly ruined. But there's something almost ceremonial in the way she moves, something deliberate in the way she kneels and faces Minho.
"Watch," she says, and her voice is steady for the first time all night. "Watch what happens to girls who betray daddy."
She bends forward. Her forehead presses to the floor. Her hands reach back and grip her ass cheeks, pulling them apart with deliberate, obscene slowness. Her cunt is a swollen, leaking mess. But her asshole—her asshole is a masterpiece of ruin. The pink pucker is stretched into a dark, gaping hole, the walls glistening with your cum, the flesh twitching and pulsing as her body tries to clench around nothing.
"Look at it," Winter breathes, and her voice is almost reverent. "Look at what daddy did to my ass. Look at all his cum inside me."
She bears down.
The sound that follows is wet and obscene—a thick, gurgling splurt that echoes in the quiet room. A torrent of white fluid gushes from her gaped hole, propelled by the pressure of her straining muscles. It sprays across the floor in an arc—your cum mixed with her ass juices, a pearlescent flood that splatters against the hardwood with audible force.
And directly into Minho's face.
He sputters, trying to turn away, but there's nowhere to go. The fluid hits his cheeks, his mouth, his eyes—thick and warm and unmistakably the product of your dominance. He gags, his hands flying to his face, but the damage is done. Winter's anal creampie is dripping down his chin, matting his hair, pooling in the hollow of his throat.
"Oops," Winter says, and her giggle is pure madness. "Tee-hee… missed me, Minho? Missed having your cock inside me? This is what you get instead. Daddy's cum. From my ass."
Mina slides off your lap, her cunt leaving a wet trail on your thigh. She walks over to Minho's sputtering, gagging form and crouches beside him, her expression one of cold, clinical satisfaction.
"Lick it up," she commands.
Minho stares at her, his eyes wide and red-rimmed above the mess on his face. "What?"
"You heard me." Mina grabs a handful of his hair and yanks his head back. "Lick. It. Up. You wanted to taste her, didn't you? You wanted to know what it felt like to have her body all to yourself? Well, now you get to taste what happens when a real man claims her. Lick up his cum. Eat it."
"I—I can't—"
Mina slaps him. Hard. The crack of her palm against his cheek is sharp and brutal, and Minho's head snaps to the side. The steel ring rattles against his trapped cock, and he whimpers.
"You can," Mina says, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "And you will. Or I'll make it so much worse for you."
Minho's tongue emerges—tentative, trembling—and drags across his upper lip. The cum and ass juices smear across his taste buds, and he gags, his whole body convulsing. But he doesn't stop. He can't stop. Mina's grip on his hair keeps him in place, and her dark eyes burn with vindictive satisfaction as his tongue works across his face, lapping up every drop of your seed.
"That's it," she coos, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "Clean it up. Clean it all up. Every drop. That's what you're good for now, Minho. Eating cum. Watching real men fuck your women. Being a pathetic little cuck."
Winter watches this with vacant, glassy eyes, still holding her ass cheeks apart. A fresh dribble of cum slides out of her hole and splatters onto the floor. "Tee-hee… more for you, Minho… want more?"
You feel yourself stirring again—your cock twitching against your thigh, still slick with Mina's juices and your own cum. The sight of Minho on his knees, lapping your seed off his own face while Winter giggles and Mina commands him, is so obscenely arousing that you can't help yourself.
"Mina," you say. "Come here."
She looks up from Minho, her expression shifting from cruel satisfaction to hungry anticipation. "Yes?"
"Ride me. Again."
Mina's smile is sharp and predatory. She releases Minho's hair—he collapses forward, his face hitting the floor with a thud—and strides back to the bed. Her lean body glistens with sweat, her small tits bouncing with every step, her cum-leaking cunt leaving a trail on her inner thighs.
She climbs onto the bed and positions herself over you, her dark eyes locked on yours. But this time, she turns around. Reverse cowgirl. Her back faces you, her round, muscular ass hovering above your cock, her dark pucker and slick cunt both visible and available.
"I want you to watch," she says, and her voice is rough with desire. "Watch my ass bounce on your cock. Watch your cum leak out of me while I ride you."
She sinks down onto your shaft in one smooth motion, and the view is stunning—her ass cheeks spread around you, your cock disappearing into her wet, gripping cunt, the white evidence of your earlier loads already starting to leak out around the seal of your flesh.
"Fuuuck," she groans, her head falling forward. "You're so deep like this—so fucking deep—"
Winter crawls toward the bed, her eyes fixed on the place where your bodies join. Her tongue darts out, wetting her cracked lips. "Daddy… can I… can I clean you both while she rides?"
"Do it," you grunt, your hands gripping Mina's hips.
Winter's tongue descends on your balls again, but this time she doesn't stop there. She licks the base of your shaft where Mina's cunt grips you. She traces the seam of Mina's inner thigh. She buries her face between Mina's ass cheeks and laps at the place where your cock is sawing in and out—tasting both of you, worshiping both of you, her moans vibrating through your flesh.
"Oh god," Mina gasps, her rhythm faltering. "Her tongue—she's—fuck—"
"Ride harder," you command, thrusting up into her. "Let her clean you. Let her taste us both."
Mina's hips slam down onto yours with renewed vigor, her ass bouncing, her cunt clenching, her moans dissolving into desperate, incoherent pleas. Winter's tongue never stops—licking, lapping, bathing every inch of your joined flesh with her saliva. The wet sounds are obscene—schlick, squelch, slurp—and the circle of sex continues, an endless loop of fucking and licking and cumming and tasting.
In the corner, Minho's tongue is still dragging across the floor, lapping up the puddle of cum that Winter sprayed on him. His eyes are empty. His trapped cock is purple-black. His balls are so swollen they look ready to rupture. He's a broken, pathetic ruin of a man—and no one is paying attention to him anymore.
"Gonna come," you growl, your hips bucking up into Mina. "Gonna fill this cunt again."
"Do it—fill me—fill me up—" Mina's voice is high and desperate, her controlled composure completely shattered. "Winter—catch it—catch what leaks out—"
You bury yourself to the hilt and explode.
The first pulse of cum fires into Mina's depths, and she screams—a raw, guttural sound that tears out of her throat. Her cunt clamps down on you, milking your shaft, drawing every drop of your seed into her womb. But there's too much—you've cum so many times tonight that your load is thinner, more voluminous—and it leaks out around your shaft almost immediately, a thick white flood that drips onto Winter's waiting tongue.
"Mmnnn—" Winter moans, her mouth pressed against the base of your cock. "Thank you, daddy—thank you for feeding your pet—"
She laps and swallows and laps again, her throat working to consume every drop that escapes Mina's flooded cunt. Mina is still coming—still pulsing around you—her orgasm stretching on and on as your cum fills her to overflowing. She collapses forward onto her hands, her back arched, her ass still in the air, and rides the waves of her release with breathless, sobbing moans.
When you finally go soft inside her, Mina slowly lifts off your cock. A flood of white follows—gushing out of her gaped cunt, splattering onto Winter's face and chest and tongue. Winter doesn't flinch. She just opens her mouth wider, catching as much as she can, her expression one of pure, grateful ecstasy.
"Tee-hee… so much… daddy's cum everywhere…"
Mina slides off the bed and kneels beside Winter. Her dark eyes meet yours over the ruin of both their bodies. She reaches out and cups Winter's chin, tilting her face up, examining the mess on her cheeks and lips with something almost like affection.
"Look at us," Mina murmurs, her voice soft and satisfied. "We're both covered in his cum. We're both ruined. We're both his."
"Yes," Winter breathes, leaning into Mina's touch. "We're daddy's girls. Both of us."
Mina leans forward and kisses her.
It's not aggressive or dominant—it's slow and deliberate, Mina's tongue tracing Winter's lower lip, tasting your cum on her skin. Winter moans into the kiss, her hands coming up to cup Mina's face, her fingers threading through her dark hair. They kiss like lovers—tender and intimate and utterly, completely owned by you.
"Look at them," you say, turning your head toward Minho's crumpled form. "Look at what you lost. Two women who would do anything for each other. Two women who belong to me now. You could have had this. You could have been part of this. But you chose to betray me. And now…"
You gesture at his ruined, crying, cum-covered form.
"Now you get to watch."
Minho's response is a thin, keening whimper that fades into the background as Mina and Winter break their kiss and turn to you. Their faces are flushed, their bodies slick with sweat and cum, their eyes burning with hunger and devotion and desperate, aching need.
"More," Winter whispers, crawling toward you on all fours. "Please, daddy. More. We're not done. We're never done."
"Daddy," Mina breathes, pressing close to your side, her fingers tracing the lines of your chest. "We're yours. Both of us. Forever. So please…"
She leans up and captures your mouth in a slow, deep kiss.
"Please don't stop."
And on the floor, Minho watches with empty, broken eyes as the two women he once claimed now worship at the altar of another man's pleasure—their mouths hungry, their bodies willing, their souls completely and utterly owned.
The night stretches on. The circle of sex continues. And somewhere in the darkness, the sound of a steel ring rattling against a ruined cock is the only evidence that Minho ever existed at all.
You then reach into the drawer of your nightstand. The one where you used to keep Winter's birthday cards and the little notes she'd leave on your pillow—and pull out the collar.
It's black leather, thick and sturdy, with silver studs running its length and a heavy D-ring at the front. The leash is matching leather, braided, cold in your palm. You bought it three days after you discovered the texts. You didn't know why at the time. You just saw it in a shop window and felt something click into place.
Now you know.
"Mina," you say, and she lifts her head from your chest, her dark eyes still glazed with pleasure. "Put this on him."
She sees the collar and her lips curl. That sharp, predatory smile that's become so familiar tonight. "Where did you get that?"
"Doesn't matter." You press it into her palm. "He's not a man anymore. He's a pet. Treat him like one."
Mina slides off the bed. Her lean body is still slick with sweat and cum, her inner thighs glistening, her cunt still leaking the evidence of your last load. She walks toward Minho with the collar swinging from her fingers, and the sound of her bare feet on the hardwood is the only noise in the room besides Minho's ragged breathing.
"Lift your head," she commands.
Minho doesn't move. He's still crumpled against the wall, his face still wet with Winter's anal creampie, his trapped cock still that terrifying shade of purple-black. His eyes are empty—two black holes in a face that used to belong to your best friend.
Winter crawls off the bed and joins Mina. She's still in that vacant, giggling headspace, but something cruel flickers in her expression as she looks down at the man she once spread her legs for.
"He's not listening, Mina," Winter says, her voice sing-song. "Bad dog. Bad, stupid dog."
Mina grabs Minho's hair and yanks his head back. His throat is exposed, pale and vulnerable, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows. She wraps the collar around his neck and pulls it tight—tighter than necessary, tight enough that the leather bites into his skin and makes him wheeze.
"There," she says, buckling it with practiced efficiency. "Now you look like what you are."
She clips the leash to the D-ring and gives it a sharp tug. Minho's head jerks forward, and he has to scramble onto his hands and knees to keep from choking.
"Look at this," Winter giggles, clapping her hands. "Minho on a leash. Minho the puppy. Not a man anymore. Just a dumb little dog."
"He was never a man," Mina says, and she spits on him.
The glob of saliva lands on his cheek, mixing with the drying cum, and Minho flinches but doesn't wipe it away. He can't. His hands are planted on the floor, his body still curled around his tortured cock, and the leash keeps his head pulled taut.
You stand up from the bed. Your legs are a little unsteady—you've cum more times tonight than you can count—but your cock is stirring again, twitching against your thigh as you walk toward the pathetic tableau before you.
"Minho," you say, and he doesn't look at you. Can't. Won't. "Look at me."
Mina yanks the leash. His head snaps up.
His eyes meet yours, and you see it—the moment the last flicker of the old Minho dies. The man who stood beside you at your father's funeral. The man who helped you move into this apartment. The man who laughed with you, drank with you, called you brother.
Gone.
What's left is a shell. A broken, crying, cum-covered thing on a leash.
"From now on," you say, crouching down to his level, "the old Minho is dead. You're not my best friend anymore. You're not a man anymore. You're a pet. Your sole purpose—your only fucking purpose—is to watch me fuck these two women. Watch me fill them with cum. Watch them worship my cock. And clean up whatever leaks out. Understand?"
Minho's mouth opens. A thin, keening whine escapes—the sound of an animal that's been beaten past the point of fight.
"I said, understand?"
"Y-yes," he chokes out. "Yes—I understand—"
"Yes, what?"
He stares at you, lost, and Winter cackles.
"He doesn't know!" she sings, clapping again. "Stupid dog doesn't know how to address his master!"
Mina crouches beside him, her face inches from his. "Say 'yes, master.' Say it. Or I'll make the ring tighter."
Minho's eyes go wide with terror. The steel ring is already crushing his cock into purple ruin; the thought of it getting tighter—of his flesh finally giving way—makes his whole body tremble.
"Yes, master," he whispers. "Yes, I understand, master."
"Good boy." You pat his head like you'd pat a dog. The gesture is almost gentle. Almost. "Now. You see all this cum on the floor? All the leaks from Mina's cunt and Winter's ass?"
The hardwood is a disaster. Puddles of pearlescent white, smeared handprints, the wet trail of Winter's crawl. Your seed is everywhere—pooling in the gaps between floorboards, glistening under the lamplight.
"Clean it up. All of it. Lick the floor clean."
Mina doesn't wait for him to comply. She tugs the leash—hard—and Minho's face smacks against the floorboards with a wet, meaty thwack. His mouth lands directly in a puddle of Winter's anal creampie, and the sound he makes is somewhere between a gag and a sob.
"Lick," Mina commands, pressing her foot against the back of his head. "Every drop. If I can see even a speck of cum when you're done, I'll stomp your balls again."
Winter drops to her haunches beside him, her ruined cunt inches from his face. She reaches down and scoops a glob of cum off the floor with two fingers, then shoves them into Minho's mouth.
"Taste it," she breathes, her glassy eyes fixed on his face. "That's daddy's cum from my ass. You used to fuck my ass, remember? You begged me for it. And now you're eating his cum out of it off the floor. Isn't that funny?"
Minho's tongue works around her fingers, lapping up the bitter salt of your seed. Tears stream down his cheeks. His throat convulses with the effort of not vomiting. But he doesn't stop. He sucks Winter's fingers clean, then presses his tongue to the floorboards and begins to lick.
Schlurp. Schlurp. Schlurp.
The sound is wet and obscene—his tongue dragging across the wood, lapping up the cooling pools of cum. Mina keeps the leash taut, guiding his head from puddle to puddle like she's walking a dog through a park. Winter skips ahead, pointing out spots he missed, giggling every time his tongue hits a particularly thick glob.
"Over here—you missed this one—lick it up, puppy—"
From the bed, you watch. And the sight is so perfectly, utterly complete that you feel something loosen in your chest. The rage that's been burning since you first read those texts—the jealousy, the betrayal, the sick, twisting hurt—it's all bleeding out of you, replaced by something cold and satisfied and permanent.
"Mina. Winter." Your voice cuts through the sounds of Minho's tongue on the floor. "Come here."
They come immediately—no hesitation, no resistance. Mina drops the leash and walks to you with that predatory sway. Winter crawls on all fours, her ass wagging in the air, her tongue lolling out. Both of them are covered in you—your cum on their faces, their chests, their thighs. Both of them are looking at you with the same expression: hunger and devotion and desperate, aching need.
"On the bed," you say. "Both of you."
They climb onto the mattress—Mina on your left, Winter on your right. Their bodies press against you, warm and slick and willing. Mina's hand finds your cock, already half-hard again, and strokes it with slow, deliberate pressure. Winter's mouth latches onto your nipple, her tongue tracing circles, her moans vibrating through your chest.
"What about him?" Mina murmurs, nodding toward Minho, still on the floor, still licking.
"Tie him outside the door," you say. "He can listen. He doesn't get to watch anymore. He's earned listening, not watching."
Mina grins. She slides off the bed, grabs the leash, and drags Minho across the floor by his neck. His body bumps over the threshold, his trapped cock leaving a wet smear on the wood, and then he's outside—the bedroom door closing with a soft click.
You hear the leash being tied to something. The doorknob, maybe. Then Mina's footsteps, padding back to the bed.
"There," she breathes, sliding in beside you. "Now it's just us."
Winter lifts her head from your chest, her glassy eyes meeting yours. "Just us, daddy. Just your girls. Forever."
You look at them—these two women who, hours ago, were strangers to each other. Mina the avenger, cold and sharp and hungry for control. Winter the betrayer, broken and remade into something desperate and devoted. Both of them ruined. Both of them yours.
"Forever," you repeat, and the word settles into your bones like a promise.
Your hand tangles in Winter's hair. Your other hand finds the curve of Mina's hip. You pull them both closer—their bodies pressing against you from both sides, their heat surrounding you, their breath mingling on your skin.
And on the other side of the door, the faint rattle of a leash and the wet, broken sobbing of a man who used to exist is the only sound that remains of Minho.
counts: ~6120 words
tags: smut, fluff, marriage, date weekend, public tease
synopsis: Two years together, with my wife, Yooyeon. Marriage with a cozy apartment, and no rush for kids. That night I spoiled her with takeout, candles, and slow, deep love, for her birthday.
I sat in the car with the engine off, windows cracked just enough to let in the late afternoon air. The parking lot was starting to empty out, cars pulling away one by one as the office people finished their Friday.
My phone showed 4:58. I kept glancing at the main door of the building, waiting for her.
Yooyeon walked out at exactly 5:02. Same black blazer she always wore on Fridays, white blouse underneath, pencil skirt that hugged her hips the way I still couldn’t get tired of. Her hair was up in a loose bun, a few strands falling around her face.
She looked tired, really tired, but even on her worst days she still looked gorgeous to me. Always has.
She spotted our car right away. I saw the tiny lift at the corner of her mouth, then she walked over
I pushed the passenger door open before she reached it.
“Hey, beautiful,” I said.
She slid in, dropped her bag on the floor, leaned over and kissed me quick—soft lips, a little sticky from whatever lip balm she’d put on that morning.
“Hey yourself,” she pulled the seatbelt across her chest and let her head fall back against the headrest. “God, I’m dead.”
“Rough one?”
“Client changed the whole campaign direction at 3:30. Again. I wanted to scream.” She rubbed her temples with two fingers. “But I didn’t. I smiled and said ‘of course, we can pivot.’ I deserve a medal.”
“You deserve dinner and a drink. Maybe two.”
She turned her head to look at me. “You’re in a good mood.”
“It’s Friday. And…” I let it hang for a second, grinning. “It’s a special day.”
Yooyeon closed her eyes and let out a small laugh through her nose. “Don’t start. You know I don’t do birthdays anymore.”
“Yeah, yeah. You’ve been saying that since you turned 24. Doesn’t mean I have to listen.”
She opened one eye and gave me that look—the one that says she’s pretending to be annoyed but isn’t really. “You’re impossible.”
“Guilty.”
I started the car. The AC kicked on, cool air hitting us both. She sighed like it was the best feeling in the world.
“So,” I said as I pulled out of the parking space, “how about you guess where I’m taking you to eat?”
She turned in her seat a little, facing me more. “Is this a trick question?”
“Maybe.”
“Okay… fine.” She tapped her chin like she was thinking hard. “Not barbecue. We did that last week. Not sushi either—you always complain your stomach hurts after.”
“True.”
“Not pasta. Too heavy for how tired I am.” She paused, studying my face. “You’re smiling too much. That means it’s something I like.”
“Keep going.”
“Is it that Italian place with the truffle pasta? The one near the river?”
“Nope.”
“Damn.” She bit her bottom lip, thinking. “Okay… the steakhouse? But you said not heavy.”
“I didn’t say not heavy. You did.”
She laughed softly. “You’re evil. Just tell me.”
“Nah. One more guess.”
She groaned, dramatic. “Fine. Is it… the rooftop Korean place? The one with the spicy tteokbokki and the soju flight?”
I raised an eyebrow. “You really want spicy after a day like today?”
“I want comfort food. And I want to drink. And I want to sit somewhere pretty and not think about work for three hours.”
I reached over and squeezed her thigh just above the knee—light, familiar. “Good guess. But not quite.”
She pouted. “You’re killing me.”
“Alright, I’ll give you a hint. It’s not fancy. It’s not crowded. And you can wear whatever you want tomorrow morning when we stay in bed late.”
Her eyes narrowed. “We’re not going out to eat?”
“We are. Just… not right now.”
She sat up straighter. “What did you do?”
“You’ll see.”
She stared at me for a long second, then leaned back again, smiling small. “You’re lucky I love surprises from you.”
“I know.”
