A/N: I redid this fic like 4 times lol. It didn’t work out how I wanted, so it’s better to get it over with and shorten the fic.
You've seen Seungyeon multiple times. She's seen you multiple times, but there hasn’t been a single conversation between the two of you before today.
In the midst of Seungyeon being right in your pool, there's only one word to describe your day—crazy—because Jeongyeon's outrageous plan of setting you and Seungyeon up together worked.
From stopping by to grab your watch at Jeongyeon’s apartment to meeting Seungyeon alone while dropping off cosmetics products, it was awkward, very awkward at the start. You thought Jeongyeon is home, Seungyeon thought you were dropping Jeongyeon off, but funny enough, Jeongyeon is miles away at a mall with her manager.
And now, this actress is right in front of you, in your pool.
“You won't make progress in facing your fear of drowning if you only do what your body tells you, Seungyeon. It’s all in the mind.”
“Okay, you don’t have to act like a drill instructor or whatever they’re called,” she says, frustrated. “This isn’t boot camp. I feel like I’m being trained for the Navy or something. This isn’t normal.”
“The only easy day was yesterday, Seungyeon. Come on, you’re getting better. Believe in yourself. Let’s do it one last time, and then you can rest.”
“May I take a break, please?”
You’re thinking about it. You know she’s so tired that her arms will most likely give out any minute now.
“Are you frustrated with me, Sir?” she asks.
“No, Seungyeon. Why would I be? Let’s take a break,” you say, swimming backwards to a shallower depth as she follows you to get out of the pool.
Even as you stare at her, she looks incredibly hot with her hair all wet. Before Seungyeon got into the pool, she had come out of your bathroom in a one-piece swimsuit, and you tried not to make it obvious that you were checking her out. But what’s super obvious is that Seungyeon doing the exact same thing.
“So like..” she says, grabbing the towel from your hand after you give her one, “I have a question. What was your first impression of me?”
“When we walked past each other at the award shows?”
“Yeah.”
“Pretty,” you say, smiling at her. “That dress looked amazing on you.”
“Aw, thank you. I remember seeing you standing out so much from across the hallway before we passed each other. You were very handsome, by the way.”
“Thanks?” you chuckle.
Seungyeon gently places her hand on your chest, shyly, yet very bold. “So, we’re adults, right?”
“You’ve been checking me out, Seungyeon. It’s super obvious.”
“But you’re not checking me out? You said I’m pretty. Something isn't adding up."
“I would be lying if I said that I wasn’t, Seungyeon,” you smirk.
She chuckles, and then you felt a gentle squeeze from her hands on your chest, “pervert.”
“Here we go, I guess I’m in the wrong?”
“Gosh, who knew Twice’s bodyguard was this hot,” she stares at your shoulders, completely ignoring your question.
“You’re acting very different ever since we got out the pool, but I think I like where this is going.”
“See how mature we are? Leave the inappropriate thoughts for later, and later is right now.”
Both of you meet each other’s gaze. It gets quiet with only the birds chirping in the mid-evening. Seungyeon licks her lips, and you follow her lead, doing the same.
“May-” both of you say at the same time.
“You first,” she laughs. You like how she laughs, it’s on the shyer side.
“No, ladies first,” you say.
“May I borrow your lips?”
“If you promise to give it back, Seungyeon.” With a smirk, and a gentle pull on her chin, you lean in, closer and closer together for a kiss. She tilts her head to the right, and you tilt to the left, aggressively kissing each other by the second until it turns to French kissing.
Seconds felt like minutes by fighting over dominance through kisses, and she’s really putting up a fight. Seungyeon’s an actress after all.
“Let’s go inside,” you murmur, breaking the kisses.
“Should we?” she chuckles and puts her arms on your shoulders. You lift her up, hands on Seungyeon’s ass, and carry her inside slowly. “Gosh, you’re strong too,” she utters. “Lift me up so easily.”
As you turn the doorknob, you quickly get inside and shut the door while she makes out with your neck. “Seungyeon, relax,” you whisper. “This isn’t a movie scene.”
“Oh shut up,” she laughs.
Walking past the living room, you have only one place in mind—the bed. She crashes down onto the mattress and stares at your chest, so you crawl right on top of her, guiding her hand to rest on your chest. 'You love this, don’t you?'"
“So fucking charming,” she utters and laugh, covering her mouth shyly with her other hand. “How did we end up here?”
“Beats me,” you chuckle, letting go of her hands as she freely explores, while you grab onto the strap of her swimsuit. “May I?”
“Of course. That’s very respectful of you," she says. You pull the strap to the side as it loosens onto her shoulders. Seungyeon pulls you closer for a kiss with her hands on your shoulders, “I can feel something hard between by legs.”
"It's going inside you in a bit." You gently yank on her swimsuit to reveal her tits and give them a lick, then a passionate suck on her nipple. She chuckles and holds you until her nipples are coated in your saliva.
“It was pretty cute if you. Anyone ever said you look cute when your face is between their tits?”
“First time an actress ever said that to me," you smile, leaning in to kiss her on the lip. “How wet are you?”
“How about you find out,” she chuckles. “Gosh, I can’t believe we’re doing this. It's only been a day with you."
“There’s no turning back,” you say and slowly trace down, kissing Seungyeon’s chest, to her stomach, and down between her inner thighs.
“Oh, gosh,” she utters. “Mhmm.”
Seungyeon arches and lets out a quiet moan once she feels your breath between her legs. “It’s very sensitive right now,” she gasp.
Driven by lust, you couldn’t wait any longer. Before she can even realize, she lets out a deep moan once your tongue licks her pussy with her legs spreading wider. Seungyeon moans, “fuck, yes, yes, right there.”
Her head digs deeper into your pillow, eyes all shut with a smile on her face from being eaten out. Your tongue swirls, and you can feel Seungyeon trying to catch her breath, gasping for air the more you passionately make a small mess on her pussy.
She grips right onto your hair, pulling and squeezing with all her might. You can barely hear her moans after feeling her legs closing in on the side of your face. Seungyeon’s legs were tightly locking you in as she squirms side to side, continuously moaning and chuckling from how you're devouring her.
“Fuck!” she moans, screaming out her pleasures and you pull off from her pussy to let her catch her breath.
“Sorry, I got carried away,” you chuckle, then give her a mischievous smirk.
“Put it in already. I can see how hard you are,” she says, breathing heavily.
You take off your swim trunks, and she’s staring right at your cock after all the curious and inappropriate thoughts of wondering how big you were. She gulps, and gulps again, covering her mouth with her legs still spread open.
“It’s not like you’ve never seen a man’s private part, Seungyeon,” you tease her.
“I just haven’t done it in a while, okay?” she shyly looks to the side, embarrassed.
“I don’t judge, Seungyeon,” you say and lean over to slowly put the tip of your cock inside Seungyeon. She quietly moans, then grabs onto the side of your arms with both hands.
“Slowly,” Seungyeon gasp, gripping onto your arms. “Don’t be too rough on me.”
“I wasn’t planning on it anyways. Why would I hurt a pretty girl like you?”
Slowly, and gently, you push deeper inside her, deep enough where you can see her mouth open without a fight. “Fuck,” she moans. “Ugh.”
You lean closer to her face, and brush her hair while you thrust slowly for her sake. “Is it a problem if I,” you take a breath, “cum in you?”
“I never said you couldn’t,” she gasp with her body in rhythm to the way your body was pushing against her thighs. “You feel so good.”
“I can say the same.” You then kiss her on the lip as it quickly breaks into French kisses. She’s an actress, you know they can kiss, it’s what’s charming about Seungyeon. She holds you in with her arms all over your back, just caressing your shoulder blades as you thrust deeper into her pussy.
“You can go faster,” she whimpers. So you did, enough to make you find a good rhythm where her legs cling onto your hips. “Yes, right there.”
“So demanding,” you grunt right after, stopping deep into her pussy as it throbs. You can feel her chin right on your shoulders to where her moans sound so elegant.
“You’re not cumming, are you?”
“No, just not yet,” you chuckle, trying to cover the fact that Seungyeon’s moan turns you on so much.
“How about we change into a new position?” she says. And you don’t why, but the little conversations with her felt refreshing.
“Lay down sideways, Seungyeon,” you say, slowly pulling out and hearing the wet noises from her pussy.
She doesn’t answer, but gets on her side with one leg out in a ninety degree angle. You gulp from just seeing this woman looking at you from the side, “like this?”
“I was thinking of lifting your leg,” you say, unbothered as you quickly put the tip of your cock back in, and slowly going deeper while she groans.
You see Seungyeon gripping the bedsheets after a few seconds, and from just being on top to see her, your eyes are filled with lust, seeing Seungyeon’s ass slowly bouncing, the side of her tits, her back arching, and even the beauty of her face.
“Fuck,” you utter, grunting, thrusting faster mindlessly to hear her moan louder and grope her ass tightly, squeezing it until you’re satisfied.
Her groans are deep, moans so elegant, and the way she’s starting to whimper only made you want more, selfishly. “Right there,” she gasp, breathing harder.
“You love it, don’t you?” you say in a lower tone.
“Yes,” she gasp. “Fuck me.”
Despite her not wanting you to be too rough, you found a sweet spot, right for the two of you to enjoy each other in bed with an overwhelming amount of built up lust from today. You’re drowning in this feeling. Seungyeon’s purely beautiful, but the tight swim suit she had on added to the fueling desire.
But before you knew it, it’s too late, your cock is throbbing inside her. So you cum, without a second thought.
“Oh-” she utters, feeling a rush of warm cum inside her as you crash down, right on top of Seungyeon.
“Seungyeon,” you moan, gasping and grunting. She starts to kiss you, aggressively, wanting your lips glued to hers.
“Mhm,” she moans, “this was worth the wait.”
“It’s worth it if we both cum,” you say, trying to catch your breath and place your hand on her clit. “May I?”
“Keep it in me. I want you to feel me cumming, at least.”
You don’t reply, but slowly rub her clit in circles, gradually going faster. And out of desire, you couldn’t stare at her lips without giving them some attention, so you continue making out with Seungyeon. You just couldn't help it with an actress.
With her breaths coating your face, and after a few seductive moans, you felt her body squirming.“Cumming?”
“Don’t slow down for me this time,” she chuckles, until it breaks into an erotic grunt, instantly cumming and moaning loudly.
You felt her cumming, right on your cock with the walls getting tighter, to which, you can only utter, “gosh, Seungyeon.”
She grabs your hand, quickly with a tight grip to tell you to stop. And with no words, Seungyeon chuckles.
“That was cute of you, Seungyeon.” You pull out, and cum quickly oozes out slowly from her pussy.
“That was exhausting,” she closes her eyes.
“I didn’t hurt you, right?” you say, getting out of the bed to put on your pants only, because it’s more right to be shirtless in front of her.
“Well, it felt good. So, no? I don’t know. It was fun.”
“Stay the night?” you say, staring right in her eyes and getting onto the bed to brush Seungyeon’s silky hair.
“My car keys are at Jeongyeon. If I stay the night, she’ll know what we did. Actually…well, she did bring us two together today without our respective professions involved, didn’t she?”
You chuckle, “are you going to blame your sister for what we’re doing tonight?”
Seungyeon shrugs, “yeah. Payback. I’m taking her bodyguard for tonight.”
“Are you hungry? We haven’t eaten after we met each other."
“I didn’t know you’re a caring man. But yes, should we order something? Let’s get to know each other more. At least let me know you a little."
“I’ll order. I gave you hell today in the pool either way.”
“Hey, at least you had the time to help me out,” Seungyeon chuckles. “Maybe I should change into comfortable clothes.”
“I’ll be here waiting, Seungyeon. No rush.”
She goes into the bathroom with a set of clothes hanging from her arms. You grab your phone and see a text notification from Jeongyeon from an hour ago:
Jeongyeon: I know she’s not coming home. Donate me at least ₩2,000,000 to shut up. Hehe. Thanks.
The GPS had led you through winding, tree-lined roads for the last twenty minutes, each turn taking you deeper into a neighborhood that didn't feel like Seoul anymore. The mansions here didn't even try to blend in, they announced themselves with wrought-iron gates and stone walls, with security cameras that tracked your car's movement like predator eyes.
Your hands were slick against the steering wheel.
Senior Park had called this morning, his voice crackling through the phone with that particular brand of amusement he reserved for special assignments. "New client. Young. Recently married." A pause. "You've seen her face before."
You'd seen her face everywhere. Billboard in Gangnam. Subway advertisement for soju. The thumbnail of every third video on your YouTube feed. Karina. Yu Ji-min. The face of AESPA, the woman whose wedding had crashed three different entertainment news sites, whose husband, some shipping magnate's son had apparently decided that a wife was something you acquired, not something you maintained.
"That's the job," Senior Park had said. "She called us. Not the other way around. Remember that."
And now here you were, sitting in your Hyundai at the security gate of a house that looked more like a modern art museum, trying to remember how to breathe normally.
The gate buzzed before you could press the intercom.
A woman's voice, softer than you'd expected. "Come in. The front door is around the fountain."
The gate swung open.
The walk from your car to the front door took exactly forty-three steps. You counted them. Anything to keep your mind from spinning out. The fountain in the driveway was one of those minimalist things, a black stone slab with water sheeting down the sides. Classy. Expensive. The kind of thing you could stare at and feel nothing about.
Your professional training ran through your head like a checklist Senior Park had drilled into you months ago. Posture. Eye contact. Don't stare. Let her set the pace. The first meeting is always about making them comfortable enough to admit what they want.
But none of the training had mentioned what to do when Karina opened the door.
She wasn't wearing makeup. That was the first thing you noticed, not what you'd expected. Every image you'd ever seen of her was polished to a high gloss, stage-ready, camera-ready. The woman standing in the doorway had her dark hair pulled back in a loose ponytail, a few strands escaping at the temples. She wore an oversized gray sweater that hung off one shoulder, black leggings, bare feet on the marble floor.
And her face. Jesus Christ, her face.
The bone structure that launched a thousand fan edits. Lips that were slightly chapped, slightly parted. Eyes that held yours with something between curiosity and exhaustion.
"Come in," she said, stepping aside. "Take off your shoes."
You did. Brain on autopilot. The foyer was all white marble and indirect lighting, a staircase curving up into shadow. The house smelled like fresh laundry and something floral… lilies, maybe. A bouquet sat on a console table near the door, still wrapped in cellophane, the card unopened.
"I'm…" you started. "I know who you are." She was already walking toward what looked like a living room. "The agency sent me your file. Do you want something to drink?"
The living room was vast and somehow still felt empty. A sectional sofa big enough for twelve people. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking a garden you couldn't see in the dark. No photographs on the walls. No magazines on the coffee table. It looked like a showroom, like no one actually lived here. "Water would be great," you managed.
Karina gestured toward the sofa. "Sit." She disappeared through an archway. You heard water running, the clink of glass. Your heart was doing something ridiculous in your chest—not racing exactly, more like it was trying to relocate to your throat.
The file Senior Park had given you was thin. Married eight months. Husband's name was Lee Joon-ho, heir to Lee Shipping & Logistics. According to the tabloids, he'd been spotted at clubs in Gangnam with actresses whose names you didn't recognize, while Karina attended industry events alone. The word "lonely" appeared in a lot of the articles, usually paired with photos of her looking wistful at award shows. "Here."
She was back, holding two glasses. One water, one something amber. Whiskey, maybe. Your eyes tracked the movement of her bare arm as she set the water down on the coffee table between you. "You're nervous," she said, settling onto the opposite end of the sectional. Not a question.
"A little."
"Why?"
Because you're Karina. Because every man in this country has fantasized about you. Because I'm sitting in your mansion and you're wearing that sweater and I don't know what I'm supposed to do with my hands. "New clients are always nerve-wracking," you said instead. "For both of us."
Something flickered in her expression. Amusement, maybe. Or skepticism. She took a sip of her drink—whiskey, definitely—and let her head rest against the back of the sofa. The movement exposed the long line of her throat, the delicate architecture of her collarbones where the sweater had slipped. "How long have you been doing this?"
"A year."
"And before that?" You hesitated. The training said honesty was valuable, but only in measured doses. "I was a personal trainer. Senior Park recruited me. Said I had the right… temperament."
"Temperament." She said the word like she was tasting it. "Is that what they call it?" The silence stretched. Outside, wind rattled something against the glass—a branch, probably. The house was so quiet you could hear the refrigerator humming from two rooms away.
"Why did you call the agency?" you asked. Karina's gaze slid toward you. "Aren't you supposed to know the answer to that?"
"I'd rather hear it from you." Another sip of whiskey. Her throat moved as she swallowed. "The agency brief didn't tell you?"
"It said you were recently married. It said your husband travels frequently for work."
"Travels." A short laugh, not especially warm. "Is that what they're calling it now?"
You didn't answer. Sometimes silence was the best tool you had. Karina set her glass down on the coffee table with a little more force than necessary. The sound echoed in the cavernous room. "He doesn't travel. He's in Seoul. He just doesn't come home." She was looking at the windows now, at her own reflection in the dark glass. "Three months. I've seen him three times in three months, and each time it was for less than an hour. Photo opportunities, mostly. His PR team coordinates them."
"That sounds lonely." Her jaw tightened. "Don't."
"Don't what?" "Don't do the sympathetic thing. I'm not paying for sympathy."
You shifted on the sofa, turning to face her more directly. "What are you paying for?"
The question landed differently than you'd intended. Karina's eyes snapped to yours, and for a moment the mask slipped—the idol mask, the one she wore in every interview and variety show appearance. Underneath it was something rawer. Something hungry and furious and so tired of pretending. "I want to feel something," she said. "Something that isn't…" She gestured vaguely at the house around her. "This."
"This?"
"Empty." The word came out smaller than the others. She picked up her whiskey again, took a longer drink. "Everything in my life is scheduled and managed and presented to the public in exactly the right light. My marriage. My career. My face." Another drink. "I wake up in this house and I feel like I'm already a ghost. Like I'm haunting my own life." You watched her fingers tighten around the glass. The knuckles went pale.
"So when you ask what I'm paying for," she continued, "I'm paying for something real. Something that isn't polite. Something that doesn't treat me like I'm made of glass." The air in the room had changed. Thicker, somehow. Charged with something you couldn't name.
"Have you done this before?" you asked. "With anyone from the agency?"
"No."
"And you understand how this works? The boundaries, the rules—"
"I understand." She cut you off with a look that was almost defiant. "I read everything. I know about the safeword protocols. I know I can stop anything at any time. I know this isn't…" She paused, searching for the word. "Conventional."
"It's not," you agreed. "Which is why I need to ask you something, and I need you to be honest with me."
Karina raised an eyebrow, and for a second you caught a glimpse of the stage persona, the one who commanded thousands with a single glance. "Ask."
"Are you sure you want this?" The question hung between you. Outside, the wind picked up again, and somewhere in the house a door creaked—settling, probably, or the air pressure shifting. Karina didn't look away from your face.
"Do you want me to prove it?" she asked.
"I want you to tell me." She was quiet for a long moment. Then she set her glass down again, stood up from the sofa, and walked toward you. Her bare feet made almost no sound on the marble floor. The sweater slipped further off her shoulder as she moved, revealing the strap of something black and lacy underneath. When she stopped, she was standing directly in front of you, close enough that you could smell her perfume—something light, citrus and white flowers—and underneath it, the clean scent of her skin. "I've been thinking about this for three weeks," she said. "Ever since I found the agency's number in a forum I wasn't supposed to be reading. Ever since I realized that the only person who's touched me in eight months is my makeup artist." Her voice was steady, but there was a tremor underneath it. "So yes. I'm sure. I want this."
She held out her hand. "I want you to make me feel something. I don't care if it hurts. I don't care if it's ugly. I want to stop being Karina for a few hours and just be… a body. A woman. Whatever is left of me when all of this"—she waved at the house, at the empty walls, at the unopened flowers—"isn't here anymore." Your pulse was a drumbeat in your ears. Her hand was still extended, palm up, waiting.
"Tell me your safeword," you said.
"Red."
"And if you can't speak?"
"Three taps. Anywhere you can feel them." You'd said the same words to half a dozen clients before her, but something about the way Karina recited them back—steady, rehearsed, like she'd practiced them in front of a mirror—made your chest tighten.
"Okay," you said. And you took her hand. Her skin was warm. Soft, the way you'd imagined, but there was strength in her grip too—the hand of someone who'd spent years in dance studios, who'd trained her body to do exactly what she wanted it to. She didn't flinch when you stood up, which brought you close enough that you could see the individual lashes framing her eyes, the tiny mole near her left eyebrow, the way her lips had parted slightly.
"Before we do anything," you said, "I need you to understand something."
"What?"
"This isn't about your husband. This isn't about revenge or filling a void or proving something to yourself." You kept your voice low, even. "This is about what you want. Right now. In this room. Nothing else exists." Karina's eyes searched your face. Whatever she was looking for, she must have found it, because something in her expression shifted—a loosening, a letting-go.
"Nothing else exists," she repeated.
"Good girl." The words slipped out before you could stop them, but the effect was immediate. Karina's breath caught. Her pupils dilated, just slightly. The hand in yours tightened its grip.
"That's what you want?" you asked. "To be good?"
"I want…" She swallowed. "I want to stop thinking. I want someone else to be in charge. Just for a while." You lifted your free hand and brushed a strand of hair away from her face. The movement was gentle, almost reverent, and it made no sense with the things you were about to do—but that was the point, wasn't it? The contrast. The collision of tender and brutal that would short-circuit her brain and give her exactly what she was asking for.
"Your bedroom," you said. "Take me there."
She led you up the curved staircase, her hand still in yours. The upstairs hallway was lined with doors, all of them closed except one at the far end. Soft light spilled out of it, and as you got closer you could see the corner of a bed—a huge bed, king-sized at least, with white sheets and too many pillows. The master bedroom. Karina's bedroom.
The room that her husband had probably not set foot in for months. She paused at the threshold, and for a moment you thought she might hesitate. Might change her mind. Might realize what she was about to do and decide it was too much, too fast, too far outside the carefully constructed image of Yu Ji-min, beloved idol, perfect wife.
Instead, she turned to face you. "What do you want me to do first?" The question was genuine. Not a test. She was waiting for you to take the reins, willing to hand over control before you'd even started.
"First," you said, stepping into the bedroom and pulling her gently after you, "I want you to take off that sweater." Karina's hands moved to the hem of the gray wool. The fabric lifted, revealing the black lace you'd glimpsed earlier—a bralette, delicate and expensive-looking, the kind of thing you wore when you wanted to feel beautiful even if no one else would see it. The sweater came over her head and dropped to the floor.
Her skin was luminous in the low light. Pale and smooth, with the kind of muscle definition that came from years of dancing—toned arms, a flat stomach that tensed as she breathed, the curve of her ribs just visible beneath the skin. "Now the leggings." She hooked her thumbs into the waistband and pushed them down, bending at the waist. The movement was efficient, not seductive, but it didn't matter—the sight of her body unfolding as she straightened up, the black lace of her underwear matching the bralette, the long lines of her legs.
You circled her slowly. She stood very still, the way she'd probably been trained to stand for fittings and stage checks, but there was a tremor in her thighs that she couldn't quite control. Anticipation. Maybe fear. Probably both. "Lie down on the bed," you said. "On your back."
Karina did as she was told. The mattress barely dipped under her weight—memory foam, probably, the kind that cost more than your monthly rent. She arranged herself in the center of the white expanse, arms at her sides, looking up at the ceiling. "Close your eyes." Her lashes swept down against her cheeks. The room was silent except for her breathing, which had gone shallow and quick. You stood at the foot of the bed and watched her. The rise and fall of her chest. The way her fingers curled against the sheets. The faint flush spreading from her neck to her collarbones.
"How do you feel?" you asked. "Exposed."
"Good." You moved to the side of the bed and sat down on the edge, close enough that your hip nearly touched hers. Karina's breathing hitched at the proximity.
"Do you know what I'm going to do to you?"
A pause. "No." "I'm going to use you." The words came out rougher than you'd intended. "I'm going to take everything you're willing to give me, and I'm going to make you feel every second of it. Your body belongs to me tonight. Do you understand?"
Her voice was barely a whisper. "Yes."
"And you want that?"
"God, yes."
"Look at me." Her eyes opened. They were glassy already, the pupils blown wide. The composed idol from five minutes ago was already starting to dissolve, replaced by something more vulnerable and infinitely more real. "Your husband," you said. "Does he ever look at you like this?"
Karina flinched—a tiny movement, but you caught it. "No."
"Does he touch you?"
"No."
"Does he make you feel anything at all?" A tear slipped from the corner of her eye, tracking down her temple and into her hair. "No." You leaned closer. "Then forget him. Forget all of it. Right now, there's only me and you and what your body can take. Nothing else. No Karina. No Yu Ji-min. Just a woman who needs to be fucked like she matters."
The tears were coming faster now, but she wasn't sobbing—just leaking, silently, the release of pressure that had been building for months.
"Please," she said. "Please."
"Please what?"
"Make me forget." You stood up and began unbuttoning your shirt. Karina watched you through blurred vision, her chest rising and falling with breaths she couldn't seem to control. The black lace of her bralette had shifted, revealing the upper curve of her breasts, the skin there flushed and warm.
"Last chance to change your mind," you said, pulling your shirt off and letting it fall. Her eyes traveled over your chest, your arms, the line of your stomach. When she spoke, her voice was steadier than it had been.
"I'm not changing my mind."
"Good." You unbuckled your belt and pulled it free from the loops with a single smooth motion. The leather whispered against the fabric of your pants. "Because I'm just getting started." The belt was still in your hand. Karina watched it loop between your fingers, the leather dark against your palm. Her tears had left shiny tracks down her temples, disappearing into the hairline, and her breathing had gone shallow again—not from crying now, but from something else. Something that made her thighs press together on the white sheets.
“Sit up,” you said. She pushed herself upright, the bralette shifting as she moved. One strap slipped off her shoulder. She didn’t fix it. You folded the belt in half and ran your thumb along the smooth side. “You said you wanted to stop being Karina for a few hours.”
“Yes.”
“Then I’m going to take away your sight.” Her lips parted. A micro-flinch—not fear, not exactly. More like the body’s instinctive response to a cliff edge. The moment before the jump. “The blindfold,” you continued, “stays on until I take it off. If it becomes too much, you use the taps. Three of them. Anywhere you can reach me.”
“I know the rules.”
“I know you do.” You stepped closer, until your knees touched the edge of the mattress. “But I want to hear you say it. What happens if you need to stop?”
“Three taps.” Her voice was steadier now. “On you. Anywhere.”
“And what’s your word?”
“Red.”
“Good.” You reached down and brushed your knuckles along her jawline. The contact was feather-light, almost accidental. “Lift your hair.” She gathered the dark strands and held them up, exposing the nape of her neck. The movement arched her back slightly, pushed her chest forward. The black lace strained against her breasts. You brought the belt around her head. The leather was cool, supple from use. You positioned it across her eyes, careful not to catch her hair in the buckle, and pulled it snug against her temples. Not tight enough to hurt. Tight enough that she wouldn’t see anything but darkness.
“How does that feel?”
Karina exhaled. “Dark.”
“Can you see anything?”
“No.”
“Good.” You fastened the belt at the back of her head and let your fingers trail down the side of her neck as you withdrew. Her pulse hammered against your fingertips. “Now lie back down.” She lowered herself onto the mattress. The movement was different now—less controlled, more tentative. Without her sight, every shift of her body became a negotiation with the unknown. Her hands found the sheets and gripped them. You stood at the edge of the bed and looked at her. The idol that half of Korea fantasized about. The face on every billboard. Reduced to a blindfolded woman in black lace, her chest rising and falling in shallow, rapid cycles, her lips slick where she’d licked them.
“Spread your legs.” Karina’s thighs parted. The movement was slow, almost reluctant—but she did it. The matching black panties were cut high on her hips, the fabric thin enough that you could see the suggestion of her underneath. A dark shadow. A slight dampness already bleeding through.
“Wider.” She obeyed. Her knees fell open, exposing the full length of her. The panties pulled taut across her cunt. The outline of her lips. The little seam where they parted.
You didn’t touch her there. Not yet. Instead you climbed onto the bed, positioning yourself beside her. The mattress dipped under your weight, and Karina’s body shifted toward you instinctively—gravity pulling her toward the heat of your skin. “You’re going to use your mouth now,” you said. “And while you do, I’m going to play with these.” Your fingers found the strap of her bralette. You pulled it down. Then the other strap. The lace caught on her nipples for a moment—already peaked, already hard—before you tugged it free and let the fabric pool around her waist.
Karina’s breasts were full and pale, the nipples a dusty rose color that darkened at the tips. They stiffened further in the open air, and she made a small sound—something between a gasp and a whimper. “You like that.”
“Yes,” she breathed.
“You like being blindfolded. You like not knowing what’s coming next.”
“I… yes.” You traced a circle around her right nipple with your fingertip. The skin puckered. Karina’s back lifted off the mattress.
“Don’t move,” you said. “Stay still and let me touch you.” She forced herself down. The effort was visible—her abdominal muscles tensed, her hands fisting in the sheets. You circled the nipple again, closer this time, and then you took it between your thumb and forefinger and squeezed. The sound she made was not a moan. It was a broken exhale, a noise that started in her chest and caught in her throat. Her hips bucked once—an involuntary spasm—and then she forced them still. “That’s it,” you murmured. “Let your body react. Don’t fight it.”
You rolled the nipple between your fingers, working it slowly. The texture was fascinating—the way it tightened and pebbled under your touch, the way the areola crinkled around it. Karina’s breathing had gone ragged. A flush was spreading down her chest, past her collarbones, toward the swell of her breasts. “Does your husband ever touch you like this?”
“No—” The word came out strangled.
“Does he know what your body does when someone pays attention to it?”
“He doesn’t… he never…”
“He never what?”
“He never touches me.” The confession was barely a whisper. “He never—ah—” You’d switched to the other nipple, giving it the same treatment. Roll. Squeeze. A gentle twist that made her gasp and arch before she remembered she was supposed to stay still.
“Then he’s a fool,” you said. “Because your body is extraordinary.” You leaned down and took her nipple into your mouth. Karina cried out. The sound was sharp and sudden, echoing in the vast bedroom. Your tongue laved across the tight bud, traced circles around the areola, and then you sucked—a long, pulling pressure that made her whole body go rigid.
“Oh—oh god—” Her hands came up, flailing in the dark, and found your shoulders. Her nails dug in. You didn’t tell her to stop. Instead you sucked harder, pulling the nipple deep into your mouth while your other hand continued working its twin—rolling, pinching, tugging in counterpoint to the rhythm of your tongue. She was making sounds now that had no words in them. Just vowels. Just broken, desperate vowels that rose and fell with the movement of your mouth. You released her nipple with a wet pop.
“Hands down,” you said. “We’re not done.” Karina’s fingers uncurled from your shoulders. She lowered her arms back to the bed. Her chest was heaving, both nipples now slick and swollen, darker than they’d been before. The blindfold had shifted slightly—just a millimeter—but she hadn’t tried to remove it. “Good girl. Now.” You unfastened your pants and pushed them down. Your boxers followed. “I want you to sit up. I want you on your knees. Can you do that?”
She nodded. The belt bobbed with the movement. Getting her upright was an exercise in trust. She couldn’t see the edge of the bed, couldn’t gauge the distance. You guided her by the shoulders—first into a sitting position, then turning her so her legs hung off the side of the mattress. “On your knees,” you said. “On the floor.” Karina slid off the bed. Her knees hit the hardwood with a soft thud. The position put her face level with your hips, and even though she couldn’t see you, she must have sensed your proximity, because her breath quickened. “You’re going to use your mouth now,” you said. “The way you’ve been thinking about since you first called the agency. The way you’ve imagined in this empty bed at night while your husband was god knows where.”
Her lips parted. Her tongue darted out, wetting them. “But you don’t get to use your hands. Not yet. Just your mouth. And while you work, I’m going to keep playing with your nipples. Do you understand?”
“Yes.” You guided yourself toward her mouth. The head of your cock brushed her lower lip—just a touch, just enough for her to feel the heat. Karina’s whole body shuddered. “Open.” She did. Her jaw dropped, and you pushed forward, sliding the tip past her lips. The inside of her mouth was hot. Wet. Her tongue met the underside of your shaft, tentative at first, then bolder—flattening against you, tracing the ridge of the head. You groaned. The sound was involuntary. “That’s it. Take more.”
She did. Her lips stretched around your girth, and you watched her jaw work as she accommodated the intrusion. There was no hesitation now—the blindfold had freed her from something. From the performance. From the expectation. From Karina Yu, the idol, and all the ways that identity constrained her. The woman kneeling on the floor was just a woman. A woman who wanted to suck cock. You reached down and found her nipples again. Both of them this time, one in each hand, rolling them between your thumbs and forefingers as she began to move.
Karina moaned around your shaft. The vibration traveled through you, up your spine, into the base of your skull. “Mmm—”
She pulled back, let her tongue swirl around the head, then pushed forward again—deeper this time. Her throat flexed. A gag reflex triggered, and she choked, but she didn’t pull away. She held herself there, breathing through her nose, letting her throat adjust to the intrusion. “Fuck,” you breathed. “You’ve done this before.” She couldn’t answer—her mouth was full—but the way she moved said everything. This wasn’t practice. This was muscle memory. Somewhere in her past, before the fame and the management and the carefully curated image, there had been a girl who knew exactly what to do with her mouth. You pinched her nipples harder. She whimpered. Bobbed her head. The wet sounds of her mouth filled the room—the slick slide of lips on skin, the soft suction when she pulled back, the obscene little pop when she reached the tip and let go for just a moment before diving back down.
“Look at you.” Your voice had gone rough. “The most famous woman in Korea. On her knees. Blindfolded. Choking on a stranger’s cock.” Karina’s response was a moan that vibrated through your entire shaft. She sucked harder. Faster. Her tongue worked the underside of your cock with the kind of precision that spoke to experience—flicking against the frenulum, tracing the vein that ran along the length, pressing flat and wide when she reached the base. You tugged her nipples in rhythm with her bobbing. Pull when she went down. Release when she came up. The coordination turned her body into an instrument—you played her nipples, and she played you with her mouth. Saliva dripped down her chin. It pooled in the hollow of her throat, ran in thin rivulets toward her collarbones. She was messy now. Undone. The composed idol from an hour ago was dissolving into something rawer and infinitely more beautiful.
“Deeper,” you said. “Take it deeper.” She pushed forward. Her throat constricted around the head of your cock—a tight, hot pressure that made your vision swim. She gagged again, harder this time, and you felt her throat spasm around you. “Stay there.” She held. Her shoulders trembled. A tear leaked from beneath the blindfold—not from crying, but from the physical reflex of her throat trying to expel the intrusion. The tear tracked down her cheek and mixed with the saliva on her chin. You released her nipples and cupped her face instead. Your thumbs traced the stretched line of her lips, the bulge of your cock visible through her cheek.
“You’re perfect like this,” you murmured. “Blind. Choking. Desperate. This is what you needed, isn’t it? To be used. To be nothing but a mouth.” Karina made a sound—half moan, half sob—and nodded as much as she could with your cock buried in her throat. You pulled back. Let her breathe. A thick strand of saliva connected her bottom lip to the tip of your cock.
“Don’t swallow yet,” you said. “Let it drip.” She obeyed. The saliva pooled and spilled, running down her chin and onto her chest. It made her skin glisten in the low light.
“Now use your hands. Both of them. Show me how you touch yourself when you think about this.” Her hands came up immediately—eager, almost frantic. One wrapped around the base of your shaft while the other cupped your balls. Her fingers were cool against the heat of your skin. She squeezed gently, testing the weight, and then her mouth was back on you—lips stretched wide, tongue working, throat opening. The blindfold was soaked now. Tears and sweat had darkened the leather around her eyes. You reached down and found her nipples again. Plucked them. Rolled them. Pinched them until she keened around your cock, the sound high and desperate. “You love this. You love being on your knees for a stranger. You love not being in control.”
“Mmmhmm—” The affirmation vibrated through your shaft.
“Say it. Pull off and say it.” She let you go with a gasp. Her lips were swollen, the color darkened to a deep rose. “I love it. I love being on my knees. I love—” She swallowed, her throat working. “I love not being in control.”
“Why?”
“Because…” Her blindfolded face tilted up toward your voice. “Because for once I don’t have to pretend. I don’t have to be perfect. I don’t have to be Karina. I can just be… this.”
“A mouth.”
“Yes.”
“A set of holes.”
She shuddered. “Yes.”
“Say it.”
“I’m a mouth.” Her voice cracked. “I’m a set of holes. I’m just—I’m just a body that wants to be used.” You stroked her cheek. “Good girl. Now open up.” She did. Her jaw dropped, tongue extended—a gesture of pure, shameless submission. You guided yourself back into her mouth and this time you didn’t let her set the pace. You fucked her throat with slow, deliberate thrusts, watching her lips stretch around you, watching her chest heave as she struggled to breathe through her nose.
Your hands never left her nipples. They were dark now, engorged, slick with the saliva that had dripped down from her chin. You twisted them in opposite directions and Karina screamed around your cock—a muffled, desperate sound that was swallowed by the column of flesh filling her throat. “Again.” Twist. Scream. Her thighs squeezed together, and through the thin black panties you could see her cunt clenching on nothing.
“You’re getting wet from this. From choking on a stranger’s cock while he twists your nipples.” She couldn’t answer. Could only whimper and bob her head and take it. You pulled her off again. She gasped, coughed, and then immediately tried to lean forward—to get you back in her mouth. You held her by the hair. “Not yet. I want to look at you.” Karina knelt there, chest heaving, lips swollen and slick, chin dripping. The blindfold was a dark slash across her face. Her nipples jutted out from the flushed mounds of her breasts, hard and dark and wet. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” you said. “And I mean that. Not Karina the idol. Not the image. This. Right here. A woman who finally stopped pretending.”
Her lips trembled. “Please.”
“Please what?”
“Please let me finish. Please let me taste you. Please—I need—I need to feel you—”
“You need to feel me come down your throat.”
“Yes.” The word was a sob. “Yes. Please. Use my mouth. Use my throat. I don’t care if I can’t breathe. I just want to feel it. I want to taste it. Please.” You guided her back onto your cock. She took you deeper than before—no hesitation, no slow build. She swallowed you whole, her nose pressing against your abdomen, her throat working around the intrusion like it was made for this. Made for you. Your hands found her nipples one last time. You pinched them hard—the hardest yet—and held the pressure as she sucked. Karina’s whole body convulsed. Her thighs pressed together so tightly that the muscles in her legs stood out in sharp relief. A muffled, keening sound escaped from somewhere deep in her throat. She was close. Even without touching her cunt, even without any stimulation below the waist—she was close. The nipple play and the blindfold and the degradation had wound her up to a breaking point.
You felt your own climax building. A tightening at the base of your spine. A coiling pressure that radiated outward. “I’m going to come,” you said. “And you’re going to swallow every drop. Do you understand?” Karina’s response was to suck harder. Her tongue worked the underside of your shaft, pressing and stroking in time with her bobbing. Her hand cupped your balls and squeezed—gently, then harder—and that was it. The orgasm hit like a punch to the spine. You groaned—a deep, guttural sound—and your hands tightened on her nipples as the first pulse of cum shot into her mouth. She swallowed. You felt her throat work around the head of your cock, milking you, drawing out every pulse. The second shot. The third. She took them all, her lips sealed tight around your shaft, not letting a single drop escape.
“Fuck. Fuck, Karina—” She pulled back just enough to let the last pulse land on her tongue. Then she closed her mouth and swallowed again, her throat moving in a long, deliberate gulp. When she finally released you, she sat back on her heels. Her chest was still heaving. Her nipples were dark and swollen. Her chin glistened. A single drop of cum had escaped the corner of her mouth and was tracking slowly down toward her jaw. You reached down and wiped it away with your thumb. Then you pressed your thumb to her lips. She sucked it clean.
“Thank you,” she whispered. You crouched down in front of her. The blindfold was ruined—soaked through with tears and sweat, the leather darkened to near-black. You reached behind her head and unbuckled it. The belt fell away.
Karina blinked. Her eyes were glassy and unfocused, the pupils so dilated that her irises were barely visible. Tear tracks striped her cheeks. Her lips—swollen, bruised-looking, the lipstick she hadn’t been wearing long since replaced by a deeper, more honest color. She looked wrecked. She looked free. “How do you feel?” you asked.
A long pause. Then a smile—small, fragile, but real. “Like I’m still here. Like I’m actually… in my body. For the first time in months.” You brushed the hair away from her face. “We’re not done.” Karina’s smile widened, just a fraction. “I know.” “Lie back down on the bed. On your stomach this time.” She rose on unsteady legs and climbed onto the mattress. The black panties were soaked through now—a dark, wet patch that spread from the gusset all the way to the waistband. She arranged herself face-down on the white sheets, her arms stretched above her head, her legs slightly apart.
The position made her ass look incredible. Round and full, the cheeks peeking out from beneath the lace.
You climbed onto the bed behind her. Your cock was still half-hard, already stirring again at the sight of her. “I’m going to take these off now,” you said, hooking your fingers into the waistband of her panties. “And then I’m going to find out just how wet choking on a stranger’s cock made you.”
Karina’s voice was muffled by the pillow. “Yes. Please. Touch me.” You pulled the panties down. And stopped breathing. The panties slid down the curve of her ass, the black lace peeling away from skin that glistened with moisture. The gusset left a shining trail across the backs of her thighs—a snail's track of arousal that caught the bedroom's low light. You stopped breathing.
Karina's cunt was laid bare before you, the lips puffy and flushed a deep rose, parted just enough to reveal the darker, wetter flesh within. Her arousal had coated everything—the inner thighs, the neat strip of dark hair above her mound, the puckered swirl of her asshole that winked at you as she shifted on the mattress. The scent hit you next: salt and musk and something sweeter underneath, the raw perfume of a woman who'd been sucking cock while her nipples were tortured and had loved every second of it.
"Fuck," you breathed. Karina's response was muffled by the pillow. "What? What is it?"
"You're dripping. You're actually—" You ran one finger along the seam of her cunt, not pushing in, just gathering the slick that had pooled there. The touch made her whole body jolt. "You're soaked. All the way down your thighs."
"I know." Her voice cracked. "I could feel it. While I was—while you were in my mouth—I could feel myself getting wetter and I couldn't do anything about it."
"Did you want to?"
"Yes. God, yes. I wanted to touch myself so badly. But you told me not to move. So I just… leaked." You brought your slick-coated finger to your mouth and tasted her. Salty. Slightly bitter. Clean. The flavor bloomed on your tongue, and something in your chest tightened—not just lust, though there was plenty of that, but something closer to awe. The most famous woman in Korea was face-down on her marital bed, her cunt drooling onto the sheets, waiting for a stranger to decide what to do with her.
"Please," Karina whispered. "Please touch me. I've been waiting. I've been so patient. Please."
"How long has it been since someone touched you here?"
"Eight months. Since before the wedding. He never—Joon-ho never—" She choked on the name. "He never wanted to. Even before we got married. He said it was… messy. He said he preferred—"
"Preferred what?"
"His hand. His own hand. While I lay next to him pretending to be asleep." The confession hung in the air. You looked at the perfect curve of her ass, the trembling muscles of her thighs, the slick heat of her cunt that some man had decided wasn't worth his time. "His loss," you said. "Don't move." You positioned yourself behind her, kneeling between her spread legs. The position gave you a view of everything—the long line of her spine, the flare of her hips, the dark cleft of her ass, and at the center of it all, her cunt. Swollen. Wet. Waiting.
"Two fingers," you said. "I'm going to put two fingers inside you. And you're going to scream into that pillow." Karina grabbed the pillow and pulled it to her face. You pushed your middle finger into her first.
The heat was staggering. Tight—god, she was tight—but so wet that your finger slid in to the second knuckle without resistance. Her inner walls clenched around the intrusion, a rippling squeeze that traveled from base to tip. Karina's back arched. A strangled sound escaped the pillow.
"One," you said. "Here comes the second."
Your index finger joined the first. The stretch made her gasp—a sharp intake of air that she cut off by biting the pillow. You pushed both fingers deep, curling them upward, searching for the rough patch of tissue that would make her see stars.
You found it.
Karina screamed.
The sound was muffled by the pillow but still loud enough to echo in the vast bedroom. Her hips bucked backward, driving your fingers deeper. Her cunt clamped down with a force that made your knuckles ache.
"There it is," you murmured. "That's what you needed, isn't it? Someone to find it. Someone to touch it. Someone who isn't afraid of a little mess."
"Don't stop—please don't stop—"
You didn't stop. You fucked her with your fingers in slow, deep strokes, curling them against that spot every time you bottomed out. The wet sounds were obscene—a slick, squelching rhythm that filled the room. Her juices coated your hand, dripped down your wrist, pooled on the sheets beneath her.
"Listen to yourself," you said. "Listen to how wet you are. You sound like a—"
"Like a whore." The word came out muffled but clear. "Say it. I want you to say it."
"You sound like a whore. A dripping, desperate whore who's been neglected for eight months and finally has someone's fingers in her cunt."
Karina moaned—a long, wavering sound that rose in pitch as you increased your pace. Her fingers clawed at the sheets. Her ass lifted higher, presenting herself more openly, and you watched her cunt stretch around your fingers, the lips clinging to your knuckles every time you pulled back.
"More," she gasped. "More. I need more. I need—"
"You need what?"
"I need to come. Please. Please let me come. I've been so good. I swallowed everything. I didn't spill a drop. Please."
You slowed your fingers. Stopped them entirely, buried to the hilt inside her.
Karina whimpered. "No—no, why did you stop—"
"Because I want to hear you beg properly." You leaned down, your lips brushing the shell of her ear. "You're not Karina right now. You're not an idol. You're just a wet hole that wants to be filled. So beg like one."
A shudder ran through her body. Her voice, when it came, was smaller than before—stripped of the polish, stripped of everything except raw, naked need.
"Please fuck me with your fingers. Please make me come. I've been empty for so long. I've been so empty and so lonely and the only thing that's made me feel anything in months is your cock in my throat and your fingers on my nipples and now I need—I need you to let me finish. I need to feel something break inside me. Please. I'm begging you. I'm begging like the desperate slut I am. Please."
"Good girl."
You resumed fucking her with your fingers. Faster this time. Harder. The curl against her G-spot became a pounding rhythm, and Karina's whole body began to shake. Her thighs quivered. Her ass clenched and unclenched. The pillow was soaked with saliva and tears.
"I'm close—I'm so close—"
You pulled your fingers out.
"No!" The word was a howl. Her cunt gaped for a moment, empty and clenching on nothing, and then she collapsed forward onto the mattress. "Why? Why did you—I was right there—"
"Turn over."
She rolled onto her back. Her face was a wreck—eyes wild and glassy, cheeks blotchy with tears, lips still swollen from the blowjob. Her chest heaved. Her nipples stood out like dark berries against the pale swell of her breasts.
"Spread your legs."
She did. Her cunt was even more obscene from this angle—the lips engorged and spread, the inner flesh a slick, vivid pink, the hood of her clitoris pulled back to reveal the pearl beneath. Everything glistened.
"Touch yourself."
Karina's hand flew to her cunt. Her fingers found her clit and began rubbing in tight, frantic circles. Her other hand grabbed her breast, squeezing, pinching the nipple.
"That's it. Show me how you make yourself come when you're alone in this empty house."
"It's always you," she panted. "Not you—not you specifically—but someone. Someone who isn't him. Someone who wants me. I imagine—I imagine being taken. Being used. Being ruined." Her circles grew faster. "I imagine a stranger's cock. A stranger's hands. I imagine being bent over and fucked until I can't walk. Until I can't think. Until I forget my own name."
"And does your husband ever make you come?"
"Never. Not once. Not even—not even when we—ah—"
"Don't stop. Keep rubbing."
Her fingers were a blur on her clit. Her hips lifted off the mattress. The muscles in her stomach stood out in sharp definition. She was close again—you could see it in the flush spreading across her chest, the way her mouth fell open, the frantic, jerky movements of her hand.
"Please," she gasped. "Please let me—"
"Stop."
Her hand froze. A sound came out of her that wasn't human—a guttural, animal keen of pure frustration. Her clit twitched visibly, denied its release. Her cunt spasmed, squeezing around nothing, gushing a fresh surge of fluid that soaked the sheets.
"Fuck!" She slammed her fist against the mattress. "Fuck, fuck, fuck—"
You grabbed her wrist and pinned it above her head. "Look at me."
Karina's eyes met yours. They were wet and desperate and furious and grateful all at once.
"You said you wanted to be ruined. Ruined doesn't mean easy. Ruined doesn't mean I let you come the moment you ask nicely. Ruined means I take you apart piece by piece until there's nothing left but the animal underneath. Do you understand?"
"Yes." The word was barely a whisper.
"Do you still want this?"
"God, yes. Yes. Ruin me. Please. I want to be ruined."
You released her wrist. "Then get on your hands and knees. I want to see all of you."
Karina scrambled into position. The movement was ungraceful, uncoordinated—the idol's dancer precision abandoned in favor of pure, sloppy need. She presented herself on all fours, her back arched, her ass lifted high. The position opened her completely—her cunt a dark, wet gash between her thighs, her asshole a tight pink knot, everything glistening with the evidence of her arousal.
"Spread your ass cheeks."
Her hands reached back. Her fingers dug into the full flesh of her buttocks and pulled them apart, exposing herself more completely. The vulnerability of the gesture made your cock throb.
"Wider."
She stretched herself open until the pink of her cunt gaped slightly, until you could see the dark entrance of her body, the place where her wetness pooled and dripped in a slow, viscous thread onto the sheets.
"Please," she breathed. "Please ruin my pussy. I need your cock. I need it inside me. I've needed it since you walked through my door. Since before that. Since I first saw your picture in the agency file. Please. Fuck me. Fuck me like you hate me. Fuck me like I'm nothing."
You positioned yourself behind her.
Your cock was fully hard again—thick and veined, the head an angry purple, a bead of precum already forming at the slit. You gripped the base and ran the tip along her slit, coating yourself in her slick. The contact made her shudder.
"Is this what you want?"
"Yes—"
You pushed the head against her entrance. The heat of her cunt kissed the tip of your cock.
"Say it again. Louder."
"YES. Fuck me. Please fuck me. Ruin my pussy. I want to feel you in my womb. I want to feel you for days. I want to walk into my next schedule and still feel where you've been. Please—"
You thrust forward.
One motion. No gradual entry. No easing her open. You buried yourself to the hilt in a single, brutal stroke, and Karina's plea dissolved into a scream that had no words in it.
Her cunt was impossibly tight. The wet heat of her gripped every inch of you—a clenching, rippling pressure that traveled from base to tip. You felt the head of your cock butt against her cervix, felt the resistant give of that deepest barrier, and then you pushed past it.
Karina's scream pitched higher.
"Oh fuck—oh fuck, you're so deep—you're in my—"
"Your womb. I know."
You stayed there for a moment, buried to the root, letting her body adjust to the intrusion. Her inner walls fluttered around your shaft—spasms of sensation that were half pleasure, half shock. Her fingers were still digging into her ass cheeks, holding herself open, and you could see exactly where your bodies joined. The stretched ring of her cunt. The way her lips clung to the base of your cock. The shine of her fluids on your skin.
"You're taking all of it," you said. "Every inch. You feel that? Feel how deep I am?"
"Yes—yes, I feel it—I feel you in my stomach—"
"Good."
You pulled back. The drag of her walls against your shaft made your vision swim. Then you slammed forward again, harder than before, and Karina's head dropped between her shoulders, her whole body rocking forward from the force.
"AH—"
"Again."
Another thrust. Harder. The sound of your bodies colliding was a wet slap that echoed off the bedroom walls. Her ass rippled with the impact. Her breasts swung beneath her.
"You wanted to be ruined," you growled, gripping her hips. "So I'm going to ruin you. I'm going to fuck this tight little cunt until you can't remember your own name. Until you can't remember his name. Until the only thing in your head is my cock and how deep it is and how hard I'm using you."
"Yes—yes—fuck—harder—"
You gave her harder.
The rhythm you set was brutal—deep, driving strokes that bottomed out against her cervix with every thrust. The wet sounds of her cunt filled the room. Your balls slapped against her clit. Sweat dripped from your forehead onto her back, tracing rivulets down her spine.
Karina was making sounds that didn't belong to any language. Guttural moans. High-pitched whines. Broken syllables that might have been words if she'd had enough control to form them. Her fingers had released her ass cheeks and were now fisting in the sheets, knuckles white, arms trembling.
"Look at you. The most famous idol in Korea. On her hands and knees. Getting her pussy destroyed by a stranger. Moaning like an animal. This is what you needed, isn't it? Not the fame. Not the money. Not the perfect husband and the perfect house. This. Just this. Just a cock in your cunt and someone who knows how to use it."
"YES—YES, THIS—THIS IS WHAT I—OH FUCK—"
You reached around her body and found her clit. The bundle of nerves was swollen and slick, hard as a pebble under your fingertip. You pressed down and circled—not gently, not teasingly, but with the same brutal intensity as your thrusts.
Karina's whole body convulsed.
The orgasm hit her like a wave breaking against rocks. Her cunt clamped down on your cock with a force that almost hurt—a rhythmic, pulsing squeeze that traveled in waves from her core outward. Her back arched impossibly. Her head flew up, mouth open in a silent scream, eyes rolled back so far that only the whites were visible.
Then the sound came. A wail. A keening, animal cry that started low in her chest and rose to fill the room. Her arms gave out. She collapsed forward onto the mattress, but you followed her down, never stopping, never slowing, fucking her through the orgasm with the same relentless pace.
"Thaaaat's it—don't stop—don't stop—don't—I can't—it's too much—"
"You can take it. You wanted to be ruined. You're going to take every thrust until I'm done with you."
"It's too much—it's—oh god—OH GOD—"
A second orgasm crashed over her before the first had fully subsided. This one was stronger—violent, almost. Her cunt gushed around your cock, soaking your thighs, soaking the sheets. Her screams dissolved into sobs. Her body shook with a force that seemed to come from somewhere deeper than muscle, somewhere primal.
"Please—please—I can't—I can't take any more—"
"One more. Give me one more."
"I can't—I can't—"
"You can. Feel that? Feel how deep I am? Feel how full you are? That's what you needed. Not his empty house. Not his empty promises. This. A cock that fills you up. A body that knows how to use yours. Come for me again, Karina. Come on this cock like the desperate whore you told me you are."
Her response was unintelligible. A stream of syllables that might have been Korean, might have been English, might have been neither. A confession. A prayer. A surrender.
You drove into her harder—deeper, if that was even possible—and pressed your thumb against her clit. The stimulation was merciless. Her cunt seized around you. Her sobs pitched higher.
And then she shattered.
This orgasm was different from the others. Quieter. Deeper. Her body went rigid for a long, suspended moment—every muscle locked, every breath held. Then the release came, and it came with a flood. Her cunt gushed around your shaft—not just wetness this time, but a clear, copious fluid that sprayed against your thighs and soaked into the mattress beneath her.
Karina's voice broke on a single word: "Fuuuuck—"
Her body went limp. Completely limp. She collapsed into the wet sheets, her chest heaving, her limbs twitching with aftershocks. Her cunt still pulsed weakly around your cock—little flutters of sensation that traveled up your shaft.
You slowed your thrusts. Eased to a stop. Buried yourself deep inside her one last time and held there, feeling the heat of her body, the slick grip of her cunt, the violent thudding of her heart that you could feel through the walls of her core.
The room was silent except for her breathing—ragged, broken gasps that gradually slowed to something approaching normal.
"Are you still with me?" you asked.
A long pause. Then, muffled by the mattress: "I don't know. I think so. I think… I think that was…"
"That was what?"
"That was the first time. The first time anyone's ever—" She swallowed. The movement traveled through her whole body. "The first time anyone's ever made me come. Not just during sex. Ever."
You pulled out slowly. Her cunt made a wet, sucking sound as you withdrew—reluctant, almost, as if her body didn't want to let you go. A gush of fluid followed, clear and viscous, pooling on the already-soaked sheets.
Karina whimpered at the emptiness.
"Turn over," you said. "Look at me."
It took her a moment to find the strength. When she finally rolled onto her back, the sight of her made your chest tighten.
She was wrecked. Absolutely wrecked. Her face was blotchy with tears, her eyes swollen and glassy. Her lips—still puffy from the blowjob—were parted, a thin trail of drool connecting the corner of her mouth to her chin. Her nipples were dark and angry-looking, surrounded by faint marks where your fingers had been. Her thighs were slick with her own fluids. Her cunt gaped slightly, the lips engorged and spread, still pulsing with aftershocks.
She had never looked more beautiful.
"Thank you," she whispered.
"You don't have to thank me."
"I know. I want to." Her voice was hoarse—fucked raw, used up. "I've been numb for so long. I didn't even realize how numb until… until you made me feel all of this. The pain. The pleasure. The—the shame. The humiliation. I felt all of it. I'm still feeling it."
"And right now? How do you feel?"
Karina's eyes found yours. The glassiness was fading, replaced by something clearer. Something almost peaceful.
"Full," she said. "And sore. And wet. And tired. And…" A pause. "Alive. I feel alive."
You reached down and brushed a strand of sweat-damp hair away from her forehead. The gesture was gentle—a stark contrast to everything you'd just done to her body.
"Good," you said. "Because we're still not finished."
Her eyes widened. Then, slowly, a smile spread across her wrecked face—small and fragile and utterly genuine.
"I know," she said. "I was counting on it."
The shower was a rainfall fixture, wide enough for two, the water coming down in a steady, warm curtain. Steam fogged the glass enclosure. You stood behind Karina, cupping water in your palms and letting it run down her back. The rivulets tracked the geography you'd already memorized—the dip of her spine, the flare of her hips, the twin dimples just above the swell of her ass.
She leaned against the marble wall, forehead pressed to the cool stone.
"I can't feel my legs," she mumbled.
"That's normal."
"Is it?" A laugh, breathy and exhausted. "Good to know."
You reached for the body wash—something expensive, sandalwood and bergamot—and worked it into a lather between your hands. When you touched her shoulders, Karina sighed. The sound was different from the ones that had filled the bedroom an hour ago. Softer. Quieter. The sigh of a body that had been wrung dry and was finally allowed to rest.
Your hands moved down her back in slow circles. Over the faint red marks your fingers had left on her hips. Across the small of her back where sweat had pooled and dried. Down to the curve of her ass, where you kneaded the muscle with careful pressure.
"You're going to be sore tomorrow," you said.
"Good." Her voice was muffled against the marble. "I want to be sore. I want to remember."
"Remember what?"
She turned around. Water sluiced down her front, plastering her hair to her neck and shoulders. The mascara she hadn't been wearing was long gone, but her eyes were still rimmed with red, still slightly swollen. The marks on her nipples had darkened. Her lips—still puffy, still that deep bruised rose—curved into something that wasn't quite a smile.
"That I'm a real person. That someone wanted me. That for a few hours, I wasn't just a photograph."
You cupped her face. Your thumbs traced her cheekbones. "You were never just a photograph."
"You know what I mean."
"I do." You leaned down and kissed her forehead. Then the bridge of her nose. Then each eyelid, feather-light, the way you'd close a book you weren't finished reading. "But you need to hear it anyway. You're not what he made you feel. You were never what he made you feel."
Karina's breath shuddered out. Fresh tears mixed with the shower water—silent ones this time, not the wrenching sobs from before. She didn't answer. Didn't need to. You held her there in the steam until the water started to cool.
Later, wrapped in a robe that probably cost more than your monthly car payment, Karina walked you to the front door.
The foyer was different now. Less cavernous. The unopened flowers still sat on the console table, but something about them had shifted—they looked less like an accusation and more like a relic. A fossil from a life she was leaving behind.
She pressed a small folded paper into your palm.
"My real number," she said. "Not the one the agency has. Not the one my manager screens." Her fingers lingered on your wrist. "Call me. Or text me. I don't care which. Just… don't disappear."
You unfolded the paper. The handwriting was neat, precise—idol training, probably, years of signing autographs until every stroke was perfect. Ten digits. No name. She didn't need one.
"I won't disappear," you said.
"You say that now."
"I mean it." You caught her hand and lifted it to your lips. Kissed her knuckles. Then the inside of her wrist, where the skin was thin and the pulse still fluttered. "You survived eight months of being invisible in your own house. The least I can do is answer a text."
She laughed—a real one this time, short and surprised. "That's a low bar."
"I'm a simple man."
Karina pulled her hand back, but slowly, the way you set down something fragile. "Go. Before I ask you to stay."
You didn't say goodbye. The training had taught you better than that. Goodbye implied an ending, and endings were the one thing clients like Karina didn't need more of. Instead you stepped out into the cool night air, the paper clutched in your hand, and let the door click shut behind you.
Three weeks passed.
Senior Park called on a Tuesday.
"New client," he said, the way he always did—like he was offering you a gift and daring you to guess what was inside. "Young. Married. The usual story."
"The usual story" had become a kind of shorthand between you. Rich husband. Neglected wife. A mansion full of expensive things and no warmth. You'd heard it so many times now that the details blurred together—only the faces changed, and even those were starting to feel familiar. Actresses. Idols. The wives of men who'd acquired beauty like a stock portfolio and then forgotten to check on it.
"Who is it?" you asked.
A pause. Park was savoring this.
"Jang Wonyoung."
The name hit you like a bucket of cold water.
"Wonyoung? From IVE?"
"The one and only." You could hear the grin in his voice. "Married at twenty-eight. To Kim Seok-joong. The producer. You know him?"
Everyone knew him. Kim Seok-joong had produced half the hits on the charts for the last five years—a genius behind the mixing board, a tyrant in the studio, and, according to every rumor mill in the industry, a man who treated marriage vows like a suggestion. The tabloids had run photos of him leaving clubs with trainees young enough to be his daughters. Wonyoung's name always appeared in the same articles, usually paired with words like "humiliated" and "trapped."
"She called us directly," Park continued. "Apparently she heard about us through a mutual acquaintance. Someone who spoke very highly of your work."
You thought of Karina. Of the paper still folded in your wallet.
"Mutual acquaintance?"
"I don't ask. I don't want to know. I just make the arrangements." The rustle of paper on his end. "She's in Hannam-dong. The penthouse. Tomorrow night, nine o'clock. Don't be late."
The line went dead.
Hannam-dong at night was a different kind of wealth than the gated mansions of the suburbs. Here the money went vertical—glass towers that stabbed into the sky, each floor a monument to someone's ambition. The penthouse elevator required a code, which Senior Park had texted you an hour earlier along with a single line: She's nervous. Go slow.
The elevator ascended in silence. No muzak. No mirrored walls. Just brushed steel and the soft hum of hydraulics. You watched the floor numbers climb and tried not to think about the fact that Jang Wonyoung was waiting at the top of this building. Jang Wonyoung, who'd debuted at fourteen and been famous before she could legally drive. Jang Wonyoung, whose face had sold a million magazines. Jang Wonyoung, who'd married a man twice her age and apparently regretted it before the ink on the certificate was dry.
The doors opened onto a private foyer.
The penthouse was smaller than Karina's mansion—everything in Seoul was smaller than Karina's mansion—but it made up for it in verticality. Floor-to-ceiling windows looked out over the Han River, the city lights reflected in the water like scattered coins. The furniture was minimalist: a low white sofa, a glass coffee table, a single orchid in a concrete pot. No photographs. No personal touches. It looked less like a home and more like a hotel suite where someone had been staying for too long.
Wonyoung stood at the window with her back to you.
She was taller than you'd expected. Taller than she looked on stage, where the camera angles and the choreography and the other members had a way of shrinking her. In person, barefoot on the marble floor, she was statuesque—long legs, a narrow waist, the kind of proportions that designers fought to dress. She wore an ivory silk robe that fell to her ankles, her dark hair loose and straight, still damp at the ends as if she'd just showered.
"It's a nice view," you said.
She didn't turn around. "I used to think so."
Her voice was different from Karina's. Lower. Flatter. Where Karina's words had crackled with suppressed fury, Wonyoung's came out like the air leaking from a tire—slow, deflated, resigned.
You stepped further into the room. "Senior Park said you wanted to meet me."
"Meet you." A short laugh. "That's a polite way of putting it."
"I can leave."
"Can you?" Now she turned. The sight of her face hit you like a physical force—the kind of beauty that felt almost aggressive, all sharp angles and full lips and eyes that were too big for her face. But there was something hollow behind them. Something that had been scooped out and never filled back in. "You can leave. You can stay. You can do whatever you want. I'm just… here."
"How long have you been 'just here'?"
Wonyoung crossed her arms over her chest. The robe was silk, thin enough that you could see the outline of her body beneath it—the curve of her breasts, the flat plane of her stomach, the long lines of her thighs. She wasn't trying to be seductive. She wasn't trying to be anything. That was the most unsettling part.
"A year," she said. "Maybe longer. I stopped counting."
"A year of what?"
"Of waiting. Of pretending. Of showing up to award shows on his arm while everyone in the audience knows he fucked one of his backup dancers the night before." Her jaw tightened. "Do you know what that's like? To smile for cameras while your husband's mistress is standing ten feet away, adjusting her earpiece?"
You didn't answer. You'd learned with Karina that sometimes the best response was no response—just the space to let the words hang in the air until they lost their poison.
Wonyoung uncrossed her arms. Let them fall to her sides. "I'm not looking for sympathy."
"Then what are you looking for?"
"The same thing everyone who calls your agency is looking for." She met your eyes, and for a moment the hollowness flickered—replaced by something harder. Something almost defiant. "I want to feel like I exist. Like I'm not just… a decoration. A trophy. Something he acquired and then forgot about."
"How old are you?"
"Twenty-nine."
"And how old is he?"
A pause. "Fifty-two."
You let the number sit there. Fifty-two. Older than her father, probably. Old enough to know better. Old enough to treat a twenty-eight-year-old bride like a collectible—desirable right up until the moment the paperwork was signed, and then irrelevant.
"What does he say when you confront him?" you asked.
Wonyoung's laugh was empty. "He doesn't. He just… leaves. Goes to the studio. Comes back three days later smelling like someone else's perfume. And I'm supposed to pretend I don't notice. I'm supposed to be grateful. He made my career, after all. Half my songs were his. Half my image. Half my life." Her voice cracked on the last word. "I was nineteen when I met him. I didn't know anything. I thought it was love."
"What do you think it was now?"
"Ownership." The word came out flat. "He didn't want a wife. He wanted a muse. Something beautiful to inspire him. And now he's inspired by someone else, and I'm just… here. In this penthouse. With this view. Waiting for him to come home and pretending I don't know where he's been."
You moved closer. Not close enough to touch—not yet—but close enough that she had to tilt her head slightly to keep meeting your eyes.
"What do you want from tonight?"
Wonyoung held your gaze. The defiance was back, stronger now, warring with the exhaustion. "I want to stop waiting. I want to be touched by someone who actually wants to touch me. I want…" She swallowed. "I want to feel like a woman instead of a photograph. Does that make sense?"
"Perfect sense."
"And you can do that? You can… give me that?"
"I can give you whatever you're willing to take." You held out your hand, palm up, the same way you had with Karina three weeks ago. "But I need to hear you say it. I need to know you're sure."
Wonyoung looked at your hand. The hesitation was visible—the same hesitation every client had, the moment before they crossed the line from thinking about it to doing it. The moment where the life they'd been living warred with the life they wanted.
Then she took it.
"I'm sure," she said. "I've been sure for six months. I just didn't know who to call."
"Your safeword?"
"Red."
"And if you can't speak?"
"Three taps. Anywhere you can feel them."
Her palm was cool against yours. Her fingers were long and slender—pianist's fingers, though you knew she didn't play. The silk of her robe brushed against your wrist.
"Before we start," you said, "I want you to know something."
"What?"
"This isn't about your husband. This isn't about revenge. This isn't about making him feel what you've been feeling." You squeezed her hand gently. "This is about you. Right now. In this room. Nothing else exists. Do you understand?"
Wonyoung's lips parted. For a moment she looked younger—not twenty-nine, but nineteen again, standing in a studio somewhere and believing that the famous producer who'd noticed her was offering her the world.
"I understand," she said.
"Good. Now take off the robe."
She released your hand. Her fingers went to the sash at her waist, the silk loosening with a whisper. The robe slipped off her shoulders. Pooled at her feet.
Underneath she wore nothing at all.
Her body was long and lean, with the kind of proportions that seemed almost impossible outside of a magazine spread. Small, high breasts with nipples the color of pale tea. A waist that nipped in dramatically before flaring into hips that had launched a thousand fan cams. Long legs, smooth and toned, the muscles of a dancer visible beneath the skin. A dark triangle of hair at the junction of her thighs, neatly trimmed.
But what struck you most wasn't the beauty. It was the stillness. Karina had been trembling with suppressed energy, her body practically vibrating with need. Wonyoung stood completely motionless, her arms at her sides, her expression unreadable. She looked like a statue—beautiful and cold and utterly detached from the body she occupied.
"You're very beautiful," you said.
"I know." Not arrogant. Just… factual. "People tell me that a lot."
"Do you believe them?"
A flicker of something—surprise, maybe, or confusion. "What?"
"Do you believe them? When they tell you you're beautiful. Do you feel beautiful?"
Wonyoung's brow furrowed. "I don't… I don't know what you mean."
"I think you do." You circled her slowly, the way you'd circle a sculpture in a gallery. "You've been told you're beautiful your whole life. It's on every magazine cover. Every comment section. Every introduction. But when you look in the mirror, what do you see?"
Her voice was quieter now. "I see what everyone else sees."
"That's not what I asked."
You stopped behind her. The view from here was just as striking—the sweep of her back, the curve of her ass, the way her hair fell in a dark curtain between her shoulder blades. She hadn't turned to follow you. She was still facing the window, still looking at the river and the lights.
"I asked what you see," you continued. "Not what they see. Not what the cameras see. What you see."
The silence stretched. Outside, a boat moved across the Han River, its lights reflecting in the dark water.
"Nothing," Wonyoung said finally. "I see nothing. I see a body that exists to be looked at. A face that exists to be photographed. When I look in the mirror, I don't see a person. I see…" She trailed off.
"A product."
"Yes." The word was barely audible. "A product. Something that was packaged and sold before I understood what I was agreeing to."
You stepped closer. Close enough that the heat of your body registered against her bare back. Close enough that if she leaned back even an inch, she'd be touching you.
"That ends tonight," you said. "Tonight, you're not a product. You're not a photograph. You're not what your husband neglected or what the cameras captured. You're a woman. Just a woman. And I'm going to make you feel like one."
Wonyoung's breathing had changed. Shallower. Faster. Her shoulders rose and fell in the window's reflection.
"How?" she asked.
"First, I'm going to touch you. Not the way a photographer touches you. Not the way a stylist touches you. I'm going to touch you the way a man touches a woman he wants." You raised your hand and let it hover just above her shoulder—not making contact, but close enough that she could feel the heat of your palm. "And you're going to stand right here and let yourself feel it. All of it. Every sensation. Do you understand?"
Her voice was a whisper. "Yes."
"Good."
You let your hand settle on her shoulder.
The contact was light—just your palm against her skin, your fingers curving over the ridge of her collarbone. But Wonyoung's reaction was immediate. Her breath stuttered. Her spine stiffened. The muscles beneath your hand went rigid, then slowly, gradually, began to soften.
"When's the last time someone touched you?" you asked.
"I don't…" She swallowed. "I don't remember."
"Months?"
"Longer. Before the wedding, maybe. He was… interested then. Before he had me. After that…" She shook her head.
You moved your hand down her arm. Slowly. Deliberately. Letting your fingers trace the curve of her bicep, the dip of her elbow, the smooth skin of her forearm. Goosebumps rose in the wake of your touch.
"Close your eyes," you said.
She did. Her lashes swept down against her cheeks, dark against the pale skin.
"Now I want you to focus on what you're feeling. Not what you're thinking. Not what you're worried about. Just the physical sensation. My hand on your skin. The heat of my body behind you. The cool air on the rest of you. Can you do that?"
"I can try."
"Don't try. Just do."
You brought your other hand to her waist. The silk of the robe had been thin, but her bare skin was thinner—softer, warmer, alive in a way the fabric never could be. You felt the slight give of flesh over muscle, the delicate architecture of her ribs. Wonyoung's lips parted. A tremor ran through her.
"Good," you murmured. "That's it. Stay present. Stay here."
Your hands moved together now—one sliding up to cup her breast, the other tracing the curve of her hip. The contact was gentle, almost reverent. You weren't trying to arouse her yet. You were trying to wake her up. To remind her body that it was capable of sensation beyond the clinical touches of stylists and makeup artists and the indifferent hands of a husband who'd long since stopped seeing her as anything but an acquisition.
Her breast was small and firm, fitting perfectly in your palm. The nipple was already tightening—an involuntary response, the body's language for yes, this, more. You circled it with your thumb, not quite touching the peak, letting the anticipation build.
"Oh," she breathed. Just that. Just the single syllable, but it was the most human sound she'd made since you'd arrived.
"You feel that?"
"Yes."
"What does it feel like?"
"Warm. It feels… warm. And tingly. Like—like pins and needles, but soft."
"That's your body waking up." You brushed your thumb across her nipple, finally making contact. The peak was hard now, pebbled and tight. Wonyoung's breath caught. Her hips shifted—an instinctive movement, barely conscious. "That's your body remembering what it feels like to be touched."
"Don't stop," she whispered.
"I'm not stopping. I'm just getting started."
You turned her around to face you. Her eyes were still closed, her lips slightly parted, a flush spreading across her chest. The cool, detached statue from five minutes ago was already beginning to thaw.
"Open your eyes," you said.
She did. The hollowness was still there, but it had receded slightly—pushed back by something warmer. Something hungrier.
"Lie down on the bed," you said. "On your back. I'm going to touch every inch of you, and you're going to stay present for all of it. No disappearing. No retreating into your head. You're going to feel everything. Do you understand?"
Wonyoung's voice was steadier now. "Yes."
"Good. Then let's begin."
She walked toward the bedroom—the same statuesque stride, but looser now, less guarded. The ivory robe stayed in a puddle on the floor behind her, already forgotten.
You followed her. The penthouse bedroom was all windows on one side, the city lights glittering below like a mirror image of the stars. A king-sized bed dominated the center of the room. White sheets. Too many pillows. The same story, different setting.
Wonyoung lay down in the center of the mattress. Arranged herself with her arms at her sides, her hair spread across the pillow, her legs slightly apart. The position was almost clinical—like she was posing for a photograph. Muscle memory.
"Relax your arms," you said. "Above your head."
She lifted them. The movement pulled her breasts higher, flattened her stomach.
"Close your eyes."
Her lashes swept down.
You knelt on the bed beside her. In the silence, you could hear her breathing—quicker than before, but still controlled. Still holding onto something. You would need to break through that control. Not with force. With patience. With attention. With the kind of touch she'd been starved of for years.
"Now," you said, letting your hand hover over her stomach. "Let's find out what Jang Wonyoung feels like when she stops being a photograph and starts being a woman."
Your palm settled on her skin.
And Wonyoung began to tremble.
Your palm settled on Wonyoung's stomach.
The trembling started small—a flutter of muscle beneath warm skin—then spread outward, rippling through her thighs, her belly, the flat plane of her chest. She kept her eyes closed, arms still arranged above her head in that posing-for-a-photograph way that had become second nature.
"You're shaking," you said.
"I know." Her voice was thinner now. "I can't seem to stop."
"Don't stop. Let it happen."
Your hand moved in a slow circle, tracing the faint definition of her abdominal muscles. The skin here was softer than you'd expected—yielding, warm, the kind of softness that came from being young and healthy and well-cared-for in every way except the one that mattered. Wonyoung's breath stuttered when your palm grazed the bottom of her ribcage.
"What are you feeling?"
"Your hand." A pause. "It's… warmer than I expected."
"What else?"
"I don't know. It's been so long since—" She swallowed. The movement traveled down her throat, a subtle ripple. "Since anyone touched me without an agenda. My stylists touch me to adjust my clothes. Photographers touch me to fix my hair. Seok-joong…" The name came out like a curse. "He doesn't touch me at all."
You traced the lower curve of her breast. Not the nipple—not yet—just the swell where her chest began to rise. The skin was impossibly smooth, pale as cream in the city light streaming through the windows.
"When's the last time you touched yourself?"
Wonyoung's eyes opened. The question had surprised her. "What?"
"You heard me."
"I don't…" Her brow furrowed. "I don't do that."
"You don't masturbate?"
The word made her flinch. A tiny recoil, barely visible, but you caught it. "That's not something I—I mean, I've never really—"
"Never?" You kept your hand where it was, still and warm against the curve of her breast. "You've never made yourself come?"
Wonyoung closed her eyes again. A flush was spreading from her chest up her neck, blooming across her collarbones like spilled wine. "Once. Maybe twice. A long time ago. Before I debuted. Before everything got so…" She trailed off.
"So controlled."
"Yes."
"Show me."
Her eyes flew open. "What?"
"Sit up." You withdrew your hand and sat back on your heels. "I want to watch you touch yourself. I want to see how Jang Wonyoung pleasures her own body when no one else is looking."
The hesitation was visible—a war playing out behind her eyes. The trained idol, the curated image, the woman who'd spent her entire adult life being looked at without ever being touched. Then something shifted. A crack in the facade. Her lips parted.
"Okay," she whispered.
She sat up slowly. The movement was graceful despite her trembling—dancer's muscle memory, the body knowing what to do even when the mind was unmoored. She propped herself against the headboard, the white sheets pooling around her hips. Her breasts were small and high on her chest, the nipples still tight from your earlier attention.
"Lie back," you said. "Spread your legs. Let me see all of you."
Wonyoung arranged herself against the pillows. Her thighs parted with visible reluctance—not resistance, but the shyness of a woman who'd been taught that her body was a commodity, not a source of pleasure. The dark triangle of hair between her legs was neatly trimmed, the lips beneath barely visible in the dim light.
"Touch your breasts first," you said. "The way you like it."
Her hands lifted. The movement was hesitant, almost clinical, like she was examining herself rather than pleasuring herself. Her fingers brushed her nipples and she gasped—a sharp, surprised sound.
"That's it. They're sensitive, aren't they?"
"Yes—I didn't know—no one's ever—"
"No one's ever played with your nipples?"
"No." The word came out strangled. Her fingers circled the tight peaks, tracing the areolae with tentative strokes. "Seok-joong said breasts were for—ah—for looking at. Not for—"
"Not for touching."
"Not for touching."
You watched her hands grow bolder. The circles became pinches—gentle at first, then harder, the way you'd done earlier. Her back arched slightly. Her mouth fell open.
"Good girl. Now move one hand lower. Touch yourself between your legs."
Wonyoung's right hand slid down her stomach. The trembling was worse now—her whole body vibrating with a tension that had nothing to do with cold and everything to do with the forbidden nature of what she was doing. Her fingers reached the dark curls and stopped.
"I don't know if I can—"
"You can. Part your lips for me. Show me your cunt."
The vulgar word made her gasp. But her fingers obeyed—they slid through the trimmed hair, parted the outer lips, exposed the pink flesh within. Even from where you knelt, you could see the gleam of moisture. The way her inner lips clung together, then separated with a wet, sticky sound.
"You're wet," you said. "You're wet and you haven't even touched your clit yet."
"Is that—is that normal?"
"It's more than normal. It's beautiful. You're beautiful." You leaned closer. "Now find your clit. The little pearl at the top. Touch it."
Wonyoung's middle finger found the swollen bud. The contact made her whole body jerk. A sound escaped her—half moan, half whimper—and her thighs snapped shut around her hand.
"Keep them open. I want to watch."
"I can't—it's too—"
"You can. Open your legs, Wonyoung. Let me see what your body does when you stop being a photograph."
She forced her thighs apart. The effort was visible—muscles trembling, breath coming in sharp, ragged bursts. Her finger began to circle her clit in slow, tentative strokes. The hood pulled back with each pass, revealing the slick pearl beneath. Her other hand stayed on her breast, pinching and rolling the nipple in counterpoint.
"There," she breathed. "Oh—there—that feels—"
"What does it feel like?"
"Tight. Hot. Like—like something's building. Like I need to—" Her circling grew faster. "Like I need to—"
"You need to come."
"Yes." The word was a sob. "Yes. I need to come. Please. I've never—not with anyone watching—not with anyone—"
"Come for me, Wonyoung. Let go. I've got you."
Her body seized. Her back arched off the mattress, her head thrown back, her mouth open in a silent scream. The hand between her legs moved frantically—rubbing, pressing, chasing the climax that was crashing over her. A keening sound escaped her throat, high and desperate.
Then she collapsed.
Her chest heaved. Her thighs quivered. The hand on her breast fell away, and the other remained pressed against her cunt—not moving now, just holding, as if she couldn't bear to let go of the sensation.
"That was your first orgasm with an audience," you said.
Wonyoung's laugh was breathless, almost giddy. "That was my first orgasm. Period. I don't think the other times—I don't think they were real. Not like that."
"Not like that."
"No." She opened her eyes and looked at you. The hollowness was gone—replaced by something brighter, something almost hungry. "I want more. I want—" She swallowed. "I want you inside me. But I want to be in control. Just this once. I want to decide."
You raised an eyebrow. "You want to ride me."
"Yes." The word came out stronger now. "I've spent my whole life being positioned. Being told where to stand and how to pose and what to wear. I want—just this once—I want to be the one who decides. Does that make sense?"
"It makes perfect sense."
You stood up from the bed and unbuckled your pants. Wonyoung watched with open curiosity—the way her eyes tracked the movement of your hands, the way her lips parted when you pushed your boxers down and your cock sprang free. She'd seen it earlier, of course, but now she looked at it differently. Like she was sizing it up. Like she was planning.
"It's thicker than I thought," she murmured.
"Is that a problem?"
"No." A small smile played at the corner of her mouth. "It's just… I've never seen one this close before. Not like this. Seok-joong and I—the few times we—it was always in the dark. Always over quickly. He never let me look."
"Look all you want."
She did. Her gaze traveled the length of your shaft—the vein that pulsed along the underside, the ridge of the head, the way the skin pulled tight when you were fully hard. Her tongue darted out and wet her lips.
"Lie down," she said. "On your back."
You obeyed. The sheets were cool against your shoulders. Wonyoung rose on her knees and swung one long leg over your hips, straddling you. The position put her cunt directly above your cock—you could see the pink of her inner lips, still slick from her orgasm, still parted and ready. A drop of her arousal fell onto your stomach.
"Like this?" she asked.
"Reverse."
"What?"
"Turn around. Face my feet. Reverse cowgirl."
Wonyoung blinked. Then understanding dawned, and with it came something you hadn't seen on her face before—a flicker of genuine excitement. "I've seen this position. In… things I've watched. When I was alone."
"Then you know how it works."
She turned around. The movement was awkward—she had to lift one leg, then the other, bracing herself with a hand on your thigh—but the awkwardness was part of the appeal. She wasn't performing. She wasn't posing. She was just a woman figuring out how to take what she wanted.
When she settled into position, facing away from you, the view was spectacular. The long sweep of her back. The curve of her ass, round and firm. The dark cleft between her cheeks, and below that, her cunt—still wet, still open, positioned directly above your cock.
"Reach back," you said. "Take hold of me."
Her hand fumbled behind her. Fingers brushed your shaft, then your balls, then closed around the base. Her grip was tentative—too light, too careful—but she guided the head to her entrance anyway. The contact made her gasp.
"Oh god. You're so—I can feel how big you are just from this—"
"Take your time. You're in control."
Wonyoung lowered herself an inch. The head of your cock pressed against her opening, parting the slick lips. The heat of her was incredible—wet and tight and pulsing with the aftershocks of her orgasm. She stopped there, breathing hard, her thighs trembling on either side of your hips.
"I don't know if I can—"
"You can. Slowly. Just a little at a time."
She sank down another inch. The head slipped inside her, and Wonyoung cried out—a sharp, startled sound that was half pain and half pleasure. Her inner walls clenched around you, a rippling squeeze that traveled from tip to base.
"Fuck—fuck, you're stretching me—"
"You're doing so well. Take what you need."
Another inch. Then another. Her cunt was impossibly tight—tighter than Karina's, tighter than anyone you'd been with in recent memory. The walls gripped you like a fist, hot and slick and pulsing. Wonyoung's breathing had gone ragged. Her head dropped forward. Her hands braced on your thighs, nails digging in.
"I'm only halfway—oh god—I'm only halfway and I already feel so full—"
"Keep going. You wanted control. Take it."
She took it. Her hips dropped the rest of the way, and your cock buried itself to the hilt inside her. Wonyoung screamed. The sound was raw and uncontrolled—nothing like the polished idol voice, nothing like the careful, measured tones she'd used earlier. This was pure animal. Pure sensation.
"Oh fuck—oh fuck—you're in my stomach—I can feel you in my stomach—"
"Good. Now move."
She lifted her hips. The drag of her walls against your shaft made your vision swim. When she dropped back down, the impact sent a visible ripple through her ass. The cheeks jiggled with the force of it.
"Yes—" She did it again. Faster. "Yes—this is—this is what I wanted—this is what I needed—"
"Tell me what it feels like."
"Full. So full. Like—like I'm being split open. Like I'm being—ah—like I'm being claimed." She was moving faster now, finding a rhythm, her hips rolling in a way that spoke to years of dance training. The muscles in her back flexed and released with each stroke. "But I'm the one claiming you. I'm the one—I'm the one in control—"
"That's right. You're in control. Take your pleasure, Wonyoung. Take all of it."
Her pace quickened. The wet sounds of her cunt filled the bedroom—a slick, rhythmic slap every time she bottomed out. Your cock was coated in her arousal, glistening in the city light. She reached back with one hand and grabbed your chest—not for balance, but for leverage, pulling herself harder onto you with each stroke.
"Touch my—touch my breasts—please—I need—"
You reached up and cupped her breasts from behind. The position was awkward but the effect was immediate—Wonyoung's rhythm faltered, then resumed faster than before. You pinched her nipples and she sobbed.
"Yes—yes—harder—"
You twisted. She keened. Her hips became a blur—up and down, up and down, fucking herself on your cock with a desperation that bordered on violence. Her head was thrown back now, her dark hair cascading down her spine, her whole body sheened with sweat.
"I'm close—I'm getting close again—I can feel it building—"
"Look at you. Jang Wonyoung. The nation's sweetheart. Riding a stranger's cock in her marital bed. Moaning like an animal. Dripping down my thighs."
"Yes—yes—I'm dripping—I'm making a mess—Seok-joong would hate this—he'd hate how wet I am—he'd hate how—how much I love it—"
"How much do you love it?"
"So much—so fucking much—I love being full—I love being stretched—I love being in control—I love that you're letting me—" Her voice cracked. "I love that you're letting me take what I need—"
The tears started then.
They came without warning—a sudden spill from her eyes, tracking down her cheeks and dripping onto your thighs. Her rhythm faltered. Her breathing hitched and broke into sobs.
"I'm sorry—I'm sorry—I don't know why I'm—"
"Don't stop." You squeezed her breasts gently. "Don't apologize. Keep moving. Let it out."
"I can't—I can't stop crying—" But her hips kept moving. Slower now, but still moving. "It's just—it's been so long—I've been so alone—"
"I know."
"No one touches me. No one looks at me. No one wants me. I'm just—I'm just a thing he bought and forgot about—"
"You're not a thing. You're a woman. A beautiful, passionate woman who deserves to be touched and wanted and pleasured. Keep moving. Let yourself feel it."
The sobs grew louder. Her hips moved faster, chasing the release that was building despite—or maybe because of—the tears. Her hand tightened on your chest, nails digging crescents into your skin.
"I want to come—please—please let me come—"
"It's yours. Take it. Come on my cock, Wonyoung. Come while you're crying. Come while you're in control. Show me what you look like when you let go."
She shattered.
The orgasm hit her like a wave—a convulsive, full-body spasm that made her back arch and her thighs clamp around your hips. Her cunt seized around your shaft, a rhythmic pulsing that milked you from base to tip. The scream that tore from her throat was wordless and raw, echoing off the penthouse windows.
And then she squirted.
The fluid gushed around your cock—a hot, copious flood that soaked your thighs and the sheets beneath you. Wonyoung's hips kept moving through it, grinding down onto you, drawing out every pulse of her climax. The squelching sounds were obscene. Her sobs mingled with moans.
"Oh god—oh god, I'm still—it's still going—I can't stop—"
"Don't stop. Take everything."
She rode the orgasm until her thighs gave out. Then she collapsed backward, her spine landing against your chest, her head falling back onto your shoulder. Her cunt was still spasming weakly around your cock. Her chest heaved. Her face was a wreck—tears and sweat and smeared mascara that she hadn't been wearing.
You wrapped your arms around her waist and held her.
The silence stretched. Outside, the Han River glittered in the darkness, indifferent to everything happening in this penthouse. Wonyoung's breathing gradually slowed. The tremors in her thighs subsided.
"Thank you," she whispered.
"You don't have to thank me."
"I know. I want to." She turned her head, her cheek pressed against your chest. "No one's ever… I've never cried during sex before. I've never cried at all. Not since the wedding. I thought I'd forgotten how."
"Tears are just your body's way of releasing what you've been holding too long."
She laughed—a small, wet sound. "You sound like a therapist."
"I've had practice."
Silence again. Then, quieter: "Will you stay? Not—not for more sex. Just… stay. Until I fall asleep. I don't want to be alone tonight."
You pressed a kiss to her damp temple. "I'll stay."
Wonyoung sighed. The sound was different from before—not resignation, but relief. The relief of a woman who'd finally let go of something she'd been carrying for years.
"Good," she murmured. "That's good."
She closed her eyes. In the penthouse bedroom, with the city lights glittering below and your cock still half-hard inside her, Jang Wonyoung finally stopped trembling.
You held her until her breathing evened out. Until her body went slack against yours. Until the tears on her cheeks dried to salt and the wetness between her thighs cooled on your skin.
Tomorrow, you'd leave. Tomorrow, she'd go back to being Jang Wonyoung, idol-turned-trophy-wife, and you'd go back to whatever Senior Park had lined up next.
But tonight, she wasn't a photograph. Tonight, she was just a woman who'd remembered how to feel.
And that, you'd learned, was worth more than any paycheck the agency could offer.
Waking came in stages.
First, the soft gray light of early morning pressing against your eyelids. The penthouse windows had no curtains—Wonyoung liked to wake with the sun, you'd learn later—and the Han River was a sheet of hammered silver outside the glass.
Second, the weight. Or rather, the absence of it. Sometime in the night she'd shifted off your chest, and now the mattress beside you was warm but empty.
Third, the sensation.
Wet. Hot. A rhythmic pressure that started at the base of your cock and traveled upward in slow, deliberate pulls. Your hips stirred before your mind caught up—an instinctive response, the body recognizing pleasure before the brain had finished booting up.
You opened your eyes.
Wonyoung was between your legs.
Her dark hair spilled across your thighs in a tangled mess, still sleep-mussed from the night before. The sheet had slipped off her shoulders, leaving her bare—the long sweep of her spine, the curve of her ass, the soles of her feet crossed at the ankle behind her. She'd positioned herself on her stomach, propped on her elbows, and her mouth was wrapped around your cock.
She was still learning. The technique was messier than Karina's had been—more enthusiasm than skill, more eagerness than precision. Her tongue moved in uncertain patterns, tracing the ridge of the head, then the vein underneath, then back again as if she couldn't decide which part she wanted to taste most. Saliva pooled at the corners of her lips and dripped down your shaft, slicking her fingers where they curled around the base.
But what she lacked in experience, she made up for in something else. Something rarer.
She was happy.
You could see it in the way her cheeks bunched—the muscles straining to smile even with her lips stretched wide. In the little hums that vibrated through your shaft every time she took you deeper. In the way her hips wiggled slightly, a tiny dance of satisfaction, like a cat kneading a favorite blanket.
You chuckled. The sound was rough with sleep.
Wonyoung's eyes flicked up to meet yours. They were clearer than they'd been last night—the hollowness replaced by something bright and mischievous. She didn't stop sucking. If anything, she redoubled her efforts, her head bobbing faster, her tongue working the underside of your shaft with renewed determination.
"What a cheeky girl," you murmured.
Your hand found her head. Your fingers threaded through the dark tangles of her hair, not pulling, not directing—just holding. Just letting her feel the weight of your palm against her scalp. Wonyoung's eyes fluttered closed. The hum she made this time was different—softer, more satisfied. A sound of pure contentment.
She pulled back until just the tip remained in her mouth. Her tongue circled the head—once, twice, a slow figure-eight that made your breath catch. Then she pushed forward again, taking you deeper than before, and you felt the head of your cock bump the back of her throat.
She gagged. Coughed. Pulled back with a wet, gasping laugh.
"Too much?" you asked.
"Not enough." Her voice was hoarse—fucked raw from the night before, from the screaming and the crying and now this. "I wanted to… I woke up and you were still here and I just wanted to…"
"To what?"
"To taste you. Before you left." She rested her cheek against your thigh, her breath warm on your damp skin. "Is that weird?"
"No." You stroked her hair. "It's not weird."
"I've never done that before. The morning thing. I've never woken up next to someone and thought… I want to make them feel good. Just because." Her fingers traced idle patterns on your hip. "I've never woken up next to anyone, actually. Seok-joong never stayed the night. Even when we were engaged. He said he couldn't sleep in unfamiliar beds."
"His own bed was unfamiliar?"
Wonyoung's laugh was bitter. "I was the unfamiliar part."
You sat up. The movement dislodged her from your thigh, and she rose with you—sitting back on her heels, her hair a wild curtain around her shoulders, her lips swollen and slick. The morning light caught the angles of her face, the sharp cheekbones and the full mouth, and for a moment she looked exactly like the magazine covers. The nation's sweetheart. The girl who'd debuted at fourteen and never stopped smiling for cameras.
But the smile she gave you now was different. Smaller. Realer. A smile that belonged to her and no one else.
"Come here," you said.
She came. You gathered her in your arms and lifted her—bridal style, her long legs draped over one arm, her head cradled against your shoulder. She was lighter than you'd expected. All those years of dieting for comebacks, probably. All those years of being told she needed to be smaller, thinner, more perfect.
"The shower," you said. "We're both a mess."
"Your fault." But she was grinning as she said it.
"Entirely."
The bathroom was all white marble and chrome fixtures, with a rainfall showerhead even larger than Karina's. You set Wonyoung down on the heated tile floor—her bare feet made a soft sound against the stone—and reached into the glass enclosure to turn on the water. Steam began to fill the room almost immediately.
She stepped into the shower first. You followed.
The water was hot but not scalding, beating down on your shoulders and back in a steady rhythm. Wonyoung tilted her face up into the spray, letting it run over her closed eyelids and down her throat. The mascara she hadn't been wearing was still absent, and without it she looked younger. Not twenty-nine. Not the weary trophy wife from last night. Just a woman in the morning, clean and bare and unguarded.
You reached for the body wash—something floral, jasmine maybe—and worked it into a lather between your palms.
"Turn around," you said.
She did. You started with her shoulders, the same way you had with Karina. The same ritual. The same aftercare. The same reminder that what happened in the bedroom wasn't just about sex—it was about being seen. Being handled. Being treated like a body that mattered.
Wonyoung sighed as your hands moved down her back. "You do this for all your clients?"
"The shower?"
"The… gentleness. The talking. The staying until morning."
"Most of them." You worked the soap into the dip of her spine, the curve of her hips. "The ones who need it."
"And how do you know which ones need it?"
You turned her around to face you. Water sluiced down between you, washing away the suds. Her eyes were level with your collarbone; she had to tilt her head back to meet your gaze.
"Because they're the ones who cry," you said. "And you cried."
Wonyoung's expression flickered—something passing through it too fast to name. Then she reached up and took the body wash from the shelf behind you. Poured some into her own palm. Worked it into a lather.
"Your turn," she said.
Her hands on your chest were tentative at first—the same hesitance from last night, the same uncertainty about what she was allowed to do. But as she grew bolder, her touch firmed. Her palms traced the lines of your pectorals, the ridges of your abdomen, the V of your hips. She was washing you, but she was also learning you. Mapping the geography of a body that wasn't hers.
"You're different from what I expected," she said.
"Different how?"
"I don't know. Less… transactional." She rinsed her hands under the spray. "When I called the agency, I thought it would be like ordering room service. Something mechanical. Something I could pretend didn't happen afterward. But this is…"
"This is?"
She looked up at you. The water had plastered her hair to her skull, darkened it to near-black. Droplets clung to her lashes.
"Real," she said. "This feels real."
You cupped her face in your hands. Your thumbs traced the sharp line of her cheekbones, the soft skin beneath her eyes. She leaned into the touch—pressed her cheek against your palm like a cat seeking warmth.
"It is real," you said. "Whatever happens in this room, whatever you feel—it's real. The pleasure is real. The tears are real. You're not pretending anymore. You're not performing. You're just… here."
"Just here." She tested the words. "I like that. I've never been 'just here' anywhere. There's always been a camera. Or a manager. Or a husband who wanted me to be somewhere else."
"Not here."
"Not here." She rose on her toes. Her lips brushed yours—soft, tentative, a question more than a statement. "Thank you."
"You already thanked me."
"I know. I want to do it again. Properly." She kissed you again, deeper this time. Her lips parted, and her tongue traced the seam of your mouth—asking permission, not demanding it. You opened for her, and she made a small sound, something between a sigh and a hum, as her tongue met yours.
The kiss was different from the ones last night. Last night had been hungry. Desperate. A woman starving for contact and finally given permission to eat. This kiss was slower. Sweeter. A kiss of gratitude rather than need.
Her arms wrapped around your neck. Your hands found her waist. The water beat down on both of you, and the steam rose around you like a curtain, and for a long moment there was nothing in the world but this—the heat and the wet and the soft pressure of her mouth on yours.
When she finally pulled back, her lips were pinker than before. Kiss-swollen. The color had risen in her cheeks.
"I put my number in your phone," she said.
"You what?"
"While you were sleeping. Earlier. Before I…" She gestured vaguely downward, toward the general vicinity of your crotch. "I wanted to make sure you had it. In case you wanted to call. In case you wanted to…"
"To what?"
"To see me again. Not as a client. Not through the agency. Just… me." Her voice had gone smaller. The confidence from moments ago was fading, replaced by the same vulnerability you'd seen last night. "Is that allowed? Is that something you do?"
You considered the question. The agency had rules about this—Senior Park was very clear about keeping things professional, about not blurring the lines between service and relationship. But Senior Park wasn't here. And Wonyoung was looking at you with those too-big eyes, the ones that had been empty last night and were now full of something fragile and hopeful.
"It's allowed," you said. "But I should warn you—I'm not a boyfriend. I'm not going to be. Whatever this is, it's not going to become something else."
"I know." She didn't look disappointed. If anything, she looked relieved. "I don't want a boyfriend. I don't want another man who owns me. I just want… someone who sees me. Someone who touches me like I'm real. Someone who'll answer when I call." A pause. "Will you answer?"
"Every time."
She kissed you again—quick and fierce, a press of lips that was more gratitude than passion. Then she stepped back, out of the spray, and reached for a towel.
"You should go," she said. "Before I ask you to stay again."
The elevator ride down was quiet. No muzak. No mirrored walls. Just brushed steel and the soft hum of hydraulics and the memory of Wonyoung's voice: Please… call me again.
You checked your phone in the lobby. There it was, in your contacts, added sometime in the early morning hours while you were still asleep: Wonyoung ♡. The heart was a nice touch. A little cheeky. A little hopeful.
You smiled despite yourself.
Three days passed.
Senior Park called on a Friday.
"New client," he said, the same way he always did—that particular lilt in his voice that meant he was enjoying himself. "Actress. Very famous. Very married. Although her marriage is…" A pause. "Complicated."
"Complicated how?"
"You'll see. She's been asking for you specifically. Apparently your reputation is spreading."
"Who is it?"
"Moon Ga Young."
The name made you stop walking. You were on the street in Gangnam, the afternoon sun beating down on your neck, and for a moment you just stood there with the phone pressed to your ear.
"Moon Ga Young? The actress?"
"The one and only. Star of True Beauty. The Interest of Love. Half a dozen other dramas I've never watched but my wife loves." The rustle of papers on his end. "She's staying at the Signiel. Suite 2704. Tonight, eight o'clock."
"Wait." You stepped into the shade of a building, out of the flow of pedestrian traffic. "Moon Ga Young is married? I didn't know that."
"Neither did anyone else. She kept it quiet. Very quiet. No press, no announcement, no wedding photos in the tabloids." Park's voice had gone sly. "The husband is some finance executive. American. Works in New York. They've been married for two years, and in those two years, he's been in Seoul for a total of six weeks. You do the math."
Six weeks out of a hundred and four. You did the math.
"Same story," you said.
"Same story, different window. The view from the Signiel is nicer, though. She's booked the suite for the whole weekend. Says she wants to take her time." Another pause. "She also said—and I quote—'Tell him I'm not fragile. Tell him I don't need the gentle version.' End quote."
You raised an eyebrow. "She said that?"
"Word for word. I think you're in for an interesting night."
The line went dead.
The Signiel Seoul occupied the 76th through 101st floors of the Lotte World Tower. It was the kind of hotel where the lobby was on the 79th floor and the elevator ride up made your ears pop. The kind of hotel where the staff wore suits that cost more than your monthly rent and the vases in the hallways were probably worth more than your car.
Suite 2704 was at the end of a quiet corridor. The door was a slab of dark wood with a brass number, and when you knocked, the sound was swallowed by the thick carpet.
"Come in. It's open."
The voice was lower than you'd expected. Smokier. The kind of voice that belonged in a noir film, all shadows and secrets.
You pushed the door open.
The suite was magnificent. Floor-to-ceiling windows looked out over the Seoul skyline, the city lights glittering below like a spill of diamonds. The furniture was modern and understated—a low gray sofa, a glass coffee table, an abstract painting that was probably worth more than everything you owned. The bedroom was visible through an open doorway, the bed enormous and white and untouched.
And there, on the balcony, stood Moon Ga Young.
She was smaller in person than she appeared on screen. The camera had a way of adding presence, of making actors seem larger than life. In reality, she was petite—barely over five feet, with delicate wrists and a narrow frame that made her look almost breakable. Her hair was long and dark, falling past her shoulders in loose waves. Her face was the same one you'd seen in a dozen dramas—the wide eyes, the full lips, the delicate bone structure that made her look younger than her thirty-something years.
But the robe she was wearing was anything but delicate.
It was silk, pale champagne in color, and almost entirely transparent. The fabric clung to her body like a whisper, revealing the outline of her breasts, the curve of her waist, the dark triangle between her thighs. She wore nothing beneath it. The robe was held closed by a single sash, loosely tied, and as she turned to face you, the front gaped open slightly—just enough to confirm that yes, she was completely naked under there.
In one hand, she held a flute of champagne. The liquid was pale gold, the bubbles rising in lazy spirals.
"You're punctual," she said. "I like that."
"Senior Park said you didn't want the gentle version."
"Did he?" A smile played at the corner of her mouth. "I said I didn't need it. There's a difference." She raised the champagne flute to her lips and took a sip. Her eyes never left yours. "Would you like a drink? There's a bottle on the minibar. It's not cheap—I made sure of that."
"I'm working."
"So am I. Or at least, I'm about to be." The smile widened. "One drink won't hurt. Consider it part of the negotiation."
You crossed to the minibar. The champagne was vintage, the label one you recognized from a previous client's penthouse. You poured yourself a glass—not because you wanted it, but because refusing would mean ceding the rhythm of the encounter to her. And Ga Young, you were already beginning to understand, was someone who was used to setting the rhythm.
She joined you at the sofa. The robe gaped further as she sat, revealing the pale curve of one breast. She didn't bother to adjust it.
"So," she said, settling back against the cushions. "You're the man who made Karina cry."
You paused with the glass halfway to your lips. "She told you?"
"She told someone, who told someone, who told me. The idol world is small. Smaller than you'd think." Ga Young swirled her champagne. "The rumor is that you were… thorough. That you gave her exactly what she needed. That you didn't treat her like glass."
"I don't treat anyone like glass."
"No. I don't imagine you do." She leaned forward, setting her glass on the coffee table. The movement made the robe fall open completely, exposing the full length of her body. She didn't seem to notice. Or if she noticed, she didn't care. "Here's the thing. I've been married for two years. In those two years, I've had sex exactly four times. All of them on our wedding night. After that, my husband decided he preferred New York to Seoul. He calls me once a week, usually from his office, usually while he's doing something else. Reading emails. Checking stocks. He's never once asked me how I'm feeling."
"Does he know you're here?"
"He knows I'm at a hotel. He doesn't know why." Ga Young's smile was sharp. "He probably thinks I'm having a spa weekend. That's what he'd do, if he thought about it at all. 'Ga Young's having a spa weekend. How nice for her.'" The mimicry was cruel and precise. "He doesn't know me well enough to suspect anything else."
"And what are you looking for tonight?"
She leaned back. The robe fell open completely now, pooling on the cushions around her. She was leaner than Karina, leaner than Wonyoung—the body of a woman who'd spent years in front of cameras, who'd been told she needed to be thinner, always thinner. Her breasts were small, the nipples a pale pink. Her stomach was flat. The hair between her thighs was dark and neatly trimmed.
"I'm not looking for therapy," she said. "I'm not looking for someone to hold me while I cry. I'm not looking for validation or reassurance or any of the things your other clients probably need." She uncrossed her legs and crossed them again. The movement was deliberate. Performative. "I'm looking for a good fuck. That's it. That's all. I want to be fucked so hard I forget my own name. I want to walk bowlegged tomorrow. I want to feel like a woman instead of a mannequin. Can you do that?"
You set your champagne glass down next to hers. "Safeword?"
"Red."
"Tap-out?"
"Three taps. Anywhere." She cocked her head. "You're very professional. I like that too."
"Part of the service."
"Then let's get started." She stood up. The robe stayed on the sofa, a champagne-colored puddle of silk. "The bedroom's through there. I want you to use every inch of that bed. I want you to use every inch of me. And I want you to stop treating me like I'm going to break." She walked toward the bedroom, her bare feet silent on the thick carpet. At the doorway, she paused and looked back over her shoulder. "I'm not going to break. I promise."
The bedroom was all windows on one side, the city lights spread out below like a circuit board. The bed was king-sized, the sheets white, the pillows arranged in a perfect geometric pattern. Ga Young climbed onto the mattress and positioned herself in the center—on her back, her arms above her head, her legs slightly apart. The pose was deliberate. A parody of submission. The same way she'd done everything so far—with a wink, with a smirk, with the implicit understanding that she was playing a role.
"The last time I had sex," she said, "was my wedding night. He was drunk. I was nervous. It lasted maybe six minutes. He fell asleep immediately afterward, and when I woke up the next morning, he was already on a plane to New York." She looked at the ceiling. "I didn't have an orgasm. I've never had an orgasm with another person. Not once. I'm thirty-four years old, and I've been faking it since I was twenty."
You unbuttoned your shirt. "You don't have to fake anything tonight."
"I know. That's why you're here." She watched you undress with open appraisal, her eyes tracking the movement of your hands. "I've done my research. I know about the agency. I know about Senior Park. I know about the other women you've been with. The idols. The heiresses. The wives. I know you're discreet. I know you're skilled. I know you're exactly what I need."
"Which is?"
She met your eyes. The smirk was gone. For the first time since you'd walked through the door, her expression was completely serious.
"Someone who isn't afraid of me," she said. "Everyone's afraid of me. My husband's afraid of me. My managers are afraid of me. The directors I work with are afraid of me. I'm Moon Ga Young. I'm the nation's sweetheart. I'm the girl next door who's been in a dozen dramas and never had a scandal." Her voice was flat. "People think I'm delicate. They think I'm fragile. They think I need to be protected. No one's ever looked at me and thought—she wants to be destroyed."
"Do you?"
"Yes." The word was barely a whisper. "God, yes. I want to be destroyed. I want to be ruined. I want someone to look at me and see what I really am, not what the cameras see. Not what my husband sees. Not what the public sees." She swallowed. "I want to feel something real. Even if it's pain. Even if it's rough. Especially if it's rough."
You finished undressing. Your clothes made a pile on the floor—shirt, pants, boxers. Your cock was already half-hard, responding to the challenge in her voice, the directness of her gaze. Ga Young looked at you and didn't flinch.
"Good," she said. "Now come here. I've been waiting two years for this. I'm not waiting any longer."
Moon Ga Young watched you undress with the eyes of a woman who'd spent two decades being looked at and had finally decided to do some looking of her own.
"On your knees."
The command landed in the space between you. Her lips curved—not quite a smile, more a recognition. This was what she'd asked for. This was what she'd been waiting two years to receive.
She slid off the bed. The movement was liquid, all those years of dance training and red carpet practice translating into something that looked effortless. Her knees met the carpet with a soft thud. The city lights through the window painted her bare skin in shades of amber and gold.
"Hands behind your back."
She complied. The position made her small breasts lift, the nipples still pale pink and tight. Her eyes stayed on yours. Defiant. Hungry. The smirk was still there, but it had thinned—become something sharper, more expectant.
You picked up the champagne-colored robe from where it had fallen on the sofa. The silk was cool and slippery in your hands. You pulled the sash free with one sharp tug, and the fabric whispered against itself as it came loose.
"Wrists."
Ga Young's smirk flickered. "You're going to tie me up?"
"I'm going to do a lot of things." You crouched behind her, looping the silk around her wrists. Not too tight—you knew the difference between restraint and injury—but snug enough that she'd feel the pull every time she moved. "You said you wanted to be destroyed. Destruction requires surrender. You can't be in control and be ruined at the same time."
"I know." Her voice was quieter now. The bravado was still there, but something else was bleeding through. Something that sounded almost like relief. "I know. That's the point."
You tied the knot. Tested it with two fingers. "Too tight?"
"No."
"Good."
You stood and walked around to face her. From this angle, with her wrists bound behind her back and her knees pressed into the carpet, she looked smaller than before. More vulnerable. The nation's sweetheart, stripped of her armor, kneeling naked in a hotel suite with her pulse visible in her throat.
"Open your mouth."
Ga Young's lips parted. Her tongue was pink, wet, waiting. You took hold of your cock—fully hard now, thick and veined, the head already slick with the first bead of precum—and guided it toward her waiting mouth.
"Wider."
She stretched her jaw. The corners of her lips went taut. You pressed the head against her tongue, and she made a sound—something between a hum and a whimper—as the taste of you filled her mouth.
"Good girl. Now take it. All of it."
You pushed forward.
The first few inches slid in easily. Her tongue moved beneath your shaft—uncertain at first, then finding its rhythm, tracing the ridge of the head, the sensitive spot just beneath. Her cheeks hollowed as she sucked. The suction was strong, practiced, the muscle memory of a woman who'd done this before even if it had been years.
Then you pushed deeper.
The head of your cock hit the back of her throat, and Ga Young gagged. The sound was wet and sudden—a choked, spluttering cough that made her whole body convulse. Her bound wrists strained against the silk. Her eyes watered. A thick string of saliva dripped from the corner of her mouth and landed on her chest.
"Don't fight it. Relax your throat."
She tried. You could feel her trying—the way her muscles fluttered around your shaft, the way she forced herself to breathe through her nose. But the gag reflex was strong, and when you pushed another inch deeper, she convulsed again.
"Fuck—" The word came out muffled, garbled around your cock.
You pulled back. Let her gasp. A bridge of saliva connected your shaft to her bottom lip, stretching, then breaking.
"I can't—" She coughed again. "I can't take it all. It's too thick—"
"You can." You grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled her head back. Her throat was exposed now—a long, pale column, the skin delicate and unmarked. "You said you wanted to be ruined. Ruined means taking cock down your throat until you can't breathe. Ruined means gagging and choking and still pushing deeper. Do you understand?"
Ga Young's eyes met yours. They were wet now, the first tears clinging to her lashes. But behind them, something was blazing. Something that looked almost like joy.
"Yes."
"Then open your mouth."
She did. You pushed inside again, and this time you didn't stop. Your cock slid past her tongue, past the soft palate, into the tight grip of her throat. Ga Young's whole body seized. A guttural, choking sound vibrated through your shaft. Her bound hands clawed at the air behind her back. Her throat muscles clamped down around you—spasming, fighting, then slowly, gradually, yielding.
"There you go. Take it. Take all of it."
Your hips met her face. Your cock was buried to the hilt in her throat, and Ga Young's nose was pressed against your pubic bone. She couldn't breathe. Couldn't speak. Could only gag and choke and let the tears stream down her cheeks while you held her there, impaled on your length.
You held the position for a count of five. Then ten. Her face was turning red. Her body was writhing—not fighting, not trying to escape, but writhing with the sheer overwhelming sensation of being so completely filled.
You pulled back.
Ga Young gasped. The inhale was ragged and desperate, followed by a coughing fit that made her whole body shake. Saliva dripped from her chin. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her cheeks blotchy, her carefully arranged hair a tangled mess.
"More," she rasped. "Give me more."
You slapped her.
The crack of your palm against her cheek echoed through the suite. Ga Young's head snapped to the side. A red mark bloomed on her pale skin—the shape of your hand, stark and undeniable.
"Did I tell you to speak?"
She shook her head. The defiance was still there, but it was muted now—submerged beneath something deeper. Something that looked almost like peace.
"Then don't speak. Your mouth has one purpose right now. Do you understand?"
She nodded. Her cheek was still red. The tears had multiplied, tracking mascara-less lines down her face.
"Good. Now show me you understand."
She opened her mouth. Leaned forward. Took your cock between her lips with a hunger that bordered on worship. This time, when you pushed into her throat, she didn't gag. She swallowed around you—a deliberate, rhythmic clenching that traveled from her throat to the base of your shaft. The sensation was electric. Your vision swam.
"That's it. That's my good little throat-whore."
She moaned. The vibration traveled through her throat and into your cock, and the pleasure was so intense that your hips bucked involuntarily. You grabbed her head with both hands—fingers tangled in her hair, thumbs pressed against her temples—and began to fuck her face in earnest.
The rhythm was brutal. Deep, driving strokes that bottomed out against the back of her throat with every thrust. The wet sounds were obscene—squelching, choking, gagging, the slap of your balls against her chin. Ga Young's bound hands clenched and unclenched behind her back. Her body swayed with the force of your thrusts. Her eyes were squeezed shut, tears streaming freely, but she never pulled away. Never tapped out. Never gave any signal that she wanted this to stop.
"You love this. You love being used like a toy. Tell me you love it."
She couldn't speak—not with your cock buried in her throat—but she moaned again. The sound was desperate. Affirmative. Broken.
"Then take it. Take every inch. I'm going to come down your throat, and you're going to swallow every drop. Do you understand?"
Another moan. Higher-pitched. Almost frantic.
You fucked her throat faster. The tension was building—a coiling pressure at the base of your spine that spread outward, downward, gathering force with every stroke. Ga Young's throat muscles were fluttering around you now, spasming in rhythm with her muffled moans. Her body was trembling. Her bound hands had gone limp behind her back, all the fight drained out of her.
"I'm close—fuck, I'm close—"
You slammed into her throat one last time and held there. Buried to the hilt. Her nose crushed against your pelvis. Her throat working desperately around your shaft, trying to swallow, trying to breathe, trying to do everything at once.
The orgasm hit you like a freight train.
The first pulse of cum shot directly down her throat—thick, hot, copious. You felt her swallow reflexively, the muscles of her esophagus contracting around your shaft. The second pulse followed immediately, and the third, and the fourth, each one painting her throat white with your seed. You kept your grip on her head, holding her in place, making sure she couldn't pull away until every last drop was drained.
"Swallow. All of it."
She did. You felt her throat constrict again and again, gulping down your cum with an eagerness that bordered on desperation. When you finally pulled back, a thick string of saliva and semen connected your cock to her bottom lip. Ga Young's mouth hung open. Her tongue was coated white. Her eyes were glassy and unfocused, staring at something only she could see.
She swallowed once more. Licked her lips. The taste of you was still on her tongue, and she savored it—closing her eyes, letting out a small, satisfied hum.
"Thank you," she whispered.
The words were hoarse. Fucked-raw. Barely audible. But the gratitude in them was real.
"We're not done."
Ga Young's eyes opened. The smirk was back—smaller now, more fragile, but still there. "I know."
You untied her wrists. The silk sash left faint red marks on her skin—nothing that would bruise, nothing that would last, but enough to remind her tomorrow of what had happened tonight. She rubbed her wrists absently. Then she looked up at you, and the question in her eyes was clear: What now?
"Against the wall."
She rose. Her legs were unsteady—the long minutes of kneeling had left her knees red, her thighs trembling. She crossed to the floor-to-ceiling window and pressed her palms against the glass. The city lights glittered below, indifferent to the scene unfolding above them. Her reflection stared back at her—naked, disheveled, marked.
"Spread your legs."
She did. The position opened her completely—the long line of her spine, the curve of her ass, the dark cleft between her cheeks. Her cunt was visible from this angle, the lips swollen and glistening. She was wet. Had been wet since the moment you'd pushed into her throat, probably. Maybe since the moment you'd walked through the door.
You stepped behind her. Your left hand found her throat—not squeezing, not yet, just resting there, a reminder of who was in control. Your right hand slid down her back, over the curve of her ass, between her cheeks. You spread her open, exposing the tight pink knot of her asshole, the darker, wetter flesh of her cunt below.
"Look at you. Moon Ga Young. The nation's sweetheart. Bent over against a hotel window with her cunt dripping and her throat full of cum. What would your fans think?"
"I don't care." Her voice was raw, almost defiant. "I don't care what they think. I don't care what anyone thinks. Just fuck me. Please. Fuck me like you mean it."
You tightened your grip on her throat. Not enough to cut off air—just enough to make her feel the pressure. Just enough to remind her that you could.
"Beg."
"Please." The word came out strangled. "Please fuck me. I've been waiting two years. Two years of empty beds and empty phone calls and pretending I'm fine when I'm dying inside. Please. I need this. I need you. I need your cock inside me. I need to feel something real. Please—"
You thrust into her cunt in one brutal motion.
Ga Young screamed.
The sound was raw and animal—nothing like the polished, controlled voice she used in interviews. This was a scream torn from somewhere deep inside her, a scream that had been building for two years and finally found its release. Her cunt was tight—tighter than you'd expected, the walls clenching around your shaft with a force that made your breath catch. She was soaked, though, and the slick heat of her made the brutal entry possible.
"Oh fuck—oh fuck—you're so deep—"
You didn't give her time to adjust. You pulled back and slammed forward again, harder than before. The impact made her palms squeak against the glass. Her breasts pressed against the window, leaving smears of sweat on the pristine surface. Your left hand stayed on her throat, your right hand gripping her hip, and you fucked her with a rhythm that was punishing.
"This is what you wanted. This is what you begged for. To be fucked like an animal. To be used like a toy. To be ruined."
"Yes—yes—harder—"
You gave her harder. The wet sounds of her cunt filled the suite—squelching, slapping, the rhythmic thud of your hips meeting her ass. You could see her reflection in the window—her mouth open, her eyes half-closed, her cheeks flushed and tear-streaked. The idol image was gone. Completely obliterated. What was left was just a woman, raw and desperate, taking cock like she'd been starving for it.
You tightened your grip on her throat. Squeezed. Not enough to cut off her air entirely, but enough to make her lightheaded. Enough to make the edges of her vision go dark. Ga Young's eyes rolled back. Her mouth opened wider. A strangled sound escaped her—half moan, half gasp.
"That's it. Feel that? Feel how deep I am? Feel how full you are? This is what you needed. Not the fame. Not the money. Not the perfect husband who never touches you. This. Just this. Just a cock in your cunt and someone who knows how to use it."
"YES—YES—THIS IS—"
You released her throat. She gasped—a huge, ragged inhale that made her whole body shudder. Then you grabbed her hips with both hands and fucked her even harder. The pace was brutal now—piston-like, relentless, each thrust driving her against the window with a force that made the glass vibrate. Her ass rippled with every impact. Her breasts bounced. Her reflection stared back at her with wild eyes and a slack mouth, and she looked at herself like she didn't recognize what she was seeing.
"Look at yourself. Look at what you've become. You're not an actress right now. You're not a wife. You're just a wet hole. A set of holes. A body that exists to be fucked. Do you see her?"
"I see her—" Ga Young's voice was broken, sobbing. "I see her—I see myself—"
"And what do you see?"
"A whore." The word came out on a sob. "A desperate, dripping whore who's been neglected for two years and finally has a cock inside her. I see a whore. I see a whore. I see—"
You felt her cunt seize around you. The orgasm was sudden and violent—a convulsive, full-body spasm that made her back arch and her legs give out. You caught her before she collapsed, pinning her against the window with your body, and kept fucking her through it. The clenching of her walls was rhythmic, almost painful in its intensity, milking your shaft from base to tip.
"That's it—that's it—come on my cock—come while you're watching yourself—"
"I'm coming—I'm coming—oh god, I'm—"
She squirted. The fluid gushed around your cock, soaking your thighs, splashing against the window, dripping down the glass in long, obscene rivulets. Ga Young's scream was wordless, primal, a sound that seemed to come from somewhere deeper than her throat. Her body convulsed in your arms. Her cunt pulsed and fluttered around your shaft, and the sensation was so intense that you felt your own orgasm building—a tightening pressure at the base of your spine.
But you weren't done.
You pulled out of her. Ga Young whimpered at the emptiness. Her cunt gaped for a moment, then clenched around nothing, gushing another pulse of fluid onto the carpet. You turned her around—roughly, hands on her shoulders, spinning her like a doll—and pushed her back against the window. Her shoulder blades hit the glass. Her eyes were wild, unfocused, still hazy from the orgasm.
"Hold onto me."
Her arms wrapped around your neck. Her legs wrapped around your waist. You gripped her thighs and lifted her, positioning her cunt above your cock, and thrust inside her in one smooth motion.
Ga Young's head fell back against the glass. "Oh ffffuuuuck—"
"You wanted to be ruined. I'm not finished ruining you."
You fucked her against the window. The position was different—deeper, somehow, the angle letting you hit spots inside her that you hadn't reached before. Ga Young's moans were continuous now, a stream of broken syllables and guttural sounds that didn't belong to any language. Her nails dug into your shoulders. Her heels pressed into the small of your back. Her cunt was a mess—slick and swollen and pulsing, still gushing intermittently with the aftershocks of her orgasm.
"Harder—please—harder—"
You slammed into her. The window rattled. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you registered that there were probably people in the building across the street, people with binoculars, people who might be watching. Let them watch. Let them see what Moon Ga Young looked like when she was being fucked properly. Let them see the nation's sweetheart with her legs wrapped around a stranger, her cunt dripping down his thighs, her mouth open in a scream that had no end.
"Look at me."
She forced her eyes to focus. They were glassy, tear-filled, but they met yours.
"You're going to come again. You're going to come on this cock while I'm choking you. And you're going to watch yourself in the reflection while you do it. Do you understand?"
"Yes—yes—"
Your left hand found her throat again. Squeezed. Harder this time. Ga Young's face began to flush. Her lips parted. Her eyes rolled back. But she didn't tap out. Didn't signal. Didn't do anything except moan—a thin, wheezing sound that vibrated against your palm.
"That's it. Let go. Let yourself fall."
You fucked her harder. The rhythm was punishing—deep, driving strokes that bottomed out against her cervix with every thrust. Your right hand found her clit, the swollen bundle of nerves slick and hard under your fingertip. You pressed down. Circled. Ga Young's body convulsed.
Her orgasm hit like an explosion.
This one was different from the first—quieter, deeper, more devastating. Her cunt clamped down on your cock with a force that almost hurt. Her whole body went rigid, every muscle locked, every breath held. Then the release came, and it came with a flood. Her cunt gushed around your shaft—not just wetness this time, but a clear, copious fluid that sprayed against your thighs and soaked the carpet beneath you.
"Fuuuuuuuck—"
Her voice broke on the word. Her body went limp. Completely limp. She collapsed against you, her head falling onto your shoulder, her arms sliding from your neck. Her cunt was still pulsing weakly around your cock—little flutters of sensation that traveled up your shaft.
You released her throat. She gasped—a huge, ragged inhale—and then she started to laugh.
It wasn't a happy laugh. It wasn't bitter, either. It was the laugh of a woman who'd been holding something inside for years and had finally, finally let it out. The laugh turned into sobs, and the sobs turned into silence, and through all of it you held her against the window, your cock still buried inside her, your hands gentle on her back.
She kept saying it. Over and over. Like a prayer. Like a confession. Like the only words she had left.
You carried her to the bed. Laid her down on the white sheets. Her body was marked—red impressions of your fingers on her throat, faint bruises already forming on her hips, her cunt swollen and gaping and still leaking onto the mattress. She looked up at you with eyes that were clearer than they'd been all night.
"Stay," she said. "Please. Just until I fall asleep."
You climbed into the bed beside her. Pulled the sheets over both of you. Ga Young curled against your chest, her face pressed into the hollow of your throat, her breath warm on your skin.
"I haven't felt this alive in years," she murmured. "I haven't felt anything in years."
"Feel it now."
She did. Her breathing slowed. Her body relaxed. The tension that had been coiled in her muscles since the moment you'd walked through the door finally, fully released.
Outside the window, the city glittered on, indifferent and eternal. Inside the suite, Moon Ga Young closed her eyes, and for the first time in two years, she slept without dreaming of being somewhere else.
The morning light through the Signiel's floor-to-ceiling windows was the color of honey. It pooled on the white sheets, caught the edge of the champagne flute still sitting on the coffee table, painted Ga Young's bare shoulder in shades of gold.
She was still asleep.
Her breathing was slow and even, her face half-buried in the pillow, her dark hair fanned across the cotton like spilled ink. The marks from last night were already fading—the faint impressions on her throat, the bruises on her hips. In sleep, she looked younger. Softer. The sharp, sardonic edge that had defined her when you'd walked through the door had melted away, replaced by something unguarded.
You slid out of bed carefully. The sheets whispered against your skin. Ga Young stirred but didn't wake—just shifted, her hand reaching out to the empty space where you'd been, her fingers curling around nothing.
You dressed in silence. Shirt. Pants. Belt. The routine was automatic, muscle memory from a dozen similar mornings. The suite was quiet except for the distant hum of the HVAC system and the soft shush of traffic eighty floors below. Your shoes were by the sofa where you'd kicked them off. You bent to pick them up.
"Where are you going?"
The voice was sleep-roughened but still unmistakably hers—that smoky, noir-film cadence that made everything sound like a secret. You turned.
Ga Young was sitting up in bed. The sheet had fallen to her waist. Her hair was a tangled mess, her eyes still puffy from sleep and last night's tears. She looked nothing like the polished actress from the dramas. She looked like a woman who'd been thoroughly fucked and had slept better than she had in years.
"Home," you said. "You were asleep. I didn't want to wake you."
She laughed. The sound was low and warm and entirely unselfconscious. "Nuh uh." She swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood, crossing the room toward you with the sheet still trailing behind her like a train. "I'm still your client. The weekend, remember? You're not going anywhere."
She reached you and wrapped her arms around your waist from behind. Her cheek pressed against your spine. Her bare breasts flattened against your back, and the warmth of her body seeped through your shirt. She smelled like sex and sleep and the faint floral remnants of whatever expensive soap the Signiel stocked in its bathrooms.
"Ga Young—"
"Shh." Her arms tightened. "You're not leaving. Not yet. Not until I say so."
The suite door clicked open.
You heard it before you saw it—the soft sound of the electronic lock disengaging, followed by the whoosh of the door swinging on its hinges. Two voices drifted in from the hallway, mid-laugh, the kind of easy, familiar laughter that came from years of friendship.
"—and then he said, 'That's not a prop, that's my actual—'" The voice cut off.
Karina stood in the doorway.
Wonyoung was right behind her.
They were both carrying shopping bags—the discreet, expensive kind that came from boutiques in Cheongdam-dong, the logos embossed in subtle gold foil. They were both wearing black outerwear—Karina in a long trench coat, Wonyoung in a cropped leather jacket—and they were both staring at you with expressions that shifted from surprise to recognition to something else entirely.
Something hungrier.
"Unnie!" Ga Young's voice was delighted. She released you and stepped around, completely unbothered by her nudity, the sheet slipping from her shoulders and pooling on the floor. "You're early. I thought you weren't coming until noon."
Karina's eyes flicked from you to Ga Young and back again. A slow smile spread across her face. "We wanted to surprise you." She stepped into the suite, and Wonyoung followed, closing the door behind her. "But it looks like you're the one with the surprise."
"Wait." You looked at Ga Young. Then at Karina. Then at Wonyoung. "You three know each other?"
"We're best friends." Wonyoung's voice was light, almost teasing. She set her shopping bag down on the console table by the door. "We've been best friends for years. Since trainee days. Did you really think it was a coincidence that we all ended up calling the same agency?"
"We talk," Karina said. She was still smiling, but there was something sharper beneath it—a blade hidden in silk. "We talk about everything. The husbands. The loneliness. The emptiness." She paused. "The men we hire to make us feel alive again."
Ga Young had retrieved her robe from the floor—the champagne-colored silk, still wrinkled from last night—and was tying it loosely around her waist. "When I heard that Karina unnie had found someone who actually made her come, I had to see for myself. And then Wonyoungie called me the next morning, practically glowing, and I knew." She turned to you, her eyes bright. "I knew I had to book you. And I knew I had to make it a weekend."
"A weekend?"
"Senior Park didn't tell you?" Karina's trench coat was already unbelted. She shrugged it off her shoulders, and it slid to the floor in a whisper of black fabric. Beneath it, she was wearing lingerie—not the practical black lace from your first encounter, but something deliberately chosen. A deep burgundy set, the color of aged wine, the bra cupping her breasts in a way that made them look fuller, the panties high-cut and sheer. "This booking is for all three of us. The whole weekend. Friday to Sunday."
Wonyoung was unzipping her leather jacket. Her movements were slower than Karina's, more deliberate, but no less confident. The jacket came off, and beneath it was a pale lavender set—the color soft against her skin, the fabric delicate, almost bridal. The contrast between the innocent lingerie and the knowing look in her eyes was intentional. You could see it in the way she tilted her head, the way she watched you watching her.
"Three clients," she said. "Three women who need to be reminded what it feels like to be touched." She stepped closer. "Three women who've been talking about you for weeks."
On the coffee table, you noticed for the first time a folded piece of paper. It was propped against the champagne bottle, your name written on the front in Senior Park's precise, old-fashioned handwriting. You crossed to it and picked it up.
Your client for this weekend is the three of them. They've been planning this for a month. Don't disappoint them. — SP
You swallowed.
The sound was audible in the quiet suite. Ga Young heard it and laughed—that same low, warm laugh from before. "Nervous? The man who made me come twice against a window is nervous?"
"Not nervous." You folded the note and tucked it into your pocket. "Just… recalibrating."
"Recalibrate faster." Karina had crossed the room to stand beside Ga Young. The two of them together were a study in contrasts—Karina's burgundy against Ga Young's champagne, the idol's sharp, aggressive beauty against the actress's delicate, knowing allure. "We've been waiting a long time for this. All three of us. We've been planning it ever since Wonyoungie called me the morning after your session."
"I didn't just call her." Wonyoung had moved to your other side, bracketing you between the three of them. Her lavender lingerie made her skin look luminous, the pale tea-colored nipples visible through the sheer fabric. "I told her everything. Everything you did. Everything you said. Every way you made me feel." Her voice dropped, became something softer, more intimate. "And she told me what you did with her. And then Ga Young unnie said she wanted to find out for herself, and we decided—why not all three of us? Why not a weekend?"
"Because none of us has ever had this." Ga Young's hand found your shoulder. Her fingers traced the line of your collarbone through your shirt. "None of us has ever had a man who knew what he was doing. Who cared about making us feel good. Who looked at us like we were women instead of objects." She paused. "We wanted to share you. Just for a weekend. Just to remember what it feels like."
"To be alive," Karina said.
"To be wanted," Wonyoung added.
"To be fucked properly," Ga Young finished.
The three of them were close now. Close enough that you could smell them—Karina's perfume, something floral and expensive; Wonyoung's shampoo, jasmine and vanilla; Ga Young's skin, still warm from sleep, still carrying the faint musk of last night's sex. They were looking at you with the same expression. The same hunger. The same desperate, aching need that you'd seen in each of them individually but never all at once.
"Take off your shirt," Karina said.
The command was soft but firm. The same voice she'd used when she'd first welcomed you to her mansion, but stripped of the nervousness now. This was a woman who'd spent three weeks waiting for this moment. This was a woman who knew exactly what she wanted.
You unbuttoned your shirt. Slowly. Deliberately. The three of them watched every movement—the slide of each button through its hole, the parting of the fabric, the reveal of your chest. When you shrugged the shirt off your shoulders, Wonyoung made a small sound—a quiet, involuntary hum of appreciation.
"His body is different in the daylight," she murmured. "I couldn't see it properly last time. It was dark. I was…" She swallowed. "I was distracted."
"You were crying," Ga Young said. Not unkindly. Just matter-of-fact. "You told me you cried."
"I did. I cried a lot." Wonyoung's eyes met yours. "But I also came. Twice. The first real orgasms of my life."
"Mine too." Karina's voice was quieter now. "The first real ones. The only real ones."
Ga Young's hand slid from your shoulder to your chest. Her palm was warm against your skin. "And I came twice last night. The first time I've ever come with a partner. The first time I've ever come without faking it." Her fingers traced the line of your pectoral, down to your abdomen. "So you see, we have a lot to thank you for. And a lot more we want to experience."
"Together," Karina said.
"Together," Wonyoung echoed.
The word hung in the air between you. Together. Three women who'd spent years being neglected, being ignored, being treated like accessories to their husbands' careers. Three women who'd found each other in the loneliness and decided to do something about it. Three women who were looking at you now with the same expression—expectant, hungry, alive.
"Are you going to be able to handle all three of us?" Ga Young's voice was teasing, but there was a genuine question beneath the playfulness. "We're not going to be gentle with you. We've been planning this for a month. We have… ideas."
"Three days," Karina said. "Three women. One man." She stepped closer, close enough that her breasts—still encased in that burgundy lace—brushed against your arm. "Think you can keep up?"
"Senior Park seemed to think so." You looked at the note still folded in your pocket. "He wouldn't have booked me if he didn't."
"Senior Park is a smart man." Wonyoung had moved behind you. Her hands found your shoulders, her fingers pressing into the muscle, kneading gently. "He told us you were the best. He told us you could handle anything. He told us you wouldn't break."
"I won't break."
"Good." Ga Young's hand was still on your chest, her thumb tracing idle circles over your sternum. "Because we're not going to break you. We're going to use you. All three of us. However we want. Whenever we want. For the whole weekend." She looked up at you, and her eyes were dark and serious despite the smile playing at the corner of her lips. "Is that understood?"
"Understood."
"Good boy." She patted your chest and stepped back. "Then let's get started. The bedroom's big enough for all four of us. I checked."
She turned and walked toward the bedroom, the champagne robe trailing behind her like a whisper. Karina followed, her hips swaying with that dancer's grace she'd never lost despite years away from the stage. Wonyoung released your shoulders and moved around you, her lavender lingerie pale against the gray walls of the suite, and when she reached the bedroom doorway, she looked back over her shoulder.
"Are you coming?"
The question was simple. The answer was simpler.
You followed them into the bedroom.
The bed was still rumpled from the night before—the sheets twisted, the pillows scattered, the faint impressions of Ga Young's body still visible on the mattress. The morning light was stronger here, flooding through the windows, making everything look clean and bright and new. The three women arranged themselves on the bed with the ease of long practice—Ga Young in the center, propped against the headboard; Karina on her left, sitting cross-legged with her burgundy lingerie stark against the white sheets; Wonyoung on her right, her long legs stretched out in front of her, her lavender set a soft contrast to the sharper colors around her.
They looked at you. Waiting.
"Clothes off," Ga Young said. "All of them. We want to see what we're working with."
You unbuckled your belt. The sound was loud in the quiet room. Three pairs of eyes tracked the movement of your hands—the slide of leather through the buckle, the pop of the button, the hiss of the zipper. Your pants fell to the floor. Your boxers followed.
Your cock was already half-hard. Responding to the attention, the anticipation, the sheer overwhelming presence of three beautiful women watching you undress. Ga Young's eyes flicked down, then up again. The corner of her mouth twitched.
"He's bigger than I remembered," Karina murmured.
"He's thicker than I remembered," Wonyoung added.
"And he knows how to use it." Ga Young's voice was satisfied. "He used it in my throat last night. And in my cunt. And against the window." She gestured at the glass, still faintly smeared from where her body had pressed against it. "I left a mark."
"So did I." Wonyoung's voice was soft, almost wistful. "At my penthouse. On the sheets. I haven't washed them yet. I keep thinking I should, but I can't bring myself to do it."
"I know what you mean." Karina's eyes met yours. "I still have the sheets from my first time with him. They're in the back of my closet. Joon-ho never goes in there. He never goes anywhere in that house except his study and his bedroom." She paused. "He has his own bedroom. We've always had separate bedrooms. He said it was better for his sleep."
"Seok-joong has his own apartment." Wonyoung's voice was flat. "He lives there with his current girlfriend. A trainee. She's nineteen."
"My husband has his own continent." Ga Young's laugh was bitter. "He's been to Seoul for six weeks in two years. Six weeks. He's probably slept with half of Manhattan in that time."
The three of them were quiet for a moment. The morning light poured through the windows, and the city glittered below, and the three women on the bed were looking at each other with an expression that was part grief and part fury and part something else—something that looked almost like hope.
Then Ga Young shook her head. "No. No more talking about husbands. That's not what this weekend is for." She looked at you, and the fire was back in her eyes. "This weekend is for us. For pleasure. For release. For everything we've been denied." She patted the mattress beside her. "Come here. It's time to earn your paycheck."
You climbed onto the bed.
The mattress dipped beneath your weight. The three women shifted to accommodate you—Ga Young making room in the center, Karina and Wonyoung flanking her on either side. You ended up face-to-face with Ga Young, close enough to see the faint lines around her eyes, the small scar on her chin from some childhood accident, the way her pupils were already dilating with anticipation.
"Kiss me," she said. "Kiss me, and then kiss them. We've been waiting. We've all been waiting."
You kissed her.
It was different from last night's kisses. Last night had been about dominance—the rough press of lips, the battle for control, the assertion of power. This kiss was slower. More deliberate. A kiss of greeting rather than conquest. Ga Young's lips parted beneath yours, and her tongue met yours with a soft, exploratory touch. She tasted like sleep and champagne and something indefinably her.
When you pulled back, she was smiling. "Now Karina."
You turned. Karina was watching you with dark eyes, her burgundy lingerie stretched tight across her breasts, her breathing already uneven. She didn't wait for you to lean in. She closed the distance herself, her hands coming up to frame your face, her kiss hungry and urgent and full of three weeks of waiting.
"It's been too long," she whispered against your mouth. "Three weeks. Three weeks of thinking about you. Three weeks of touching myself and pretending it was your hands."
"And now?"
"Now I don't have to pretend." She kissed you again—quick and fierce—then pulled back. "Wonyoung's turn."
Wonyoung was the shyest of the three. She'd been hesitant last night, tentative in the penthouse, uncertain about what she was allowed to do. But now she leaned in with more confidence, her lips brushing yours with a gentleness that was almost teasing. Her hand found your chest, her palm flat against your sternum, feeling your heartbeat.
"I've been thinking about you too," she murmured. "Every night. Every morning. I've been thinking about what you did to me. What you made me feel." She kissed you again—longer this time, deeper. "I want to feel it again. All of it. Everything."
"You will."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
She smiled. The expression transformed her face—made her look younger, lighter, more like the idol she'd been before the marriage and the neglect and the loneliness. "Good. Then let's get started. Ga Young unnie's been waiting the longest. She should get the first turn."
"Agreed." Karina was already shifting on the bed, repositioning herself to give Ga Young more room. "We've got three days. We can take our time."
"Three days," Ga Young echoed. She was lying back against the pillows now, her champagne robe falling open, her body bare and waiting. "Three days, three women, one man." She looked up at you, and her smile was sharp and hungry and full of promise. "Let's see what you're made of."
At the forest not far from the "POP" MV shooting location...
"Ah... oh... um... um... I... I'm about to die... oppa is too... Hard, so...deep...cumming again...ahhhhhh..." A woman's obscene sounds kept coming from the woods. It was obvious that this woman was enjoying a climax. The fat body of a middle-aged man in his forties or fifties is pressing down on a snow-white body from behind and thrusting desperately into it. A burst of "pah, pah, pah, pah" made people imagine. Take a closer look at the woman who screamed lewdly. It's Twice's Nayeon and the middle-aged man is the MV director of her solo song ‘POP’.
"Little slut, you feel so good just by inserting it casually. You are going to heaven soon." The director said with a lewd smile and began to thrust slowly and steadily. Each time, he deliberately thrust into Nayeon's pussy, making her feel more and more excited. It was so numb that half of her soul flew away.
"It feels so good... ah... ah... it feels so good... ah... oppa is good at fucking... ah... it feels so good to fuck Nayeon... ah... ah... Nayeon is almost fucked to death by... oppa ..." Nayeon let out a sweet moan while being fucked, screaming, she was so happy that she couldn't help herself.
"Fuck! I've noticed a long time ago that you Twice are all sluts. You look like you need someone to fuck you! Let me fuck you to death today, you stinky bitch." After hearing Nayeon's lewd screams, the director suddenly buckled down hard. Holding Nayeon's waist, he thrust hard and fast, moving like an electric motor, and the long and thick penis pressed hard against her womb, making Nayeon roll her eyes in pleasure and utter nonsense. She was talking gibberish, her lower body was dripping with water, and she was about to be fucked to death as she said.
"Ah, ah ah~~~~ I can't do it anymore... It feels so good... I'm going to go... Haaaaa I am cumming ah~~~~ "
“Fuck you to death! I'll fuck you to death!" The director grinned and didn’t reduce the pace of fucking Nayeon's pussy. He kept the same force and thrust harder, repeatedly thrusting his cock in and out from Nayeon’s pussy and out bringing higher frequency slapping sounds from his crotch and Nayeon's reddish buttocks.
"Ah... ah... it's reaching... it's reaching the womb... oh... um... it's going to go through... I’m going to break ... ugh..." The director's sexual desire and energy were unexpectedly strong.
His cock kept pushing in and out of Nayeon's pussy, constantly bringing out the transparent juice from Nayeon's pink pussy.
Waves of electric shock-like pleasure swept over her, making Nayeon curl up with her toes, her lower limbs twitching, and her pussy clamping on its own, like a greedy little mouth sucking the cock that was rushing inside her body. Nayeon's body kept producing nectar, and her legs were wet. She was worse than the most despicable prostitute. Every time the director thrust, there would be a lustful damp sound. In addition, Nayeon's pair of beautiful breasts were constantly played with by the director. The director is indeed a veteran of sex, when he plays with Nayeon's breasts with both hands, the force and focus are different, sometimes light and sometimes heavy. Sometimes the sensitive right nipple is rubbed by rough thumbs, and sometimes the left nipple is gently pinched and pulled. , the pleasure makes Nayeon couldn't help but raise her head and enjoy his erotic play with her body.
Under the director's crazy thrusting, Nayeon made soft and ecstatic sounds from time to time and pitifully moaned, her white and delicate body trembled and twisted. The man fucked her fiercely, "Puff, Puff", squeezing the pink lips into the vagina every time he inserted it, and then turning the lips out when pulling out. The juice around the vagina had been dried into a thick white mucus.
"You know how to moan, and you know how to suck, fuck! It feels so good! Little bitch! Moan louder... you really know how to shake your waist... shake it hard... oh... oh... it feels so good... fuck you... You need someone to fuck you huh...it's so tight...fuck you to death...fuck you to death..." The director suddenly accelerated his thrusting speed, pressed his whole body on Nayeon’s body, stuck out his tongue, and kept licking her face like a pervert.
"Ah~~~~~~~~~~I can't do it, Oppa~~~~~I can't do it. I can't do it~~~~~~~~I'm cumming. I'm cumming out." Nayeon's delicate body trembled, trying to grab something with both hands as if trying to move forward to escape the impact of the cock.
Seeing Nayeon's avoidance, the director immediately wrapped his hands tightly around Nayeon's slender waist, his face flushed red during the climax. He continued to bombard her already muddy vagina like heavy artillery.
"Ahh...ahhhhhh...I am going...crazy...ahhhhh...uhhhhh...let Nayeon go...Ahh." Nayeon's moans sounded like crying. The sound of flesh hitting together alternately with the sound of flesh hitting the ground.
"Ah ah... ah... oppa, I... feel so comfortable... so comfortable... ah ah... harder... fuck me... fuck me..." Nayeon's alluring body was pressed down to the tree by the director. She was pressed under his body, and her face showed a thrilling and charming look. The director was sweating profusely, shaking out a huge amount of hot sweat in the pumping. His breathing gradually became faster, and the movements of his lower body gradually accelerated, and he no longer deliberately controlled the intensity of the impact.
"O... Oppa, I... I really can't do it anymore... oh... oppa... oppa, please spare me... oh... oh... I have to wear it! I have to wear it... ah... oh... Oh... I'm going to die... Wu... Um... oppa... I'm going to die... I'm going to die... Ah... Ah... Uh-huh... I'm cumming... I'm cumming again... Oh... nearly cumming... uh uh..." The director continued to fuck her wet and soft pussy, which was so sore that Nayeon couldn’t bear it anymore and began to breathe unevenly. When Nayeon was about to climax, the director pulled out his cock and stopped inserting it. He only rubbed it slowly in a circular motion at Nayeon's clit.
Nayeon suddenly felt that her pussy had lost the sense of satisfaction, and she hurriedly shouted: "Eh... Huh? No... no... um... what..." Nayeon realized that the words she was about to say would be extremely lewd, so she only said a few words to protest.
"Huh? Little Nayeon, You don't want what? So you don't want me to continue to fuck you? Then forget it ..." The director tried to pull his cock out of Nayeon's pussy, but Nayeon almost reached orgasm, she couldn't bear it anymore. She couldn't care how lustful her words would be: "Ah...oppa...don't pull out...don't pull out...hurry up...fuck me...I can't stand it anymore..."
"Hahaha, little slut, I really don’t know how JYP has taught you such a slutty female idol! What do you want, where do you want it to be inserted? You need to be clear! Otherwise, I wouldn’t know.”
At this time, Nayeon could no longer care about shame, and she shouted loudly: “O...oppa, I want your... your big cock...insert...into Na… Nayeon’s little cunt... ah...". After hearing Nayeon's begging for mercy, the director thrust his cock in again, causing Nayeon to start moaning again: "Ah...ah...ah...um...ah...ah...oh... So...so full...um...".
A few minutes later, the director held Nayeon's body and sprinted for a while. The glans had swelled to the limit. With a squeak, he quickly pulled out of Nayeon's tender pussy, pulled her body over to face him, and groan in a hoarse voice: "Open up your mouth" Nayeon opened her small cherry mouth blankly, but the director immediately filled it.
"Ugh! Ugh!" Every time the director's cock pulsed in Nayeon's soft mouth, a stream of semen would spurt out. The thick and long cock penetrated straight into the throat, and the semen spurted out was poured directly into Nayeon's esophagus. But even like this, Nayeon's narrow mouth couldn't swallow all the cum, and it kept leaking from the corners of her mouth.