We drove in comfortable quiet for a while. She played with the radio, skipping songs until she landed on some slow R&B she likes. Her hand rested on my thigh the whole time, thumb moving in lazy circles. That small touch still does things to me after two years.
Instead of heading toward the usual restaurants, I took the turn toward our neighborhood. She noticed immediately.
“Wait… are we going home first?”
“Sort of.”
She laughed. “You’re so suspicious.”
When I pulled into our apartment building’s underground parking, she gave me a look.
“Okay, now I’m really curious.”
I parked, killed the engine, and turned to her. “Come up with me. Five minutes. Then we leave again. Promise.”
She studied my face like she was trying to read my mind. “You’re nervous.”
“A little.”
That made her soften. “Why?”
“Because I love you. And I want tonight to be good.”
She leaned over and kissed me again—this time slower, deeper. Her hand slid up to the back of my neck. When she pulled back her eyes were warm.
“You always make it good,” she said quietly.
We got out. Took the elevator up to the fourth floor. The hallway smelled like someone was cooking kimchi jjigae. Familiar. Home.
I unlocked the door and let her step in first.
The lights were dim. I’d left only the small lamp in the living room on.
The dining table was pushed against the wall. In the middle of the room I’d spread out the thick picnic blanket we usually take to the park. Pillows from the couch were arranged around it.
Two candles flickered on the coffee table—nothing fancy, just the vanilla ones she likes.
There were takeout boxes from her favorite hole-in-the-wall place: galbi jjim, haemul pajeon, the spicy cucumber salad she always steals from my plate, and a bottle of soju in an ice bucket.
Yooyeon stopped in the doorway.
“Oh my god,” she whispered.
“Happy birthday, baby.”
She turned to me, eyes shiny. “You… you did all this?”
“Wanted to give you the night you actually want. No crowds. No dressing up. Just us. Good food. Drinks. And later…” I stepped closer, lowered my voice. “I plan to take my time with you.”
Her cheeks went pink. She looked back at the setup, then at me again.
“You remembered the haemul pajeon place.”
“Of course I did. You talk about it every time we pass by.”
She laughed, soft and surprised. “I didn’t think you were listening that hard.”
“I always listen to you.”
She walked over to the blanket, kicked off her heels, and sat down cross-legged. Pat the spot next to her.
“Come here.”
I joined her. She opened one of the boxes, inhaled deep.
“Smells so good.”
I twisted the soju cap off, poured us both a shot in the little green glasses.
She raised hers. “To… not caring about birthdays. But still getting spoiled anyway.”
I clinked my glass to hers. “To that.”
We drank. Sharp, cold, burns just right.
She leaned against my shoulder, picking at the galbi with her chopsticks.
“This is perfect,” she said quietly. “I was so tired. I just wanted to come home and crash. But this… this is better.”
“Good.”
We ate slow. Talked about stupid stuff—her annoying coworker, the new drama we’re watching, how the neighbor’s dog keeps barking at 2 a.m. Normal life stuff. But every now and then she’d look at me like she was seeing me for the first time.
After the second shot she started getting touchy. Hand on my arm. Fingers brushing my neck. Leaning in closer.
“You know,” she said, voice dropping, “I was thinking in the car… two years married. And you still look at me like you can’t believe I’m yours.”
“Because I can’t.”
She set her glass down. Crawled over until she was straddling my lap, knees on either side of me. Her skirt rode up her thighs.
“I’m yours,” she whispered. “Always have been.”
I slid my hands up her legs, under the skirt, gripping her hips. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
She kissed me hard this time. Open mouth, tongue sliding against mine. Her fingers went into my hair, tugging just enough to make me groan.
I pulled back for a second. “Food’s gonna get cold.”
“I don’t care,” she breathed. “I want you first.”
She rocked her hips once, slow, deliberate. I was already hard under her.
“Fuck, Yooyeon…”
She smiled against my mouth. “Say it again.”
“Fuck, baby…”
She reached down between us, palmed me through my jeans. “Take these off.”
We fumbled like teenagers—buttons, zippers, her skirt pushed up around her waist. She was wearing the black lace panties I like. The ones with the little bow. I groaned when I saw them.
“You wore these to work?”
“Maybe,” she teased. “Maybe I was hoping you’d rip them off later.”
I hooked my fingers in the sides and pulled. She lifted her hips to help. The lace slid down her legs. I tossed them somewhere behind me.
She pushed me back so I was lying on the blanket. Climbed on top again. Her blouse was half unbuttoned now—bra showing, chest rising and falling fast.
She leaned down, lips next to my ear. “I want you inside me. Right now. No waiting.”
I flipped us over so she was on her back. Spread her thighs with my knees. She was already wet—slick and hot when I ran my fingers through her folds.
“Jesus,” I muttered.
“Please,” she said, voice shaking a little. “Don’t tease.”
I lined up, pushed in slow at first. She gasped, nails digging into my shoulders. Then deeper. All the way.
“Fuck,” she breathed. “Yes…”
I started moving—slow, deep thrusts. Her legs wrapped around my waist, heels digging into my lower back, pulling me harder.
“Harder,” she whispered. “Please, harder.”
I gave it to her. Faster. The sound of skin on skin filled the room. She moaned loud—no neighbors close enough to care. Her hands grabbed my ass, urging me on.
“Like that?” I asked, voice rough.
“Yes—god, yes—just like that—”
She clenched around me, tight and hot. I felt her start to shake.
“I’m close,” she panted. “Don’t stop—don’t you dare stop—”
I angled my hips, hitting the spot she loves. She cried out, back arching.
“Baby—I’m gonna—”
“Come for me,” I growled. “Let me feel it.”
She shattered. Whole body trembling, thighs squeezing me tight, wet pulsing around my cock. She moaned my name—loud, broken.
I fucked her through it, chasing my own. She grabbed my face, kissed me messy.
“Come inside me,” she whispered. “Fill me up.”
That did it. I groaned hard, buried deep, and came. Pulse after pulse, spilling into her. She whimpered at the feeling, legs still locked around me.
We stayed like that for a minute—sweaty, breathing hard, still connected.
She kissed my jaw. “Best birthday ever.”
Morning light slipped through the half-closed blinds, thin stripes across the bed. I woke up slow, the way you do when you’ve slept hard after a long night. My body felt heavy in the good way—muscles loose, a little sore from everything we’d done on the living room floor, then again in the shower before we finally crashed around 2 a.m.
Yooyeon was already awake. I could tell because her hand was under the sheet, fingers tracing lazy circles on my stomach, inching lower every few seconds. Her breathing was warm against my neck. She smelled like last night’s soju, vanilla candles, and sex. My favorite combination.
I kept my eyes closed, pretending I was still out. Let her play.
She shifted closer, thigh sliding over mine. Her bare breasts pressed against my side. Soft. Warm. Nipples already hard, brushing my skin every time she moved.
“You’re awake,” she whispered, lips grazing my earlobe. “I can tell.”
I cracked one eye open. She was propped on her elbow, hair a mess, cheeks still flushed from sleep and leftover alcohol. Eyes bright, a little glassy. Still tipsy, definitely.
“Morning,” I mumbled.
“Morning, birthday boy’s wife.” She smiled slow, naughty. “I’m still buzzed. And horny.”
I laughed under my breath. “You were horny at 3 a.m. too.”
“Yeah, but now it’s daylight. Different rules.”
Her hand finally reached my cock. It was already half-hard just from her touching my stomach. She wrapped her fingers around it, gave a slow stroke from base to tip. I hissed through my teeth.
“Fuck, Yooyeon…”
“Shh.” She kissed my jaw, then my throat. “Let me wake you up properly.”
She disappeared under the sheet before I could say anything else. I felt her hair brush my thighs, then her hot mouth closed over the head. No teasing. Just wet heat, tongue swirling, taking me deeper in one smooth slide.
I groaned loud, hand flying to her head. Not pushing—just holding. Her lips stretched around me, cheeks hollowing as she sucked. She moaned around my cock, the vibration shooting straight up my spine.
“Goddamn, baby…”
She popped off for a second, just long enough to look up at me with those dark, needy eyes. “Tastes like us,” she said, voice thick. Then she dove back down, taking me all the way until her nose pressed against my stomach.
I cursed under my breath. She was good at this—always had been—but mornings like this, when she was still loose from drinking and didn’t care about being quiet or neat, she was fucking lethal. Spit slicked down my shaft, her hand pumping what her mouth couldn’t reach. She bobbed fast, sloppy, greedy. Little whimpers coming from her throat every time she gagged herself on me.
I felt my balls tighten way too quick.
“Slow down or I’m gonna—”
She pulled off with a wet pop, grinning like the devil. “Not yet. I want to ride you first.”
She climbed on top before I could catch my breath. Straddled my hips, knees digging into the mattress. Her pussy was already soaked—I could see it glistening when she spread herself with two fingers, rubbing the head of my cock through her folds.
“Fuck, look at you,” I muttered. “So wet.”
“Been thinking about this since I woke up.” She lined me up, sank down just the tip. We both groaned. “Wanted to feel you stretch me again.”
She didn’t ease down slow. She dropped her hips hard, taking every inch in one go. Her head fell back, mouth open in a silent cry. I grabbed her ass with both hands, squeezing.
“Shit—tight,” I gritted out.
She started moving right away. No warm-up. Just rocking her hips in that perfect circle she does, the one that makes me lose my mind. Her hands planted on my chest for balance, nails digging in. Breasts bouncing with every roll.
“Like this?” she panted, grinding down deep, clit rubbing against my pelvis.
“Yeah—just like that. Fuck, you’re so good at this.”
She smiled, wicked. “I know.”
She picked up speed. Hips snapping, ass slapping against my thighs. Wet sounds filled the room—her pussy sucking me in every time she lifted, then slamming back down. I thrust up to meet her, hard, matching her rhythm.
“Harder,” she begged. “Fuck me harder.”
I gripped her waist, took control for a minute—lifting her just enough to slam her back down. She cried out, loud enough the neighbors probably heard.
“Yes—yes—right there—”
Her thighs started shaking. I could feel her getting tighter, wetter. She leaned forward, changed the angle so I hit that spot inside her over and over.
“Oh god—I’m close already,” she whimpered. “Touch me—please—”
I slid one hand between us, thumb finding her clit. Rubbed fast circles the way she likes. She jerked, whole body tensing.
“Gonna come—gonna come on your cock—”
“Do it,” I growled. “Come all over me, baby.”
She shattered. Back arching, mouth open in a broken moan. Pussy clenching so hard I almost lost it right there. She kept riding through it, grinding down, milking every pulse.
When she finally stopped trembling, she collapsed on my chest, breathing ragged. But she didn’t stop moving—just slower rolls now, keeping me buried deep.
“Your turn,” she whispered against my lips.
I flipped us in one move. She laughed, surprised, legs wrapping around my waist. I thrust hard—deep, punishing strokes. She clawed my back, moaning into my mouth.
“Come inside me,” she said, voice wrecked. “Want to feel it again.”
That was all it took. I buried myself as deep as I could, groaned loud, and came hard. Pulse after pulse, filling her up. She whimpered at the feeling, thighs squeezing me tight.
We stayed locked together for a minute, catching our breath. She kissed my shoulder, my neck, my jaw.
“Best wake-up call ever,” I muttered.
She giggled. “You’re welcome.”
I rolled off her carefully. She stretched like a cat, arms above her head, looking satisfied and still a little drunk.
“I’m starving now,” she said.
“Same.”
She sat up, sheet falling to her waist. “Shower first. Then mall. I want to walk around, eat junk food, maybe buy something pretty for tonight.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Tonight?”
“Yeah.” She leaned over, kissed me quick. “You spoiled me last night. Now I want to wear something new… and let you take it off later.”
My cock twitched at the thought, even though we’d just finished.
“You’re gonna kill me,” I said.
“Good way to go.” She slid out of bed, naked, ass swaying as she walked toward the bathroom. “Come on. Shower. Then we’re going to the mall. I’m craving churros and boba. And maybe some new lingerie if you’re lucky.”
I watched her disappear through the door, heard the water turn on.
I lay there for a second, staring at the ceiling, grinning like an idiot.
Two years married, and she still made me feel like the luckiest bastard alive.
I got up, followed her into the steam.
She was already under the spray, head tipped back, letting water run down her body. I stepped in behind her, arms around her waist.
“Happy Saturday,” I said against her wet shoulder.
She turned in my arms, kissed me slow and deep.
“Happy Saturday, husband.”
We washed each other slow—hands everywhere, not rushing. Just touching. Kissing. Laughing when soap got in our eyes.
After, we dressed casual—her in tiny denim shorts and a cropped tee that showed a strip of stomach, me in jeans and a plain black shirt. She put on light makeup, left her hair down and wavy from the night before.
We walked out hand in hand.
The mall was already busy—weekend crowd, families, couples, teenagers everywhere. Air smelled like popcorn and perfume samples.
Yooyeon pulled me toward the food court first.
“Churros. Now.”
I laughed. “Bossy.”
“You love it.”
We got a big box—extra chocolate sauce. Sat on a bench, her legs over mine, feeding each other bites. She licked sugar off her thumb, eyes locked on me the whole time.
“Stop looking at me like that,” I said. “We’re in public.”
“Can’t help it. You’re cute when you’re trying not to get hard in the middle of the mall.”
I groaned. “Evil woman.”
She grinned, took another bite. “After this, lingerie store. Then maybe that bookstore you like. Then home. So you can see what I pick out.”
I leaned in, kissed the corner of her mouth where chocolate lingered.
“Deal.”
She rested her head on my shoulder, watching people walk by.
“I love days like this,” she said quietly. “Just us. No plans. No pressure.”
“Me too.”
She squeezed my hand. “Thank you for last night. Really.”
“Anytime. Every time.”
She looked up at me, eyes soft. “Love you.”
“Love you more.”
We finished the last bite of churro and wiped our hands on napkins.
Yooyeon licked a tiny smear of chocolate off her finger, eyes flicking to mine like she knew exactly what that did to me.
“Come on,” she said, hopping off the bench and grabbing my hand. “Ice cream. Brain freeze will cool me down after that churro sugar rush.”
I let her pull me toward the food court’s ice cream stall—the one with the soft-serve machines and the long line of kids and couples. She bounced a little as we walked, still in that cropped tee and tiny denim shorts that showed off her legs.
The line moved fast. When we got to the front, she leaned over the counter, reading the menu board like it was the most important decision of the day.
“Two cones,” she told the girl behind the counter. “One matcha with strawberry swirl, one chocolate with cookie bits. And extra napkins, please. We’re messy.”
The girl nodded, already scooping. Yooyeon turned back to me, grinning.
“Matcha’s for me. Chocolate cookie for you. You always steal bites of mine anyway, so fair trade.”
I wrapped my arm around her waist from behind, chin resting on her shoulder. “You know me too well.”
She leaned back into me, ass pressing just enough against my front to make me aware of it. “Mmm. I do.”
Our order came. She handed me the chocolate one and took a big lick of hers right away—green and pink swirl melting already in the mall AC. She moaned a little, dramatic.
“So good. Try.”
She held it up to my mouth. I took a bite. She watched my lips the whole time, then licked her own like she was tasting it secondhand.
We wandered while we ate, away from the food court toward the quieter end of the mall where the boutiques were. She kept stealing licks from my cone too, even though she had her own. By the time we were halfway through, her lips were sticky and her tongue was bright pink from the strawberry.
“Messy girl,” I teased, wiping a drop from her chin with my thumb.
She caught my thumb before I could pull it back, sucked it clean slow—eyes locked on mine.
“Oops,” she said, voice low. “Better?”
I felt my dick twitch in my jeans. “You’re playing dangerous games in public.”
She just smiled, innocent as hell, and kept walking.
We passed a few clothing stores, but she slowed when we got to the lingerie section— that one shop with the black and pink sign, windows full of lace and satin. She stopped right in front, tilting her head.
“This one,” she decided. “I’ve never gone in here with you before.”
I raised an eyebrow. “You sure? It’s kinda… exposed.”
“That’s the point.” She tugged my hand. “Come on. Help me pick.”
Inside smelled like vanilla and expensive perfume. Soft lighting, mirrors everywhere, music low and slow. A salesgirl in her twenties smiled at us from behind the counter but didn’t hover—good instinct.
Yooyeon went straight to the racks like she knew what she wanted. She pulled out a black lace set first—bra with thin straps, matching thong that was basically nothing.
“What do you think?” she asked, holding it against her body over her clothes.
I swallowed. “Dangerous.”
She laughed softly. “Good dangerous?”
“Very.”
She added it to her arm, then grabbed a red one—satin bra with little bows, garter belt attached, stockings clipped on display.
“Red’s bold,” I said.
“I’m feeling bold today.” She glanced around, then leaned close. “Imagine peeling this off me later. Slow. One clip at a time.”
My voice came out rough. “Keep talking like that and we’re not making it home.”
She bit her lip, pleased. “Promise?”
She kept going—picked up a white sheer babydoll thing that would hide nothing, then a green satin slip with slits up the sides.
“Too many?” she asked, looking at the pile on her arm.
“Nope. Try them on. I’ll wait.”
She disappeared into the fitting room. I leaned against the wall outside, trying to look casual while my mind ran through every piece she’d grabbed.
A few minutes later the curtain slid open just enough for her to peek out.
“Come here,” she whispered.
I checked—no one was looking. Slipped inside.
She’d put on the black lace first. Bra pushed her tits up perfectly, nipples dark through the sheer parts. Thong high on her hips, cutting across her ass in a way that made my mouth dry. She turned slow, showing me the back—two thin straps over her shoulders, ass cheeks framed like a gift.
“Like?” she asked, voice soft.
I stepped closer, hands sliding to her waist. “Fuck yes.”
She pressed back against me, grinding once—slow, deliberate. I was hard instantly.
“Shh,” she giggled. “Not here. But… soon.”
She changed quick—tried the red next. The garter belt hugged her thighs, stockings sheer black. She hooked one leg up on the little bench, posing.
“Red’s my favorite so far,” I admitted.
“Mine too.” She ran her hands down her sides. “Feels sexy. Powerful.”
Next was the white babydoll. Sheer enough I could see every curve, every freckle. She spun, fabric floating.
“Too innocent?” she asked.
“Not on you.” I pulled her in, kissed her neck. “You make innocent look filthy.”
She moaned quietly, head tilting to give me more skin.
Last one—the green satin slip. She slid it over her head, let it fall. It clung to her like water, slits showing flashes of thigh every time she moved.
“This one’s easy access,” she whispered, lifting the hem just enough to show she wasn’t wearing anything underneath in the fitting room.
I groaned low. “You’re killing me.”
She dropped the hem, turned to face me. “I’m buying all of them. But I’m wearing the red tonight. With the garters.”
I nodded, words gone.
She changed back into her normal clothes fast, handed me the pile. “You pay. I’ll wait outside. Don’t want the salesgirl thinking we were doing something naughty in there.”
I laughed. “Too late for that.”
At the counter, the girl rang everything up without blinking—black lace set, red with garters, white babydoll, green slip. Total made my wallet cry a little, but worth every cent.
Yooyeon waited by the door, swinging the bag when I came out.
“Thank you,” she said, kissing me quick—right there in the mall hallway.
“Anytime.”
We walked out slow, her arm looped through mine. The mall was still buzzing, but it felt like we were in our own bubble.
“Home now?” I asked.
She nodded. “Yeah. But first… one more stop.”
She pulled me toward a small stand selling those giant soft ice creams on sticks—dipped in chocolate, covered in sprinkles.
“Last treat before we go,” she said. “Then you get to unwrap me like a present.”
I bought two—one for each of us. She took a big bite, chocolate smearing her lips.
“Race you to the car?” she teased, already walking backward.
I caught her waist, pulled her close.
“No racing. I want to take my time getting you home.”
She smiled against my mouth, tasting like chocolate and trouble.
“Good,” she whispered. “Because I want you to take your time taking everything off me too.”
We headed to the parking lot, her hand in mine, bag swinging between us.
We got home just as the sun was dipping low.
The drive back was quiet—her hand on my thigh the whole way, fingers tapping a slow rhythm like she was already thinking about what came next.
I parked in our spot, killed the engine. Yooyeon grabbed the bag before I could, swinging it like it weighed nothing.
“Wait in the bedroom,” she said, voice low and teasing. “Don’t peek. I want to surprise you.”
I raised an eyebrow. “How long?”
“Ten minutes. Maybe fifteen. Long enough for you to get hard just thinking about it.”
She laughed when she saw my face, then pushed me toward the hallway with both hands on my chest.
“Go. Shower if you want. But be on the bed when I come in.”
I didn’t argue.
I walked to our room, flipped on the small bedside lamp instead of the overhead light—kept it dim, cozy. Kicked off my shoes, pulled my shirt over my head, tossed it on the chair. Jeans next, then boxers. I lay back on the bed in just my skin, propped against the pillows, cock already half-hard from the way she’d been looking at me all afternoon.
The clock on the nightstand said 7:12. I stared at the ceiling, listening to the sounds of her moving around the apartment—water running in the bathroom, drawers opening and closing, soft footsteps on the wood floor. Every little noise made my pulse kick up.
At 7:28 the bathroom door clicked shut. Then quiet. Too quiet.
I waited.
The bedroom door opened slow.
Yooyeon stepped in.
Fuck.
She’d picked the red one.
The satin bra cupped her perfectly, pushing her breasts up high, little black bows sitting right on the center of each cup like they were begging to be untied. The matching garter belt hugged her waist, thin straps clipping to sheer black stockings that made her legs look a mile long. No panties—just smooth skin, bare pussy already glistening under the soft light. Her hair was down, loose waves framing her face, lips painted a deeper red than usual. She’d done smoky eyes too—made them look darker, hungrier.
She leaned against the doorframe for a second, one hand on her hip, the other trailing down her stomach, stopping just above her clit.
“Like what you see?” she asked, voice husky.
I sat up straighter, cock fully hard now, throbbing against my stomach. “Come here.”
She smiled slow, pushed off the frame, and walked toward the bed. Deliberate steps—hips swaying, stockings whispering with every move. When she reached the edge of the mattress she stopped, just out of reach.
“Not yet,” she said. “Look first.”
She turned slowly, showing me the back. The garter straps framed her ass perfectly, crisscrossing over her cheeks. She bent forward a little, hands on her knees, arching her back so I could see everything—pink folds already wet, clit peeking out.
“Jesus, Yooyeon…”
She straightened, turned back to face me. Climbed onto the bed on her knees, crawling toward me like a cat. The satin bra shifted with every move, nipples hard and visible through the thin fabric.
When she reached me she straddled my thighs, not sitting down yet—just hovering, heat from her pussy radiating against my cock.
“Touch me,” she whispered.
My hands went to her waist first, thumbs brushing the satin of the garter belt. Then up, cupping her breasts through the bra. Heavy, soft. I dragged my thumbs over her nipples—she gasped, hips jerking forward so her wet slit slid along my length.
“Fuck,” I groaned. “You’re soaked already.”
“Been wet since the fitting room,” she admitted, rocking slow. “Thought about you the whole time I was trying these on.”
I reached behind her, found the bra clasp. One flick—hooks undone. The red satin fell away. Her breasts spilled out, nipples dark and tight. I leaned in, took one in my mouth, sucked hard. She moaned loud, fingers tangling in my hair, pulling me closer.
“Yes—like that—”
I switched to the other, tongue flicking, teeth grazing just enough. Her hips rolled faster, coating my cock in her slick.
“Want you inside,” she panted. “Now.”
She lifted up, reached between us, lined me up. Sank down slow this time—inch by inch, eyes locked on mine. We both groaned when she bottomed out, her ass flush against my thighs.
“So full,” she breathed. “Love how you stretch me.”
She started riding—slow at first, rolling her hips in that perfect circle. The garter straps pulled tight every time she lifted, stockings sliding against my skin. I grabbed her ass, helped her move—lifting her, slamming her back down.
“Harder,” she begged. “Fuck me like you mean it.”
I thrust up hard, meeting her halfway. The bed creaked. Her tits bounced with every slam, nipples brushing my chest. She leaned forward, kissed me messy—tongue deep, teeth clashing.
“Gonna come soon,” she whimpered against my mouth. “Touch my clit—please—”
I slid one hand between us, found her swollen clit with my thumb. Rubbed fast, firm circles. She jerked, whole body tensing.
“Right there—fuck—don’t stop—”
Her pussy clenched hard around me, fluttering. She cried out, loud and broken, nails digging into my shoulders. I felt her come—hot, wet pulses squeezing my cock, thighs shaking.
I didn’t stop thrusting—fucked her through it, drawing it out until she was trembling, gasping.
When she finally caught her breath she looked at me, eyes glassy.
“Your turn,” she said. “Come inside me. Fill me up with this on.”
She started riding again—faster now, chasing my orgasm. The sight of her in the red lingerie, garters taut, stockings still perfect, hair wild—it was too much.
“Fuck, baby—I’m close—”
“Do it,” she whispered, grinding down deep. “Come in your wife.”
I gripped her hips hard, thrust up once, twice—then buried deep and came. Groaned loud, spilling into her, pulse after pulse. She moaned at the feeling, rocking slow to milk every drop.
We stayed like that for a minute—her on top, me still inside, both breathing hard. She leaned down, kissed me soft this time. Sweaty forehead against mine.
“Worth every cent,” she murmured.
I laughed, breathless. “You’re gonna bankrupt me with more shopping trips like that.”
She kissed my nose. “I’ve got three more sets in the bag.”
She slid off me carefully, cum already starting to drip down her thigh. She didn’t bother wiping it—just lay beside me, one leg thrown over mine, head on my chest.
After a minute she lifted her head, chin on my shoulder, eyes soft but serious.
“Hey,” she whispered. “Can I tell you something?”
“Anything.”
She bit her lip, then smiled small. “I think I want a baby.”
I blinked. Turned my head to look at her properly. “Really? After all this time?”
“Yeah.” She traced my collarbone. “Her family’s been pushing forever, right? But I never wanted it because of them. I wanted it to be because of us. Tonight… wearing this, feeling you inside me, everything just clicked. I want our kid. With you.”
My heart did a weird flip. I pulled her closer, kissed her forehead. “You sure? We’ve been happy just us.”
“I’m sure.” She propped herself up on one elbow. “I’m 26 now. We’ve got the apartment, steady jobs. And I love you so much it hurts sometimes. I want to make a little person who looks like both of us. Who laughs like you when they’re sleepy.”
She paused, voice dropping. “We don’t have to rush. But… maybe we stop being careful tonight. Just see what happens.”
I searched her face. No doubt there. Just warmth. Want.
“Okay,” I said. “If you’re ready, I’m ready.”
Her smile got big. She rolled on top of me again, straddling my hips. The garters stretched tight across her thighs.
“Then let’s make sure,” she said, voice playful now. “One more round. Deep. No pulling out this time.”
I was already getting hard again just from her words. She felt it, grinned, reached down and stroked me slow.
“See? You want it too.”
She lifted up, guided me back inside her—still slick from before, warm and easy. We both sighed when I slid all the way in.
“Fuck, baby… you feel perfect,” I groaned.
She started moving, slow and deep this time. No rush. Hips rolling in that way she knows drives me crazy. Her hands on my chest, nails light.
“Imagine it,” she whispered, eyes half-closed. “Me getting round with our baby. You rubbing my belly. Us picking names in bed like this.”
I gripped her hips, thrust up gentle to meet her. “Boy or girl?”
“Doesn’t matter. As long as they’re ours.”
She leaned down, kissed me slow—tongue sliding against mine, breathing together. We rocked like that for long minutes, building steady. No loud moans this time. Just soft sounds, skin on skin, her breath in my ear.
“I love you,” she said against my mouth. “So much.”
“Love you more. Always.”
Her rhythm got a little faster. She clenched around me, close again.
“Come with me,” she breathed. “Inside. All the way.”
I held her tight, thrust deep, and let go. She came right after—quiet gasp, body shaking, milking me. I filled her again, pulse after pulse, imagining it taking root.
We stayed joined, her on my chest, breathing slow.
She kissed my jaw. “That felt different. Special.”
“Yeah.”
She smiled sleepy. “Maybe it worked. Maybe not. We’ll try again tomorrow if we have to.”
I laughed soft, wrapped my arms around her. “Every night. As many as it takes.”
She nuzzled closer, still in her red lingerie, garters tangled in the sheets.
Our future felt wide open now. Just us, plus maybe one more.
Male Reader x Summer (Odd Youth), Hyerin (tripleS)
~5000 kata
-> english version <-
“Maaf ya, kamu bukan tipe aku.”
Aku berdiri kaku di tangga belakang saat Hyerin bilang itu.
“Kamu terlalu terobsesi,”
“Kamu menyebalkan, kamu terlalu...”
“Maaf,” dia balik badan terus pergi begitu saja.
Kata-katanya singkat, tapi langsung ngehantam. Aku udah effort banget, selalu ada, nemenin, ngobrol sampe subuh, bantuin tugas. Ternyata cuma bikin dia risih.
Sejak hari itu aku berubah. Aku jadi lebih pendiam, fokus ke PR, les, baca novel, main game sendirian.
Ga nyapa duluan, ga ngasih cokelat, ga nanya “udah makan?”
Kalau dia nyapa, aku cuma ngangguk atau jawab singkat.
Pelan-pelan aku ga lagi ngeliatin dia diam-diam, ga lagi berharap.
Aku beraniin diri pergi ke gym yang tiap hari aku lewatin pas pulang sekolah. Tempatnya di pinggir jalan besar, gedung kaca gede, lampu neonnya nyala sampe malem.
Selama ini cuma ngelirik dari luar, liat orang-orang keluar masuk bawa tas olahraga, badan basah keringet. Hari ini aku mutusin masuk.
Di depan resepsionis ada mba-mba umur dua puluhan, rambut dicepol, senyum ramah. Aku nanya-nanya soal biaya membership, paket bulanan, paket tahunan, apa ada diskon buat pelajar. Dia jelasin pelan-pelan sambil ngetik di komputer. Aku cuma mangut-mangut, pura-pura ngerti padahal otak masih setengah bingung.
Tiba-tiba ada cewek dateng dari belakang, bawa botol minum gede, rambut dikuncir tinggi, pake tanktop hitam ketat sama legging abu-abu. Badannya ramping tapi berotot, bahunya lebar, perutnya rata banget. Dia nyapa resepsionis, bilang mau perpanjang membership.
Pas dia nengok ke aku, matanya kayak kenal.
“Kamu dari kelasnya Hyerin ya?” tanyanya.
Denger nama itu lagi rasanya kayak ditusuk. Aku cuma bisa ngangguk pelan. “Iya... ka-kamu kenal Hyerin?”
“Dulu satu kelompok waktu MPLS, tapi sekarang jarang ngobrol,” jawabnya santai. Dia senyum tipis. “Oiya, aku Summer.”
Aku kasih tau nama aku. Dia nyodorin tangan, jabatannya kuat tapi ga kasar.
“Kamu sering nge-gym?” tanyaku basa-basi.
“Udah dua tahun membership. Ini tahun ketiga,” katanya sambil narik kartu member dari dompet kecil. “Kamu mau daftar?”
Aku ngangguk. “Mau coba. Tapi aku ga pernah nge-gym beneran.”
Dia ketawa kecil. “Santai aja. Badan kamu posturnya udah bagus kok. Tinggi, pundak lebar, cuma perlu dikencengin dikit.” Dia ngomong sambil nepuk-nepuk lengan aku, terus turun ke perut di balik seragam. Sentuhannya ringan tapi bikin aku kaget. Panas langsung naik ke muka.
“Wow, perutnya udah ada garis tipis nih,” katanya sambil nyengir. “Kamu mau daftar membership? Aku bisa jadi trainer kamu buat awal-awal, kalau kamu ga kuat bayar PT.”
“PT?”
“Personal Trainer,” dia ketawa lagi, “Aku ga resmi sih, tapi aku bisa ngajarin basic. Biar kamu ga bingung sendiri.”
Aku bengong. “Bo… boleh?”
“Boleh banget. Besok kamu dateng jam berapa?”
“Besok sore abis pulang sekolah, gimana?”
Dia ngangguk, “oke, ini nomor wa aku, kabarin aja nanti kalau beneran dateng.”
Setelah deal aku bayar membership untuk satu bulan dulu, aku bakal mulai besok, ditraining Summer.
Malemnya aku ga bisa tidur nyenyak.
Bayangin badan Summer tadi, cara dia nepuk lengan aku, senyumnya yang santai tapi bikin jantungan.
Aku buka WA, ngetik pesen pendek, “Ini aku, besok aku dateng ya, jam 4.”
Dia bales cepet, “Oke, bawa baju ganti. Jangan lupa minum air banyak.”
Besoknya aku dateng tepat waktu setelah pulang sekolah.
Summer udah nunggu di depan, pake sports bra hitam sama celana pendek ketat. Badannya keliatan lebih jelas sekarang—otot lengan kecil tapi kenceng, pinggang ramping, bokongnya bulat pas dia jalan.
“Nah ini dia, siap?” tanyanya pas aku nyamperin dia.
Aku ngangguk, “Siap.”
Dia bawa aku masuk, kasih tour singkat: area kardio, beban, ruang yoga, sama locker. Terus dia bawa ke sudut yang agak sepi.
“Hari ini kita coba basic aja. Squat, push-up, plank. Biar aku liat kekuatan kamu.”
Aku ganti baju di locker, pake kaos olahraga lama sama celana pendek. Pas keluar, Summer lagi nunggu sambil selonjoran di matras. Dia berdiri, ngeliat aku dari atas sampe bawah.
“Bagus. Postur kamu emang cocok buat angkat beban,” katanya.
Dia deketin, berdiri tepat di depan aku. “Aku pegang pinggang kamu dulu ya, biar posisi squat-nya bener.”
Tangannya langsung nyentuh pinggang aku dari samping. Jempolnya nempel di tulang pinggul, jari-jarinya agak masuk ke sisi perut. Aku kaku. Napas aku jadi pendek.
“Turunin bokongnya pelan-pelan, dada maju, punggung lurus,” bisiknya deket telinga. Suaranya lembut tapi tegas. Tiap aku turun, tangannya ikut gerak, nahan supaya ga miring. Badan kami hampir nempel. Aku bisa ngerasain panas badannya.
Setelah sepuluh repetisi, dia bilang istirahat. Aku duduk di matras, keringetan. Dia jongkok di depan aku, mata kami sejajar.
“Kamu kuat kok. Cuma perlu biasain,” katanya sambil nyodorin botol air. Jari kami senggolan pas aku ambil. Dia ga buru-buru narik tangan.
“Summer… makasih ya udah mau ngajarin,” kataku pelan.
Dia senyum, agak beda dari tadi. Lebih dalam. “Sama-sama. Aku suka ngeliat orang yang serius mau berubah.”
Dia diem bentar, “Lagian… kamu lucu kalau lagi grogi gini.”
Muka aku langsung panas lagi. Dia ketawa kecil, berdiri, terus narik tangan aku supaya berdiri juga.
“Hari ini cukup. Besok kita lanjutin. Aku tunggu ya.”
Pas aku mau pulang, dia nganter sampe pintu. Di depan pintu kaca, dia berhenti, nengok ke aku.
“Eh, iya,” katanya. “Kalau capek, boleh chat aku kapan aja. Ga harus soal gym.”
Aku cuma bisa ngangguk, senyum kaku. Jantung aku berdegup kenceng banget.
Malem itu aku rebahan di kasur, badan pegel tapi pikiran ga bisa diem.
Aku buka chat Summer, liat foto profilnya—dia lagi pose di gym, pake sports bra, senyum lebar. Aku scroll ke atas, baca ulang chat tadi.
Aku ngetik pesen, hapus, ngetik lagi, hapus lagi.
Akhirnya aku kirim yang simpel, “Makasih hari ini. Besok aku dateng lagi.”
Dia bales dalam hitungan detik, “Bagus. Aku tunggu. Istirahat yang cukup ya, biar besok kuat lagi.”
Empat minggu berlalu cepat.
Tiap hari setelah sekolah aku langsung ke gym, ga pernah bolos.
Badan mulai berubah.
Bahu yang dulu cuma lebar doang sekarang keliatan lebih tebel, lengan mulai ada urat kecil pas aku angkat dumbbell, perut yang dulu rata biasa sekarang mulai muncul garis tipis kalau aku kontraksi.
Aku timbang badan tiap minggu, naik dua kilo, tapi bukan lemak—otot. Cermin di kamar mulai jadi temen baru; aku suka berdiri depan situ, angkat kaos, liat progress sendiri.
Summer masih nemenin aku latihan. Dia ga cuma ngajarin gerakan, tapi juga ngitung repetisi, ngingetin napas, sampe nyemangatin pas aku mau nyerah di set terakhir.
Tiap selesai latihan dia selalu bilang, “Liat deh, dari pertama kali dateng sampe sekarang beda jauh. Aku bangga banget.” Matanya berbinar pas ngomong gitu, bikin aku ikut senyum lebar.
Di sekolah kami cuma saling sapa kalau papasan. “Eh, pagi,” atau “Latihan nanti ya?” Dia suka nepuk terus pencet pundak aku pelan, terus jalan lagi. Ga lebih dari itu. Tapi cukup buat bikin hari aku lebih ringan.
Hyerin… aku tahu dia mulai nengok lagi.
Kadang pas istirahat aku ngerasa ada yang ngeliatin dari jauh. Pas aku balik badan, dia buru-buru ngalihin muka.
Aku ga peduli. Biarin aja. Aku udah ga punya waktu buat mikirin dia. Fokusku cuma satu, angkat beban, bentuk badan, makan banyak, tidur cukup.
Hari Sabtu sore, hujan gerimis di luar.
Hari ini gym sepi banget. Cuma ada beberapa orang di area kardio, sama kami berdua di pojokan beban yang agak tersembunyi. Summer pilih spot itu biar ga ganggu orang lain, katanya.
Tapi aku tahu alasannya lain, dia mau lebih bebas ngoreksi posisi aku tanpa diliatin orang.
Hari ini outfitnya beda.
Biasanya sports bra sama legging biasa, tapi sore ini dia pake sports bra putih yang potongannya rendah banget, bagian bawah dada keliatan garis otot perutnya jelas.
Celananya high-waist legging abu-abu tua, bahan yang nempel banget, bikin bentuk bokong sama paha keliatan sempurna. Rambutnya dikuncir tinggi, ada beberapa helai lepas nempel di leher yang basah keringet. Aku coba fokus ke barbel di tangan, tapi susah.
Kami mulai latihan deadlift. Dia berdiri di depan aku, ngajarin cara tarik pinggul ke belakang supaya punggung ga melengkung.
“Turunin pinggulnya pelan, dada maju, pandangan lurus,” katanya sambil jongkok di depan aku.
Dari posisi itu aku bisa liat jelas lekuk dadanya yang naik-turun pas dia napas, keringet menetes dari leher ke tulang selangka.
Aku langsung ngerasa darah turun deras ke bawah.
Aku coba tahan. Biasanya aku bisa. Biasanya aku bisa alihin pikiran ke hitungan repetisi atau napas. Tapi hari ini ga bisa.
Makin aku angkat beban, makin kenceng tekanan di celana pendek olahraga aku. Sampe akhirnya pas lagi istirahat di antara set, Summer berdiri tepat di depan aku, ngeliat ke bawah.
Dia diem bentar. Matanya turun ke selangkangan aku, terus naik lagi ke muka.
Senyum kecil muncul di bibirnya, ga kaget, malah kayak… seneng.
“Udah ga tahan ya?” tanyanya pelan, suaranya hampir bisik biar ga kedengeran orang lain.
Aku langsung panik, buru-buru narik handuk kecil nutupin depan. “Ma… maaf, aku—”
“Gapapa,” potongnya cepet. Dia maju selangkah, berdiri deket banget sampe aku bisa ngerasain hawa panas badannya.
“Justru bagus. Artinya kamu sehat, hormon lagi bagus, emang wajar kok keras kalau lagi gini.”
Aku ga bisa ngomong apa-apa. Muka panas, jantung berdegup kenceng.
Dia ngeliat ke kanan-kiri, pastiin ga ada yang nengok, terus balik lagi ke aku.
“Kalau mau… kita bisa selesai lebih cepet hari ini,” katanya pelan. “Loker room sepi. Aku bisa... bantu.”
Aku bengong. Ga nyangka dia bakal ngomong gitu.
“Se-serius?” tanyaku pelan, suara hampir ilang.
Dia cuma ngangguk kecil, jari telunjuknya nyentuh dagu aku sebentar, angkat muka aku supaya tatap matanya.
“Aku suka liat kamu berubah. Dari cowok yang grogi, sekarang udah jadi cowok yang… bikin orang penasaran.”
Dia bisik lagi, “Dan aku penasaran banget hari ini.”
Aku telan ludah. Badan masih tegang, tapi sekarang bukan cuma karena olahraga, aku ngangguk pelan.
Summer senyum lebar, ambil botol airnya, terus jalan duluan ke arah lorong loker. Aku ikut di belakang, handuk masih nutupin depan, jalan agak pincang karena… ya gitulah.
Di lorong sepi itu, dia berhenti di depan pintu ruang loker. Nengok ke aku sekali lagi, mata berbinar.