"Humph!" Nayeon groaned as she collapsed on the ground, and two streams of milky white semen slowly flowed down from her small nose, smelling like snot.
"Ahem, cough, cough." Nayeon's body twisted uneasily, but her little head was held down by the director obsessively. The cock was still pulsing, and the glans were still spitting out the essence of life.
"Huh~~" The director let out a sigh of relief, lowered his head and pulled out the penis that was gradually softening, only to find that Nayeon had lost consciousness. Semen kept spitting out from the corner of her mouth, and two lines of milky white were gushing out from both nostrils. It felt like the whole head was filled, and the mouth above and below were spitting out liquid at the same time.
After a short rest, Nayeon first swallowed the semen in her mouth, then stretched out her fingers to dip the slippery semen flowing out of her cheeks and nose into her delicate lips and stretched out her pink little tongue. Licking it clean, she kept reaching out to collect the puddles of semen toward her lips. When she flicked her pink tongue, the semen disappeared from Nayeon's mouth, leaving only a thin layer. The layer covered Nayeon’s chin and cheeks.
"Oppa, it's so delicious, but just too few." Nayeon licked the semen from the corner of her mouth with her tongue and said with a smile. Seeing this scene, the director suddenly felt that his soft cock became hard again, so he pounced forward again and pressed on Nayeon's body again. As Director pressed on her again, Nayeon was quickly penetrated by his cock again, and she let out an "uh" sound. The two began to fuck again, and the sound of sex indicated that they would not be silent for a while.
At the filming site of "Time to Twice: Death Note", after an entire day of fierce game, the members of TWICE put away their makeup and asked their managers if they could get off work.
Every time a variety show is filmed, there is a punishment for the loser of the day's game, which is to become the staff's cumdump after the filming is over to thank them for their efforts.
Unfortunately, Chaeyoung is the toilet today. She was planning to date her boyfriend Zion. T after getting off work, but it seems she must first fulfill her responsibilities as a cum dump and avoid being discovered by her boyfriend.
"Ah... Chaeyoung, you performed great today~ But because you lost, you have to stay!" Tzuyu winked at Chaeyoung mischievously.
"Yes, yes...I know." Chaeyoung lowered her head, with a bit of embarrassment on her face.
The other members of TWICE looked at each other and smiled, then left the set and went home to rest. Chaeyoung was left alone in the empty waiting room.
Chaeyoung took out her phone and checked the time - her boyfriend would be arriving to pick her up for dinner in half an hour. But now she must fulfill the punishment task of being the loser, becoming the staff's toilet, using her body to thank the staff for their hard work.
Chaeyoung took a deep breath, stood up slowly, and put on a pair of black stockings to make her legs look longer.
"Dong, dong, dong -" there was a knock on the door, and it was the staff who came in.
Chaeyoung immediately knelt down on the ground obediently, raised her head, and said with a smile: " Hello staff, I am Chaeyoung, today's cumdump. Which part of me do you want to use?"
The head of the staff looked at Chaeyoung and said with a smile: " Chaeyoung is dressed very beautifully today, but since you are our slut, please take off your clothes. "
Chaeyoung nodded slightly. In an instant, Chaeyoung was naked in front of everyone, wearing nothing but black stockings.
"Wow, this black stocking suits you so well!" The staff members exclaimed and gathered around, caressing Chaeyoung's beautiful legs in black stockings, and gently pressing her delicate private parts from time to time.
" Well ... thank you for your compliments ... I… I will do my best to meet your needs ... Please feel free to enjoy my body ..." Chaeyoung said softly with a blushing face, holding herself in her hands Breasts, letting the staff's fingers roam around her body.
At this moment, Chaeyoung's cell phone suddenly vibrated, and the caller ID was her boyfriend.
"Eh-" Chaeyoung screamed, quickly turned off the vibrate mode, and then held her phone tightly. She is currently serving the staff. If her boyfriend knows that she has done such a shameful thing on the set of a variety show, he will definitely be angry!
"What's wrong, Chaeyoung? What's the matter?" The staff noticed Chaeyoung's reaction and asked with concern.
Chaeyoung shook her head and said: " No, it's okay ... someone just called me ... I-I won't let other things affect your enjoyment ... Please continue to enjoy my body ..."
After Chaeyoung finished speaking, she relaxed and returned to her role as a slut. One of the staff members took off his pants and pointed his erect penis directly at Chaeyoung. Chaeyoung crawled over knowingly, took the thick penis in her mouth, and began to swallow it up and down. At the same time, another staff member kneaded the two breast peaks on Chaeyoung's chest, making them change into various shapes.
"Ah... it feels so comfortable... Chaeyoung's little mouth is so good... it makes me almost cum..."
Chaeyoung's mouth was full and she couldn't answer at all. She just sucked the cock in her mouth harder, her tongue lingering between the sensitive crown and glans. At the same time, she did not forget to twist her waist and rub the genitals of another staff member with her labia.
"Chaeyoung, you're wet down there...can't you wait to be fucked?"
Chaeyoung heard the movements behind her and hurriedly increased the speed of her little hands, hoping to help the man in front of her reach climax, and then let the man behind her love her. Unfortunately, she miscalculated. As the man in front of her roared, streams of hot liquid poured directly into her throat, forcing her to slow down to avoid suffocation.
" Ahem...oooo..." Chaeyoung finally swallowed the white semen in her mouth. Before she could take a breath, the cock from behind was inserted into her heart mercilessly.
"Ah——!!" Chaeyoung raised her head and screamed, the nectar couldn't stop flowing out, wetting the black silk on her inner thighs. When the man in front of her saw this, his penis that had just softened after ejaculation became hard again. He held Chaeyoung's hair and forced her to take his penis into her mouth again.
At this time, another men took off his pants, rubbed his erect penis against her anus.
"Uh...wu...don't, it can't work there..." Chaeyoung let out a broken plea, but in exchange for the man behind her, he thrust more fiercely, and every impact pushed the cock deeper into her mouth.
The two men looked at each other and at the same time forcefully inserted their genitals into Chaeyoung's two holes and started crazy piston movements.
All three holes in Chaeyoung's body were filled, and the huge pleasure almost pushed her to the edge of collapse. She could only barely stay awake, licking the cock in her mouth and back one after another, and holding two penises in her hand to move up and down.
"Ah... Chaeyoung's mouth and ass are so comfortable... We are going to cum inside you..."
"I can't help it anymore...get ready to catch my cum!"
Chaeyoung heard the man's warning and tried hard to avoid it, but the man in front held her head down, and the man behind pushed her in hard, completely blocking her escape route. So, in the next second, three streams of hot liquid spurted out at the same time, filling Chaeyoung's mouth, vagina and ass.
"Gulu...Gulu..." Chaeyoung weakly swallowed the smelly white cum in her mouth, but a large amount still overflowed from her mouth and flowed to her chin and neck. The semen of the latter two people was poured directly into her body, and her belly quickly swelled.
"Chaeyoung's belly has grown a lot, no wonder it leaks~" the men onlookers joked, some took out their cocks and masturbated, while others couldn't wait to join the gangbang.
"Chaeyoung, have you rested? We still have many staffs who want to fuck you~"
"Yes... I have rested... Please continue to enjoy my body..." Chaeyoung lay on the ground, raising her butt high, as if she was ready for them to take advantage of.
Upon seeing this, the staff immediately swarmed over. Some held Chaeyoung's waist and penetrated her body again, while others penetrated her ass. Some stood in front and let her lick their genitals. Some people grabbed her hands and used them up and down ...
Chaeyoung was completely occupied, every available hole was filled to the brim. Her whole body was shaking like convulsions, but she was still trying her best to please everyone who penetrated her.
"Ah... Chaeyoung's pussy is so tight and hot... I'm going to cum..."
"Chaeyoung, it feels so good...I want to cum in your mouth too..."
"Me too...I want to cum in Chaeyoung's ass...fill her up..."
The staff's urgings came one after another, and soon several more people ejaculated into Chaeyoung's body. Her belly became more and more distended, as if she were pregnant. But this is far from over. A new man takes over the old position and continues to violate every inch of Chaeyoung's skin.
" Oh ... so many ... too many ... I really can't bear it ..." Chaeyoung cried and begged for mercy, but the staff did not let her go, but punished her harder for lying.
"You little bitch, you obviously like to be gang-banged, don't you? Look at the water from your pussy flowing everywhere!" The man mocked, and then he thrust hard again.
"Ahhhh——!!"
Chaeyoung screamed and reached her climax, but what followed was an even more violent attack. The staff seemed to be stimulated and attacked more fiercely than before.
"It seems that our little tiger is being fucked very well~ Then let us cum a little more and fill your belly with our seeds!"
"Yes, you are so beautiful, and your figure is so sexy, we just can't help but want to take possession of you!"
The staff used all kinds of insulting words and behaviors towards Chaeyoung curiously. They not only wanted to conquer her physically, but also completely destroyed her mentally.
"Don't...don't cum anymore...I really can't bear it..." Chaeyoung begged, but she was only greeted with more violations and humiliation.
" Can't stand it? I think you are dissatisfied with your desires! Look, the water below you keep flowing, just like a bitch! " After saying that, the man behind her slapped Chaeyoung hard, on her snow-white buttocks, leaving red palm prints on it.
"Woof woof..." Chaeyoung was so slapped that she lost all her senses and subconsciously started barking like a dog. The man behind her excitedly increased his strength and fucked her like a real bitch.
Seeing this, other staff members followed suit. They kneaded Chaeyoung's breasts and nipples, turning her into a real "cow"; others grabbed her ankles, folded her into a V shape, and inserted her from above. Her vagina makes her look more like a pussy than a human being.
"Ahh... woof woof..."
Under this extreme humiliation and torture, Chaeyoung's consciousness gradually blurred, but the flow of juice under her body never stopped. She could no longer tell whether it was physical pleasure or psychological humiliation that was dominant. She only knew that she was unknowingly indulged in this group sex feast.
"It seems that our Miss Chaeyoung has accepted her identity~" the men teased, speeding up their thrusts.
" Woof woof ... woof woof ... Master ... please enjoy my body ... I am your exclusive doggy ..." Chaeyoung murmured, looking at one stick after another with blurred eyes. A penis moving in and out of one's own mouth.
Her voice had become hoarse and broken, but the resignation and desire in her tone became more and more obvious. The staff were greatly encouraged after hearing this, and the intensity of the attack became a little stronger.
"Miss Chaeyoung is such a naughty bitch, we must make you pregnant with our seed!"
"That's right, let's burst Chaeyoung's belly completely so that she will always remember this day!"
After Chaeyoung heard this, instead of feeling scared, she became excited. She began to suck the cock in her mouth harder, and her hands worked harder on the other ones, for fear that someone would reach climax before someone ejaculated inside her.
For a moment, the room was filled with the moans and heavy breathing of men and Chaeyoung, and the lewd scene was like hell. However, for Chaeyoung at this moment, this is paradise in her heart.
At this moment, Chaeyoung suddenly felt the person behind her speed up, and then a stream of heat shot into her body. Then the second and third one reached climax one after another, spreading their own seeds into Chaeyoung's body.
" Ah ... it's so deep ..." Chaeyoung closed her eyes and enjoyed the aftermath of her orgasm. She couldn't even tell who the semen belonged to.
"Okay, it's time to change." The man in front pulled out his penis, and the other man immediately took his place. The man who had ejaculated behind Chaeyoung just now stepped aside and played with Chaeyoung's breasts and private parts with the others.
Chaeyoung felt that her vagina and anus were filled with different cocks again, but by this time she was already used to this extreme feeling of fullness. She took the initiative to raise her breasts to meet the man's touch, and her slender legs were wrapped around the waist of the man who was fucking her, squirming like a snake.
"Good child, we will take good care of you." The staff gently stroked Chaeyoung's hair, as if comforting a well-behaved pet.
" Woof woof ... thank you, master ..." Chaeyoung showed a grateful expression, with only the desire for cock in her eyes. She was completely immersed in this crazy gang rape feast and forgot about the date with her boyfriend and even herself. She now has only one identity - the exclusive doggy sex slave of the production staffs.
Chaeyoung's moans kept echoing in the studio. Her body was covered with large and small hickeys and fingerprints. Her nipples stood high, and her labia were opened by being fucked, revealing a muddy inside. However, there was no pain in her expression, only extreme comfort and satisfaction.
" Ah ... Masters ... Chaeyoung wants more ..." Chaeyoung moaned, actively twisting her buttocks to match the man's thrusts. Her belly was already swollen and filled with semen from different men. But this was far from enough to satisfy her thirst for sex.
"Our little bitch has a big appetite~" the man teased, increasing the force, hitting Chaeyoung's womb with every blow.
" Woof woof ... yes ... Chaeyoung wants more ... Masters, please give it to me ..." Chaeyoung said incoherently, her mind already overwhelmed by sexual desire.
In this way, Chaeyoung kept climaxing under the men's repeated fuck. Under Chaeyoung's tireless demands, every staff member on the set cummed at least two or three times. Until the last stick of incense burned out, the staff on the set were so tired that they lay on the ground panting, unable to erect anymore.
"Please ... I still want..." Although Chaeyoung's whole body was sore from being fucked, her sexual desire has not diminished at all, and she is still looking for a cock that can still erect. She crawled in front of each man and worked hard to peel off their loose foreskin with her hands or mouth, trying to find one or two fairly hard cocks to continue serving.
"Masters...give me a little more..." Chaeyoung crawled towards the nearest man, trying to swallow his weak lower body. But no matter how hard she tried, the man couldn't get any harder.
It's a pity that these staff members have been completely drained by Chaeyoung. No matter how she teases them, their cocks can only barely lift their heads and soon become soft again.
"Woof woof...please, masters...give me a little more...I still want..." Chaeyoung raised her butt and spun around in front of the men, but she only received a burst of ridicule.
"What should I do... it won't work anymore... I haven't been fed yet..." Chaeyoung muttered aggrievedly, looking at the male staff who were still young and fit, and holding the men's genitals up and down with her small hands, trying to inject some life into them.
" I can't do it anymore ... You can find someone else ..." One of them said helplessly. It seemed that he could no longer meet Chaeyoung's needs.
Chaeyoung kept twisting her body, serving each cock with her mouth and hands, trying to tease them to get hard again. However, no matter how hard she tried, those limp cock could not be brought back to life.
" Chaeyoung, we are really tired. Can we play with you next time? " Another person also said.
Facing everyone's rejection, Chaeyoung seemed a little disappointed. But she didn't stop there. Instead, she crawled up to the male staff who were not yet involved and looked at them expectantly.
"Then...can you...?" she asked carefully.
"Sorry, I can't do it either." The man sighed, "We really can't keep up with your pace."
Just like that, Chaeyoung glanced at everyone present one by one, and got the same answer.
"What should I do...I still want..." Chaeyoung looked down sadly at her private parts, which were still muddy, and cum seemed to be flowing out from there. She longed for a new cock to enter it and fill the void within it.
In the end, Chaeyoung was left playing with the weak cocks around her. She seemed completely immersed in her fantasy and had forgotten everything about the outside world.
‘LG Twins! LG Twins!’ The cheer from the stadium is too loud, which can be clearly heard even in the toilet. Sana was invited to attend the match today for the ceremonial first pitch today. However, as soon as the match starts, she secretly goes to the changing room of LG Twins. The jersey she wears is cut specifically to show her waist, the jeans are extra tight to highlight her huge ass.
Sana takes a deep breath, pretending to be calm and opens the door. ‘Is anyone here?’ Sure enough, there is a man waiting here, a director from LG Twins, who sends the invitation to JYP.
"Come on, Sana, let's get started." The man raises the corners of his mouth and shows an evil smile. "What...start?" Sana asked knowingly.
"Of course, I want to enjoy your soft and fragrant body." The man grabs Sana's wrist, pushes her down on the bench without any explanation, then leans down and kisses Sana's lips...
Sana knows that the current situation could not be reversed, so she simply stops resisting and lays down on the bench obediently, raising her neck slightly to receive the man's passionate kiss.
While kissing Sana, the man stretches out his hand to knead the two bulges on Sana's chest. The other hand slips into Sana's jeans and wanders around the top of her thigh.
"Hmm..." Sana couldn't help but hum softly as she feels the stimulation coming from the sensitive parts of her body.
The man's actions become more and more unscrupulous. He pulls away Sana's jersey, bites and sucks on Sana's fair and smooth skin, leaving wet marks. At the same time, his fingers also penetrated Sana's underwear, pressing and teasing Sana's most private parts.
"Ah...ha..." Sana couldn't help but twist her body and her breathing becomes rapid.
"Sana is so sensitive, already emotional right from the beginning." The man raises his head and smiles proudly.
Sana deliberately put on a flirtatious expression, licked her lips and said, "Yes, when I see a strong man like you, I can't help but get wet down there."
"Really? Then I'm going to take good care of that 'little devil' below you." The man pulls down Sana's underwear with great interest and directly swirls the tip of his tongue on her clitoris.
"Oh...ah...no..." Sana was so stimulated that her whole body was numb, but she still keep saying seductive words in her mouth: "Harder...eat me until I am clean...um."
After hearing this, the man really increasedhis strength. His tongue flexibly rolls and licks Sana's core. Occasionally, he would insert the entire length into Sana's vaginal opening and thrust it a few times.
"Ah... it's so deep... I'm going to cum..." Sana screams, and a large amount of semen spurts out from the her clit, pouring into the man's mouth.
"Miss Sana is having some much water, I'm almost drowning." The man says and swallows all of Sana's juice, and once again takes Sana's lower body and sucks wildly.
"No... I… cum... ah -" Sana screams and spurts out spurts of orgasmic semen, all which lands on the man's naked upper body.
"Finally, I thought you were going to gag me." The man licks his lips, then stands up and unzips his pants.
After Sana sees his size clearly, she immediately covers her mouth and widened her eyes - this man's penis is too big and hard, and it seems that her pussy would be red and swollen from being penetrated.
"Don't be afraid, I will enter slowly later." The man pats Sana's head comfortingly, then turns Sana over and kneels her down on the bench.
"Let's start from the back first." The man holds his huge penis against the entrance of Sana's wet pussy, and slowly but powerfully pushed inside.
Sana couldn't help but gasp as she frld the man's hot penis gradually penetrate into her body. "It's so big...you're going to fill me up..." Sana looks back at the man, her eyes blurred and unexplained.
"You're so tight, just like a virgin." The man enjoys the way Sana's cavity walls clamps around his penis, and he couldn't help but growl in pleasure.
Sana shakes her hips and bumps back in time with the man's rhythm. "Ah...go deeper...insert it all the way inside..." Sana is completely immersed in lust, moaning wildly.
"As you wish." The man suddenly straightens his waist, and the entire length of his penis is being inserted into Sana's pussy.
"Oh!!!" Sana screams as she climbs into another orgasm, nectar leaking from the joint and soaking the bench. The man grabs Sana's waist and fucks her without stopping. He penetrates as deep as possible with every thrust, and his huge cock moves in and out of Sana's pussy like a piston, making a slurping sound.
"It feels so good... Harder... Penetrate me... Ah——" Sana is completely lost in the sea of pleasure, just wanting more and more. The man is also so happy that he growls again and again. He pinches Sana's breasts and rubs them with one hand, and penetrates Sana's anus with the other hand, torturing Sana in three ways.
"Oh oh oh...” Sana feels a tingling sensation coming from her anus. Her anal canal was pried open and expanded by the man's fingers, and her tight muscles contracted instinctively, which makes the man feel even more happy.
"The hole in the back of you is also good at sucking " The man laughs.
Sana blushes with embarrassment, but her brain is soon occupied by the pleasure in both holes, and she could only scream loudly.
"Hurry...don't stop...it's coming...ahhhhh-" Sana collapses to the ground after a fierce climax, but the man does not let her go, but accelerates the fucking.
"Oh...I am going to be broken...how can you last so long..." Sana begs in a daze, but couldn't stop herself from catering to the man.
The man stops and looks at Sana with a half-smile: "Don't you like it very much? Why do you want me to stop again?"
"No...I want you..." Sana doesn't know how to express her desire, so she blushes and lowers her head.
"What do you want from me?" The man approachs step by step, licking Sana's ear.
"I want you to...insert me inside...fuck me hard..." Sana yells out these words without any hesitation, just hoping that the man could satisfy her desires.
"As you wish." The man chuckles and startes again. His cock and finger advanced deep into Sana's body at the same time, as if they were about to penetrate Sana.
"Ahhhh - it's so deep... it's about to burst... but... please don't stop..." Sana cries out as her nipples were pinched hard by the man, and a finger was inserted deeply into her anus. The sensitive points on both front and back were extremely stimulated, causing her to reach another climax very quickly.
"Ahhh... I'm going to die..." Sana rolles her eyes, a large amount of transparent juice gushes out from the place of intercourse, making the man's crotch muddy.
However, the man has no intention of stopping at all. He increases the speed of thrusting and says viciously: "You haven't been fucked enough by me yet."
Sana barely struggles to support her upper body, looks at the man and begs for mercy: "I really can't do it anymore... I'm about to be penetrated down there... You..."
The man suddenly leans down and bites Sana's lips, kissing her roughly. At the same time, the movements of his lower body become faster and harder. His huge penis is rubbing in and out of Sana's body, as if he is trying to turn Sana's vagina completely out.
"Um...slow down...I'm going to suffocate..." Sana is almost choked by the kiss, but she couldn't help but respond to the man's manipulation.
The man let go of Sana's lips, raises her chin and stares into her eyes: "You said you want me to slow down, do you want me to stop or do you want me to fuck you slower?"
Sana is stunned for a moment, and then she understands what the man meant, and her face turns red: "Just fuck me more slowly... I can bear it..."
"Very good." The man smiles with satisfaction. He indeed slows down the speed, but the intensity of the fucking increased a lot, and each thrust is as deep as possible.
"Oh...so deep...so comfortable..." Sana moans unconsciously, the nectar gurgling out and forming a clear spring on the man's thigh.
The man is even more proud when he sees this. He grabs Sana's waist and sprints hard. His thick penis quickly moves in and out of Sana's body, making a "slapping" sound.
"You are such a little devil, this pussy is just full of water." The man jokes.
Sana is ashamed, but also excited by the man's vulgar words. She couldn't help but twist her hips to meet the man's manipulation, and at the same time gently rubs her clit with her fingers, hoping to get more pleasure.
"Ahh... faster... I'm cumming..." Sana screams loudly. She feels that her orgasm is approaching, and she is only one step away from reaching the peak of bliss.
The man seems to be aware of Sana's state. He no longer holds back, but thrust with all his strength. His thick penis moves in and out of Sana's body quickly, making a "Gurgling" sound.
"Are you cumming? I'm going to make you feel so good." The man smiles evilly and suddenly accelerates his speed and sprints vigorously, crushing Sana's G-spot with every stroke.
"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!" Sana screams as she climaxed. Her whole body convulses, and a large amount of nectar squirts out, spraying all over the man.
The man's face is sprayed with Sana's juice, but he didn't feel disgusted at all. Instead, he looks excited. "You're so horny, you squirted like this." The man teases Sana, stroking her smooth back and gently slapping her buttocks.
Sana's cheeks are so red that they are about to bleed. She never thought that she would reach such an orgasm under the gaze of a stranger. But she also feels unprecedented satisfaction and pleasure, as if her entire body was filled.
"Do you still want it? I can continue to serve you." The man whispers in Sana's ear, his voice full of temptation.
Sana shakes her head, but nods immediately. She didn't know how to answer this question. She knows her job is to satisfy the man, and desire makes her unable to resist the man's invitation.
When the man sees this, he doesn't ask any questions. He picks up Sana and turns her around into a missionary position, then kneels between her legs.
"This time I will make you completely happy." The man says as he straightens his back and inserts his penis into Sana's slippery pussy. "Oh..." Sana let out a sigh of relief. She raises her head and closes her eyes, letting the pleasure engulf her.
The man starts a new round of fucking. His movements are more powerful and rougher than before. Each thrust penetrates to the deepest point, crushing Sana's G-spot hard. At the same time, he keeps changing his rhythm, sometimes slowly, and sometimes he sprintes straight to the cervix.
"Do you like this position? I feel your vagina is sucking me tightly." The man teases while fucking.
Sana blushes with embarrassment. She knows that she must look very lustful now, but she doesn't care about it anymore and just screams loudly along with the rhythm of the man's fucking.
Sana is completely lost in the ecstasy of sex. She only knows how to follow the man's fucking and desperately wants him to penetrate deeper and faster.
"Oh... it's going to break... you inserted it too deep..." Sana cried, she could clearly feel the man's thick and long penis moving in and out of her body, and every time it was inserted as deep as possible...
The man doesn't care about this. He grabs Sana's waist and accelerates the speed. His huge penis quickly slams into Sana's body, making a "slap" sound. "I just want to see you crying and begging for mercy." The man growls, and his breathing gradually becomes heavier.
Sana couldn't bear it any longer, and she cries loudly with tears streaming down her face: "I'm cumming... Hurry up... faster..." The man fucks her more violently as if he is allowed to do so. His penis rushes wildly inside Sana, reaching the deepest point every time. Sana's womb was being hit again and again, and the pleasure sweeps over her like a tide, and soon she reaches another climax.
"Ah——!" Sana screames and bites the man's shoulder. Her whole body convulses, and a large amount of nectar squirt out again, covering the man's body.
The man is aroused by Sana's sudden attack. He growls and accelerates the speed of thrusting. His penis is rubbing rapidly inside Sana's body, and he is about to reach climax. As soon as Sana recovers from the afterglow of her climax, she was pushed up to a higher mountain by the man's wild fucking again.
Sana could clearly feel the man's thick penis thrusting deeper and deeper into her body, reaching her most sensitive sex center. She couldn't help but scream: "Don't...I’m going to break..."
However, the man ignores her cries. He grabs Sana's breasts and squeezes them hard. At the same time, he speeds up and fucks her hard. "I'm going to cum, are you ready?" the man grows, his voice a little hoarse.
Sana's reason has long since disappeared, and she just wants to pursue more and stronger pleasure. So she leaves a deep tooth mark on the man's shoulder, and at the same time twistes her hips to cooperate with the man's manipulation. "Cum in me...give it all to me..." Sana screames loudly. She could feel the man's thick penis swelling inside her body, as if it is about to spurt out in the next moment.
Sure enough, the man suddenly increased his speed, thrusting his long and thick penis rapidly inside Sana's body, hitting the G-spot hard with every thrust. Sana's senses were completely amplified at this time, and every groan and every gasp of the man turned into overwhelming pleasure and hit her.
"Oh——!" The man yells. He holds Sana's waist and penetrates deeply. His thick penis is completely immersed in Sana's body. Then a stream of hot semen shoots out and pours into Sana's womb.
Sana is also stimulated by the burning heat and reaches another climax. Her whole body is convulsing, and only broken moans are left in her mouth.
The man slowly pulls out his still erect penis, and a large amount of white turbid liquid flows out of Sana's slightly open clit, staining the bench underneath her.
Sana is a little dazed in the afterglow of orgasm, but when the man's penis is pulled out, she immediately wakes up. Sana looks at the penis that is still erected and covered with her own bodily fluids, and feels a strong desire for possession. She couldn't help but stick out her tongue and lick it gently, and then takes the entire glans in her mouth.
"Well... what a slut..." The man chuckles, but does not stop Sana's movement. He reaches out and strokes the back of Sana's head, guiding her to start cleaning up the results of his recent victory.
Sana moans seductively while licking every inch of her sex with her tongue. This scene is so erotic that the man couldn't help but sigh.
At the same time, the man does not let go of his attack on Sana. He continues to knead Sana's red and swollen breasts, and occasionally pinches the cherry at the top, causing Sana to gasp repeatedly.
"Ah... don't..." Sana still has half of his penis in her mouth, and the sounds from her mouth naturally turns into indistinct moans. But this sound is supremely beautiful music to a man's ears.
The man increases his intensity, rubbing Sana's breasts vigorously with his palms, and his penis moves back and forth into Sana's mouth, pushing into the depth of her throat from time to time. Sana feels like a lamb waiting to be slaughtered, with every part of her body being controlled by men. But she doesn't hate this feeling.
Sana's mouth is completely filled with the cock, but it was not enough to satisfy her. She swallows the huge thing harder, trying to take it all into her mouth.
When the man sees this, he doesn't stop her. He holds the back of Sana's head and thrusts his penis straight into Sana's mouth until it reaches the depths of her throat. Sana's saliva mixes with the previous body fluids, forming patches of foam between the entrance and exit of the genitals.
"Oh...it feels so good...your little mouth is really good at sucking..." The man couldn't help but growl, Sana's deep throat gives him great pleasure. Sana's mouth is narrow, moist, and hot, and Sana's tongue is very good at licking. All of this makes the man go crazy. So, the man no longer cares about Sana's feelings. He grabs Sana's hair and thrust his penis into her mouth quickly. His thick penis rubs in Sana's throat, and he soon reaches another climax.
"I'm going to cum... Just take it..." The man growls. When his penis is inserted to the deepest, he cums a large amount of hot semen, all pours into Sana's esophagus.
Sana choked and coughed from the sudden ejaculation, but she still managed to swallow most of it. She is not able to breathe until the man pulled out his genitals.
There is white liquid hanging from the corner of Sana's mouth, and there is a hint of longing in her eyes as she looks at the man.
Sana's eyes tell the man that she wanted to be creampied. But time is limited, and their game must end before others come back.
So the man leans down, bites one of Sana's earlobes, and whispers: "Wait for me, I will love you very much until midnight... According to the contract, you are my fuck toy until 12…"
After hearing the man's words, Sana's eyes immediately filled with water. The two spends a crazy afternoon in the locker room. When the whistle is blowed, the men is already dressed and ready to leave. Sana beside him is a little distracted. Although she is dressed as she came, the slightly bulging shape of her abdomen indicates some unusual condition.
On the way, the man asks Sana in a low voice: "Are you still feeling comfortable with my semen?" Sana nods shyly. Her womb is still filled with the man's semen, and she could feel the warm swaying in her body when she walks.
The man smiles. He pats Sana's butt and whispers, "There will be something better later... We will continue when we get to the hotel." Sana couldn't help but shivers when she hears it, but she doesn't refuse. It’s just another job.
Male reader x Momo (Ft a surprised Nayeon)
2.6k Words
Tags: Smut, Hardcore, Teasing, Domination, Kinks
As you enter Momo and Nayeon’s dorm, you look at the living room right in front of you. Momo walks you in and sits on the couch.
“Nayeon is busy today.” Momo said.
“Jihyo must have told you, didn’t she?"
“She did, sort of.” Momo gets up to grab a bottle of coconut water for you.
You look at her while she’s in the kitchen, opening the fridge. She’s wearing comfortable clothes with her hair done.
“Since Nayeon is out, we have all the time in here. Let me go change first.”
“Okay, Momo.”
You watch the TV as she opens her bedroom. Momo comes out wearing sexy lingerie that surprises you. Stunned as you are, she catwalks right in front of you. Your thoughts begin to run wild.
“Like the view?” Momo said.
“I-I do.”
“Touch me.” You slowly reach for her hips until she slaps your hand. “Do not touch.” Momo giggles after.
“Oh, you’re going to tease me until I can’t hold back? This is easy, Momo.”
“Oppa, don’t be so cocky.”
“We can do this all day, Momo.”
“I know you want me.” Momo teased you.
“I could say the same thing, Momo.”
You decide to tease her, wanting her to surrender to her own games. Momo sits right beside you, shoulder to shoulder, as she leans her head on you. She gets on her phone, scrolling through the internet while you patiently wait for Momo.
“You know you can check me out, right?"
“I know, Momo."
“I’ll order some pork to eat with you, but you have to get the food when they deliver it."
“Understood.” Her tits are amazing as you begin checking her out to your desires from head to toe, gulping secretly as Momo doesn't pay attention but knows you're looking at her.
You sit quietly, waiting until Momo can’t hold back. It becomes a mind game at this point, as you have all the time to make her surrender. She mashes her tits onto your shoulder, trying to get you turned on—you were, in fact, but being mentally patient is in your hands.
“The food is here; may you go grab it, please?” Momo pleaded. You stand up without a word and grab the food, coming back to sit by Momo. She opens the bag and places the food on the table. “Dig in; it’s my treat.”
You open the lids and hand Momo a fork; she stabs the rice cake, tapping your shoulders, and you look at her. Momo sucks on the rice cake, trying to make you lose your sanity and fuck her. You smile at her playfully with a gentle chuckle.
“Momo, I have all day.” You teased her and took off your shirt.
“You look slim when you wear a shirt but have some muscles.” Momo complimented your physique.
“Not much anymore.”
“I bet it’s enough for a threesome.” Momo teased you.
“Momo, don’t get any ideas."
“Is that a bullet wound?” Momo pointed near the back of your shoulders.
“It is; let’s not talk about it."
“Tell me.”
“No.”
“You’re boring.”
“Thanks.” You teased Momo.
“Stop being funny and fuck me already. Don’t you want to be inside me?"
“Surrender to your own game, Miss Hirai Momo.”
“No.” She picks up a slice of pork belly.
“I have all day.” You whispered in her ear and took a slice of pork belly to eat.
“Oppa, I bet you caught me checking you out when you started working for us. Even before all of this started happening.”
“It was very noticeable.”
She’s fighting her urge at this point, knowing you aren’t backing down as the pace of her heartbeat rises. You are hard already, but have enough discipline to not let hell break loose. After several minutes, the food on the table was finished. She gets up and throws the utensils away. You stare at her toned back, down to her thighs and ass. You’re amazed at her body; she's meaty and most definitely someone you would use your kinks on. She walks back, takes her bra off, and gives you a view of her tits.
“This should work on you; I know you want to touch my big tits."
“I do.”
“Touch me.”
“I know you’re going to shrug me off again, Momo."
“Okay, fine. I can’t take it anymore; you win. Let’s just fuck.” She takes off her panties and gets on top of you.
“Do not touch me, Momo.” You decide to tease her and grab her hands.
“Please?”
“How bad do you want it, Momo?"
“Oppa….” Momo puts her hands together like a prayer. “Please?”
You don’t answer her and let Momo do what she wants. Momo holds onto your face, kissing you passionately as she starts to grind slowly. You get up with her legs wrapped around you and pin her to the wall near her bedroom. Momo’s tits are mashed onto your chest as she keeps kissing you.
“I love your body, Momo.”
“I know you do.”
“Get off and let me put it in, Momo."
Momo gets off, and you pull her panties down, throw her lingerie back on the couch, and insert your finger inside her. She groans loudly in surprise as you reach deep into her walls. You pull your finger out and give her a quick taste.
“You can call me anytime. Let’s fulfill our fantasies together.” Momo pleaded.
You take off your pants and boxers, slowly teasing her folds with your tip, then insert your cock inside her. Momo squeals and moans softly as you thrust her while she spreads her legs.
“I love how deep you go into my pussy."
“You’re tight and so fucking wet already, Momo.” You penetrate her walls harder and choke her lightly. She arches her back, her head tilting more towards the wall. A small smile is seen on her face while she’s being choked. You grab onto her tits, squeezing them hard until they leave a print as you thrust slowly and deeply inside Momo. “You rather go to the bed or fuck right on this wall?”
“Fuck me here.” Momo said.
“Bend over on the wall for me, Momo.” You pull out of her, and she turns around to give you a view of her ass. You give them a firm slap, gripping them from side to side. Momo groans as you caress and grope her. You insert your cock back in Momo as she arches more with her cheeks and hair against the wall. You penetrate her harder and pull her hair back. Momo clenches her teeth, taking your hard cock that’s giving her pain and pleasure.
All you hear are her moans and groans from being penetrated. Momo’s ass bounces each time your pelvis collides with her amazing body. You arch closer to her and grab onto her tits to make her stand up while you keep thrusting. You trace your fingers along her body with one hand and onto her neck, choking her slightly harder as you squeeze her firm tits with your other hand. The room becomes louder with a deeper tone of bodies colliding.
“Your body is perfect to fuck, Momo."
“It’s all yours…either way.” She said as she fought her groans to speak. Her voice was husky from you choking her neck. “Let me give you a special performance after your turn is over."
“I want to cum inside you first, Momo."
“I’ll make you cum again and again after this too."
“I love your confidence, Momo. It turns me so on to hear it while you’re naked."
“Fuck!” Momo yelled.
“Cum for me, Momo. I know you want to.” You thrust her harder as her ass becomes mashed onto your pelvis. You glide your hand from her tits down to her clit, vigorously rubbing them in circles as she squirms. The room becomes louder, like a deep clap, consistently while you aggressively thrust her to your desires. Momo yells in a different pitch, clenching her teeth, and her eyes become shut. You push her to the wall gently with her cheeks mashed as she opens her mouth. She's breathing harder with her hair all messed up, clenching her teeth once again as she takes all the penetration.
Momo grabs onto your hand that’s rubbing her clit, squeezing tight as she starts to cum hard. She groans loudly, squealing next with her body all tense up and her feet curling into the floor. Her body pushes you, jerking and squirming hard as she’s still cumming. You feel how tight her walls get; thrusting harder is your only option as they become tighter. Her walls get you to your limit, pulsating violently, and you erupt inside her while she gasps for air. You release the pressure from her neck and hold onto her hips while her body is pinned to the wall.
“Momo." You took deep breaths.
“It was amazing. You came so hard."
“You did too, Momo. You’re amazing.”
“Let’s take a break and drink the coconut water that we forgot about.” Momo laughed. You pull out of her, and thick cum oozes out quickly and onto the floor like a puddle. She squats down, scooping the top layer of cum and giving it a taste. “It tastes so good."
“Jihyo loved it too."
“I bet we all will. It’s like a prize after a hard fuck. Let’s sit on the couch.”
You walk to the couch with Momo and chug down the coconut water. Momo quickly gets on top of you, jerking you off again to get you hard. You stare at Momo; she’s giving you a seductive smile with a confident glare.
“No rest? You’re so horny, Momo.”
“I’m going to make you cum harder. I don’t care how quick it is; I’m going to keep riding.” She spits on your cock after. “You’re all mine until I get off."
“Okay, I’m sorry for teasing you when you had your clothes on.”
“It’s too late, Oppa; it’s too late.” She whispered in your ear. She inserts your cock inside as you both exchange groans again. Momo rides you slowly, planning to catch you off guard as she keeps the slow pace. You play with her tits, circling them and slapping lightly. You see a smirk in her smile as you both look at each other. She giggles after and squats on the couch. Momo picks up the pace as you squeeze her tits harder. She holds onto your shoulder, riding you aggressively, yet it’s so smooth like a wave. You groan harder and louder, closing your eyes while she's staring you down.
“Fuck, Momo!”
“Cum if you can’t hold back. We aren’t done."
You remain in a trap, forgetting you can get her off without a problem, but she’s riding you so smoothly to the point of feeling paradise. You try to grab onto her tits, and Momo gets a hold of your hands, holding them to pin you down. She knows you enjoy this as she keeps her dominance. You breathe heavily, gasping as she gives you a soft, seductive chuckle.
“Fuck, you’re going to make me cum, Momo."
“Cum for me."
She rides you deeper, satisfying herself to see you getting exhausted quickly. There was no holding back, you erupt inside her and tilt your head back. She doesn’t stop, only wanting more to see you become weak to her riding you. She chuckles and places your hand on her tits to grab onto. You couldn’t lift your head up to see her; your head becomes heavy to even move due to her talent for riding.
“I finally get to see the weak side of you.” Momo teased you.
“You-”
“Want me to slow down?” You couldn’t respond as she kept riding. You breathe harder, trying to catch your breath. Momo doesn’t let you relax and keeps her pace to make you cum again. “I guess it’s a no."
You squeeze her tits as hard as possible, and she moans erotically at your aggression. She picks up the pace with riding and grinding on your cock. You can tell she’s not even tired from all her work, as she somehow keeps going. She lifts your head up and looks at each other. Her hair becomes more messy with stands glued to her opened mouth. She arches towards you to make out passionately, exchanging breaths while her ass collides with your pelvis.
You get to your limit after several minutes, exhausted at this point with your cock pulsating for another round of cum inside her pussy.
“Momo, I’m-” You erupt hard inside her as your body tenses up. She pauses deep on your cock, letting all the cum flood her walls as Momo moans from feeling you erupt inside her. She aggressively makes out with you. Suddenly, Nayeon opens the door without you and Momo knowing. Nayeon screams at the sudden appearance of you and Momo fucking on the couch. You both stare at Nayeon in silence.
“Na-” You couldn’t finish your word in surprise.
“Oops, we got caught, Oppa.” Momo said.
“What the fuck is wrong with you, Momo?" Nayeon said.
“I thought you’d be back in two hours."
“I never said it would take two hours.” Nayeon said in a displeased tone.
You sit there quietly with your cock still inside Momo and your hands on her tits. Nayeon goes to her room and closes the door. You try to get Momo off, but she doesn’t budge.
“Momo, I should go say sorry to her."
“Let her be until she cools down. How was my performance?"
“I-It was great, Momo. You got me there."
“Did it feel good?” She gives you a hug as her tits glue to your face. “Don’t pull out yet. Let’s rest for a bit."
“If it wasn’t good, then I wouldn’t have cum inside you two times while you were riding me."
“I’m glad you loved it. I did too.” She caresses your nape.
You both sit in silence, with you exploring her tits, kissing and nibbling them passionately as time goes by. She gives you more space, letting you check her body out.
“Can I feel your body for a bit more?"
“Of course.” She looks at you while you caress every part of her body. She happily smiles just seeing how gentle you can be without a wild time together. “Can we fuck gently and passionately next time?"
“We can. I want to see how passionate you can be, Momo."
“Is that how it went with Jihyo?” Momo gets off with more cum oozing out and sucks you off slowly with her tongue licking the underside of your cock.
“Yeah, we both had a good time. Can I go apologize to Nayeon now?"
“Yeah, sorry for making us get caught.” Momo kisses your cock. “Go to her; I’ll lick the tasty cum off myself."
“It’s okay, Momo. We had a good time either way.” You walk to Nayeon after dressing and knock on her door.
“Yes?” Nayeon said.
“I’m sorry for disturbing you, Nayeon."
“It’s okay, Oppa; I didn’t expect to see it right on the couch. Next time, just do it at your house if you can with Momo."
“I will, Nayeon. See you next time."
“Alright, see you."
You walk back to Momo as she puts on her clothes in her room. “I’ll head out now, Momo."
“I guess; see ya.” She walks you to the door, and you head back home. While you’re going home, Momo walks to Nayeon’s room with a small sample of your cum to give Nayeon a taste.
“Taste it; it’s good.”
Nayeon looks at Momo with disgust. “Um, fine.”
"Good, isn’t it?” Momo curiously asked. "I told you he’d be great at this. It was my idea in the first place.”
Due to a sudden illness, Jeongyeon’s body underwent a dramatic change—her weight skyrocketed, and her figure became unrecognizable. For an idol whose career depends on her appearance, this was a crushing blow.
Her once slender and graceful body became bloated and clumsy. The chubby woman staring back at her in the mirror felt like a complete stranger, filling Jeongyeon with shame and alienation. She avoided mirrors, refused to go out, and hid at home, wallowing in self-pity.
As a public figure, Jeongyeon dreaded fans discovering her transformation, terrified of their ridicule and rejection. Her agency worked tirelessly to conceal the issue, fearing it would tarnish the group’s image.
Under this dual pressure, Jeongyeon’s psyche began to warp. She became obsessed with perverse erotic novels, finding fleeting pleasure in their pages.
When night fell, Jeongyeon would sneak into public restrooms, locking herself in the innermost stall. Stripping off her clothes, she faced the grimy walls and began to masturbate.
Her mind was consumed by the wild plots of those stories: rape, domination, humiliation… The thought of these sent heat coursing through her body. She yearned to be ravaged, to be toyed with until her mind unraveled, like the heroines in her novels.
“Mmm… give me more… harder…” Jeongyeon moaned softly with her eyes closed, her fingers moving rapidly between her legs. She deliberately made louder noises, fantasizing about someone bursting in, stripping away her dignity and boundaries.
After what felt like an eternity, Jeongyeon reached climax. She collapsed to the floor, tears streaming down her face. This perverse pleasure left her feeling hollow and sorrowful, yet she was powerless to stop.
9:46 PM
While the other members of TWICE were preparing for their comeback, Jeongyeon was left alone in the dorm again. While watching erotic novels before going to bed, the power suddenly went out due to a faulty circuit breaker. With no other option, Jeongyeon called her manager for help. The manager and his assistant, who were out dining, promised to come over after hearing about the blackout.
The manager and assistant arrived soon and told Jeongyeon to wait while the assistant went to fetch tools and a new circuit breaker. As they waited, the manager struck up a conversation with Jeongyeon.
Soon, the assistant returned with the tools. In the dark dorm, the manager had Jeongyeon hold a flashlight while he worked on replacing the circuit breaker, with the assistant observing nearby.
At that moment, Jeongyeon noticed the manager and assistant staring at her with lecherous eyes. An inexplicable wave of desire surged within her, making it hard to control herself. Feeling overheated, she handed the flashlight to the assistant and stumbled into the bathroom in the dark. The manager continued working on the breaker, while the assistant smirked mischievously.
In the bathroom, Jeongyeon, overwhelmed by desire, even she had just masturbated crazy in a public toilet, clamped her thighs together, bent over the toilet lid, and supported herself with one hand while the other reached down, frantically rubbing her clitoris. She knew she shouldn’t be doing this, but her body’s intense reaction was uncontrollable.
“Why? Why this sudden, overwhelming lust? Why? I can’t take it anymore!” Jeongyeon thought as she pleasured herself, her hips facing the bathroom door. Suddenly, the lights came back on, and she felt a hand on her buttocks. Startled, she stopped but remained bent over, too nervous to look back.
The manager, caressing her round buttocks, said, “Jeongyeon, are you that lonely? Masturbating in the bathroom when there are men in the dorm? TWICE’s girls are so naughty.” The assistant, seeing Jeongyeon in such a compromising position, was stunned but quickly became aroused.
Blushing and too shy to turn around, but being horny at the same time, Jeongyeon whispered, “Oppa, you can’t do this… we’re colleagues.”
“Haha, it’s because we’re colleagues that we should help relieve your loneliness. We’re just being helpful!” the manager said shamelessly, reaching around to unhook her bra. Jeongyeon let out a reluctant “ah.”
The manager pulled down her pajama pants and underwear, leaving her in just her top, her pale, round buttocks fully exposed to the two men.
“So beautiful,” the manager muttered. Both men eagerly groped her soft, white buttocks, occasionally squeezing the flesh.
“Oppa, don’t… don’t bully me like this… it’s not right…” Jeongyeon squirmed slightly, as if trying to evade their hands, but to the two men, it seemed like she was enticing them further.
“Bro, her skin is so smooth, so soft. I wonder how it feels to fuck her,” the assistant said. Jeongyeon buried her face in the toilet lid, too ashamed to face them, but her position made it all too easy for them to molest her. The assistant slipped his hand under her top, roughly kneading her breasts, shaping them into various forms and tugging at her nipples. The manager knelt down, licking her vagina, which was already wet with arousal. His teasing made her labia glisten, her pink folds irresistibly tempting.
“Ah… mm… ah… you can’t… you can’t do this…” Jeongyeon moaned, her remaining shred of rationality making a final stand. The assistant, still groping her breasts, kissed her ears and lifted her shoulders to kiss her face. Jeongyeon’s face was flushed with desire, driving the assistant to kiss her neck, cheeks, and lips passionately. Jeongyeon, moaning, reciprocated, extending her tongue to meet his kisses.
The manager moved his tongue to the area between her anus and vagina, his fingers relentlessly stimulating her clitoris. He licked around her wet anus, probing it with his tongue.
“Ah… ah… don’t… don’t lick there…” Jeongyeon was incoherent, her mind already surrendering to the assault of the two men.
The manager, licking her anus, stood up and said, “, I’ll let you go first. I’ll play with her tits.” Feeling the absence of the manager’s tongue, Jeongyeon felt a strange sense of loss. The assistant dropped his pants, positioned himself behind her, and thrust his erect cock into her vagina.
“Ah… ah…” Jeongyeon felt a rush of fulfillment, accepting the assistant’s assault.
“So good, Jeongyeon. I’ve wanted to fuck you for so long but never had the chance. You’re always so glamorous on stage, I didn’t dare speak much. Turns out you’re such a slut, seducing us to rape you when the others aren’t around,” the assistant said as he thrust.
He watched his cock slide in and out of her vagina, stretching her opening wide, the visual stimulation intense. His cock glistened with her juices. Her pink vagina opened and closed with each thrust.
“Fuck… fuck my pussy… it feels so good… so big… I can’t take it… mm… ah… ah…” The manager sat on the toilet lid, Jeongyeon’s head resting between his legs. He lifted her face, urging her to suck him. With a trace of rationality left, Jeongyeon was overwhelmed by the sight of his cock. Under his coercion, she took half of it into her mouth. The manager enjoyed her blowjob, grabbing her breasts and teasing her nipples.
The assistant, holding her waist, began thrusting rapidly, continuing for about 20 minutes. Jeongyeon’s legs weakened, her body leaning heavily on the manager. His cock went deeper into her mouth, causing her to gag and choke from the intensity.
The assistant’s thighs slapped against her buttocks, reddening them with each impact. Choking on the manager’s cock and overwhelmed by the assistant’s thrusts, Jeongyeon struggled, but the assistant kept pounding her vagina. As he came, she collapsed to the floor, gasping for air.
The assistant, sweating from the exertion, felt exhilarated watching Jeongyeon collapse. The manager stood, lifted her, washed her face, and stripped off her remaining clothes, leaving her completely naked.
He sat her on the toilet lid, placed her legs on his shoulders, and thrust his thick cock into her vagina. The size caused her pain, and she grimaced, clutching his waist as he pounded her. He moved slowly, grinding against her, mixing her juices with the assistant’s semen, and rubbed her clitoris.
Jeongyeon moaned, “Ah… ah… it feels so good… Oppa, you’re fucking me so good…”
The manager said, “Hold her arms. I’ll show you something exciting.”
The assistant grabbed her arms, pulling them from the manager’s waist. The manager sped up, flipping her labia with each thrust. Jeongyeon, never having experienced such a large cock, screamed, “Ah… ah…” The assistant rapidly rubbed her clitoris, overwhelming her with pleasure.
“Ah… ah… Oppa, stop… you can’t fuck me like this… I’ll break… ah…” Jeongyeon trembled, unable to resist the two men. As the manager thrust and the assistant teased her clitoris, she suddenly urinated, spraying onto the manager. Shocked but thrilled, he realized he had reduced a beloved idol to such a state.
Jeongyeon arched her back, screaming, “Ah… ah… don’t…” before climaxing. Her body was covered in urine, sweat, and juices, experiencing unprecedented stimulation.
Exhausted, her arms hung limply as the manager continued fucking her vagina. The assistant placed his cock at her mouth, and she obediently opened it, letting him thrust inside.
In TWICE’s dorm, the manager and assistant took turns—one fucking her vagina, the other her mouth. The assistant deliberately thrust deeply, aroused by her submissive demeanor.
Five minutes later, the assistant shoved his cock fully into her mouth, causing her to struggle and gag, tears and snot streaming down her face. The manager kept pounding her vagina, pulling out and thrusting back in, making her body tremble. Seeing her pained yet aroused expression, the assistant came in her throat.
After cumming, the assistant felt no fatigue, still stroking her body. The manager continued raping her for another half hour before shooting his load deep inside her.
In over an hour, both men had cummed in her mouth and vagina. Exhausted, Jeongyeon sat limply on the toilet, semen dripping from her vagina, too ashamed to look at them.
The manager, crouching to admire her dripping vagina, said excitedly, “Good thing I was prepared and captured this moment.” A camera on the counter had recorded everything.
The assistant, playing with her vagina, said, “Jeongyeon, want more? We’ve helped you relieve your urges.”
Jeongyeon, head bowed, said nothing, her breasts heaving. The assistant’s fingers teased her vagina, slipping inside.
“…Mm…” Jeongyeon moaned instinctively.
The assistant kissed her, speeding up his fingers. Under his teasing, she moaned erotically again.
“…Ah… ah… no more, Oppa… I’m exhausted… ah… mm… ah…” After a few minutes, she climaxed again, urinating high into the air, to the manager’s delight.
3:30 AM
Jeongyeon lay on the bed’s edge, the manager holding her legs, thrusting steadily into her vagina. She was giving the assistant a blowjob, her head hanging off the bed, aligning her throat for deep penetration. The assistant’s cock went fully inside, his pubic hair covering her face, her throat bulging as she swallowed.
Her deep throating pleased the assistant. After a few seconds, he pulled out.
“Cough… cough…” Jeongyeon choked, grabbing his cock to stop him, saying seductively, “Oppa, you’ll kill me!”
The assistant chuckled, groping her breasts, saying, “How could I? I love you too much! Who else would we play with? Come on, keep going.” He thrust back into her mouth.
Jeongyeon obediently continued. After a night of relentless assault, the men’s rhythm was perfect. Soon, her body writhed, gripping the sheets, legs alternating between closing and spreading, toes curling, breathing heavily.
The men exchanged a knowing smile and sped up. Seconds later, Jeongyeon trembled violently, legs clamping around the manager’s waist, her body arching in a sensual curve.
After two minutes of climax, she relaxed. The men stepped back, their erect cocks twitching. Jeongyeon lay smiling, her limbs twitching slightly.
Ten minutes later, she slowly got up. The assistant hugged her from behind, asking, “How was it? Good?”
Leaning weakly against him, she brushed her hair aside and shyly said, “Damn Oppa… you’ll kill me eventually.”
The manager pinched her chin, saying, “Slut, we haven’t even cum yet. What now?”
Jeongyeon glanced at him, her voice dripping with seduction, “Then let this little slut serve you well!” She stood and kissed the manager passionately.
“Bro, mind if I go first?” the assistant asked.
“Go ahead. She almost sucked me dry earlier,” the manager replied. The assistant kissed Jeongyeon, thrusting into her vagina and pumping away.
Watching them, the manager hugged her from behind, saying, “I’ll take the back door, slut.”
“Mm… mmm…” Jeongyeon, lost in the kiss, mumbled in agreement. The manager spit on his hand, rubbed his softening cock, and pressed it against her anus, saying, “Here it comes,” before thrusting in.
“Mmm… mmm…” Jeongyeon moaned muffledly, her mouth occupied.
“So tight…” the manager gasped.
“Yeah, her front’s tight too. Still like a virgin after all this. She’s perfect!” the assistant said, pulling away from her mouth.
“Ah… Oppa… you bad guys… you’ve played with every part of me…” Jeongyeon panted, her voice intoxicatingly seductive.
“Idols are just different. So much better than regular sluts,” the manager said, groping her breast.
“Yeah… it’s like fucking a corpse with them…” the assistant said, thrusting hard.
“You… pervy Oppas…” Jeongyeon gasped.
Sandwiched between them, she moaned, “Oppa… faster… I’m coming… so good… you’re killing me… ah…” She trembled violently, climaxing again.
The men didn’t stop, continuing to fondle her breasts and body while fucking her vagina and anus in sync.
The wet sounds grew louder. Jeongyeon trembled again, clearly thrilled by the prolonged assault, cooperating fully.
After about 15 minutes, with Jeongyeon climaxing again, she hugged the assistant tightly, unable to make a sound, her hands gripping his back, knuckles white, feet arched, toes curled.
The men, reaching their limit, panted heavily, thrusting faster.
“Oh…” The manager roared, pressing against her buttocks, his scrotum contracting as he came in her anus.
“I’m cumming… ah…” The assistant hugged her tightly, thrusting deep, shooting his load into her vagina.
“You’re fucking me to death…” Jeongyeon screamed hysterically, her body tensing before going limp, fainting.
A simple SinB fic for SinB day, and today she's very needy.
Length 2.3K
SinB x Mreader
SinB sat at home, wondering what to do. She had nothing planned, and while she could go out, she didn't particularly want to. As she turned over in bed, she looked at her nightstand. On the little table were her toys, various dildos and vibrators, shamelessly sitting there. SinB debated using them, but there was little desire to do so. A toy was good and all, but right now SinB felt like it wouldn't be enough; she wanted the real thing.
The young woman huffed. She reached over and grabbed her phone. She flicked through pictures and opened apps, going through everything in her boredom. Then she saw something that caught her eye. It was a cock, a long and thick one. She wasn't shocked; on the internet, people got around to posting things they definitely shouldn't have, and they'd be banned for it. Still looking at it, it piqued her interest. Then she read the caption, which was asking for someone to fuck in their area. Better yet, it was close to SinB; she recognized the address. SinB made another account; she wouldn't be caught using her own to direct message someone. She took a deep breath and began typing out a message. She saw what she liked and wanted it. SinB might not have known what kind of girl you were into, but she figured with a cock like that, someone submissive might seem better. SinB could play any role, so it didn't matter that much. Once the message was sent, she took a deep breath. Hopefully, she would get a message back soon. In a blink-and-you'll-miss-it moment, she got an immediate response. She was a little shocked to hear back so quickly, but it was all for the better. She had an itch that needed scratching.
You and SinB chatted, exchanging quick pleasantries before getting down to business.
“So you’re looking to fuck?”
“Yeah, I really need a big fat cock right now.”
“I’m going to need to see a photo,” you text. SinB furrowed her brow; she didn’t exactly want to show her face.
“Is a body shot okay?”
“That’ll work, but I want it nude.”
“Fair enough,” she thought to herself. This was for the purposes of fucking, and they’d see each other later. SinB stood out of bed and walked over to the floor-length mirror. It was a good thing she was already naked—a small perk of sleeping in the nude. SinB gives a quick peace sign before snapping the picture. She looked it over quickly, making sure her face wasn’t visible and nothing of note was in the background. Once she was sure, she sent it over to you. “I’ll be wearing a mask during this. As much as I need you to fuck me up with your cock, I don’t need anyone to know what I’m doing.”
“Fine by me, but I’m going to need one more picture, from the back this time.” SinB rolled her eyes at the request. At this point, she thought she was in for a penny, in for a pound. She turned around and snapped a picture of her backside. The picture was sent, and then the two of you began discussing details. “Can I come over now?” She asked. The response was an immediate yes. Finally securing a fuckbuddy. SinB started to get dressed. The young woman didn’t bother to wear panties or a bra. They wouldn’t be of any use anyway.
Dressed, SinB went on her way to your home. She did have to make a quick return to grab a mask. In her haste, she had nearly forgotten to put one on. She was right, the place was nearby. The moment she stepped into your home, you commanded her to strip down. Considering you were already naked, she had no problem with it. The young woman’s eyes were glued to your stiff cock. You hadn’t lied about what you were packing, and for that, she was thankful. She was also thankful you happened to pop up on her feed. You lead the young woman to your bedroom and take a seat on the bed. “Crawl for me, let me see what I bagged.”
SinB was glad that what lay before her matched the pictures she had seen. She smiled behind her mask and dropped to her knees. She crawled toward you, keeping her back arched and hips swaying. She would be happy to service you. She wrapped her hand around your length, her thumb tracing one of your veins. She moved along your shaft, watching your cock intently. She was getting wetter just looking at it. A handjob wasn’t going to be enough. “Go on and suck it. I see that look in your eyes.”
SinB smirked. She knew she had a terrible poker face when it came to sex. SinB inched closer to you. She pulled the bottom of her mask and stuck her tongue out, the slick tip appearing to you, dripping saliva onto the tip of your cock. She moved lower, concealing your length as she wrapped her lips around it. It's like a disappearing act with the mask involved. Your cock disappearing into the young woman’s moist and warm mouth. You groan, enjoying the experienced mouth of your new fuck buddy. She moves along your shaft, reaching the base with a little effort. It turns you on the way she chokes on your cock, the small gags, and the teary eyes as she forces herself to stay near the base.
You remember her opening messages and take advantage of this opportunity. You place your hands on the sides of SinB’s head and start thrusting your hips, fucking her face with increasing pace. SinB relaxed her jaw, letting you do as you pleased. There was something about having a cock being rammed down her throat that turned her on. Her hand went between her legs, finding her sopping cunt. She rubbed her clit, going in small circles. SinB’s moans were muffled at times, but you could tell she was trying to speak. What she said didn’t matter because you both knew she wanted this. The young woman placed her hand on your thigh, gripping it tightly as she got closer to cumming. “You love being facefucked, don’t you, you little slut.”
“I love it. I love big fucking cocks,” SinB tried to say. It was all but impossible with your cock still ramming the back of her throat. Her eyes shot open for a brief moment as you held her to your crotch. Then they slowly fell, half-lidded as your thickcum poured down her throat. You pulled out a bit, letting the young woman enjoy the taste as it filled her mouth. You might not have been able to see it, but SinB’s cheeks were hollowed out as she sucked as hard as she could, wanting every last drop. Even once your orgasm has ended, SinB keeps sucking, bobbing her head a few more times before leaving it with a pop.
The young woman makes sure to adjust her mask, keeping it over the lower half of her face. Her eyes never leave your cock, though, even after cumming, you were still hard.“Fuck, you really know how to treat a guy’s cock right. Why don’t you climb on up and ride this thing?”
SinB climbs onto you. She squats above your cock, her hand wrapping around your slick shaft as she aligns her aching cunt with you. “I’ve needed this all day.”
“Then go on, ride this fucking dick like your life depends on it.” You bring your hand to SinB’s ass, making her suppress a moan. She giggles before lowering herself. The young woman cranes her neck, eyes shutting as she relishes the sensation of your cock stretching her entrance. The head was splitting her apart, and as she took more into her warm folds, SinB’s voice trickled out. This was just what she had been craving. She took your cock deep into her needy cunt, stretching it to its limits. SinB let out a loud groan. She was absolutely stuffed. You were pressing against her womb. The young woman pushed on her knees to lift herself. It was difficult, though; her walls were clamping onto your cock, refusing to let it go easily.
“C’mon slut, bounce on this dick,” you tell her, spanking her ass. SinB drops onto your cock one more time. The vice grip she has on you feels incredible, along with the warmth of her core. The pace she was moving at, though, left a lot to be desired. “I’ll do it myself,” you tell the young woman, grabbing onto her waist. You begin to bounce SinB on your cock, with a little force, you can easily slide her along your length, her slick walls still desperate for your cock. SinB grips your arms, moaning constantly. You watch her small tits bounce along with her, her soft flesh jiggling.
You begin to thrust into her, adding to the pleasure she feels. “Fuck, fuck,” SinB grunts. She places her hands on your chest, supporting herself as you drive yourself into her. “I-I can’t–cumming!” SinB cries out, her walls clamping down on your shaft. As SinB cums on your cock you slip your hands under her legs and around her back. You slowly rise to your feet, keeping yourself connected to the young woman. You walk over to the windows, pressing her against it as you ram your length into her womb. SinB cries out. She presses her hands against the glass; her feet are by her head as you fold her in half. The only support she has is your hands on her ass. She feels your nails digging into her flesh, and your rough thrusts bring her to the edge of another orgasm.
“Is this what you wanted?”
“Yes! Yes! It’s exactly what I wanted, what I needed.” SinB shouts, more moans spilling from her lips with every thrust, the sound filling the room along with the clapping of your bodies.
“Yeah, tell me all about it.”
“Toys can’t even compare to the real thing. A real fucking cock doesn’t stretch me out and fuck me until I can’t feel my legs.” SinB’s head rests against the glass, her core tightens as her orgasm approaches, and as much as she tries to hold it back, it becomes impossible.
“A toy can’t cum inside you either,” you remark, burying yourself inside her fertile cunt. SinB lets out a low groan as your cum is pumped into her body. You feel her walls flexing around your cock, dragging every drop of cum out of you. “Such a tight cunt, I bet you want more, don’t you?”
“Please, please, fill my slutty pussy with more cum,” She mumbles. You bring SinB over to the bed, turning her onto her stomach and raising her ass into the air. You bring your hand down on her ass once more; the few strikes you’ve given her already have her skin turning a bright red. “More,” SinB groans, shaking her ass for you. You smirk as the young woman asks for more punishment. You bring your hands down on her cheeks, watching her ass recoil. You deliver more strikes, alternating which cheek gets hit. SinB keeps her face to the mattress and ass raised high, each hit had her biting her bottom lip, pleasure building from each stinging hit.
She took a deep breath when the spanking finally ended. Then she cried out as you pierce her with your length. You hold onto her waist with one hand as the other grabs her hair. You pull her head back as you drive your cock back into her. SinB has drool dripping from the corners of her mouth, soaking her mask as you drive her crazy. Each thrust makes her lurch forward. When you pull her back, you match it with a thrust, making sure each time you ram into her womb.
“Oh, fuck, fuck,” SinB mumbles, her body tingling all over. She could only focus on the sensation of your slick cock sliding in and out of her, pushing your cum out of her cunt to make room for more. As your cock began to throb, SinB tried pushing her ass back against you. She had little strength, though at the moment, she was nothing more than a toy for you to use, and she had no problem with that. The itch that had been bothering her was finally gone, and on top of that, she found someone who could be a great fuck buddy. The moment you buried yourself inside her, SinB reached another peak, her vision blurring as you came inside her again. Your searing cum poured into her womb again. If she wasn’t on the pill, she was certain you would get her pregnant with the amount you were pumping into her. Even with your cock inside her, it began to flow out of her abused cunt. Her pussy is left gaping as you pull out and spurt the last of your cum onto her back. SinB lets out a shuddered sigh. She felt content. You take a seat beside SinB, looking at your work.
After some time, SinB regains enough energy. “That was amazing.”
“Yeah, now why don’t you take a little walk of shame, go back home with my cum on your back?”
“Okay,” SinB said with a giggle. SinB slowly got up, her legs wobbly as she dressed herself. The amount of cum you poured into her left the crotch of her pants wet, and her backless shirt made it quite obvious what she had done. “How about I come back in a couple of days?”
“Deal.” With that, your little tryst with SinB was over. She walked out and began the walk back to her home, hair sticking to her forehead, and large splotches of cum on her back. She would consider today a success. She didn’t even care if people noticed her right now.
A star rewritten, two hearts fated, three days painting a thousand nights across one unbroken sky.
word count: ~8.3k
Characters: Male Reader (OC: Minho) x ITZY Hwang Yeji
Intro | Masterlist | Series Index | Read on Fanprose
Previous Chapter
[YEJI'S POV]
The stars shone bright, but they didn't sparkle.
Which was fucking annoying, because she'd just used them as her exit strategy.
Minutes ago, she'd waved her phone at the massive bonfire circle, claiming she needed pristine starlight shots to make up for her Bubble radio silence.
Every MIDZY knew she was the group's relentless photo spammer on Bubble, but she hadn't posted a single thing since they landed in Jeju. Her camera roll was basically useless right now. The golden hour sunset photos from two days ago were gorgeous, except Minho had taken them, and her face in every shot was a fucking liability.
So the Bubble update was a pretty bulletproof excuse. Nobody questioned content creation.
They'd pushed Minho to sing, then shoved her until she joined him, and the moment his voice slid effortlessly with hers, her chest dragged tight. It sounded too good, too right. She couldn't even finish the song before the panic hit her throat.
I want this. I just want to sit in the fucking sand and sing dumb songs with him for the rest of my life.
That drove her straight out of the firelight. Since when did she want anything but winning that badly?
The sky out here was nice and clear, even if the bonfire smoke kept drifting in ugly grey patches across the beach, and her phone camera had a night mode that was supposed to make this look professional. She just needed ONE clean shot to prove her alibi before Yuna started posing with Winter's failed s'mores, or Ryujin heaved an entire log into the flames just to make a spark explosion. She'd been on dangerous levels of watch this energy all night because Yunjin kept laughing.
Standing near the edge of the basalt drop, Yeji locked her shoulders back and kept her chin high. Her default response to panic - well, to everything, really - was to just brace like she was waiting for a spotlight. The Pacific beat itself white against the lava blocks below. The racer back crop top had been more than fine near the fire, but out here, the wind slid under the hem and spiked goosebumps along her ribs. She ignored the cold, tilting her head awkwardly backward to shove the phone high into the dark, and tapped the moon icon on the screen.
The first photo came out blurry.
"Ah, jinjja," she muttered. Seriously?
She wiped the lens against the cleanest part of her crop top and tried again. The second shot caught a smear of orange from the bonfire, and the third turned the stars into little white scratches like dust on a mirror. On the next try, the wind shoved her hair across her face right as the shutter opened.
Fucking amateur.
Hwang Yeji didn't do amateur. Hwang Yeji trained mistakes out of her body before debut.
Shoving the loose hair behind her ear, her fingers brushed the collar of the crop top. Her hand stopped there against her neck, pressing flat over the tender, swollen mark Minho had sucked into the side of her throat that morning.
They’d ended up on the living room couch under the duvet after absolutely demolishing their bedroom last night. Waking up in the morning light, she'd simply pulled her panties aside, guided him back inside her, too tired for a real round but needing him stretching her out. He’d slid in slow, steadying her hips with one hand while his thumb held firm against her clit to keep her quiet. Every time she rolled her hips, she had to bite his arm and let him suck her throat muffle-tight so she wouldn't make a sound as he filled her up deep, taking the greedy, shameless thrill of his hot load inside her while her members made matcha steps away.
They’d been dead quiet. He'd kept her locked down under the blanket, so they’d gotten away with it. Sure, Ryujin had aggressively slammed the fridge door twice, Lia had kicked the leg of the couch on her way to the sink, Chaeryeong had dropped three whole strawberries into the matcha, and Yuna had walked in, seen the couch, walked right back out, then returned with a much louder "Good morning!" before asking, "Unnie, are you cold?" while staring directly at the duvet until Yeji nearly bit through Minho's arm, but nobody had said a word. They DEFINITELY hadn't suspected a thing.
Focus.
She lowered the phone, annoyed with herself, then raised it again.
Was it ever just the sex?
She waited for the usual shrug to settle into her shoulders, but her skin stayed cold. The phone pulsed in and out of focus, searching and searching stars it couldn't understand, and for a split second the black screen reflected her own face back at her. Wind-raw cheeks and hair in her mouth.
She turned the screen away.
Just take the fucking picture, Hwang Yeji.
The camera struggled to find light. The screen dissolved into noisy gray static, just like that memory from Practice Room B, five years ago.
Cold linoleum pressed against her cheek. The rough edges of the crumpled vocal evaluation sheet bit into her fist. The red D on the paper glared back at her until her head spun.
When Minho had shoved the door open looking for an empty mirror to drill choreo, she hated him for catching her. Except he'd skipped the bullshit trainee platitudes, dropping his bag to sit close enough for their shoulders to touch, and rested his warm hand on the back of her neck to steady her.
She'd sobbed into his shoulder and whispered for him to stay, and minutes later they were fucking on the scuffed floor as she begged him to keep the mess inside so she wouldn't get it on her clothes.
From that night on, it became the fix. Every time the schedule choked her out, every time the pressure made her head hurt, she dragged him into locked vocal booths, empty dorms, and after he quit, his modest apartment in Seongnae-dong, minutes away from the JYP building. Obviously, she loved the sex. It didn't help that he had a stupidly good cock and knew exactly how to pound her pussy until her head shut up.
She also taught him to stop counting steps, because he'd taught her how to stay.
Just sex. Right.
The phone slipped a little in her freezing fingers. Down the beach, Yuna's loud laugh rattled through a high-pitched scream. She should probably go back before someone set a sleeve on fire on the beach.
She held her ground on the rock.
She dragged her thumb down to kill the exposure, forcing the digital sky pitch black until the stars sharpened into clean white points.
The second the stage lights died at her debut showcase, her eyes swept the aisle seats in rows six and seven. She caught nothing but a bulky staff camera and someone's eomma waving a lightstick.
Not him.
Fine. He'd quit. People quit. She didn't.
After that, there'd been more seats to search. Nine days after debut, they broke the industry record for the fastest girl group win. The M Countdown trophy hit her hands, her fingers shaking so badly she almost dropped the acrylic while floor directors shoved them toward their encore marks. DALLA DALLA kept winning. ICY kept winning. By winter, rookie awards had piled up until managers were telling her to switch arms before broadcasts caught her trembling under the bouquets and gold edges.
And every single time the confetti cannons fired, her chin snapped up. Scanning the VIP pits. The sponsor tables. The camera risers. The suffocating crush of staff clogging the wings.
Not him.
Then WANNABE blew up so hard everybody knew the shoulder move. Their practice room mirrors fogged from sweat, Ryujin's shoulders became everyone's business, and Yeji kept smiling through encore stages with tape biting under her costume because being the top girl group of their generation meant they didn't get to look tired. LOCO took them higher. Billboard screenshots appeared in the group chat at insane hours, while hotel curtains opened in foreign cities she only saw through van windows and stage entrances.
She looked there, too. Raking the balcony tiers. Hunting through the catwalks. Squinting past the lighting desks. Staring dead into the absolute black drop past the pyrotechnics.
Not him.
And the bigger the numbers got, the faster the public took their cut, until less and less of her actually belonged to her. CHECKMATE made them million-sellers while everyone argued about SNEAKERS. CHESHIRE sold anyway, but they never performed it after the initial promotions because it'd taken a toll on their vocal cords. CAKE sold anyway, but the comment sections still chewed through them, and when Lia finally stepped back, Yeji read the statement once, blamed herself by the second line, and drove her heels into the next rehearsal floor until the junior staff stopped talking. When the label screamed or the internet turned, she'd gone numb and fixed it. Sang harder. Danced harder.
The world kept handing her proof that she'd made it, but her eyes kept checking the room anyway.
Not him.
Her thumb dragged too far across the screen, and KakaoTalk opened instead of the camera roll.
Of course it did.
His name sat at the top of the list because she'd sent him a photo of Chaeryeong's terrible grilled abalone earlier, which was normal. Sharing evidence of food crimes was normal. Keeping the thread open for no reason was also normal if nobody asked.
Having him pinned was normal too. She had needs. He always answered.
A week ago, in the dorm, she'd lain on her bed with her phone face down on her stomach and typed
Yeji: come to Jeju with me 🖤
before her ears burned up and she deleted it so fast her nails slipped on the glass. The black heart had been hers for so long that MIDZY treated it like official branding, which was annoying because Minho had picked it first, years ago when she'd refused to use red hearts because they looked needy. After one practice where she'd terrorized Lia for blaming a missed count on a slippery floor, he'd texted
Minho: scary girl 🖤
like that was a compliment. When she'd demanded to know why black, he'd said,
Minho: because it's your favorite color
Which, unfortunately, was true.
How the fuck did he know that, anyway?
Then he'd added that red looked too harmless for a girl who smiled like she was about to win a knife fight.
She'd told him to shut up.
Then she'd used it once. Fans loved it. The company noticed. The stupid thing became hers.
Which meant she could send it to millions of strangers after a selfie, but not to him. Not when he knew exactly where it came from. Also, who the fuck sends hearts to their fuck buddy? Too much. Weird. Unnecessary. They weren't that.
She'd tried again the day before they went.
Yeji: I'm going to Jeju with the girls tomorrow.
Yeji: Five days.
Minho: oh
Minho: that's a long time
Yeji: We haven't fucked in three weeks.
Minho: yeah
Minho: i know
Minho: do you want me there?
Yeji: Bring sunscreen.
Minho: ok
Minho: what flight should i take?
Yeji: Figure it out.
Yeji: There's a 21:40 from Gimpo after you get off work.
Yeji: I'll ask manager-nim to pick you up.
Yeji: Aewol Beach Resort. We're renting a villa.
She let her hand drop to the mattress, ready to lock the screen and be done with it. Except not even a second later, she pulled the phone back up.
Yeji: Text me when you land, ok?
She tossed the device face down on the sheets and rolled onto her side, pressing the back of her hand against her mouth until her jaw stopped aching. He'd taken the demand at face value, accepting five days in Jeju alongside her members - even though he'd never met them properly since the Busan calamity - as a given and jumping straight to flight logistics, leaving her alone with a stomach churning so hard she thought she might puke.
The next evening, after his shift, he got on a plane anyway, still wearing his blue dress shirt.
He showed up with a single backpack and tired eyes, and the new bottle of sunscreen was shoved right into a side mesh pocket so she could see the label. He never actually used it, though. Yesterday, Yuna had snatched the bottle first and rubbed it all over Yeji's shoulders on the beach with both hands, frantic enough to leave white streaks along her collarbone.
Yah, that was weird.
She stared at the old Kakao messages until the screen drifted into gray, and the moment her reflection rose over his name, she clicked the lock button and turned her thumb back to the camera app. She only needed one clean photo. One aesthetic shot to prove her fake Bubble alibi, so she could walk back to the fire and pretend everything was fine.
She lifted the phone and held her breath during the three-second countdown of the lens shutter.
Fuck, still blurry.
Her hands had jumped before the first sound of footsteps even hit the basalt path behind her.
She stared out at the ocean, though her rigid shoulders finally dropped. She slid the phone into her back pocket and stepped straight to the edge of the black columns. The stars burned bright and stubborn over the Pacific. Still unsparkling. Still useless.
***
[MINHO'S POV]
The bonfire had burned down to a low orange flicker on the beach behind me, leaving the wind to drag the last sounds of laughter away until the ocean swallowed the rest of the night.
Yeji had slipped away from the fire a while ago. Ryujin had noticed first, of course. She'd eventually caught my eye across the sand, giving me a look that casually promised murder before jerking her chin out toward the dark.
I found Yeji standing near the edge of the black lava columns in just that thin crop top, her shoulders tight against the cold as the coastal wind whipped across her bare arms. The basalt dropped away in broken steps beneath her sneakers, tidewater flashing white between the cracks below. A fall from this height would break bones. I kept my eyes off the freezing tide sliding into the black pockets to keep my balance steady.
I stopped a step behind her and dropped my hoodie over her shoulders to cut the chill. Without turning to check who it was, she smoothly slid her arms backward into the sleeves while I guided the heavy fabric down. She braided her arms across her middle and stared down the sharp drop beyond her sneakers, looking tiny against the Pacific now that she was swallowed by the oversized fleece. Her hair blew loose across her cheek under the Jeju stars.
We just stood there while the wind and the tide crashed below us, until her breathing finally slowed down.
"You're hovering," she murmured, barely loud enough to clear the surf. She threw a familiar dry glare at the Pacific under her feet.
"I'm making sure you don't fall off a cliff."
She stared straight out at the drop. "You wouldn't even see me hit. The ocean is pitch black, idiot."
"Wasn't looking at the water."
She let out a short breath that caught somewhere near a laugh, dropping her chin into the collar of the hoodie. "That was terrible."
"Worked, though."
Her cheek shifted. She was hiding a smile.
The way she stood now, with her chin tucked, arms crossed tight, dragged me back to all the post-evaluation nights in the mirror-lined JYP studio. Years ago, sure. But Yeji never stood still without a fight.
I stepped up right beside her on the uneven rock. The starlight caught a silver edge along her damp lashes.
"You okay?" I asked quietly.
Her shoulders dropped. "No." She turned her attention back to the black water. "But I want to be."
That worked for me.
I dropped my hand, letting my knuckles rest lightly against the back of hers to press my warm skin over her freezing joints. It was small enough for her to brush off as an accident. Her fingers twitched against mine. I braced for her to pull away, but instead, her hand turned under mine. Her palm opened upward, and our fingers slid together, catching perfectly like we'd been doing this for years instead of just since the day before on the beach.
That grip dragged me straight back to the basement studios from our first summer. Dead AC, squeaking sneakers on scuffed laminate, and Yeji hating early partner drills with her whole face. She despised holding hands with anyone. She claimed it ruined her timing, snapping at me that my hold was too loose, then too tight, then just generally annoying. But before long, she could grab my hand blind on cue while staring dead ahead into the mirror.
She squeezed my fingers once.
I dragged my thumb slowly over the sharp ridge of her knuckle in response.
"Remember the blue room?" I asked her.
Her eyes stayed anchored on the violent surf, but the tense line of her mouth softened up. "The one with the blown-out speaker?"
"And the aircon making that awful dying sound in the corner."
"You swore it was humming in B-flat."
"It definitely was."
"It was a C, you deaf bastard."
"It was B-flat," I said. "You were just mad I could hear it."
She let out a small scoffing breath, shaking her head. "You were miserable in there."
"You kept bitching at me to fix the speaker."
"You were the only one tall enough to reach the plug!"
"Being tall didn't make me your personal fucking handyman, Yeji."
"You tried anyway."
"I was trying to impress you so you'd stop yelling at me."
She finally looked at me, her sharp jaw cutting across the sky.
"You were?"
The stiff line of her mouth just vanished. "You were scary. Of course I was trying to impress you."
"I was focused," she argued, squaring her shoulders. "Not scary."
"You made that poor trainee cry because she missed the pre-chorus."
"She missed it six fucking times in a row, Minho."
"Scary."
"She needed the timing!"
"See?"
She laughed brightly, the sound whipping away into the wind.
The laugh faded into the rush of the ocean below us. Yeji looked back up at the sky, phone forgotten in her pocket, my hoodie hanging off one shoulder where the wind kept attacking it.
"You were supposed to be there," she said.
For one dumb second, my brain stayed in the blue room.
"In the studio?"
"No." Her fingers tightened around mine. "After. All of it. Debut showcase, first music show win, rookie awards, first tour. Rows six and seven at showcase. Back wall during music shows. Camera pits. The wings at award shows. Hotels. Airports. All the places you had no reason to be."
The surf hit the black rock below us hard enough to spray cold mist through the cracks. She watched the water fall back into the dark and kept her jaw locked.
"I looked for you every time," she said. "So pathetic, right? I would finish a stage, smile at the camera, bow to the staff, do all the shit I was supposed to do, and then my eyes would go searching before I could stop myself. Not him. Not him. Not him."
I couldn't move even if I'd wanted to. She had her hand locked around mine so hard my knuckles had gone pale.
"Yeji -"
"Don't." She lifted our joined hands ever so slightly, and the apology my mouth had started reaching for died right there. "If you say sorry, then I have to say it wasn't your fault. And it wasn't. So then where does it go?"
I looked down at our hands and had no answer worth giving her.
"I don't know," I said.
"Exactly." She swallowed and turned her face back to the sky. "You didn't do anything wrong. I didn't do anything wrong. You left before it killed you. I stayed because you sat on that floor with me until I could. Then I debuted, and everyone kept telling me I won."
Her thumb dragged once across my knuckle, then stopped.
"I did win," she continued. "I worked for it. My members earned it. I know that. But you were there first, before people said I was the leader, before stages, before anyone called me 'JYP's secret weapon' or whatever and meant it in public. You saw me on the floor with a D grade and talked to me like the paper was unqualified. Not me."
The old practice room came back too fast: scuffed linoleum, fluorescent glare, the red letter crushed in her fist, her shoulders shaking under my palm.
"You were never unqualified," I stated simply.
"I know that now." She wiped under one eye with the sleeve of my hoodie, hard enough to leave the skin flushed. "I didn't know it then. I thought every mistake was proof. Then you came in and acted like failing one evaluation was the dumbest reason in the world to quit, and I hated how easy you made it sound. I wanted to shove every win in your face after that - turn around and go, look. See? You were right. I did it. I fucking did it."
"You did," I said. "But don't give me too much credit. I said one true thing on a shitty floor. You built the rest."
"But you weren't there."
"No -"
"And I hated you for it," she talked over me, still looking away. "Then I missed you, and I hated that more. Then I fucked you again and told myself that solved the problem because sex has rules. You come over. Or I come over. We fuck. You leave. Easy."
She finally turned her head toward me.
"It was never easy. Obviously. Keep up."
That almost broke a laugh out of me. I held it in because she was still standing open in front of me, and I wasn't going to make her close back up just because the truth scared me.
She looked back at the sky, her grip on my hand loosening slightly.
"You know, I used to go to the JYP roof after you quit," she said softly, almost wistfully. "Above the old practice building, before we moved to the new one. Remember the door by the vending machines? The lock was broken for months. The machine made the whole stairwell blue, and I would sit by the rail after practice staring up until my neck hurt. I couldn't even see stars through the Seoul smog most nights, but just looking up at how massive and empty the sky was... it helped. It made whatever mistake I made in rehearsal feel incredibly small."
The wind pushed her dark hair across her face.
"Lia wasn't lying the other day," she murmured. "Zero light pollution. I always wanted to see what it looked like with you."
"You never told me about the roof," I said quietly.
She slowly lowered her chin to look at me, her dark eyes staring into mine. "You weren't there to tell."
Yeah, I'd earned that one.
"I - I didn't leave you," I mumbled.
She hooked her fingers into the front of my hoodie and pulled it tighter across her chest.
"I left JYP," I said. "The company. The trainee lists. The rooms with no windows. Trainers counting mistakes like they were collecting proof we didn't belong there. By the end, I hated dance. Music too. Mirrors. My own face in practice footage. I couldn't stay in it anymore."
"I know." She pressed the hoodie sleeve under her eye again, slower this time. "I knew then. You had that look. One more trainer said your name and you were going straight through the studio glass. I knew why you left."
She folded both hands around mine, trapping my fingers between her palms.
"It still felt the same."
I closed my other hand over hers.
"I think about it too," I said.
Her shoulders hitched once under the hoodie.
"The what-ifs?"
"Yeah. Bad dorm coffee. You yelling at me in stage makeup. Me pretending I wasn't staring at you in every practice clip." I watched her mouth tremble, then steady. "I thought about you on stage before you even debuted. After I quit, I couldn't listen to music for a while without feeling sick. Then your DALLA DALLA teaser dropped, and I watched it at two in the morning on my laptop with the volume low so my roommate wouldn't wake up."
She stared at me.
"Of course I watched," I said before she could ask. "I watched everything. At first because I missed you. Then because you were impossible not to watch. Then because it was easier to call it supporting an old friend than admit I was waiting for thirty seconds of fancam like a loser with a schedule."
Her mouth pulled sideways through the tears. "You never said."
"Neither did you."
"I was busy becoming famous."
"Yeah," I said, dragging my thumb over her knuckles until her grip loosened enough for blood to come back into my fingers. "You were."
She let the joke die there. For a while, there was only the ocean.
"Sometimes I pictured you in the company van," she said. "Sleeping with your mouth open, neck bent all wrong, complaining about my hairspray, stealing my heat pack. I pictured you backstage too. At awards, music shows - I pictured you beside me so many times that when it wasn't real, it pissed me off."
Below us, the waves kept time against the black rock, like it was counting down a future that had already passed.
"Do you think it would've been better?" she asked after a while.
I looked past her shoulder at the bonfire, far enough away now to be a small orange blur against the beach.
"No," I said.
Her brows drew together.
"I wanted it," I said, before she could argue. "I still want it. I... I see those backstage clips and it makes me sick how much I want to be the guy stealing your shrimp chips in the van. Or holding your jacket. Just the stupid, boring shit, you know? But if I hadn't quit, I would've dragged you down. You would've made it your project to fix my head, and I would've hated you for handling everything better than me. We would've wrecked each other."
She pulled one hand free and held it against her cheek.
"You don't know that."
I shifted closer, turning my shoulder into the wind to block a little of it from hitting her face. "I know what I was like when I left. Jealous of everyone still standing in those rooms. Even you. Especially you. You could take the hit and come back meaner. I took the hit and started flinching before anyone raised a hand."
"You were eighteen," she said.
"So were you."
"I was insane."
"Yeah." I squeezed her hand before she could turn that into a joke. "You were insane. Brilliant. You scared the shit out of me."
Her eyes stayed on mine.
"You already said that."
"I know."
She looked back up at the stars. The fight slowly went out of her shoulders.
"I don't want to keep checking rooms," she said. "I don't want to... every time we go somewhere new, I hate that my first instinct is still to look up. I get mad at myself every single time, because obviously you aren't going to be sitting in the third row of some random stadium, but I look anyway. And then I get pissed off that you aren't there."
She turned her face toward me again. The tears were drying cold against her cheeks, and this time, she let them stay.
"I want to be here," she murmured. "And know you're here."
Five years gone. The life we didn't get, gone too. But her hand was warm in mine, and the rock under us was solid.
I lifted our joined hands higher, near her neck, and used a slow pull to turn her around until she faced me.
Her eyes dropped to our hands. "Here?"
"Here."
"On a pile of cursed lava blocks."
"I've seen you dance on worse."
"It's a cliff edge, Minho."
"Scared?"
Her gaze snapped back up to my face, her dark eyes narrowing under the starlight.
"I'm going to make you look like an idiot," she warned.
"You always do."
She stepped in first, finding a flat face of basalt under one sneaker while my body slid right into place. My free hand swung up to catch her narrow waist. Hers found my shoulder, resting lightly at first before pressing down the second my stance locked. We stayed still chest to chest under the stars for one long breath. Her fingers tightened hard into my shoulder, pressing right over my pulse.
I took a step forward, but her muscles were already locked down hard to drive the motion on a strict downbeat.
The most powerful hip hop dancer in Seoul didn't know how to yield a count.
So I held my ground, keeping my hand steady against her waist while I waited. She stayed rigid against my hold, her breath trapped in her throat while her body fought the violent instinct to take the choreography over. Then her shoulders dropped. Her ribs softened under my hand.
That was when I knew I wasn't holding idol Yeji anymore.
She exhaled hard, let herself settle into my grasp, and allowed me to pull her into the next step.
Her eyes flicked up to my face.
"Better," I told her.
"Keep your fucking dance critiques to yourself," she muttered, though she stayed still against my chest.
"I just praised your adjustment."
"You corrected my texture."
"Your texture corrected itself."
"Still annoying."
Her fingers were tapping a silent, desperate count against the back of my shoulder.
"You're in your head, Yeji," I shot back. "After you spent months fucking that exact habit out of me so I'd learn to feel the beat and stop counting."
Her mouth fell open in the dark because I had her pinned.
I grinned down at her.
She rolled her eyes hard, but the tapping stopped.
I yielded the lead, letting my hand drag loose across her waist while our joined fingers cut a slow arc through the freezing night air. The stars smeared white across my vision as she pulled me through the turn, the whole sky tilting over her shoulder for one dizzying swing before the black Pacific snapped back behind her.
She took the space instantly, pushing off my palm to spin outward into the cold wind with her back snapping straight. The oversized hoodie flared open against the black backdrop of the Pacific, leaving her suspended on one leg with her dominant arm stretched back taut into my grip.
I yanked my arm hard and dragged her back toward the jagged rock.
She refused to soften the catch, hitting my chest on the count with a breathless gasp and giving me every bit of the step.
I crossed my arms instantly over her waist, locking her bare hands secure against her stomach before we could tumble backward toward the drop.
***
The first time we'd practiced lifts, she'd kept landing wrong on a swollen ankle she swore was fine, throwing herself backward exactly like this and banking on my arms snapping shut before she hit the floor. I'd locked my grip around her then, staring at her exhausted reflection in the studio mirror.
By the time they put cameras in her face, she'd already mastered hiding it without the mirrors.
She was eighteen when they put her on The Fan, two months shy of her debut and three since I'd quit, watching exactly 197 votes flash on the board - which meant three people didn't, shoving her straight onto the chopping block. Three weeks later, her back seized up so bad during rehearsal she had to go to the hospital. Straight out of the ER, she shot "New Rules" and danced like her spine wasn't locked down tight. The tears didn't drop until 224 flashed on the screen to say she survived, and even then, she smiled right through them to thank the whole country for forgiving her mistakes. I watched that broadcast and realized the girl who used to curse at her own swollen ankles in the JYPE building was gone. She'd figured out the job.
Hurt on your own time. Win first.
***
She nudged her head back against my shoulder in the dark, breathing slowly against my collarbone until she started to sing.
"Thinkin' about ya, my hand in a fist," she sang softly, her fingers tightening around mine on the last word.
I locked my grip tight around her waist. From every track in an industry built to say 'don't need you,' she sang the one that begged to be held. The low, warm catch of her voice hit my throat before she even pushed the words into the cold air. I knew exactly where that breath started. I'd spent hours in a sealed practice room trying to teach her how to drop air deep into her lungs when she was eighteen, blown out, and ready to quit. I taught her how to pull that breath, and then walked away before I got to hear what she did with it.
"A night I suffered alone."
She sang the next line right into my shirt, leaving me nowhere to put my hands except tighter around her back. I'd heard that track blaring out of arena speakers for years, but none of it sounded like this.
I rotated her inside my arms to face me under the moonlight. Her voice bent when our chests slammed together, then steadied as my hand slid down her waist to brace her lower back.
"You are here," she hummed softly.
"Here by my side," I came in under her, rough and late.
She twitched her mouth into a smile before dragging in air for the next line. Of course she heard me.
"Hold me tight, hold me tight."
I pressed my palm harder into her back. "You know I'm holding up when I see you."
She steadied herself against my shoulder as we tracked every step over the uneven basalt, shoes catching on slick edges where the columns broke toward the water. Her knee brushed against mine, pulled away, and brushed back again.
I backed us blindly toward the drop, watching a spray of loose gravel slip under my heel. Her eyes flicked from my face to the sheer edge. The old Yeji would have slammed her feet wider and taken over the step to keep us safe.
She let herself fall toward me instead.
"You and I, we ain't falling," she sang, stepping back and giving our joined hands a sharp downward pull.
"We'll go through it together," I replied.
She followed the cue instantly. Hip hop dancers fall into freezes by controlling their own descent and their own timing, but tonight, she broke that rule. Her spine went completely slack across my forearm to hand me the count. One hand locked tight in mine, and the other fell loose until her fingertips grazed the air above the dark water.
"Talkin' about ya, talkin' about us."
I dug my palm harder into her spine, sinking into my stance as she arched violently backward over my forearm. The oversized hoodie slid off one bare shoulder, leaving her suspended in a breathless backbend. Her throat bared to the cold wind, the rigid line of her flat stomach snapping tight the second she stopped trying to catch herself.
"You and I got the same feeling," I sang back.
She hitched a breathless laugh into the cold air, hanging reckless in my arms.
I shoved my sneakers down into the ground, locking my arm tighter around her back. The coastal wind tore at her dangling hair, dragging the loose neck of the hoodie down far enough to expose the athletic line of her collarbone.
She looked up at me from her lopsided pose in the dark, flashing the same fierce trust from those late-night practice rooms before her debut.
I dragged her back up, pulling her slowly with everything I had.
She rose in a smooth arc with her hair swinging forward, breaking on the tiniest laugh when her face snapped level with mine before grabbing hard onto the back of my neck.
I caught her bare jaw on pure reflex, my thumb sliding under the sharp ridge of her cheekbone.
"Hold me, you're doing well," she breathed.
"Hold me, please trust me," I answered against her mouth.
She gasped out a startled laugh that cracked the silence as my lungs emptied out.
I locked both hands around her waist, dug my heels in, and hoisted her clear off the stone, leaving her suspended over the edge of the Pacific while I stared up at her with the freezing surf roaring against the jagged rock somewhere way down in the dark.
She scrambled for my shoulders for a split second, but the moment she looked down into the black drop, a shaky breath broke out of her and she completely unspooled. Every rigid muscle went slack against my palms as she let go, pulling her hands away to spread her arms wide into the coastal wind instead of bracing for a fall. Her spine arched in a reckless curve over the ocean, leaving my hands the only thing keeping her from the drop.
I pushed my thumbs deep into her waist, holding her through the wind until her shaking ribs settled under my grip.
She pulled her chin back down, looking at me through the loose hair whipping across her face as she pushed the final outro into the night.
"We ain't falling like a domino."
I lowered her slowly, letting her slide down the length of my chest until the soles of her shoes hit the rock.
She stayed pressed against me, burying her face into my shoulder while the last notes hummed against my bare neck.
"Like a domino, domino."
I wrapped her up in the dark, hands gripping fistfuls of her oversized hoodie while her lungs fought for air against my chest.
"You knew the lower harmony," she mumbled into my shoulder, her voice still rough from the cold. "You caught the bridge exactly on the downbeat."
"I have good rhythm."
Her grip tightened in my shirt. "That's a tour-only B-side, Minho. And it came out three years after you quit."
"The Hulu Theater," I said quietly, pressing my palm flat against her lower back. "Madison Square Garden. November 2022. I had a work trip, remember? Took the red-eye out of L.A. and stood in the very back row."
PHOTO CREDITS: yours truly (November 13, 2022, Madison Square Garden, back row)
She went completely still against me, the brutal realization of that flight and that ticket clicking into place.
"You were in New York," she whispered.
"Always there somehow," I said, sliding my hand around the back of her neck and tangling my warm fingers into her freezing hair. "I never miss a stage."
Yeji sucked in a sharp gasp against my shoulder.
Then the world dragged us back. A massive wave shattered below, and someone, probably Yunjin, yelled from far down the beach by the bonfire. Yuna shouted something equally loud in response, followed by Chaeryeong screaming and Karina's boisterous laughter tearing up the beach.
Then Yeji exhaled a long, shuddering breath into my collarbone.
"My ass is going numb," she groaned.
A sharp, wrecked laugh tore out of my throat before I could stop myself. Yeji's shoulders started shaking against my chest, her forehead digging into my muscle as she failed to swallow down her own ridiculous giggling. We were standing on the edge of a deadly cliff drop, laughing pointlessly into each other's necks like idiots in the dark.
"So romantic," I choked out.
"It really is. Lava rock is terrible."
"I'll bring a blanket next time."
Next time.
She went quiet, and my laugh died before it could finish.
She pulled her face up from my shoulder. Tears caught the starlight in her eyes and made her look startlingly young.
"Yeah," she finally whispered, her fingers tightening at my shirt. "Next time."
I dragged my thumb under her eye and swiped the moisture away before it could slip down her cheek, letting her lean deeper into my hand.
"You weren't scared," I said quietly. "When I had you hanging over the ocean."
"Of course I was scared," she muttered.
"Didn't feel like it."
Her grip tightened at the back of my shirt. "Because you don't drop me."
The whole song-and-dance still burned through my muscles, from the heat to the tight grip to the last murmur of her singing against my skin, folding all that lost time down to the single fact that she was standing right in front of me.
"You actually sang for me," I said quietly.
Her mouth gave a weak, broken twitch. "I get paid to sing, asshole."
"You sang for me tonight."
She turned her head slowly, looking intently out toward the endless stretch of stars.
"You walked me back to it," she whispered. "I forgot how to share a count."
***
Somehow we ended up on the flattest shelf of basalt I could find, because Yeji was shivering through my hoodie and I sure as hell wasn't letting her freeze her ass off on a jagged pile of rock.
I sat first, planted wide, and tugged her down between my knees before she could argue.
She hit my lap with a startled yelp as my arms clamped around her waist. Grabbing my forearms, she adjusted her thighs and leaned back against my chest, tucking her bare legs between my denim.
The Pacific pounded the shoreline below in a slow, heavy rhythm. After a minute, her shoulders stopped jumping under my hands.
"It's almost too much," she murmured into the cold air.
I rested my chin near the crown of her head. "What is?"
"All those stars." She kept her hands still over mine.
I followed her gaze up. Without the Seoul smog bleeding out the sky, the galaxy stretching over us looked massive.
"Yeah," I said quietly. "Makes you feel small."
She let out a slow breath. "Small... but not alone."
I pulled my arms tighter around her waist, letting the heavy crash of the shoreline fill the dark for a minute.
"Karina whispered something to me," she said, dropping lower against my chest. "That first night at her villa."
I dragged my thumb over her knuckle. "After she hugged you?"
Her head turned slightly. "You saw that?"
"I saw her lean in. I saw you nod." I pressed my jaw against her hood. "Never heard the words."
Her hand closed harder over my forearm.
"She said, 'Without the courage to fall.'" Yeji looked back up at the stars. "'You already know, Yeji-yah - you sang it yourself.'"
The surf hit the rock below us.
"'You can never fly,'" I murmured, pressing my jaw against her head. "Best line in Bet On Me. Can't believe Karina gets your own lyrics better than you do."
Her elbow knocked lightly into my ribs. "Show-off."
Her pinky found mine and hooked around it, small and stubborn.
"I think..." She swallowed hard. "I thought if I just... opened my hand, there'd be nothing there."
I looked down at our fingers.
She squeezed once.
"But there is."
My grip tightened around her waist.
"If I had debuted..." I said under the sound of the surf. "Would we even have this?"
She finally broke her gaze away from the sky, shifting her head to look at me. "This?"
"Us. Like this." I looked down at our hands. "Maybe we would've eaten each other alive trying to survive it."
She dragged her thumb over the back of my hand. "Maybe that version of us would've been worse."
"So what do we do now?"
Her fingers tightened around mine. "We stop trying to rewrite the stars. We just... look at them."
I squeezed her fingers back in the quiet, pressing my jaw against her cool hair.
"You became Hwang Yeji because I quit," I told her to the dark. "Like I said. If I'd stayed, you would've kept focusing on fixing my head. I left, and you had to build everything yourself."
Her back went rigid against me.
"You want to know a secret?" she asked.
"Always."
"That night in the practice room. When I was falling apart, and you sat on the floor with me and told me I belonged there." She swallowed hard. "I became an idol because you made me believe I could."
I went quiet.
"Every stage I stood on," she whispered out into the ocean. "Every award I took. Every time I led the group when things went to shit... I was channeling the person you saw in me that night."
I closed my eyes, pressing my face into her hair.
"So yeah," she finished, a wet, quiet laugh slipping out. "You left. But you also gave me everything."
For once, I didn't know what to hate myself for. I buried my face into the side of her neck, pulling her flush against my chest until she let out a long, shuddering sigh.
Her body heat warmed my skin right through the fleece. The waves kept hitting the rock below us. Her hand stayed locked in mine.
We watched the stars.
I loosened my grip slightly so she could breathe.
"So why were you actually standing on a cliff edge taking shitty pictures in the dark?" I asked.
Her mouth curved into a smile against my collarbone. "I told you. I needed a photo for Bubble."
"You have six thousand photos of yourself on your phone right now."
"Of stars, idiot. A starlight shot." She twisted against my chest, retrieving the cold metal of her phone from her back pocket. "I've been dead silent online since we got to Jeju. Since you took those sunset pictures of me looking..."
"Like a liability?"
"Exactly." She sighed, staring down at the black screen. "I needed a cover story. A peace offering for the fans to cover my tracks. But my hands kept shaking the lens out of focus."
Her bare fingers trembled against the phone casing. I slid my arm around her side and offered my palm.
"Let me?"
She handed the phone over immediately.
I brought the screen up, framing the brightest cluster of the Milky Way directly over our heads. The camera static cleared instantly. I locked my elbows, leveling the shot perfectly still.
Her hand came up. Her freezing fingers slid over the back of mine, letting our knuckles overlap as we held the frame together.
"Ready?" I murmured.
"Yeah."
She dragged her thumb over mine, hitting the shutter.
The screen flashed once, burning a crisp, sharp image of the Jeju stars into the camera roll.
Yeji let out a long, shuddering exhale. Dragging her hand down, she hooked her pinky blindly into mine and rested her head back onto my shoulder. The phone slipped onto my denim. I wrapped both arms securely around her, burying my face against the fleece of her hood as we stared up into the dark.
The digital glow of the locked screen faded to black against my jeans.
***
[NARRATOR]
Two silhouettes sat tangled together on a flat shelf of dark volcanic rock. The Pacific stretched out before them, an endless expanse of black water and silver break crashing against the basalt in a mindless rhythm. Behind them, far up the sand, the bonfire had already died down to an tiny orange pinprick.
And above them: stars beyond counting.
The Milky Way swept across the black sky, a massive stretch of burning gas and dead space. The galaxy turned in the dark, holding no stake in the shoreline below or the five stolen years surviving on one ledge of stone.
Millions of fans spent their lives looking up at the girl on the Jeju rock, their own devotion illuminated by her heat.
But the sky offered no such promises, leaving the real stars to shine in the freezing vacuum of space regardless of who was watching.
All that empty space rendered the moment ephemeral.
Jeju had always been a place of exile - a stray sliver of volcanic rock separated from the real world by a small stretch of sea. The mainland's rules didn't apply out here. All the island offered was a brief suspension of time, leaving the cameras and the crushing pressure of Seoul across the water until nothing remained but the truth.
Caught between the black ocean dropping below and the silent universe expanding above, the only warmth in the coastal wind came from the embers they'd learned to keep alive in each other.
And the only meaning at the edge of the world was whatever they chose to hold in their hands.
So the stars just kept shining.
And so would they.
Intro | Masterlist | Series Index
Previous Chapter
――――――――――――――――――
MINHO, YEJI, YUNA, AND KARINA WILL RETURN IN THE EPILOGUE
ITZY Yeji x F OC/Reader
Two Halves Chapter 2
Read on Fanprose
Smut, Fluff, Angst
A/N1: Thanks to @azelfty for the beta read <3
A/N2: It's still the 26th somewhere! Happy (belated) Yeji Day!
“Offside! Number 24!” the referee bellows as you come to your senses.
“Substitution! Number 24, Mahusay, out! Number 8, Lee, in!”
As much as you want to question your coach’s decision of subbing you out, the anger on her face has you thinking it’s better to accept it.
“Jamie, come on! You look lost out there! You’re lucky this is just a friendly exhibition match.”
“Sorry coach.” you have no excuse. All you can do is apologize.
“Are you homesick or something?” One of your teammates on the bench asks. “You seem to have a lot on your mind.”
A lot on your mind. That’s a fucking understatement. If only they knew what was actually going through your brain right now. If only they knew about what happened that morning.
— — —
It’s been half a minute since Yeji first pulled you in for a kiss. You had all that time to pull away and stop this, go back to your breakfast and pretend like it never happened.
But you didn’t.
Instead, your hands migrate from the wall on either side of her head to her waist. On instinct, you lift her up and her legs wrap around your waist. Her hands move from your cheeks to your back as you carry her and pin her against the wall.
Don’t get confused (though at this point you already are), mere seconds ago you were fuming mad. You were already erupting at Yeji after months of pent up frustrations and anger finally make you hit your boiling point.
But now?
Now you can’t seem to pull your lips away from hers. You can’t seem to stop your hands from holding her and roaming around her lean and petite body. You can’t stop yourself from thinking how good she tastes, how right it feels when she holds you and you hold her.
Your legs start moving on their own, carrying Yeji across the apartment and into the dining area. There, you sit her on top of the kitchen counter, neither of your lips separate on the move. Your hands become restless, exploring the rest of her body. Hers does the same, caressing every inch of your torso before resting on the hem of your shirt. Yours on the other hand brushes against the waistband of her shorts.
Yeji grabs the hem of your shirt, ready to pull it up and off of you.
Your fingers breach the waistband of her shorts and panties, stopping just inches away from her core.
It would be the peak of this moment of passion. The penultimate scene.
But then it happens.
Your fingers brush against the mound of her core.
A quick moment of hesitation comes about from that incidental contact. The one second where your brains regain control and ask “What the actual fuck is happening?”
That's when the two of you come crashing back down to earth.
That’s when the two of you are brought back to reality.
Yeji lets go of your shirt.
Your hand retreats from her shorts.
You both pull away from the kiss. Eyes meeting, filled with more questions than answers. Neither of you move, Yeji still sitting on the counter in between your arms that are flanking her. For a few minutes, no words are said. That is, until Yeji breaks the silence.
“I… uh… have to get to the group schedule.” she mumbles as she hops off from the kitchen counter. You move to the side and let her through.
“Yeah… I… uh… have practice. I have to go too.” You reply.
The awkwardness of the situation fills the atmosphere between you two. Yeji clumsily gathers her things, the ones she dropped when you cornered her and she kissed you. When she does, she speeds out of Ryujin’s apartment, hands covering her still red cheeks.
When the door shuts after Yeji leaves, you're left alone in your girlfriend’s apartment. Sitting in confusion with half a bowl of soggy cereal.
— — —
After your disaster of a performance in that tune up exhibition match, you thought a warm shower might help in clearing your head.
Well, you’re wrong.
The scenes from this morning still played through your head, over and over again. Even while sitting on the locker room bench, getting dressed while trying to clear your brain. Suddenly, you see your phone light up in your bag. You check to see what the notification is but get shocked by what the text bubble says:
It's Yeji. We need to talk about this morning. Can you meet me at the cafe after 5?
If you were being honest with yourself, you’re conflicted. Most of what your brain is telling you to do is to just pretend the morning never happened. It made sense. Whatever lies underneath the events of this morning feels like a pandora’s box that should not be opened.
However, there was this little voice inside your head. It was arguing against forgetting. It was telling you the truth: that you’re curious. Actually, more than just curious. The reason you kept replaying the events in your head? It’s because you’re desperate for answers. Desperate to know why she kissed you when you thought she hated you.
Take a guess which voice won you over.
I’m on my way there.
— — —
You arrive at the cafe at 4:45. Considering you have fifteen minutes to spare, you decide to order a cold brew. Though that time allowance passes by in an instant as you wait nervously. The stress has you sweating bullets, even finishing your drink quicker than you should have. You decide to order another one just as the clock strikes 5. That’s when you see Yeji enter the cafe.
Your heart drops when you see her. Aside from the confusion, you have another sudden realization:
Was she with Ryujin before all this?
She said they had a group schedule. Would Yeji have said something to her? What would Ryujin’s reaction be? Would she get jealous? Mad?
While you’re in a state of panic, your gaze meets Yeji’s. It shakes you out of your panic, allowing you to point towards your table, to which she goes to and sits at. When you get your drink, you go back to the table and sit across from her.
“Hey.” you open.
“Hi.” Yeji responds.
“I didn’t know what to get you.”
“It’s fine, I'm not really thirsty anyway.”
“Alright.”
As quick as the conversation went, that’s also how quick the awkward silence took over. You decide to break it anyway.
“Uh, how did you get my number? Did you get it from Ryujin or…”
“From one of our managers. She had it just in case she couldn’t reach Ryujin while she’s with you.”
“Makes sense.” you pause. “So you didn’t talk to Ryujin?”
“No.”
“So you didn’t tell her?”
“No.”
Once again, the awkward silence takes over. You both sit there quietly, unsure of what to say, until the nagging feeling comes back to you and causes you to burst.
“Seriously, Yeji. What was that this morning?”
“I– I don’t know.”
“You don’t know why you kissed me? I thought you hated me?”
“I don’t hate you Jamie.” Yeji begins to explain. “I never did. I know I’ve been cold. I know I looked like I was uninterested. But I swear, I never was. When Ryujin first introduced you to us, the second I saw you, I started feeling something I couldn’t understand. The specific feeling I’ve only ever had for guys. I was confused, scared, and unsure of what was happening to me.”
“You were always so nice. So welcoming.” Yeji continues to rattle. “That just kept making it harder for me to understand what I was feeling. I thought that by being cold, that by pushing you away the feelings would disappear. I thought it was working. But then this morning… when you erupted at me. When you made me realize what I was doing and how I was coming off as. When you brought your face close to mine… I just lost control and—” she pauses as she tries to stop herself from crying. You offer her a napkin to wipe her tears.
“Thanks.” she says as she takes the napkin and wipes her tears. “Basically, I never hated you, Jamie. I’ve just been—”
“Confused.” you finish her thought for her. It starts to make sense. You feel like a fool for not seeing it. “It’s fine, Yeji. I understand.”
“You… You do?”
“Yeah. I went to an all-girls high school back at home.” you explain, “You wouldn’t believe the number of times I’ve had to play arbiter between friends when one of them starts developing feelings for the other. One friend icing the other out from confusion. The other one getting worried that they did something wrong. I should’ve picked up the signs, though it’s my first time being on the receiving end of it.”
On instinct, you hold Yeji’s hand in assurance.
“I know it can get confusing when it’s your first time to develop feelings for another girl. But trust me when I tell you that it’s completely valid. There’s nothing wrong with that. It’s normal. Okay?”
“Okay.” She says as flashes her dragon-like grin from your assuring words.
“So… back to Ryujin.”
“You have nothing to worry about. I didn’t tell her.”
Yeji’s words give you a sense of relief. But her next warning gets you back on your toes.
“You do plan on telling her, right?”
“Yeah… at least, I think so?”
“Don’t tell me you’re scared of her?” This new tone from Yeji was… something. A far cry from the ice-cold mask she wore around you in the past. Now? She feels warmer. Friendlier. What you expected to feel when you first met her.
“I’m not. It’s just…”
“Jamie.” Yeji says as she holds your hands now. “You’re in an open relationship with Ryujin. She won’t get mad that we kissed. But she will get mad if you keep it a secret for too long.”
Yeji has a point. When Ryujin’s with her other partners, she, at the very least, lets you know. She stays honest with you. Now, you should do the same.
“I’m not going to tell her, Jamie.” Yeji promises, “only because it’s not my story to tell. I’m telling you now, you have to tell her. Okay?”
“Alright.” That's all you can say in reply.
Yeji knows Ryujin. Hell, you know Ryujin. She won’t get mad at you.
Right?
— — —
Tonight, you’re back in your apartment. Not as spacious as Ryujin’s place, but enough for two people. You invited Ryujin over for dinner, which is burgers from her favorite fast food joint, hopefully to confess to her about what happened that morning.
You’re sitting on your couch, going through what you plan to say in your head when you hear the door open.
“Hey!” Ryujin shouts as she enters your apartment.
“Hey.” you say as you stand up and meet her, giving her a quick kiss before helping her with her bag. “Food’s on the table.” you direct her towards the dining table, to which she rushes to. You set her bag on the couch before joining her at the table, heart pounding like a jackhammer with your secret in tow.
Ryujin sits there, happily scarfing down her burger while you continue to debate with yourself internally if this was a good idea.
“Hey, so uh… this morning…”
“Mhmm?” she replies with a mouth full of food when she raises her gaze towards you.
“Yeji passed by your place. Dropped off a package that got sent to your dorms.”
“That’s sweet of her.” She’s able to say in a rare moment where her mouth wasn’t full of food.
“Yeah, well I told her she’s welcome to have coffee since she said that she had some free time before the group schedule.”
“Mhmm?”
“But then she got cold again. Lied about having to leave. And I kinda lost my temper and erupted at her and confronted her and…” you were about to start babbling, but then suddenly, there was an inner voice that decided that it was better to rip the ban-aid off.
“Yeji kissed me this morning.”
Band aid ripped off. You just blurt it out. Get it over with and deal with the consequences. Which, after a few silent seconds, Ryujin lets you know that there won’t be.
“See! I told you she didn’t hate you!” She says as she chuckles
“What?” You ask, confused.
“I mean, I did tell you. Right?”
You breathe a sigh of relief. She’s not mad. Yeji was right. But that calm wave of relief slowly dissipates. In its place, your insecurity and anxiety start to grow again.
“You’re not mad?” You ask.
“Nah, it was just a kiss. Right?”, she replies, “Plus, like I said. I told you she doesn’t hate you!”
Ryujin laughs at her joke, even gets a chuckle from you. Inside, though? Your insecurity continues to grow. It manifests itself in a question:
“Really? That’s your main takeaway? That’s the first thing you’re thinking of right now?” you ask in disbelief.
“I mean, you spent a whole day complaining about her.” She scoffs, “You can’t really blame me if it's the first thing on my mind.”
“Not even a hint of jealousy? Really?” the question basically exposes your true feelings, but Ryujin doesn’t seem to pick up on it.
“Jealousy? Why would I be jealous? We’re open, Jamie. Did you forget?”
“How could I forget with all the girls and guys you meet up with behind my back?” you mutter under your breath.
“What was that? I thought you were okay with an open set up?”
“I was never okay with it in the first place!”
“Then why’d you agree, huh? I told you up front what I already had set up, Jamie! If you weren’t comfortable with the idea, you shouldn’t have agreed to it in the first place!”
“IT’S BECAUSE OF YOU, RYUJIN!” You explode as you’re unable to control your emotions. “Telling me straight away that you already have an open set-up wasn’t a heads up. It was an ultimatum! I thought I could bear it. The jealousy, the insecurity of you having multiple partners because I was one of them. I thought I could bear it because I had you. Because I was with you. Because of you.” Your voice softens as you get the last part out.
“So what are you saying?” Ryujin starts probing. “Why can’t you handle it anymore, Jamie?”
You stay silent.
“Are you saying that I’m not worth it anymore?” There’s aggression in her voice, but also concern. Insecurity. She’s worried about losing you. Genuinely worried.
You want to reply. You really do. But you have no idea what to say, because you’re not sure what your true feelings are. Not anymore.
“Jamie?”
“I–” words finally start to materialize, “I have to go.” just not the words that Ryujin wanted to hear.
“You’re not going anywhere.” Ryujin says. “This is your apartment, you have nowhere else to go.” She says as she approaches you.
“Don’t!” you shout at her that makes her stop in her tracks. “Just… don’t follow me.” You say as you leave your apartment.
— — —
Ryujin had a point. It was your apartment. You had nowhere else to go. So why on fucking earth did you leave it?
As you sit in a convenience store, sipping on coffee as the rain outside continues to pour, you come to a sensible conclusion:
You’re overly dramatic.
“Not even a single text…” you mutter to yourself as you keep refreshing your chat with Ryujin.
You shouldn’t be too surprised. She barely texts you on a regular basis. But to go silent after a fight? Not even just to check on you? Fuck.
Back to your current problem, you literally have nowhere to go. All of your teammates were bunked up in the team’s dorms, leaving no extra space for you. You didn’t really know anyone aside from them, Ryujin and the rest of Itzy, so your choices are limited. You go through your contacts, debating who you could turn to for this problem when your gaze gravitates to your newest contact.
Yeji.
You’re crazy to think that this would be a good idea. You just became friends after months of thinking that she hated you. Asking if you could stay the night a few hours later seems like a tall order. But then you take a look around in the convenience store you’re cooped up in. On one end of the bar was an old man that was half asleep, yet somehow burping at the same time. On one of the outside tables was a guy wearing a tinfoil hat talking to himself. At this point, anywhere is better than here. You’re about to text Yeji when a text notification pops up.
Speak of the devil…
“Hey. It’s Yeji. Did you tell Ryujin?”
“Hey. Don’t worry, I have your number saved already. Yes I did.”
“Did she get mad?”
“No.”
“See! I told you!”
“Yeah… Well I did. And I stormed out of my own apartment to prove a point.”
“...”
“Look I know we just became friends, but is there any way I could crash on your couch for the night?”
“I’m actually at my sister’s.”
“Oh.”
“Just house sitting while they’re on vacation. I don’t think they would mind.”
“Are you sure? I’d hate to get you in trouble with your family.”
“It’s fine! I swear! Here’s the address!”
Yeji sends you her sister’s address in the following text. You decide to take a taxi on the way there, but pick up a box of fried chicken first. It’s the least you can do.
— — —
“Hi.” Yeji says as she leans against the door frame.
“Hey.” you reply, “I thought I should at least bring food or something for you since you’re letting me crash on the couch.”
You hand her the box of fried chicken as she lets you in.
“You didn’t have trouble finding the place?” She asks as she sets the chicken down on the coffee table.
“Not really.” you reply, “It also helped that the rain stopped, getting a taxi was a lot easier.”
“Make yourself comfortable on the couch!” Yeji shouts as she rummages through the refrigerator.
You take her up on her offer, settling on the couch while you open the chicken. Yeji finally finds what she was looking for in the fridge, setting down a few bottles of soju and two shot glasses on the coffee table.
“This alright?” she asks you with the bottle in hand, “Don’t have any early plans tomorrow?”
“Nah.” you reply, “I’m guessing you don’t have any too? Considering you might still be hungover by tomorrow.” you tease her.
“I swear people take that clip too seriously.” Yeji whines as she sits down on the couch, “I am not a lightweight! The soju they were serving that day was just really strong.”
“Excuses excuses.” you continue to tease her as you open a bottle and pour a glass for the both of you.
“Enough about me allegedly being lightweight.” Yeji says after taking her first shot, “How did you go from hoping Ryujin won’t get mad at you to you getting mad at her.”
You down your first shot in one gulp, ironically for some clarity. With the soju in your system, you recount to Yeji what happened in your apartment, the center of it all being how you got mad that Ryujin didn’t get jealous.
“So…” Yeji follows up to your story, “you just left? Your own apartment no less?”
“I’m a bit… dramatic.”
“You don’t say.” Yeji chuckles, “Couldn’t have guessed from how you exploded at me this morning.”
“Sorry about that, by the way.” You manage to say before taking another shot of soju.
“It’s fine, Jamie.” Yeji reassures you, “but back to the matter, why did you want Ryujin to get jealous?”
You take your… fourth? Fifth? Shot before you answer. “I thought… I just thought that maybe… maybe she’d get jealous because I’m special.”
“Special?”
“Different. I mean different from the others.” you clarify, “Don’t get me wrong, I know what I got into. I know she has a whole roster of other people that she meets up with. It’s just… I thought— I hoped that she would at least be bothered if someone made a move on me. Even more so if they kissed me.”
“Ryujin isn’t really the type to get jealous, Jamie.”
“I know, I know. Hell, look at her set up.” you both chuckle, “It’s my baggage. Always has been.”
“It’s not baggage, Jamie.”
“But it is, Yeji.” you stop using the shot glass and start drinking straight from a freshly opened bottle. “Fuck— I’ll never be enough for anyone. Not enough for Ryujin. Not even enough for my parents.”
“Parents? Jamie, come on. You don’t mean that. Where’s that coming from?”
“Pains of being the second child, I guess?” you chuckle to yourself. “Especially following an over-achieving older brother and being followed by a dangerously incompetent younger brother. I spent the better half of my childhood having to compete for attention between those two. Though I always seem to lose out in the end. They’re always too busy either celebrating my older brother’s achievements or cleaning up after my younger brother’s stupid mistakes.”
“That must be rough.” Yeji tries to console you, “but Jamie, why go into an open relationship if you know you have issues with competing for attention?”
“Immersion therapy.” you say non-chalantly, earning a confused look from Yeji. “I thought if I faced it… forced myself to live in this fear of mine, that I’d be able to get over it. Clearly it didn’t work.” you joke, “All it did was fuck me up even more, and let me know that I’ll never be enough for anyone. That no one will ever choose me.”
At this point, most people would be in tears already. Unfortunately for you, you’ve made yourself outgrow that. You hang your head back, letting it sink into the couch cushions. Sitting in silence has become your go-to coping mechanism. Though this is the first time you’ve ever done it with someone else to keep you company.
Silence conquers the living room. Neither of you say a word. You assume Yeji is unsure what to say. After the decades worth of trauma you just dumped on her, you would understand why she’s having a hard time finding words. Though, after a few moments, the words that come out of her mouth surprise you.
“Jamie…” Yeji says, a bit slurred. “What if— hic— What if there is someone who will choose you.”
When you turn to face her, you see that she has already drunk half of a freshly opened bottle of soju, along with her face in the shade of bright crimson. Not lightweight my ass is all you can think.
“Yeji, you’re drunk.”
“No I'm not.”
“Your face is redder than a tomato and you’re slurring your words.”
“Okay! Maybe I'm a little— just a tiny bit tipsy, but I’m telling you Jamie. I’m thinking clearly right now.” When you look at her again, you see that she’s inched closer to you on the couch. “I think I’m thinking clearly… about you.”
“Yeji…” you start backing up to the arm rest, “we can’t. We’re both drunk. You might regret this in the morni—” she stops your thought by putting a finger over your lips. Slowly, her hand moves to your cheek.
“No. I won’t regret it.” Yeji says as she crawls over you. “I’m choosing you, Jamie.”
You don’t get to reply as she captures your lips in a kiss that outdoes the one from that morning. She crawls further on top of you before straddling your lap. Her other hand joins the one at your face, holding your cheeks as she continues to kiss you. Yeji’s sure of herself this time, and she lets you know through her lips. She’s eager. Confident. Taking the lead for now as you continue to wrestle with your conscience.
You’re still in your head, debating whether or not this is right. But then, her words start to echo through your mind:
“I won’t regret it.”
“I’m choosing you, Jamie.”
Maybe it’s the soju running through your own system, but you suddenly find yourself melting into the kiss. Melting into Yeji.
Your hands move on their own, finding the comfort of the dip of her waist. You fully pull her onto your lap as her hands migrate down and wrap around your shoulders. You start kissing her back, slowly dominating her lips as she starts to surrender to your control.
Soon, you start leaning forward, with Yeji falling into the space between your legs. You keep pushing forward, asserting control, showing dominance, until you have her pinned on the cushions. As the two of you continue to melt into the kiss, her legs wrap around your waist and her fingers start getting tangled in your hair. Your hands finally sneak under her oversized shirt, feeling her lean stomach in your grasp. When she starts tugging your shirt to pull it over your head, your voice of reason comes back to knock, at the very least, some sense into you again.
“Yeji, wait.” you manage to say as you pull away and sit back.
“Jamie, come on…” Yeji whines, thinking that you’re having doubts again.
“No, it’s not that.” you assure her. “It’s just… I don’t think it’s the best idea to do… this in the living room where your baby nephew plays in.”
You see the alcohol subside in Yeji’s eyes in real time as she realizes it too.
“Oh… Yeah. Good point.” she says as she sits up, “I’m staying in the guest room. On the left down the hall.”
“Alright. I’ll meet you there.” You say before you give her a quick kiss. “I’ll just get some water.”
Yeji forms a soft smile before she walks towards her room. You take a moment as you realize what’s about to happen. Your heart’s thumping harder than it should, desperate to break out of your chest. When you take a swig of water, it helps you sober up a bit. You grab another bottle for her before heading to her room.
You’ve barely opened the door before Yeji’s all over you again. Your arms wrap around her, though you’re unable to get a good grip with the bottles in your hand. She pulls you towards the bed, where you manage a moment to put the water bottles on the nightstand. With your hands free, your hands find her waist again, fingers digging into her oversized shirt. Her arms wrap around your shoulders as you start getting into the kiss again.
As quick as Yeji tries to lead the kiss, she starts surrendering control to you just as fast. It’s the biggest difference you’ve noticed between her and Ryujin.
With Ryujin, she wants you to surrender to her whims, both in and out of the bedroom. She doesn’t leave you a choice. She takes control because she wants to. All you can do is give blind devotion.
With Yeji, it’s different. The way she surrenders herself to you, it’s anchored in a new found trust that she’s discovered with you. You can’t help but make sure that you earn that trust. Make sure that she feels good. Make sure that she’s comfortable.
Yeji suddenly pulls away for a split second, which makes you worry that she’s having doubts. Instead, her words let you know of a different anxiety that she’s been harboring.
“Jamie… wait.” she says as she sits up.
“What’s wrong?”
“It’s… It’s my first time.”
“Your first time?” your eyes widen with doubt. Also maybe some flashes of anxiety if it’s true.
“With a girl, dummy!” she punches your shoulder from your insinuation which makes you both chuckle, “I’m not a prude, jeez. I’m– I’m just not sure how—”
“Yeji.” you cut her off by placing a hand on her cheek. Slowly, you slide it down to her chin to direct her gaze towards you. “We can stop if you want to. But trust me. I got you, okay?”
Yeji’s gaze pierces into your eyes. Observing— searching for any faults in your sincerity. She finds none, because you meant every word.
“I– I trust you.” Yeji gives you a meek smile before you lean in to give her a soft kiss.
“Just tell me, okay?” you whisper as you pull away from the quick kiss, “If you like the spot, if you don’t. If you want me to go faster or slower. If you want me to stop, I’ll do it at an instant. You just have to let me know, Yeji. Okay?”
She nods before she pulls you in for a fiery kiss. Your hands find the hem of Yeji’s oversized shirt before hers join in. Together, you pull her top off of her, leaving her only in her shorts. You break away from the kiss, taking a moment to admire her figure. She’s a lot leaner than Ryujin. Softer. You’re almost caught in a trance before you remember your goal.
You lean in and give Yeji a quick parting kiss before you start to traverse down her figure. You plant soft and quick kisses as you go down her body.
Peppering her jawline.
Pushing deep into her clavicle.
On the soft mounds of her chest.
Over her the smooth illusion of her well-toned abs.
You fight the temptation to take your time, desperate to taste her skin and flesh. Alas, you decide to continue on to your current goal.
You come face to face with Yeji’s shorts, the fabric being the last obstacle to your desired destination. You hold on to the garter as she lifts her hips up, allowing you to slide her bottoms down her legs. You put it aside as you sit on your heels, taking in Yeji’s entirely unexposed beauty for the first time tonight. Her cheeks get even redder compared to when she was tipsy, her shyness showing in full force. To reassure her, you give her a soft kiss on her hand that causes her to smile.
You lean back down, coming face to face with Yeji’s exposed core. Her scent is exhilarating, causing the adrenaline to rush throughout your system, begging you to finally taste her. As much as you want to give in, you know it would be best not to rush her first time. Instead, you decide to ease her in slowly, let her get comfortable and enjoy. There’s an itch inside of you to do more than satisfy her, and you know in order to do that you would need to pace yourself.
To start off, you plant quick soft and exploratory kisses on her thighs. You take your time, feeling her softness on your lips. Sucking on her flesh, making her moan and coo. Tasting her skin as your tongue darts and flattens against her. You jump from either thigh, working your way up from her knees. Each time you inch close, her eyes widen in anticipation. She watches your every move. Each lick. Each kiss. You can feel her breath hitch. What may plainly be edging and teasing for you could be torture for her. So, you move on.
You finally reach your main goal of Yeji’s exposed core, taking a second to appreciate it, looking in awe. Her scent fills your nostrils again, nearly making you go feral. It’s a good thing your self-control is strong. You don’t make contact at first. Nothing at all. You ghost her pink folds with your lips, separated only by microns. Instead, you let the warmth of your breath linger on her skin and flesh. You give her a few passes. Up and down. Left to right. The sensation has her shudder in your grasp. Her head falls back against the mattress in anguish, desperate to feel your touch. It takes only a few more passes before she finally breaks.
“Jamie…” Yeji whispers.
You look up to match her gaze. You can already see it in her eyes, but she says it anyway.
“T—touch me. Please.”
Who were you to deny her plea?
You flatten her tongue just above her puckered hole. Slowly, you drag it up, separating her folds and getting a taste of her inner walls. You continue dragging your tongue up before your nose brushes her inflamed clit, followed by your tongue lapping at it as well. In that singular lick, a long and dragged out moan rips from Yeji’s throat. She sinks into the plush of the mattress after her body tenses and arches from your first touch. She could tell that somehow one lick from you was enough to get her close. But she isn’t the only one left in awe.
Her taste.
Holy fuck, her taste.
You’ve been agnostic ever since your local priest decided to go on a hateful tirade against LGTBQ+ people in a random homily, but now you’re sure God exists because only a higher being could have created someone as perfect as her.
Who knew having sex with another woman would start your path back towards religion? The irony of it all.
You want more of her taste. Desperate to get in your mouth. Dying to have it spill out and stain your lips, cheeks and chin. You want more of her nectar, but the only way to do so was to bring her to nirvana.
So you do.
You grip her thighs hard, opening her up to give yourself more space. Yeji shrieks in surprise, but it immediately gets replaced by moans as you start eating her out.
“Oh god… Jamie—”
Your tongue flattens even more, spreading her outer folds even farther.
“Oh— Right there!”
Your tongue pierces deeper, causing her to moan. You get a taste of her inner walls, claiming her arousal directly from the source.
“Fuck… Jamie— JUST LIKE THAT! JUST LIKE THAT!”
You focus on her clit, your mouth forming a seal as you suck and lick at her button. Her hands are restless, going from gripping fistfuls of the bed sheets underneath her to her fingers getting tangled in your hair. Her hands push you deeper into her core. You continue lapping at her. Hungry for her pleasure and arousal. Eager to get her to her peak. Her thighs are already fighting your grip, desperate to snap around your head and keep you in place. It only takes a few more moments, just a few more laps at her core before–
“Oh fuck! Jamie… I’m close! I’m close! I’m—”
Yeji shrieks as her first orgasm of the night washes over her. You feel her walls start to spasm and contract around your tongue as her juices start flooding your mouth. Her body tenses up , back arching away from the bed, before she sits up and folds into herself. Her moans fill the room as she grinds her hips towards your face, working together with her hands to push you deeper into her. Her thighs break free from your grips, snapping shut around your head, nearly stopping the circulation of your blood to your brain.
Throughout her climax, you continue to eat out and lap at Yeji, desperately trying to prolong her high. You want more of her nectar, eager to have her fill your mouth and stamp her taste into your mind. If that wasn’t enough, the symphony of moans, curses, and your name escaping her mouth urges you to keep going. Your nose keeps brushing against her clit as her hips continue to grind towards your face. You’re afraid that you may have set the bar too high, but there was a little voice inside your head that said you’d be damned to ever let anyone try to reach it.
Eventually, Yeji starts to come down from her peak. Her body softens, sinking into the mattress. Her hips ease to halt, hands and thighs following suit, releasing you from a prison you didn’t mind being trapped in. Her moans slowly die down, leaving the room silent, aside from her labored breaths. When you pull away, you notice the stain on the sheets after she soaked them. You lean back onto her body, trailing kisses up her figure, leaving wet marks with your lips still coated in her arousal. You fight the temptations of taking your time with her mounds, you’ll save that for later. You trail a lick up her neck and along her jawline, capturing the beads of sweat that formed on her skin. Finally, you reach her mouth again, slightly ajar, inviting your lips and tongue. You accept the invitation, your lips finding hers, tongues breaching and dancing, letting her taste her arousal in your mouth, on your lips and tongue. With what little strength she has left, her hands find your cheeks, pulling your face in even deeper into the kiss. You get lost– the both of you do, into the kiss. If you could, you’d have this moment last forever. It feels so right.
So… perfect.
Unfortunately, this forever has an end. The both of you pull away from the kiss, with soft smiles forming on your lips. Your gazes are attracted to each other in the silence, that is until you break it.
“Hi.” you whisper towards Yeji.
“Hi.” she whispers back.
The silly exchange gets you both to chuckle.
“Are you alright?” you ask in a whisper close to her ear.
“Amazing.” she manages to answer in between pants, “I– I don’t think any of the guys I’ve been with made me cum that hard.”
“It’s different when your partner knows her way around.” you joke, “Though, I hope you don’t think we’re already finished. We’re not done just yet.” you say with a smirk.
Yeji’s lips form a smile in reply to yours before you crash your lips into hers again. You share a fiery and passionate lip lock as your hand ghosts a path down her figure, finding her core once again.
Like before, you decide to tease her a bit. Massaging her thighs, getting just close enough to her folds without actually touching it. Her hands reach for your wrist, trying hard to pull you closer to her wish, yet you overpower her anyway. When you feel like you’ve built her up enough again, you finally give in to her wish, letting your knuckles brush against her clit. Her moan escapes into your mouth, with her unwilling to break from the kiss. You play with her hardened pearl in your fingers. Pinching it. Tugging on it. Rolling it between your fingers. It gets Yeji restless in your hold, her body squirming as your other arm digs underneath her and wraps around her. She eventually calms down when you relent from her clit, but her pause only lasts for a moment.
“OH FUCK!”
Yeji screams in pleasure the second one of your fingers enters her cunt. Her mouth relents from the kiss, in need of more oxygen and being unable to hold back her moans. You give her a few slow pumps before you add a second.
“Oh god… Jamie… feels so good…”
You continue pumping in and out of her. A slow and steady pace, making sure she feels each time you’re knuckle deep inside of her. Moans continue to flow out of her mouth, filling the room with a symphony of your liking. After a few more pumps, you decide to up the ante. Not only do you start pumping into her even faster, you start curling your fingers inside of Yeji. Hitting the right spot, rubbing her inner walls. She groans from the new sensation, even more so when your thumb finds her clit again, playing with her love button as your digits continue working inside of her.
“Holy shit… just like that, Jamie– PLEASE! Just like that!”
Your mouth was hungry for Yeji’s, but it was relentless for finding a temporary replacement. Your lips gravitate to her neck, latching on and sucking on her skin, marking her for yourself. You lap at the beads of sweat forming on her shoulder and pooling in her clavicle, tasting the other fruits of your labor. You crane your neck, finally giving her soft mounds the attention they deserve. You kiss the flesh of her chest, capturing her nipple in between your lips. Your tongue flattens and flicks against her erect nub, making her moan even louder.
You can feel it. Yeji’s close. It won’t be long now. Just a few more pumps, the right pressure on her clit, just the right sensation to push her over the edge. You push in deep one more time, curling your fingers that hits her most sensitive spot. It’s the moment when you make contact that drives her over the edge.
“Oh god! Jamie! Fuck— I’m cumming! I’m cumming!”
Yeji cries out in pleasure as you bring her to climax for the final time that night. Her mouth falls open in a silent cry as you latch on to her hardened nipple once again. Her entire body tenses up as you continue to pump into her through her high. Her hands cling to anything they can grab on to help her through her high. The bedsheets, your forearm. Her fingers dig deep as she rides out her peak. Her hips buck against your hand, desperately trying to match your efforts in prolonging her high. Pulses of her juices start to gush out of her folds, soaking your hand and the sheets underneath her. You latch off from her hardened peak, giving a few kisses to her mounds before your mouth finds hers again. You swallow all her moans as your tongue laps against hers. It’s been a while since you’ve been the top or dom, especially since you’ve been Ryujin, but seeing how much pleasure you managed to give Yeji, you have an itching feeling you could get addicted.
Yeji eventually comes down from her high. Her body softens, sinking into the mattress. Her hips calm down to a halt. You relent from the kiss, no matter how hard it may be to do, to let her take in more much needed oxygen. Her mouth forms a soft smile as her half-lidded eyes gravitate towards you. You can’t help but form your own in reply.
“You alright?” you whisper to her.
“Yeah.” she manages to answer through her labored breath, “That was… something else.”
“If it was too much, just tell me.” you reply with concern, “I can tone it down–”
“No!” her reaction shocks you, “The intensity… It’s different from what I experienced with guys. I– I think I like it. I think I love it.” she says with a toothy grin.
It’s the same toothy grin that gets you to lean in and kiss Yeji again. Still deep. Still passionate. Just more tame this time. When you both part, bright smiles still adorn your faces. You lie down beside her, she turns her body towards you. Your arms wrap around her to pull her in for a hug as you both feel the fatigue finally start to take over.
Yeji’s eyes start to flutter closed, her breathing and heartbeat slowing down in rest. You lean into her forehead and give her one last kiss goodnight before you rest yours on hers. In the silence of the room, you whisper one last message to her:
“Thank you, Yeji.”
A soft smile forms on her face as she succumbs to the sandman’s pull. You hold her tighter in your embrace, keeping her close as you feel yourself start to lose consciousness as well.
You’re not aloof. You know what this night means, or rather the questions that've been brought up.
Are you still with Ryujin?
Will Yeji be your first partner in this little polygamous set-up that you have?
As much as they try to cloud your tired thoughts, Yeji’s warmth brings you reprieve to deal with them for another day.
For now, you’ll just enjoy this.
Yeji’s warmth as she rests in your embrace, and the feeling that she gave you.
The feeling that you’re more than enough.
-To be continued.
A/N 3: If any of my readers are filo sapphics who did go to all-girls schools, please feel free to educate me more on what the culture is like! I can only do so much as a straight man who's been in co-ed his whole life TT. I'm more than willing to learn more since most of these are based on stories from friends!
Part of my BLACKED Baddies shorts, see my masterlist for more chapters.
1.2k words.
Karina's eyes widened at the sight of an African refugees massive BBC. With a shaky hand she reached out to grab it, feeling the strong pulse throbbing against her palm. Her mouth fell open when she began to stroke, watching it flop in her hands a bit, realizing he wasn't even fully hard.
Karina gasped, drooling as she stroked with both hands. She felt the carpet against her knees, and the touch of his ebony thighs around her torso. She leaned forward, pressing her pursed lips to the head to give it a tender kiss.
Her tongue pressed forward, tasting her first black cock, inhaling the musk that filled her nose. Her right eye twitched and she felt the thoughts within her head melting into a a warm wave of bliss rolling down her spine.
Hawk tuah! Karina spit on that thang and covered it in a layer of glistening sheen that her hands stroked into the dark African meat. Her lips wrapped around the head, eagerly parting to let it slide across her wet tongue and into the back of her throat.
GLUCK! GLUCK! AAH! GLUCK! She started to blow him between loud gasps for air. She could only fit half into her mouth, stroking him desperately with both hands covered in her own spit. The bull groaned, placing both hands on her head to hold her in place, preventing her from lifting off of his BBC.
His hips thrusted upward, jamming his big black cock into the back of her throat with force. Karina let out a muffled scream, but the bull kept going, grunting as he used her throat like a fleshlight for his own pleasure.
Her hands slapped at his thighs and abs, begging him to stop, but only motivated him to keep going. "I'm here to fuck all the women!" he groaned, pushing Karina down on his cock until she was gagging violently, her eyes rolling back until they were nearly solid white.
He gave her cheek a slap, then released her and watched Karina gasp for air, her chest heaving as she sat back against the coffee table behind her. Her throat stung as she panted, wiping the spit from her chin that had soaked into her black REFUGEES WELCOME shirt with a black fist in the middle of the Korean flag.
The bull stood up and grabbed her hair in his hand, motioning for her to follow him. "No!" he said when she tried to stand up, "I'll walk you like the slut you are."
Karina crawled on all fours beside him, following with her heavy tits sagging down against the fabric of her shirt. Her pale, naked ass in the air swayed side-to-side as he led her across the room, passing by other bulls who were hammering black cock into screaming Korean women.
The sliding door of the patio opened and Karina felt the hard concrete against her palms and knees as he led her to a beach chair and pointed for her to get on it. Karina climbed up and felt his hands on her waist, flipping her onto her back.
"Let me have those big ass titties," he said, pushing the shirt up to reveal her braless, pale, fat tits. He slapped his wet BBC between them and Karina moaned deeply, feeling the power and heft of his black cock as it thumped against her soft skin.
"Mmm, fuck my big Korean tits!" Karina blurted out, lifting her hands to the sides of her chest to press them together around the ebony pole between them.
Karina watched a pair of hands coil around the bulls sides, and then the face of Giselle smiling down at her. "That's it, fuck those big tits," Giselle said to him in a soft, encouraging voice. "They're what you came here for, aren't they? Big asian tits and tight little Korean pussies to breed."
The bull groaned, his hips thrusting back and forth between Karina's fleshy melons engulfing his dark cock. She felt the head poking at her neck with every thrust, peeking out from under the top of her shirt and occasionally trying to slip under her choker necklace.
Karina's head spun with lust, her toes curling the moment that Giselle lowered her face to her pussy to start licking it. Karina let out a long, low moan of satisfaction, closing her eyes and arching her back.
Giselle shoved a couple fingers in without warning, working them back and forth inside Karina, her thumb working circles on her sensitive clit to drive her mad. Karina breathed deeply in sharp breaths, her thighs beginning to shake, chest turning red.
The bull reached down with both hands and wrapped them around her neck, his thumbs pressing the head of his black cock against her throat as he fucked her busty chest. Karina's eyes rolled, but the grip on her squishy boobs never relaxed, and she kept them pressed hard around the BBC pumping between them.
Karina let out a moan, kicking her foot as Giselle shoved her tongue into her cunt, drilling into it with her fingers and nuzzling her nose right up against the clit. It was too much for Karina, her head was swimming, and she felt like she would pass out from the pleasure.
The bull pressed down harder and Karina felt his weight on her throat, choking her until her cheeks turned a rosy red hue. She wanted to grab at his wrists, but she kept her hands around her tits, refusing to let go until he told her to.
The bull groaned as his BBC slipped under the choker, pinning his head in place as he began to spurt a series of hot ropes across Karina's chin and neck. She felt the pulsing his shaft, the flowing hot ropes of cum shooting up her chin before running down her neck and into her dark hair.
He gave her a few more pumps, then pulled his BBC back and slapped it wetly against each breast before leaving her and Giselle. "I'm gonna..." Karina panted, pinching her nipples and twisting them, pulling her sagging breasts upward with a scream.
Karina began to squirt all over Giselle's face, coating her lips and tongue, and Giselle ate it up hungrily while continuing to lick and finger until Karina fell limp with rolling eyes.
Giselle crawled up Karina's body, hovering over her with cum dripping from her lips and chin, glistening brightly. She lowered her head to lick the cum from Karina's neck, lapping it up and ending with a soft bite into her flesh.
She dragged her tongue along Karina's throat, up her chin, and then to her lips, sliding into her mouth to deposit the bull's load. Karina's eyes rolled in circles, she moaned deeply, a hand reaching up to pull Giselle in deeper.
They swapped the load back and forth with sloppy open-mouthed kisses, their tongues twisting together, pushing against each other, lips meeting until the cum had all been swallowed.
Giselle pulled back and caressed Karina's cheek, looking deep into her eyes. They kissed one last time, and Giselle grabbed a handful of Karina's left tit to squeeze as she did so.
The night was still young and the black breeding party had just started, there were more men inside waiting for their welcome to Korea, and the two of them were more than happy to give it to them.
"Let's get these big black cocks," Giselle grinned, taking Karina by the hand to lead her back to the party.
The music in the room next door was loud enough to shake the walls. The bass thumped through the house, you could feel the beat in your chest. Voices overlapped somewhere beyond the hallway laughter, shouting, someone yelling the lyrics to a song.
Were they the right lyrics?
No, but that's ok.
The party had gotten bigger at some point without anyone noticing.
Y/n was in a room far from the source of the music. Yes, you could feel the music, but it wasn’t loud enough to be too bothersome.
Y/n leaned back against the couch, half-listening to Minju argue with Yunah over which movie they should put on after they got bored of dancing.
“You always pick something depressing or action-filled OR scary, and I don't want to watch something scary,” Yunah complained, stealing chips from the open bag in Minju’s hands.
“And you have the attention span of a goldfish,” Minju shot back.
“For the last time, I don’t know what that means,” Yunah said while waving her hands around.
Moka laughed softly from beside Y/n, shoulders brushing his for barely a second before she stepped away again.
He noticed it but chose to just let it linger.
“You’re quiet,” she said, glancing up at him.
He looked to her, “So are you.”
“That’s because Yunah’s talking enough for everybody.”
“Fair point.”
Moka smiled under her breath, trying to hide it behind the rim of her cup.
“It’s getting suspicious,” Minju said flatly, scrolling through movies on the TV while people shouted over each other in the living room. “At this point you two are either secretly dating or deeply committed to psychological warfare.”
“For the last time. We are not dating,” Moka said for what was probably the tenth time that night.
Yunah, currently trying to manage both the music queue and three different drunk people asking where the drinks were, pointed at them from across the room. “Then explain whatever this is.”
Y/n looked around dramatically. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“That,” Yunah said. She pointed to our shoulders “The constant touching!”
Moka frowned. “We barely touch.” At the exact same moment, she reached over to brush chip crumbs off Y/n’s hoodie sleeve.
The room went silent for half a second.
Minju slowly lowered her phone and looked at them. “You have got to be kidding me.”
Moka blinked. Then looked down at her own hand still resting on his arm. “Oh. That.”
Y/n laughed immediately. “You guys are insane,” he said.
“We’re insane?” Yunah repeated. “You literally look at each other like you’re in a slow-burn romance drama!”
“We do not.”
“You absolutely do,” Minju added. “Last week he carried you because you said your feet hurt.”
“My feet did hurt! Did you see my shoes?”
“And she feeds you food constantly,” Yunah accused.
“That’s because he forgets to eat when he games.”
“That’s not helping your case,” Minju sighed.
The thing was, none of it meant anything.
At least that’s what both of them kept telling themselves.
It had started as a joke forever ago. Tiny fake-flirty moments just to mess with their friends because Yunah reacted like she was watching a scandal unfold in real time.
And honestly? Watching her lose her mind was hilarious.
So naturally, instead of stopping, they got worse.
“You know what?” Y/n said casually, leaning back into the couch. “Maybe we are dating.”