“Masuk dulu. Aku nyusul dua menit. Jangan coli dulu ya...”
Fak dia ngomong gitu pula.
Aku masuk, pintu ditutup pelan di belakangku.
Sepi, cuma ada suara AC yang pelan dan bau sabun campur keringet samar-samar.
Aku berdiri di depan bangku panjang, tangan gemeteran. Jantung berdegup kenceng banget, kayak mau loncat keluar.
Ini pertama kalinya buat aku—nggak cuma soal Summer, tapi soal apa yang bakal terjadi selanjutnya. Aku belum pernah sampe sejauh ini sama siapa pun.
Dua menit kemudian, pintu terbuka lagi. Summer masuk, kunci pintu dari dalam.
Dia langsung nyamperin aku, “Ga ada orang lain,” katanya pelan, suaranya serak karena latihan tadi. “Kita aman.”
Dia berdiri tepat di depan aku, jarak cuma beberapa senti. Bau parfumnya campur keringet bikin kepala aku pusing.
Dia angkat tangan, jari-jarinya nyentuh pipi aku, terus turun ke leher, lalu dada. “Santai aja,” bisiknya. “Aku yang mulai.”
Tangannya langsung turun ke bawah, ke selangkangan aku. Lewat celana pendek olahraga yang tipis, dia bisa ngerasain aku yang udah keras banget.
Dia pegang pelan, jempolnya gerak lingkaran di ujungnya. Aku mendesah pelan, badan langsung tegang.
“Udah keras banget dari tadi ya?” katanya sambil ketawa kecil.
Aku cuma bisa ngangguk, suara ga keluar. Dia tarik celana pendek aku turun pelan, sampe ke lutut. Penisku langsung loncat keluar, keras, uratnya keliatan jelas, ujungnya udah basah.
Summer ngeliatin sebentar, mata berbinar. “Bagus banget,” gumamnya. “Lebih gede dari yang aku bayangin.”
Dia jongkok di depan aku, tangan kanannya langsung pegang batangnya, gerak naik-turun pelan. Kulitnya halus, hangat, jari-jarinya ngeringkus pas.
Aku pegang bahunya biar ga jatuh. “Pelan dulu ya,” katanya sambil ngeliat ke atas, mata ketemu mata.
Gerakannya mulai cepet, jempolnya muter di ujung, ngerasain cairan yang keluar. Aku mendesah lebih keras, pinggul maju sendiri.
“Enak?” tanyanya.
“Iya…” jawabku pelan.
Dia senyum, terus gerakannya makin cepet. Tangan kirinya pegang dua biji itu, mainin pelan.
Aku ngerasa mau keluar cepet banget, tapi dia tiba-tiba berhenti. “Belum,” katanya.
Dia berdiri, tarik sports bra-nya ke atas, lepasin. Dadanya keluar, payudara bulat, putingnya udah keras, cokelat muda.
Aku ga bisa nahan, tangan aku langsung nyentuh, remes pelan. Dia mendesah, kepala miring. “Suka?” tanyanya.
“Iya… cantik banget.”
Dia tarik aku ke bangku panjang, duduk di situ, aku berdiri di depannya.
Dia buka mulut, lidahnya keluar, jilatin ujung penisku pelan. Rasanya basah, hangat, bikin aku gemeter, lanjut dia masukin pelan-pelan, bibirnya ngeringkus, lidahnya muter di dalam.
“Fak... Summer...” Aku pegang rambutnya, ga kuat nahan.
Dia mulai gerak maju-mundur, mulutnya dalam banget, sampe nyentuh tenggorokan. Suara basah kedengeran, dia ga berhenti.
Tangan kanannya masih mainin batangnya yang ga masuk mulut, kiri pegang pahaku.
Aku ngerasa mau keluar lagi. “Summer… aku mau…”
Dia tarik keluar, ngeliat ke atas sambil pegang penisku. “Belum. Aku mau kamu di dalem aku dulu.”
Dia berdiri, buka legging-nya turun pelan. Celana dalam putih tipis, udah basah di tengah. Dia lepasin, buka kakinya lebar, duduk di bangku, punggungnya nyandar. Vaginanya keliatan jelas, rapi, bulu tipis, bibirnya merah muda, udah basah banget.
Dia ambil tas kecilnya, keluarin kondom. “Aku prepare dari tadi,” katanya sambil nyengir. Dia buka bungkusnya, pasang ke penis aku pelan-pelan, jari-jarinya gerak lincah.
“Ini pertama kali kamu ya?”
Aku ngangguk malu.
“Tenang. Aku yang atur.”
Dia tarik aku deket, kakinya melingkar di pinggang aku. Tangan kirinya pegang penis aku, arahin ke lubangnya. “Masukin pelan,” bisiknya.
Aku dorong pelan. Ujungnya masuk, rasanya sempit, hangat, basah.
Dia mendesah keras. “Ahh… iya gitu.”
Aku dorong lagi, setengah masuk. Dia kencengin kakinya, tarik aku lebih dalam. Akhirnya masuk penuh, aku ngerasa di dalamnya ngeringkus penisku ketat.
Dia mulai gerak pinggulnya, maju-mundur pelan. Aku ikut gerak, keluar-masuk pelan dulu. Tiap dorong, dia mendesah lebih keras.
“Lebih cepet,” katanya.
Aku tambah kecepatan, dorong lebih dalam, suara benturan kulit kedengeran. Dadanya naik-turun, putingnya bergoyang. Aku pegang pinggangnya, dorong lebih kuat.
Aku angkat salah satu kakinya ke bahu, biar lebih dalam. Dia jerit kecil, tangannya remes punggung aku. “Ahh… yes, di situ!”
Aku dorong lebih keras, rasanya penisku dibelit ketat.
Dia mulai gemeter, badannya tegang. “Aku mau keluar…” bisiknya.
Aku tambah cepet, dorong dalam-dalam.
Dia jerit pelan, badannya kejang, vaginanya berkedut-kedut ngeringkus penisku. Dia orgasme duluan, kakinya gemeter, tangannya cengkeram bahu aku kuat.
Aku ga tahan lagi, dorong beberapa kali lagi, terus keluar di dalam kondom. Rasanya panas, banyak banget, aku mendesah keras.
Kami berdua napas ngos-ngosan. Dia tarik aku peluk, kepala aku di dada dia. “Kamu hebat,” katanya sambil cium kening aku. “Pertama kali tapi udah bisa bikin puas.”
Aku cuma bisa senyum, badan lemes, tarik keluar pelan, kondom penuh.
Dia tarik kondomnya, iket, ambil tisu dari tasnya, kondomnya dibalut pakai tissue, buang ke tempat sampah organik, terus bersihin kami berdua.
“Besok kita lanjutin latihan lagi ya,” katanya sambil ketawa kecil. “Tapi mungkin… tambah sesi ini.”
Aku ngangguk, masih ga percaya apa yang baru terjadi.
Dia berdiri, pake baju lagi. “Aku keluar duluan. Kamu tunggu lima menit, baru keluar. Biar ga ketauan.”
Dia cium bibir aku pelan, lidahnya nyentuh sebentar. “Makasih hari ini. Kamu… bikin aku ketagihan.”
Dia keluar, pintu ditutup. Aku duduk di bangku, badan masih bergetar. Aku liat cermin di depan, liat badan aku yang udah lebih berotot, muka yang merah, senyum yang ga bisa ilang.
Ini pertama kali. Dan rasanya… luar biasa.
Aku ga nyangka, dari ditolak Hyerin, sekarang aku ada di sini, sama Summer, badan baru, pengalaman baru, dan perasaan yang bener-bener bebas.
Gym selesai, badan basah keringet, tapi kami berdua ga langsung pulang.
Summer pegang tangan aku pelan, bisik, “Malem ini kita ga pulang ya? Ada penginapan murah deket sini.”
Aku ngangguk, jantung langsung deg-degan lagi.
Kami jalan kaki sepuluh menit, masuk ke penginapan kecil di gang belakang.
Kamar tipe standar, kasur double, AC pelan, lampu kuning temaram.
Sebelum check-in, kami mampir minimarket sebelah. Aku ambil beberapa bungkus kondom—tiga pak, ukuran besar.
Kasir cewek umur dua puluhan ngeliat badan aku yang udah berotot, cuma senyum tipis, ga nanya apa-apa. “Makasih ya, Kak,” katanya sambil masukin plastik.
Di kamar, pintu dikunci. Summer langsung dorong aku ke kasur, cium dalam. Malam itu panjang—kami ganti posisi berkali-kali, pakai semua kondom yang aku beli. Dia liar, aku belajar cepet. Sampai subuh, badan lemes, tapi puas banget.
Pagi tiba. Jam di HP aku nunjukin baru jam setengah enam, tapi kami berdua udah bangun.
Badan masih pegel enak, kasur double-nya kecil, jadi kami berdua nempel terus dari semalem. Kepalanya Summer di dada aku, tangan kirinya melingkar di pinggang, jari-jarinya mainin garis otot perut aku yang sekarang udah mulai keliatan jelas.
Aku usap-usap rambutnya pelan, sedikit basah dari mandi semalem, dia ngeliat ke atas, mata setengah melek, senyum kecil.
“Pagi,” katanya serak.
“Pagi,” jawabku. Suara juga masih serak abis teriak-teriak semalem.
Kami diem bentar. Ga buru-buru bangun. Ga buru-buru pulang. Kayak dunia di luar kamar ini ga ada.
“Summer…” aku mulai pelan. “Kamu… kenapa mulai nge-gym dulu?”
Dia tarik napas panjang, terus geser posisi biar duduk nyandar di kepala kasur. Selimut cuma nutupin dada, bahunya telanjang. Dia tarik HP dari meja samping, scroll sebentar, terus nunjukin foto.
“Ini aku dua setengah tahun lalu,” katanya.
Aku ngeliat. Cewek di foto itu kurus banget. Tulang pipi menonjol, lengan kecil kayak ranting, dada hampir rata. Baju kaos longgar keliatan kebesaran. Senyumnya ada, tapi matanya kayak kosong.
Beda jauh sama Summer sekarang—yang badannya pulen di tempat yang pas, otot kenceng tapi masih feminin, pinggang ramping tapi pinggul lebar, dada penuh, paha berisi.
“Wow…” aku gumam. “Beneran beda.”
“Iya. Dulu aku 39 kilo. Sekarang 58,” katanya sambil ketawa kecil. “Aku mulai nge-gym karena diselingkuhin.”
Aku nengok ke dia, ga nyangka.
“Pacar aku waktu itu… dia bilang aku terlalu kurus. Katanya ga seksi, ga ada ‘pegangan’. Terus dia selingkuh sama cewek yang lebih berisi. Aku denger dari temen, dia bilang ke orang lain, ‘Summer sih kurus, ga enak dipeluk.’ Aku nangis seminggu. Terus aku ga mau lagi jadi cewek yang orang tinggalin gara-gara badan.”
Dia diem bentar, mainin ujung selimut.
“Aku daftar gym, makan lebih banyak, belajar angkat beban. Awalnya susah banget. Belajar sendiri. Badan pegel, takut jadi gede kayak cowok, tapi aku terus nge-gym tiap hari.”
“Setiap hari, sendirian?” aku kaget ga percaya.
Dia ngangguk, “Orang-orang di gym ga peduli sama cewek kurus kering awalnya, jadi aku liat tutorial di youtube.”
“Terus, setahun kemudian, badan mulai berubah. Orang-orang pada notice. Mantanku juga notice.”
Aku angkat alis. “Dia notice?”
“Ha ha, iya. Dua bulan lalu dia chat tiba-tiba. Bilang kangen, bilang nyesel, bilang sekarang aku ‘jadi cewek idaman’. Ngajak balikan. Kirim foto aku yang lagi pose di gym, bilang ‘ini yang aku mau dulu’.”
Aku ngerasa dada panas. Bukan cemburu, tapi kesel. “Terus kamu jawab apa?”
Summer nyengir, matanya sinis. “Aku bales cuma satu kata: ‘No’.” Dia ketawa pelan. “Aku blokir nomornya. Aku ga mau balik ke orang yang ninggalin aku pas aku lagi down. Aku bangun sendiri, aku ga butuh dia buat validasi lagi.”
Aku tarik dia peluk dari samping. “Kamu hebat,” kataku pelan.
Dia balas peluk, kepalanya nyandar di bahu aku. “Makasih. Kamu juga. Dari pertama kali dateng ke gym, grogi, ga berani angkat mata, sekarang… liat deh.”
Tangannya turun, nepuk-nepuk dada aku. “Dada lebar, lengan tebel, perut ada six-pack tipis. Kamu berubah lebih cepet dari aku dulu.”
Aku senyum malu. “Karena ada trainer bagus.”
“Trainer yang suka sama muridnya,” tambahnya sambil nyengir nakal, kami ketawa bareng.
Summer nengok ke aku, matanya bulat. Kayak dia udah nunggu buat ngomong sesuatu.
“Aku tahu kamu dulu suka banget sama dia, Hyerin. Semua orang tahu. Kamu selalu ngikutin dia, ngasih cokelat, nemenin kemana-mana. Terus tiba-tiba… kamu berubah. Jadi pendiam, fokus sendiri. Aku notice dari jauh. Pas kamu mulai dateng gym, aku langsung tahu, ini cowok pasti lagi patah hati, lagi mau buktiin sesuatu ke diri sendiri.”
Aku ngangguk pelan. “Iya. Dia nolak aku mentah-mentah. Bilang aku terobsesi, menyebalkan. Aku malu banget. Dari situ aku mutusin, ga mau lagi jadi orang yang nunggu orang lain.”
Summer usap pipi aku. “Dan sekarang kamu ga nunggu lagi. Kamu ambil apa yang kamu mau.”
Dia cium bibir aku pelan. “Termasuk aku.”
Aku balas ciumannya, kali ini lebih dalam. Tangan aku masuk ke bawah selimut, nyentuh pinggangnya yang halus. Dia mendesah kecil.
“Aku ga nyangka bakal sampe sini. Dari ditolak, sekarang… ada kamu.”
Dia tarik badan aku biar aku naik ke atasnya. Selimut jatuh, badan kami nempel lagi. Kulitnya hangat, masih bau sabun semalem.
“Aku juga ga nyangka,” katanya sambil megang leher aku. “Aku pikir cuma mau bantu cowok yang lagi down. Ternyata… aku yang ketagihan.”
Kami ciuman lagi, lama. Aku jelajah dadanya, remes pelan, jempol mainin putingnya yang langsung keras. Dia mendesah di mulutku.
Dia dorong aku telentang, naik ke atas. Rambutnya jatuh nutupin muka aku. “Kita masih punya waktu sebelum check-out. Mau lanjut satu ronde?”
Aku ngangguk cepet. Dia turun, cium leher aku, turun ke dada, jilatin puting aku sebentar—bikin aku kaget dan mendesah.
Terus dia geser ke bawah, buka boxer aku pelan. Penis aku udah setengah keras lagi. Dia pegang, jilatin dari bawah sampe atas, mata nengok ke aku.
“Masih semangat ya?” tanyanya sambil nyengir.
“Pastinya,” jawabku.
Dia masukin ke mulut, pelan dulu, lidah muter di ujung. Aku pegang rambutnya, napas cepet. Dia gerak maju-mundur, dalam banget, sampe aku ngerasa mau keluar lagi. Tapi dia berhenti, naik lagi, posisi cowgirl.
Dia ambil kondom dari meja—masih sisa dua dari semalem—pasang cepet. Terus turun pelan, masukin sendiri. Rasanya masih sempit, basah, hangat. Dia mulai goyang pinggul, maju-mundur, tangannya di dada aku buat tumpuan.
Aku pegang pinggulnya, bantu dorong dari bawah. Kami gerak bareng, ritmenya cepet. Dadanya bergoyang, keringet mulai muncul lagi. Dia mendesah keras, ga peduli suara kedengeran ke kamar sebelah.
“Aku mau di atas kamu terus,” katanya serak. “Suka liat muka kamu pas lagi enak.”
Aku tarik dia turun, cium dalam sambil dorong pinggul dari bawah. Dia jerit kecil di mulut aku, badannya gemeter. Kami ganti posisi—doggy di pinggir kasur. Aku dari belakang, pegang pinggulnya, masuk dalam-dalam. Bokongnya bulat, kenceng, tiap dorong bergetar. Dia remes sprei, jerit pelan.
“Lebih kenceng…” pintanya.
Aku tambah kecepatan, dorong kuat. Suara benturan kulit sama napas kami nyaring di kamar.
Dia orgasme duluan lagi, vaginanya berdekut kuat, bikin aku ga tahan. Aku keluar di dalam kondom, dorong beberapa kali lagi, sampe habis.
Kami ambruk bareng di kasur, napas ngos-ngosan. Dia peluk aku dari samping, kaki melingkar.
“Summer… aku suka sama kamu,” kataku tiba-tiba, ga direncanain.
Dia nengok ke aku, senyum lembut. “Aku juga suka kamu.”
Kami diem lagi, cuma pelukan. Ga buru-buru bangun. Ga buru-buru mikirin Hyerin, mantan dia, atau apa pun di luar sana.
Dan rasanya… cukup.
Dua bulan berlalu sejak malam pertama di penginapan murah itu. Aku sama Summer resmi pacaran setelahnya.
Ga ada yang dramatis, cuma pas lagi duduk di bangku taman deket gym, dia tiba-tiba bilang, “Kita pacaran aja yuk, biar ga ribet.”
Aku cuma bisa ketawa, bilang “iya” sambil peluk dia erat-erat.
Sejak itu, hidupku kayak berubah total.
Setiap hari pulang sekolah langsung ke gym. Summer masih jadi trainer pribadiku, tapi sekarang lebih dari itu.
Dia suka nungguin aku di depan gerbang sekolah, kadang bawa dua botol protein shake—satu buat aku, satu buat dia. Kami latihan bareng, saling koreksi, saling semangatin.
Badanku makin ngebentuk. Bahu lebar, lengan mulai ada urat tegas pas aku angkat dumbbell, dada tebel, perut six-pack tipis yang mulai keliatan kalau aku angkat kaos.
Aku juga ngerasa lebih tinggi—mungkin cuma ilusi karena postur yang lebih tegak, tapi temen-temen pada bilang, “Eh lo kok keliatan lebih tinggi sekarang?”
Di sekolah aku jadi lebih pede. Dulu aku suka jalan nunduk, takut ketemu Hyerin, kadang takut ketemu orang. Sekarang aku jalan tegak, senyum ke orang-orang, ikut ngobrol di kantin tanpa grogi.
Kadang Summer jemput aku pas istirahat, kami duduk bareng di tangga belakang, makan roti isi sambil ngobrol ngalor-ngidul. Dia suka nyenderin kepala di bahu aku, mainin jari-jari aku.
Orang-orang mulai notice.
Awalnya cuma bisik-bisik. “Itu yang dulu ngejar Hyerin, sekarang pacaran sama Summer kelas sebelah?” Terus makin rame.
Kami mulai sering jalan bareng pas libur—ke mall, nonton bioskop, makan di warteg pinggir jalan, atau cuma nongkrong di taman sambil foto-foto.
Aku yang dulu ga pernah update story, sekarang mulai berani.
Foto kami berdua selfie di gym, caption “progress day 90 💪❤️”.
Foto tangan bergandengan pas lagi jalan di trotoar, caption “jalan sore biasa”.
Foto Summer lagi ketawa lebar pas aku bercanda, caption “dia yang bikin hari biasa jadi spesial”.
Ga lama, kami jadi perbincangan orang-orang di sekolah.
Banyak yang bilang “couple goals banget”.
Anak-anak kelas sebelah suka nyamperin, “Eh bro, ajarin dong caranya dapet cewek kayak Summer.”
Cewek-cewek pada muji, “Lo sekarang beda banget, dulu pendiem, sekarang keren.”
Guru olahraga sampe bilang, “Bagus nih, badan lo makin fit. Latihan terus ya.”
Aku cuma senyum-senyum, dalem hati bangga banget.
Tapi ga semua orang seneng. Ada juga yang iri, atau mungkin sebel.
Ada yang bilang di grup kelas, “Dulu ngejar Hyerin sampe lebay, sekarang ganti cewek doang.”
Ada yang nyeletuk pas aku lewat, “Eh, badan doang yang berubah, otak masih sama.”
Aku denger, tapi aku cuekin.
Aku ga lagi orang yang gampang tersinggung. Aku punya Summer, punya progress, punya hidup baru. Itu cukup.
Berita kami pacaran akhirnya sampai ke Hyerin.