Yunah looked at the two of them with a look that would definitely kill if it could.
Moka immediately grabbed his arm dramatically. “Babe, don’t expose us like that.”
“Oh my god,” Yunah whispered.
Minju looked exhausted already. “The two of you suck.”
Y/n bit back a laugh as Moka rested her head briefly against his shoulder just to make Yunah even more upset.
That did it.
Yunah pointed at them like she’d finally snapped. “GET OUT.”
“What?”
“OUT. BOTH OF YOU.” Moka burst into laughter.
“You have a party to tend to, you know,” Minju reminded Yunah while grabbing a drink from the table.
She turned to Minju and said, “I CAN DO BOTH.”
“You clearly cannot.” Yunah ignored her completely and marched toward them with narrowed eyes.
“Oh, she’s serious,” Y/n laughed.
“Run,” Moka said instantly.
That was all the warning he got before she grabbed his hand and bolted.
Yunah yelled after them immediately. “MOKA!”
People turned as they sprinted through the crowded house laughing.
Someone nearly spilled a drink trying to move out of their way. “WHAT IS HAPPENING?” a random guy shouted.
“YUNAH’S LOSING IT AGAIN,” Minju answered from downstairs.
Moka was laughing so hard she could barely breathe as she dragged Y/n up the stairs.
“You’re evil,” he said between laughs.
“You started it!”
“Hey, You called me babe!”
“You looked so uncomfortable!”
“I was uncomfortable!”
The upstairs hallway was quieter, but they could still hear Yunah stomping after them downstairs while yelling threats.
“She’s actually coming up here,” Moka whispered.
“No way. She wouldn’t.”
“MOKA!” Her voice projected through the entire house.
“I stand corrected.”
Y/n laughed again just as Moka shoved open her bedroom door. “Get in the closet,” she ordered.
“What are we, fugitives?”
“Yes. Move.”
Before he could argue, she pushed him inside her cramped closet and squeezed in after him, shutting the door just as footsteps reached the hallway.
Darkness crept in, the only light was between the slits of the door. Outside the closet, Yunah stopped. “I know you’re in here somewhere,” she said with a creepy voice.
“You know for someone who is easily scared of things, she is terrifying” Y/n muttered.
Moka pressed a hand over her mouth to stop herself from laughing.
After some seconds passed, Moka shifted awkwardly, trying not to lean too much against him. Unfortunately every adjustment somehow made more contact instead of less.
Her shoulder brushed his chest. Then her hip bumped his thigh. Then she shifted again trying to fix it, “Moka,” Y/n groaned quietly.
“What?”
“Please stop moving.”
“I’m uncomfortable!”
“You are making me uncomfortable.”
She froze. “What does that mean?”
Minju’s voice drifted from farther away down the hall. “Yunah. Leave them alone.”
They both stopped moving.
His hands landed carefully on her waist to stop her from moving again.
The sudden contact silenced both of them instantly. Moka’s breath caught. Y/n exhaled slowly through his nose like he was already regretting every decision that led him here.
“They’re being suspicious!”
“You’re hosting a party.” Minju then added dryly, “Go be social.”
“Okay,” she whispered nervously. “Then let me turn around.”
His head tipped lightly back against the wall behind him. “That’s worse, Moka.”
She frowned in confusion. “How– ”Then realization hit her all at once. “Oh.” Slowly, she tilted her head up toward him.
Yunah groaned dramatically. “Fine.” She turns back into the room “But this isn’t over.” she swung her pointed finger around.
Her footsteps disappeared back downstairs.
Y/n was already staring down at her with an expression somewhere between embarrassment and suffering.
And suddenly neither of them found the joke nearly as funny anymore. Moka was directly in front of him now.
Close enough that he could feel the warmth radiating off her in the cramped space. Close enough that every tiny movement brushed against him.
Then she shifted again accidentally, her hand pressing against his chest to steady herself.
His jaw tightened immediately. “Moka.”
“What?”
“You really need to stop doing that.”
Her eyes flickered up innocently. “Doing what?”
His hand settled carefully against the wall beside her head. “If you keep touching me like that,” he said quietly, “this is going to become a problem.”
“How much of a problem.” She asked while slowly moving her hand up his chest.
“One we won’t be able to undo.”
For a second, neither of them moved. The air inside the closet had changed too much. The teasing was gone. The joke was gone.
All that remained was the feeling of his hands still resting on her waist and the way both of them suddenly couldn’t look anywhere except at each other.
Moka cleared her throat first. “We should probably go before Yunah comes back.”
“Yeah,” Y/n answered immediately.
Moka opened the closet door first and slipped back into the bedroom, smoothing down her clothes like that would somehow fix anything.
Y/n followed a second later, dragging a hand through his hair slowly. “Okay,” he muttered. “That never happened.”
“Right.”
“Still friends.”
“Obviously.” Neither of them sounded convincing.
From downstairs, loud cheering erupted followed by Yunah yelling at someone to stop standing on her coffee table.
Moka glanced toward the bedroom door. Then back at him.
Y/n noticed the exact moment something dangerous crossed her mind. “Moka,” he said cautiously.
Without answering, she walked over to the bedroom door. Locked it. The soft click echoed loudly through the room.
Y/n stared at her. “What are you doing?”
She turned around slowly, leaning lightly against the door now. “If I did that,” she said carefully, while pointing down, “then it’s only right to help you. No?”
His jaw tightened instantly. “Moka.” She pushed away from the door and took a step toward him. “You realize what will happen if you do this, right?” he asked quietly.
Every bit of teasing had disappeared from his voice now. Now he sounded serious.
But Moka only kept walking toward him, heartbeat pounding harder with every step. “I’m prepared to face the consequences.” That almost broke him right there.
Y/n laughed softly once, but there was no humor in it. “You have no idea what you’re saying.”
“Maybe I do.”
“Moka– ” She reached him then. Placed both hands lightly against his chest. And pushed him, slowly. Until the back of his knees hit the edge of the bed.
He sat down harder than he intended, eyes never leaving hers. “Moka,” he warned again, quieter this time.
But she only stepped closer, climbed carefully into his lap, straddling him before he could stop her.
The breath left his lungs completely. Her hands settled against his shoulders. He rested instinctively against her waist again.
This felt too natural for them. It shouldn't have.
“Are you?” she whispered.
He took a second before finally responding "Am I what?” He stared into her eyes.
She slowly leaned in close and whispered in his ear, “Are you prepared.” A small kiss on his ear “To face the consequences?”
Whatever control he’d been desperately holding onto snapped instantly. His hand slid up to cup her face and he kissed her like he’d been trying not to for far too long. All the tension from the last hour crashed into it at once.
Moka made the softest startled sound against his mouth before kissing him back with equal force, fingers tangling immediately into his hair. And somehow that made it worse, or better.
He genuinely couldn’t tell anymore.
All Y/n knew was that the second she kissed him back, every thought in his head disappeared completely. Her hands tightened slightly against him as he pulled her closer instinctively, like even this still wasn’t enough.
The kiss deepened again almost immediately. The kind of kiss that built itself from too much tension and too many moments they’d both pretended meant nothing.
Moka pulled back only barely, just enough to breathe. “You kiss like you’ve wanted to do that for a while,” she whispered.
Y/n stared at her for half a second before laughing softly under his breath. “Maybe I have.”
Her expression faltered. “You never said anything.” Her arms fell slightly off his shoulders.
“You never looked at me like this before tonight.”
“I didn’t know I could.”
That almost ruined him all over again. His forehead dropped briefly against hers as he exhaled shakily. “This is such a bad idea.”
“Probably.”
“We might regret this.” She was slowly leaning in again.
“Maybe.” Neither of them moved away.
Downstairs, Yunah was now screaming about someone breaking a lamp.
But upstairs, in the locked bedroom, Moka kissed him again before he could rethink any of it.
She looked down once, “Oh,” she whispered, one of her hands left his shoulder and placed itself on his chest. “So you are affected.”
He let out a short laugh, disbelieving. “You have no idea.”
Moka’s hand curled lightly in his shirt. His hand was now braced beside him. And somehow, now that they weren’t in danger of getting caught anymore, the silence felt even worse.
Her eyes flicked to his mouth for the briefest second. That tiny movement nearly ruined him.
"You started this, remember?" she whispered, her voice barely audible over the muffled music.
"Unitenionally but yeah.” He sucked in a breath “I know."
She dropped to her knees on the floor between his legs, her hands already working at his belt buckle.
Y/n's head fell back, a sharp exhale escaping him as she freed him from his jeans.
She took him into her mouth with a hunger that surprised them both, her tongue pressing flat against the underside as she sank down. Her fingers wrapped around what she couldn't take, stroking in rhythm with the bob of her head.
"Fuck, Moka– " She hummed around him in response, and his hand flew to her hair, gripping tight.
She went slow, then fast. The same thing, over and over again. She lifted her head up to take a breath but her hand never stopped.
When she finally pulled back, lips swollen and chin wet, she looked up at him through her lashes with a satisfied smirk. "Still friends?"
He hauled her up by the arms, crashing his mouth against hers. "I have to return the favor now. It's only right."
Her breath hitched against his lips but was masked over with a smirk. "Of course."
He pushed her down onto the rumpled sheets, following her. His mouth traced a path from her jaw to her collarbone, then lower, fingers hooking into the waistband of her jeans.
But she stopped him.
“What's wrong?” he asked, propping himself up on his elbows above her. "What are you thinking?"
Moka looked up at him, her chest rising and falling heavily. Then she reached down, her fingers on his chest before trailing lower. Her fingers found him again, already hard and slick with her spit.
"I'm thinking about how much I want you inside me."
She grabbed the back of his head and pulled him down, kissing him deep and sloppy, tongues tangling as her legs wrapped around his waist.
Y/n didn't need further invitation. He gripped the back of her thighs and hoisted her higher, adjusting her position so she was perched perfectly on the edge of him.
He leaned in, his lips leaving hers to trail a path of fire down her jawline to the sensitive curve of her neck.
Moka let out a sharp, strangled cry, her fingers digging into his shoulders as he slid into her in one slow, agonizingly perfect motion.
She was tight, so tight it felt like she was molding herself around him, and the sensation nearly drove him over the edge instantly.
He froze for a moment, his forehead pressed against hers, both of them panting, their hearts hammering against their ribs in a synchronized, frantic rhythm.
They both groaned into each other's mouths. The position gave him control, let him set a rhythm that had her arching off the mattress, her nails raking down his back, making marks.
"You're... so tight," he groaned, his voice sounding like it was being dragged through gravel. "God, Moka..."
"Don't stop," she gasped, her voice breaking. "Please, Y/n... more."
He began to move, starting with slow, deep thrusts that filled her completely. Each slide forward was a revelation, a physical claim that erased every boundary they had ever set.
Moka’s head tossed back, her eyes fluttering shut as she began to ride the rhythm, her hips tilting instinctively to meet every thrust.
The friction was electric. The heat was suffocating. Every time he thrusted, a small, needy whimper escaped her throat, and it only fueled his hunger.
The slow thrusts vanished, replaced by a raw urgency.
He began to drive into her with a relentless force, the bed creaking beneath them, the sounds of their bodies colliding filling the space where conversation used to be.
"Look at me," he commanded.
Moka opened her eyes, her gaze hazy and blown wide with pleasure. Seeing the sheer, unadulterated lust in his eyes broke something inside her.
She leaned forward, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck and pulling him down for another kiss, this one tasting of salt and desperation.
She wanted more.
As the tension built, she suddenly moved up, using her momentum to overpower him. With a surprised grunt, Y/n found himself pushed onto his back, the air leaving his lungs for a split second before Moka was straddling his lap again, her thighs gripping his waist.
She leaned forward slightly, her hands resting flat against his stomach, feeling the ripple of his abs beneath her palms. She looked down at him, "Can I ride you?" she asked with a certain look on her face.
Y/n’s eyes darkened, his hands sliding up to grip her hips to help her balance. "I would love that."
She reached back in between her legs to reach you and lined him with her. She sank down onto him with a gasp, and for a long moment neither of them moved, just stayed there.
Then she started to move.
Slow at first, rolling her hips in circles that had him gripping her thighs, his head thrown back against the pillow, like her just a couple minutes earlier.
She built speed, finding a rhythm that made the bedframe creak, that made his groans turn into something almost desperate.
"Like this?" she panted.
"Please don't stop." A smirk managed to appear on her face.
She began to move, her pace erratic and passionate, lifting herself and dropping back down with an intensity that had Y/n clutching the sheets.
They were both spiraling toward the edge again, the world outside the bedroom door completely forgotten.
Just as Moka began to peak, her breath hitching as she prepared to let go, a sharp, loud knock echoed through the room.
Knock knock knock.
"Hey. I know you're in there."
Yunah's voice cut through the post-orgasm haze like a bucket of ice water. Moka froze on top of him, eyes wide. He leaned up with his hand on her waist and the other holding him up.
"I can hear you breathing," Yunah called through the door. "And I definitely know what you've been doing. You're not slick."
Moka's lips curled into something dangerous. She looked down at Y/n, still buried inside her, and then back at the door.
She let out a moan. And I don't mean a small one. She let out a loud moan.
Yunah's fist banged against the wood. "You two are gross. Just you wait until you come out."
Moka pressed her forehead to Y/n's, both of them trying not to laugh.
"That was evil," he whispered.
"She started it."
She leaned back resting her hands on his knees. She tilted her head. “Now. Where were we?”
Y/n smirked and leaned back down and letting her continue.
————————————
The room stayed quiet for a long time after that. Like both of them were still trying to process what had happened.
At some point, Moka ended up curled against his chest while Y/n sat against the headboard, one arm loosely around her waist.
The party downstairs had slowly faded from loud chaos into distant muffled voices and occasional laughter.
Eventually, reality started creeping back in.
“We should probably go downstairs,” Moka mumbled into his shoulder.
“Probably.”
A few seconds passed. Then Y/n sighed softly. “Yunah already knows we're here. So we should probably get out or she’s never shutting up again.”
Moka snorted quietly. “She was already convinced before this.”
“She doesn’t know.” he breathed in and while breathing out “For sure.” (Please tell me you know this reference)
Still, they eventually forced themselves apart.
Moka avoided his eyes at first while fixing her clothes, brushing down imaginary wrinkles nervously.
Y/n dragged a hand through his hair for what had to be the tenth time.
The room felt different now. They felt different. They didn't feel like friends anymore, or like how they used to be.
“You okay?” he asked finally.
Moka looked over at him. The softness in his voice almost made her nervous again. “Yeah,” she answered quietly. “You?”
He laughed once under his breath. “Ask me later.” That made her smile despite herself.
By the time they unlocked the bedroom door, the house had gone noticeably quieter.
The music was gone entirely. And judging by the abandoned cups scattered around the upstairs hallway, most people had already left.
“Oh no,” Moka whispered immediately.
“What?”
“The party ended.”
Y/n stared at her. “That’s your concern right now?”
“Yes! Because now it looks worse!” He started laughing before they even made it downstairs.
The second they reached the bottom step, both of them froze. Yunah stood in the middle of the living room with her arms crossed.
Minju sat sprawled on the couch nearby eating chips like she’d been waiting for this exact moment all night.
The lamp in the corner was crooked. And Yunah looked furious.
“I found them,” Minju said calmly.
Yunah ignored Minju and glared at them. “Care to explain now?”
Moka and Y/n looked at each other instinctively. One glance. That was all it took. Because somehow, even now, they shared the exact same thought.
They turned back toward Yunah together. “What’s there to explain?” they both said at the same time.
Minju actually choked on her drink laughing.
Yunah stared at them in complete disbelief. “You disappeared upstairs for TWO HOURS.”
“So?” Y/n asked.
“So?!” Yunah repeated. “You came downstairs looking like THIS.”
Moka blinked innocently. “Like what?”
Yunah made an incoherent frustrated noise and pointed aggressively at Y/n. “His hair is a mess!”
“I spilled my drink down and whipped my mouth with my sleeve.”
“You don’t have sleeves.”
Moka paused, then let out a small laugh “Oh yeah.”
Minju lost it laughing again.
“Oh my god,” Yunah whispered, horrified. “Something actually happened.”
“Nothing happened,” Y/n said smoothly.
“YOU WERE GONE FOR TWO HOURS.”
“We lost track of time.”
“In her room?!”
“It was a very interesting conversation,” Moka added.
Yunah looked seconds away from collapse. Meanwhile Minju was enjoying this entirely too much. “You know,” she said thoughtfully, “I told you to stop fake flirting.”
Moka’s confidence faltered for half a second.
Y/n noticed immediately.
So did Minju. “Oh my god,” Minju said slowly, sitting up straighter. “Wait.”
Yunah narrowed her eyes dangerously. “Why did you both go quiet?”
“No reason,” Moka answered too fast.
“Moka.”
“What?”
Yunah pointed between them again. “Why are you standing so far apart right now?” Both of them froze.
At some point while walking downstairs, they’d intentionally left a suspicious amount of space between each other.
Which, ironically, made them look guiltier than ever.
Minju covered her face with one hand. “You idiots finally caught feelings.”
“We did not,” Y/n said immediately.
Moka nodded too quickly. “Yeah exactly.”
Yunah stared at them. Then at the way Y/n’s eyes automatically flicked toward Moka when she spoke.
Then at the way Moka kept avoiding looking at him for too long.
Her jaw dropped slowly. “Oh my god,” she whispered.
word count: ~6.1k
Characters: ITZY Shin Ryujin, aespa Karina
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[FLASHBACK - THE NIGHT BEFORE: AEWOL BEACH RESORT RAVE]
The Aewol Beach Resort was Jeju's worst-kept secret. By day, it was a pristine, upscale paradise of white sand beaches and infinity pools. By night - especially during festival season - it transformed into the K-entertainment industry's unofficial fuck palace. Young idols, actors, musicians, and the ultra-rich offspring of chaebols all descended on the place, and what happened there was supposed to stay there. But rumors always leaked. They always did.
The beach rave that night was in full swing - a pop-up EDM festival with a stage built right on the sand, strobe lights cutting through the darkness, and bass so heavy you could feel it in your chest. Tonight's headliners were BLACKPINK, and half the industry had shown up just to watch them own the stage. Four women in leather, mesh, and skin-baring confidence, moving like they'd conquered the world and were just deciding what to burn next. They were performing "Shut Down," and the message was unmistakable: We own this. Our bodies, our rules, our empire.
Ryujin watched from the edge of the crowd, dressed to kill in a neon green sports bra that barely contained her soft B-cups, black booty shorts that rode up high enough to show the curve of her ass, and chunky platform sneakers. Her hair was wild, her eyeliner smudged in that effortlessly cool way, and she radiated pure, chaotic energy. She'd learned half their choreography just from watching fancams - Yuna might be ITZY's self-proclaimed president of the Blink fan club, but Ryujin was absolutely the vice president, and she wore that shit like a badge of honor. This was what she understood. Female empowerment meant doing whatever the fuck you wanted - wearing what you wanted, fucking who you wanted, refusing to apologize for any of it. BLACKPINK had blazed the world on that philosophy, and Ryujin had internalized it like gospel.
What she missed - what she'd always missed - was the part where empowerment wasn't just about taking power; it was about knowing when you were giving it away.
Beside her, Karina looked like she'd been Photoshopped into reality. The aespa leader wore a white triangle bikini top under a sheer mesh crop top, paired with high-waisted white denim shorts so tight they might as well have been painted on. Her tits - those legendary, gravity-defying D-cups that had launched thousands of fan edits - were practically spilling out, and every man within a hundred-meter radius was openly staring.
"I hate this," Karina muttered, her arms instinctively crossing over her chest as they pushed through the crowd toward the dance floor. "Everyone's staring."
"Because you look like a goddamn cheat code come to life," Ryujin laughed, grabbing her wrist and pulling her forward. "Relax, Jimin-ah. You're supposed to be having fun. Forgetting about that dickhead ex of yours."
Karina's jaw tightened at the mention of Lee Jae-wook. Three months. It had been three months since they'd broken up, and she was still sexually frustrated as hell. He'd been the only guy who could actually make her cum - every other man since fell into one of two categories: the ones who finished in under a minute because touching her was too overwhelming, and the ones who lasted but fucked her like she was a conquest to brag about, not a woman to satisfy. Either way, she was left high, dry, and furious.
"I'm trying," Karina said through gritted teeth. "But I'm telling you, they're all the same. They either see me, get inside, and finish before I even feel anything, or they just use me for their own ego. No one actually gives a shit if I get off." She stopped, her voice tight. "It's fucking humiliating."
"Then stop fucking all these idol and celebrity boys," Ryujin replied, yelling over the bass, bouncing to the beat as they reached the edge of the mosh pit. "They're all overrated anyway. Get yourself a normal guy. Someone who'll actually put in effort instead of nutting the second they get a look at your tits."
Before Karina could respond, a group of guys pushed their way through the crowd - five of them, tall, athletic, clearly college-aged. The one in front, broad-shouldered with a jawline that could cut glass, locked eyes with Karina and his face lit up like he'd just won the lottery.
"Holy shit," he breathed, elbowing his buddy. "Is that Karina? From aespa?"
His friends immediately started whooping and shoving each other to get a better look, their eyes ping-ponging between Karina's face and her tits.
Karina felt it immediately - that familiar split. The part of her that wanted to roll her eyes and walk away. And the part that was so desperate, so frustrated, that even this stupid frat-boy attention felt like something.
Get yourself a normal guy.
Ryujin's advice rattled around her skull, reframing what she was seeing. These weren't idols. They weren't polished, media-trained, or starstruck into uselessness. They were just... guys. Normal guys. The kind Ryujin probably meant. The broad-shouldered one was still staring, and Karina felt her desperation sharpen into something like hope. Maybe Ryujin understood something she didn't. Maybe chaos was the only way forward.
Ryujin, meanwhile, had already mentally undressed all five of them. Where Karina saw "maybe this could work," Ryujin saw fresh meat - gym-rat bodies, that cocky frat-boy energy, and the kind of dumb confidence that made them easy to manipulate and even easier to ride into oblivion. She spotted a Yonsei University logo on one of their tank tops.
"Yonsei boys?" she called out, stepping forward with a grin, like a shark spotting blood in the water.
"Yeah!" the broad-shouldered one - Minjae, his name tag read - said, though his eyes were still glued to Karina. "We're here for the week. Frat trip. Are you really -"
"Yup, that's Karina. From aespa," Ryujin said, stepping between them like she owned the space. "And I'm Ryujin. From ITZY. You've heard of us, yeah?" The way she said it made it clear there was only one right answer, but she didn't wait for one anyway. "You boys wanna dance or just stand there looking stupid?"
"Fuck yes," one of them breathed, and just like that, Ryujin had them.
They merged into the mosh pit together, bodies pressed close in the chaos of bouncing, sweating humanity. The guys tried to get handsy with Karina - one reaching for her waist, another "accidentally" brushing against her ass - but she batted their hands away with icy precision, her expression haughty and untouchable even as the crowd threatened to swallow her whole.
But Ryujin caught it - the way Karina's lips twitched when one of them whispered something in her ear. The way she didn't move away when Minjae's hand lingered on her hip a second too long. She was testing the water. Seeing if any of them might be different.
In the strobing darkness, Karina looked like she was drowning in slow motion - still perfect, still untouchable, but something desperate flickering behind the mask every time the lights hit her face.
Ryujin, meanwhile, was in her element - moving with the crowd like she’d been born in strobe light and bass drops, every touch fueling her instead of draining her. She ground against all of them indiscriminately, her ass pressing into bulges, her hands wandering over abs and chests. The music was deafening, the crowd a writhing mass, and she let herself dissolve into it - no thoughts, just sensation. Time stretched and compressed. One second she was facing the stage, the next she was sandwiched between two bodies, the next she was spinning, laughing, alive in a way nothing else made her feel. The world reduced to heat and bass and skin and the beautiful, blissful emptiness of not having to be anything but this.
One of them - Jihoon, a lean swimmer type with sharp features - pulled her close, his hand sliding down to grip her ass through her shorts.
"Bold move," she whispered in his ear, her own hand reaching back to palm the growing bulge in his swim trunks.
"You're soaked," he groaned, and Ryujin realized his fingers had slipped under the leg of her shorts, finding her bare, unshaved pussy. No panties. Of course.
She grinned, pressing back harder, and in the chaos of the mosh pit - bodies everywhere, lights flashing, bass pounding through her chest - she reached down and yanked her shorts aside just enough to guide his cock to her entrance.
He was already hard, already leaking, and he slid into her with a grunt of shock and pleasure. Her pussy, thick-lipped and perpetually wet, swallowed him easily, and she felt every inch as he bottomed out.
"Fuck," Jihoon gasped, his other hand coming up to wrap around her throat - not squeezing, just holding.
She started grinding, fucking him standing up in the middle of the crowd, her back to his chest, his hand on her throat, his cock buried deep. The music drowned out everything else. No one around them seemed to notice - or if they did, they didn't care. This was Aewol. This was what happened here.
The whole thing felt liminal, dreamlike - like the rave had swallowed her whole and she was just another pulse inside its throat, another body in the crowd, another heartbeat in the chaos. Ryujin closed her eyes and let herself ride the wave.
Time warped. Sound blurred. Bodies weren’t people anymore; they were heat and motion and distraction, and she clung to that dissociation because it meant she didn’t have to feel anything else.
He lasted maybe ninety seconds before she felt him tense, his grip on her throat tightening as he came, flooding her with heat. She felt it leak down her thighs immediately, soaking into her shorts, but she just kept grinding, milking every last drop before pulling forward and letting his softening cock slip out.
Jihoon looked dazed, like he'd been hit by a truck. "Holy shit. That was -"
"Give me your number," Ryujin said, turning to face him with a wicked grin.
He fumbled for his phone with shaking hands.
Across the pit, Karina had watched the whole thing out of the corner of her eye. Karina watched, something twisting low in her stomach - envy, resentment, longing, she couldn’t tell.
Ryujin drowned so beautifully.
Karina only seemed to sink.
But part of her wondered what it would feel like to just... let go like that.
***
Later, after the rave had died down and they were walking back along the beach, Karina finally broke the silence.
"You fucked him." Not a question. "In the middle of everyone."
"Yup." Ryujin's grin was unrepentant. "Came in like a minute. It was great."
Karina shook her head, but there was a hint of something - not quite a smile, but close. "You're insane."
"And you're still worked up," Ryujin shot back. "Which is why you should come with me after dinner."
Karina stopped walking. "Where?"
"Jihoon gave me their address. They're staying like five villas down. Come on, Jimin-ah. Let's see if any of them can actually handle you."
"Ryu -"
"What's the worst that happens? They disappoint you?" Ryujin grabbed her hand. "At least you tried something. Come on, I'll buy you breakfast for a week."
Karina stared at her for a long moment. Three months. Three months of disappointing hookups, of guys who came too fast, of her own body refusing to cooperate. Maybe Ryujin was right. Maybe she just needed to stop overthinking it.
"Fine," she said finally. "But when this turns into a disaster, you're paying."
"Deal."
***
[LATER THAT NIGHT]
"I don't know," Karina said as they approached the villa. Not because she was uncomfortable with the idea - she'd done plenty of wild shit with Jae-wook. "I just don't think more guys is the solution when one guy can't even handle me."
"That's exactly why we need more," Ryujin countered. "If one guy disappoints you in thirty seconds, at least with five you've got better odds. Law of averages, right?."
She was. Because what else was she going to do? Go back to the resort and spend another night trying to get herself off and failing? At least this was something different. At least she was trying.
"Fine," she said. "But if this doesn't work -"
"It'll work," Ryujin said confidently. "Trust."
***
The frat boys' villa was a chaotic mess of empty soju bottles, discarded clothes, and the unmistakable musk of young men living without supervision. When Ryujin and Karina walked in, all five guys nearly tripped over themselves.
"Holy shit, you actually came," Minjae breathed, his eyes locked on Karina like she was a religious vision.
"Okay, boys, listen up," Ryujin announced, walking in like she owned the place. She gestured to Karina with a grin. "This is Karina. She hasn't been fucked properly since her ex dumped her three months ago, and she needs someone who can actually last longer than an Instagram reel. Think any of you are up for it?"
The guys looked at each other, then back at Karina, their eyes practically bulging out of their heads.
"We're here to see if you're worth our time," Karina said coolly, though Ryujin could see the faint flush on her cheeks. "So let's make this quick."
What followed was, by Karina's standards, an absolute disaster.
She'd stripped methodically, peeling off her shorts and bikini top with clinical precision, and laid back on the villa's leather couch, spreading her long legs wide. Her pussy was a work of art - completely bare, outer lips plump and glistening, inner lips a delicate pink that peeked out invitingly. Her clit was already swollen, a prominent pearl at the apex of her slit.
The boys went completely catatonic, five jaws slack like they'd just witnessed the second coming. Taehyun actually made a noise - something between a gasp and a dying computer fan.
"Well?" she said, her voice as cold as her bare skin suddenly felt under their collective stare. "Are you going to stand there drooling or actually do something?"
Minjae went first. He positioned himself between her legs, and despite her cool exterior, Karina felt a flutter of anticipation. Maybe this would be it. Maybe he'd be the one to finally satisfy her. She closed her eyes in anticipation.
He slid into her perfect, tight pussy, and she exhaled softly, her hips tilting to meet him. The first thrust felt... good. Actually good. The stretch, the fullness, the heat of him inside her - it had been so long since she'd felt this without immediate disappointment. Her hand moved between her legs, fingers finding her clit, rubbing in slow circles as she tried to build on this feeling.
Time seemed to slow. She could feel every inch of him, the way her walls gripped his shaft, the pressure building somewhere deep in her core. This was it. Finally. Her breathing quickened, her fingers moved faster, her other hand gripped his shoulder -
And then he groaned like he'd been shot and -
Done.
Time snapped back. Eight seconds. Eight fucking seconds. He was pulling out before her brain even registered he'd finished.
He pulled out, looking sheepish, and Karina felt something crack inside her chest - not anger yet, just profound disappointment. She'd been so close to feeling something.
She rolled her eyes, removing her hand from her clit. "Next."
As Minjae stepped away, still catching his breath, Ryujin was already moving. She grabbed his wrist before he could fully retreat. "Come here. You're not done yet."
She pulled him to the opposite couch, pushing him down. "Let's see if we can get you ready for round two."
"I just - I don't think I can -" Minjae started, but Ryujin was already dropping to her knees between his legs.
"Trust me," she said with a wicked grin, and took his softening, cum-slicked cock into her mouth.
Jihoon was second. Karina tried again - she had to try again. She repositioned herself, wrapped her legs around his waist, and as he slid into her, she immediately went back to work on her clit. Maybe if she worked fast enough, timed it right, she could cum before he did.
He started thrusting - a decent rhythm, actually - and Karina felt that flicker of hope reignite. Yes. This. She rubbed her clit faster, her breath coming in short gasps, her pussy clenching around him. The pleasure was building. That familiar coil tightening in her lower belly. She could feel it approaching, that edge she'd been chasing for three fucking months. Finally. Almost. Almost -
From across the room, Ryujin's voice called out: "Slower! Focus on her, not yourself!"
But Jihoon wasn't listening.
Twelve seconds. He exploded inside her with a strangled moan.
"No - wait - don't you fucking -" Karina's gasped, her hand still working frantically, trying to hold onto that feeling - but it was already gone. The loss of his rhythm, the sudden stillness - it left her bubbling orgasm rapidly fading away.
He stumbled away, his face flushed red with embarrassment, leaving her right on the edge with nowhere to go.
"You're joking." Her voice was flat, deadly calm. She wanted to throw something. The disappointment was worse this time because she'd been so close. So fucking close. "Next."
Her hand stayed between her legs, rubbing desperately, trying to salvage what was left of that almost-orgasm, but it was like trying to catch smoke.
"My turn," Ryujin announced cheerfully, grabbing Jihoon and pulling him to her couch. She pushed him down next to Minjae - who was now fully hard again, his cock standing at attention from Ryujin's expert mouth work. "You too. Get comfortable."
She took Jihoon into her mouth while her hand wrapped around Minjae's recovered erection, stroking him. Two guys, both ready or getting ready, while Karina lay frustrated on the other couch.
The third guy - Seungho, a stocky weightlifter type - slid into her. His thick fingers immediately her clit, rubbing it hard like he was trying to polish a stubborn stain. The pressure was too much, too rough, almost painful.
"Ow - wait -" Karina gasped, moving her hand to push his away.
"Gentle!" Ryujin called out, pulling off Jihoon's cock briefly. "Jesus, she's not a -"
But Seungho was already cumming, his whole body tensing. Six seconds. He didn't even get fully seated before he was filling her, adding his load to the growing pool inside her.
He pulled out, flexing slightly like he'd just completed a successful lift.
Karina’s clit was throbbing - and not in a good way. “This can’t be real,” she muttered, jaw tightening as another useless wave of frustration rolled through her.
“Are you all - ?”
She cut herself off. It didn’t matter.
“Next,” she said, the word landing flat and exhausted, like she was stamping a form she’d stopped reading.
As Seungho stumbled away, Ryujin had apparently had enough of just prep work. She positioned herself over Minjae's lap, her back to Karina, and sank down onto his cock with a long, satisfied moan.
"Oh fuck yes," she breathed. "That's it -"
The same guy who'd lasted eight seconds with Karina was now inside Ryujin, and from the look on his face, he was determined to last longer this time.
"Send him over when you're done!" Ryujin called to Karina, already starting to ride Minjae while her hand continued stroking Jihoon.
The fourth guy - Taehyun, a lean soccer player with nervous energy - approached hesitantly. He slid into her, and immediately his hands shot up to grab her breasts. Squeezed. Wrong pressure. Wrong angle. Tried to pinch her nipples - missed completely. It was as if he was testing fruit at a market.
For a brief moment, Karina's eyes fluttered closed, a small sound escaping her throat - hope. Finally, someone was trying to touch her, to make her feel something -
But then his technique - or complete lack thereof - registered, and her eyes opened again, the hope dying.
"Softer," she breathed, trying to guide him. "Circles, not -" But her words evaporated into nothing. He was too focused on his own fumbling, lost in nervous energy, groping without direction. He'd moved from testing fruit to having no idea what aisle he was even in, just grabbing things at random, hoping something would work.
Behind her, she could hear Ryujin moaning loudly, the sound of skin slapping against skin. "Yes, just like that - don't stop -"
Taehyun lasted fifteen seconds, managing a few awkward thrusts before his rhythm broke entirely and he came with a strangled groan, pulling out quickly, his hands finally releasing her breasts.
Karina lay there for a moment, her chest rising and falling, a look of profound disappointment on her face. She glanced down at her chest - red marks from his feckless grabbing already blooming across her perfect skin, finger-shaped bruises forming where he'd squeezed too hard. She'd actually wanted that to work. She'd wanted him to touch her right, to make her feel something, anything.
"Next," she said quietly. The word came out smaller, less sharp. Defeated.
As Taehyun approached Ryujin's couch, she called out without breaking her rhythm on Minjae: "Get in line, baby. Everyone gets a turn."
The last guy - Donghyun, a lanky basketball player - positioned himself between her legs with what he probably thought was confidence. He slid in and immediately started jackhammering, his hips pistoning in the most gawky, mechanical way possible.
Karina's massive tits bounced wildly with each thrust - up and down, up and down - but there was nothing erotic about it. It was uncomfortable - almost painful - her breasts moving in a way that felt more like being jostled on a bus than anything pleasurable. He wasn't even looking at her face, just staring at her bouncing chest with his mouth open like he was watching a nature documentary.
She tried to adjust, to find some angle that might feel good, but he just kept going at the same awful rhythm - fast, hard, with zero technique or awareness of what he was doing to her body.
"Could you -" she started, but he was in his own world entirely, eyes glazed, just hammering away.
From Ryujin's couch came another loud moan. "Oh god, yes - right there -"
Twenty-three seconds of the worst jackhammering she'd ever experienced.
Then - done. Wet squelch. Pull out. The last spurts of his cum dripping onto her already-soaked thighs.
He stepped back, looking pleased with himself, like he'd accomplished something.
Karina stared at the ceiling, her expression completely blank now. Past hope. Past exasperation. Past frustration. Past disappointment. Just... empty.
By the time Donghyun made his way over to Ryujin's area, she had fully rotated to Jihoon, riding him while Minjae recovered and Seungho was getting hard in her hand. She was in full multitasking mode now, and the sounds of her pleasure - genuine, enthusiastic, satisfied - filled the villa.
"Alright boys," Ryujin announced after making Jihoon cum inside her. She positioned herself on her back, spreading her legs wide, all five guys now circling her couch. "Let's do this properly. All of you. Right now."
And then she proceeded to take all five of them in rotation - one in her pussy, one in her mouth, the others jerking off onto her tits, her stomach, her face. She was moaning, screaming, completely lost in the sensation of being used.
The guys were eating it up. Jihoon and Minjae were doing a ridiculous secret handshake over Ryujin's body after switching positions, grinning like idiots.
"Bro," Donghyun whispered to Seungho, loud enough for Karina to hear, "we just hit Karina. Like, the Karina." The way he said her name - there was weight to it. Satisfaction. Like he'd checked off a bucket list item he never thought he'd get.
"Dude, I busted in like ten seconds but I don't even care." Seungho was practically vibrating with excitement. "Her body is unreal. Tightest pussy I've ever felt. And her tits -" He let out a low wolf whistle, then shot a quick glance back at where Karina stood. The look lingered for half a second - appreciative, triumphant, like he was admiring a prize he'd already won. "SM really doesn't fuck around with their visuals."
They high-fived, hard and loud, the sound echoing through the room. Taehyun joined in, still riding the high despite finishing in fifteen seconds. "My teammates are never gonna believe this shit," he muttered, grinning. "Fucking Karina." He said it like it was a flex, which it was.
They high-fived, hard and loud, the sound echoing through the room.
Karina stood there by the couch, cum leaking out of her in thick globs, and watched. The same guys who'd failed so spectacularly with her were now lasting, performing, satisfying Ryujin like it was easy.
She caught Donghyun's eye for a moment - he gave her this little smirk, like they shared a secret now. Except they didn't. He thought he knew something about her. Thought he'd gotten something from her.
He had no fucking idea.
She sat back down - away from the mess - and started furiously rubbing her clit, her movements angry, desperate.
"This is so fucking degrading," she muttered, her voice tight. "I'm literally just -" She inhaled sharply as her fingers found the right spot. "Just a glorified cum dump for guys who can't last thirty seconds."
Ryujin, mid-thrust with Jihoon again, glanced over and grinned breathlessly. "Jimin-ah - loosen up! You're too in your head!"
"You know what?" Karina's voice cracked slightly, anger bleeding into something more vulnerable. "I don't know if I should scream or just evaporate right now."
She kept rubbing, chasing an orgasm that felt miles away, her face flushed not with pleasure but with humiliation and rage.
For thirty minutes, she tried. She tried everything. Different angles, different speeds, different pressure. But her pussy was absolutely flooded with cum - five different loads mixed together, leaking out constantly and coating everything. Her fingers kept slipping off her clit, unable to get proper friction through the slick mess. Every time she thought she might be getting somewhere, more cum would leak out and ruin it.
Meanwhile, Ryujin was having the time of her life. All five guys cycled through her again and again - some recovering faster than others, but Ryujin's expert hands and mouth kept them in rotation. The sounds coming from that couch were obscene: wet slapping, male groans, and Ryujin's enthusiastic moaning that never seemed to stop.
Maybe Ryujin's way did work. Maybe it worked beautifully. Just... not on Karina. Not when she felt hollow instead of hungry.
Karina's hand cramped. Her clit was sore from rubbing. Her thighs were sticky with drying cum. And she still hadn't come - not even close.
She finally looked down at herself: cum dripping out of her pussy in thick globs, pooling beneath her on the leather, her inner thighs completely coated, even her fingers slippery and useless. She was a mess. A completely unsatisfied, humiliated mess.
Where Ryujin thrived in chaos, Karina drowned in it. That was the difference. That was the tragedy.
"That's it," she said flatly, sitting up. More cum dripped onto the floor. "I'm done. Sex is cancelled. Men are cancelled. My entire life is cancelled." She grabbed a discarded tank top - she didn't even know whose - and started wiping herself off with sharp, angry movements. "I'm going back to take a very long, very judgmental shower."
Minjae, still catching his breath after Ryujin had thoroughly milked him dry for the second time, looked over from where Ryujin lay sprawled and satisfied to where Karina sat rigid with frustration. He tried one more time. "Hey, I could try again with you if you want -"
Karina's head snapped toward him, her eyes cold. "Seriously?" Her voice was ice. "You think I'm signing up for overtime disappointment? You lasted eight seconds the first time. Eight. What makes you think round two would be any better?"
"I just thought -"
"Don't." She stood, her legs slightly shaky, cum still dripping down her inner thighs. "Don't think. Just - just sit there and contemplate your life choices while I try to salvage what's left of my dignity."
On the opposite couch, Ryujin was a completely different story. She was sprawled out like a starfish, her body absolutely destroyed in the best possible way. Cum covered every inch of her - her face, her tits, her stomach, her thighs. It was in her hair, dripping off her chin, pooling in her belly button. Her pussy was red and swollen from being fucked multiple times, and she had this blissed-out, almost drunk expression on her face.
"Holy shit," she breathed, laughing. "That was so good. Genuinely top-tier."
Karina glared at her. "Don't."
"What?" Ryujin sat up slightly, wiping cum off her cheek and licking her fingers clean. "I'm just saying -"
"Don't you dare." Karina's voice was sharp enough to cut glass. "Say one word about how good your night was and I'm leaving your ass here."
Ryujin held up her hands in surrender, but she was still grinning. She knew better than to push Karina when she was like this.
Karina found her denim shorts crumpled in a corner and pulled them on with jerky movements, not bothering to clean herself properly first. The cum soaking her thighs immediately bled through the fabric, creating dark wet patches, but she didn't care. She grabbed her mesh crop top and bikini top, threw them on without adjusting them properly. Her tits were barely contained, one side of the bikini askew, but she was too angry to fix it.
She caught sight of herself in a mirror on the wall and almost laughed. This was possibly the least put-together she'd looked in years. Her hair - usually perfectly styled - was a mess, tangled and sweaty. Her makeup was smudged, mascara running slightly from when she'd furiously rubbed her eyes in frustration. Her shorts were visibly stained. She looked like exactly what she was: a girl who'd just been filled with five loads of cum and hadn't gotten off once.
SM's golden girl, she thought bitterly, staring at the streak of mascara on her cheek. aespa's perfect visual.
And here she was, about to do a walk of shame from a frat villa at midnight with cum soaking through her shorts.
If only the fans could see me now. She adjusted one crooked bikini cup, just for it to pop out again immediately. Yeah. Real goddess behavior, Jimin.
The irony wasn't lost on her. If anything, it made the whole night feel even more pathetic.
“God,” she muttered under her breath, not even sure who she was talking to. “I’m not even asking for much. Just one man - one - who doesn’t treat my pussy like a fucking timed event.”
She let out a humorless laugh, the sound small and tired. “Apparently that’s too advanced.”
Ryujin was taking her time cleaning up, using wet wipes from her bag to wipe down her body with lazy, satisfied movements. Unlike Karina's sharp, angry gestures, Ryujin moved like a cat after a good meal - slow, content, completely unbothered.
She pulled her booty shorts back on, but they were soaked with cum and her juices from earlier. Her neon green sports bra was similarly destroyed, but she threw it on anyway. Her hair was an absolute disaster - tangled, matted with dried cum in some spots - so she just pulled it into a messy bun and called it good enough.
"Ready?" Ryujin asked, standing and stretching. Her thighs were shaking slightly, her walk just a bit bowlegged from being thoroughly used.
"I've been ready for thirty minutes," Karina snapped. "While you were over there having the time of your life, I was being used as a human fleshlight."
They stumbled out of the villa into the pre-dawn darkness, the beach quiet except for the sound of waves and crickets. The rave had long since ended, the last stragglers heading home or passing out in the sand.
***
Karina walked stiffly, her legs pressed together slightly, trying to keep the cum from leaking down her thighs too obviously. Every step was a reminder of her humiliation - she could feel it sloshing inside her, five different guys' loads mixed together, and not one of them had made her feel anything close to satisfaction.
She couldn't help thinking about how ridiculous she must look.
It was probably the only time in her whole career where she actually resembled the fantasies men had about her. Ruined, messy, used - except none of it had been satisfying. None of it had felt powerful. Just... empty.
"SM should revoke my concept card for this," she muttered, wiping a smear of dried cum from her thigh. "Not exactly elegant fairy energy when you're leaking regret onto the sand."
Ryujin, meanwhile, walked with a slight swagger despite the bowlegged gait, completely unbothered by the fact that she was covered in dried cum and looked like she'd been through a war.
After a long stretch of silence, Ryujin glanced over at Karina. "Hey," she said, her voice actually gentle for once. "You okay?"
"Am I okay?" Karina barked a laugh, humorless and sharp. "Ryu, I just had five guys nut faster than that damn bass drop at the rave. I didn't even warm up. I didn't break a sweat."
She stopped walking, turning to face her friend. Her voice cracked slightly, the anger giving way to something more vulnerable. "I don't know what's wrong with me. Is this my life now? Is this what I've been reduced to?"
She kept her eyes fixed on the horizon, jaw tight, but as she spoke, a single tear escaped - sliding down her cheek before she could stop it.
She wiped it away furiously, like it had personally offended her. "Fuck."
"Jimin-ah -" Ryujin started, her voice softer than usual.
"Don't." Karina's voice was sharp, defensive. She took a breath, steadying herself. "Just - don't be nice to me right now. I can't handle that."
Ryujin nodded, giving her space, but didn't look away.
After a moment, Karina's shoulders sagged slightly. "What is wrong with me?" The question came out so small, so unlike her usually radiating confidence, that it hung in the air between them.
Ryujin was quiet for a moment, then gave Karina's breast a playful slap that made it jiggle, breaking the tension. "Nothing’s wrong with you, dumbass," she said, gently than before. "You’re too hot for your own good. Boys just... glitch when they look at you."
She nudged her shoulder. “Doesn’t mean you’re broken. It just means they are.”
Karina looked down at her chest - still marked from Taehyun's clumsy grabbing - then back up at Ryujin. Despite everything, she felt the corner of her mouth twitch. "Hey - don’t smack the merch. It’s suffered enough today."
"Fair," Ryujin said with a grin.
"So now what?" Karina's voice was still laced with roughness. "Tell me - where the hell do we find a guy who won’t explode the second he’s in me? Because I'm running out of options and patience."
"We'll figure it out," Ryujin said firmly. "We just need to find you a man actually built for this." She paused, kicking at the sand. "You know, back at the dorms, I keep noticing Yeji sneaking out to see her secret man. You know the one. And when she comes back?" Ryujin shook her head. "It's different. Not her usual post-hookup energy. She's... satisfied in a way I've never seen before. Relaxed. Glowing. Happy. It’s weird, especially for her."
Karina glanced over, something flickering in her expression - curiosity, maybe. "She's still keeping him secret?"
"Yeah. Super protective about this one." Ryujin's expression shifted slightly - like she knew more than she was saying but respected the boundary. "But my point is - guys like that exist. Someone who can actually handle us. We just gotta find yours."
They started walking again, the ITZY villa coming into view in the distance.
"For what it's worth, K," Ryujin said after a while, "you still look hot. Like, objectively. Even covered in disappointment."
Despite everything, Karina felt her lips twitch again. "Shut up."
"For real though. You're giving 'devastatingly beautiful disaster' energy. It's a look."
"I hate you."
"No, you don't."
Karina sighed, adjusting her bikini top for the third time - tugging the small triangles upward in a futile attempt at modesty. But the movement only served to push her heavy breasts up and together, forcing even more pale underboob to spill out from beneath the inadequate fabric. The white material cut into the soft flesh, creating an obscene contrast between covered and exposed skin that somehow made her look even more disheveled and slovenly.
"No. I don't." She paused, then added quietly, almost smiling, "But seriously, please don't tell Aeri. She'll turn it into a comedy special."
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Author’s Note
Chapter 7 has lived more lives than almost any part of this series. It started as a tiny flashback inside what is now Chapter 8 - meant simply to introduce Ryujin properly and explain why she vanished the next morning (her manager dragging her to the clinic at dawn). But the scene refused to stay small. First it became an interlude, then it demanded to become its own chapter.
This is the first time Minho disappears from the page, and the story takes a breath from the poolside madness to let Ryujin and Karina take over. It’s also the first moment I pushed into a more experimental style - dreamlike, liminal, a little dissociated. The rave moves around Ryujin in long, blurred breaths - a surreal tide of sensation - while the frat villa snaps into harsh, jarring staccato: each failure, each touch, each disappointment arriving like a beat Karina can’t escape. A rave where time bends, then a villa where everything feels too sharp, too bright, or too unreal.
The chapter is structured as a duet: two girls living the same night, one floating, one sinking. Ryujin thrives in chaos and recklessness; Karina quietly drowns in it and feels abandoned. Even the Yonsei boys accidentally became a metaphor - Karina moving through the five stages of grief, not over a breakup, but over her own expectations of pleasure and control.
It’s messy, unhinged, and tragic in a funny way and funny in a tragic way. But it’s also the moment the story expands beyond Minho’s POV and becomes a whole universe with moving parts he hasn’t even seen yet.
Word Count: 11.4k
Genre: Poly, Romance, Fluff with Smut
The first hour of the drive was quiet. Not peaceful quiet. Company-mandated quiet.
There was a difference.
Jihyo had said assigned silence until the first checkpoint, and somehow, by sheer force of Park Jihyo existing, everyone had obeyed.
Mostly.
Ryujin had obeyed in spirit, which meant she had not spoken but had communicated several criminal thoughts through facial expressions alone.
Yuna had lasted eleven minutes before silently writing activity notes in her vacation notebook with the intensity of a woman planning a government program.
Lia had watched her do it, sighed once, and taken the pen away twice.
Chaeryeong had spent most of the drive making sure the snack bags were evenly distributed, which became less about logistics and more about survival once Momo’s van pulled beside ours at the first stop and Momo looked through the tinted window with terrifying food awareness.
Yeji sat beside me. Her hand had found mine ten minutes after we left the parking level. No one commented. That was how I knew they were tired. Or plotting. Possibly both… definitely both.
By the second hour, the silence order had dissolved into low conversation.
By the third, Ryujin had fallen asleep with sunglasses still on, which somehow made her look more suspicious.
By the fourth, Yuna had renamed the retreat six times.
By the fifth, Lia had threatened to throw the notebook out of the window if the phrase “Hostile Wellness” appeared one more time.
“It’s not a title anymore,” Yuna protested from the back.
“It is on the page.”
“It’s a concept.”
“It’s a felony with spa access,” Lia said.
Ryujin, without opening her eyes, raised one hand “I vote felony with spa access.”
“No one asked you,” Yeji said.
“I live here emotionally.”
“You live everywhere emotionally,” Chaeryeong murmured.
Ryujin opened one eye “That was sharp.”
Chaeryeong immediately looked down “Sorry.”
“No, keep going. I like vacation Chaeryeong.”
Chaeryeong hid behind a snack bag. I looked toward Yeji. She was trying not to smile. I noticed. Of course I noticed. She noticed me noticing “Don’t,” she said.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You were about to.”
“I was about to say you look happy.”
Her expression softened before she could stop it. Then she looked out the window “I am.”
That stayed with me longer than it should have.
Outside, the city had thinned into long roads, guarded turns, and stretches of coast that looked too clean to be casual. Eventually, the vans turned away from the public highway and onto a private access road lined with tall trees and security posts so discreet they looked decorative until you noticed the cameras. Yuna leaned forward “Are we arriving or being abducted luxuriously?”
“Both can be true,” Ryujin said.
Lia looked out the window “This is… really private.”
Chaeryeong shifted closer to the glass “There are no other cars.”
“Good,” I said.
Yeji looked at me “That sounded expensive.”
“Privacy usually does.”
“That did not make me feel better.”
“It was not meant to.”
The first gate opened before our vans fully stopped. Then the second. Then a third, hidden behind a curve of palm trees and stone walls. By the time the resort finally appeared, even Ryujin sat up properly. The place did not look like a hotel. It looked like someone had taken a private beach, erased the rest of the world from around it, and built a quiet kingdom along the water.
White villas sat apart from each other along the coastline, spaced far enough that no balcony looked directly into another. A private road curved through landscaped gardens toward a central pavilion of glass, wood, and stone. Beyond it, the beach stretched out in pale sand and blue water, empty except for staff preparing shaded lounges beneath the trees.
No crowds, visible guests, camera flashes, distant fans, or noise— except the ocean.
For a moment, no one spoke. Then Ryujin whispered “Okay. This is rich-rich”. Yuna pressed both hands to the window “This is not a retreat. This is where villains recover after losing the first movie”. Chaeryeong’s mouth opened slightly “Is this all for us?”
“For two weeks,” I said. The van went quiet. Yeji turned toward me slowly “Ben”. I looked out the window “Yes?”
“How expensive is this?”
“That depends on how you define expensive.”
Lia closed her eyes “Bad answer.”
Yuna pointed at me “That is a tax bracket answer.”
The van stopped near the private reception pavilion. The doors opened. Warm air, salt wind, and sunlight spilled in. TWICE’s van had arrived just ahead of us, and they stepped out one by one into the brightness.
Nayeon took off her sunglasses and stared.
Sana clasped both hands in front of her chest.
Dahyun looked around like she was searching for the hidden production crew.
Jeongyeon crossed her arms, suspicious.
Momo looked toward the dining pavilion first.
Tzuyu looked at the beach quietly.
Chaeyoung smiled to herself.
Jihyo stepped out last, already assessing the entire venue like a leader who did not believe in relaxing until the building had earned her trust.
Mina stood beside her, calm as ever.
That was unfair because this was partly her fault. John got out of the van looking like a man who had survived a long drive only to be financially attacked by architecture. He looked at the resort. Then at me. Then at Mina “No.”
I frowned “What now?”
“This is not a wellness retreat.”
Mina looked at him “It has wellness facilities.”
“This is a private country with towels.”
Nayeon walked closer, eyes still moving across the resort “So… nobody else is here?” A staff member approached at a respectful distance but did not stare. That helped. A little.
Sana’s smile softened, but her eyes stayed careful “No guests?”
“No public bookings,” Mina said.
The group turned toward her. Mina adjusted the strap of her bag “This resort does not operate through normal channels. There are no public listings, no standard reservations, no casual walk-ins, no press access, and no guest overlap unless approved in advance.”
Dahyun lowered the invisible microphone she had almost raised “That sounds illegal.”
“It is not,” Mina said.
I added, “It is just expensive.”
John looked at me “That is not a defense.”
“It is often the explanation.”
Jeongyeon looked toward the beach “And staff?”
“Vetted,” I said. “Rotations locked. Phones restricted on working areas. Social posting prohibited by contract. Security handles perimeter access. Internal routes are separated.”
Jihyo’s eyes narrowed “That was too detailed.”
“Privacy requires detail.”
Yeji stepped closer to me. Her voice dropped just enough “Ben.”
I looked at her “What?”
“Invoice.”
I immediately looked away “No.”
Jihyo turned toward Mina “Invoice.”
Mina looked at Jihyo, then at me. Then calmly opened her phone “Mina,” I said. She ignored me. John exhaled “I knew it.” Yeji held out her hand “Show me.”
“It is already paid,” I said.
“That is not what I asked.”
“Technically, Mina paid half.”
Mina nodded “Split evenly.”
Jihyo took the phone first. She looked at the screen. Her face did not move. That was worse than screaming. Nayeon leaned over her shoulder. Then froze. Sana looked. Her smile dropped. Dahyun looked. Her imaginary microphone slowly lowered to her side. John saw the number and made a sound like someone had unplugged him from life support. Yeji took the phone last. She stared. Then stared longer. Then looked at me “Benjie.”
I stood straighter “Yes?”
“This is the price of every seat in an arena concert.”
Ryujin’s mouth dropped open.
Yuna turned toward the resort “We are sleeping inside a sold-out concert?”
Chaeryeong whispered, “For two weeks?”
Momo looked concerned “Is food included?”
Everyone turned toward her. She blinked “What?”
I nodded “Yes. Food is included.”
Chaeryeong visibly relaxed.
Mina added, “Food, staff, security, medical standby, private venue access, route control, and emergency contingencies.”
Jihyo handed the phone back to Mina slowly “Emergency contingencies?”
“Standard,” Mina said.
John pointed at her “For who?”
“For people like us,” Mina said.
He stared “That did not help.”
Yeji looked at me “There are staff bonuses on here.”
“Yes.”
“Why are there staff bonuses?”
“So they remain happy.”
Jihyo closed her eyes “You bribed the resort staff into emotional loyalty.”
“I prefer incentivized discretion.”
“That is bribery with better lighting,” John said.
Mina looked at him “It improves retention.”
John looked physically pained “Why do both of you have the same money disease?”
I frowned “It is not a disease.”
Yeji looked at me I corrected myself “It is a condition.”
“That is worse,” Lia said.
Yuna looked around the resort again, this time with a different kind of awe “So we can really… relax?”
The question softened the air. Because beneath the jokes, there it was. The thing none of them wanted to ask too loudly. Can we stop watching ourselves? Can we stop checking the corners? Can we laugh too loud? Can we walk outside without calculating exits? Can we exist without being consumed?
The ocean moved quietly beyond the pavilion. I looked at Yuna first. Then at Lia. Chaeryeong. Ryujin. Yeji. Then at TWICE “Yes,” I said. “That is the point.” Mina’s voice came softer beside me “For two weeks, this place is yours. Not publicly. Not symbolically. Functionally.” Jihyo looked at her. Mina continued “No press. No guests. No overlap. No staff access beyond assigned areas. If anyone tries to breach the perimeter, security sees them before they see you.” That helped more than the luxury did.
I saw it happen. Not all at once. Not completely. But enough. Nayeon’s shoulders dropped. Sana looked toward the beach like she was letting herself believe in it. Dahyun tucked her phone deeper into her bag without being told. Jeongyeon exhaled. Tzuyu smiled faintly. Ryujin pulled off her sunglasses. Yuna lowered her notebook. Lia looked at the water and said nothing. Chaeryeong held the snack bag a little tighter, but her face softened. Yeji stood beside me. Like the room inside her had finally opened a window.
A resort manager approached and bowed “Welcome. Your villas are ready.” John muttered, “Of course there are villas.”
“There are multiple groups,” Mina said.
“I understand the concept. I’m reacting to the price.”
The staff led us down a private stone path toward the villa cluster. The resort opened wider as we walked. Private pool. Beach access. Outdoor dining pavilion. Spa building. Training room. Cinema lounge. Garden paths. A kitchen large enough that Chaeryeong made a small noise under her breath. Momo heard it. Momo looked at the kitchen. Then at Chaeryeong. Something like alliance passed between them.
Jihyo noticed and immediately looked concerned “Do we need kitchen rules?”
“Yes,” John said.
Momo blinked and Chaeryeong looked down “Maybe.”
The room assignments became a separate diplomatic event.
Jihyo wanted structure. Nayeon wanted chaos. Sana wanted “organic bonding.” John said the word organic had become dangerous. Mina provided a villa map. Yuna immediately tried to improve it with activity zones. Lia took the pen away again. Eventually, the arrangement settled into something survivable. TWICE had one large villa wing closest to the garden path. ITZY had the connected wing facing the beach. John had a separate manager’s suite near the central office, which he claimed was for operational oversight.
Nayeon called it cowardice. Jihyo called it practical. Mina had a quiet villa near the end of the path with the best view and enough distance to make John suspicious. I had a room in ITZY’s wing. That alone should not have been a problem. Naturally, it became one. Ryujin looked at the room list. Then at Yeji and then at me. Slowly. “You two are sharing?” Yeji’s face changed by one degree. Leader mode tried to save her. It failed “For logistics,” she said.
Yuna leaned in “Logistics.” Lia closed her eyes “Do not.” Chaeryeong looked down, already smiling. Nayeon appeared behind Ryujin with terrifying timing “Honeymoon logistics?”
Yeji turned pink “No.” Sana appeared beside Nayeon “Wife privileges?”
“No.”
Dahyun lifted one finger “Room assignment confirms ongoing title dispute.” Jihyo pointed at her “No reporting.” Dahyun lowered her hand. I took the key card from the staff member.
“There are enough rooms for everyone to be comfortable. Yeji and I can switch if needed.” Yeji looked at me. The room went quiet. She took the key card from my hand “No.” Everyone froze. Yeji held the card, face warm but voice steady “It’s fine.” Nayeon smiled. Ryujin’s eyebrows rose. Yuna covered her mouth. Lia looked away to hide a smile. I looked at Yeji. She did not look back immediately. That was how I knew she knew exactly what she had done.
Jihyo, mercifully, clapped once. “Unpack first. Meeting in the dining pavilion in one hour. No wandering alone until security finishes the final perimeter confirmation.” Ryujin raised her hand “What if wandering is emotionally necessary?”
“Then wander with witnesses.”
Yuna raised her notebook “What if I need to inspect activity zones?”
“Later.”
Momo raised a hand “Food?”
Chaeryeong lifted her bag “I can help check the kitchen.”
Jihyo looked between them, then sighed “Thirty minutes. Supervised.”
Momo smiled. Chaeryeong looked like she had been given a sacred mission. The group scattered in pieces. Laughter down one path. Bags rolling over stone. Staff moving quietly around us. The ocean following everything. For the first time, the noise did not feel trapped in a room. It had somewhere to go.
Yeji walked beside me toward our assigned villa. Neither of us spoke at first. The path curved past low greenery and opened toward a private terrace facing the water. Our room sat at the edge of the ITZY wing, close enough to everyone to be reachable, far enough to feel separate.
Yeji unlocked the door. The room opened into warm light. Wide bed. Soft curtains. Private balcony. Ocean view. A couch near the window. A bathroom too large to be reasonable. Fresh flowers on the table. Our luggage already placed neatly near the closet. And silence. Actual silence.
The door clicked shut behind us. For the first time since morning, there was no one else. No paperwork. No John suffering in the corner. No Ryujin listening through the walls. No Nayeon weaponizing the word ‘wife’ from ten feet away. Just the room. The ocean. Our bags by the door, and Yeji standing very still in front of me.
I looked around “Not bad,” I said. “Does my wife approve?” I meant it as a joke. Mostly. Yeji turned around slowly. The look on her face made every surviving thought in my head stop moving “Say that again.” I blinked “What?” Her eyes stayed on mine as she stepped closer. Close enough that I felt the shift in the air before I felt her hand against my shirt “You keep doing that,” she said softly “Doing what?”
“Calling me that”. My throat went dry “Jokingly.” Yeji’s mouth curved. Not quite a smile or a warning. Something worse. Something private “Do you know how hard it was for me not to pounce on you every time you called me your wife in front of everyone?”
The room went quiet. Or maybe I did. Because Yeji had stepped fully into my space now, one hand resting against my chest, close enough to feel the temporary ink beneath the fabric “And then you had the nerve,” she whispered, “to put my name here.”
I looked down at her hand. Then back at her “You chose the font.”
“I know.”
“You chose the hearts.”
Her fingers curled into my shirt “I know.”
“Yeji.”
Her eyes lifted to mine, steady and bright and dangerous “You kept making me blush in front of everyone,” she said. “So now you can deal with me without an audience”. I swallowed. “Is this leader mode?”
“No.” She stepped closer “This is me, making good use of wife privileges.”
The silence of the room didn't just feel like a lack of noise. It felt like a vacuum, pulling the air out of my lungs until the only thing left to breathe was the scent of Yeji—something like vanilla, salt, and a sudden, electric heat.
She didn't give me a chance to answer. She didn't give me a chance to joke. Yeji stepped forward, her movements devoid of the hesitation that usually governed her public persona. She didn't just enter my space; she annexed it. Her hand, which had been resting on my chest, suddenly tightened, her fingers curling into the fabric of my shirt with a strength that bordered on desperation.
"You think you're so clever," she whispered, her voice dropping an octave, vibrating against my skin. "All those little comments. All those looks. Do you have any idea what it does to me? To have to stand there, the leader of the group, pretending I'm not vibrating out of my skin because you're treating me like I belong to you?"
I opened my mouth to say something—probably a joke about how she seemed to be enjoying it—but the words died in my throat. Yeji’s eyes were dark, the pupils blown wide, swallowing the iris. There was a hunger there that I had only ever seen in flashes, hidden behind the professionalism and the poise. Now, it was a wildfire.
"I spent the whole drive thinking about this," she murmured, her breath hot against my lips. "Thinking about a place where I didn't have to be the one holding everything together. Where I could just... take."
Then she kissed me.
It wasn't a gentle invitation. It was a collision. Her lips slammed into mine with a ferocity that knocked me back a half-step, her tongue immediately forcing its way past my teeth to claim my mouth. She tasted like the mint she’d been chewing and a deep, visceral need. We exchanged saliva in a messy, desperate rhythm, the sound of our mouths meeting—a wet, slapping noise—filling the quiet room.
Yeji’s hands didn't stay still. While her mouth worked mine, her fingers flew to the buttons of my shirt. She didn't unbutton them so much as she ripped them, a couple of small plastic discs pinging off the wall as she tore the fabric open to get to my skin. I groaned into her mouth, my hands finding her waist, pulling her flush against me. She was relentless, her nipples peaking through her clothes, pressing into my chest.
"Clothes," she breathed, breaking the kiss for a split second, her voice a jagged edge. "Get them off. Now."
She didn't wait for me to comply. She pushed me backward, her kisses migrating to my jaw, then my neck, biting down on the sensitive cord of muscle there. I stumbled back, my heels catching on the edge of the luggage, but she used the momentum to keep me moving. We drifted across the room in a chaotic dance of limbs and friction. Yeji was a whirlwind, her hands diving into my waistband, shoving my trousers down with a frantic energy.
I managed to kick my shoes off, one of them hitting the nightstand with a thud, while she worked on my underwear. She didn't just slide them off; she peeled them away, her eyes never leaving mine for more than a second. When I was finally standing there, completely naked and shivering despite the warmth of the room, Yeji stepped back.
She didn't look away. She looked at me—really looked at me—from the line of my shoulders down to the heavy, pulsing length of my cock, which was already leaking a bead of pre-cum.
"Finally," she whispered.
With a sudden, forceful shove, she pushed me down onto the bed. I hit the mattress with a soft huff, the white linens cool against my back. Yeji stood over me, her silhouette framed by the golden light filtering through the curtains. Slowly, with a deliberate, erotic precision, she began to strip.
She reached for the hem of her shirt and pulled it over her head in one fluid motion, tossing it blindly toward the corner of the room. Her breasts were perfect, small and firm with aroused nipples. I reached up, my fingers itching to touch her, but she stepped back, a small, commanding smile playing on her lips.
"Wait," she commanded.
She slid her trousers down, the fabric whispering against her skin. She stepped out of them, leaving her in nothing but a pair of lace panties that left nothing to the imagination. The sight of her—the curve of her hips, the softness of her belly, the way her thighs trembled slightly—made my blood roar in my ears. She reached back, hooking her fingers into the lace and sliding the fabric down her legs.
She stood there for a heartbeat, completely nude, her skin glowing in the afternoon light. She looked like a goddess, but the expression on her face was entirely human. She looked hungry.
Before I could even reach for her, before I could utter a single word of praise, Yeji climbed onto the bed. She didn't crawl; she prowled. She moved over me, her knees flanking my hips, and then, with a sudden shift in weight, she pivoted.
She lowered herself directly onto my face.
The air left me in a rush as the wet, hot folds of her pussy pressed firmly against my mouth and nose. The scent hit me instantly—musk, arousal, and that singular, intoxicating Yeji-smell. I could feel the heat radiating from her, the slickness of her juices already soaking into my skin.
She gasped, her voice strained as she shifted her weight, sliding down my body until her face was positioned perfectly between my legs. "I've wanted this since the moment we left the city." The world narrowed down to the sensation of her. I pressed my tongue upward, finding her clit, swirling around the tiny, engorged bud of pleasure. Yeji let out a loud, guttural moan that vibrated through my entire skull. At the same time, her mouth closed around me.
She didn't just suck; she worshipped. Her tongue wrapped around the head of my cock, swirling in a tight, rhythmic circle before she slid her mouth down the shaft. The suction was intense, a vacuum of heat and saliva that made my toes curl. I could hear the wet, shlicking sounds of her tongue working against my skin, the squelch of saliva as she took as much of me as she could handle.
I responded by burying my face deeper into her. I used my tongue to part her lips, delving deep into the creaminess of her center. She tasted sweet and salty, a flood of arousal that coated my tongue. I flicked my tongue rapidly against her clit while sucking on the soft flesh of her inner thighs.
Yeji’s breathing became a series of erratic, high-pitched whimpers. She was shaking, her hands gripping my thighs so hard her nails dug into my skin. The rhythm intensified. Her mouth was a furnace, her tongue dancing over the frenulum, while I worked my way deeper into her, my tongue mimicking the thrusts she would eventually want.
"Ben... Ben, I'm... I'm close," she wailed, the sound muffled by my lap.
She shifted suddenly, pulling away from my cock and sliding back up. She didn't move off my face; instead, she sat directly on it, her weight pressing her pussy firmly against my mouth, sealing us together. She arched her back, her chest thrusting toward the ceiling, her head falling back as the first wave of orgasm hit her.
I could feel her muscles contracting against my lips, the rhythmic pulsing of her walls as she came. A flood of hot, thick juices drenched my face, the taste of her climax filling my mouth. Yeji screamed—a raw, unfiltered sound of release that echoed through the room.
The sight and feel of her coming on my face, the sheer vulnerability and power of it, snapped something inside me. The tension that had been building for months, the longing, the frustration—it all converged into a single point of explosion.
I bucked upward, my hips surging with a violent force. I came with a power that felt like a physical blow, my cum spraying upward in thick, hot jets. Because of the angle, the force sent the white fluid flying, splashing across Yeji’s stomach and chest, and spraying directly across her face.
She gasped, her eyes snapping open as the warm liquid hit her cheeks and forehead. We stayed like that for a moment, locked together, breathing in sync, the room smelling of sex and salt.
Yeji didn't move for a long time. Then, slowly, she shifted, sliding off my face and rolling onto her side. She looked at me, her eyes hazy and pupils still wide. She raised a hand, her thumb wiping a streak of my cum from her cheek.
She didn't wipe it away in disgust. She looked at the white fluid on her thumb, then slowly brought it to her lips and licked it clean, her eyes locked on mine with a predatory intensity.
"Stay still," she whispered.
She moved with a purpose now, her movements slower but more deliberate. She guided my cock, which was already beginning to stir again, toward the entrance of her pussy. She didn't just slide on; she teased the head against her folds, rubbing the slickness of her own juices and my cum across her lips.
"It's time for the wife to give her husband what he deserves," she murmured, her voice a low, sultry purr.
She lowered herself slowly, the friction causing a wet, squelching sound that echoed in the quiet room. I felt my head disappear into her, the tightness of her walls gripping me like a vice. Yeji let out a long, shaky breath, her eyes closing as she settled fully onto me, her cervix meeting the head of my cock.
"Oh god," she whimpered. "You're so... you're so deep."
She began to move, her hips rotating in a slow, grinding circle. I reached up, my hands finding the swell of her breasts, squeezing them as she rose and fell. The sound of our bodies meeting—the slap of her ass against my thighs—became the only rhythm in the world.
Yeji was vocal, her moans turning into passionate, loving declarations.
"I love you," she gasped, her voice breaking. "I love you so much, Ben. I've wanted this... I've wanted you inside me for so long."
She increased the pace, her movements becoming more urgent. She wasn't just riding me; she was claiming me. She leaned forward, her breasts brushing against my chest, her sweat mingling with mine. I could feel her internal muscles clamping down on me with every downward thrust, drawing me deeper into her heat.
As she approached her second climax, she didn't pull away. Instead, she leaned down and captured my lips in a kiss that felt like a seal of ownership. She put both of her hands on my face, framing my jaw, her fingers digging into my cheeks, refusing to let go. She held me there, her gaze locked on mine, as the orgasm ripped through her.
I felt her walls spasm violently, squeezing the life out of me. My own hand slid down, gripping the curve of her ass, pulling her down hard against me, while my other hand stayed at the back of her head, holding her close. We rode out the wave together, the intimacy of the moment far outweighing the physical pleasure.
When she finally collapsed against me, her breathing ragged and her skin flushed a deep pink, she stayed there for a long time. She felt soft, spent, and completely satisfied.
"I'm... I'm done," she whispered into my neck, her voice trailing off into a contented sigh. "I think... I think the wife has made the husband happy. Maybe we should... go meet the others for dinner."
I felt a shift in my own chest. Watching her like this—undone, vulnerable, and utterly devoted—flipped a switch in me. The softness was gone, replaced by a sudden, towering hunger. I didn't want to stop. I wanted more. I wanted to see her break again.
"Not so fast," I whispered, my voice sounding deeper, even to my own ears.
Yeji blinked, looking up at me with a confused smile. "What?"
"You used the wife card to get your way," I said, my hand sliding from her ass to her waist, gripping her firmly. "Now it's time for the husband card. The wife deserves more pampering after all that hard work she's done."
Before she could protest, I gripped her hips and flipped her over. She let out a small, surprised yelp as I moved her onto her hands and knees. I didn't stop there. I guided her further, pressing her chest down into the mattress while keeping her hips high, her legs spread wide.
I entered her from behind, but I didn't just slide in. I angled my body, lifting one of her legs up and over my hip, creating a steep, deep incline. This was a variation of the *Indrani* position from the Kama Sutra, designed for maximum depth and contact.
As I thrust forward, I felt myself hit her G-spot—the sensitive area that had become hyper-responsive after her previous orgasms.
Yeji’s reaction was instantaneous. She let out a scream that was barely human, her back arching violently.