Hyerin lagi duduk di kantin bareng gengnya, terus ada yang ngegodain, “Eh Rin, mantan gebetan lo sekarang pacaran sama Summer tuh. Keliatan mesra banget ini di story,” sambil ngasih liat lewat HP.
Hyerin cuma diem, katanya mukanya merah, tapi ga bales apa-apa. Temen-temennya malah makin ngegas.
“Ya Tuhan, Rin, lo nolak dia gara-gara apa sih? Sekarang dia jadi gini loh, badan bagus, pede, ceweknya juga kece.”
“Dulu lo bilang dia terobsesi, nyebelin. Eh sekarang Summer yang dapet jackpot.”
“Nyesel ga sih?”
Hyerin cuma geleng kepala pelan, bilang “udah, ah, ga usah dibahas.” Tapi matanya keliatan beda—kayak ada sesuatu yang nyesel, atau mungkin cuma kesel karena jadi bahan omongan.
Aku ga tau kalau jadwal piket udah di-rolling ulang minggu ini.
Pas aku cek di papan pengumuman kelas, nama aku sama Hyerin satu baris: Senin sore, piket bersih-bersih ruang kelas.
Tapi hari ini parah. Senin sore, semua anak kelas pada kabur duluan pas bel pulang. Ada yang bilang ada pertandingan bola di lapangan belakang, ada yang buru-buru ke les, ada yang pura-pura lupa bawa sapu, ruang kelas 11 IPA 3 tinggal aku sama Hyerin.
Awalnya kami ga ngomong sama sekali.
Aku ambil sapu di pojokan, mulai nyapu dari belakang. Dia di depan, ngelap papan tulis pake kain basah.
Aku ga nengok ke dia, dia juga ga nengok ke aku. Kayak ada tembok tak keliatan di tengah kelas.
Sampai tiba-tiba Hyerin ngejatuhin plastik sampah gede yang dia pegang. Plastiknya sobek pas kena ujung meja, sampah berhamburan: bungkus mi instan, kertas tissue bekas, botol air mineral kosong, sampe coretan kertas tugas yang udah robek-robek.
Dia bengong sebentar, mukanya merah, buru-buru jongkok ngumpulin.
Aku liat dari jauh. Sebentar aku mikir: cuekin aja, ini bukan urusan aku. Tapi gatau kenapa kakiku gerak sendiri.
Aku taruh sapu, jalan ke arah dia, jongkok di sebelahnya. Tanpa ngomong apa-apa, aku mulai bantu ngumpulin sampah yang berserakan.
Tangan kami senggolan pas ambil botol yang sama. Aku langsung narik tangan, dia juga. Tapi kami tetep deket banget sekarang, bahu hampir nyentuh, lutut hampir nempel.
“Maaf… aku ceroboh,” katanya pelan, suaranya hampir ga kedengeran.
“Gapapa,” jawabku singkat, masih nunduk ngumpulin kertas.
Kami ngumpulin dalam diam. Bau parfum vanilanya yang dulu aku suka banget tiba-tiba kecium lagi, samar-samar, campur bau keringet sore.
Aku coba tahan napas, fokus ke sampah. Tapi pas aku angkat plastik sobek yang gede, tangan kami senggolan lagi, kali ini lebih lama. Jari kelingkingku nyentuh punggung tangannya. Dingin.
Aku nengok sekilas. Mukanya deket banget. Rambutnya yang biasanya rapi sekarang agak acak-acakan gara-gara jongkok, beberapa helai nempel di pipi. Matanya merah tipis, kayak abis nangis atau cuma capek. Dia nengok balik, mata kami ketemu.
Ga ada yang ngomong. Cuma tatapan yang lama banget, kayak waktu berhenti.
“Kenapa lo bantu?” tanyanya tiba-tiba, suara pelan banget.
Aku angkat bahu. “Biar cepet.”
Dia nyengir tipis, tapi ga seneng. “Dulu kamu pasti langsung lari bantuin aku kalau ada apa-apa. Sekarang… kamu cuek banget.”
Aku diem. Ga tahu harus jawab apa. Dia lanjut ngomong, tangannya masih megang plastik sampah, tapi ga gerak lagi.
“Aku tahu lo sekarang pacaran sama Summer. Semua orang ngomongin. Kamu berubah banget. Badan, cara jalan, cara ngomong… semuanya. Aku liat story kalian. Kamu keliatan bahagia.”
Aku tarik napas dalam. “Iya. Aku bahagia.”
Dia nunduk lagi, ngumpulin sisa kertas. “Aku… aku ga nyangka bakal nyesel gini.”
Kata itu kayak ditonjok. Aku berhenti gerak. “Nyesel?”
Dia ga langsung jawab. Dia berdiri pelan, bawa plastik sampah yang udah penuh ke tong di belakang kelas. Aku ikut berdiri, nunggu dia ngomong.
Pas dia balik, matanya merah, kayak nahan nangis. “Aku nolak kamu karena aku takut. Kamu terlalu… serius. Kamu selalu ada, selalu perhatiin aku, selalu ngasih perhatian. Aku ga biasa. Aku pikir kamu terobsesi, nyebelin. Aku bilang gitu karena aku ga tahu gimana nanggepin orang yang bener-bener suka aku.”
Dia usap mata pake lengan baju seragam. “Terus kamu berubah. Kamu ga lagi nengok aku, ga lagi nyapa, ga lagi apa-apa. Awalnya aku lega. Tapi lama-lama… aku kangen. Aku sadar aku kehilangan sesuatu yang sebenarnya aku butuhin.”
Aku cuma bisa berdiri di situ, ga gerak. Dada rasanya sesak, tapi bukan karena masih suka. Lebih ke… kasian. Kasian sama dia yang sekarang keliatan rapuh.
“Summer… dia beda sama aku,” lanjutnya. “Dia kuat, pede, ga takut ngomong apa adanya. Kamu dapet dia karena kamu juga berubah jadi kayak gitu. Aku… aku cuma bisa liat dari jauh. Dan sekarang aku ngerasa bodoh banget.”
Dia maju selangkah. Kami deket banget lagi. Bau parfumnya lebih kuat. Aku bisa liat bulu matanya yang basah, bibirnya yang gemeter kecil.
“Kamu masih… benci aku?” tanyanya pelan.
Aku geleng kepala pelan. “Aku ga benci. Aku cuma… udah move on.”
Dia nyengir getir. “Bagus. Kamu pantas dapet yang lebih baik.”
Dia mundur, ambil tasnya dari meja guru. “Aku duluan ya. Sampahnya tinggal lo bawa ke belakang aja.”
Aku ngangguk. Dia jalan ke pintu, tapi berhenti di ambang pintu. Nengok ke belakang sekali lagi.
“Makasih udah bantuin tadi,” katanya. “Dan… selamat ya, sama Summer. Dia beruntung punya kamu.”
Dia pergi. Pintu ditutup pelan. Ruang kelas jadi sepi banget.
Aku berdiri di situ lama. Ga langsung gerak. Aku cuma ambil napas panjang, ambil plastik sampah, bawa ke belakang kelas, buang ke tong besar.
Pas aku keluar gerbang sekolah, matahari udah mulai turun. HP bergetar. Pesan dari Summer.
“Udah selesai piket? Aku nunggu di depan gym nih. Bawa protein shake dua, yang cokelat buat kamu. Cepetan, aku kangen 😘”
Aku senyum sendiri. Balas cepet: “Lagi otw. Tunggu bentar ya.”
Aku jalan ke arah halte angkot, langkah ringan. Ga ada beban lagi di dada. Hyerin tadi… itu cuma penutup. Bukan pembuka babak baru.
Aku udah punya cerita baru. Dan cerita itu lagi nunggu aku di gym, pake tanktop hitam, senyum lebar, siap koreksi squat aku sambil nepuk-nepuk pinggang.
Aku naik angkot, duduk di belakang, headset nyala. Lagu yang diputer cuma satu, lagu yang Summer kirim minggu lalu, katanya “ini lagu kita”.
The summer before high school, you planned out everything: how you’d come out of your shell, how you’d make a name for yourself, how you’d become popular and well-liked and join the soccer team and maybe try to make it to the varsity team. By the time you accepted your high school diploma, exactly none of those goals came to pass: you made a couple of friends, none of whom were going to the same college as you; you only joined one club for one year for all of high school, and that was the math club in your senior year; you didn’t even try to run for any student council positions, although you did know a friend of the student treasurer in your senior year; you ended up chickening out before the soccer tryouts even started and ended up doing cross-country, which, to be fair, you quite enjoyed.
In other words, you were pretty much a nobody. You left high school having demonstrated exactly zero exceptional qualities about you, memorable traits or defining moments, that would make someone in your graduating class remember you. But honestly, you don’t really care; not because you don’t like your graduating class, or because you didn’t like high school, but because, by senior year, you realized how shallow those goals were.
So, you enter college with no such goals. All that’s on your mind is to study well, find a few friends that you can relax and hang out with, that you would feel comfortable drinking for the first time on your 21st birthday with, and have a good time. Nothing grand, no lofty ambitions. Just, have fun, learn a thing or two, and graduate.
It’s funny how the universe seems to always work against you.
“Oh! You’re…”
You thought no one from your high school chose to go to your choice of college. Then again, you didn’t really ask around for such information.
“…Alien-guy. The one who said, that one time, that to believe that aliens don’t exist is preposterous!”
So, maybe, apparently, there was something memorable you did. And to be remembered by Kang Seulgi, the person who achieved every single one of your self-set goals in high school by her junior year, is perhaps its own achievement.
Then again, maybe not; Seulgi was known to be the nicest girl in school. Nominated for Prom Queen and almost winning despite doing zero work for it, so you heard; making it to the varsity team for volleyball by sophomore year; known by and friends with students from all years, she did it all. Even you had your own positive experiences with her, being grouped together with her for an AP European History project on Rousseau and his impact on the Age of Enlightenment, and being smiled to and waved at a few times in the hallways on occasion afterwards. But that was it. Kang Seulgi was … well, Kang Seulgi. And you knew it. You had no delusions of her friendliness, of why she smiled and waved at you so much, why she sat next to you for the first few days of the math class you both took as seniors. She’s just Kang Seulgi, the nicest girl at school. There’s nothing to read into.
“Huh. Is that my legacy from high school?”
Seulgi laughs. “I’m so sorry! I’m terrible with names. I’m Kang Seulgi, by the way!”
As if you could forget. But you don’t say that. Instead, you remind her your name, and Seulgi apologizes for forgetting it in the same way she might apologize for accidentally kicking your dog, so you shrug it off by saying, “I didn’t know you chose this college.”
“And I didn’t know you chose this one! Why didn’t you tell me?!”
Although the smile never leaves Seulgi’s eyes, the slight bit of disappointment in the shift of the smile on her lips and her cheeks makes you wonder if she actually thinks it was reasonable for you to just walk up to her back in high school and ask her what college she chose, and then promptly inform her that you chose the same one. “Never really had the chance to.”
“I’m so glad that I know someone here. It’s so exciting to be someplace new, but also sorta scary, isn’t it?”
That, you have to agree on. Ordinarily, talking to someone so insanely attractive like Kang Seulgi would’ve been intimidating, but her friendly demeanor disarms any apprehension that might’ve otherwise frozen your vocal cords. “None of your friends came with you?”
“I knoow right?” You withhold a chuckle at Seulgi’s whine. “They’re so mean! I begged them so much too, but the ones who also got accepted here all said that it was too far away.”
“Yeah, but it’s sorta nice being far from home.”
“Yeah, yeah!” The way Seulgi’s eyes light up as she agrees with you … for a second or five, you forget how to breathe. “I think so too! And the campus is soo pretty!”
Fortunately, Seulgi doesn’t seem to notice your pause. “Yeah, it really is.” These kinds of girls, with their otherworldly beauty, who act like they don’t know how much a simple smile, especially such a radiant one, affects others. Well, actually, Seulgi is the only one you know that you would classify as an ‘otherworldly beauty’. Maybe it’s just a Seulgi thing. Still, she ought to wield that weapon more responsibly and intent.
“What do—”
“Alright, everyone!” The booming voice of the professor entering the massive lecture hall silences Seulgi, who turns her attention to the front of the room. You do the same. “Welcome to college! Unless, do we have any poor souls who have an earlier class?” A few hands shoot up, and a collective, sympathetic laugh-groan fills the lecture hall. “I’m so sorry to you all.”
“It’s ok, I’m a morning person!” shouts one amongst the raised hands.
“Oh.” The clear disdain in the professor’s voice and face brings about more laughter in the class. “Well then. I’m … even more sorry to hear that.” The professor’s response is met with more laughter. “Anyway, welcome to Biology 101!”
It doesn’t change anything, though. So what, Kang Seulgi, the most popular girl in high school and generally likeable human being, sat next to you in one of your classes? It doesn’t mean anything. Just like in your math class last year, she’ll probably sit next to you for the first few days, and by the second week, will migrate to sitting next to the friends she’ll have made. And the world will return to normalcy.
Except, it doesn’t. Because, later that day, you see Seulgi again. In one of your classes, again. This time, it’s you who notices her first, entering the classroom from the back and seeing the unmistakable side profile of Kang Seulgi, shuffling around in her orange backpack in search of something. Should you greet her? It’s almost inevitable that she’ll realize you’re in this class with her, right? It’s a relatively small class too, very unlike the massive lecture hall your previous class together was located in. Would she find it off-putting? Well, even if she did find it that way, she wouldn’t let it show on her face. Is there really a reason to say ‘hi’? To be polite, you presume, but…
You feel your body stiffen up as you see her turn around.
Shit. Did she notice me staring? She’ll definitely think I’m a creep.
“Oh!” You can’t say you’re surprised, really, by her friendly reaction. What you are surprised about is just how incredibly jubilant she is to see you again. “You’re in my Calc 3 class too?!”
No known force in the universe can stop the smile that blossoms on your face. “Yeah, looks like it.”
“No waay! Oh my gosh, I heard horror stories of Calc 3 from my college friends, but now I get take it with one of the smartest guys in our math class last year, I feel so much better!”
As you make your way to Seulgi’s seat, the guy sitting in front of her turns around. “Oh, really? So, you’re sorta the shit, huh?”
Maybe it’s you that’s looking at the glass half-empty, but you swear you can hear a hint of snark in his voice. Like he’s puffing out his chest, trying to size you up. Not that you really care about meeting his challenge, of course. He’s free to have Seulgi all to himself. “I don’t think so…”
“Oh please, he’s being humble. He got a 5 on the AP Calc BC test.”
“…how do you know that?”
“One of my friends heard from our teacher.”
So maybe that’s another, albeit slightly niche, ‘legacy’ of yours from high school. Or, maybe this is just Seulgi being the social butterfly she is.
“No shit! So did I!”
“Oh, really?”
Seulgi doesn’t seem to detect the chest-puffing that the guy, who you learn is named Justin, is doing. As you plop down next to her, the two of them blast off in conversation about the AP test, studying for it, and what they’ve heard about Calc3 online, with Justin eventually coming around and sitting on the other side of Seulgi. She pulls you into the conversation here and there, but you try to, as subtly as you can, stay out of it. It’s as clear that Justin has an interest in Seulgi as it is that he views you as a threat, so you try to make yourself as small as possible. You’re no threat, you want to tell him, you’re just someone who happened to have gone to high school with her.
It’s no surprise that, by the second week of your Bio101 class, Kang Seulgi is sitting next to a girl who she’s happily chatting up. What is a surprise is that, just as you’re about to slot yourself into a few rows behind her, she turns around, and, upon meeting your eyes, lights up.
“Oh! Over here!” The girl that’s sitting next to Seulgi, you learn, is named Irene, and it’s when you’re able to see her face-to-face that you realize you may have to update your list of ‘otherworldly beauties’. Irene is considerably more reserved than Seulgi, but is by no means a slouch when it comes to beauty, herself.
“Did you do the reading?”
“Hm? There was reading?”
“Well, the professor said it was optional, but I get the idea that it’s like, ‘optional’. You know? Like, how the reading in AP Euro was always ‘optional’, but how you could never understand what was happening in class unless you followed along?”
You laugh at that. “Right. Well, I hope the professor doesn’t expect us to be that studious, being only the first week and all.”
With Seulgi, you find it easy to speak freely. With Irene, it feels nearly impossible, not because she feels impossible to approach, with how soft-spoken and gentle she seems to be, but because she feels intimidating in another way. Like, it’s forbidden for you to speak to her, like she’s a high priestess or maybe even divinity itself, and you are not worthy to be in her presence. Maybe this would be how Seulgi would feel to talk to if that friendliness she positively exudes vanishes.
It also doesn’t take more than a week to confirm Justin’s intentions with Seulgi, and you can’t help but feel that Seulgi’s friendliness is feeding into it, too. Is it intentional? The way she speaks to Justin isn’t dissimilar at all to how she speaks with you. Or at least, from what you can tell. And upon the most barebones investigation, the possibility that Seulgi is intentionally leading Justin on is tossed out the window; she’s definitely too nice for that. At the tail end of the second week, when Justin recommends studying together for the upcoming exam in a month, Seulgi is the one who tells you that you’re coming along. Justin doesn’t let his dissatisfaction show on his face, but he doesn’t have to; you know he would rather you not be there.
To you, it’s crystal clear what Justin is trying to do. Seulgi, be it blissful or willing ignorance, doesn’t address it even slightly.
You consider calling in sick that day to give Justin some alone time with Seulgi. It’s more annoying than anything, how Justin seems so guarded around you. But, at the same time, you can’t really just tell him, especially since you two never talk just amongst yourselves. Also, who studies for an exam an entire month in advance?
But when you text Seulgi that you aren’t coming, she insists on coming over to help take care of you, so you have to awkwardly brush it off and tell her that, you know what, it’s not that bad, and in fact, you’ll come anyway, it’s no big deal. When you arrive, you see Seulgi happily waving over at you, and next to her at the table, sure enough, is an expression on Justin’s face that betrays his intentions. Seulgi briefly inquires about how you feel, and you play it off as no big deal. The hostility from Justin seems to dissipate slightly at that, but only slightly.
Two hours later, the three of you call it quits, and Justin invites Seulgi to eat at the nearby Mexican place with him. When Seulgi insists that you come along, Justin chimes in, saying that, since you’re sick, you ought to go home and get some rest, adding in that he’ll bring you dinner after they’re done. What he’s actually saying to you is clear as day: fuck off, and I’ll buy you dinner.
You have your concerns: you caught Justin unabashedly looking at Seulgi’s thighs, which are especially on display due to how obscenely short her shorts are, and how, despite Justin’s brazenness, Seulgi doesn’t even seem to notice. Is she just extremely studious, or is she oblivious? It’s not your place to know what’s best for Kang Seulgi, nor do you have any obligation to act as her ‘white knight’ … and, it’s not like Justin really seems like a rapist, either. Do you need to be worried about them? Plus, it is a free meal. Who are you, a broke college student, to deny a free meal?
So, you ultimately end up excusing yourself, deciding you don’t want to endure another hour or so of Justin trying to pretend like you don’t exist as politely as possible. It ends up being Irene that you end up hearing about it, of all sources. You’re a bit taken aback when she immediately starts talking as you take your seat, but as she continues, you can tell why.
“I saw Seulgi walking with a boy, so I went to greet her, and it turned out, they were going back to his apartment.” Oh. What the— “I was a little suspicious, so I asked him about his roommate, and he said something about asking him to be somewhere else for the next few hours.” Oh. Oh no. Did you misjudge Justin? “I was able to stop it, but … was Seulgi always so … oblivious?”
So, it’s not only you. On one hand, you feel vindicated for being right, at least somewhat, about Justin, but on the other hand, you’re kicking yourself. If you were suspicious of him, then you should obviously wedge yourself between them at any chance you get, especially since Seulgi doesn’t seem to mind. You even had another chance to do so, when Justin dropped the food off at your door, whispering a quick, “thanks, man,” before handing you the food and whisking off. And the result of that? If Irene hadn’t been there to interpose … you don’t want to consider it.
“I’m not really sure.”
“Hm? I thought you were friends with her in high school.”
“Not really, no. We sometimes waved to each other in the halls, but she waved at pretty much everyone in school.”
Irene pursed her lips. “Hm … I really got the impression that you two were close friends, at least.”
Leave it to Seulgi to talk to another person about someone like you as if you were her close friend. It isn’t much later that Seulgi herself arrives, and none the wiser either. The topic of Justin doesn’t come up again, and having Seulgi ask you where Justin is in your Calc3 class later that day affirms this for you: Seulgi is too pure for this world. You aren’t her ‘white knight’, and the idea that you, of all people, should protect her is cringe-inducing at best and pretentious at worst, but it’s pretty clear that it needs to be done. You can’t bear the thought of someone taking advantage of Seulgi’s kindness, and, selfishly, you don’t ever want this part of Kang Seulgi, her overwhelming friendliness that borders on naivete, to vanish due to someone using it for their own selfish purposes.