"Ben! Oh my god, Ben!"
The pleasure was too much. She began to shake, her movements mirroring the overstimulation Ryujin often described. Every thrust felt like an electric shock, a wave of intensity that threatened to drown her. She was moaning loudly now, the sounds raw and desperate, her fingers clawing at the sheets.
"Too much... it's too much!" she wailed, but she pushed her hips back against me, demanding more.
I didn't let up. I hammered into her, the sound of our bodies colliding filling the room with a rhythmic, visceral thud. I could feel her internal walls fluttering, pulsing around me in a frantic attempt to absorb the pleasure. She was hovering on the edge of a third, massive climax, her voice reduced to fragmented whimpers.
"Please... please, Ben... give it to me... all of it!"
I felt the pressure building in my gut, a tidal wave that I could no longer hold back. With one final, deep surge, I buried myself as far as I could go, pinning her against the mattress.
I came inside her with a force that made my entire body shudder. I could feel the hot, thick pulses of my seed filling her, the warmth spreading through her core. Yeji let out a final, long moan, her head falling forward as she collapsed into the bed, her body still twitching from the intensity of the release.
We lay there in the wreckage of the room, the curtains fluttering in the breeze, the ocean calling from the balcony. The silence returned, but it was different now. It wasn't a vacuum; it was a sanctuary.
Yeji shifted, rolling over to look at me. Her hair was a mess, her lips were swollen, and her eyes were filled with a softness that made my heart ache. She looked embarrassed for a fleeting second, remembering how aggressive she had been, but then she smiled—a real, genuine smile—and pulled me close.
"I think," she whispered, her voice barely audible, "I really like these wife privileges."
For a second, I forgot how to answer. Not because I did not have a joke. I had several. All of them terrible. All of them dangerous.
But Yeji was looking at me with her hair ruined, her lips swollen, her skin still warm against mine, and that tiny embarrassed smile caught between pride and disbelief. The kind of smile she only gave when she had surprised herself first.
So for once, I did the smarter thing. I kissed her. Softly this time. No urgency. Just my mouth against hers, slow enough that she melted into it instead of trying to win. Her hand slid up my chest, fingers brushing over the place where her name was still hidden beneath my shirt somewhere on the floor, and she laughed quietly against my lips.
“What?” I asked. Her cheeks colored “I’m thinking.”
“That sounds dangerous.”
“It is.”
I smiled “About?”
She hid her face against my neck “No.”
“Yeji.”
“No.”
“Wife privileges?”
Her hand hit my chest weakly.
“Don’t ruin it.”
“I’m not ruining it. I’m appreciating the policy.”
“There is no policy.”
“There are clearly benefits.”
She groaned into my skin “I hate you.”
“No, you don’t.”
Her silence lasted too long. Then, very quietly, she said, “No. I don’t.” That did something to me. More than the teasing. More than the way she had said wife earlier like it belonged in her mouth. More than the tattoo. I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her closer until she was lying half on top of me, her cheek against my chest, one leg tangled between mine. The room had gone still again, but this time it did not feel empty. It felt protected.
Outside, the ocean moved beyond the balcony.
Inside, Yeji traced idle shapes against my skin. For a while, neither of us spoke. That was new. Not because we had nothing to say. Because for once, nothing needed defending. Her breathing slowed first. Then mine followed. I pressed a kiss into her hair, and she made a small sound like she wanted to complain but did not have the strength to commit to it. “You okay?” I asked. She nodded against me.
Then, after a pause, she lifted her head “You?”
“Yes.”
Her eyes narrowed “That was too fast.”
“I’m very okay.”
“Ben.”
I smiled “I am happy.”
That softened her. She looked down, embarrassed again, but this time she did not hide. “Me too.” I tucked a strand of hair behind her ear “You were very scary.” Her eyes flicked back to mine. “You deserved it.”
“I did.”
“You kept calling me your wife.”
“I did.”
“In front of everyone.”
“I did.”
“And then you put my name on your chest.”
“You chose the hearts.”
Her mouth twitched “They were artistically necessary.”
“Of course.”
“And private.”
“Apparently not, since John betrayed me with documentary evidence.”
Yeji covered her face “I still cannot believe he showed everyone.”
“I can. John is a wounded animal. He wanted collateral.”
She laughed. Soft and happy. Then she kissed me again. That one lasted longer. It started gentle, but Yeji had a way of making even softness feel like a decision. Her fingers found my jaw, holding me there as if I might escape, even though both of us knew I had nowhere else I wanted to be.
I kissed her back until she sighed into my mouth. Until her shoulders loosened. Until the leader finally stopped standing guard behind her eyes. When she pulled away, she stayed close enough for our noses to brush.
“For the record,” she whispered, “I am still your girlfriend.”
“I know.”
“Not wife.”
“I know.”
She stared at me. I stared back. Then she added, quieter, “Yet.”
The word barely existed. But I heard it. My heart stopped so violently that it should have triggered the resort’s medical standby. Yeji realized what she had said and immediately tried to roll away. I caught her “Nope.”
“Ben.”
“No. Come back.”
“I said nothing.”
“You said theology.”
“I said one word.”
“One devastating word.”
She buried her face against my shoulder “I hate this room.”
“This room has done nothing wrong.”
“This room has heard too much.”
“The walls signed an NDA.”
She laughed again, and I felt it against my chest. For a while, that was all we did. Cuddle. Kiss. Talk in fragments. Pretend we were not both trying to memorize what it felt like to be this quiet together. Eventually, Yeji’s hand drifted lower and found my wrist. She turned it slightly, checking the time.
Then went still.
I felt it before I understood it “What?” She lifted my wrist closer. Then her head snapped up “Ben.”
“What?”
“We’re late.”
I blinked “For what?”
“Dinner.”
The word landed like a siren. We both moved at once. Badly. Yeji sat up too fast, winced, then pointed at me before I could comment “Do not.”
“I said nothing.”
“You thought something.”
“That is not illegal.”
“It will be if you smile.”
I did not smile. Technically. She scrambled toward the edge of the bed, then stopped when she looked around the room. The room looked like it had lost an argument. Clothes on the floor. One of my shirt buttons near the curtain. A pillow halfway off the mattress. The blankets destroyed beyond reasonable explanation. Yeji stared. Then slowly looked back at me.
“We need to get clothed.”
“We need to be at dinner.”
“We need all three.”
She closed her eyes.
“We are doomed.”
“Probably.”
“Benjie.”
I got up. She grabbed a pillow and threw it at me. We managed to shower, dress, and make the room look less like a crime scene in record time. Not clean, but survivable. Yeji fixed her hair in the mirror with the focus of someone preparing for a comeback stage instead of dinner with women who already knew too much. I buttoned a fresh shirt all the way up because I had learned at least one lesson in the past twenty-four hours.
Yeji noticed.
“Good.”
“I can behave.”
“No, you can be managed.”
“That sounds like wife work.”
She pointed the hairbrush at me “Do not start.” I smiled. She tried not to, she failed. We were twenty-three minutes late. Which was not ideal. But also not catastrophic. Until we reached the dining pavilion and the entire table went silent. That was catastrophic. Every head turned. ITZY. TWICE. John. Jihyo. Mina.
Even Momo stopped eating.
That, more than anything, told me we were in danger. Yeji straightened beside me. Damaged, but functional “Sorry we’re late.”
No one spoke.
Then Ryujin leaned back in her chair and smiled. Slowly “Oh?”
“No,” Yeji said immediately. Ryujin’s smile widened.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You were about to.”
Yuna looked between us, eyes bright with the kind of joy only danger could produce “You both look very… rested.” Lia closed her eyes “Yuna.”
“What? I said rested.” Nayeon leaned forward, chin in her hand “Rested is generous.” Sana smiled sweetly “Glowing?” Yeji’s face turned pink “We lost track of time.” John stared at me “You lost track of dinner?”
“Apparently.”
“You?”
“I was busy.”
The table inhaled as one organism. Yeji’s head whipped toward me.
“Ben.”
“What? With unpacking.”
Dahyun lifted her imaginary microphone “Breaking news: local couple claims unpacking after arriving twenty-three minutes late to dinner.”
“I did not claim couple,” Yeji said.
Mina looked at her plate “You did not deny unpacking.”
Yeji turned toward Mina, betrayed “Mina.”
“It is a factual gap.”
Ryujin pointed at the two empty seats “Sit down before this gets worse.”
“That sounds merciful,” I said.
Ryujin smiled “It is not.”
We sat. Unfortunately, sitting did not help. Because the silence kept smiling at us. Chaeryeong, who had clearly been trying very hard not to participate, looked at Yeji with gentle concern “Unnie, are you okay?” Yeji froze. The table froze with her. I looked at my water. Cowardly, but necessary. Yeji cleared her throat “Yes.”
Ryujin’s eyes sharpened “Physically?”
“Ryujin,” Lia warned.
Yuna leaned forward “Private resort does not mean subtle resort.”
Yeji closed her eyes. I stopped breathing. Jihyo slowly lowered her utensils “What does that mean?” Lia looked at Yuna “Do not.” Yuna looked at her “They were not quiet.”
The table detonated.
Yeji covered her face. I stared into the middle distance and accepted death. Nayeon slammed both hands on the table “I knew it.” Sana gasped like she had just witnessed romance itself walk into the room. Dahyun’s imaginary microphone returned instantly “Breaking news: honeymoon logistics confirmed by acoustic evidence.”
“It was not honeymoon logistics,” Yeji said through her hands. Ryujin leaned toward her “Unnie.”
“No.”
“You screamed.”
“Ryujin!”
Momo blinked. Then looked at John “Is that what we heard?” John choked on his drink. Jihyo closed her eyes “Do not answer that.” Nayeon turned to John anyway “Manager-nim.”
“No.”
“You never did that when we arrived somewhere.”
“I am begging you not to compare arrival protocols.”
Sana tilted her head “Why not?”
“Because that phrase already sounds illegal.”
Jeongyeon crossed her arms “Ben arrives at a resort and immediately treats his wife properly.”
Yeji’s face went fully red “I am not his wife.”
Tzuyu looked at her calmly “But the room heard otherwise.”
The table exploded again. I covered my mouth. Not because I was embarrassed— because if I laughed, Yeji would kill me. Lia, somehow, tried to restore dignity “Maybe we should let them eat.”
“Thank you,” Yeji said weakly.
Lia nodded, then added, “They probably need energy.”
Yeji stared at her. Lia took a sip of water, expression perfectly calm “Traitor,” Yeji whispered. Ryujin looked delighted “Vacation Lia is dangerous.” Yuna nodded “She has timing.” Nayeon pointed at John “See? Even Lia understands the standard.” John looked betrayed by the entire world “I drove for hours. I handled logistics. I survived Ben. I deserve peace.” Jihyo looked at him “You also streamed his tattoo video to everyone.” John paused and then nodded “I deserved that part.”
Dahyun lifted her imaginary microphone again “TWICE files formal complaint: lack of honeymoon-grade welcome treatment.” John pointed at her “No filing.” Sana smiled “Just verbal complaint.” Momo raised her hand slightly “Can dinner still continue during the complaint?” Chaeryeong immediately nodded “Yes.”
“Good,” Momo said, and returned to eating. Mina looked toward me “Was the room satisfactory?” Yeji made a strangled sound. John put his head in his hands. I stared at Mina “The room was excellent.” Mina nodded “Good.” Nayeon grinned “Apparently.” Yeji grabbed her glass of water and drank like it was the only thing keeping her alive. I leaned closer to her, lowering my voice “You okay?”
She did not look at me “No.”
“Do you want me to stop them?”
“You cannot stop them.”
“That is true.”
Her eyes flicked toward me. Then down to my shirt. Still buttoned. Still hiding everything. Her voice dropped “If you show even one letter at this table, I will push you into the ocean.” I smiled faintly “Yes, my dear wife.”
She kicked my ankle under the table. Hard. I deserved it. Unfortunately, Nayeon saw “She kicked him.” Sana gasped “Domestic.”
Dahyun lifted the microphone “Breaking news: wife disciplines husband at dinner after honeymoon scandal.” Yeji pointed at Dahyun “No more breaking news.” Dahyun lowered her hand “For now.” Jihyo finally clapped once “Enough. Let them eat.” The authority in her voice worked… Mostly.
People returned to their plates, but the table stayed lighter now. The kind of laughter that did not need to be loud to keep circling back. Yuna kept smiling into her food. Ryujin kept glancing at Yeji like she had discovered a new favorite weakness. Lia looked too pleased with herself for someone who had pretended to be the voice of reason all morning. TWICE, meanwhile, continued punishing John in smaller ways.
Nayeon asked if he needed “arrival training.”
Sana suggested a retreat workshop.
Dahyun offered to document improvement.
Jeongyeon said he could start with eye contact and work his way up.
Momo said dinner first.
Tzuyu quietly added that expectations had now been established.
John looked at me across the table “I hate you.” I lifted my glass “You should have taken notes.” The TWICE side erupted. John pointed at me “You are the problem.”
Yeji, still pink, still embarrassed, still glowing in a way everyone could see, reached under the table and found my hand. No one saw that part. Or if they did, they were kind enough not to say anything. For once.
Yeji’s fingers threaded through mine. I looked at her and she did not look back. But her thumb brushed once over my knuckles. A private answer in the middle of a public execution. The first dinner of the retreat continued around us. Too full of people who knew too much and somehow, for the first time since we arrived, it felt exactly like what we had come here for.
It wasn’t peace, not yet. But release. A place where embarrassment could become laughter. Where privacy did not mean silence. Where Yeji could be late to dinner, red-faced and furious, and still have her hand in mine beneath the table.
Across from us, Ryujin leaned toward Yuna and whispered something. Yuna’s eyes widened. Lia immediately said, “No.”
“I didn’t say anything,” Ryujin replied.
“You were about to.”
Chaeryeong smiled into her plate. Momo reached for another serving. Nayeon started bothering John again. Jihyo pretended not to enjoy it. Mina quietly checked the dessert options. And Yeji, my not-wife girlfriend, the leader with wife privileges, squeezed my hand once more. I smiled into my glass. Dinner was late and the vacation, apparently, had started properly.
Dinner lasted longer than it should have. Not because anyone was still hungry. Momo was, obviously, but that was a separate condition.
Dinner lasted because nobody wanted to be the first one to admit they were tired. The first night of the retreat had settled over us slowly, warm and salt-heavy, with the ocean breathing somewhere beyond the lights of the dining pavilion. The staff had cleared most of the plates. Dessert had appeared without anyone asking. Mina had approved the plating with one quiet nod, which somehow made the chef look more relieved than when Jihyo thanked him.
Eventually, the table broke apart into smaller pieces. Not groups exactly. More like currents.
Momo and Chaeryeong drifted toward the kitchen with a seriousness that suggested diplomatic negotiations over breakfast. Yuna cornered Dahyun and Sana with her activity notebook, which immediately made Lia stand up with a sigh and follow them like a woman trying to prevent a recreational felony. Ryujin and Nayeon had started whispering again, and John noticed too late. “No,” he said from across the table.
Ryujin looked offended “We have said nothing.”
“That is usually when the damage starts.”
Nayeon smiled “Manager-nim, you wound me.”
“I am trying to prevent being wounded.”
Jihyo stood, folder tucked beneath one arm, and looked toward Yeji “Can I borrow you for a minute?” Yeji looked up from beside me “For logistics?”
“For logistics,” Jihyo said. Sana appeared behind Jihyo, smiling too brightly “And wife privileges.” Yeji’s face went red immediately “No.” Nayeon lifted one hand “Emotional logistics.” Dahyun raised her imaginary microphone “Breaking news: senior leaders convene to discuss honeymoon noise policy.” Jihyo pointed at her without looking “No.” Dahyun lowered her hand “For now.”
Yeji turned toward me, still pink, still trying very hard to look like this was a normal dinner and not a public trial “I’ll be back.”
“I’ll survive.”
Ryujin snorted “Barely.” Yeji gave her a look, then leaned closer to me just enough for only me to hear “Behave.” I smiled “You first.” Her eyes narrowed. The wife voice almost came out. Then she seemed to remember where we were and only shook her head, but her fingers brushed mine under the table before she let go.
It was small, private, more importantly— enough.
Then TWICE took her. Not aggressively. Worse, playfully. Nayeon hooked an arm through hers. Sana took the other side. Jihyo walked ahead like this was an actual strategy meeting and not Yeji being escorted to a tribunal. Mina followed behind them, calm as ever, and said something about the morning schedule. Yeji glanced back once. Not worried. Not possessive. Just checking. I gave her a small nod. She rolled her eyes like I had done something annoying. Then smiled before turning away. That smile stayed with me after she disappeared down the garden path with them.
For a while, I remained at the table. John sat across from me, watching TWICE drag Yeji away “That,” he said, “is how it starts.”
“What?”
“First they ask for logistics. Then they ask for feelings. Then somehow you are apologizing for things you did in a hypothetical future.” I looked at him “You speak from experience?” He stared into his drink “I speak from survival.”
Across the pavilion, Ryujin laughed too loudly at something Nayeon said from a distance despite not even being part of that conversation anymore. Yuna was arguing that “optional midnight bonding” was different from “mandatory midnight bonding.” Lia had taken the notebook and was holding it above her head while Yuna tried to reach for it.
Chaeryeong returned from the kitchen with Momo beside her, both looking strangely satisfied. The first night was loosening. The kind of loosening that came from realizing nobody had tried to take a picture of them for hours.
Nobody had shouted their names from beyond a barricade. Nobody had watched them eat through a screen. I stood before the feeling could get too large. John noticed “Where are you going?”
“For air.”
He narrowed his eyes “No cigarettes.”
I looked at him “Yeji said the same thing.”
“Good. I like being alive.”
“I’m not smoking.”
“Good.”
“If I was, I wouldn’t tell you.”
“Bad.”
I left before he could continue. The path beyond the pavilion curved toward the beach. Lights were hidden low among the stones, soft enough not to ruin the night sky. The resort was quiet in a way the Top Floor never could be. The Top Floor had silence, sometimes. But it was city silence. Elevator silence. Glass-wall silence. Money pretending to be peace.
This was different. This was ocean and darkness and distance. I stopped near the edge of the sand, where the stone path gave way beneath my shoes. The wind moved warm against my face. For the first time that day, I did not immediately think about logistics.
Then a voice behind me said, “You really didn’t smoke.”
I turned. Lia stood a few steps away, holding two cups. Her hair was loose around her shoulders, her expression quiet in the way it became when she had decided to say something before she was ready. I smiled faintly.
“Were you checking?”
“Yes.”
“At least you’re honest.”
“I brought tea as a cover story.”
“That is more suspicious than just checking.”
She looked down at the cups. Then back at me “It’s good tea.” I accepted one “Thank you.” She moved beside me, leaving enough space that it did not feel accidental, but close enough that it did not feel distant either. For a while, we watched the water.
The sound of the others drifted faintly from the pavilion behind us. Laughter. A muffled shout from Yuna. Jihyo’s voice cutting through something with leader precision. Yeji laughing after that, small and embarrassed and happy.
Lia heard it too. Her eyes softened “She sounds different here.”
“Yeji?”
Lia nodded “Lighter.”
I looked toward the lights “She deserves to be.”
“She does.”
The words were simple. But the way Lia said them was not. I looked at her. She was still watching the water, both hands wrapped around her cup. “And you?” I asked.
Her mouth curved faintly “I knew you would ask that.”
“Should I not?”
“No.”
She took a breath “You should.”
The wind moved between us. Lia looked down into her tea like it might offer instructions.
“I thought coming here would make things quieter,” she said.
“Has it?”
“A little.” Then she smiled, but it was tired “Also no.”
I waited. That was something I had learned with Lia. If you filled the silence too quickly, she would let you. She would nod, soften, make room for everyone else’s words. But if you waited, sometimes she gave you something real.
She did this time “I have feelings for you,” she said quietly.
I did not move. Not because I was surprised. Because I knew this sentence had cost her more than she wanted anyone to see. Lia’s fingers tightened around the cup “I know that’s not new. Not exactly. I think I’ve known for a while. I think everyone else probably knew before I wanted them to.”
A small laugh escaped her. Embarrassed and soft “But knowing and doing something about it are not the same.”
“No,” I said. “They’re not.” Her eyes lifted to mine. That was the dangerous part. Not the confession. The looking. Lia could hide in careful words if she wanted to. But her eyes had always been worse at lying “I don’t want to be left behind,” she whispered. My chest tightened “Lia.”
“I know no one is doing that to me.” she shook her head gently, stopping me before I could reassure her too fast.
“I know. That’s not what I mean.”
She looked back toward the pavilion. Toward the people laughing under warm lights. Toward the life that had somehow become too complicated to name simply “I just mean… everyone is moving. In their own way. Yeji knows where she stands. Ryujin acts like fear is something she can flirt with until it gives up. Yuna is scared and still jumps anyway.”
Her voice softened “And Chaeryeong…” She paused. I watched her. Lia did not finish that thought. Instead, she looked at me again “I’m not like them.”
“You don’t have to be.”
“I know.”
But again, her voice trembled enough to reveal the problem. Knowing was not believing. Not fully. Lia set her tea down on the low stone wall beside us. Then she stepped closer. Not much. Enough that I noticed. Enough that she noticed me noticing. Her breath caught, and for one second, I thought she might step back. She did not.
“Can I try something?” she asked. My voice came out lower than I expected. “Yes.”
She searched my face “You don’t know what it is.”
“I trust you.”
That almost broke her.
I saw it in the way her eyes softened too quickly, in the way her lips parted around a breath she did not release. Then Lia reached for me. Her hand touched my arm first.
Careful. Testing. Then slid down to my wrist, like she needed something smaller than my face to hold onto before she could be brave enough for the rest. I stayed still. Lia stepped closer again. Then she kissed me.
It was not like Yeji. Not collision. Not fire finally finding air. Lia’s kiss was quiet. Deliberate. A question asked with trembling courage. Her lips touched mine softly, then pressed a little firmer when I did not pull away. Her fingers tightened around my wrist. For one second, she seemed to freeze inside the decision she had made.
Then I kissed her back. Carefully. Slow enough that she could stop me. Soft enough that she could stay. Lia made a tiny sound against my mouth. Not surprise, it was relief.
That sound nearly undid me more than anything else could have. Her other hand lifted, hovering near my chest. For a moment, she almost touched me there. Almost pulled herself closer. Almost crossed from kiss into something larger.
Then she stopped.
Her fingers curled in the air before they reached me. Not away. Just short of more. I felt the hesitation like a held breath between us. So I kept still. Careful “Lia.” Her eyes opened. Soft. Startled. Like she already knew what I had seen.
“You don’t have to force yourself.”
Her hand lowered slightly “I know.”
But her voice said she was trying to. Not because she did not want this. Because she did. Because wanting it made her feel like she had to keep proving she was ready for all of it at once. I covered the hand holding my wrist with mine. Not to keep her there. Only to let her feel that she could let go without losing anything.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
Lia looked at me for a long moment. The ocean moved behind her. The pavilion laughter carried faintly through the trees. Then she exhaled, almost laughing. Almost breaking.
“That’s the problem.”
I smiled faintly “Is it?”
Her eyes dropped to my mouth again. Then back to mine.
“No,” she whispered. “Not anymore.”
But she did not move further. And I did not ask her to. For tonight, this was enough. Her choice. Her kiss. Her stopping point. And the first time she did not run from wanting more. Lia leaned forward after a moment and rested her forehead lightly against my shoulder. It was so gentle that it almost hurt “Is this okay?” she asked.
I looked down at her “With me?”
“With Yeji.”
The question was quiet. Important. I turned my head toward the pavilion lights. Yeji was still somewhere beyond them, probably being emotionally tortured by Nayeon and Sana while Jihyo pretended not to enjoy it.
I smiled softly “She knows you matter to me.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It is.”
Lia lifted her head. I met her eyes “And if you need to hear the other part, I will talk to her. Properly. Not because this was wrong. Because you deserve not to carry uncertainty by yourself.”
Lia’s face changed. Not fully relieved. But steadier.
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
She nodded. Then, after a second, she leaned in and kissed me again. Shorter this time. Still soft. But less afraid.
When she pulled back, her cheeks were pink “That’s enough for tonight.”
I smiled “Okay.”
“Don’t sound proud of me.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
“I am a little.”
She groaned and looked away “That is embarrassing.”
“It is also true.”
Lia picked up her tea again, but her hand was steadier now. We stood there for another minute, shoulder to shoulder, watching the water. Just letting the first step be exactly what it was.
From the pavilion, Yuna’s voice suddenly rose “Lia?” Lia closed her eyes “I am going to throw that notebook into the ocean.” I laughed “She found you.”
“She always finds me when she needs supervision.”
“Do you want to go back?”
Lia looked at the water. Then at me. Then she smiled, small and tired and real “In a minute.” So we took one more minute. The retreat continued behind us. But out here, beneath the night air, Lia had crossed the smallest line in the quietest way. And somehow, that made it feel larger than if she had run.
By the time I returned to the villa, the resort had gone quiet in pieces. Not asleep. Not fully. Somewhere beyond the garden path, I could still hear faint laughter from the pavilion. Yuna’s voice rose once, immediately followed by Lia saying something that sounded like a warning. Ryujin laughed after that. Then the ocean swallowed the rest.
Our room was dim when I stepped inside.
Only the balcony light was on.
Yeji sat outside with one knee drawn up beneath her, wearing one of my shirts like she had every right to steal from my suitcase. Her hair was loose now, brushed soft over one shoulder. The night wind moved through it gently.
She did not turn around immediately. That was how I knew she knew. Not everything. But enough. I closed the door behind me. Yeji looked over her shoulder.
“Hi.”
Her voice was soft. Not suspicious. Not angry. Just awake.
“Hi.” I said back.
I walked toward the balcony, slower than I needed to. Yeji watched me the whole way.
“You were gone for a while.”
“I know.”
She turned back toward the ocean. I sat beside her, leaving a careful space between us at first. Yeji noticed. Of course she did. After everything that had happened today, she still noticed the smallest distance.
“Ben.”
I looked at her. Her expression was calm, but her eyes were too clear for me to pretend badly.
“What happened?”
I exhaled.
“Lia kissed me.”
Yeji did not move. The ocean filled the silence for a few seconds. Then she nodded once. Small. Controlled.
“Okay.”
I waited. Because okay did not mean finished. It meant she was making room for the rest.
“She found me by the beach,” I said. “I went out for air after dinner. No cigarette.”
Yeji glanced at me.
“Good.”
“I thought you would ask.”
“I was going to.”
That almost made me smile. Almost.
“She said she has feelings for me.”
Yeji’s face softened by a degree.
“She said it?”
“Yes.”
“That must have been hard for her.”
“It was.”
Yeji looked down at her hands.
“Did she force herself?”
That question hit me harder than jealousy would have. Because of course that was the first thing Yeji asked. Not whether Lia touched me. Not whether I kissed her back. Not whether she should be upset. Whether Lia had pushed herself past what she could handle.
“No,” I said quietly. “But she almost tried to.”
Yeji’s eyes lifted to mine.
“She kissed me first,” I continued. “I kissed her back. Carefully. She reached for more, then stopped herself.”
Yeji listened without interrupting.
“I told her she didn’t have to force herself.”
Her shoulders loosened. Just slightly.
“That was the right thing to say.”
“I hoped it was.”
“It was.”
The certainty in her voice settled something in me. I leaned back against the balcony chair and stared out at the dark water.
“She asked if it was okay with you.”
Yeji looked at me. I turned back to her.
“I told her I would talk to you properly. Not because it was wrong, but because she deserves not to carry uncertainty by herself.”
For a while, Yeji said nothing. Then she reached across the small space between us and took my hand. Her fingers slid between mine, warm and steady.
“Thank you for telling me.”
I looked down at our hands.
“I always will.”
“I know.”
Her thumb moved once over my knuckles.
“But I still appreciate it.”
That somehow hurt more than being scolded. Yeji looked at the ocean again.
“I’m not angry.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
I looked at her. She smiled faintly, but it was tired.
“I wanted to know,” I admitted. “Not because I thought you would be cruel. I know you wouldn’t. But because this is… a lot.”
“It is.”
“And it keeps getting bigger.”
“Yes.”
“And somehow I keep standing in the middle of all of you, trying not to ruin something I don’t even fully understand yet.”
Yeji’s grip tightened.
“You’re not standing in the middle alone.”
I looked at her. She looked back. In that way that still felt too undeserved to name carelessly.
“You came back and told me,” she said. “That matters.”
“I will always come back and tell you.”
“I need that.”
“I know.”
“No.” Her voice dropped softer. “I need you to know I need that. Not because I don’t trust you. Not because I think Lia did anything wrong. But because silence makes stories when people are scared.”
That line stayed in the air between us.
“Then no silence.”
“No silence,” she repeated.
I lifted her hand and kissed her knuckles. Yeji watched me do it, expression softening despite herself.
“She has been standing at the edge for a while,” she said.
“Lia?”
Yeji nodded.
“I think she knows what she feels. She just doesn’t know how to move without feeling like one step means she has to take all of them.”
“That’s what it felt like.”
“Then don’t pull her over.”
“I won’t.”
“Let her step.”
“I will.”
Yeji turned her face toward the water again.
“She deserves that.”
“She does.”
“And if she stops, let her stop.”
“I did.”
“I know.”
Her voice gentled “That is why I’m not angry.”
I looked at her for a long moment. Then something in me broke open quietly. The kind of feeling that arrived without asking and sat directly in the center of my chest.
“You know,” I said, “every time I think I understand how much I love you, you make it worse.”
Yeji blinked. Her cheeks colored “Ben.”
“I mean it.”
She looked down, but I did not let myself stop. Not this time.
“I don’t know how to explain this without sounding insane.”
“That has never stopped you before.”
I smiled faintly “Fair.”
Her thumb brushed my hand again. So I tried. “Everything around us is complicated. Everyone matters. I care about them. I don’t want to lie about that. I don’t want to diminish it because that would be unfair to them, and it would be unfair to you too.” Yeji stayed quiet. Listening. “But my heart keeps finding you first.” Her breath caught. I looked at her properly. “No matter how loud the room gets. No matter who needs me. No matter what happens with anyone else. I come back to you in my head before I even know I’m doing it.”
Yeji’s eyes softened. “You’re the place I return to,” I said. “Not because you demand it. Not because you hold it over anyone. Because you keep choosing me even when you could make this harder. You keep choosing honesty over jealousy. You keep choosing kindness toward them when it would be easier to make everything smaller so it hurts less.”
Her eyes shone now. She looked away quickly, but I saw it. I always saw her. “That does not make me perfect,” she whispered. “I don’t need perfect. I need you.”
She turned back to me. The words had landed. I could see it in the way her face changed, embarrassment and tenderness fighting for space. “I love them in the ways this life has made possible,” I said quietly. “But I love you like home.”
Yeji’s mouth trembled slightly “Do not say things like that if you don’t want me to cry.”
“I can stop.”
“No.”
I smiled “No?”
She shook her head once “No.”
So I leaned closer “I love you, Yeji.”
Her eyes closed for a second. Like she needed to hold the words somewhere safe before answering. Then she opened them and looked at me “I love you too.”
Simple. Barely above a whisper. Enough to undo me. I cupped her cheek. She leaned into my hand without hesitation. For a moment, neither of us moved. Then she said, very softly:
“I’m still your girlfriend.”
“I know.”
“Not your wife.”
“I know.”
Her eyes narrowed faintly “But…”
I waited. Her cheeks turned pink again “But if you keep being honest with me like this, I might keep letting you get away with calling me that.” I smiled slowly “That sounds like a policy.”
“It is not a policy.”
“Wife privileges?”
She groaned “Do not ruin the emotional moment.”
“I would never.”
“You are actively doing it.”
“I love you.”
She tried to glare. Failed immediately. Then she leaned forward and kissed me. Loving in a way that made the rest of the night quiet around us.
I kissed her back with both hands careful at her waist, not pulling too hard, not asking for more. Just holding her there. Letting the kiss be what it needed to be after everything else the day had carried.
When she pulled away, her forehead rested against mine.
“I’m glad you came back,” she whispered.
“I always will.”
Her eyes stayed closed “Good.”
“Because my wife would be annoyed if I didn’t?”
Her eyes opened. She stared at me. Then, despite herself, she smiled “Yes,” she said. “Very annoyed.” I laughed quietly. She kissed me again before I could make it worse.
Eventually, we went back inside.
The room was still softly lit, the bed still imperfect from earlier, the ocean still moving beyond the balcony doors. Yeji turned off the light while I pulled the blanket back. She climbed in first, then immediately reached for me like the conversation had left her too tender to pretend she did not need contact.
I joined her.
She settled against my chest, one arm across my waist, her leg tucked between mine. I wrapped myself around her and pressed a kiss into her hair. For a while, she traced lazy circles against my side. Then her hand drifted to my chest. To the place beneath the fabric where her name still rested in temporary ink.
She did not say anything. She only left her hand there. I covered it with mine. Yeji exhaled softly “Tomorrow,” she murmured, half-asleep already, “no chaos.”
I closed my eyes “Of course.”
A pause. Then, from somewhere deep in her fading consciousness
“That sounded fake.”
“It was a little fake.”
Her tired laugh warmed my chest.
“Good night, Benjie.”
“Good night, Yeji.”
She shifted closer. Still mine. Still herself. Still choosing me. And for the first time since the retreat began, the silence did not feel like something waiting to be broken.
D.A | The Way You Look Tonight ft Sullyoon, Haewon, Bae.
length: 19.2k words✦
Male reader X Sullyoon, Haewon, Bae.
🔙 Previous update | 📄 The Way You Look Tonight | 🔜 Next update.
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She hadn't done that. It was a figment of your imagination.
No, wait, yes she had. And in a very shameless way. What the fuck.
Sullyoon had told you, before going on stage, that she would do something that would be like a little wink towards you that she was sure you would love. You thought it would be some cute heart sign, or a literal wink at you. But no, the sassy little slut had pulled down the lace shorts she was wearing to her hips, so everyone could see her belly. She had them up after a few seconds, but it was enough for you to become feral.
You had clearly been left speechless. It's not like you have much to say, though; you were so horny that you needed something. Her. As fast as possible. You would miss part of the live performance, yes. But you could see it later, minor details.
Without attracting much attention you snuck out of sight of the staff members. The main building—not the front wing, the one just behind the stage— of Dankook University was quite big. There would almost certainly have to be some empty, remote room. For the love of God, so be it.
You searched through each of the four floors patiently. Unfortunately, the first three floors were busy enough that trying anything was impossible. But also much to your fortune, and almost like a divine gift, you found your holy grail at the end of a hallway on the top floor.
It was a large room with a high ceiling, full of unlit tubular lamps. As soon as you entered, you were greeted by the sight of an immense white wall in the background, with what appeared to be a projection screen rolled up from end to end. The tables were arranged in two rows on each side, each with four chairs. At the end of the aisle left by the seats, and in front of the white wall, was a single longer table with two chairs. It must have been a meeting room, or something like that. It would work more than fine.
Everything in there was taciturn, with enough light to know where everything was and not trip. But it was better that it remained that way; a single room with the lights on was going to raise suspicions much faster than you could imagine. You were lying if you didn't say it was kind of creepy. But the sound of the music, muffled and distant after passing through several layers of cement, somehow managed to counteract the spooky vibes.
You were forced to wait sitting in one of the two chairs at the back, probably dedicated to some dean or lecturer, but now used by a young man eager to fuck his girlfriend. You even took the liberty of making yourself comfortable, since you didn't know how long it would take Sully to get off the stage. So you put both feet up on the table and sank into the seat before pulling out your phone.
You wrote a message to Sully. One that she would see as soon as she picked up her phone when she saw that you weren't there when she got off stage. Simple and precise. About half an hour passed before you received a response.
Sully took longer than you expected to arrive. But you couldn't complain about it. She would surely have to comply with some protocol when leaving the stage, like taking off her in-ear headphones and all that complicated singer stuff. About fifteen more minutes had passed until she entered.
Seeing her face when she walked through the door and found the immense dark space was like a fun reflection of you. She had already noticed where you were since she set foot inside the room. But still, as she walked between the tables, she scrutinized each corner in case some evil spirit decided to assault her.
You just looked at her with a smile that denoted nothing more than pure love. That day she was carrying a couple more levels of spiciness. You could tell by the way she swayed her hips when she walked, and the confidence in which she did it. And how could you blame her? That sexy waist… those long, meaty legs… her tummy, hot as always… and damn, that messy dark hair.
It was fucking fascinating. A perfect sculpture of a woman. And yours.
"Daddy… wasn't there a scarier room?" She asked when she was a couple of meters away from you.
You took your feet off the table and rolled your chair back. Then you spread your legs, a clear signal for Sully to take a seat.
"I literally didn't find any other option, honey. I'm sorry." you said, as she walked around the table in front of you and went straight to sit on your lap, on the side of your left thigh.
Sully raised one thigh to rest it on top of yours, and she wrapped her arms around your neck. From that distance you could see how her body was still covered in a light layer of sweat, shining by the light of a bright street lamp outside. Damn, she looked so sexy you were going to explode.
She gave you a sly smile and kissed your cheek, then your jaw, and then a peck on your lips. You put one hand on her thigh and with the other you surrounded her waist.
"Well, if you made me come here for what I believe, I guess it doesn't matter," she whispered.
The memory came to your mind. Every detail about that moment when she almost made your jaw hit the floor.
"You're a sassy little slut, you know?" You raised an eyebrow, squeezing her thigh gently. "Pulling down your shorts? That's going a bit far."
You placed the hand you had on her thigh on her belly and slowly moved it up to rub the side of her torso. Sully stared at you, while she played with the hair on the back of your neck.
"But I'm wearing safety shorts underneath daddy… even like that?"
"Thousands of people saw you in just those safety shorts. I think that's quite a lot."
"It was only a couple of seconds!" she protested with a little smile. You smiled too, but you managed to hide it by bringing your face to her long neck to give her small kisses.
"Yeah but you already know how possessive I am of you…" you murmured against her skin, while rubbing her waist up and down.
You heard Sully give a small gasp, and she 'inadvertently' dropped her hand to rest on your cock. She didn't squeeze or grab anything, she just left it there. You put your hand on her thigh and rubbed it up and down, rubbing the back of your hand near her crotch.
"Daddy… but you know I made that just for you."
"And what did you want to cause?"
"Well…"
"Being fucked by me as soon as you got off that stage," you interrupted, placing deeper kisses on her neck, with small bites.
Sully moaned and finally squeezed your cock, in a gentle but also deep way. She then massaged it again and again until it started to get hard. You returned favors and stuck one hand directly inside her shorts and her safeties, until you reached her pussy and rubbed it with your fingers. Gently, up and down.
She turned her head, desperately searching for your lips, and you looked up to give them to her. You melted into a fiery, deep kiss. You stifled small moans inside each other's mouths, while you touched each other's intimacies. She melted just from your fingers, which had made her wet in less than a minute.
Your cock was already hard under your pants; Sully reached under them, to grab your shaft and surround it with her fine, soft fingers. She let out a louder moan and squeezed hard. She then separated from your lips, stood up, and with her eyes on you she took off her now surely famous lace shorts to leave them on the table. She was now only in her safeties when she sat on top of you again, this time straddling you.
With your girlfriend's thighs now on either side of your hips the groping intensified. First you wrapped your arms around her body, one behind her waist and the other across her back. You pressed her against you, feeling the warmth of her body against yours as you kissed.
Sully, with her hands on the sides of your neck, moved her hips back and forth, grinding against your hard bulge. You lowered your hands and placed them on her ass, squeezing each buttock firmly. The kiss then became a battle between your tongues, which swirled around each other.
After a few long seconds Sully separated from your lips and put her hands on your chest. Her breathing was heavy, and her cheeks were flushed, just like yours.
"Daddy… I'd love to suck your cock right now, but we don't have much time. I said I needed to go to the bathroom."
You let out a sigh, disappointed.
"It will have to wait, then."
"Do you want me to ride you as compensation?"
"I don’t even know why are you asking, baby," you nodded, and bit her bottom lip gently.
As soon as Sully got off you, you were already with your hands on the hem of your pants; you lowered them by raising your hips, including your boxers, to your ankles. Sully meanwhile did the same. She turned her back to you, and she pulled down her safeties and her panties to get both off her legs.
You and your girlfriend worked as a perfectly coordinated team: while you were spitting on your cock and making it very slippery, Sully had already taken a couple of steps back and had bent her knees to leave her ass floating above your cock, which you held straight so she only had to impale herself on it.
"Mmmm…" Sully moaned softly, as she slowly lowered her ass until it rested against your pelvis, your cock now hidden between her butt cheeks.
Your girlfriend's pussy felt as silky and tight as ever. You growled, hands gripping her waist. She rested her hands on your knees, and turned to look at you with an amazing movement of her hair, which left it all in front of her left shoulder. Her eyes stayed locked on yours, just as she started moving her ass up and down.
You squeezed Sully's waist between your fingers, teeth clenched and your toes curled inside your shoes. She bit her lip and left her mouth ajar, her moans soon twisting her face until a few seconds later she was unable to hold your gaze.
She bounced faster and harder, and the sound of her flesh slapping against yours reverberated through the large, once silent room. Added to that were Sully's moans, and also the two spanks you gave to her left buttock. Her shiny hair looked very tempting to pull, but you'd do it a different way.
You let Sully bounce as much as she wanted on your cock, but when you thought she had enough of it, you made her stop and stood up with her, taking her in front of the table and bending her over it. She looked at you over her shoulder, her hands resting on the cold surface and her stomach flat against it.
"Is daddy going to punish me for being too much of a slut?" she asked, not with her puppy dog eyes, but with those bold, sharp, piercing eyes.
Sully had become like that over time. Spicy. Naughty. It wasn't like you were complaining about it, quite the opposite: it was a plus that you didn't know you needed in her until it just started happening. You definitely had to thank Chaeyoung's influence, and maybe a little bit of Yeseo’s and Jiheon’s. That trio of demons had transformed Sully into a monster.
"And what if I only enhance how much of a slut you are thanks to that?" you asked back, one hand kneading and squeezing her buttocks as you rested balls deep inside her.
She giggled and thought about it for a moment, before looking into your eyes again.
"Then you can punish me again… and again, and again. Until I stop being a sassy slut."
You chuckled.
"I see no way that could happen, darling."
You gave her a single hard pump, which made her let out a moan.
"Great. That way I can be daddy's sex doll all the time… and without getting tired."
Oh, my God. She outdid herself this time. That deserved that you do it too, no less.
The first instinct you had, this time yes, was to grab a handful of her hair and pull it back to arch her back. Then you started fucking her, fast, hard and without any shame because of the noise you were making.
Sully also showed no shame for looking as horny as you were. She moaned, grunted, and muttered all kinds of curses to herself while you hammered her pussy from behind. At one point she slammed her open palm on the table, so hard it sounded like a small explosion.
"Punish me daddy! Hard! As hard as you want to!" she whimpered, and you complied with her request, giving each buttock a spicy spank with squeeze included.
Having made sure that your hands had been marked in red on her buttocks, you gave another tug on her hair so that she could lift her body. Then you quickly grabbed her neck and shoulder and pressed your chest and back together.
From there you were able to fill the side of Sully's face with kisses and bites. Your fingers clung tightly to her neck as you pumped as hard as you could, not afraid to split her in half. She turned her face and met your lips, instantly capturing them to muffle moans against them.
You used your other arm to wrap around her belly and feel that soft flesh for a moment. Then you lowered your hand and reached for her pussy, to rub her clit as best as you could between all the shakes. Sully stopped kissing you and left her mouth slightly open, brushing against yours. She was unable to make coherent sounds, paralyzed with pleasure.
You were staring into each other's eyes when she flinched and a sudden spasm signaled that she was cumming. Sully grabbed onto your right wrist with both hands and squeezed it, finally letting out a deep, savage growl that showed how delighted she was.
She tensed against your body and dug her nails into your wrist, moving somewhat messily against your cock. You only waited a few seconds, between slow pumps, to get out of her and grab her by the waist and turn her around.
As if she were able to read your mind, the first thing she did—without you telling her—was sit on the edge of the table and spread her legs wide for you. Her pretty pussy, soaked and perfectly shaved, at your mercy. The idea of falling to your knees and eating her out was very appealing. But it was going to be a big delay for her, so you defeated your intrusive thoughts that time.
"I feel like I haven't been punished enough daddy…" Sully said, a few strands of hair stuck to her face. "Is that all you fucking have for me?"
You let out an incredulous giggle and shook your head. She sounded exactly like Shuhua. Bad examples everywhere.
"Shut your mouth and don't poke me with the stick, Seol Yoonah," you raised a finger in warning, and then you settled between her legs to leave your cock resting on her lower abdomen.
There was a silence between the two of you. You just stared at each other.
"Or-what?" she finally said, defiantly.
You sighed.
Very well, you should give her what she wanted, then. You raised one hand and gave her such a slap that her face was turned to one side, and her hair covered that side. Sully let out a groan and smiled. Before she could say anything, you grabbed your cock and guided it back into her pussy.
Whatever she was going to say was replaced with a cute squeal. She looked into your eyes, still with that damn victorious smile on her face. It wasn't until you started pumping in and out, and you gave her another slap, that her smile turned into a sexy grimace of pleasure.
"Let it be clear that you asked for it."
You reached behind her back, grabbed a fistful of her hair, and pulled it back so that her neck was as exposed as possible for you to kiss while you fucked her.
"I'm not saying otherwise…" she moaned as you filled every corner of her neck with saliva. "I would do it again."
"What a fucking whore you've become, huh?" you growled, and bit her jaw.
"So what?" She put a hand on the back of your neck and tangled her fingers in strands of your hair. "Daddy loves it… and I love being daddy's little whore."
You growled and let go of her hair to stand up straight, grab her waist with an iron grip and hammer her pussy without any mercy. Sully was a good girl and kept her legs spread wide, even between moans and crashes.
You had your teeth clenched, crazy about the way you made her face twist. That girl was the living representation of duality in people: for most of the time she was an innocent little angel, worthy of being kept in a little glass box. But mother of god, now, when she was getting fucked, she was like the hottest porn actress.
"D-Daddy?"
"Yes darling?" you managed to say.
"Can I swallow your load? Mmmh!" she asked between whimpers. "I want to have it in my mouth… please!"
Of course that was like plugging a USB killer directly into your brain. You could no longer keep your mind distracted to last more, no matter how much that was your goal. Words like those, coming out of her mouth at a moment like that, were like a spell that was impossible to repel.
"Get off," you ordered.
You pulled out of her pussy and Sully jumped off the table. She instantly fell to her knees in front of your cock, the tip of which she put inside her mouth to jerk your shaft as fast as she could. This led to an orgasm that made you moan out loud.
You shot stream after stream of thick cum into your girlfriend’s mouth, who had dispensed with the use of her hand; now only moving her mouth across your cock in a slow and sensual blowjob that had the sole objective of draining your balls.
She watched you at all times, even when she gave you the most mind-blowing deepthroat, with no gag reflex or even a single god damn hint of it. This time you had to thank Yeseo. That little nympho whore.
When nothing else came out of your cock, Sully pulled you out of her mouth with a loud slurp. She then stuck out her tongue so you could see how she had swallowed it all, and it had been a considerable load.
"Fuck… and you don't even deserve it," you gasped, brushing Sully's hair out of her face.
"I'll have to share you later, daddy," she replied as she placed affectionate kisses down your shaft. "Not with one but two more people. It seems like a fair way to make it up to me."
You sighed, looked into nothingness and gave up looking for an answer.
"Yeah, you're right. But you don't deserve it."
"Oh come on daddy, relax a little," she jumped to her feet and showered your face with kisses. "I'm always a good girl… but well, today I wanted to tease you."
You raised an eyebrow.
"Slut. Sassy slut."
Sully smiled from ear to ear.
"Only yours. Are you going to complain?"
"Not in the least. Now come on, get dressed, we have to go."
Sully obeyed and hurried to get dressed just like you. She fixed herself as best she could, but there was still a small trace of red on her cheek where you had given her the first slap. She would find a convincing excuse, she always did. But Haewon would probably be the first to connect the dots; she was formidable at it.
"You go first, I'll go wait in the car," you said behind her, as you combed her hair the best you could.
"You're sure?" she asked, looking ahead. "Don't you want to say goodbye to the girls? Jiwoo will kill you for not doing so."
"I'll submit to her judgment later," you turned her around and gave her hair the finishing touches. "But even arriving minutes after you is very suspicious."
"Do you really think no one knows what we do?" she raised an eyebrow.
"No one knows we did it just now. You said you were going to the bathroom, and I just disappeared."
"But you left without saying anything before I got off the stage, right?"
Shit.
"Uh… yeah."
"Then it's the same thing. It's just as suspicious," she raised two knuckles and tapped you on the forehead.
"Um… whatever. I'm not going to put up with Lily's teasing today."
Sully shrugged and shook her head.
"As you wish, daddy," she snuggled into your chest and gave you a loving kiss. "I'll see you in an hour, maybe less."
"Count on it, my love," you nodded, and after placing a kiss on her forehead, Sully turned away and headed for the exit.
Waiting in your car was no bother to you; you were so proud of it and of yourself that you took advantage of any slightest excuse to use it.
That Purosangue was an exact copy of the one you had rented that time in Milan to hang out with Hanni: black chrome on the outside, only with cream-colored interior upholstery. Ordering it to be brought to Korea had been almost as expensive as the damn car; it was only possible thanks to a couple of good investments you had made last year. And yet, you were still recovering financially from that purchase.
But it was already yours, it was already there. And damn, you were happier than a kid in a toy store.
You knew that the supposed waiting hour that Sully had promised would be longer, so as soon as you sank into the car seat, you took out a jar of Pringles from a bag in the back seat and opened a live video on Instagram to chat with your followers. The number of spectators rose at an alarming rate; at that point, an hour and a few minutes later, you had about 9k.
"Bro where you at…" you read among the comments. It was a question you expected, since you had the lights inside off and the only thing visible about your face was thanks to the university light. "I'm in my car, uhm… waiting."
You put a chip in your mouth and continued reading.
"Waiting for what?" you read again. "Death. My Italian ass has always wanted to die inside a Ferrari."
Laughter after laughter in the comments. You did your best to stay serious and make it even funnier.
"I don't know what you're laughing about, I'm serious."
You looked to the left, towards the covered parking lot where the girls were supposed to appear at any moment. It was the most discreet option possible, since it was not a very busy area at that time and that specific building was the furthest from all the crowds.
"Dude, who is that girl in your backseat?" you read, and your eyes widened as you turned around and slammed the phone down, by pure reflex. There was no one. For a moment you thought that, for some reason, one of the girls had somehow sneaked into the car. But it was a joke. "Bro, oh my god I'm gonna ban you… oh no, right, this is Instagram."
The live was filled with comments from people curious about why you had covered the camera so quickly. You didn't read any out loud. One in particular said: 'This dude has a girlfriend who doesn't want to show on camera.' Close, pretty close.
"Do your gossiping asses want to know the truth? Aight, I have a famous girlfriend and if I show her I’m gonna be in serious trouble, what's the matter?"
You read for a few seconds, and the truth was that you were making an inhuman effort not to laugh.
"A From Software fan getting hoes? Good joke brother, try better," you read, and a smile escaped your lips. Thank god you had a chromosome graveyard as a chat. "But I’m handsome as fuck!" you protested. "Still From Software fan," you clicked your tongue. "Aight bro."
Another fifteen minutes passed where you were discussing random things with the chat. That day you weren't particularly willing to give a serious opinion about anything, so you were just contradicting everyone for fun.
"Bro, there's no way you're going to make me say non-ironically that Dark Souls 2 is a good game."
Something new in your peripheral vision made you look away from the screen to look to the left. Three people emerged from the parking lot, wrapped in heavy coats and caps that covered their eyes. It was them.
"Alright, bunch of virgins, I have to go, fuck y’all. Have a nice night," you showed the middle finger to the camera and ended the live.
You were in a pretty bad posture for your back, so as you straightened up in your seat you let out a moan worthy of an old man. One of the girls, probably Haewon because of her height—or the lack of it—, had seen you and burst out laughing as she walked around the car front.
The girl opened the passenger door, and when you saw her eyes you confirmed that it was Haewon.
"Were you doing yoga or what?" she asked, sitting in the passenger seat, while Bae and Sully took the back seats. She then took off her cap and leaned to kiss your cheek.
"I had to get comfortable while I waited for you, woman."
You pressed the touch button on the steering wheel and started the car.
"I couldn't even see you until you decided to sit up straight, oppa," Bae said from behind, followed by a chuckle from Sully. "Is your back okay?"
"Fuck, I'd love to say yes," you sighed, looking down the street, and turned right to circle the campus. "Did something happen? You took longer than I expected."
Haewon also took off her coat, underneath it she was wearing the same pants that she wore for the stage, but on top instead of the college sweater she was only wearing a white, tight-fitting crop top with thin straps. In the rearview mirror you noticed that Sully and Bae had done the same.
"Oh you know, trying to convince manager-nim," she said, as if it were a trivial thing. "It was a little tougher this time. We have more university festivals over the next few days."
"Another tomorrow, right?"
"Yeah," the three of them said in unison, in an exhausted tone.
"What time should I take you tomorrow, then?" you asked, finally leaving the university campus behind.
"At two in the afternoon," Haewon replied as she looked at her phone.
"Aight, we have time to relax a little then."
"Well, I don't know about you," Bae said. "But as soon as I arrive I'll take a shower and go straight to bed."
"Why are you so boring!" Sully complained. "We were going to play Monopoly!"
"It'll only be a couple of hours! I'm exhausted."
"Well, you'll have to sleep with the AirPods on because…" Haewon began, but she left the sentence hanging in the air.
You smiled, already knowing what she meant. But you looked out the window as you stopped at a traffic light.
"Huh? What do you mean by that?" Bae asked.
"I think you better listen to her," Sully said with a chuckle.
"That's how loud you are playing Monopoly?"
You and Haewon looked at each other. She couldn't hold back her laughter and turned to look at Bae.
"We're not going to play Monopoly," she said.
"Wait, we won't?" Sully said.
"Oh my god…" you mumbled to yourself, in disbelief.
"I mean, yeah. But you know, we wanted to play something else."
“Ahhhh…” you saw Sully nod out of the corner of your eye as you looked out the window. "True, true."
There was silence between the four of you. Now only the low noise of the radio could be heard, which you were forced to turn up a little. The light turned green, so you started again. Haewon stared at her phone, and Sully had pulled out her iPad, where you heard she was playing Minecraft.
"Ohhh!" Bae said, breaking the silence, as if she had discovered a secret of the universe. "You're gonna have sex!"
Haewon locked her phone and closed her eyes with a deep breath. You remained expressionless, and swallowed, short of words to say. Sully on the other hand dropped the iPad on the mat under her feet.
"Am I invited?" she asked, and there was another silence.
Haewon opened her eyes and looked at you. You shrugged. You had never fucked with Bae, mostly because you had never fooled around like that unlike with Lily or Jiwoo. But that night could be a perfect chance.
"I’m cool with it," you said. "But those decisions go through Sullyoonie first."
Well, most of them. Some others went through Chaeyoung, others through Hanni, and others through Jiheon. Few things were your direct responsibility. Like when days ago, Lily gave you so many signs that she wanted to get fucked bu you that you gave in to her Australian charm, to which you were already weak.
"Yeah, why not? It'll be fun," said Sully, whose view you knew was on the iPad screen and not on you.
"Yay!" Bae said.
“The only thing you need to know is that I…” Haewon started to say.
"But I still decline the offer. I want to sleep," Bae interrupted.
Haewon closed her eyes again and took another deep breath. You raised your eyebrows and brought a hand to your forehead. Bae knew how to get you off your nerves, but this time she had taken it as a challenge.
"You try to get in and I'll kick you out, Bae Jinsol," Sully warned seconds later, in a low but threatening voice.
"And I'm going to moan so loud that you'll have to go out on the balcony," Haewon said.
"No, because I'll have the AirPods on."
You couldn't help but giggle as you shook your head. Haewon glared at you, so you had to cover your mouth and hold back your smile.
"Alright, all three of you shut your mouths," you said, and looked in the rearview mirror. As you expected, Sully was staring at her iPad, while Bae, sitting in the middle, just looked at both sides of the street. "We have an hour left on the trip so, enjoy the music."
What better option than playing DAMN? That's what you did, after asking Haewon for help to take your phone and connect it to the car herself. Then you could focus on driving.
The rest of the trip was more than peaceful: you and Haewon vibed to every song on the album and sang some verses together. You just didn't sing during PRIDE; it reminded you of your night with Hanni in Milan, probably one of the most fulfilling moments of your life. The lyrics didn't go with her or with you, but it was common to associate songs with people for random reasons. That was Hanni's.
Who by the way, was now a cute femboy. My god. The things you were going to do.
Bae asked for the name of some songs. Sully, well. Sully kept playing Minecraft until you arrived in Seongsu-dong, where you had now lived since October of last year. The apartment wasn't yours yet; you paid it in installments thanks to a mortgage loan, which you estimated you could pay in full by the middle of next year if you managed to close a sponsorship deal that this company had offered you less than a week ago.
After considerable floors in the elevator and walking through a small corridor, you finally arrived at your place. The first thing you saw when you opened the door was a small hallway, with two doors on each side: one was a small closet that you used to dry clothes and the other was your laundry room.
Once you crossed the hallway you finally found the big elegant space, made up mostly of the living room, located to the left, and the dining table and the kitchen, right in front of you. The smell of sandalwood essence, emanated from your air freshener, immediately delighted your nostrils.
The room walls were white, while the corridor ones were made of dark oak wood. The countertops, and the kitchen in general, were made of a beautiful polished marble that blended perfectly with the gray floor. In the living room, the furniture was mostly gray and others were brown, color also present in some cushions and various decorations.
The place was everything you ever wanted in a house. It was cozy and elegant, with a color palette that had you in love and a considerable number of windows arranged along the entire wall. You had left the blinds open, so the first thing you did was go to close them.
"Ahhh!" Bae squealed, blurting out all of her stuff in front of the hallway, "Hi Rory!"
Rory was the gorgeous ragdoll cat that you had adopted thanks to Chaeyoung's idea a year ago. Bae had run to hug her and shower her with kisses. She was a quiet and lazy cat; she wasn't exactly affectionate, but she didn't avoid contact with humans either. She didn't care at all, basically.
But she wasn't the only furry being in your house at the time.
"Helios!" Sully greeted as she headed towards the other hallway, the one that led to the bedrooms.
Helios, on the other hand, was a toyger cat. You had also adopted him thanks to Chaeyoung, who didn't have to put much effort into convincing you since you were a cat lover before. He, unlike Rory, loved physical affection, a constant demander of attention and pampering. Although he was significantly dumber.
Sully bent down to pet him and disappeared into the hallway, probably to leave her things in your room.
"Bae Jinsol!" Haewon called, setting her things down on the dining room table. "Pick up your things!"
Bae suddenly turned and looked at her things scattered on the floor, then looked at you, who stood close to her as you closed the blinds of the window in the corner.
"Don't look at me," you shrugged. "She rules when she gets here."
"But it's your house!"
You backed away from the corner and walked to the kitchen, passing Haewon.
"Yeah, I know. But tell that to her."
Bae looked at Haewon, who stared at her without a hint of softness in her eyes. Bae didn't even question her, it was useless. She just stood up and went to pick up her things without saying a word.
“I thought so,” Haewon nodded, satisfied, and she stood next to you as you looked into the fridge for food. She put her hand on your waist and rested her cheek on your arm. "You come with me?"
"Where to?" You took out a plate with a slice of pizza that you had left over from lunch that day.
"To take a shower, of course," she replied, lowering her voice.
"Will you let me eat first?"
"Will you eat my ass later?"
You smiled and looked over your shoulder to make sure Bae was distracted, then you wrapped your arm around Haewon's waist and squeezed her ass.
"Bet."
Haewon bit her lip and turned to look back with an amused expression. You removed your hand from her ass.
"Hey, charred brains!" she called out to Bae, who turned around. She was now sitting next to Rory. "Weren't you going to take a shower?"
"Ah, yeah," Bae nodded, and she stood up to grab her bag. "Oppa, can I use the bathtub?" she asked you.
"Aha. Just make sure you empty it later, please."
"Understood!"
She gave Rory one last caress and disappeared down the same hallway Sully had walked down just minutes ago.
You were left alone with Haewon, who went to lean on the counter behind you, hands on the edge as she watched you. You closed the fridge, left the plate with the slice of pizza on the counter next to the sink and turned to her.
"Aren't you gonna go wait for me in the shower?" You stood in front of her. Your eyes remained fixed.
"Come here and kiss me first, I deserve it for having to deal with that girl every day."
You took another step forward and pressed yourself against her. Then cupped her face in your hands and smashed your lips together without hesitation.
Few pairs of lips were as pleasant to kiss as Haewon's. They were fluffy and thick, with a hazelnut aftertaste thanks to her lip balm, and boy did she know how to use them. You liked that she was always in control when you kissed, since she always knew when to make it slower and more passionate or more disastrous and fiery.
On that occasion, the situation warranted that you taste each other as quickly as possible, so your heads went from side to side in the middle of a wild kiss that was anything but discreet and silent.
You put an arm around her waist and with a little effort you lifted her onto the counter, then she clung to your neck with her arms and your torso with her strong thighs. You grabbed one of her breasts, and with a muffled moan against your lips she reached down to give your cock a squeeze.
"Ezio-oppa, where do you keep the…" Bae said, again from the hallway. She didn't finish the sentence as you abruptly separated from Haewon, whose pale cheeks were now red. "Incense… Not even five minutes oh my god!"
"Uh…" you looked at the ceiling, reorganizing your thoughts. "Inside the sink mirror," you finally answered, still staring up.
"Very well, thank you," she looked at Helios, who was lying on the side of a single couch in the living room. "Helios, come on! Don't watch those things."
You didn't expect Helios to truly obey her, but he did. He followed Bae down the hallway. Rory, on the other hand, had fallen asleep on the couch.
You and Haewon looked at each other.
"Go wait for me in the shower, please," you begged. "If we keep going I'll fuck you right here."
"And what's wrong with that?"
"I'm hungry, woman," you gestured towards the plate of pizza.
Haewon brought her hands to her jeans button and undid them, then leaned back on the counter and with a lift of her hips she took them off. She settled on the surface and spread her legs wide, exposing her slit, covered by white panties from which a tiny wet spot peeked out.
"Haewon…"
"And don't you fancy an entry?" She asked, grabbing her panties to pull them aside and show you her pretty pink pussy.
Your gaze stayed there where Haewon ran two fingers up and down between her folds. You also looked at her thighs and buttocks, both worthy of a volleyball player. All that was left was for her to take off her top and release those pair of perfect round tits that you swore to God didn't stop growing. Still, that was enough to make you give in. Damn woman.
"I'll accept the entrance," you sighed, and stepped forward to replace her hand with yours. "But you'll have to wait for the shower for the main attraction."
You knelt between Haewon's legs, her pussy now inches from your face. Foreplay wasn't necessary, and you didn't want to do it either. So without a second thought you clung to her thighs and buried your mouth in her folds.
“Mmm…” she moaned, stroking your hair as you ran your tongue up and down. "It's funny how easily you always fall for this trick."
"You better shut your mouth before I leave you like this," you said softly, tasting Haewon's pussy more hungrily each time.
She gave your hair a little tug and then continued caressing it, in a rather affectionate way.
"I doubt you want to do that…" she gasped between labored breaths.
"Do not challenge me."
You became more frantic with your licking and sucking, but that led to Haewon becoming louder, which you didn't know how much you cared since there was actually nothing to hide. Maybe it was a matter of protecting the only bit of decorum that you thought you had left, but the reality was that it had all disappeared the first moment you lost your fear of fucking in public places.
Besides, what was the worst that could happen? If Sully came out to see what was happening, she would end up joining anyway. But it was kind of difficult for that to happen. She was probably in your bed, in the exact same clothes she was wearing when she arrived while she played on her iPad. Bae, on the other hand, would already be in the bathtub and you knew she didn't give a damn.
So well, you let Haewon moan as much and as loud as she wanted while you ate her out.
You loved eating her pussy as much as kissing her lips. That's how you let her know every time you did it, letting out soft moans of satisfaction at how delicious it was.
But damn, pizza with sausage, ham and peppers was also exquisite. And your stomach was growling.
"Alright sweetie, let's do this quickly," you said, licking your lips. Then you stood up.
Haewon looked at you with a furrowed brow and was about to protest, but you were quicker and kissed her immediately. She was also about to protest in the middle of the kiss, but then you took your middle and ring fingers inside her pussy.
She let out a whimper against your lips and clutched at your hoodie with one hand, then she crumpled it with a tug as your fingers made their way between her tight walls.
“That's cheating…” she gasped against your lips. "Damn cheater."
"I'm preparing you for when I'm going to fuck your brains out in the shower… how ungrateful."
Without giving her time to take a breath you pumped at a gradually faster and faster pace. Your fingers slid smoothly, soaked in Haewon's glistening fluids. Soon the sound of your palm constantly colliding with her crotch reverberated through the room, as did her loud moans.
Haewon let her head fall back, still clinging to your hoodie as if it were the only thing capable of keeping her in place. You put your free arm around her, and watched her grimace and squirm.
"Please take your cock out and put it inside me!" she asked with a whimper. "Don’t make me wait!"
"Fuck woman, can't you be a little patient?" you asked quietly, and raised an eyebrow. You pumped fast and hard, intensifying the wet sound of her pussy.
"I don't want to be patient, I want you to fill my pussy!" she said with a punch to your chest.
"Shhh… cum, love, come on."
No matter how rude Haewon pretended to be, it was adorable how that combination of words always worked. Like a magical spell of those that Sullyoon applied on you against your will. Haewon closed her thighs around your wrist, which felt like being caught in two hydraulic presses at maximum power. And with a squeal she let herself be carried away by her orgasm.
"Mmmhhh!! Son of a bitch!" she screamed, frustrated, in the midst of intense spasms that you were responsible for keeping at bay with your grip.
"Yeah yeah…" you nodded, making an effort to continue moving your wrist, since it was surrounded by two pieces of muscular flesh.
"I'm not letting you out of that damn shower until you've filled every damn hole in me," she growled, and you knew she meant business.
"Anything you want, cutie. But I want my pizza first."
Haewon closed her eyes and pursed her lips. Her orgasm passed after a few seconds, and only then she did release your wrist.
You didn't know how hard she was really squeezing until you felt how your blood rushed normally to your hand. What a menace of a woman.
"Come on, clean up."
You took your fingers out of her and brought them to her mouth. Haewon accepted them with obvious annoyance, but she didn't complain as she sucked them hard in a taste of her own fluids. When you took your fingers out, they were perfectly clean.
"What makes you think you can order me around?"
You stepped back and let her get off the counter. You turned your back on her and went to the other counter to grab the plate of pizza.
"Go wait for me in the shower, Oh Haewon," you purposely ordered without looking at her, and went to the microwave.
There was no response from her, instead, from the corner of your eye you saw how she reluctantly grabbed her jeans and walked straight towards the hallway. Thank God. Now it was just you with your slice of pizza, which you heated up and ate accompanied by a Pepsi.
You were patient, maybe too patient, with that little alone time you had once Haewon went to the shower. You sat on the large L-shaped sofa for about five minutes. Next to you, a dozing Rory purred when you placed a hand on her back to caress her.
Haewon would probably be mad at you by now for taking so long. But if you were about to be drained by what was probably one of the best asses in the industry and certainly the best pair of thighs, you had to mentally prepare yourself. Because damn, that woman could be pretty intense sometimes.
Besides, you wanted to see a tripleS stage. You were quite in that group for the last few days, and you had a pending video to watch. A couple of them caught your attention, and you had understood from things you had heard and read, that they would be at the Korea University festival tomorrow. The same where NMIXX and NewJeans would perform. Maybe…?
No, you already had enough with all the girls that were in your life, which were not few. The most sensible thing was to be grateful for all the incredible luck you had for a year now and not try to squeeze the handkerchief even more. You didn't want to become a womanizer.
Above all, it was incredibly self-centered and reprehensible thinking for you to believe that where you put your eye you could put the bullet.
The fact that it had worked so far was a matter of, once again, pure luck: you and the girls were mostly a fuck buddy relationship, like it could happen with Yeseo, Shuhua or Rei. They all knew their position and had no emotional bond with you beyond a simple friendship.
Then there were those you considered friends with benefits, a group that included Dani, or Jiheon, or Sumin, or Haewon herself. With them the relationship wasn’t that different since sex was something common, but you did have an emotional bond with them; they were real friends, and you loved them.
Still, very few of those relationships had been born as a whim of yours alone. The rest had been thanks to Sully, Chaeyoung—better known as Lee Isa— and Hanni. Your three babies. Your three loves. They were far from being just friends; there were very strong feelings involved.
You didn't have to push your luck any further. Just no. But those tripleS girls… good lord.
Okay, enough. You were going to let whatever had to happen happen. You weren't going to force anything or play with fire.
You had been deep in your thoughts, and checking the time on your phone you realized that it had been over 20 minutes since Haewon had gone to the shower.
Of course she didn't take long to call you. It wasn't necessary to answer, you just left the phone on the couch and ran to your room. You weren't surprised to find Sully face down on your bed, in her panties and sports bra. Now she was playing Genshin Impact. Next to her was Helios, licking his paw to run it over his head.
You looked to the left. The tall black glass wall that separated the bedroom from the bathroom was closed. Behind would be Bae, having probably the most peaceful moment of the day in the bathtub, music in her ears and incense burning.
You turned to Sully, who hadn't noticed your presence yet since the door was open.
You cleared your throat and leaned your shoulder against the door frame.
"Honey, are you coming?"
“Uh…” Sully took a few seconds to put the iPad down and look at you. "Where, daddy?"
"To the bathroom, with me and Haewon."
"Oh…" she looked thoughtful, then grimaced. "No, I'm exhausted and I don't feel like it anymore for today. I'm sorry daddy."
You smiled and nodded, understanding.
"Nothing to be sorry about, dear," you walked over to the bed, knelt on the edge of it, and leaned forward to kiss her cheek, shoulder, and forehead. "But for the love of God, put on some clothes, or take a shower, I don't know."
"But Bae is using the bathroom!" she objected.
“Bae is using the bathtub,” you corrected. "Not the shower."
"That is the same!"
"Of course not. You can use the shower while she uses the bathtub."
"But-"
"She's seen you naked before, hasn't she?"
"Yes but…" she looked at her iPad and groaned. "Ugh, fine."
Sully reluctantly stood up and went to the glass wall. You stood up too, as Haewon was calling you again.
"Don't be a brat, you weren't going to sleep with me without taking a bath."
"You weren't going to sleep with me without taking a bath," she imitated you in a silly voice, then she stuck her tongue out at you and slid the glass just enough for her to get in without you looking inside.
What bad influences did. Sully was full of them.
You let out a long breath and, before Haewon went out to find you herself, you went to the guest bathroom.
It was considerably smaller than the main bathroom, with the sink just in front of the entrance, the toilet to the right, and the shower to the left. Inside it you found Haewon, already completely naked in the shower, with the phone in her hand. She had removed her extensions, and her short hair was held to the sides of her head by two clips.
And she wasn’t happy. Not at all.
"Haessal…"
'Haessal' was the pet name you had for Haewon. It was the closest thing to a Korean translation of 'Sunshine'. Besides, it was like a cute modification of her real name.
"Haessal my ass," she said as you closed the door behind you. "Come here, Ezio Leone."
You nodded and looked down. You undressed as quickly as you could, but Haewon's gaze burning into your skin made you nervous and you almost crashed into the wall on the right. You cleared your throat to hide your embarrassment, and once naked you went into the shower with her.
"There was no reason for you to spend twenty-five minutes out there," she said, and turned her back on you to slide the glass closest to the sink to leave her phone there. Then closed it again.
You took a step forward, which in that small space left you with your body pressed against hers. Your cock against her round ass. Haewon turned her head and glared at you, as the water from the shower fell between her body and yours.
"I was spending some time with my daughter, woman, can you blame me?"
You surrounded Haewon's body with your two arms, one of them just below her breasts, which you raised a little. The tight hug made the water fall on the back of your neck, but also that you could now feel almost every corner of her against you. Then, you started kissing her neck.
"Liar. I could hear Girls Never Die from here," she said, cold as ice despite your attempts to melt her.
"It was just the song, I was petting Rory."
"You're lying again. I could hear the stage fanchants."
You let out a sigh and gave up, your face buried in her neck.
"Very well, if you insist so much."
With one arm around her abdomen you exchanged positions: she was now on the side of the wall opposite the shower, which now fell on your back. As upset as she seemed, she didn't put up any resistance when you placed a hand on her neck and forced her to bend forward, her hands resting on the ceramic wall.
You got on your knees behind her, her round, firm, perfect ass inches from your face. Having that view was like seeing one of the seven wonders of the world, especially if you looked down a little further and found those beefy thighs ready to be made to tremble.
You didn't make her wait much longer. You grabbed her buttocks, one in each hand, and spread them apart to bury your face between them. You directly attacked her butthole with your tongue, which made Haewon tense up and let out a gasp that you knew was originally a moan, but in her desire to appear cold, she had hidden it.
Let it be a challenge, then. You loved challenges.
Not only did you lick and kiss Haewon's butthole, you also went down every few seconds to lick her pussy, between her folds, and inside her. You squeezed her buttocks, which transformed into two anti-stress masses with a smooth surface and spongy texture. You spanked one of them, and the drops of water on it splashed on you.
"You're cheating again…" she gasped, and you could hear a hint of a moan. "Don't you know any other method to calm me down?"
"I know several," you replied, now working with greater eagerness on her butthole. "But then we'd get cheesy, and right now I just want to fuck the anger out of you."
"Then fucking do it, coward," she snapped.
You spanked her again, harder, hoping she would shut her mouth once and for all. To your surprise she let out a whimper, muffled against her pursed lips. You continued the licks around, against and into her butthole for a few more seconds. But soon your cock felt painfully hard.
You stood up, spit on your hand and brought it to your cock to lubricate it. Then you held Haewon's waist with your left hand, while with the other you guided your tip to her pussy to sink into it with a single slow motion.
"Mmmgh yes!" she moaned loudly, and bit her lower lip hard. "Fucking finally."
If someone told you that even Haewon's pussy was muscular inside you would have believed it without many questions. You gasped, delighting in how extraordinarily good the softness and warmth of her walls felt wrapped around your cock, which was now completely inside her.
"This was what you wanted, wasn't it?" You growled, placing your free hand on her waist as well. "Now moan for me, you tough bitch."
Haewon's pussy was already well lubricated thanks to her own fluids, which meant that you could slide in and out of her without any resistance. That allowed you to hammer her hard and mercilessly right from the start.
She couldn't hold back any longer and finally grimaced, moaning with each frantic thrust that took your cock completely in and out of her. The sound of her firm flesh colliding against yours rang out over the falling water, and reverberated between the walls of the small bathroom.
"Do you think that damn wonderful ass is for decoration?" she asked, looking at it as you make it jiggle with each crash. "Spank it, squeeze it! Hmmgh!"
Complying with such a request was mandatory. But maybe you had gotten a little carried away, since once the first spank fell, you continued again and again. Haewon moaned at first, but with the last few those moans turned into screams of pleasure. You didn't stop until those beautiful buttocks were so red that they looked like they were about to bleed at any moment.
With the spanks covered, you dedicated yourself to squeeze and massage her buttocks, which had to intensify the itch generated by the burning on her skin. You didn't mind, and neither did she, since she was enjoying it even more than you.
You left one hand on her left buttock and brought the other to her hair. It was a shame it wasn't as long as before, but that didn't stop you from grabbing a good handful of it and pulling back.
"Oh my god keep going! You're gonna make me cum so hard!" Haewon screeched, as you pumped without a small hint of exhaustion.
Haewon pursed her lips and wrinkled her forehead, frozen in what were the seconds before her orgasm. She exploded with just a few more thrusts, and slammed the side of her fist into the wall with a grunt.
But you didn't slow down; you fucked her through her orgasm. You grabbed one of her thighs and made her lift her leg, which you held in the air below her knee. Haewon's body was now slightly sideways, allowing you to watch her pair of wet tits bounce again and again.
She was no longer moaning, now she was whimpering. When she opened her eyes to look at you you could see tears in them. Perfect. Did she not want to be railed? May she reap what she sowed in you.
"Are you gonna fill my pussy, you fucking liar?" she growled with a hand on your chest, looking at you with eyes overflowing with lust. "I think you should hurry up. I'm crazy about draining those balls with my mouth too."
You gritted your teeth and groaned in pleasure. You hugged Haewon's thigh with both arms, clinging to it like a koala to a branch. She stretched even further, putting her ankle over your shoulder to rest it there. Now, with that posture worthy of a ballerina, you had the perfect angle to make you enter the final stretch.
Haewon went back to whining. Between that dirty talk towards you she hadn’t realized that another orgasm was just around the corner, because while you destroyed her pussy with fast and strong thrusts, she came again.
She put a hand to her mouth and let out another grunt of pure pleasure, her eyes rolled back. The visual input of her twisted face, the way her thigh trembled under your arms, and the suffocating grip of her pussy were more than enough to make you explode inside her.
"Ughhh!" you growled, resting balls deep inside her as you painted the walls of her pussy in her white. "My god!"
“Oh fuck yes…” she sighed, caressing your chest with her fingers. "That's… put it all inside."
With slow and deliberate pumps you made sure to leave every drop of your load inside her. When you were done, your cock came out like a plug and let a whole ass waterfall of cum seep through her folds and fall to the shower floor. This quickly dissolved in water and disappeared into the drain.
"Let me fucking kiss you for the love of god," you said with a gasp.
"You know I never say no to that," Haewon replied, with a hint of a smile.
"Liar," you said, and took her leg off your shoulder.
Haewon giggled and let you approach her. You turned her around, wrapped your arms around her and lifted her into the air. She gripped her strong thighs around your body, and wrapped her arms around your neck. Then you stuck her back to the wall and kissed her.
It could have been 5 or 15 minutes, you couldn't really tell, because when you kissed Haewon, her addictive lips made you enter a deep trance. You could just go on and on, but a greater need called you.
"Mmmh…" Haewon moaned softly, as you pulled away from her lips and took one of her tits into your mouth. "I was starting to wonder when you were going to give them some love."
"Ever since I got in the shower you've treated me like a piece of trash," you said, perhaps with a little too much drama.
The fact that her tits seemed bigger every day was not an exaggeration at all, although perhaps it was just a product of your mind, which had a special fixation on them. But how could you not have it if those pair of mounds bordered on perfection?
"My god, you're such a crybaby," she teased with a giggle, her fingers affectionately stroking the hair at the nape of your neck. "Would you forgive me, sweetheart?"
You licked and sucked on her nipples, up and down in a slow, tortuous rhythm. Haewon let out another small moan.
"Hmm… it doesn't sound like you mean it," you murmured against the skin of one of her soft mounds, and began placing kisses around her nipples.
"Honey, I spoil you too much," she said, and cradled your face so you were looking into her eyes. "Would you forgive me, please?"
She fluttered her eyelashes and looked at you with a pair of adorable bright eyes. Now she was the one who was cheating; she used her natural charms to manipulate you.
You narrowed your eyes.
"Only if you fill me with kisses."
She raised an eyebrow, amused.
"Didn't you say you didn't want to get cheesy?"
"Do you want me to forgive you or not?"
She rolled her eyes and dutifully placed kisses on every corner of your face, and you found yourself smiling like a fool. Maybe you were a little too spoiled by her.
"Forgiven," you said when she finished, with a little smile.
"Uh huh, now put me down," she patted you on the back twice. "You know I have work to do."
You took her off the wall and let her get off you. As soon as her feet touched the floor, she carefully lowered herself to her knees in front of your cock, still quite smeared on the tip by your own cum. Haewon then took it by the base and the first thing she did was take your tip into her mouth to clean it with gentle sucks.
"Mmm…" She pulled you out of her mouth and placed kisses around your tip. "I hope those balls can give me at least two more."
"Try your luck and see what you find, Haessal."
Haewon stuck her tongue out and planted it under your cock. With a slow head movement she licked upwards, and in the same motion she took half of your shaft into her mouth. You let out a gasp and crossed your hands behind your back. She gave a small moan, as she took you in and out of her mouth.
You took one hand from behind your back and brought it to her cheek to rub it with your thumb; then you placed it on her head, and stroked her hair as she took a couple more inches and sucked more and more hungrily.
She brought one hand to your thigh, and left the other around the base of your cock. Her head pumps became faster, and her suck sounds louder and sloppy. Haewon wasn't able to take you completely inside her mouth, but she sucked what she could so well that it wasn't even missed. She wasn't as prodigious as Rei or Yoon, but she was very good.
Every few seconds she would pull you out of her mouth for air and lick your cock, up the sides, around your tip and also down to your balls to kiss them while she masturbated you with her hand.
After a couple of minutes of messy blowjob, Haewon decided to finish you off quickly. Your cock was slippery, with a thick layer of saliva on top of it which she used to add her hand and move it in combination with her mouth. You gasped, already noticing the consequences on your body. Then she looked into your eyes, expectantly, and used a trick that always worked: she spread her knees and arched her back, so that you could see her magnificent ass raised. That was an instant nut for you.
“You motherfu…” you growled, and gritted your teeth the moment you started shooting a load into her warm mouth. Your hand on the back of her head.
Haewon removed her hand from your shaft and placed them both on the shower floor, now using only her mouth to drain your cock at a slow, sensual pace. You noticed how she swallowed every drop of it, while she let out soft moans of pleasure and slurped every inch of your shaft available to her.
She finally took you out of her mouth, and when you saw your cock, you noticed it was clean and shiny. Haewon caught her breath and filled it with kisses, then she looked at you.
"Delicious as always," she said, and you didn't need to see her tongue to know that your load was probably already all in her stomach. "But there is still a hole to fill…"
You, still shaken by your recent orgasm and with your cock sensitive, looked at her and offered her your hands. She took them, and stood up with your help.
“And I will,” you stated. "But can we do it outside? We haven't even had a real shower."
She rolled her eyes.
"Yeah yeah, whatever. Come on, you go first."
She gave you a little push and you ended up under the shower. Luckily the water was warm, but that didn't stop you from almost accidentally swallowing some of it. You didn't say anything, you just lowered your head and let your hair get wet.
Haewon took the soap from behind you and rubbed it all over your body. She did an excellent job, but she refused to accept your help when she reached your most intimate parts, which made it somewhat intrusive. But at that point you didn't care about that. It's not like you haven't touched every part of each other's bodies before and like she doesn't have maternal instincts with you sometimes.
By being ready you returned the favor to her. A perfect excuse to feel her entire body slippery against your hands. Just like she was with you, you were just as intrusive. But of course she didn't care either, on the contrary the only thing you did was turn her even more, and she hurried you so that you could finally go outside.
Finally, when you were both showered, you turned off the faucet and you both went out to dry yourself with the same towel. Haewon finally took off the clips holding her short hair up and took your hand to lead you outside. Rory was still asleep on the couch, which of course made it impossible to use.
"Do you want to use the balcony?" Haewon asked, gesturing towards it.
"Huh? Are you sure?" You raised your eyebrows. "We still have the guest room."
"I don't feel like using a bed, to be honest. So yeah."
"Come on, then."
This time it was you who led the way, with Haewon holded to your hand. You walked to the left, towards the glass door that led to the balcony; it was covered by the blinds, so you first had to roll them up to slide the glass and get out.
The space was relatively small: a table and two black chairs located on the left side, a plant in the corner, and a small stool with an ashtray, a pack of blue Marlboros and a lighter on top, in the opposite corner.
However, the strong point of the balcony was not the space, it was how it was located: not a single building in front, several meters high, and with a beautiful view of the entire south of Seoul behind the Han River. The perfect place to sit and drink a beer, smoke a cigarette and relax after work.
Or in those cases, to fuck and give a show to the whole city. You had used it a few more times already, once with Chaeyoung and the rest with Jiheon, who always got very horny at the idea that someone could see her being fucked.
"Wah, I never get tired of this view," Haewon said, and she went to lean on the railing. The wind blew against her face, and it made her hair flutter.
"And I never get tired of this one," you responded from behind her, staring at her ass.
You pulled out one of the chairs and positioned it right in the middle of the balcony, facing forward. You sat on it.
Haewon looked over her shoulder at you and looked down at your flaccid cock. She smiled and bent her upper body down, her hands resting on the railing. That left her ass inches from your face.
"How about we bring it back to life?" she asked with a mischievous tone of voice, then she lowered her ass and sat right on top of your cock.
She rested her hands on your knees and started moving her ass back and forth, your cock being kneaded between her butt cheeks. That didn't take long to make you hard, and Haewon let a satisfied moan escape from her as she felt you firm against her skin.
Even though she already had the job done she didn't stop; she continued with even more energetic, passionate movements. You placed your hands on her waist, feeling her athletic abdomen from the front with your fingertips.
"A little dry, don't you think?" you asked, biting your lip as you grabbed her butt cheek.
Haewon looked at you over her shoulder.
"I have the solution for that," she replied. "But I don't think the wind is going to help."
Haewon then spit on her hand and wrapped it around your cock to rub it just a few times, enough to cover it with a layer of saliva that served as lubricant for the assjob she began to give you.
You let out a gasp, watching as your cock was the filling of a firm meat sandwich. You ran your hands up Haewon's back, then over her shoulders and down her sturdy arms. Then you reached around her body, grabbed both of her tits and kneaded them while she moved her ass in wide, slow circles.
She moaned and removed her hands from your knees, so that the full weight of her ass was crushing your cock against your abdomen. Then she leaned her body back, and she put her hand on the back of your neck to kiss you, continuing to rub your shaft between her buttocks.
"You don't want my thighs?" she murmured between kisses. "I wouldn't want you to cum like this; it would be a waste."
"I thought you wanted it inside your ass," you replied, and reached down with one hand just to reach her pussy and subtly touch her clit.
"I do want it," she raised her ass and reached for your cock again, but this time she spread her thighs a little to put it between them. "But since we don't have lubricant available, we will have to use our natural resources."
Well, that night your balls would end up like a pair of dry chestnuts. You wish you had prepared better, but Haewon was as unpredictable as a dice roll.
Now, you couldn't complain in the slightest. Receiving a thighjob from her was like going up to heaven, being touched by an angel, and coming back down to earth on a cloud. She squeezed her thighs on either side of your cock, but she didn't consider it enough, so she crossed one leg over the other.
"And so you expect me to last until I fuck your ass?" you gasped, and pursed your lips at the stupidly overwhelming pleasure of having that pair of strong thighs crushing your cock.
Haewon placed a couple of kisses on your jaw and caressed the back of your neck.
"I don't expect you to last," she replied, purposely tensing her thighs to further suffocate your cock. "I intend to use your cum as lubricant for my ass."
Before you could protest she leaned forward again and grabbed onto your thighs to move up and down, so slowly that it felt like your cock was going in and out of a rolling mill. That's when you noticed how really athletic that girl was, since she only had one foot on the floor while she worked her triceps to go up and down.
"Oh my god yes," you gasped, clinging to her waist. "Use me as a gym."
Haewon giggled and nudged your thigh.
"Maybe another day I'll use you for my squats," she said, and she started moving faster.
You let out a louder moan, closed your eyes and let your head fall back. There was no possible way not to feel removed from the physical plane when Haewon gave you a thighjob as tight and stifling as that. At that moment you could say with complete certainty that you'd rather fuck her thighs than her pussy, but Haewon was such a complete package that an opinion like that changed from one day to the next.
She stopped just for a second and spit on your cock. Saliva fell on your tip, hot and thick, and spread over the rest of your shaft as Haewon's thighs went up and down.
You opened your eyes and straightened your head. Her sexy back was your focus for a few long seconds, but then you looked down at her ass. You couldn't just sit still while that woman melted you, so you sucked on your ring and middle fingers and brought them to her butthole.
Haewon was startled, but then moaned when she felt your fingers rub at first and then penetrate a few inches into her tight butthole. When half of your fingers were inside her you simply left your wrist still, so that she could fuck her own ass at the same time that she stroked your cock with her thighs.
Soon your moans were joined by Haewon’s, who in a moment turned to look at you and asked you with a nod to take the rest of the length of your fingers inside her. So you did, raising your wrist so that your fingers were buried knuckle-deep inside her butthole.
Now Haewon, with a new motivation to up the gear, sacrificed some pressure around your cock just to gain speed. You hardly noticed any difference, since you were so close that just that slight friction on both sides was enough to take you down the hill.
Your fingers went comfortably in and out of Haewon's butthole, who in search of more pleasure moved as fast as her own arms would allow her. Unfortunately for her, the work her thighs were doing quickly paid off, and with a loud growl you exploded between them.
She realized that you were in the throes of an orgasm, but she didn't seem to care; she continued to move painfully fast as your fingers continued to act as her personal dildo.
"H-hey… stop!" you growled, and gave her a careless spank while you were still shooting cum streams onto the air.
Haewon screeched and finally stopped. She turned to look at you with her brow furrowed. She then looked down, realizing that her thighs and your cock were covered in cum.
"Oops," she said with a giggle.
"Oops my ass. Come here."
You took your fingers out from inside her butthole and with the same hand you pushed her forward. Haewon fell to her knees on the wooden floor, and automatically bent her back to make a perfect arch and rest her hands on it.
With her ass raised and presented to you, you stood up, pushed the chair behind you with your foot, and knelt behind her. Your cock was still hard and soaked in your own fluids; you took it with one hand, and as painful as it seemed at first, you buried it inside Haewon's butthole.
She moaned, but you let out a pained groan.
"I hope you're on my damn side when we play Monopoly," you said thinly, as your cock easily slid into her.
Just like Haewon wanted it, your cum served as a makeshift lubricant. It felt strange, but it fulfilled its function perfectly. With rather a minuscule effort your cock was completely inside.
"It's a game of chance, darling, I don't think I can do much about it," she replied, her head falling between her shoulders.
You placed a hand on her ass and gave her butt cheek a gentle squeeze. Then you started pumping your hips slowly. Your cock was still sensitive, so you felt more pain than pleasure at first.
"Give me squares, skip turns, I don't know."
She leaned on her forearms to turn her head and look at you, her mouth slightly open and her brow furrowed.
"And you don't want me to rob the bank too?" she raised an eyebrow.
You shrugged, and stopped moving.
"I mean, if you can."
"No, I can't! The girls would be upset!"
You rolled your eyes and shook your head.
"How boring."
Neither of you two opened your mouths again to do anything other than moan, since you had returned to what was really important.
The pain soon disappeared, but you still gave her slow pumps just to test how well you could move in and out of her. Haewon was already more than well trained for that practice, and especially for you, so it didn't take long for her ass to adapt to you.
Seconds later you started pumping faster and faster. Inevitably your hands went to her ass, which jiggled with each collision of your pelvis. Haewon stared ahead, between loud moans that went away with the wind as soon as they came out.
Inevitably your hands went to her ass, where you gripped each of her butt cheeks with your fingers. You wanted to destroy her, fuck her as hard as you did in her shower. But the fatigue in your body, accumulated after that long day, prevented you from being as intense as always.
Still, neither of you needed excessive aggressiveness to feel good while you were fucking. Haewon, despite being somewhat explosive at times, never demanded to be fucked hard and dirty all the time; it was enough for her that you used your cock well, and that was that.
Luckily that last thing was something you knew how to do very well, even when your hips and balls demanded a more than well-deserved rest.
Trying not to leave all the work to your hips, you planted your feet on the floor and rose above Haewon's ass. This way you used only your legs while moving up and down as fast as you could, which wasn't too much, but it was enough for her to cum after a minute.
"I'm not done with you yet, Haessal," you gasped, and rested a hand on one of her shoulders as she squealed in pleasure. "Come on, give me another one."
With your free hand you reached under her body to find her pussy. When you reached between her legs your fingers went straight to her clitoris, rubbing it in circles while you fucked her through her orgasm. Haewon responded with a squirm that made her press her cheek against the floor.
Haewon's face was ruby red, as it always was when she was subjected to high levels of pleasure. She was downright adorable, as her round face and cheeks made her look like a fresh tomato. But damn that arched back, that perfect ass up and being fucked, and those sensual moans were hot.
There came a point where your legs also began to weaken, and the sweat began to run down your temples. Sometimes you concentrated to not cum and last longer, but this time you concentrated to do exactly the opposite. Luckily it wasn't too difficult for you; it was enough for Haewon to cum once more for you to do it right after.
You both exploded between moans. You stopped rubbing her pussy and planted your knees on the floor again, as you shot a few spurts of cum into her tight ass. Haewon on the other hand grabbed her own head with both hands, pulling strands of her short hair as she let out whimpers.
You didn't cum as much as you did an hour ago, but enough so that at the moment you came out of her, a small waterfall of thick white liquid spilled out of her dilated butthole and fell to the dark wooden floor.
"Aight, enough for today," you said between labored breaths, and fell backwards on your ass.
"It's not like I'm in the mood for more, you fool," she replied softly, and straightened up to get on her knees. "You've squeezed me out for today."
You let out a laugh.
"I squeezed you out?" you asked in disbelief. "I feel like my dick is going to fall off."
"Oh come on, it was only four times," she supported herself with her hands and with an arduous effort managed to stand up.
“Five,” you corrected.
Haewon whipped around to look at you.
"So you did fuck Sullyoonie earlier, huh?"
You sighed and didn't say anything, you just shrugged since you didn't consider it respectful to admit those things openly.
She clapped her hands and pointed at you.
"I knew it!"
"Of course you knew," you nodded, also standing up as you looked at the mess you had left out there.
"Where it was?" she asked, and took a step forward. "A service room?"
"An empty conference room," you answered without looking at her, more worried about how you would clean everything than anything else. "Now shut up and stay still while I find something to clean up the mess."
You walked inside the house and ran past the front of the hallway to avoid Bae or Sully seeing you. You reached the kitchen and quickly grabbed the roll of towel, under the watchful eye of Rory, who was now sitting on a counter.
"I hope you haven't seen any of that abomination, darling."
After giving the kitten a kiss you returned to the balcony. Haewon looked towards the city, with her arms crossed and leaned on the railing. When she noticed your presence she turned around and leaned on her lower back.
"I see why Sully's cheeks were redder than normal," she said. "She's been kinky lately."
You remained silent and cut several pieces of towel to leave them on the cum stains in different parts of the balcony. Even the chair was stained in places. When they absorbed the liquid, you picked them all up one by one and rolled them into balls.
"You're not going to clean me up or what?"
"Nope, you'll do it yourself while I look for the spray mop."
You didn't let her protest, you simply stood up and left the roll of towel in her arms to go back inside the apartment.
When you went to pass in front of the hallway of the rooms your brain had gone on autopilot, so when the door to your room opened at the end of the corridor you didn't even have time to hide.
Bae, with a towel on her arm, in her panties and in a crop top shirt, immediately fixed her gaze on you. You stood paralyzed, also looking at her and her thin body full of hot curves. She scrutinized you, especially your lower part.
"Uh…" she looked at the floor, and then at the door to her left, which was the guest room.
The risk of her seeing you had completely slipped your mind. It was your house, and you were more than used to all the girls who went there seeing you naked. But Bae had never done it. It had to be, of course, in an uncomfortable situation.
"Nice body," you said, since it was the first thing that came to mind.
Bae looked at you again; she stayed quiet for a few seconds while she detailed you.
"You too."
You both nodded slowly, and then you looked towards the kitchen.
"Well… I'll get a mop," you pointed with your thumb.
"Yeah, sure," she nodded again, and opened the door to the guest room. "I… I'll go get dressed so we can play."
"Sure," you nodded again, and looked at the floor.
You both looked at each other for a few more seconds until each of you continued on your respective path. Then you found yourself with hot cheeks.
Bae was stupidly hot, with a body that looked like it was sculpted by hammer and chisel. But you were forced to get certain images of her out of your head so as not to get horny again.
Still embarrassed, you went to the laundry room and took out the spray mop to return to the balcony. Haewon had already cleaned herself, and she had gathered all the towel balls in a corner to throw them away later.
"I can't believe you let her see you," Haewon giggled as you moped the floor.
You shrugged as you mopped where the chair used to be. That particular floor was always a pain to clean, and this time was no exception.
"Bad timing I guess."
"Do you want me to go get the trash can?"
"No, we can throw the towel over the railing."
"I just don't want anyone to see me!"
You looked up at her and raised an eyebrow, as if wanting to say 'Really?'
"Ugh, right away."
Haewon left you alone for a moment, but returned seconds later with the trash can and an extra mop. Between the two of you, you continued cleaning the balcony and, after about 10 minutes, you left it sparkling as if nothing had happened.
By that point the night was already cold as hell, so you and Haewon went inside and closed the door to the balcony. You went to your room, where you found Sully sitting in the middle of the bed while she watched a video of her on her iPad. She had on her lavender pajama set, and was brushing her hair with Helios asleep next to her.
When she noticed that you came in naked, she looked up.
"Oh, are you done?" she asked, and looked back at her iPad.
"Thank god yes," you gave Haewon a look and turned around to enter through the door that was just at the entrance to the room, which led to the master wardrobe.
"Were you that hard on him?" you heard Sullyoon ask Haewon, while you looked for your clothes.
You pulled out your underwear, a black Celtics tracksuit and a white Puma sweater.
"I wouldn't say that," Haewon replied. "It's not like I forced him."
That wasn't entirely true. You frowned as you remembered how she had manipulated you with the charms you were always weak to. She had slowly dragged you into her web, and although you fell straight, it was all orchestrated by her and her desires.
When you got dressed, you went out and found Haewon already dressed too, in short pajama shorts and a simple t-shirt. She was sitting next to Sully as she caressed the back of the dozing Helios, who was between the two of them.
"Well? Shall we play or what?"
"Yeah!" the two said in unison.
That night's game was a real war.
Sully had been the least of your problems. If you and that girl acted as a team even without meaning to, when the situation called for it you were unstoppable. You bought properties from each other all the time and then exchanged them so you could build.
But Haewon had cared little about your request, and that whole game had been based on her and Bae trying to screw you over.
Bae didn't care about winning, she just wanted to be as annoying as possible to the three of you. On the other hand, Haewon was petty as well as visionary. She made you sweat towards the end of the game, but the winner ended up being Sullyoon, for the simple fact of having invested in all the orange properties at the beginning of the game.
After playing the Monopoly game, the four of you went to the balcony wrapped up warmly and spent the time just eating snacks and chatting. It was around two in the morning when you went back inside to sleep. Haewon and Sully slept with you, while Bae slept in the guest room.
You were usually never the first to wake up; someone was always ahead of you. But for some time now you had gotten into the habit of getting up no later than 9 in the morning. It had happened for several reasons: one of them was to feel like you were making better use of the day, another was to fix your sleeping schedule in general, but the most important thing was to be able to give food to the cats when it was time.
That day you had woken up at 8:30 in the morning. Sully was on your left, and on hers was Haewon, on the side of the bed closest to the window. Both still fast asleep.
Careful not to disturb Sully, you slid out of the blanket and stood up with the phone in your hand; you left it on the floating shelf in front of the bed, which spanned the entire wall to the corner. Then you went to the bathroom, washed your face and teeth, and after taking your phone back, you left the room.
As soon as you crossed the hallway, Helios got off the couch and greeted you with a meow as he approached. Rory came out from behind the kitchen island and jumped onto it to sit, staring at you in complete silence.
"Good morning, my loves," you greeted in a tiny voice, as Helios rubbed his head against your calf. You bent down to pet his back, and he meowed again. "Yeah yeah, I'm coming."
You quickly walked to open all the blinds, so that the apartment was filled with beautiful natural light. Then you went to the kitchen, Helios following close behind. Rory got off the island and stood next to you as you picked up each of their plates from the floor. You put them on a counter and went to the corner of the kitchen, where the huge bag of cat kibble was with a scoop inside. You served a considerable amount on each plate, and amidst desperate meows you put the plates in their places for them to eat.
Their water bowl was still half full, so you didn't consider it necessary to pour more. Instead, after grinding the beans, you set about making your everyday cup of espresso. While it was being done, you went straight to get a box of cereal and a carton of milk for breakfast.
By the time the espresso was ready you had already poured yourself the cereal, so you took the cup with the coffee, put two teaspoons of sugar in it and took it along with the bowl of cereal to the dining table.
Not even five minutes passed when you heard a door open, and then another, probably the bathroom in the hallway. It couldn't be Haewon or Sully; they always used the bedroom bathroom. That only left one option.
After a while you heard the door open again, and seconds later Bae came out of the hallway.
Thank goodness you had already finished a good part of the cereal, because it would have spilled out of your mouth when you saw Bae, again in panties and a crop top shirt. Just like she was in your awkward encounter last night.
"Good morning!" she said, as she raised her arms to stretch them, an action with which she revealed more inches of her perfect, slim torso. You could almost see what was under that shirt, but she lowered her arms immediately.
"Good… morning," you replied, and took a sip of your espresso while between small glances you admired her long legs and her small waist.
"Wah, I really slept deliciously."
She sat next to you, in the chair facing the end of the table, legs crossed in the most attractive way she could choose.
"Yeah, that room is pretty comfortable," you nodded, and took another spoonful of cereal, one of the last. "What are you doing awake this early?"
"Well…" she rested her elbows on the table and her chin on her hand. "It just happened, why?"
"You never get up early."
"But this time it happened, what's wrong?"
"Nothing," you shrugged. "It's just weird. Are you up to something or what?"
Bae was silent for a few seconds while her gaze wandered around the table, in the end she pursed her lips and shrugged.
"In short, you're up to something," you confirmed, and grabbed the cup and the empty bowl to stand up. You went to the dishwasher. "Do you want me to make you something for breakfast? There's cereal, eggs, bread…"
There was no response from her while you were washing the dishes, but you did hear the chair move back. By the time you looked over your shoulder, Bae had already hugged you from behind and pressed herself against you.
You wrinkled your brow, and looked into her eyes with your hands still full of soap.
"May I know what you are doing?"
Bae squeezed you into her arms, and pressed one of her knees to your side. She rested her chin on your shoulder and leaned closer to your ear.
"Oppa…" she lowered her voice, almost to a whisper. "Do you think I have a nice body?"
That's where the shots were going, then. You should have guessed. But in the mornings you were not at your full brain capacity.
"What's that question about?" you looked away, as you now washed the bowl and spoon.
"You seemed delighted about it last night."
She planted a hand on your abdomen, caressing it gently up and down.
"I don't know what you're talking about, honestly."
You left the sponge in it’s place and removed the soap from the dishes with plenty of water.
"No? You were almost drooling…" she whispered. "You fucked me like four times with your eyes."
You couldn't help but let out a sly smile as you set the clean dishes aside. Then you left your hands rested on the edge of the dishwasher.
"I wasn't the only one, as I remember."
"Because you're hot, oppa," she replied with a giggle, and then lowered her hand to rest on your bulge. "And your cock looked… delicious."
Bae began to knead your cock gently, slow and deep movements. You held your breath for a moment, and resisted the urge to turn around and put your hands on her. You wanted to see how far she would go.
"If you wanted to taste it you just had to say so last night," you said, and looked down. Your cock was already getting hard thanks to her hand.
Bae laughed.
"And share you with those two?" Of course not," she said. "If I'm going to taste you for the first time, I have to do it alone."
Bae stopped moving her hand to put it between your sweatpants and boxers. She found yourself with your already hard cock, which she wrapped with her hand and then lowered it to your balls as well.
"Fuck, I don't think all that will fit inside me…" she murmured against your neck, where she placed soft, wet kisses. "My pussy is too tight."
"Oh my god…" you gasped, and let your head fall to the side to give Bae free rein on that side of your neck.
She didn't mince words and pulled down your bottoms to free your cock immediately. Then she stroked it slowly, while she used her other hand to rub your abdomen under your sweater.
Unable to resist anymore you slowly turned around and came face to face with her. You stared into each other's eyes, Bae still with her hand stroking your cock. Then you put your arm around her slender body, pressed her against you, and kissed her.
The way that girl kissed immediately reminded you of Sumin: just as insecure at first, but with a gradual increase in hunger as the seconds passed that led to her attacking your mouth with her tongue, which by the way you could notice that moved in a prodigious way.
The kiss lasted for a few long seconds in which she continued to move her hand up and down your cock, slowly until your precum began to leak between her fingers. You, for your part, had your hand clinging to the side of her torso, which you then moved to caress her back and lowered it again to grab her ass.
That made Bae let out a small moan against your lips and pull away from them. She then looked into your eyes once more, and with her gaze still on them, she fell to her knees with your cock right between her eyebrows.
"I've done this like only once in my life," she said, as she wrapped her fingers around your base. "So don't scold me."
"I'm not going to scold you, Jinsol," you replied. "You know how to use that tongue very well. Just use it and it will be fine."
Bae nodded slowly and stared at the piece of meat in front of her eyes. She looked at it for a few brief moments, as if wanting to decide where to start. She finally decided to comply with your statements, and she planted her tongue on the underside of your cock to lick it up. You gasped and rested your hands on the edge of the dishwasher behind you, while Bae swirled her tongue in slow circles around your tip.
“Fuck, like that…” you pursed your lips. "But- oh fuck…"
Before you could finish your sentence, Bae beat you to it, and fulfilled exactly the suggestion you were about to make: she took you inside her mouth. It was just the tip, but she sucked it gently while she gave it quick licks.
After a few seconds she worked up the courage to take a few more inches and begin pumping her head in calm iterations. She looked into your eyes frequently, making sure you were enjoying every little wiggle of her tongue. Which you certainly did, since such control was incredible.
Once Bae was sure she was doing a good job she relaxed and let herself go. Decision more than beneficial for you, since now she was taking her mouth further and further away, and to your genuine surprise, almost to her throat.
"What the fuck," you moaned, and your forehead wrinkled in pleasure. "How…?"
You didn't even bother trying to find an explanation. Some people were simply born with talent. Apparently Bae knew how to do that just because, and without any effort.
She gave you a few long, slow pumps and pulled you out of her mouth with a slurp at your tip.
"You like it like that?" she asked, moving her hand on your saliva-soaked cock. "I can go faster if you want."
“Oh god no,” you shook your head. "That's perfect," you nodded for her to continue.
Bae then took you into her mouth again and this time she prolonged her gentle, deep blowjob for an incredible two minutes in which you were constantly with your toes curled and your mouth gaping. You would have loved to cum inside her mouth, but you had other priorities right now.
"Alright, get up," you ordered between gasps.
She obeyed you immediately, and as soon as she stood in front of you, you wrapped your arms around her small waist and kissed her again. This time you took complete control, invading her mouth with your tongue while your hands roamed every corner of her tight body. You focused your attention on her lower back and her waist, places you constantly clung to because of how stupidly good they felt under your fingers.
Bae brought her hand back to your cock to try to rub it again, but you stopped her and grabbed both of her arms so she wrapped them around your neck. Then you had free rein to take your hand between her legs and rub her pussy over her bluish panties, which you noticed were wet already.
She moaned against your lips and gripped her fingers in your hair, as she rubbed her thigh against your balls. You then put your hand inside her panties to reach her pussy, which was extremely soft to the touch, and rubbed her clitoris in slow circles.
You separated from her lips and focused now on her long neck, whose pretty skin you filled with wet kisses. Bae let out an adorable, soft moan close to your ear, as you ran your fingers up and down between her folds, which were starting to get soaked.
“Oppa, fuck me already…” she moaned into your ear. "Please."
The only reason you decided not to continue teasing her was because you were almost as in need of it as she was. And how not to be, with that tight and soft body in your arms.
You took a few steps forward with her until you had her lean against the island counter, then you grabbed her waist with your hands and made her sit in the exact same place where last night you had eaten Haewon.
Not willing to waste time you brought your hands to the hem of Bae's panties and quickly slid them off her pretty pale legs. She then spread them wide open, revealing her pretty glistening pussy to you as she stared into your eyes.
You positioned yourself between her legs, and took your cock in your hand to rub the tip of it between her folds. You made a gesture to get inside, but she put a hand on your abdomen.
"Can I do it myself?" she asked, and she bit her lip pointing at your cock.
"Go on then," you nodded.
Bae leaned back, rested her left elbow on the marble surface and took your cock in her hand, rubbing it between her own folds and then bringing it to her entrance, where you gently pushed to insert your tip.
You both let out a small moan, as your cock slowly but surely made its way between her folds. And damn, she wasn't lying when she said she was too tight. For a moment you thought you were going to get stuck halfway, but with a little patience and saliva—literally—you were able to bury every inch of your cock inside that stifling space.
"It looks like every inch did fit inside you…" you smiled, and put your hands behind her knees as you gave her a moment to get used to your thickness.
"It seems so, yeah," she responded between agitated gasps. "But I feel like you're going to tear my cervix, oh my god."
You chuckled, and gripped your fingers on her thighs.
"You'll get used to it."
With that said you began to move back and forth, as slowly as you could at first while giving the tight walls of Bae's pussy time to stretch around your throbbing cock. It was a long and tortuous few seconds, but in the end the pumps became smooth and easy, enough for you to be able to move freely.
Bae couldn't afford to be loud, and she knew it. That's why her moans were so discreet. But her face, painted with a subtle blush, and her sensual expressions said it all. She laid her back flat on the counter, and covered her mouth so she could let out a few louder squeals she had pent up.
You released one of her thighs and left the palm of your hand on her lower abdomen, where you could feel the tip of your cock slightly bulge her skin with each pump, which became faster and stronger with each second.
From her lower abdomen you moved your hand up, to reach under her small cropped shirt and grab one of her tits; they were tiny, but you felt a pair of small, soft, adorable nipples that you pinched with your fingers.
Bae's thigh tensed and trembled under your left hand fingers. She now had both hands covering her face, her back arched and her toes curled so tightly they were red. And then, after a minute of her pussy being rapidly fucked, she exploded with a louder whimper that she was unable to stifle.
The feeling of having her pussy that tight around your cock reminded you of Haewon's thighjobs. It was suffocating, like it was going to squeeze your cock and crush it like a rubber toy. Even you let out a moan as you carefully fucked her.
Bae removed her hands from her face and brought them behind to grip the edge of the counter. Her face was even redder than before, her bottom lip bitten and her eyes squeezed shut. Her spasms made her back twist, and caused tremors in her thighs.
When her orgasm had passed you pulled out from inside her pussy and laid your cock flat against her abdomen. She leaned on her elbows and looked at you between labored breaths.
"Wanna ride me, cutie?" you asked, and caressed her toned abdomen up and down.
She quickly nodded.
"I'd love to, oppa."
"Then come here."
You took a step back and helped her off the counter. Afterwards, you took her hand and guided her to the other side of the room, towards the couch that, thank God, was completely free to use.
The couch had a square area on its left end that looked more like a small bed. You knelt on top of it and crawled until you turned around and placed your back between the cushions, with your legs extended forward. Bae also climbed onto the couch and straddled you, thighs pressed tightly on either side of your hips.
"Can I take that shirt off?" you asked. "It's been bothering me all damn morning."
Bae pressed her pussy against the back of your cock and very subtly ground her hips. She then nodded and lifted her arms, so that you could immediately remove her shirt and leave her completely naked on top of you.
"And me? Can I take that dumb sweater off or what?" she asked, and gave it a couple of tugs.
"It's one of my favorites, have some respect," you replied, and then raised your arms too.
She immediately took your sweater off and tossed it next to her shirt. Her hands planted themselves on your chest, which she slowly rubbed before diving back into your neck with kisses and bites.
Now that you two were completely naked, the rubbing between your bodies and the touching became a sensation as magnificent as fucking. You wrapped both arms around her slim waist and pressed her body against yours, your fingers gripping her flesh firmly. Meanwhile one of Bae's hands slid between your bodies until she reached your cock, which she stroked at the same time she rubbed it with her pussy.
She kept kissing your neck, and she soon focused on your collarbone. She then raised her hips, and straightened your cock to completely impale herself on it again. You let out a moan, but Bae just bit her lip, made you look at her and then kissed you before moving her hips up and down.
Your hands immediately went to her waist and a few seconds later they went down to her ass; Bae's went to your neck, before completely surrounding it with her arms and deepening the kiss. You were the only one moaning against the other's lips, which immediately made you realize that her goal was for you to enjoy it more than her.
She hugged your head and started moving her hips faster, with a skill and smoothness that left you surprised. That girl knew what she was doing, taking your cock all the way in and out of her, with movements that could have easily caused you to unintentionally pull out of her. But hell no, the control she had over her lower body was impressive.
You soon found yourself stunned. The girl you least expected turned out to be the one who rode cock the best of absolutely everyone. That, combined with her tight, toned, curvy body, her tight pussy, her cute round ass, and the sexy changes in her countenance made her a complete menace of a woman.
You couldn't help but moan again and again against her lips, until she had no choice but to break away from the kiss, just to stare at you while you melted with pleasure.
"Do you like the way I ride you, oppa?" she asked, with a cute and innocent tone.
You squeezed both of her buttocks hard and couldn't help but give one of them a little spank out of pure instinct. Then you sank slightly into her couch so that your face was level with her small tits.
"I fucking love it, fuck," you moaned, and put your hands on her back so she could bring her tits closer to your mouth. You took a nipple inside and sucked and licked it.
"Oh yeah?" She let a small moan escape her as you ate her small but delicious tits. "How much?"
"No one has ever ridden me as good as you right now," you gasped, and closed your eyes before letting your head fall back, your mouth half open in an O and your brow furrowed.
“Then fill my tight pussy oppa…” she rubbed your hair, and as if it were possible, she moved her hips even faster and harder. "But hurry up… who knows when those two will wake up."
You didn't even need her to rush you. You were already dangerously close to cumming from the moment she started moving her hips. It took less than a minute for you to put your arms around her waist again in a hug, and then explode inside that dangerous prison called pussy that she had.
Rarely did someone make you moan as uncontrollably as Bae did in that moment. She even had to cover your mouth as she moved her hips slower and felt you shoot your entire immense thick load inside her.
"Oh my god," she gasped. "You came a lot, oppa. And it feels so warm and nice…"
She removed her hand from your mouth and kissed you again. Meanwhile, you again held on to her ass as she slowed down to a complete stop. You two were tasting each other's mouths for a few long seconds, until she raised her hips to take out your cock. The only thing you could feel was the abundant amount of cum falling into your abdomen.
"Do you want a clean?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.
"Fuck, do whatever you want," you sighed, eyes still closed.
Bae got off you and knelt next to you with her ass raised. She brought her face close to your abdomen and didn't hesitate for a second to lick the pool of white liquid from end to end. You opened your eyes and watched in silence as she collected every drop of it with her tongue and swallowed it.
"Since when…?" you wrinkled your forehead. "God, nevermind."
When she finished cleaning your abdomen she then took your cock and repeated the same process, until it was clean and shiny. She then sat back on her heels and looked at you with heavy breathing.
"Can you make me some fried eggs and sausages?" she asked, and tilted her head.
You couldn't help but burst out laughing. That girl was quite a specimen.
"Aha, but get dressed and go get the girls up. I have to get you back a little before 2 because I have to turn on stream early."
"And why don't you do it at night like always?"
"Because I'll meet you at Korea University. Come on, hurry up."
Bae nodded and stood up. You both dressed quickly, and you started making breakfast for all of them while Bae went to wake them up. You ended up taking them at 1 in the afternoon. By the time you got back home, you did your respective 4-5 hour stream and got ready to go to the campus where the girls would be performing that day—which was admittedly quite far from your house.
But you wanted to see your favorite femboy. And on top of that, you could see those tripleS girls up close. Three birds with one stone.
This is a fictional story written for entertainment purposes only. It does not represent real events, or advice.
18+ MDNI
Jacob stepped into the hotel suite, the door clicking shut behind him with a soft thud. The room was bathed in the warm glow of dimmed lights, casting long shadows that danced on the walls. Yuna was already there, her petite frame silhouetted against the large window that offered a breathtaking view of Seoul's skyline. She turned to face him, her big eyes sparkling with anticipation, a sly smile playing on her lips.
"Took you long enough," Yuna teased, her voice a sultry purr. She was dressed in a simple white tank top and matching panties, her small, perky breasts straining against the thin fabric. Jacob's cock twitched in his pants at the sight of her, already hardening with need.
"Had to make sure the coast was clear," Jacob replied, his deep voice rough with desire. He closed the distance between them, his large hands reaching out to grasp her tiny waist. Yuna gasped as he pulled her flush against him, her small body dwarfed by his muscular frame. She looked up at him, her eyes wide with excitement and lust.
"You're so big," she whispered, her hands trailing down his chest to rest on his belt. "I love how you tower over me, Jacob. It makes me feel so... small."
Jacob growled, his hands sliding down to cup her ass, squeezing the soft flesh. "You are small, Yuna. Small and perfect." He leaned down, capturing her lips in a hungry kiss. She melted against him, her body molding to his as their tongues danced together.
Yuna's hands worked quickly, unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants. His thick, veiny cock sprang free, bobbing heavily between them. She gasped, her small hand wrapping around the base, her fingers not quite touching. "God, Jacob, you're so fucking big," she breathed, her eyes wide with awe and desire.
Jacob chuckled, his hands sliding up her body to cup her small breasts. "And you're so fucking tiny, Yuna. I love how small you are. It makes me want to fill you up, stretch you out."
Yuna moaned, her hips bucking against him. "Yes, Jacob. Please. I need you inside me."
Jacob didn't make her wait. He spun her around, pressing her against the wall. She gasped as he hiked up her tank top, exposing her small, perky tits. He leaned down, capturing one nipple in his mouth, sucking and nibbling on the sensitive flesh. Yuna cried out, her hips grinding against him, her pussy wet and ready.
Jacob's hands slid down her body, hooking his fingers into the waistband of her panties. He pulled them down, exposing her bare ass. He growled, his hands squeezing the soft flesh before sliding down to her pussy. She was soaking wet, her juices coating his fingers as he teased her entrance.
"Fuck, Yuna, you're so wet," Jacob growled, his fingers sliding in and out of her tight pussy. "You're so fucking ready for me."
Yuna moaned, her hips bucking against his hand. "Yes, Jacob. Please. I need you inside me. I need you to fill me up."
Jacob didn't make her wait any longer. He positioned the head of his cock at her entrance, teasing her with slow, shallow thrusts. Yuna whimpered, her hips bucking against him, trying to impale herself on his thick cock. Jacob chuckled, his hands gripping her hips tightly.
"Patience, Yuna," he growled, his voice rough with desire. "I'm going to fuck you so good. I'm going to fill you up, stretch you out. I'm going to make you scream my name."
And he did. With one swift thrust, he buried himself balls deep inside her. Yuna screamed, her pussy clenching around his cock as she adjusted to his size. Jacob groaned, his hips grinding against her ass as he gave her a moment to adjust.
"Fuck, Yuna, you feel so good," he growled, his hips beginning to move. He pulled out slowly, then slammed back into her, his balls slapping against her ass. Yuna cried out, her pussy clenching around him as he set a punishing pace.
Jacob's hands roamed her body, squeezing her small tits, pinching her nipples, sliding down to her clit. He rubbed the sensitive nub in time with his thrusts, driving her wild with pleasure. Yuna's moans filled the room, her hips bucking against him as she chased her orgasm.
"Fuck, Jacob, I'm close," she panted, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. "I'm so close."
Jacob growled, his hips slamming against her ass as he fucked her harder, faster. "Come for me, Yuna," he commanded, his fingers rubbing her clit in tight, quick circles. "Come all over my cock."
Yuna screamed, her pussy clenching around him as she came, her juices gushing out, coating his cock and balls. Jacob groaned, his hips slamming against her as he chased his own release. With a final, deep thrust, he buried himself inside her, his cock pulsing as he came, filling her up with his hot, sticky cum.
They stayed like that for a moment, their bodies pressed together, their breaths coming in short, sharp gasps. Jacob leaned down, capturing Yuna's lips in a soft, gentle kiss. She melted against him, her body limp and sated.
"Fuck, Yuna, that was amazing," Jacob panted, his hips still grinding against her ass, milking the last drops of pleasure from their orgasm.
Yuna giggled, her hips bucking against him. "It was, wasn't it? But we're not done yet, Jacob. I need you again. I need you to fuck me in the shower. I need you to breed me, fill me up with your cum." Jacob growled, his cock hardening inside her....
The GPS had led you through winding, tree-lined roads for the last twenty minutes, each turn taking you deeper into a neighborhood that didn't feel like Seoul anymore. The mansions here didn't even try to blend in, they announced themselves with wrought-iron gates and stone walls, with security cameras that tracked your car's movement like predator eyes.
Your hands were slick against the steering wheel.
Senior Park had called this morning, his voice crackling through the phone with that particular brand of amusement he reserved for special assignments. "New client. Young. Recently married." A pause. "You've seen her face before."
You'd seen her face everywhere. Billboard in Gangnam. Subway advertisement for soju. The thumbnail of every third video on your YouTube feed. Karina. Yu Ji-min. The face of AESPA, the woman whose wedding had crashed three different entertainment news sites, whose husband, some shipping magnate's son had apparently decided that a wife was something you acquired, not something you maintained.
"That's the job," Senior Park had said. "She called us. Not the other way around. Remember that."
And now here you were, sitting in your Hyundai at the security gate of a house that looked more like a modern art museum, trying to remember how to breathe normally.
The gate buzzed before you could press the intercom.
A woman's voice, softer than you'd expected. "Come in. The front door is around the fountain."
The gate swung open.
The walk from your car to the front door took exactly forty-three steps. You counted them. Anything to keep your mind from spinning out. The fountain in the driveway was one of those minimalist things, a black stone slab with water sheeting down the sides. Classy. Expensive. The kind of thing you could stare at and feel nothing about.
Your professional training ran through your head like a checklist Senior Park had drilled into you months ago. Posture. Eye contact. Don't stare. Let her set the pace. The first meeting is always about making them comfortable enough to admit what they want.
But none of the training had mentioned what to do when Karina opened the door.
She wasn't wearing makeup. That was the first thing you noticed, not what you'd expected. Every image you'd ever seen of her was polished to a high gloss, stage-ready, camera-ready. The woman standing in the doorway had her dark hair pulled back in a loose ponytail, a few strands escaping at the temples. She wore an oversized gray sweater that hung off one shoulder, black leggings, bare feet on the marble floor.
And her face. Jesus Christ, her face.
The bone structure that launched a thousand fan edits. Lips that were slightly chapped, slightly parted. Eyes that held yours with something between curiosity and exhaustion.
"Come in," she said, stepping aside. "Take off your shoes."
You did. Brain on autopilot. The foyer was all white marble and indirect lighting, a staircase curving up into shadow. The house smelled like fresh laundry and something floral… lilies, maybe. A bouquet sat on a console table near the door, still wrapped in cellophane, the card unopened.
"I'm…" you started. "I know who you are." She was already walking toward what looked like a living room. "The agency sent me your file. Do you want something to drink?"
The living room was vast and somehow still felt empty. A sectional sofa big enough for twelve people. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking a garden you couldn't see in the dark. No photographs on the walls. No magazines on the coffee table. It looked like a showroom, like no one actually lived here. "Water would be great," you managed.
Karina gestured toward the sofa. "Sit." She disappeared through an archway. You heard water running, the clink of glass. Your heart was doing something ridiculous in your chest—not racing exactly, more like it was trying to relocate to your throat.
The file Senior Park had given you was thin. Married eight months. Husband's name was Lee Joon-ho, heir to Lee Shipping & Logistics. According to the tabloids, he'd been spotted at clubs in Gangnam with actresses whose names you didn't recognize, while Karina attended industry events alone. The word "lonely" appeared in a lot of the articles, usually paired with photos of her looking wistful at award shows. "Here."
She was back, holding two glasses. One water, one something amber. Whiskey, maybe. Your eyes tracked the movement of her bare arm as she set the water down on the coffee table between you. "You're nervous," she said, settling onto the opposite end of the sectional. Not a question.
"A little."
"Why?"
Because you're Karina. Because every man in this country has fantasized about you. Because I'm sitting in your mansion and you're wearing that sweater and I don't know what I'm supposed to do with my hands. "New clients are always nerve-wracking," you said instead. "For both of us."
Something flickered in her expression. Amusement, maybe. Or skepticism. She took a sip of her drink—whiskey, definitely—and let her head rest against the back of the sofa. The movement exposed the long line of her throat, the delicate architecture of her collarbones where the sweater had slipped. "How long have you been doing this?"
"A year."
"And before that?" You hesitated. The training said honesty was valuable, but only in measured doses. "I was a personal trainer. Senior Park recruited me. Said I had the right… temperament."
"Temperament." She said the word like she was tasting it. "Is that what they call it?" The silence stretched. Outside, wind rattled something against the glass—a branch, probably. The house was so quiet you could hear the refrigerator humming from two rooms away.
"Why did you call the agency?" you asked. Karina's gaze slid toward you. "Aren't you supposed to know the answer to that?"
"I'd rather hear it from you." Another sip of whiskey. Her throat moved as she swallowed. "The agency brief didn't tell you?"
"It said you were recently married. It said your husband travels frequently for work."
"Travels." A short laugh, not especially warm. "Is that what they're calling it now?"
You didn't answer. Sometimes silence was the best tool you had. Karina set her glass down on the coffee table with a little more force than necessary. The sound echoed in the cavernous room. "He doesn't travel. He's in Seoul. He just doesn't come home." She was looking at the windows now, at her own reflection in the dark glass. "Three months. I've seen him three times in three months, and each time it was for less than an hour. Photo opportunities, mostly. His PR team coordinates them."
"That sounds lonely." Her jaw tightened. "Don't."
"Don't what?" "Don't do the sympathetic thing. I'm not paying for sympathy."
You shifted on the sofa, turning to face her more directly. "What are you paying for?"
The question landed differently than you'd intended. Karina's eyes snapped to yours, and for a moment the mask slipped—the idol mask, the one she wore in every interview and variety show appearance. Underneath it was something rawer. Something hungry and furious and so tired of pretending. "I want to feel something," she said. "Something that isn't…" She gestured vaguely at the house around her. "This."
"This?"
"Empty." The word came out smaller than the others. She picked up her whiskey again, took a longer drink. "Everything in my life is scheduled and managed and presented to the public in exactly the right light. My marriage. My career. My face." Another drink. "I wake up in this house and I feel like I'm already a ghost. Like I'm haunting my own life." You watched her fingers tighten around the glass. The knuckles went pale.
"So when you ask what I'm paying for," she continued, "I'm paying for something real. Something that isn't polite. Something that doesn't treat me like I'm made of glass." The air in the room had changed. Thicker, somehow. Charged with something you couldn't name.
"Have you done this before?" you asked. "With anyone from the agency?"
"No."
"And you understand how this works? The boundaries, the rules—"
"I understand." She cut you off with a look that was almost defiant. "I read everything. I know about the safeword protocols. I know I can stop anything at any time. I know this isn't…" She paused, searching for the word. "Conventional."
"It's not," you agreed. "Which is why I need to ask you something, and I need you to be honest with me."
Karina raised an eyebrow, and for a second you caught a glimpse of the stage persona, the one who commanded thousands with a single glance. "Ask."
"Are you sure you want this?" The question hung between you. Outside, the wind picked up again, and somewhere in the house a door creaked—settling, probably, or the air pressure shifting. Karina didn't look away from your face.
"Do you want me to prove it?" she asked.
"I want you to tell me." She was quiet for a long moment. Then she set her glass down again, stood up from the sofa, and walked toward you. Her bare feet made almost no sound on the marble floor. The sweater slipped further off her shoulder as she moved, revealing the strap of something black and lacy underneath. When she stopped, she was standing directly in front of you, close enough that you could smell her perfume—something light, citrus and white flowers—and underneath it, the clean scent of her skin. "I've been thinking about this for three weeks," she said. "Ever since I found the agency's number in a forum I wasn't supposed to be reading. Ever since I realized that the only person who's touched me in eight months is my makeup artist." Her voice was steady, but there was a tremor underneath it. "So yes. I'm sure. I want this."
She held out her hand. "I want you to make me feel something. I don't care if it hurts. I don't care if it's ugly. I want to stop being Karina for a few hours and just be… a body. A woman. Whatever is left of me when all of this"—she waved at the house, at the empty walls, at the unopened flowers—"isn't here anymore." Your pulse was a drumbeat in your ears. Her hand was still extended, palm up, waiting.
"Tell me your safeword," you said.
"Red."
"And if you can't speak?"
"Three taps. Anywhere you can feel them." You'd said the same words to half a dozen clients before her, but something about the way Karina recited them back—steady, rehearsed, like she'd practiced them in front of a mirror—made your chest tighten.
"Okay," you said. And you took her hand. Her skin was warm. Soft, the way you'd imagined, but there was strength in her grip too—the hand of someone who'd spent years in dance studios, who'd trained her body to do exactly what she wanted it to. She didn't flinch when you stood up, which brought you close enough that you could see the individual lashes framing her eyes, the tiny mole near her left eyebrow, the way her lips had parted slightly.
"Before we do anything," you said, "I need you to understand something."
"What?"
"This isn't about your husband. This isn't about revenge or filling a void or proving something to yourself." You kept your voice low, even. "This is about what you want. Right now. In this room. Nothing else exists." Karina's eyes searched your face. Whatever she was looking for, she must have found it, because something in her expression shifted—a loosening, a letting-go.
"Nothing else exists," she repeated.
"Good girl." The words slipped out before you could stop them, but the effect was immediate. Karina's breath caught. Her pupils dilated, just slightly. The hand in yours tightened its grip.
"That's what you want?" you asked. "To be good?"
"I want…" She swallowed. "I want to stop thinking. I want someone else to be in charge. Just for a while." You lifted your free hand and brushed a strand of hair away from her face. The movement was gentle, almost reverent, and it made no sense with the things you were about to do—but that was the point, wasn't it? The contrast. The collision of tender and brutal that would short-circuit her brain and give her exactly what she was asking for.
"Your bedroom," you said. "Take me there."
She led you up the curved staircase, her hand still in yours. The upstairs hallway was lined with doors, all of them closed except one at the far end. Soft light spilled out of it, and as you got closer you could see the corner of a bed—a huge bed, king-sized at least, with white sheets and too many pillows. The master bedroom. Karina's bedroom.
The room that her husband had probably not set foot in for months. She paused at the threshold, and for a moment you thought she might hesitate. Might change her mind. Might realize what she was about to do and decide it was too much, too fast, too far outside the carefully constructed image of Yu Ji-min, beloved idol, perfect wife.
Instead, she turned to face you. "What do you want me to do first?" The question was genuine. Not a test. She was waiting for you to take the reins, willing to hand over control before you'd even started.
"First," you said, stepping into the bedroom and pulling her gently after you, "I want you to take off that sweater." Karina's hands moved to the hem of the gray wool. The fabric lifted, revealing the black lace you'd glimpsed earlier—a bralette, delicate and expensive-looking, the kind of thing you wore when you wanted to feel beautiful even if no one else would see it. The sweater came over her head and dropped to the floor.
Her skin was luminous in the low light. Pale and smooth, with the kind of muscle definition that came from years of dancing—toned arms, a flat stomach that tensed as she breathed, the curve of her ribs just visible beneath the skin. "Now the leggings." She hooked her thumbs into the waistband and pushed them down, bending at the waist. The movement was efficient, not seductive, but it didn't matter—the sight of her body unfolding as she straightened up, the black lace of her underwear matching the bralette, the long lines of her legs.
You circled her slowly. She stood very still, the way she'd probably been trained to stand for fittings and stage checks, but there was a tremor in her thighs that she couldn't quite control. Anticipation. Maybe fear. Probably both. "Lie down on the bed," you said. "On your back."
Karina did as she was told. The mattress barely dipped under her weight—memory foam, probably, the kind that cost more than your monthly rent. She arranged herself in the center of the white expanse, arms at her sides, looking up at the ceiling. "Close your eyes." Her lashes swept down against her cheeks. The room was silent except for her breathing, which had gone shallow and quick. You stood at the foot of the bed and watched her. The rise and fall of her chest. The way her fingers curled against the sheets. The faint flush spreading from her neck to her collarbones.
"How do you feel?" you asked. "Exposed."
"Good." You moved to the side of the bed and sat down on the edge, close enough that your hip nearly touched hers. Karina's breathing hitched at the proximity.
"Do you know what I'm going to do to you?"
A pause. "No." "I'm going to use you." The words came out rougher than you'd intended. "I'm going to take everything you're willing to give me, and I'm going to make you feel every second of it. Your body belongs to me tonight. Do you understand?"
Her voice was barely a whisper. "Yes."
"And you want that?"
"God, yes."
"Look at me." Her eyes opened. They were glassy already, the pupils blown wide. The composed idol from five minutes ago was already starting to dissolve, replaced by something more vulnerable and infinitely more real. "Your husband," you said. "Does he ever look at you like this?"
Karina flinched—a tiny movement, but you caught it. "No."
"Does he touch you?"
"No."
"Does he make you feel anything at all?" A tear slipped from the corner of her eye, tracking down her temple and into her hair. "No." You leaned closer. "Then forget him. Forget all of it. Right now, there's only me and you and what your body can take. Nothing else. No Karina. No Yu Ji-min. Just a woman who needs to be fucked like she matters."
The tears were coming faster now, but she wasn't sobbing—just leaking, silently, the release of pressure that had been building for months.
"Please," she said. "Please."
"Please what?"
"Make me forget." You stood up and began unbuttoning your shirt. Karina watched you through blurred vision, her chest rising and falling with breaths she couldn't seem to control. The black lace of her bralette had shifted, revealing the upper curve of her breasts, the skin there flushed and warm.
"Last chance to change your mind," you said, pulling your shirt off and letting it fall. Her eyes traveled over your chest, your arms, the line of your stomach. When she spoke, her voice was steadier than it had been.
"I'm not changing my mind."
"Good." You unbuckled your belt and pulled it free from the loops with a single smooth motion. The leather whispered against the fabric of your pants. "Because I'm just getting started." The belt was still in your hand. Karina watched it loop between your fingers, the leather dark against your palm. Her tears had left shiny tracks down her temples, disappearing into the hairline, and her breathing had gone shallow again—not from crying now, but from something else. Something that made her thighs press together on the white sheets.
“Sit up,” you said. She pushed herself upright, the bralette shifting as she moved. One strap slipped off her shoulder. She didn’t fix it. You folded the belt in half and ran your thumb along the smooth side. “You said you wanted to stop being Karina for a few hours.”
“Yes.”
“Then I’m going to take away your sight.” Her lips parted. A micro-flinch—not fear, not exactly. More like the body’s instinctive response to a cliff edge. The moment before the jump. “The blindfold,” you continued, “stays on until I take it off. If it becomes too much, you use the taps. Three of them. Anywhere you can reach me.”
“I know the rules.”
“I know you do.” You stepped closer, until your knees touched the edge of the mattress. “But I want to hear you say it. What happens if you need to stop?”
“Three taps.” Her voice was steadier now. “On you. Anywhere.”
“And what’s your word?”
“Red.”
“Good.” You reached down and brushed your knuckles along her jawline. The contact was feather-light, almost accidental. “Lift your hair.” She gathered the dark strands and held them up, exposing the nape of her neck. The movement arched her back slightly, pushed her chest forward. The black lace strained against her breasts. You brought the belt around her head. The leather was cool, supple from use. You positioned it across her eyes, careful not to catch her hair in the buckle, and pulled it snug against her temples. Not tight enough to hurt. Tight enough that she wouldn’t see anything but darkness.
“How does that feel?”
Karina exhaled. “Dark.”
“Can you see anything?”
“No.”
“Good.” You fastened the belt at the back of her head and let your fingers trail down the side of her neck as you withdrew. Her pulse hammered against your fingertips. “Now lie back down.” She lowered herself onto the mattress. The movement was different now—less controlled, more tentative. Without her sight, every shift of her body became a negotiation with the unknown. Her hands found the sheets and gripped them. You stood at the edge of the bed and looked at her. The idol that half of Korea fantasized about. The face on every billboard. Reduced to a blindfolded woman in black lace, her chest rising and falling in shallow, rapid cycles, her lips slick where she’d licked them.
“Spread your legs.” Karina’s thighs parted. The movement was slow, almost reluctant—but she did it. The matching black panties were cut high on her hips, the fabric thin enough that you could see the suggestion of her underneath. A dark shadow. A slight dampness already bleeding through.
“Wider.” She obeyed. Her knees fell open, exposing the full length of her. The panties pulled taut across her cunt. The outline of her lips. The little seam where they parted.
You didn’t touch her there. Not yet. Instead you climbed onto the bed, positioning yourself beside her. The mattress dipped under your weight, and Karina’s body shifted toward you instinctively—gravity pulling her toward the heat of your skin. “You’re going to use your mouth now,” you said. “And while you do, I’m going to play with these.” Your fingers found the strap of her bralette. You pulled it down. Then the other strap. The lace caught on her nipples for a moment—already peaked, already hard—before you tugged it free and let the fabric pool around her waist.
Karina’s breasts were full and pale, the nipples a dusty rose color that darkened at the tips. They stiffened further in the open air, and she made a small sound—something between a gasp and a whimper. “You like that.”
“Yes,” she breathed.
“You like being blindfolded. You like not knowing what’s coming next.”
“I… yes.” You traced a circle around her right nipple with your fingertip. The skin puckered. Karina’s back lifted off the mattress.
“Don’t move,” you said. “Stay still and let me touch you.” She forced herself down. The effort was visible—her abdominal muscles tensed, her hands fisting in the sheets. You circled the nipple again, closer this time, and then you took it between your thumb and forefinger and squeezed. The sound she made was not a moan. It was a broken exhale, a noise that started in her chest and caught in her throat. Her hips bucked once—an involuntary spasm—and then she forced them still. “That’s it,” you murmured. “Let your body react. Don’t fight it.”
You rolled the nipple between your fingers, working it slowly. The texture was fascinating—the way it tightened and pebbled under your touch, the way the areola crinkled around it. Karina’s breathing had gone ragged. A flush was spreading down her chest, past her collarbones, toward the swell of her breasts. “Does your husband ever touch you like this?”
“No—” The word came out strangled.
“Does he know what your body does when someone pays attention to it?”
“He doesn’t… he never…”
“He never what?”
“He never touches me.” The confession was barely a whisper. “He never—ah—” You’d switched to the other nipple, giving it the same treatment. Roll. Squeeze. A gentle twist that made her gasp and arch before she remembered she was supposed to stay still.
“Then he’s a fool,” you said. “Because your body is extraordinary.” You leaned down and took her nipple into your mouth. Karina cried out. The sound was sharp and sudden, echoing in the vast bedroom. Your tongue laved across the tight bud, traced circles around the areola, and then you sucked—a long, pulling pressure that made her whole body go rigid.
“Oh—oh god—” Her hands came up, flailing in the dark, and found your shoulders. Her nails dug in. You didn’t tell her to stop. Instead you sucked harder, pulling the nipple deep into your mouth while your other hand continued working its twin—rolling, pinching, tugging in counterpoint to the rhythm of your tongue. She was making sounds now that had no words in them. Just vowels. Just broken, desperate vowels that rose and fell with the movement of your mouth. You released her nipple with a wet pop.
“Hands down,” you said. “We’re not done.” Karina’s fingers uncurled from your shoulders. She lowered her arms back to the bed. Her chest was heaving, both nipples now slick and swollen, darker than they’d been before. The blindfold had shifted slightly—just a millimeter—but she hadn’t tried to remove it. “Good girl. Now.” You unfastened your pants and pushed them down. Your boxers followed. “I want you to sit up. I want you on your knees. Can you do that?”
She nodded. The belt bobbed with the movement. Getting her upright was an exercise in trust. She couldn’t see the edge of the bed, couldn’t gauge the distance. You guided her by the shoulders—first into a sitting position, then turning her so her legs hung off the side of the mattress. “On your knees,” you said. “On the floor.” Karina slid off the bed. Her knees hit the hardwood with a soft thud. The position put her face level with your hips, and even though she couldn’t see you, she must have sensed your proximity, because her breath quickened. “You’re going to use your mouth now,” you said. “The way you’ve been thinking about since you first called the agency. The way you’ve imagined in this empty bed at night while your husband was god knows where.”
Her lips parted. Her tongue darted out, wetting them. “But you don’t get to use your hands. Not yet. Just your mouth. And while you work, I’m going to keep playing with your nipples. Do you understand?”
“Yes.” You guided yourself toward her mouth. The head of your cock brushed her lower lip—just a touch, just enough for her to feel the heat. Karina’s whole body shuddered. “Open.” She did. Her jaw dropped, and you pushed forward, sliding the tip past her lips. The inside of her mouth was hot. Wet. Her tongue met the underside of your shaft, tentative at first, then bolder—flattening against you, tracing the ridge of the head. You groaned. The sound was involuntary. “That’s it. Take more.”
She did. Her lips stretched around your girth, and you watched her jaw work as she accommodated the intrusion. There was no hesitation now—the blindfold had freed her from something. From the performance. From the expectation. From Karina Yu, the idol, and all the ways that identity constrained her. The woman kneeling on the floor was just a woman. A woman who wanted to suck cock. You reached down and found her nipples again. Both of them this time, one in each hand, rolling them between your thumbs and forefingers as she began to move.
Karina moaned around your shaft. The vibration traveled through you, up your spine, into the base of your skull. “Mmm—”
She pulled back, let her tongue swirl around the head, then pushed forward again—deeper this time. Her throat flexed. A gag reflex triggered, and she choked, but she didn’t pull away. She held herself there, breathing through her nose, letting her throat adjust to the intrusion. “Fuck,” you breathed. “You’ve done this before.” She couldn’t answer—her mouth was full—but the way she moved said everything. This wasn’t practice. This was muscle memory. Somewhere in her past, before the fame and the management and the carefully curated image, there had been a girl who knew exactly what to do with her mouth. You pinched her nipples harder. She whimpered. Bobbed her head. The wet sounds of her mouth filled the room—the slick slide of lips on skin, the soft suction when she pulled back, the obscene little pop when she reached the tip and let go for just a moment before diving back down.
“Look at you.” Your voice had gone rough. “The most famous woman in Korea. On her knees. Blindfolded. Choking on a stranger’s cock.” Karina’s response was a moan that vibrated through your entire shaft. She sucked harder. Faster. Her tongue worked the underside of your cock with the kind of precision that spoke to experience—flicking against the frenulum, tracing the vein that ran along the length, pressing flat and wide when she reached the base. You tugged her nipples in rhythm with her bobbing. Pull when she went down. Release when she came up. The coordination turned her body into an instrument—you played her nipples, and she played you with her mouth. Saliva dripped down her chin. It pooled in the hollow of her throat, ran in thin rivulets toward her collarbones. She was messy now. Undone. The composed idol from an hour ago was dissolving into something rawer and infinitely more beautiful.
“Deeper,” you said. “Take it deeper.” She pushed forward. Her throat constricted around the head of your cock—a tight, hot pressure that made your vision swim. She gagged again, harder this time, and you felt her throat spasm around you. “Stay there.” She held. Her shoulders trembled. A tear leaked from beneath the blindfold—not from crying, but from the physical reflex of her throat trying to expel the intrusion. The tear tracked down her cheek and mixed with the saliva on her chin. You released her nipples and cupped her face instead. Your thumbs traced the stretched line of her lips, the bulge of your cock visible through her cheek.
“You’re perfect like this,” you murmured. “Blind. Choking. Desperate. This is what you needed, isn’t it? To be used. To be nothing but a mouth.” Karina made a sound—half moan, half sob—and nodded as much as she could with your cock buried in her throat. You pulled back. Let her breathe. A thick strand of saliva connected her bottom lip to the tip of your cock.
“Don’t swallow yet,” you said. “Let it drip.” She obeyed. The saliva pooled and spilled, running down her chin and onto her chest. It made her skin glisten in the low light.
“Now use your hands. Both of them. Show me how you touch yourself when you think about this.” Her hands came up immediately—eager, almost frantic. One wrapped around the base of your shaft while the other cupped your balls. Her fingers were cool against the heat of your skin. She squeezed gently, testing the weight, and then her mouth was back on you—lips stretched wide, tongue working, throat opening. The blindfold was soaked now. Tears and sweat had darkened the leather around her eyes. You reached down and found her nipples again. Plucked them. Rolled them. Pinched them until she keened around your cock, the sound high and desperate. “You love this. You love being on your knees for a stranger. You love not being in control.”
“Mmmhmm—” The affirmation vibrated through your shaft.
“Say it. Pull off and say it.” She let you go with a gasp. Her lips were swollen, the color darkened to a deep rose. “I love it. I love being on my knees. I love—” She swallowed, her throat working. “I love not being in control.”
“Why?”
“Because…” Her blindfolded face tilted up toward your voice. “Because for once I don’t have to pretend. I don’t have to be perfect. I don’t have to be Karina. I can just be… this.”
“A mouth.”
“Yes.”
“A set of holes.”
She shuddered. “Yes.”
“Say it.”
“I’m a mouth.” Her voice cracked. “I’m a set of holes. I’m just—I’m just a body that wants to be used.” You stroked her cheek. “Good girl. Now open up.” She did. Her jaw dropped, tongue extended—a gesture of pure, shameless submission. You guided yourself back into her mouth and this time you didn’t let her set the pace. You fucked her throat with slow, deliberate thrusts, watching her lips stretch around you, watching her chest heave as she struggled to breathe through her nose.
Your hands never left her nipples. They were dark now, engorged, slick with the saliva that had dripped down from her chin. You twisted them in opposite directions and Karina screamed around your cock—a muffled, desperate sound that was swallowed by the column of flesh filling her throat. “Again.” Twist. Scream. Her thighs squeezed together, and through the thin black panties you could see her cunt clenching on nothing.
“You’re getting wet from this. From choking on a stranger’s cock while he twists your nipples.” She couldn’t answer. Could only whimper and bob her head and take it. You pulled her off again. She gasped, coughed, and then immediately tried to lean forward—to get you back in her mouth. You held her by the hair. “Not yet. I want to look at you.” Karina knelt there, chest heaving, lips swollen and slick, chin dripping. The blindfold was a dark slash across her face. Her nipples jutted out from the flushed mounds of her breasts, hard and dark and wet. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” you said. “And I mean that. Not Karina the idol. Not the image. This. Right here. A woman who finally stopped pretending.”
Her lips trembled. “Please.”
“Please what?”
“Please let me finish. Please let me taste you. Please—I need—I need to feel you—”
“You need to feel me come down your throat.”
“Yes.” The word was a sob. “Yes. Please. Use my mouth. Use my throat. I don’t care if I can’t breathe. I just want to feel it. I want to taste it. Please.” You guided her back onto your cock. She took you deeper than before—no hesitation, no slow build. She swallowed you whole, her nose pressing against your abdomen, her throat working around the intrusion like it was made for this. Made for you. Your hands found her nipples one last time. You pinched them hard—the hardest yet—and held the pressure as she sucked. Karina’s whole body convulsed. Her thighs pressed together so tightly that the muscles in her legs stood out in sharp relief. A muffled, keening sound escaped from somewhere deep in her throat. She was close. Even without touching her cunt, even without any stimulation below the waist—she was close. The nipple play and the blindfold and the degradation had wound her up to a breaking point.