It doesn’t take long after Justin that it starts happening more and more: you acquire Irene’s aid, but it’s not like you two can babysit Seulgi forever. It doesn’t help that she’s living in a single, meaning you can’t even enlist the help of a roommate to your cause. Instead, it’s you happening upon her at the fountain near the science building, chatting away with some guy who is very clearly taking every chance he can to look at Seulgi’s exposed midriff, and going out of your way to greet her. Or, it’s you seeing her at a café she introduced you to second week after classes started and seeing the guy talking to her being a little too touchy, hands dangerously close to her torso, but Seulgi never seeming to really notice. Or, it’s a bunch of other stories from Irene, who you’ve had to exchange numbers with in this pursuit of protecting Seulgi, all of this slowly, but surely, leading up to you making any and all excuses to hang out with Seulgi so that you can keep an eye on her.
Of course, Seulgi doesn’t seem to catch on to your intentions, and in fact seems to be happy that you’re inviting her to eat lunch and chill at the nearby rec center before heading to your Calc3 class, that you’re looking for every single hang-out location downtown to bring her and Irene to on the weekends. You might’ve felt slightly self-conscious before, so shamelessly inviting someone like Kang Seulgi to all these places, but this isn’t about yourself. It’s about Seulgi, and making sure nothing undue happens to her.
And so, the first year passes like that: Irene and you, along with a few other of Seulgi’s friends that were enlisted—all of whom were females, despite Seulgi having no shortage of male friends. You suspect it has something to do with Irene, who quickly established herself as Seulgi’s best friend but, for some reason, isn’t the one being asked to room with her in the following year. With her connections, Seulgi manages to snag one of the most highly-sought-after apartments on campus, and of all people, Seulgi asks you to be her roommate.
“Me? What about Irene?”
“She was the one who told me to ask you. She said she already has an apartment for next year, but she says that it’s close by, though!”
Over this year, you have learned all sorts about Seulgi that makes you realize how easy it is for her to, without meaning to, attract someone. Above all else, Seulgi is extremely affectionate and clingy, finding every excuse to hug and hold the hands of her friends. Of course, there’s her stunning beauty and her dazzling eye-smile that causes heart palpitations to all manner of people, but there’s also her outgoing, sunny personality that draws people in like a nickel to a super magnet. The way she dresses, too, tends to show off her nice figure: her slim waist, her toned midriff, her milky-smooth legs, and the number of tight shirts that she has, that you swear have been growing over the year … you really do try not to look, but are only mostly successful in doing so. Thankfully, you haven’t caught the ire of Irene, who somehow either hasn’t noticed you stealing a few glances, or is otherwise pretending not to notice, despite the number of guys you’ve caught her glaring at that were looking a bit too hard at Seulgi. You can’t really blame Irene for glaring, either; you’ve learned, over the years, to view every man as a potential threat to Seulgi, lest you encounter another scenario where you find a close male friend of hers getting a bit too close to a black-out-drunk Seulgi while clearly recovering from a hangover himself. Upon further questioning, Seulgi revealed that it was her who pushed them to drink so much, although she refused to disclose what they were talking about and why it warranted such alcohol consumption. Maybe it was just you being paranoid; from how it appeared, it did look like he was about to do something to her, but thinking back, you realize it’s also plausible that he was trying to check in on Seulgi.
“But … I’m a guy…?”
Seulgi laughs. “I know that, silly! The building is co-ed. Unless…” Seulgi’s voice diminishes real quick real fast, and you start to panic slightly. Is it some expression on your face that you aren’t aware of? Maybe you shouldn’t have said that? “…you don’t want to?”
What? That’s what she’s worried about?
This Seulgi woman … did you ever mention she’s too pure for this world?
“Well, I mean, I was thinking about getting into one of the dorms closer to the center of campus, but I haven’t really applied for any of them yet.”
“So?” Seulgi’s voice is back to the happy, chipper tone you’re used to. You breathe an internal sigh of relief. Whatever it was, it seemed to have passed just as quickly as it arrived. “You’ll join me?!”
It’s true that being Seulgi’s roommate will make it easier to keep an eye out on her. But the question remained: what about your own sanity? Spending this much time with someone who was gradually becoming well-known on campus, in various social circles and as an up-and-coming volleyball player on the bench of the university’s team, who has been confessed to so many times that Seulgi has stopped crying to you about how bad she feels about rejecting yet another person, you’ve gotten as used to her as any straight man can. But, the prospect of living with a woman so strikingly, dangerously attractive and effortlessly, obliviously alluring, in your mind, is a combination made in hell that’s designed to test your patience and restraint to the max.
You’ve already decided that you, of all people, will never do anything to Seulgi. For whatever reason, you seem to be the only man close to Seulgi that Irene tolerates, even to the degree that she’ll talk about Seulgi’s male friends to you behind their backs. To act on any impulses, to fall for her in any way, is a betrayal of Irene’s trust in you, and more importantly, is a betrayal of your own morales.
“Um…”
“Please, please, please, pleaaaase?”
When Seulgi uses those puppy-dog-eyes on you, there’s nothing you can do but to acquiesce to her request. And as Seulgi squeals and hugs you in celebration, you reinforce this idea in your head: you will never, ever, for any reason whatsoever, do anything to Seulgi. You’re just there to protect her. You’re there to chase off anyone who would have bad intentions with her. Irene is counting on you.
“Thank you!! Next year is gonna be soo much fun!”
Seulgi’s joy is infectious, and eventually, you find yourself grinning stupidly along with her. “You’re really that lonely, living by yourself, huh?”
She nods. “I thought it would be fun to do that at first, but…” you know. There have been no shortages of nights that Seulgi has spent at your, or Irene’s, or any of her female friends’, place. You live in a male dorm, though, and have repeatedly tried to get it into her head that her coming over to a place filled with men is a bad idea, especially since those men often give you shit for being so close to her, having been asked on more than one occasion, “So, how’s her pussy?”, a question you always shoot down with a glare and a following, “We’re just friends bro, what the fuck?” The night always ends with you walking her home and her begging you to stay at her place for just a little bit longer, and seeing her pleading with you almost always makes you freeze at the door, but this is the one line you told yourself you would never cross.
So much for that.
“…it’s just, there are times when I want to watch a movie with someone, you know? Or just, talk with about things, and whenever I’m doing homework, it’s nice to be able to take a break from it with someone or scratch their brain about it.”
“Well, you can always use ChatGPT.”
“But it’s not the same! I can’t hug ChatGPT after it helps me, I can’t look at ChatGPT in the eyes and know that it’s really, truly listening and empathizing with me, I can’t—”
“I know, I was kidding.”
“…oh…” Seulgi pouts again and lightly slaps your shoulder, “…meanie.”
“Well, do I have to sign a lease or something?”
“Yeah!” And just like that, Seulgi’s mood turned around completely. “I’ll email you the link for you to sign. Ooh, I can’t wait!!”
There are a few things that you’re worried about, first and foremost being how clumsy Seulgi is: it’s like the universe decided to balance out her insane attractiveness, her magnetically friendly disposition, her bubbliness that can always put a smile on even the most unwilling face, with this one fault, and it only makes her cuter. Her incredible knack for finding something to knock over, or to trip over nothing, is truly astounding; you sometimes wonder how she’s been able to get through life in one piece, not to mention how she manages to stay so positive and happy-go-lucky. Another is the two modes she has: her usual mode, in which she’s smiling and clumsy and very affectionate and caring; and her serious mode, in which she becomes completely unrecognizable, and one that you definitely don’t find sexy in any way, and it’s definitely not something you—
Yeah, this is going to be a problem.
And in the first week or two after moving in with her, your fears are validated. It turns out, there’s even more to learn about Seulgi, like how she seems to dress up at home at all times, wearing outfits that don’t seem particularly comfortable, and how she can’t stand not being in makeup, even going so far as to hide her bare face the few times you’ve accidentally caught her in the morning, walking to her bathroom. Even more so than last year, Seulgi intrudes on you, walking into your room and asking to watch a movie together or play a game together or try a dessert she bought on the way home together or just sit in the living room and talk about stuff together.
After learning about how you usually did your meals, Seulgi starts insisting that the two of you cook your meals for every dinner, with the expense for ingredients being split evenly. “Look at us, cooking together like a ma—”
A silence stretching almost a full minute follows. Why couldn’t you hear the rest of the sentence? Did the noise of the stove fan overpower her? “…hm?” You look over at Seulgi, who is chopping up some green onions at the moment. “Sorry, I couldn’t hear, what did you say?”
“Nothing!” Seulgi doesn’t turn to face you, but you swear you can see the tip of her ear being slightly pinker than usual.
It hasn’t even been an entire month, but it feels like these kinds of instances happen not infrequently. You don’t really know how to describe them: it’s like Seulgi tries to do something, or say something, but stops herself. Is she just being conscious of you? Because you’re a guy? You don’t know how to ask her about it, either, because you don’t even know what is it you want to ask. It does feel like Seulgi does get flustered more easily than you originally figured, although it’s more understandable to be flustered about the next incident. You’ve just finished taking a shower and, after getting out, realized you didn’t grab a new shirt. So, you dry yourself off, put on boxers and your shorts, and go to your room with your old shirt in hand, only to run into Seulgi.
“Oh!”
“Oh, Seulgi—” For a split second, you swear you could’ve seen her eyes bulge out of their sockets. Her gaze lingers for a brief second, or so it feels like to you, before she diverts her gaze to the side, then the ground. “—sorry, I just forgot a shirt, so…”
“A-Ah, really? Um, it’s ok.”
Again, Seulgi makes sure not to show you her face, but you swear you can just barely make out a slight bit of redness at the tip of her ears. But, that’s normal, isn’t it? It doesn’t mean anything. Any girl would react in such a way if they happened upon her shirtless male friend. Most likely, it’s just her reacting that way out of shock not anything else. Certainly not because she is impressed or attracted to you or anything.
You didn’t really think much of it. One of the reasons you decided to take on this endeavor is because you felt you were already accustomed to being close to Seulgi. Physically, that is: hugging, holding hands, feeling her chin resting on your shoulder to watch a video you’re showing her, even more mundane things like sharing utensils and getting a matching bag accessory. It has definitely not been good for your heart, but accustoming yourself to it has been more of a matter of survival than anything else. Whether you like it or not, Seulgi is going to be physically affectionate, so the question is simply: how soon can you get used to it? The answer turned out to be about eight months.
Or at least, that’s what the answer was. Now that you’re living with her, you’re unsure.
You can’t even blame summer break because, although few and far between, you still met up with Seulgi a few times in the two-month span, coming from the same city and all. It’s just … the increased frequency at which close-ness happens. You really did think that you had a grasp on how to calm yourself around Seulgi, but it turns out, seeing her sleepily wish you goodnight or grocery shopping with her or taking an occasional post-dinner walk together makes it really hard to keep a cool head at all times. Constantly reminding yourself your purpose in rooming with her and to keep your delusions in your head … it’s only been two weeks, but it already feels exhausting. How are you supposed to survive, what, nine more months of this?
Given that you and Seulgi are doing different majors, you’re at least given some reprieve during classes. However, you soon learn that, in fact, Irene is in a fair amount of your classes. How you didn’t know Irene was doing your major with how much time you spent with her and Seulgi, you aren’t sure. Thankfully, it does give the two of you some time to strategize in your protect-Seulgi strategy.
“Thank you, by the way.”
If Seulgi is an energetic puppy, Irene is a graceful cat. Seulgi’s energy bounces off the walls; she illuminates the room she’s in, and her smile inevitably gets transferred onto the faces of others. With Irene, she’s softer. More graceful, regal, even. Irene’s presence seems to calm everything around her down, to a point where one starts to realize how horribly out of place one is being so close to her.
“Hm? For what?”
“For agreeing to be Seulgi’s roommate.”
And when she smiles at you, you feel your heart skip a few beats.
These otherworldly beauties, so haphazardly using their absolutely radiant, heart-stopping smiles like it’s no big deal. First Seulgi, now Irene; they really needed to learn to reel it in, lest they give you heart problems. They really do ought to use them with more responsibility and intent. It’s just a smile, but you swear you almost fell for Irene right then and there.
“She’s a handful, isn’t she?”
You laugh. “A little bit. The other day, she forgot about the thing she was cooking and I swear, nearly set off the fire alarm. We had to open every single window in the apartment to vent out the smoke.”
Irene laughs. It’s a truly musical sound, and the sight is one to behold as well: her perfectly proportional, perfectly symmetrical features light up, with her eyes disappearing into slits and her lips parting into laughter, and it’s all but inevitable that you join in with her as well.
“That does sound like Seulg—”
“Hey, what are you talking about?”
Irene lets out a shriek, jumping as Seulgi pats her shoulder. Irene head whips around and sighs upon seeing her best friend’s face. “Oh my gosh, it’s just you.”
“It’s just me! So, what were you talking about?”
“Hm? Oh, nothing!” As Irene responds, she starts making some space between the two of you. Not that you mind, but you do notice it. “We were just studying for an upcoming exam.”
Seulgi guffaws. “Already?!”
Irene nods and pouts along with her best friend. “I know, right?”
“Well, if he’s your study partner,” Seulgi nods at you, “then you’re sure to ace the exam.”
Irene nods. “Yeah, that’s why I’m not that worried about it.”
“Wow, that’s a lot of pressure you’re putting on me there.”
“It’s not fair.”
“Hm?” Irene directs an inquisitive gaze towards Seulgi, who is looking at you.
“I want to study with you too, but Irene’s stealing you from me.”
It’s so difficult. It’s so damn difficult to not get the wrong idea when Seulgi says stuff like this, pouting like she’s genuinely jealous. Does the universe expect your heart not to skip three beats at that?
“Well, too bad~” Irene replies in a singsong voice, sticking her tongue out at Seulgi. “You have Wendy to help you study, anyway.”
“Yeah! Wendy’s really smart, too. You should be even more confident with her as your study partner.”
And you swear, Seulgi looks a little bit disappointed upon hearing you say that. Even though you’re one-hundred percent sure Wendy is much, much smarter than you. “…it’s not about that…” is what she responds to you with, or at least, that’s what you thought she said.
“Hm?”
“I said, you’re right about that!” Oh, so you did mishear.
But when Seulgi flashes you with a beaming smile, you feel like you can also see a similarly disappointed expression on Irene’s face.
You have more female friends than male friends—that is to say, you only have one male friend, the rest being female friends of Seulgi’s. That fact does come with some perks: they are more than willing to throw compliments around like it’s nothing, they always have your back when any issue arises, and they’re always ready to talk about anything and everything that you wanted to talk to them about. But this is one of the negatives: it feels like, sometimes, there are hidden motives, or secret messages or meanings in their words that you can never quite catch on to. It’s something that you have been desperately trying to get better at, which Seulgi gives you a fair number of late-night conversations to improve at, such two nights after the exam.
“You know Annie?”
“Yeah, the one who’s always asking you to join the dance team.”
“Yeah.” From just her tone, you can tell that something’s wrong. But that’s just the basics. In an effort to improve your mind-reading skills, you’ve started to play a little game: can you guess what Seulgi’s about to say just from the tone of her voice and the look on her face? Seulgi is a woman who wears her emotions on her sleeves, someone who can’t lie to save her own life, so it theoretically should be easy to get in the right ballpark, but your record is still pretty bad.
What would it be this time? Maybe it has something to do with the dance team? Did it disband recently?
“Terry, someone from the male dance team, asked me out earlier.” Well, looks like you were completely wrong again. “And I rejected him.” You reach out and pat her hand as she speaks. “But Annie, who has a crush on him, was with me when it happened.” It’s truly astonishing, how empathetic Seulgi is. Of course, there’s the obvious matter of having to reject the confession of the crush of one of your friends, but she also genuinely looks guilty. Like, as if she could’ve done something about it. “I … didn’t know what to do. I just…” a tear falls down her cheek, her voice warbles, and she lets out a sniffle. “…I just feel so bad. I was cheering for them so much, we even had a plan to set them up on a date next week, but…”
“It’s ok, Seulgi.” Your arm goes around her shoulder to pull her into a half-hug, and Seulgi buries her damp face into your chest. “It’s not your fault.”
“B-But, maybe it was because I insisted on being in charge of gathering information from him. I was so excited for Annie that I didn’t even realize…”
The more she speaks, the more uneven her voice becomes. It’s starting to tug at your own heartstrings, too. “It’s not your fault, Seulgi. Wanting to help your friends is never a bad thing.”
“B-But, but if I just let someone else do that job, maybe that wouldn’t have happened!”
If Terry spent so long with Annie but ended up falling in love with you from spending a handful of minutes here and there over the course of a few weeks, then the chances seemed pretty low for Terry to reciprocate Annie’s feelings. You don’t say that, of course. You may be slightly socially awkward, but you’re not that socially inept. “You don’t control how Terry feels, or who he falls in love with. And who knows? Maybe Annie and Terry’s bond will grow after this.”
“…I don’t want Annie to hate me, though.”
“Why would Annie hate you?”
“Because…”
You asked the question already knowing the answer, but you still ended up asking it. It’s not a very logical train of thought, to dislike your friend for being the recipient of a love confession from your crush, but you also know that love isn’t exactly logical. “But you worked so hard on helping Annie with Terry, didn’t you?” You can feel her nod against your chest. “Give her enough time, and she’ll realize that you were just trying to help. I don’t think she can be mad at you once she realizes that.”
“…really?”
You’re the one that nods this time. The entire time, you’ve been soothingly rubbing her back, but now that she’s looking up at you, from an incredibly close distance, mind you, not only does your hand stop, but so does your brain. Calm down. Get over it. “Yeah.” You can only hope that you aren’t blushing right now. What a wildly inappropriate response, considering how Seulgi’s literally crying in your arms. You try not to let the scolding you’re giving yourself show on your face.
“Promise?”
“I…” you tilt your head in confusion, Seulgi’s response breaking the spell of enchantment her teary eyes placed on you. “…if she doesn’t, then I’ll go talk to her myself.”
Seulgi giggles at that. “Don’t threaten her!”
“I never said I was going to do that.”
“That’s how you made it sound like though.”
You smile again and pat her back a few times for good measure. “But, don’t worry too much about it, ok? From the few times I’ve spoken with Annie, it seemed like she’s a good girl. If she’s mad at you, she’ll forgive you eventually.”
Seulgi nods and sits back up straight. “By the way…” Seulgi directs what you can only describe as an accusatory glare at you. “…Irene.”
“…What about Irene?”
“You see her a lot, don’t you?”
You nod slowly. What’s this about? Does Seulgi maybe want you to protect Irene against potential suitors, like you promised Irene regarding Seulgi? That would certainly be a humorous situation: both best friends asking a third-party, and a guy at that, to protect the other from undue advances from potentially sleezy guys. Although not as frequent, you’re not unaware at how many guys have shot their shot with Irene. “Yeah, I guess. We’re in a lot of the same classes, since there aren’t many people in our major.”
“Hm…” Seulgi, while lightly dabbing her eyes with a tissue to clear them of tears, maintains a steady gaze on you.
“If you’re wondering about if guys ask her out often, I—”
“You really haven’t noticed?”
“…noticed? I guess maybe guys ask her out when I’m not around her, but…”
“No, not that. Irene. About … you.”
Ok, this isn’t where you thought this was going at all. “What about me?”
“Are you serious?”
Did you forget something that happened recently? But, digging through your memory of the past few weeks, you’re coming up blank. “Seulgi, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Irene! She has a crush on you!”
You don’t mean to be rude. The thought of being mean to Seulgi is completely foreign to you. The most you would go would be to tease her, but that’s only because she gives such good reactions due to how simple-minded she tends to be. But, what can you do but laugh at such an outlandish hypothesis? “What?”
“Stop laughing at me like that! I’m serious! I’m her best friend, I would know.”
Is she mistaking all the time you spend together with Irene, strategizing about ways to keep Seulgi safe, as her having feelings for you? But you can’t just tell Seulgi that’s why you’ve been spending so much time with her: how would Seulgi feel if she found out that her friends have been doing this behind her back? She’d feel devastated, that her friends are secretly working so hard for her sake, and that’s not something you want to be on your conscience. “Why would you think that?”
“What do you mean? You two spend so much time together!”
There’s something in her voice, though. Maybe it’s leftover from the tears she was spilling recently. But there’s also something on her face, a lack of the sparkle that appears every time she’s talking about romance. Maybe it’s because it’s awkward, since she’s suspecting her best friend has feelings for another of her close friends? “Well, I mean, it’s just easier to do homework and stuff with someone else, and I know Irene the best out of everyone in our classes, so…”
“How about you? Do you like her back?”
Seulgi doesn’t seem to be listening to you, which seems … out of character? For someone like Seulgi, the very definition of puppy-dog friendliness, who even sat down with a homeless man to listen to his woes once, it isn’t like her to just disregard what you said. Maybe it’s just that she doesn’t buy your excuse.
“I…” Irene is insanely attractive, both outwardly and inwardly. If you just got past her somewhat icy exterior, it’s easy to start falling for her. For anyone else, it might’ve been a forgone conclusion that they fall in love with Irene. Were it not that your heart was already taken, so too might you have. “…I don’t like her romantically, no. But she’s a great friend…?” Ok, now it sounds like you’re friend-zoning Irene. Irene. Irene. Probably more beautiful than most celebrities, has one of the most pleasant voices you’ve ever heard, caring, gentle, kind, can cook, has a natural maternal instinct to take care of her loved ones without any prompting. That Irene. Is it even allowed to friend-zone her?
“Oh.” Seulgi does sound somewhat happy about that. Or perhaps it’s relief that there isn’t going to be anything awkward between two of her close friends.
“Why do you think that Irene has a crush on me?”
Seulgi shrugs. “I can’t really say, but I can just tell.”
In your eyes, it’s Seulgi that Irene so obviously has a crush on. You’re even relatively sure some of Seulgi’s friends suspect the same thing, too. But you aren’t confident enough to say it, so instead, you just say, “That’s not very convincing.”
“Whatever. I know my best friend.”
“…and even if Irene does have a crush on me,” you cringe slightly at that. Even saying it feels wrong. “…should you be telling me about it?”
“Why not? Is there something wrong with wanting two of my best friends to get together if they like each other?”
‘Best friend’, huh. Apparently, you’re the only one who hasn’t picked up on that, of being promoted to one of Seulgi’s best friends, as one of Seulgi’s male friends—the rare one that doesn’t seem to have any romantic interest in Seulgi, or Irene for that matter—asks you about it. Or rather, not that, but something adjacent.
“Are you and Seulgi dating?”
Are you just a rude person? Maybe you are. But honestly, who wouldn’t burst out laughing at such a question? Twice in two weeks has someone suggested something so unrealistic. It’s not like you’re a protagonist in some romcom manga. It’s just too preposterous of an idea to not laugh at.
“What? No, of course not.”
Mark shoots an inquisitive, unbelieving look at you. “I don’t believe you.”
“Wha—why? I swear, I’m not dating Seulgi.” Said woman is currently perusing Banana Republic with some other female friends while you and Mark, who have been dragged along as extra hands to carry bags most likely, are waiting outside. “Ask her, she’ll tell you.”
“Hm…”
“…why don’t you believe me?”
“Well, I mean, you live with her, and I heard that it was Irene who asked you to be her roommate.” Even amongst Seulgi’s friends, Irene has a reputation of being somewhat cold to even Seulgi’s male friends. That, of course, included Mark, although she’s less cold and more indifferent to him by now. “And you were holding hands earlier, and she seems pretty comfy leaning on your shoulder or hugging you out of nowhere…”
You furrow your eyebrows. “What?” What’s so unique about that? “Well, you know.” You intended to leave it at that, but from Mark’s expression, he does not, in fact, seem to know. “That’s just how she is.” And now, it doesn’t seem like Mark is buying it. “You know how physically affectionate Seulgi is.”
“Only to her female friends. And you.”
You frankly can’t believe it. You scan Mark’s face for any signs of teasing, or him trying to do a ‘gotcha!’, maybe to get you to admit your feelings for her. But, there’s nothing. “…really?”
“Yeah, really. I don’t think she’s even tried to hold my hand before, but she just reaches for yours like it’s the natural spot for her hand to be.”
“Ok, you’re exaggerating a little now.”
“What is Mark exaggerating about?”
The two of you jump at the sound of Seulgi’s voice. You’ve apparently gotten so engrossed in the conversation, your mind so blown at the revelation that Seulgi apparently isn’t physically affectionate to any of her other male friends, that you didn’t hear or see her approaching. “Nothing!” Unfortunately, the fact that both you and Mark say that at the same time only makes Seulgi more suspicious.
“No, tell me! Why are you leaving me out?” Seulgi whines, slipping her hands into yours and bumping her shoulder into you. But now that Mark said that tidbit, you’re suddenly a lot more self-conscious of Seulgi. You thought it was something you got over already, how clingy Seulgi is, but the thought that you’re somewhat special to her…?
“Nothing important. Just guy stuff,” Mark replies.
Are your palms sweaty? Oooh no. You can’t suddenly get so self-conscious of her. Not now, not this late into having committed to this whole ordeal, of being the only guy Irene trusted to protect Seulgi. What about Irene’s trust in you? Are you just going to betray her like that?
However self-conscious Mark’s comment makes you of Seulgi, she doesn’t seem to notice at all: not for the rest of the trip to the mall, not after dinner that day when she randomly hugs you from behind while you’re doing the dishes because ‘she was bored’, and certainly not when she’s cuddling up to you, a week later, watching a movie on the couch, with a glass of wine in her other hand.
“That guy … is so oblivious, it’s a little annoying, isn’t it?”
From hearing such a comment coming from Seulgi of all people, you can’t help but let out a little chuckle. “Yeah, it sorta is, huh?” You can feel Seulgi’s eyes land on you, but before you can look back, her eyes are already directed back to the TV screen, taking another sip of her wine. “Isn’t that your second glass? Are you gonna be ok?”
Seulgi nods. “My first class isn’t until 2:00 tomorrow.”
“Right.”
There’s a brief lull, in which you two return your attention back to the movie. Seulgi, for whatever reason, seems pretty dead-set on finishing her second glass of wine, and when she does, she sets it down onto the table and turns towards you. “Does that guy remind you of someone?”
“Huh?” Your eyes go back to the screen, but the more you rack your brain, the more confused you get. Is she trying to precede a story with that question? Maybe recounting something from high school? “Um … I don’t think so?” Seulgi sighs and turns away from you for a second. You watch her do something—collecting herself? “What—” the next moment, Seulgi has turned back towards you, cheeks flushed a deep red but a determined look on her face, and the next, you feel something warm and slightly moist on your lips. You open your eyes, and it’s only then that you even realized you closed your eyes. Seeing Seulgi’s gently closed eyes mere centimeters from yours, feeling the warmth of her face emanating onto yours, the velvety texture of her lips pressing against yours, quivering, a prominent taste of sweetness from her lipstick mixed in with the slight bitterness of the wine she was drinking filling your taste buds.
Wait. Seulgi is kissing…
No. This shouldn’t be how it is. You can’t do this. You’re supposed to protect her, not…
The thought is fleeting, though. You aren’t a lightweight by any means, but the taste of alcohol from Seulgi’s lips causes you to sink into a drunken stupor. Your brain feels like its melting. You can’t get a grip of your surroundings, but at the same time, it feels like every single one of your senses sharpened by a few degrees.
Fuck. Is this happening? Do I smell bad? How do I even kiss? Should I be—
When Seulgi pulls away, you’re still staggering from the sudden kiss. You can’t be drunk from that miniscule amount of alcohol you consumed, right? You didn’t even drink any tonight.
“Sorry, did you not like it…?”
“Hm?” Oh. That brief, instinctual pulling back motion you did.
You move to explain yourself, but Seulgi has already turned away from you, dejected, tears in her eyes. “I’m sorry…”
“No, Seulgi, it wasn’t—”
“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, I-I, I just—” your palm on her cheek silences her. You turn her head to face you; the sight of the tears welling up in her confused eyes tugs at your heartstrings, but it’s enough conviction to follow through by tilting your head and capture her lips in another kiss.
You can tell you’ve caught Seulgi by surprise, but when she finally processes what just happened, she melts into your embrace. Her weight shifts onto you, which you’re ready for by using your free hand to brace her waist, and then starts to lean in to deepen it. The feeling of her soft, sweet, slightly bitter lips moving against yours, needy, desperate, as if she can’t get enough of you, of your warmth, your affirmation and your own desire for her, all of it on top of Seulgi pressing herself onto you, leaning into you, is pushing your senses into overdrive. Your lungs constrict and your chest tightens, and trying to keep up is all you can do from getting utterly consumed by Seulgi. It’s messy and sloppy and wet, and as much as it feels like you’re also melting into Seulgi’s embrace, you can’t help thinking: are you doing this properly? Are you kissing properly? Is Seulgi enjoying it too?
“Mmm…” her muffled moan assuages your doubts, doubly so when her hands loop back around your neck and pull you closer. Your other hand finds her waist, and with how close she already was to you, all that’s left to do is to pull her onto your lap. For a brief moment, Seulgi pulls away to swing her leg to the other side of your lap, straddling you with her legs, and for that brief moment, the two of you share an exasperated, breathless, but exuberant look.
Seulgi is stunning. Her hair slightly unkempt, a tear streaking down her left cheek, but she’s more beautiful than you’ve ever seen her. The ghost of her lips has you yearning for more, but the desire to bathe in her beauty overshadows everything else.
Then, Seulgi giggles. A musical set of notes that sets your heart aflutter. “You stole some of my lipstick.”
You grin back. “Mind if I steal some more?”
Seulgi obliges eagerly, pressing her lips back against yours and her chest against your chest. The warmth from her body, the warmth from her lips, seeps into yours, and as the two of you move in awkward synchronization, you slowly start to lose your sense of self. It feels like you’re melting under her touch, the way she’s pressing herself against you. Her body heat, her soft, warm lips, her eyelashes brushing against your face, puffs of air from her nose landing on your cheek, her legs, her arms, her torso mixed with yours, it’s making your head spin. When she finally pulls away, Seulgi looks as out of it as you are, cheeks dyed a deep red hue. “Should we…?”
Wordlessly, you pick her up and carry her to her bedroom.
Pure BFH for @bunnsfw also if anyone can find that video of haseul where she has the duck and makes the pony tail please send it my way
Receiving a video message from Haseul was like spinning a roulette wheel. Sometimes you’d get her giggling in an oversized hoodie, babbling about a stray cat she saw. Sometimes… you’d get something that made you seriously consider installing parental locks on your own phone.
So when her name popped up with a video attachment, you didn’t open it right away. Not because you weren’t curious—because you were. Too curious. And you knew better than to let her catch you in a vulnerable moment.
Two hours later, in the middle of switching laundry loads, you finally gave in.
The video started innocently enough: Haseul with messy bed hair, her eyes half-lidded, wearing a shirt that looked a suspicious amount like one of yours. She smiled—sweet, almost shy—before holding up a small plush duck to the camera and making it “kiss” the lens. You exhaled, thinking, Okay, safe territory.
Then she reached up, gathering her hair into a ponytail.
Her fingers slid through the strands slowly, deliberately, her gaze never leaving yours. The smile faded into something subtler, heavier. When she tilted her chin up to secure the tie, you caught a glimpse of the curve of her neck, the faint shadow along her collarbone. The change was so sudden—like flipping a switch from Disney to late-night cable—you nearly dropped your phone.
You slammed the screen off before she could finish. Back to laundry. Focus.
A few minutes later, her ridiculous custom ringtone filled the room—her deliberately over-the-top rendition of “Gangnam Style.” You rolled your eyes but answered.
“Hey—”
“Baaaabe,” she drawled in that syrupy, whiny voice. “Why didn’t you say anything nice about my video?”
You tried to keep your tone even. “Because I was folding towels and trying not to die?”
She gasped, feigning offense. “You didn’t even comment on my duck! It was so cute.”
“Oh, the duck was cute,” you agreed. “Right up until you decided to emotionally assassinate me with your hair trick.”
“That wasn’t a trick,” she said, her voice dipping into a lower, almost purring register. “That was a gift.”
You laughed, shaking your head even though she couldn’t see it. “You make me want to do evil things to you, woman.”
Silence—then that giggle, the one that was half-sunshine, half-sin. “Good. That means it’s working.”
“When I get back in our apartment you’d better not be all talk,” you say,
Haseul giggled and said, “only one way to find out,” before hanging up on you.
You groan as she used the bed room tone she mastered leaving you hard at only her words.
“I’m gonna fuck her stupid,” you growl furious
Somehow though you are able to finish the laundry and forget about your minx of a girlfriend for the time being.
You carry the various baskets back to your apartment and open it. You take off your sandles as you try to make sure none of the last hour and half of laundry work doesn’t get undone because it fell to the floor outside.
The smell of Haseul hits you instantly.
Her slutty cinnamon perfume fills your nostrils and reminds you of her little stunt. You set the basket down by the couch and go to the bedroom.
Haseul awaits you on the bed in lacy lingerie that hugs her curves and has you salivating. Her hands gently massage her clit. as she moans your name over and over,”
You don’t even try to tease her. You walk up to Haseul and grab her waist thick thighs pulling her towards you.
Haseul smiles when she feels your hands on her. Your eyes lock and her gaze is pure lust and sex. She smirks and says, “you have me big guy what are you gonna do to me?”
Her smugness pisses you off so you grab her and bring her flush with your crotch.
You move her panties to the side as you slide your sweats down and impale her.
Haseul moans as you fill her. The sudden intrusion both welcome and overwhelming to her. You lift her waist off the bed and begin thrusting.
Haseul moans. Her walls flutter around you while she tries to stay lucid enough to enjoy it.
“Yes!” She moans as you up the pace. Her walls only tighten around you like a vice hoping you’d stay in her forever. You move one of your hands from her waist to her bra which you yank down to grab one of her breasts. You grip and paw the flesh as you watch Haseul lose herself even more.
“Always so needy,” you growl as you feel her walls tighten around you,
“Fuck babe breed me, my body is so ready.” She says as she cums around you. You fuck her through her orgasm though massaging her soft and pliant body.
“You want me to breed this greedy little cunt. Make you the mommy everyone thinks you are?”
“Fuck yes!!!” Haseul moans.
Seeing her so desperate and her cream drowning your cock. You give her what she wants. You cum inside her she moans lewdly as her mind breaks.
“Fuck! fuck! Fuck!” She moans as she sent into another orgasm.
When you’re done cumming you pull out and say, “we’re not done,”
Haseul delirious looks up at you expectantly and you say “get on your knees and get me hard again,”
Haseul moans and nods as you sit on the bed and she gets off. She opens your legs as she pulls your sweats off leaving you bare from the waist down.
Haseul wastes no time taking you in her mouth. She throats your already hardening cock. Glucks and gags fill the room. She smiles around your cock before taking a break.
A string of saliva and precum connect her lips to your tip. She stares at you with her eyes burning and full of lust before she takes you back into her mouth. Her wet tongue wraps around you like a wet snake.
Haseul’s cheek’s hollow as she bobs all around your cock.
You lose track until you realize she’s about to make you cum.
“Seulie stop” you say but when you go to stop her she swats your hand away as she continues bobbing her head around your shaft. You groan as she only seems to double down. Her brow furrowed as she throats you deeper than she ever has.
Eventually it’s too much and you explode in her mouth. Your eyes shut and she smacks you demanding you watch her drink your seed. Her throat constricts around you as her eyes stare into you as if to say, “more”
When you finally finish she opens her mouth to show you she swallowed it all. Seeing her like this you begin to harden again.
Haseul smiles at first stroking you with her hand as she stares at you with this sultry and fucked out looks as she says. “Come on baby breed mommy again. I l know you have it in you,”
You can’t even help it anymore you lift her from beneath you and fold her like a pretzel and impale her again.
She moans and says “atta boy. Fuck Mommy like you fucking mean it,”
You pound her cunt with one purpose filling her to the brim. As you thrust into her she only encourages you more saying things like, “don’t you love how full my body is. How flexible i am. How you can rail me in all these positions?”
Her words make you go blind with lust as you try to reach her womb by force of will.
Haseul smiles when she feels you throb and twitch inside of her,
“Cum in me baby,” she says and her voice sends you over the edge. You spill what feels like a gallon in her, and when you finally pull out she smiles and says, “fuuuck,”
The two of you collapse on the bed and Haseul is back to being chill again.
“So baby how was the laundry?”
“Fine how are you?” You ask.
“I’m feeling a lot better now… what do you want for dinner I was thinking take out tonight,” Haseul replied
“That’s fair,” you respond
Four months later
“What do you mean pregnant?”
Haseul asks.
Her doctor says “yeah with twins,”
Haseul turns to you as the ultra scan shows two little bodies swimming in her tummy.
“Looks like your hiatus will be a bit longer you joke,”
Haseul glares at you and says, “oh just wait till I’m not pregnant anymore,”
(Male Reader x Sua x Gahyun, 4.9k Words) Tags: MILF Sua el Bora, Daughter Gahyun, Its milf hunting time, Vaginal oral anal sex, School drama, Bratty daughters, fat sloppy creampies, protected sex, happy ending
The chill of the morning air fills your lungs as you rush along the pavement, your backpack feeling more than a thousand pounds from all those textbooks and crap, and you rasp as the cold drags along your throat. The bus stop was just down the block, but you are already running late, and so you put a little effort in, unusual for a senior like yourself; your parents would skin you if they had to drive you to school. But the creak of unoiled hinges and shrunken wood draws your attention, as does the woman emerging from the now open doorway in little more than a bathrobe and a towel around her head, "Good morning!" Mrs. Kim Bora yells to you with a jaunty wave, motioning you over, and you swerve to jog up to your neighbor's house, "Thank you, dear," she smiles, "Gah forgot to grab her flashdrive this morning, would you mind giving it to her?" Your head bobs automatically, and Mrs. Bora's smile widens, "Such a good boy... I remember when you and Gah were running around my backyard throwing mud at each other, and now... already a man," she purrs, allowing one hand to cup your cheek fondly, "My daughter and I are such lucky women to have you around..." Mrs. Bora winks, "Now don't miss the bus silly!"
Gahyun glares at you from amongst her coterie as you approach, those pouty lips of hers curled into her usual disdainful expression, "What do you want?" she hisses, thrusting out her chest aggressively, making her pushed-up tits wobble within their confines. Your eyes dart back up to meet her own,
"You forgot your flashdrive," you explain weakly, as always a bit flustered by your childhood friend's abrasive response, and you proffer it. Gahyun snatches it out of your hand and examines it, before sniffing in satisfaction,
"Well, thanks I guess," she says, toying idly with a strand of hair, "Anything else?"
"No. No. Nothing," you reply lamely, and her scowl returns,
"Ugh just fuck off already," Gahyun grumbles, "Couldn't even invite me to your eighteenth birthday party," she mutters to her friends, who glare at you with primal loathing, and you scurry off to your own homeroom class.
The day passes by in a blur, your mind still filled with thoughts about Mrs. Bora ("Sua to my friends!" she would always laugh), unwholesome thoughts to be having about your childhood "friend's" mother. You are pretty sure most of the neighborhood is having unwholesome thoughts about Mrs. Kim Bora. Gregarious, quick to laugh, teasing, keen on wearing revealing outfits, always there to give a supportive word of advise, lavish with her physical affection; it was little wonder a decent portion of the school's population was pumping tissues full of jizz for Gahyun's mom. And also for Gahyun, though you really did not see the appeal. Your cock bulges and shrinks in your jeans as images of Mrs. Bora prances through your head, engaging in all sorts of depraved activities involving you, and you know the moment you get home and lock your door you would be gifting her yet more of your seed.
Your heart is already hammering with excitement as you practically float out of the bus at your stop, your legs hurrying you along the concrete once more, "Eh!" a familiar voice cries out as you near your door, and you stumble as your body recognizes it before your brain does. Flushing guiltily, you raise your head to see Mrs. Bora in the flesh, leaning against her doorway in little more than a nightie and open sweatshirt, her face creased with concern, "Is Gahyun not with you again?" she asks, before cocking her head, "Are you okay, dear? Did I startle you?" You gibber as your brain attempts to flush out all those nasty fantasies that had been marinating in your mind all day, before you manage,
"N-no, Mrs. Bora! I think she left with some friends!"
Mrs. Bora scowls, and you know where her daughter got it from, "That girl!" she huffs, "Is she out with boys again?" and you cough awkwardly. She gives you a knowing look before crooking a finger at you, "You had better come inside then, mister! So I can interrogate you..."
Mrs. Bora's method of interrogation was not, unfortunately, tying you to a chair and sucking you off until your secrets spilled from your lips while your cum spills between hers, but instead sitting you down for a nice cup of tea. Gahyun's mother reclines upon a tasteful couch, one leg crossed over the other, sipping idly at her teacup while her eyes bore into you, sitting gawkily in an armchair next to her. She smiles, "It's been so long since you've been in my living room, I remember you and Gah clambering over everything while she chased you around. You two were so close growing up, what happened?" Well what happened was that Gahyun was a bully as a child, then was a brat, and now was an absolute bitch; but you could hardly tell her mother that,
"We just... drifted apart I guess," you mumble, and Mrs. Bora makes an understanding noise, "she just... has different friends."
"Mmm," her mother muses. "is she still teasing you all the time?"
"Um, uh, not too much these days," you stammer, "she mostly just ignores me!"
Mrs. Bora sighs, "Ah. Boys." and you have nothing to say to that, so you don't.
"So," Mrs. Bora leans forward, and your eyes practically roll down her exposed cleavage, "What's this I hear about a bounty on my daughter's head?" You blanch, this was not going to be easy. Since explaining to a girl's mother that she had gotten caught gangbanging like half the football team, and so enraged most of the cheerleaders, who had put up $237.33 for the first girl to take her to actual pound town, was kind of hard. Your eyeballs rebound back into their sockets as you try and look at anything but the woman in front of you, blood surging back into your head as you try and think of something to say, "Is it... boys?" Mrs. Bora asks gently, and you nod. She raises one finger, and you shake your head. She raises another, and you shake your head. Her eyebrows quirk as she proffers her open hand, and you shake your head. Now her eyebrows reach towards her hairline as she wiggles all ten of her fingers at you, and your head wobbles in response. Mrs. Bora sniffs in amusement, "Well I have no idea where she gets it from," which reveals nothing, since the man of the house was constantly out on business, and Mrs. Bora and Gahyun's actual relation was murky at best. So God knows where Gahyun was getting it from.
Setting her cup down with a clink of ceramic, Mrs. Bora reaches her hand out to your thigh, and you shiver as lighting courses through from this simple touch, even through your jeans, "Thank you, dear, you've always been such a good boy," her fingers curl as she gives your leg a scratch before pausing, giving you a curious look, "Are you quiet alright? You look a little jumpy..." you blubber something incoherent, which only causes her eyebrows to furrow in concern. Mrs. Bora leans forward and presses her forehead against your own, her eyes darting to one side in concentration, which only makes matters worse, "You don't feel warm, what's..." her leans back into her couch as her gaze roams your body, searching for some cause for your sudden awkwardness. Then she spots the bulge in your pants, and her lips part in a silent oh. You were, quite frankly, bricked beyond belief. Mrs. Bora exhales, giving you an understanding smile, "My, what a fine young man you've grown up to be..." her hand remains on your leg, but with glacial slowness starts sliding up it, her voice growing husky, "Why don't you let me... help, with that?" and your head practically vibrates in agreement.
Mrs. Bora gracefully allows her open sweater to slip from her shoulders back onto the leather of the couch, "Have you been with a girl before?" she asks, and you nod, remembering Asa shuddering beneath you, and remembering her leaving you. Mrs. Bora can read the sorrow in your face, and she cups your cheek tenderly, "Girls can be so cruel, and you boys so delicate, is it any wonder that it takes a woman to set things right?" Your spirits rebound, and you flush in agreement, because Kim Bora was certainly a woman. Her cherubic face framed by her tastefully done hair, the gentle sag of her breasts beneath the sheer cloth of her nightie, the swell of her hips that had purportedly carried little Gahyun, those limber legs brazenly on display; and most importantly, the maturity and confidence shining in her eyes. Mrs. Bora draws closer, "I was sad that we missed your birthday party a few months ago," she whispers, "I have just the present to welcome you into manhood," her lips quirk into a crooked smile at her pun, "For your manhood!" Mrs. Bora gives you a quick kiss, "Now strip! Those clothes of yours must be filthy from school!"
Lounging on her couch and taking dainty sips from her teacup, Mrs. Bora watches while you hesitantly strip off your clothes and toss them onto the floor in an untidy pile, her eyes roaming your young body. Her eyes widen with obvious delight when your underwear finally comes off, and your cock springs free of its confines, rigidly pointing at the ceiling. Mrs. Bora finishes the last of her tea and licks her lips, "Delicious," she proclaims, "You look about ready to burst..." Kim Bora smirks, "Have you been fantasizing about me all this time?"
"Y-yes, Mrs. Bora," you stammer, your hands drifting down to cover your groin, your face beet red in embarrassment. The woman laughs,
"Oh don't be shy! How many socks have you filled? How many tissues have you destroyed? How often have you moaned my name into your pillow?" she stands up, sauntering towards you, "Did you cum for me this morning?" Mrs. Bora purrs as her hands slip around your shoulders, and your hand instinctively grip her toned rear, oh god you were grabbing Mrs. Bora's ass! She nibbles on her bottom lip while she stares up at you, "Time to try the real thing, dear," Mrs. Bora whispers, and then kisses you.
Mrs. Bora's lips fasten themselves around yours, and instead of inexpertly smearing themselves against you while her tongue slobbers around your mouth, hers gently peel your lips open. You moan as she tenderly, yet hungrily kisses you, massaging you with gentle smooches until your mouth parts and her tongue gracefully invites itself inside. You shudder like a leaf in her arms while you drown in pleasure, Mrs. Bora introducing you to how kissing should be properly done, and your hips grind against her soft stomach in appreciation. She smoothly breaks off the kisses and arches backwards, giving you a sleazy smile, "Goodness someone is getting rather excited!" one of her hands drifts down your chest to cradle your throbbing manhood, "We can't have your first load soaking into my nightie, now can we?" Mrs. Bora gives it a little pat, and you very nearly paint her tummy right then and there. Gahyun's mother laughs in delight, "Eh! Well we shouldn't leave him waiting too long, otherwise you'll jizz all over my carpet!" She taps your lips as she untangles herself from you, "Come, come! Let's see how good that mouth of yours is kissing my other lips!"
Her hips bouncing playfully from side to side, Mrs. Bora leads you back to her couch, tossing a decorative cushion onto the carpet before reclining in front of it. She gives you a wicked smile that sets your heart pounding. You wanted her. You wanted her so bad you could barely think about anything else. Your brain was drowning in hormones, removing anything aside from the need to breed Mrs. Kim Bora. With a playful smirk she opens her legs, and the stench of a woman hits you. You stare in awe at the sight of Mrs. Bora's pussy, the pussy you had mentally spent so many loads inside, that you had fantasized about for years, that you wanted to pump full of so much cum it would burst. Gahyun's mother pats her thigh, breaking your reverie, "Is it like you always imagined?" she asks breathily, "Is it different from that girl's?" And it was. Mrs. Bora's pussy was a roil of folds, her outer lips coated in the a fine layer of pubic hair, the trim of a woman who is long past worrying about such things, but does not want a jungle. Amongst that flowers of pink flesh, was her slit, her entrance clearly visible beneath, right above the gnarled rosebud of her asshole, and slathering it all was a coating of white fluid. Asa's pussy had barely been wet, Mrs. Bora's was literally dripping with arousal, its heady smell already driving you wild.
"Lunch time," Mrs. Bora sings, using two fingers to spread wide the mess of pinkish folds, and you sink to your knees in front of it, "Dig in, dear. I'm sure you are famished!" The stink of her pussy fills your nose as you lower yourself into it, and with rasping breath you extend your tongue and drag it up through the sticky softness of her slit. Mrs. Bora shudders, "Oh yes..." she sighs, "There you go, take your time with it, eat as much as you'd like," her hand winds through your hair, "Lick your plate clean," Moaning you do as she says, lapping at her folds while they smear themselves across your face, coating it with a layer of her thick honey, unable to stop yourself from eating out your childhood friend's mother. Before long she is grinding her crotch against your face, her hand holding you steadily against her pussy while she humps your outstretched tongue. And once that grows too sore, Mrs. Bora instructs you to use your mouth instead, and so you suckle upon her fleshy hood while she purrs with satisfaction.
Eventually Mrs. Bora tires of your efforts, it was hard to remember just how long you had been devouring her for, but suddenly she gently pushes back on your head and beckons you upwards, "Mmm, not to bad," she sighs, "someone was eager for lunch! Mrs. Bora pulls herself further along the couch, tossing aside the back cushions to form a small bed of sorts, and pats the couch for you to join her. She lays down horizontally, her legs pressed together and hugging her chest as you scramble onto her couch, awarding you with a smile as you do, "Now then, do you remember how to enter a girl?" You nod eagerly,
"Yes, Mrs. Bora," you breath, and she laughs,
"Call me Sua! All my lovers do..."
"But..."
"Oh..." Mrs. Bora gives you a knowing look, "Does it excite you more when you call me that? Naughty boy!" she coos, "Then it's alright, dear, let Mrs. Bora take good care of you, okay?" Mrs. Bora uses her hands to open her legs, revealing her sopping pussy, her nightie pulled up below her breasts, wordlessly inviting you inside, the glimmer of silver on her finger somehow gives you pause though...
"But Mrs. Bora..." you swallow, "Your husband..."
Mrs. Bora rolls her eyes, "When was the last time you saw my husband?" and waits several moments while you struggle through your memory before continuing, "Exactly. Now hush, dear. Time to make your dreams come true," Mrs. Bora cocks her head, "It isn't polite to leave a lady waiting..." Banishing your worries, you scramble between her legs, your dick still sticking out of you like a spear, and merely accidentally brushing it against one smooth leg is enough to send shivers through you. Shuddering with barely contained excitement, you place yourself atop Mrs. Bora, your cock pushing against the sodden mess of her folds, your face inches away from hers; it was about to happen. Your tip slips and slides up and down her slit, unable to find her entrance until Mrs. Bora lets out a laugh, "So cute!" and her hand guides you inside of her.
Bliss fills your brain to bursting. Mrs. Sua's pussy was sublime. It was literally gushing wet, as warm as an oven, and snugly holding you tightly inside of it; why bother fucking girls your age when Milf pussy was outright superior? You moan loudly as you shove every inch of yourself into her, and she takes it all with a soft sigh, her head lolling back against the cushion,
"Oh, Mrs. Bora!" you gasp,
Mrs. Bora's hands roam your back, "Mmmph! That's it, there you go, you're in me now," she kisses you, "How does it feel to be inside of a woman? Much better than your fist, hmm?" You groan in answer, your hips starting to move on their own, making Mrs. Bora's pussy squelch with every thrust. You are unable to stop yourself, control yourself, simply pumping away between Mrs. Bora's thighs like a man possessed. Soon pleasure is building along your root, swelling up from your balls and surging up your shaft,
"Oh fuck, Mrs. Bora!" you moan, you are about to cum in her, raw. You are about to creampie Gahyun's mother! But her legs lock tightly around your waist and she grips your face,
"Let it all out in me," she growls huskily, before kissing you fiercely, and so you do.
You groan plaintively while you empty yourself into Mrs. Bora, drooling and slurring her name while your lips mash wetly against hers, your entire body shuddering atop her own. Your spasm with every fresh burst of cum the spews into her experienced pussy, her folds gently squeezing with every pulse to ensure you work out every last drop. Eventually, the pleasure fades, leaving you feeling light and exhausted, and you collapse against her neck, breathing heavily. Her hands soothingly stroke your back, "There you go... Good boy... Good boy!" Mrs. Bora purrs, "You came so much inside of me, I could feel it hitting my walls... Goodness you are still so hard..." and so you are, your cock still twitching fitfully in her warm embrace. She smiles as you lazily raise yourself up to look at her, "Better than a tissue?" she teases, and you moan tiredly in response,
"Much better, Mrs. Bora..."
"Mmm, good," she sighs, before giving your ass a gentle slap, "Now then, ready for round two? You young men always have so much stamina..." You attempt to protest that you are too drained to continue, but evidently your manhood disagrees; it was still as rigid as stone when you pull out of Mrs. Bora.
Bliss was heaped upon bliss, as Mrs. Bora performs fellatio upon you. As it turns out, getting sucked off by some inexperienced girl was nothing like receiving fellatio from a woman like Mrs. Bora. With Asa there had been some suction, the warmth of her mouth, a bit of wetness, pleasant but nothing too exciting; with Mrs. Bora... You claw at the cushions, your groans echoing throughout the house while Mrs. Bora's head bobs atop your cock, her eyes locked upon your face. Her cheeks hollow as she slurps mightily upon your poor meat, her tongue performing acrobatics along your shaft while she works her way up and down it, slobbering wetly until your balls are dripping with her spittle; and she apparently has no gag reflex. Her hands are not idle either, stroking your thighs, cupping your swollen balls, working your shaft whenever she would focus on your tip, massaging your groin before sliding up to tease your nipples; it was heavenly. And Mrs. Bora keeps you at the Heavenly Gates the entire time, never tiring, leaving you constantly on edge while never allowing your manhood to flag; by the end you are literally begging her for release. Which only makes her smirk and continue.
"Wa-wait, Mrs. Bora! It's-!" You groan plaintively, and Mrs. Bora's eyebrows furrow as she smiles around your shaft, her pace steady and confident. She was going to work your young cock out, and knows exactly how she wants you to finish. So the next time your cock shudders with pre-climactic delight, Mrs. Bora does not slow and relax the intensity of her oral sex, instead she simply continues playing your manhood like an instrument; and you promptly orgasm. You moan with every pulse that goes through your dick, Mrs. Bora's head sliding down it to the root in time with every fresh release of your semen, your agonized ecstasy no doubt being heard around the block. Her eyes stare intently up at you as your cock buries itself in her face with each new slurry of fluid that spews from your tip, while your hips buck spasmodically from the sheer force of your climax. Your head is spinning by the time Mrs. Bora sucks the last dregs out of your member, and deposits a sizable portion of your load into the teacup, smacking her lips in satisfaction as she roils your jizz around the cup. Then someone starts screaming.
"MOM! WHAT THE FUCK!?" Gahyun screeches from where she entered the living room, her entry no doubt hidden by your appalling groans. Mrs. Bora turns to look at her daughter,
"Welcome home, Gah," she says cheerfully, "Would you like a taste of him, it's fresh!"
"You're fucking!" Gahyun shrieks,
"Mhmm," Mrs. Bora agrees,
"HIM!" Gahyun froths,
"Oh yes, him," Mrs. Bora nods,
"RAW?" Gahyun literally spits with rage when she spots the mess leaking from her mother's pussy,
"He came quite a bit too," Mrs. Bora happily informs her daughter,
"You... You..." Gahyun is practically vibrating with fury, "You fucking WHORE!" she rails, "He was supposed! To be! MINE!" her voice reaches such a pitch that several windows crack. Mrs. Bora sniffs,
"Oh please, dear. Some little slut named Asa had him first," she wags the cum-filled cup at her, "What did I say about playing with your food?"
Your mind was still somewhat clogged with hormones, but it was still lucid enough to determine that your less-than-friendly childhood friend apparently has a crush on you. Also you just rawdogged her mom. Oh and she just sucked your soul out because dear lord that woman can fellate. But also... wait what? Gahyun LIKES you? YOU??? Your often bratty bitch bully glares daggers at her mother, "I was working on it," she hiss, and Mrs. Bora scoffs,
"How? By fucking your way through half the football team? I'm sure that will get his attention!"
"Well excuse me for being frustrated his dumb ass couldn't figure it out!" Gahyun growls,
Mrs. Bora laughs outright, "Gah, he's a teenage boy. He wouldn't know you like him until you pull your pants down in front of him and bend over, and even then he might worry you're just being friendly," she winks at you, "Now, would you like to try his cum, it's fresh!"
Gahyun bountiful lips curl in disgust, "Enjoy it yourself, Mom! I'll get some myself!"
"Ehhhhhh?" Mrs. Bora brings her hand teasingly over her mouth and shoots you a lewd look, "Someone is growing up a little bit!"
"Oh shut up," Gahyun grumbles as she stalks towards you, shedding her clothes as she comes.
You gawp at your childhood friend's nubile body, obviously you had jerked off more than a few times thinking about her, but to see her actually nude like this was... Then Gahyun kisses you, fiercely, hungrily, reclaiming your lips from her temptatious mother, her hand around your neck. She breaks off the kiss long of enough to hiss at you, "You stupid, fucking idiot," before continue to try and use her perky lips to pry yours off. After her tongue busies itself gouging its way through your mouth, she suddenly shoves you off of her back against the couch with a snarl, causing you to gasp,
"Gah, wait!"
"Shut up!" Gahyun yells into your face, hauling herself astride you, "Seriously, you fucked my mom before me?" she slaps you,
"Gah..." Mrs. Bora lays herself nearby,
"You fucking..." Gah goes to slap you again, before shakily lowering her hand, "Your cock belongs to me now, got it?" Mrs. Bora points emphatically towards herself out of the corner of your eye, and you nod slowly at Gahyun's flushed face,
"Good boy!" Gahyun enthuses in the same tone her mother used, "Time for your reward..."
Gahyun might be a demanding brat of a girl, but she sure knows how to ride a cock. Panting eagerly, she drags your perhaps unsurprisingly erect dick towards the ceiling, before moving to mount you; only to be stopped by her mother's hand,
"Condom," Mrs. Bora says firmly, "No babies until after twenty-five!"
"Mooom!" Gahyun pouts, "You fucked him raw!"
"I, am mature enough to handle the complications of a creampie," Mrs. Bora points towards herself, still bizarrely wearing her now stained nightie. She taps her daughter's nose, "you, are not. So, rubbers until we can get you on the pill young lady!" Gahyun pouts even harder, but Mrs. Bora was not budging either, and your childhood friend relents,
"Fine!" she reaches between the seat cushions and drags out a familiar shiny rectangle, "Soon," Gahyun promises as she tears the package open and sheaths your cock, rubbing it against her shaven slit before sitting on it with a greedy groan.
Unlike Mrs. Bora, Gahyun was not there to drag things out, and after five minutes of furious bouncing, her ample tits flopping in your face, her swollen lips gnawing at your neck, her fresh pussy gripping you so tightly you fear it will tear off, you fill the condom. Your moans are much more subdued this time, and Mrs. Bora preens from her perch on the couch next to you two, content to watch Gahyun ride you to completion, beaming with maternal pride,
"Oh aren't you two just the cutest couple?" she sighs, "Just yesterday you were running around butt naked in this living room, and now... well you're still butt naked," Mrs. Bora smirks wickedly,
"Oh shut up, Mom!" Gahyun grumbles, I'm trying to enjoy our first time here!"
"Mmm, and what a time it has been..." Mrs. Bora sighs dramatically, "But oh! Will you look at the time!" You all do, the clock showing it was well into the evening, and you cough awkwardly,
"Maybe I should be going..." but Mrs. Bora was having none of it,
"Oh don't worry dear! I let your mother know you were over a few hours ago! I even told her you were staying the night with Gah! She was very excited to hear you two are finally getting cuddly!" she rubs her hands together, "Guess you're staying the night, dear!"
So you spent the night, and spent yourself in both Gahyun and Mrs. Bora several more times that night, much to the former's chagrin,
"Mom," she would complain, "stop fucking my boyfriend!" and Mrs. Bora would laugh,
"Eh, but it's such a bonding experience! And I can tell he likes me more..."
"Mom!"
"Yes, that's me!"
"Ugh!"
"Sharing is caring!"
"Ohgodohfuckohgodohfuck-"
"See? That's how you move your hips Gah..."
"Ohhhhh..."
And most of the night continued in that vein...
"Stacy's Mom, has got it going on-" PLAP PLAP, "She's all that I want-" PLAP, "and I've waited for so long-" PLAP PLAP PLAP "Stacy can't you see, You're just not the girl for me-" PLAPPLAPPLAPLAPSQUELCH, "I know it might be wrong but, I'm in love with Stacy's Mom!" Mrs. Bora sings along happily, before glancing back at you and Gahyun in the backseat, "That had better been inside of a rubber, young lady!" Gahyun rolls her eyes, the flesh of her rear warm against your crotch from where she had been riding you,
"Don't worry Mom, he's in my ass!" she grumbles, and Mrs. Bora winks at you through the rearview mirror,
"Butt sex while driving to school, you two have grown up so much!" she sighs,
"Mom!" Gahyun makes a disgusted noise, before looking back at you, "Round two? Or do you want me to suck you off again?"
"Su-sucking..." you manage, and your new girlfriend slides into the seat well onto her knees and gets to work cleaning your cock off with her mouth. Mrs. Bora's eyes meet yours through the mirror, and signals for you to call her later. You groan internally, like mother, like daughter!
One year later, and you and Mrs. Kim el Bora ("please, call me Sua!") are married, with her producing four more children as the years go by, as it turns out, Mr. Bora did not in fact exist. Gahyun would go off to college, and return four years later to reclaim your manhood from her mother, birthing an impressive seven kids before settling in with you two in easy companionship. It might have been wrong, but Gahyun's Mom, really, really, had got it going on.
You still call her Mrs. Bora while cumming inside of her though.