You felt your own climax building. A tightening at the base of your spine. A coiling pressure that radiated outward. “I’m going to come,” you said. “And you’re going to swallow every drop. Do you understand?” Karina’s response was to suck harder. Her tongue worked the underside of your shaft, pressing and stroking in time with her bobbing. Her hand cupped your balls and squeezed—gently, then harder—and that was it. The orgasm hit like a punch to the spine. You groaned—a deep, guttural sound—and your hands tightened on her nipples as the first pulse of cum shot into her mouth. She swallowed. You felt her throat work around the head of your cock, milking you, drawing out every pulse. The second shot. The third. She took them all, her lips sealed tight around your shaft, not letting a single drop escape.
“Fuck. Fuck, Karina—” She pulled back just enough to let the last pulse land on her tongue. Then she closed her mouth and swallowed again, her throat moving in a long, deliberate gulp. When she finally released you, she sat back on her heels. Her chest was still heaving. Her nipples were dark and swollen. Her chin glistened. A single drop of cum had escaped the corner of her mouth and was tracking slowly down toward her jaw. You reached down and wiped it away with your thumb. Then you pressed your thumb to her lips. She sucked it clean.
“Thank you,” she whispered. You crouched down in front of her. The blindfold was ruined—soaked through with tears and sweat, the leather darkened to near-black. You reached behind her head and unbuckled it. The belt fell away.
Karina blinked. Her eyes were glassy and unfocused, the pupils so dilated that her irises were barely visible. Tear tracks striped her cheeks. Her lips—swollen, bruised-looking, the lipstick she hadn’t been wearing long since replaced by a deeper, more honest color. She looked wrecked. She looked free. “How do you feel?” you asked.
A long pause. Then a smile—small, fragile, but real. “Like I’m still here. Like I’m actually… in my body. For the first time in months.” You brushed the hair away from her face. “We’re not done.” Karina’s smile widened, just a fraction. “I know.” “Lie back down on the bed. On your stomach this time.” She rose on unsteady legs and climbed onto the mattress. The black panties were soaked through now—a dark, wet patch that spread from the gusset all the way to the waistband. She arranged herself face-down on the white sheets, her arms stretched above her head, her legs slightly apart.
The position made her ass look incredible. Round and full, the cheeks peeking out from beneath the lace.
You climbed onto the bed behind her. Your cock was still half-hard, already stirring again at the sight of her. “I’m going to take these off now,” you said, hooking your fingers into the waistband of her panties. “And then I’m going to find out just how wet choking on a stranger’s cock made you.”
Karina’s voice was muffled by the pillow. “Yes. Please. Touch me.” You pulled the panties down. And stopped breathing. The panties slid down the curve of her ass, the black lace peeling away from skin that glistened with moisture. The gusset left a shining trail across the backs of her thighs—a snail's track of arousal that caught the bedroom's low light. You stopped breathing.
Karina's cunt was laid bare before you, the lips puffy and flushed a deep rose, parted just enough to reveal the darker, wetter flesh within. Her arousal had coated everything—the inner thighs, the neat strip of dark hair above her mound, the puckered swirl of her asshole that winked at you as she shifted on the mattress. The scent hit you next: salt and musk and something sweeter underneath, the raw perfume of a woman who'd been sucking cock while her nipples were tortured and had loved every second of it.
"Fuck," you breathed. Karina's response was muffled by the pillow. "What? What is it?"
"You're dripping. You're actually—" You ran one finger along the seam of her cunt, not pushing in, just gathering the slick that had pooled there. The touch made her whole body jolt. "You're soaked. All the way down your thighs."
"I know." Her voice cracked. "I could feel it. While I was—while you were in my mouth—I could feel myself getting wetter and I couldn't do anything about it."
"Did you want to?"
"Yes. God, yes. I wanted to touch myself so badly. But you told me not to move. So I just… leaked." You brought your slick-coated finger to your mouth and tasted her. Salty. Slightly bitter. Clean. The flavor bloomed on your tongue, and something in your chest tightened—not just lust, though there was plenty of that, but something closer to awe. The most famous woman in Korea was face-down on her marital bed, her cunt drooling onto the sheets, waiting for a stranger to decide what to do with her.
"Please," Karina whispered. "Please touch me. I've been waiting. I've been so patient. Please."
"How long has it been since someone touched you here?"
"Eight months. Since before the wedding. He never—Joon-ho never—" She choked on the name. "He never wanted to. Even before we got married. He said it was… messy. He said he preferred—"
"Preferred what?"
"His hand. His own hand. While I lay next to him pretending to be asleep." The confession hung in the air. You looked at the perfect curve of her ass, the trembling muscles of her thighs, the slick heat of her cunt that some man had decided wasn't worth his time. "His loss," you said. "Don't move." You positioned yourself behind her, kneeling between her spread legs. The position gave you a view of everything—the long line of her spine, the flare of her hips, the dark cleft of her ass, and at the center of it all, her cunt. Swollen. Wet. Waiting.
"Two fingers," you said. "I'm going to put two fingers inside you. And you're going to scream into that pillow." Karina grabbed the pillow and pulled it to her face. You pushed your middle finger into her first.
The heat was staggering. Tight—god, she was tight—but so wet that your finger slid in to the second knuckle without resistance. Her inner walls clenched around the intrusion, a rippling squeeze that traveled from base to tip. Karina's back arched. A strangled sound escaped the pillow.
"One," you said. "Here comes the second."
Your index finger joined the first. The stretch made her gasp—a sharp intake of air that she cut off by biting the pillow. You pushed both fingers deep, curling them upward, searching for the rough patch of tissue that would make her see stars.
You found it.
Karina screamed.
The sound was muffled by the pillow but still loud enough to echo in the vast bedroom. Her hips bucked backward, driving your fingers deeper. Her cunt clamped down with a force that made your knuckles ache.
"There it is," you murmured. "That's what you needed, isn't it? Someone to find it. Someone to touch it. Someone who isn't afraid of a little mess."
"Don't stop—please don't stop—"
You didn't stop. You fucked her with your fingers in slow, deep strokes, curling them against that spot every time you bottomed out. The wet sounds were obscene—a slick, squelching rhythm that filled the room. Her juices coated your hand, dripped down your wrist, pooled on the sheets beneath her.
"Listen to yourself," you said. "Listen to how wet you are. You sound like a—"
"Like a whore." The word came out muffled but clear. "Say it. I want you to say it."
"You sound like a whore. A dripping, desperate whore who's been neglected for eight months and finally has someone's fingers in her cunt."
Karina moaned—a long, wavering sound that rose in pitch as you increased your pace. Her fingers clawed at the sheets. Her ass lifted higher, presenting herself more openly, and you watched her cunt stretch around your fingers, the lips clinging to your knuckles every time you pulled back.
"More," she gasped. "More. I need more. I need—"
"You need what?"
"I need to come. Please. Please let me come. I've been so good. I swallowed everything. I didn't spill a drop. Please."
You slowed your fingers. Stopped them entirely, buried to the hilt inside her.
Karina whimpered. "No—no, why did you stop—"
"Because I want to hear you beg properly." You leaned down, your lips brushing the shell of her ear. "You're not Karina right now. You're not an idol. You're just a wet hole that wants to be filled. So beg like one."
A shudder ran through her body. Her voice, when it came, was smaller than before—stripped of the polish, stripped of everything except raw, naked need.
"Please fuck me with your fingers. Please make me come. I've been empty for so long. I've been so empty and so lonely and the only thing that's made me feel anything in months is your cock in my throat and your fingers on my nipples and now I need—I need you to let me finish. I need to feel something break inside me. Please. I'm begging you. I'm begging like the desperate slut I am. Please."
"Good girl."
You resumed fucking her with your fingers. Faster this time. Harder. The curl against her G-spot became a pounding rhythm, and Karina's whole body began to shake. Her thighs quivered. Her ass clenched and unclenched. The pillow was soaked with saliva and tears.
"I'm close—I'm so close—"
You pulled your fingers out.
"No!" The word was a howl. Her cunt gaped for a moment, empty and clenching on nothing, and then she collapsed forward onto the mattress. "Why? Why did you—I was right there—"
"Turn over."
She rolled onto her back. Her face was a wreck—eyes wild and glassy, cheeks blotchy with tears, lips still swollen from the blowjob. Her chest heaved. Her nipples stood out like dark berries against the pale swell of her breasts.
"Spread your legs."
She did. Her cunt was even more obscene from this angle—the lips engorged and spread, the inner flesh a slick, vivid pink, the hood of her clitoris pulled back to reveal the pearl beneath. Everything glistened.
"Touch yourself."
Karina's hand flew to her cunt. Her fingers found her clit and began rubbing in tight, frantic circles. Her other hand grabbed her breast, squeezing, pinching the nipple.
"That's it. Show me how you make yourself come when you're alone in this empty house."
"It's always you," she panted. "Not you—not you specifically—but someone. Someone who isn't him. Someone who wants me. I imagine—I imagine being taken. Being used. Being ruined." Her circles grew faster. "I imagine a stranger's cock. A stranger's hands. I imagine being bent over and fucked until I can't walk. Until I can't think. Until I forget my own name."
"And does your husband ever make you come?"
"Never. Not once. Not even—not even when we—ah—"
"Don't stop. Keep rubbing."
Her fingers were a blur on her clit. Her hips lifted off the mattress. The muscles in her stomach stood out in sharp definition. She was close again—you could see it in the flush spreading across her chest, the way her mouth fell open, the frantic, jerky movements of her hand.
"Please," she gasped. "Please let me—"
"Stop."
Her hand froze. A sound came out of her that wasn't human—a guttural, animal keen of pure frustration. Her clit twitched visibly, denied its release. Her cunt spasmed, squeezing around nothing, gushing a fresh surge of fluid that soaked the sheets.
"Fuck!" She slammed her fist against the mattress. "Fuck, fuck, fuck—"
You grabbed her wrist and pinned it above her head. "Look at me."
Karina's eyes met yours. They were wet and desperate and furious and grateful all at once.
"You said you wanted to be ruined. Ruined doesn't mean easy. Ruined doesn't mean I let you come the moment you ask nicely. Ruined means I take you apart piece by piece until there's nothing left but the animal underneath. Do you understand?"
"Yes." The word was barely a whisper.
"Do you still want this?"
"God, yes. Yes. Ruin me. Please. I want to be ruined."
You released her wrist. "Then get on your hands and knees. I want to see all of you."
Karina scrambled into position. The movement was ungraceful, uncoordinated—the idol's dancer precision abandoned in favor of pure, sloppy need. She presented herself on all fours, her back arched, her ass lifted high. The position opened her completely—her cunt a dark, wet gash between her thighs, her asshole a tight pink knot, everything glistening with the evidence of her arousal.
"Spread your ass cheeks."
Her hands reached back. Her fingers dug into the full flesh of her buttocks and pulled them apart, exposing herself more completely. The vulnerability of the gesture made your cock throb.
"Wider."
She stretched herself open until the pink of her cunt gaped slightly, until you could see the dark entrance of her body, the place where her wetness pooled and dripped in a slow, viscous thread onto the sheets.
"Please," she breathed. "Please ruin my pussy. I need your cock. I need it inside me. I've needed it since you walked through my door. Since before that. Since I first saw your picture in the agency file. Please. Fuck me. Fuck me like you hate me. Fuck me like I'm nothing."
You positioned yourself behind her.
Your cock was fully hard again—thick and veined, the head an angry purple, a bead of precum already forming at the slit. You gripped the base and ran the tip along her slit, coating yourself in her slick. The contact made her shudder.
"Is this what you want?"
"Yes—"
You pushed the head against her entrance. The heat of her cunt kissed the tip of your cock.
"Say it again. Louder."
"YES. Fuck me. Please fuck me. Ruin my pussy. I want to feel you in my womb. I want to feel you for days. I want to walk into my next schedule and still feel where you've been. Please—"
You thrust forward.
One motion. No gradual entry. No easing her open. You buried yourself to the hilt in a single, brutal stroke, and Karina's plea dissolved into a scream that had no words in it.
Her cunt was impossibly tight. The wet heat of her gripped every inch of you—a clenching, rippling pressure that traveled from base to tip. You felt the head of your cock butt against her cervix, felt the resistant give of that deepest barrier, and then you pushed past it.
Karina's scream pitched higher.
"Oh fuck—oh fuck, you're so deep—you're in my—"
"Your womb. I know."
You stayed there for a moment, buried to the root, letting her body adjust to the intrusion. Her inner walls fluttered around your shaft—spasms of sensation that were half pleasure, half shock. Her fingers were still digging into her ass cheeks, holding herself open, and you could see exactly where your bodies joined. The stretched ring of her cunt. The way her lips clung to the base of your cock. The shine of her fluids on your skin.
"You're taking all of it," you said. "Every inch. You feel that? Feel how deep I am?"
"Yes—yes, I feel it—I feel you in my stomach—"
"Good."
You pulled back. The drag of her walls against your shaft made your vision swim. Then you slammed forward again, harder than before, and Karina's head dropped between her shoulders, her whole body rocking forward from the force.
"AH—"
"Again."
Another thrust. Harder. The sound of your bodies colliding was a wet slap that echoed off the bedroom walls. Her ass rippled with the impact. Her breasts swung beneath her.
"You wanted to be ruined," you growled, gripping her hips. "So I'm going to ruin you. I'm going to fuck this tight little cunt until you can't remember your own name. Until you can't remember his name. Until the only thing in your head is my cock and how deep it is and how hard I'm using you."
"Yes—yes—fuck—harder—"
You gave her harder.
The rhythm you set was brutal—deep, driving strokes that bottomed out against her cervix with every thrust. The wet sounds of her cunt filled the room. Your balls slapped against her clit. Sweat dripped from your forehead onto her back, tracing rivulets down her spine.
Karina was making sounds that didn't belong to any language. Guttural moans. High-pitched whines. Broken syllables that might have been words if she'd had enough control to form them. Her fingers had released her ass cheeks and were now fisting in the sheets, knuckles white, arms trembling.
"Look at you. The most famous idol in Korea. On her hands and knees. Getting her pussy destroyed by a stranger. Moaning like an animal. This is what you needed, isn't it? Not the fame. Not the money. Not the perfect husband and the perfect house. This. Just this. Just a cock in your cunt and someone who knows how to use it."
"YES—YES, THIS—THIS IS WHAT I—OH FUCK—"
You reached around her body and found her clit. The bundle of nerves was swollen and slick, hard as a pebble under your fingertip. You pressed down and circled—not gently, not teasingly, but with the same brutal intensity as your thrusts.
Karina's whole body convulsed.
The orgasm hit her like a wave breaking against rocks. Her cunt clamped down on your cock with a force that almost hurt—a rhythmic, pulsing squeeze that traveled in waves from her core outward. Her back arched impossibly. Her head flew up, mouth open in a silent scream, eyes rolled back so far that only the whites were visible.
Then the sound came. A wail. A keening, animal cry that started low in her chest and rose to fill the room. Her arms gave out. She collapsed forward onto the mattress, but you followed her down, never stopping, never slowing, fucking her through the orgasm with the same relentless pace.
"Thaaaat's it—don't stop—don't stop—don't—I can't—it's too much—"
"You can take it. You wanted to be ruined. You're going to take every thrust until I'm done with you."
"It's too much—it's—oh god—OH GOD—"
A second orgasm crashed over her before the first had fully subsided. This one was stronger—violent, almost. Her cunt gushed around your cock, soaking your thighs, soaking the sheets. Her screams dissolved into sobs. Her body shook with a force that seemed to come from somewhere deeper than muscle, somewhere primal.
"Please—please—I can't—I can't take any more—"
"One more. Give me one more."
"I can't—I can't—"
"You can. Feel that? Feel how deep I am? Feel how full you are? That's what you needed. Not his empty house. Not his empty promises. This. A cock that fills you up. A body that knows how to use yours. Come for me again, Karina. Come on this cock like the desperate whore you told me you are."
Her response was unintelligible. A stream of syllables that might have been Korean, might have been English, might have been neither. A confession. A prayer. A surrender.
You drove into her harder—deeper, if that was even possible—and pressed your thumb against her clit. The stimulation was merciless. Her cunt seized around you. Her sobs pitched higher.
And then she shattered.
This orgasm was different from the others. Quieter. Deeper. Her body went rigid for a long, suspended moment—every muscle locked, every breath held. Then the release came, and it came with a flood. Her cunt gushed around your shaft—not just wetness this time, but a clear, copious fluid that sprayed against your thighs and soaked into the mattress beneath her.
Karina's voice broke on a single word: "Fuuuuck—"
Her body went limp. Completely limp. She collapsed into the wet sheets, her chest heaving, her limbs twitching with aftershocks. Her cunt still pulsed weakly around your cock—little flutters of sensation that traveled up your shaft.
You slowed your thrusts. Eased to a stop. Buried yourself deep inside her one last time and held there, feeling the heat of her body, the slick grip of her cunt, the violent thudding of her heart that you could feel through the walls of her core.
The room was silent except for her breathing—ragged, broken gasps that gradually slowed to something approaching normal.
"Are you still with me?" you asked.
A long pause. Then, muffled by the mattress: "I don't know. I think so. I think… I think that was…"
"That was what?"
"That was the first time. The first time anyone's ever—" She swallowed. The movement traveled through her whole body. "The first time anyone's ever made me come. Not just during sex. Ever."
You pulled out slowly. Her cunt made a wet, sucking sound as you withdrew—reluctant, almost, as if her body didn't want to let you go. A gush of fluid followed, clear and viscous, pooling on the already-soaked sheets.
Karina whimpered at the emptiness.
"Turn over," you said. "Look at me."
It took her a moment to find the strength. When she finally rolled onto her back, the sight of her made your chest tighten.
She was wrecked. Absolutely wrecked. Her face was blotchy with tears, her eyes swollen and glassy. Her lips—still puffy from the blowjob—were parted, a thin trail of drool connecting the corner of her mouth to her chin. Her nipples were dark and angry-looking, surrounded by faint marks where your fingers had been. Her thighs were slick with her own fluids. Her cunt gaped slightly, the lips engorged and spread, still pulsing with aftershocks.
She had never looked more beautiful.
"Thank you," she whispered.
"You don't have to thank me."
"I know. I want to." Her voice was hoarse—fucked raw, used up. "I've been numb for so long. I didn't even realize how numb until… until you made me feel all of this. The pain. The pleasure. The—the shame. The humiliation. I felt all of it. I'm still feeling it."
"And right now? How do you feel?"
Karina's eyes found yours. The glassiness was fading, replaced by something clearer. Something almost peaceful.
"Full," she said. "And sore. And wet. And tired. And…" A pause. "Alive. I feel alive."
You reached down and brushed a strand of sweat-damp hair away from her forehead. The gesture was gentle—a stark contrast to everything you'd just done to her body.
"Good," you said. "Because we're still not finished."
Her eyes widened. Then, slowly, a smile spread across her wrecked face—small and fragile and utterly genuine.
"I know," she said. "I was counting on it."
The shower was a rainfall fixture, wide enough for two, the water coming down in a steady, warm curtain. Steam fogged the glass enclosure. You stood behind Karina, cupping water in your palms and letting it run down her back. The rivulets tracked the geography you'd already memorized—the dip of her spine, the flare of her hips, the twin dimples just above the swell of her ass.
She leaned against the marble wall, forehead pressed to the cool stone.
"I can't feel my legs," she mumbled.
"That's normal."
"Is it?" A laugh, breathy and exhausted. "Good to know."
You reached for the body wash—something expensive, sandalwood and bergamot—and worked it into a lather between your hands. When you touched her shoulders, Karina sighed. The sound was different from the ones that had filled the bedroom an hour ago. Softer. Quieter. The sigh of a body that had been wrung dry and was finally allowed to rest.
Your hands moved down her back in slow circles. Over the faint red marks your fingers had left on her hips. Across the small of her back where sweat had pooled and dried. Down to the curve of her ass, where you kneaded the muscle with careful pressure.
"You're going to be sore tomorrow," you said.
"Good." Her voice was muffled against the marble. "I want to be sore. I want to remember."
"Remember what?"
She turned around. Water sluiced down her front, plastering her hair to her neck and shoulders. The mascara she hadn't been wearing was long gone, but her eyes were still rimmed with red, still slightly swollen. The marks on her nipples had darkened. Her lips—still puffy, still that deep bruised rose—curved into something that wasn't quite a smile.
"That I'm a real person. That someone wanted me. That for a few hours, I wasn't just a photograph."
You cupped her face. Your thumbs traced her cheekbones. "You were never just a photograph."
"You know what I mean."
"I do." You leaned down and kissed her forehead. Then the bridge of her nose. Then each eyelid, feather-light, the way you'd close a book you weren't finished reading. "But you need to hear it anyway. You're not what he made you feel. You were never what he made you feel."
Karina's breath shuddered out. Fresh tears mixed with the shower water—silent ones this time, not the wrenching sobs from before. She didn't answer. Didn't need to. You held her there in the steam until the water started to cool.
Later, wrapped in a robe that probably cost more than your monthly car payment, Karina walked you to the front door.
The foyer was different now. Less cavernous. The unopened flowers still sat on the console table, but something about them had shifted—they looked less like an accusation and more like a relic. A fossil from a life she was leaving behind.
She pressed a small folded paper into your palm.
"My real number," she said. "Not the one the agency has. Not the one my manager screens." Her fingers lingered on your wrist. "Call me. Or text me. I don't care which. Just… don't disappear."
You unfolded the paper. The handwriting was neat, precise—idol training, probably, years of signing autographs until every stroke was perfect. Ten digits. No name. She didn't need one.
"I won't disappear," you said.
"You say that now."
"I mean it." You caught her hand and lifted it to your lips. Kissed her knuckles. Then the inside of her wrist, where the skin was thin and the pulse still fluttered. "You survived eight months of being invisible in your own house. The least I can do is answer a text."
She laughed—a real one this time, short and surprised. "That's a low bar."
"I'm a simple man."
Karina pulled her hand back, but slowly, the way you set down something fragile. "Go. Before I ask you to stay."
You didn't say goodbye. The training had taught you better than that. Goodbye implied an ending, and endings were the one thing clients like Karina didn't need more of. Instead you stepped out into the cool night air, the paper clutched in your hand, and let the door click shut behind you.
Three weeks passed.
Senior Park called on a Tuesday.
"New client," he said, the way he always did—like he was offering you a gift and daring you to guess what was inside. "Young. Married. The usual story."
"The usual story" had become a kind of shorthand between you. Rich husband. Neglected wife. A mansion full of expensive things and no warmth. You'd heard it so many times now that the details blurred together—only the faces changed, and even those were starting to feel familiar. Actresses. Idols. The wives of men who'd acquired beauty like a stock portfolio and then forgotten to check on it.
"Who is it?" you asked.
A pause. Park was savoring this.
"Jang Wonyoung."
The name hit you like a bucket of cold water.
"Wonyoung? From IVE?"
"The one and only." You could hear the grin in his voice. "Married at twenty-eight. To Kim Seok-joong. The producer. You know him?"
Everyone knew him. Kim Seok-joong had produced half the hits on the charts for the last five years—a genius behind the mixing board, a tyrant in the studio, and, according to every rumor mill in the industry, a man who treated marriage vows like a suggestion. The tabloids had run photos of him leaving clubs with trainees young enough to be his daughters. Wonyoung's name always appeared in the same articles, usually paired with words like "humiliated" and "trapped."
"She called us directly," Park continued. "Apparently she heard about us through a mutual acquaintance. Someone who spoke very highly of your work."
You thought of Karina. Of the paper still folded in your wallet.
"Mutual acquaintance?"
"I don't ask. I don't want to know. I just make the arrangements." The rustle of paper on his end. "She's in Hannam-dong. The penthouse. Tomorrow night, nine o'clock. Don't be late."
The line went dead.
Hannam-dong at night was a different kind of wealth than the gated mansions of the suburbs. Here the money went vertical—glass towers that stabbed into the sky, each floor a monument to someone's ambition. The penthouse elevator required a code, which Senior Park had texted you an hour earlier along with a single line: She's nervous. Go slow.
The elevator ascended in silence. No muzak. No mirrored walls. Just brushed steel and the soft hum of hydraulics. You watched the floor numbers climb and tried not to think about the fact that Jang Wonyoung was waiting at the top of this building. Jang Wonyoung, who'd debuted at fourteen and been famous before she could legally drive. Jang Wonyoung, whose face had sold a million magazines. Jang Wonyoung, who'd married a man twice her age and apparently regretted it before the ink on the certificate was dry.
The doors opened onto a private foyer.
The penthouse was smaller than Karina's mansion—everything in Seoul was smaller than Karina's mansion—but it made up for it in verticality. Floor-to-ceiling windows looked out over the Han River, the city lights reflected in the water like scattered coins. The furniture was minimalist: a low white sofa, a glass coffee table, a single orchid in a concrete pot. No photographs. No personal touches. It looked less like a home and more like a hotel suite where someone had been staying for too long.
Wonyoung stood at the window with her back to you.
She was taller than you'd expected. Taller than she looked on stage, where the camera angles and the choreography and the other members had a way of shrinking her. In person, barefoot on the marble floor, she was statuesque—long legs, a narrow waist, the kind of proportions that designers fought to dress. She wore an ivory silk robe that fell to her ankles, her dark hair loose and straight, still damp at the ends as if she'd just showered.
"It's a nice view," you said.
She didn't turn around. "I used to think so."
Her voice was different from Karina's. Lower. Flatter. Where Karina's words had crackled with suppressed fury, Wonyoung's came out like the air leaking from a tire—slow, deflated, resigned.
You stepped further into the room. "Senior Park said you wanted to meet me."
"Meet you." A short laugh. "That's a polite way of putting it."
"I can leave."
"Can you?" Now she turned. The sight of her face hit you like a physical force—the kind of beauty that felt almost aggressive, all sharp angles and full lips and eyes that were too big for her face. But there was something hollow behind them. Something that had been scooped out and never filled back in. "You can leave. You can stay. You can do whatever you want. I'm just… here."
"How long have you been 'just here'?"
Wonyoung crossed her arms over her chest. The robe was silk, thin enough that you could see the outline of her body beneath it—the curve of her breasts, the flat plane of her stomach, the long lines of her thighs. She wasn't trying to be seductive. She wasn't trying to be anything. That was the most unsettling part.
"A year," she said. "Maybe longer. I stopped counting."
"A year of what?"
"Of waiting. Of pretending. Of showing up to award shows on his arm while everyone in the audience knows he fucked one of his backup dancers the night before." Her jaw tightened. "Do you know what that's like? To smile for cameras while your husband's mistress is standing ten feet away, adjusting her earpiece?"
You didn't answer. You'd learned with Karina that sometimes the best response was no response—just the space to let the words hang in the air until they lost their poison.
Wonyoung uncrossed her arms. Let them fall to her sides. "I'm not looking for sympathy."
"Then what are you looking for?"
"The same thing everyone who calls your agency is looking for." She met your eyes, and for a moment the hollowness flickered—replaced by something harder. Something almost defiant. "I want to feel like I exist. Like I'm not just… a decoration. A trophy. Something he acquired and then forgot about."
"How old are you?"
"Twenty-nine."
"And how old is he?"
A pause. "Fifty-two."
You let the number sit there. Fifty-two. Older than her father, probably. Old enough to know better. Old enough to treat a twenty-eight-year-old bride like a collectible—desirable right up until the moment the paperwork was signed, and then irrelevant.
"What does he say when you confront him?" you asked.
Wonyoung's laugh was empty. "He doesn't. He just… leaves. Goes to the studio. Comes back three days later smelling like someone else's perfume. And I'm supposed to pretend I don't notice. I'm supposed to be grateful. He made my career, after all. Half my songs were his. Half my image. Half my life." Her voice cracked on the last word. "I was nineteen when I met him. I didn't know anything. I thought it was love."
"What do you think it was now?"
"Ownership." The word came out flat. "He didn't want a wife. He wanted a muse. Something beautiful to inspire him. And now he's inspired by someone else, and I'm just… here. In this penthouse. With this view. Waiting for him to come home and pretending I don't know where he's been."
You moved closer. Not close enough to touch—not yet—but close enough that she had to tilt her head slightly to keep meeting your eyes.
"What do you want from tonight?"
Wonyoung held your gaze. The defiance was back, stronger now, warring with the exhaustion. "I want to stop waiting. I want to be touched by someone who actually wants to touch me. I want…" She swallowed. "I want to feel like a woman instead of a photograph. Does that make sense?"
"Perfect sense."
"And you can do that? You can… give me that?"
"I can give you whatever you're willing to take." You held out your hand, palm up, the same way you had with Karina three weeks ago. "But I need to hear you say it. I need to know you're sure."
Wonyoung looked at your hand. The hesitation was visible—the same hesitation every client had, the moment before they crossed the line from thinking about it to doing it. The moment where the life they'd been living warred with the life they wanted.
Then she took it.
"I'm sure," she said. "I've been sure for six months. I just didn't know who to call."
"Your safeword?"
"Red."
"And if you can't speak?"
"Three taps. Anywhere you can feel them."
Her palm was cool against yours. Her fingers were long and slender—pianist's fingers, though you knew she didn't play. The silk of her robe brushed against your wrist.
"Before we start," you said, "I want you to know something."
"What?"
"This isn't about your husband. This isn't about revenge. This isn't about making him feel what you've been feeling." You squeezed her hand gently. "This is about you. Right now. In this room. Nothing else exists. Do you understand?"
Wonyoung's lips parted. For a moment she looked younger—not twenty-nine, but nineteen again, standing in a studio somewhere and believing that the famous producer who'd noticed her was offering her the world.
"I understand," she said.
"Good. Now take off the robe."
She released your hand. Her fingers went to the sash at her waist, the silk loosening with a whisper. The robe slipped off her shoulders. Pooled at her feet.
Underneath she wore nothing at all.
Her body was long and lean, with the kind of proportions that seemed almost impossible outside of a magazine spread. Small, high breasts with nipples the color of pale tea. A waist that nipped in dramatically before flaring into hips that had launched a thousand fan cams. Long legs, smooth and toned, the muscles of a dancer visible beneath the skin. A dark triangle of hair at the junction of her thighs, neatly trimmed.
But what struck you most wasn't the beauty. It was the stillness. Karina had been trembling with suppressed energy, her body practically vibrating with need. Wonyoung stood completely motionless, her arms at her sides, her expression unreadable. She looked like a statue—beautiful and cold and utterly detached from the body she occupied.
"You're very beautiful," you said.
"I know." Not arrogant. Just… factual. "People tell me that a lot."
"Do you believe them?"
A flicker of something—surprise, maybe, or confusion. "What?"
"Do you believe them? When they tell you you're beautiful. Do you feel beautiful?"
Wonyoung's brow furrowed. "I don't… I don't know what you mean."
"I think you do." You circled her slowly, the way you'd circle a sculpture in a gallery. "You've been told you're beautiful your whole life. It's on every magazine cover. Every comment section. Every introduction. But when you look in the mirror, what do you see?"
Her voice was quieter now. "I see what everyone else sees."
"That's not what I asked."
You stopped behind her. The view from here was just as striking—the sweep of her back, the curve of her ass, the way her hair fell in a dark curtain between her shoulder blades. She hadn't turned to follow you. She was still facing the window, still looking at the river and the lights.
"I asked what you see," you continued. "Not what they see. Not what the cameras see. What you see."
The silence stretched. Outside, a boat moved across the Han River, its lights reflecting in the dark water.
"Nothing," Wonyoung said finally. "I see nothing. I see a body that exists to be looked at. A face that exists to be photographed. When I look in the mirror, I don't see a person. I see…" She trailed off.
"A product."
"Yes." The word was barely audible. "A product. Something that was packaged and sold before I understood what I was agreeing to."
You stepped closer. Close enough that the heat of your body registered against her bare back. Close enough that if she leaned back even an inch, she'd be touching you.
"That ends tonight," you said. "Tonight, you're not a product. You're not a photograph. You're not what your husband neglected or what the cameras captured. You're a woman. Just a woman. And I'm going to make you feel like one."
Wonyoung's breathing had changed. Shallower. Faster. Her shoulders rose and fell in the window's reflection.
"How?" she asked.
"First, I'm going to touch you. Not the way a photographer touches you. Not the way a stylist touches you. I'm going to touch you the way a man touches a woman he wants." You raised your hand and let it hover just above her shoulder—not making contact, but close enough that she could feel the heat of your palm. "And you're going to stand right here and let yourself feel it. All of it. Every sensation. Do you understand?"
Her voice was a whisper. "Yes."
"Good."
You let your hand settle on her shoulder.
The contact was light—just your palm against her skin, your fingers curving over the ridge of her collarbone. But Wonyoung's reaction was immediate. Her breath stuttered. Her spine stiffened. The muscles beneath your hand went rigid, then slowly, gradually, began to soften.
"When's the last time someone touched you?" you asked.
"I don't…" She swallowed. "I don't remember."
"Months?"
"Longer. Before the wedding, maybe. He was… interested then. Before he had me. After that…" She shook her head.
You moved your hand down her arm. Slowly. Deliberately. Letting your fingers trace the curve of her bicep, the dip of her elbow, the smooth skin of her forearm. Goosebumps rose in the wake of your touch.
"Close your eyes," you said.
She did. Her lashes swept down against her cheeks, dark against the pale skin.
"Now I want you to focus on what you're feeling. Not what you're thinking. Not what you're worried about. Just the physical sensation. My hand on your skin. The heat of my body behind you. The cool air on the rest of you. Can you do that?"
"I can try."
"Don't try. Just do."
You brought your other hand to her waist. The silk of the robe had been thin, but her bare skin was thinner—softer, warmer, alive in a way the fabric never could be. You felt the slight give of flesh over muscle, the delicate architecture of her ribs. Wonyoung's lips parted. A tremor ran through her.
"Good," you murmured. "That's it. Stay present. Stay here."
Your hands moved together now—one sliding up to cup her breast, the other tracing the curve of her hip. The contact was gentle, almost reverent. You weren't trying to arouse her yet. You were trying to wake her up. To remind her body that it was capable of sensation beyond the clinical touches of stylists and makeup artists and the indifferent hands of a husband who'd long since stopped seeing her as anything but an acquisition.
Her breast was small and firm, fitting perfectly in your palm. The nipple was already tightening—an involuntary response, the body's language for yes, this, more. You circled it with your thumb, not quite touching the peak, letting the anticipation build.
"Oh," she breathed. Just that. Just the single syllable, but it was the most human sound she'd made since you'd arrived.
"You feel that?"
"Yes."
"What does it feel like?"
"Warm. It feels… warm. And tingly. Like—like pins and needles, but soft."
"That's your body waking up." You brushed your thumb across her nipple, finally making contact. The peak was hard now, pebbled and tight. Wonyoung's breath caught. Her hips shifted—an instinctive movement, barely conscious. "That's your body remembering what it feels like to be touched."
"Don't stop," she whispered.
"I'm not stopping. I'm just getting started."
You turned her around to face you. Her eyes were still closed, her lips slightly parted, a flush spreading across her chest. The cool, detached statue from five minutes ago was already beginning to thaw.
"Open your eyes," you said.
She did. The hollowness was still there, but it had receded slightly—pushed back by something warmer. Something hungrier.
"Lie down on the bed," you said. "On your back. I'm going to touch every inch of you, and you're going to stay present for all of it. No disappearing. No retreating into your head. You're going to feel everything. Do you understand?"
Wonyoung's voice was steadier now. "Yes."
"Good. Then let's begin."
She walked toward the bedroom—the same statuesque stride, but looser now, less guarded. The ivory robe stayed in a puddle on the floor behind her, already forgotten.
You followed her. The penthouse bedroom was all windows on one side, the city lights glittering below like a mirror image of the stars. A king-sized bed dominated the center of the room. White sheets. Too many pillows. The same story, different setting.
Wonyoung lay down in the center of the mattress. Arranged herself with her arms at her sides, her hair spread across the pillow, her legs slightly apart. The position was almost clinical—like she was posing for a photograph. Muscle memory.
"Relax your arms," you said. "Above your head."
She lifted them. The movement pulled her breasts higher, flattened her stomach.
"Close your eyes."
Her lashes swept down.
You knelt on the bed beside her. In the silence, you could hear her breathing—quicker than before, but still controlled. Still holding onto something. You would need to break through that control. Not with force. With patience. With attention. With the kind of touch she'd been starved of for years.
"Now," you said, letting your hand hover over her stomach. "Let's find out what Jang Wonyoung feels like when she stops being a photograph and starts being a woman."
Your palm settled on her skin.
And Wonyoung began to tremble.
Your palm settled on Wonyoung's stomach.
The trembling started small—a flutter of muscle beneath warm skin—then spread outward, rippling through her thighs, her belly, the flat plane of her chest. She kept her eyes closed, arms still arranged above her head in that posing-for-a-photograph way that had become second nature.
"You're shaking," you said.
"I know." Her voice was thinner now. "I can't seem to stop."
"Don't stop. Let it happen."
Your hand moved in a slow circle, tracing the faint definition of her abdominal muscles. The skin here was softer than you'd expected—yielding, warm, the kind of softness that came from being young and healthy and well-cared-for in every way except the one that mattered. Wonyoung's breath stuttered when your palm grazed the bottom of her ribcage.
"What are you feeling?"
"Your hand." A pause. "It's… warmer than I expected."
"What else?"
"I don't know. It's been so long since—" She swallowed. The movement traveled down her throat, a subtle ripple. "Since anyone touched me without an agenda. My stylists touch me to adjust my clothes. Photographers touch me to fix my hair. Seok-joong…" The name came out like a curse. "He doesn't touch me at all."
You traced the lower curve of her breast. Not the nipple—not yet—just the swell where her chest began to rise. The skin was impossibly smooth, pale as cream in the city light streaming through the windows.
"When's the last time you touched yourself?"
Wonyoung's eyes opened. The question had surprised her. "What?"
"You heard me."
"I don't…" Her brow furrowed. "I don't do that."
"You don't masturbate?"
The word made her flinch. A tiny recoil, barely visible, but you caught it. "That's not something I—I mean, I've never really—"
"Never?" You kept your hand where it was, still and warm against the curve of her breast. "You've never made yourself come?"
Wonyoung closed her eyes again. A flush was spreading from her chest up her neck, blooming across her collarbones like spilled wine. "Once. Maybe twice. A long time ago. Before I debuted. Before everything got so…" She trailed off.
"So controlled."
"Yes."
"Show me."
Her eyes flew open. "What?"
"Sit up." You withdrew your hand and sat back on your heels. "I want to watch you touch yourself. I want to see how Jang Wonyoung pleasures her own body when no one else is looking."
The hesitation was visible—a war playing out behind her eyes. The trained idol, the curated image, the woman who'd spent her entire adult life being looked at without ever being touched. Then something shifted. A crack in the facade. Her lips parted.
"Okay," she whispered.
She sat up slowly. The movement was graceful despite her trembling—dancer's muscle memory, the body knowing what to do even when the mind was unmoored. She propped herself against the headboard, the white sheets pooling around her hips. Her breasts were small and high on her chest, the nipples still tight from your earlier attention.
"Lie back," you said. "Spread your legs. Let me see all of you."
Wonyoung arranged herself against the pillows. Her thighs parted with visible reluctance—not resistance, but the shyness of a woman who'd been taught that her body was a commodity, not a source of pleasure. The dark triangle of hair between her legs was neatly trimmed, the lips beneath barely visible in the dim light.
"Touch your breasts first," you said. "The way you like it."
Her hands lifted. The movement was hesitant, almost clinical, like she was examining herself rather than pleasuring herself. Her fingers brushed her nipples and she gasped—a sharp, surprised sound.
"That's it. They're sensitive, aren't they?"
"Yes—I didn't know—no one's ever—"
"No one's ever played with your nipples?"
"No." The word came out strangled. Her fingers circled the tight peaks, tracing the areolae with tentative strokes. "Seok-joong said breasts were for—ah—for looking at. Not for—"
"Not for touching."
"Not for touching."
You watched her hands grow bolder. The circles became pinches—gentle at first, then harder, the way you'd done earlier. Her back arched slightly. Her mouth fell open.
"Good girl. Now move one hand lower. Touch yourself between your legs."
Wonyoung's right hand slid down her stomach. The trembling was worse now—her whole body vibrating with a tension that had nothing to do with cold and everything to do with the forbidden nature of what she was doing. Her fingers reached the dark curls and stopped.
"I don't know if I can—"
"You can. Part your lips for me. Show me your cunt."
The vulgar word made her gasp. But her fingers obeyed—they slid through the trimmed hair, parted the outer lips, exposed the pink flesh within. Even from where you knelt, you could see the gleam of moisture. The way her inner lips clung together, then separated with a wet, sticky sound.
"You're wet," you said. "You're wet and you haven't even touched your clit yet."
"Is that—is that normal?"
"It's more than normal. It's beautiful. You're beautiful." You leaned closer. "Now find your clit. The little pearl at the top. Touch it."
Wonyoung's middle finger found the swollen bud. The contact made her whole body jerk. A sound escaped her—half moan, half whimper—and her thighs snapped shut around her hand.
"Keep them open. I want to watch."
"I can't—it's too—"
"You can. Open your legs, Wonyoung. Let me see what your body does when you stop being a photograph."
She forced her thighs apart. The effort was visible—muscles trembling, breath coming in sharp, ragged bursts. Her finger began to circle her clit in slow, tentative strokes. The hood pulled back with each pass, revealing the slick pearl beneath. Her other hand stayed on her breast, pinching and rolling the nipple in counterpoint.
"There," she breathed. "Oh—there—that feels—"
"What does it feel like?"
"Tight. Hot. Like—like something's building. Like I need to—" Her circling grew faster. "Like I need to—"
"You need to come."
"Yes." The word was a sob. "Yes. I need to come. Please. I've never—not with anyone watching—not with anyone—"
"Come for me, Wonyoung. Let go. I've got you."
Her body seized. Her back arched off the mattress, her head thrown back, her mouth open in a silent scream. The hand between her legs moved frantically—rubbing, pressing, chasing the climax that was crashing over her. A keening sound escaped her throat, high and desperate.
Then she collapsed.
Her chest heaved. Her thighs quivered. The hand on her breast fell away, and the other remained pressed against her cunt—not moving now, just holding, as if she couldn't bear to let go of the sensation.
"That was your first orgasm with an audience," you said.
Wonyoung's laugh was breathless, almost giddy. "That was my first orgasm. Period. I don't think the other times—I don't think they were real. Not like that."
"Not like that."
"No." She opened her eyes and looked at you. The hollowness was gone—replaced by something brighter, something almost hungry. "I want more. I want—" She swallowed. "I want you inside me. But I want to be in control. Just this once. I want to decide."
You raised an eyebrow. "You want to ride me."
"Yes." The word came out stronger now. "I've spent my whole life being positioned. Being told where to stand and how to pose and what to wear. I want—just this once—I want to be the one who decides. Does that make sense?"
"It makes perfect sense."
You stood up from the bed and unbuckled your pants. Wonyoung watched with open curiosity—the way her eyes tracked the movement of your hands, the way her lips parted when you pushed your boxers down and your cock sprang free. She'd seen it earlier, of course, but now she looked at it differently. Like she was sizing it up. Like she was planning.
"It's thicker than I thought," she murmured.
"Is that a problem?"
"No." A small smile played at the corner of her mouth. "It's just… I've never seen one this close before. Not like this. Seok-joong and I—the few times we—it was always in the dark. Always over quickly. He never let me look."
"Look all you want."
She did. Her gaze traveled the length of your shaft—the vein that pulsed along the underside, the ridge of the head, the way the skin pulled tight when you were fully hard. Her tongue darted out and wet her lips.
"Lie down," she said. "On your back."
You obeyed. The sheets were cool against your shoulders. Wonyoung rose on her knees and swung one long leg over your hips, straddling you. The position put her cunt directly above your cock—you could see the pink of her inner lips, still slick from her orgasm, still parted and ready. A drop of her arousal fell onto your stomach.
"Like this?" she asked.
"Reverse."
"What?"
"Turn around. Face my feet. Reverse cowgirl."
Wonyoung blinked. Then understanding dawned, and with it came something you hadn't seen on her face before—a flicker of genuine excitement. "I've seen this position. In… things I've watched. When I was alone."
"Then you know how it works."
She turned around. The movement was awkward—she had to lift one leg, then the other, bracing herself with a hand on your thigh—but the awkwardness was part of the appeal. She wasn't performing. She wasn't posing. She was just a woman figuring out how to take what she wanted.
When she settled into position, facing away from you, the view was spectacular. The long sweep of her back. The curve of her ass, round and firm. The dark cleft between her cheeks, and below that, her cunt—still wet, still open, positioned directly above your cock.
"Reach back," you said. "Take hold of me."
Her hand fumbled behind her. Fingers brushed your shaft, then your balls, then closed around the base. Her grip was tentative—too light, too careful—but she guided the head to her entrance anyway. The contact made her gasp.
"Oh god. You're so—I can feel how big you are just from this—"
"Take your time. You're in control."
Wonyoung lowered herself an inch. The head of your cock pressed against her opening, parting the slick lips. The heat of her was incredible—wet and tight and pulsing with the aftershocks of her orgasm. She stopped there, breathing hard, her thighs trembling on either side of your hips.
"I don't know if I can—"
"You can. Slowly. Just a little at a time."
She sank down another inch. The head slipped inside her, and Wonyoung cried out—a sharp, startled sound that was half pain and half pleasure. Her inner walls clenched around you, a rippling squeeze that traveled from tip to base.
"Fuck—fuck, you're stretching me—"
"You're doing so well. Take what you need."
Another inch. Then another. Her cunt was impossibly tight—tighter than Karina's, tighter than anyone you'd been with in recent memory. The walls gripped you like a fist, hot and slick and pulsing. Wonyoung's breathing had gone ragged. Her head dropped forward. Her hands braced on your thighs, nails digging in.
"I'm only halfway—oh god—I'm only halfway and I already feel so full—"
"Keep going. You wanted control. Take it."
She took it. Her hips dropped the rest of the way, and your cock buried itself to the hilt inside her. Wonyoung screamed. The sound was raw and uncontrolled—nothing like the polished idol voice, nothing like the careful, measured tones she'd used earlier. This was pure animal. Pure sensation.
"Oh fuck—oh fuck—you're in my stomach—I can feel you in my stomach—"
"Good. Now move."
She lifted her hips. The drag of her walls against your shaft made your vision swim. When she dropped back down, the impact sent a visible ripple through her ass. The cheeks jiggled with the force of it.
"Yes—" She did it again. Faster. "Yes—this is—this is what I wanted—this is what I needed—"
"Tell me what it feels like."
"Full. So full. Like—like I'm being split open. Like I'm being—ah—like I'm being claimed." She was moving faster now, finding a rhythm, her hips rolling in a way that spoke to years of dance training. The muscles in her back flexed and released with each stroke. "But I'm the one claiming you. I'm the one—I'm the one in control—"
"That's right. You're in control. Take your pleasure, Wonyoung. Take all of it."
Her pace quickened. The wet sounds of her cunt filled the bedroom—a slick, rhythmic slap every time she bottomed out. Your cock was coated in her arousal, glistening in the city light. She reached back with one hand and grabbed your chest—not for balance, but for leverage, pulling herself harder onto you with each stroke.
"Touch my—touch my breasts—please—I need—"
You reached up and cupped her breasts from behind. The position was awkward but the effect was immediate—Wonyoung's rhythm faltered, then resumed faster than before. You pinched her nipples and she sobbed.
"Yes—yes—harder—"
You twisted. She keened. Her hips became a blur—up and down, up and down, fucking herself on your cock with a desperation that bordered on violence. Her head was thrown back now, her dark hair cascading down her spine, her whole body sheened with sweat.
"I'm close—I'm getting close again—I can feel it building—"
"Look at you. Jang Wonyoung. The nation's sweetheart. Riding a stranger's cock in her marital bed. Moaning like an animal. Dripping down my thighs."
"Yes—yes—I'm dripping—I'm making a mess—Seok-joong would hate this—he'd hate how wet I am—he'd hate how—how much I love it—"
"How much do you love it?"
"So much—so fucking much—I love being full—I love being stretched—I love being in control—I love that you're letting me—" Her voice cracked. "I love that you're letting me take what I need—"
The tears started then.
They came without warning—a sudden spill from her eyes, tracking down her cheeks and dripping onto your thighs. Her rhythm faltered. Her breathing hitched and broke into sobs.
"I'm sorry—I'm sorry—I don't know why I'm—"
"Don't stop." You squeezed her breasts gently. "Don't apologize. Keep moving. Let it out."
"I can't—I can't stop crying—" But her hips kept moving. Slower now, but still moving. "It's just—it's been so long—I've been so alone—"
"I know."
"No one touches me. No one looks at me. No one wants me. I'm just—I'm just a thing he bought and forgot about—"
"You're not a thing. You're a woman. A beautiful, passionate woman who deserves to be touched and wanted and pleasured. Keep moving. Let yourself feel it."
The sobs grew louder. Her hips moved faster, chasing the release that was building despite—or maybe because of—the tears. Her hand tightened on your chest, nails digging crescents into your skin.
"I want to come—please—please let me come—"
"It's yours. Take it. Come on my cock, Wonyoung. Come while you're crying. Come while you're in control. Show me what you look like when you let go."
She shattered.
The orgasm hit her like a wave—a convulsive, full-body spasm that made her back arch and her thighs clamp around your hips. Her cunt seized around your shaft, a rhythmic pulsing that milked you from base to tip. The scream that tore from her throat was wordless and raw, echoing off the penthouse windows.
And then she squirted.
The fluid gushed around your cock—a hot, copious flood that soaked your thighs and the sheets beneath you. Wonyoung's hips kept moving through it, grinding down onto you, drawing out every pulse of her climax. The squelching sounds were obscene. Her sobs mingled with moans.
"Oh god—oh god, I'm still—it's still going—I can't stop—"
"Don't stop. Take everything."
She rode the orgasm until her thighs gave out. Then she collapsed backward, her spine landing against your chest, her head falling back onto your shoulder. Her cunt was still spasming weakly around your cock. Her chest heaved. Her face was a wreck—tears and sweat and smeared mascara that she hadn't been wearing.
You wrapped your arms around her waist and held her.
The silence stretched. Outside, the Han River glittered in the darkness, indifferent to everything happening in this penthouse. Wonyoung's breathing gradually slowed. The tremors in her thighs subsided.
"Thank you," she whispered.
"You don't have to thank me."
"I know. I want to." She turned her head, her cheek pressed against your chest. "No one's ever… I've never cried during sex before. I've never cried at all. Not since the wedding. I thought I'd forgotten how."
"Tears are just your body's way of releasing what you've been holding too long."
She laughed—a small, wet sound. "You sound like a therapist."
"I've had practice."
Silence again. Then, quieter: "Will you stay? Not—not for more sex. Just… stay. Until I fall asleep. I don't want to be alone tonight."
You pressed a kiss to her damp temple. "I'll stay."
Wonyoung sighed. The sound was different from before—not resignation, but relief. The relief of a woman who'd finally let go of something she'd been carrying for years.
"Good," she murmured. "That's good."
She closed her eyes. In the penthouse bedroom, with the city lights glittering below and your cock still half-hard inside her, Jang Wonyoung finally stopped trembling.
You held her until her breathing evened out. Until her body went slack against yours. Until the tears on her cheeks dried to salt and the wetness between her thighs cooled on your skin.
Tomorrow, you'd leave. Tomorrow, she'd go back to being Jang Wonyoung, idol-turned-trophy-wife, and you'd go back to whatever Senior Park had lined up next.
But tonight, she wasn't a photograph. Tonight, she was just a woman who'd remembered how to feel.
And that, you'd learned, was worth more than any paycheck the agency could offer.
Waking came in stages.
First, the soft gray light of early morning pressing against your eyelids. The penthouse windows had no curtains—Wonyoung liked to wake with the sun, you'd learn later—and the Han River was a sheet of hammered silver outside the glass.
Second, the weight. Or rather, the absence of it. Sometime in the night she'd shifted off your chest, and now the mattress beside you was warm but empty.
Third, the sensation.
Wet. Hot. A rhythmic pressure that started at the base of your cock and traveled upward in slow, deliberate pulls. Your hips stirred before your mind caught up—an instinctive response, the body recognizing pleasure before the brain had finished booting up.
You opened your eyes.
Wonyoung was between your legs.
Her dark hair spilled across your thighs in a tangled mess, still sleep-mussed from the night before. The sheet had slipped off her shoulders, leaving her bare—the long sweep of her spine, the curve of her ass, the soles of her feet crossed at the ankle behind her. She'd positioned herself on her stomach, propped on her elbows, and her mouth was wrapped around your cock.
She was still learning. The technique was messier than Karina's had been—more enthusiasm than skill, more eagerness than precision. Her tongue moved in uncertain patterns, tracing the ridge of the head, then the vein underneath, then back again as if she couldn't decide which part she wanted to taste most. Saliva pooled at the corners of her lips and dripped down your shaft, slicking her fingers where they curled around the base.
But what she lacked in experience, she made up for in something else. Something rarer.
She was happy.
You could see it in the way her cheeks bunched—the muscles straining to smile even with her lips stretched wide. In the little hums that vibrated through your shaft every time she took you deeper. In the way her hips wiggled slightly, a tiny dance of satisfaction, like a cat kneading a favorite blanket.
You chuckled. The sound was rough with sleep.
Wonyoung's eyes flicked up to meet yours. They were clearer than they'd been last night—the hollowness replaced by something bright and mischievous. She didn't stop sucking. If anything, she redoubled her efforts, her head bobbing faster, her tongue working the underside of your shaft with renewed determination.
"What a cheeky girl," you murmured.
Your hand found her head. Your fingers threaded through the dark tangles of her hair, not pulling, not directing—just holding. Just letting her feel the weight of your palm against her scalp. Wonyoung's eyes fluttered closed. The hum she made this time was different—softer, more satisfied. A sound of pure contentment.
She pulled back until just the tip remained in her mouth. Her tongue circled the head—once, twice, a slow figure-eight that made your breath catch. Then she pushed forward again, taking you deeper than before, and you felt the head of your cock bump the back of her throat.
She gagged. Coughed. Pulled back with a wet, gasping laugh.
"Too much?" you asked.
"Not enough." Her voice was hoarse—fucked raw from the night before, from the screaming and the crying and now this. "I wanted to… I woke up and you were still here and I just wanted to…"
"To what?"
"To taste you. Before you left." She rested her cheek against your thigh, her breath warm on your damp skin. "Is that weird?"
"No." You stroked her hair. "It's not weird."
"I've never done that before. The morning thing. I've never woken up next to someone and thought… I want to make them feel good. Just because." Her fingers traced idle patterns on your hip. "I've never woken up next to anyone, actually. Seok-joong never stayed the night. Even when we were engaged. He said he couldn't sleep in unfamiliar beds."
"His own bed was unfamiliar?"
Wonyoung's laugh was bitter. "I was the unfamiliar part."
You sat up. The movement dislodged her from your thigh, and she rose with you—sitting back on her heels, her hair a wild curtain around her shoulders, her lips swollen and slick. The morning light caught the angles of her face, the sharp cheekbones and the full mouth, and for a moment she looked exactly like the magazine covers. The nation's sweetheart. The girl who'd debuted at fourteen and never stopped smiling for cameras.
But the smile she gave you now was different. Smaller. Realer. A smile that belonged to her and no one else.
"Come here," you said.
She came. You gathered her in your arms and lifted her—bridal style, her long legs draped over one arm, her head cradled against your shoulder. She was lighter than you'd expected. All those years of dieting for comebacks, probably. All those years of being told she needed to be smaller, thinner, more perfect.
"The shower," you said. "We're both a mess."
"Your fault." But she was grinning as she said it.
"Entirely."
The bathroom was all white marble and chrome fixtures, with a rainfall showerhead even larger than Karina's. You set Wonyoung down on the heated tile floor—her bare feet made a soft sound against the stone—and reached into the glass enclosure to turn on the water. Steam began to fill the room almost immediately.
She stepped into the shower first. You followed.
The water was hot but not scalding, beating down on your shoulders and back in a steady rhythm. Wonyoung tilted her face up into the spray, letting it run over her closed eyelids and down her throat. The mascara she hadn't been wearing was still absent, and without it she looked younger. Not twenty-nine. Not the weary trophy wife from last night. Just a woman in the morning, clean and bare and unguarded.
You reached for the body wash—something floral, jasmine maybe—and worked it into a lather between your palms.
"Turn around," you said.
She did. You started with her shoulders, the same way you had with Karina. The same ritual. The same aftercare. The same reminder that what happened in the bedroom wasn't just about sex—it was about being seen. Being handled. Being treated like a body that mattered.
Wonyoung sighed as your hands moved down her back. "You do this for all your clients?"
"The shower?"
"The… gentleness. The talking. The staying until morning."
"Most of them." You worked the soap into the dip of her spine, the curve of her hips. "The ones who need it."
"And how do you know which ones need it?"
You turned her around to face you. Water sluiced down between you, washing away the suds. Her eyes were level with your collarbone; she had to tilt her head back to meet your gaze.
"Because they're the ones who cry," you said. "And you cried."
Wonyoung's expression flickered—something passing through it too fast to name. Then she reached up and took the body wash from the shelf behind you. Poured some into her own palm. Worked it into a lather.
"Your turn," she said.
Her hands on your chest were tentative at first—the same hesitance from last night, the same uncertainty about what she was allowed to do. But as she grew bolder, her touch firmed. Her palms traced the lines of your pectorals, the ridges of your abdomen, the V of your hips. She was washing you, but she was also learning you. Mapping the geography of a body that wasn't hers.
"You're different from what I expected," she said.
"Different how?"
"I don't know. Less… transactional." She rinsed her hands under the spray. "When I called the agency, I thought it would be like ordering room service. Something mechanical. Something I could pretend didn't happen afterward. But this is…"
"This is?"
She looked up at you. The water had plastered her hair to her skull, darkened it to near-black. Droplets clung to her lashes.
"Real," she said. "This feels real."
You cupped her face in your hands. Your thumbs traced the sharp line of her cheekbones, the soft skin beneath her eyes. She leaned into the touch—pressed her cheek against your palm like a cat seeking warmth.
"It is real," you said. "Whatever happens in this room, whatever you feel—it's real. The pleasure is real. The tears are real. You're not pretending anymore. You're not performing. You're just… here."
"Just here." She tested the words. "I like that. I've never been 'just here' anywhere. There's always been a camera. Or a manager. Or a husband who wanted me to be somewhere else."
"Not here."
"Not here." She rose on her toes. Her lips brushed yours—soft, tentative, a question more than a statement. "Thank you."
"You already thanked me."
"I know. I want to do it again. Properly." She kissed you again, deeper this time. Her lips parted, and her tongue traced the seam of your mouth—asking permission, not demanding it. You opened for her, and she made a small sound, something between a sigh and a hum, as her tongue met yours.
The kiss was different from the ones last night. Last night had been hungry. Desperate. A woman starving for contact and finally given permission to eat. This kiss was slower. Sweeter. A kiss of gratitude rather than need.
Her arms wrapped around your neck. Your hands found her waist. The water beat down on both of you, and the steam rose around you like a curtain, and for a long moment there was nothing in the world but this—the heat and the wet and the soft pressure of her mouth on yours.
When she finally pulled back, her lips were pinker than before. Kiss-swollen. The color had risen in her cheeks.
"I put my number in your phone," she said.
"You what?"
"While you were sleeping. Earlier. Before I…" She gestured vaguely downward, toward the general vicinity of your crotch. "I wanted to make sure you had it. In case you wanted to call. In case you wanted to…"
"To what?"
"To see me again. Not as a client. Not through the agency. Just… me." Her voice had gone smaller. The confidence from moments ago was fading, replaced by the same vulnerability you'd seen last night. "Is that allowed? Is that something you do?"
You considered the question. The agency had rules about this—Senior Park was very clear about keeping things professional, about not blurring the lines between service and relationship. But Senior Park wasn't here. And Wonyoung was looking at you with those too-big eyes, the ones that had been empty last night and were now full of something fragile and hopeful.
"It's allowed," you said. "But I should warn you—I'm not a boyfriend. I'm not going to be. Whatever this is, it's not going to become something else."
"I know." She didn't look disappointed. If anything, she looked relieved. "I don't want a boyfriend. I don't want another man who owns me. I just want… someone who sees me. Someone who touches me like I'm real. Someone who'll answer when I call." A pause. "Will you answer?"
"Every time."
She kissed you again—quick and fierce, a press of lips that was more gratitude than passion. Then she stepped back, out of the spray, and reached for a towel.
"You should go," she said. "Before I ask you to stay again."
The elevator ride down was quiet. No muzak. No mirrored walls. Just brushed steel and the soft hum of hydraulics and the memory of Wonyoung's voice: Please… call me again.
You checked your phone in the lobby. There it was, in your contacts, added sometime in the early morning hours while you were still asleep: Wonyoung ♡. The heart was a nice touch. A little cheeky. A little hopeful.
You smiled despite yourself.
Three days passed.
Senior Park called on a Friday.
"New client," he said, the same way he always did—that particular lilt in his voice that meant he was enjoying himself. "Actress. Very famous. Very married. Although her marriage is…" A pause. "Complicated."
"Complicated how?"
"You'll see. She's been asking for you specifically. Apparently your reputation is spreading."
"Who is it?"
"Moon Ga Young."
The name made you stop walking. You were on the street in Gangnam, the afternoon sun beating down on your neck, and for a moment you just stood there with the phone pressed to your ear.
"Moon Ga Young? The actress?"
"The one and only. Star of True Beauty. The Interest of Love. Half a dozen other dramas I've never watched but my wife loves." The rustle of papers on his end. "She's staying at the Signiel. Suite 2704. Tonight, eight o'clock."
"Wait." You stepped into the shade of a building, out of the flow of pedestrian traffic. "Moon Ga Young is married? I didn't know that."
"Neither did anyone else. She kept it quiet. Very quiet. No press, no announcement, no wedding photos in the tabloids." Park's voice had gone sly. "The husband is some finance executive. American. Works in New York. They've been married for two years, and in those two years, he's been in Seoul for a total of six weeks. You do the math."
Six weeks out of a hundred and four. You did the math.
"Same story," you said.
"Same story, different window. The view from the Signiel is nicer, though. She's booked the suite for the whole weekend. Says she wants to take her time." Another pause. "She also said—and I quote—'Tell him I'm not fragile. Tell him I don't need the gentle version.' End quote."
You raised an eyebrow. "She said that?"
"Word for word. I think you're in for an interesting night."
The line went dead.
The Signiel Seoul occupied the 76th through 101st floors of the Lotte World Tower. It was the kind of hotel where the lobby was on the 79th floor and the elevator ride up made your ears pop. The kind of hotel where the staff wore suits that cost more than your monthly rent and the vases in the hallways were probably worth more than your car.
Suite 2704 was at the end of a quiet corridor. The door was a slab of dark wood with a brass number, and when you knocked, the sound was swallowed by the thick carpet.
"Come in. It's open."
The voice was lower than you'd expected. Smokier. The kind of voice that belonged in a noir film, all shadows and secrets.
You pushed the door open.
The suite was magnificent. Floor-to-ceiling windows looked out over the Seoul skyline, the city lights glittering below like a spill of diamonds. The furniture was modern and understated—a low gray sofa, a glass coffee table, an abstract painting that was probably worth more than everything you owned. The bedroom was visible through an open doorway, the bed enormous and white and untouched.
And there, on the balcony, stood Moon Ga Young.
She was smaller in person than she appeared on screen. The camera had a way of adding presence, of making actors seem larger than life. In reality, she was petite—barely over five feet, with delicate wrists and a narrow frame that made her look almost breakable. Her hair was long and dark, falling past her shoulders in loose waves. Her face was the same one you'd seen in a dozen dramas—the wide eyes, the full lips, the delicate bone structure that made her look younger than her thirty-something years.
But the robe she was wearing was anything but delicate.
It was silk, pale champagne in color, and almost entirely transparent. The fabric clung to her body like a whisper, revealing the outline of her breasts, the curve of her waist, the dark triangle between her thighs. She wore nothing beneath it. The robe was held closed by a single sash, loosely tied, and as she turned to face you, the front gaped open slightly—just enough to confirm that yes, she was completely naked under there.
In one hand, she held a flute of champagne. The liquid was pale gold, the bubbles rising in lazy spirals.
"You're punctual," she said. "I like that."
"Senior Park said you didn't want the gentle version."
"Did he?" A smile played at the corner of her mouth. "I said I didn't need it. There's a difference." She raised the champagne flute to her lips and took a sip. Her eyes never left yours. "Would you like a drink? There's a bottle on the minibar. It's not cheap—I made sure of that."
"I'm working."
"So am I. Or at least, I'm about to be." The smile widened. "One drink won't hurt. Consider it part of the negotiation."
You crossed to the minibar. The champagne was vintage, the label one you recognized from a previous client's penthouse. You poured yourself a glass—not because you wanted it, but because refusing would mean ceding the rhythm of the encounter to her. And Ga Young, you were already beginning to understand, was someone who was used to setting the rhythm.
She joined you at the sofa. The robe gaped further as she sat, revealing the pale curve of one breast. She didn't bother to adjust it.
"So," she said, settling back against the cushions. "You're the man who made Karina cry."
You paused with the glass halfway to your lips. "She told you?"
"She told someone, who told someone, who told me. The idol world is small. Smaller than you'd think." Ga Young swirled her champagne. "The rumor is that you were… thorough. That you gave her exactly what she needed. That you didn't treat her like glass."
"I don't treat anyone like glass."
"No. I don't imagine you do." She leaned forward, setting her glass on the coffee table. The movement made the robe fall open completely, exposing the full length of her body. She didn't seem to notice. Or if she noticed, she didn't care. "Here's the thing. I've been married for two years. In those two years, I've had sex exactly four times. All of them on our wedding night. After that, my husband decided he preferred New York to Seoul. He calls me once a week, usually from his office, usually while he's doing something else. Reading emails. Checking stocks. He's never once asked me how I'm feeling."
"Does he know you're here?"
"He knows I'm at a hotel. He doesn't know why." Ga Young's smile was sharp. "He probably thinks I'm having a spa weekend. That's what he'd do, if he thought about it at all. 'Ga Young's having a spa weekend. How nice for her.'" The mimicry was cruel and precise. "He doesn't know me well enough to suspect anything else."
"And what are you looking for tonight?"
She leaned back. The robe fell open completely now, pooling on the cushions around her. She was leaner than Karina, leaner than Wonyoung—the body of a woman who'd spent years in front of cameras, who'd been told she needed to be thinner, always thinner. Her breasts were small, the nipples a pale pink. Her stomach was flat. The hair between her thighs was dark and neatly trimmed.
"I'm not looking for therapy," she said. "I'm not looking for someone to hold me while I cry. I'm not looking for validation or reassurance or any of the things your other clients probably need." She uncrossed her legs and crossed them again. The movement was deliberate. Performative. "I'm looking for a good fuck. That's it. That's all. I want to be fucked so hard I forget my own name. I want to walk bowlegged tomorrow. I want to feel like a woman instead of a mannequin. Can you do that?"
You set your champagne glass down next to hers. "Safeword?"
"Red."
"Tap-out?"
"Three taps. Anywhere." She cocked her head. "You're very professional. I like that too."
"Part of the service."
"Then let's get started." She stood up. The robe stayed on the sofa, a champagne-colored puddle of silk. "The bedroom's through there. I want you to use every inch of that bed. I want you to use every inch of me. And I want you to stop treating me like I'm going to break." She walked toward the bedroom, her bare feet silent on the thick carpet. At the doorway, she paused and looked back over her shoulder. "I'm not going to break. I promise."
The bedroom was all windows on one side, the city lights spread out below like a circuit board. The bed was king-sized, the sheets white, the pillows arranged in a perfect geometric pattern. Ga Young climbed onto the mattress and positioned herself in the center—on her back, her arms above her head, her legs slightly apart. The pose was deliberate. A parody of submission. The same way she'd done everything so far—with a wink, with a smirk, with the implicit understanding that she was playing a role.
"The last time I had sex," she said, "was my wedding night. He was drunk. I was nervous. It lasted maybe six minutes. He fell asleep immediately afterward, and when I woke up the next morning, he was already on a plane to New York." She looked at the ceiling. "I didn't have an orgasm. I've never had an orgasm with another person. Not once. I'm thirty-four years old, and I've been faking it since I was twenty."
You unbuttoned your shirt. "You don't have to fake anything tonight."
"I know. That's why you're here." She watched you undress with open appraisal, her eyes tracking the movement of your hands. "I've done my research. I know about the agency. I know about Senior Park. I know about the other women you've been with. The idols. The heiresses. The wives. I know you're discreet. I know you're skilled. I know you're exactly what I need."
"Which is?"
She met your eyes. The smirk was gone. For the first time since you'd walked through the door, her expression was completely serious.
"Someone who isn't afraid of me," she said. "Everyone's afraid of me. My husband's afraid of me. My managers are afraid of me. The directors I work with are afraid of me. I'm Moon Ga Young. I'm the nation's sweetheart. I'm the girl next door who's been in a dozen dramas and never had a scandal." Her voice was flat. "People think I'm delicate. They think I'm fragile. They think I need to be protected. No one's ever looked at me and thought—she wants to be destroyed."
"Do you?"
"Yes." The word was barely a whisper. "God, yes. I want to be destroyed. I want to be ruined. I want someone to look at me and see what I really am, not what the cameras see. Not what my husband sees. Not what the public sees." She swallowed. "I want to feel something real. Even if it's pain. Even if it's rough. Especially if it's rough."
You finished undressing. Your clothes made a pile on the floor—shirt, pants, boxers. Your cock was already half-hard, responding to the challenge in her voice, the directness of her gaze. Ga Young looked at you and didn't flinch.
"Good," she said. "Now come here. I've been waiting two years for this. I'm not waiting any longer."
Moon Ga Young watched you undress with the eyes of a woman who'd spent two decades being looked at and had finally decided to do some looking of her own.
"On your knees."
The command landed in the space between you. Her lips curved—not quite a smile, more a recognition. This was what she'd asked for. This was what she'd been waiting two years to receive.
She slid off the bed. The movement was liquid, all those years of dance training and red carpet practice translating into something that looked effortless. Her knees met the carpet with a soft thud. The city lights through the window painted her bare skin in shades of amber and gold.
"Hands behind your back."
She complied. The position made her small breasts lift, the nipples still pale pink and tight. Her eyes stayed on yours. Defiant. Hungry. The smirk was still there, but it had thinned—become something sharper, more expectant.
You picked up the champagne-colored robe from where it had fallen on the sofa. The silk was cool and slippery in your hands. You pulled the sash free with one sharp tug, and the fabric whispered against itself as it came loose.
"Wrists."
Ga Young's smirk flickered. "You're going to tie me up?"
"I'm going to do a lot of things." You crouched behind her, looping the silk around her wrists. Not too tight—you knew the difference between restraint and injury—but snug enough that she'd feel the pull every time she moved. "You said you wanted to be destroyed. Destruction requires surrender. You can't be in control and be ruined at the same time."
"I know." Her voice was quieter now. The bravado was still there, but something else was bleeding through. Something that sounded almost like relief. "I know. That's the point."
You tied the knot. Tested it with two fingers. "Too tight?"
"No."
"Good."
You stood and walked around to face her. From this angle, with her wrists bound behind her back and her knees pressed into the carpet, she looked smaller than before. More vulnerable. The nation's sweetheart, stripped of her armor, kneeling naked in a hotel suite with her pulse visible in her throat.
"Open your mouth."
Ga Young's lips parted. Her tongue was pink, wet, waiting. You took hold of your cock—fully hard now, thick and veined, the head already slick with the first bead of precum—and guided it toward her waiting mouth.
"Wider."
She stretched her jaw. The corners of her lips went taut. You pressed the head against her tongue, and she made a sound—something between a hum and a whimper—as the taste of you filled her mouth.
"Good girl. Now take it. All of it."
You pushed forward.
The first few inches slid in easily. Her tongue moved beneath your shaft—uncertain at first, then finding its rhythm, tracing the ridge of the head, the sensitive spot just beneath. Her cheeks hollowed as she sucked. The suction was strong, practiced, the muscle memory of a woman who'd done this before even if it had been years.
Then you pushed deeper.
The head of your cock hit the back of her throat, and Ga Young gagged. The sound was wet and sudden—a choked, spluttering cough that made her whole body convulse. Her bound wrists strained against the silk. Her eyes watered. A thick string of saliva dripped from the corner of her mouth and landed on her chest.
"Don't fight it. Relax your throat."
She tried. You could feel her trying—the way her muscles fluttered around your shaft, the way she forced herself to breathe through her nose. But the gag reflex was strong, and when you pushed another inch deeper, she convulsed again.
"Fuck—" The word came out muffled, garbled around your cock.
You pulled back. Let her gasp. A bridge of saliva connected your shaft to her bottom lip, stretching, then breaking.
"I can't—" She coughed again. "I can't take it all. It's too thick—"
"You can." You grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled her head back. Her throat was exposed now—a long, pale column, the skin delicate and unmarked. "You said you wanted to be ruined. Ruined means taking cock down your throat until you can't breathe. Ruined means gagging and choking and still pushing deeper. Do you understand?"
Ga Young's eyes met yours. They were wet now, the first tears clinging to her lashes. But behind them, something was blazing. Something that looked almost like joy.
"Yes."
"Then open your mouth."
She did. You pushed inside again, and this time you didn't stop. Your cock slid past her tongue, past the soft palate, into the tight grip of her throat. Ga Young's whole body seized. A guttural, choking sound vibrated through your shaft. Her bound hands clawed at the air behind her back. Her throat muscles clamped down around you—spasming, fighting, then slowly, gradually, yielding.
"There you go. Take it. Take all of it."
Your hips met her face. Your cock was buried to the hilt in her throat, and Ga Young's nose was pressed against your pubic bone. She couldn't breathe. Couldn't speak. Could only gag and choke and let the tears stream down her cheeks while you held her there, impaled on your length.
You held the position for a count of five. Then ten. Her face was turning red. Her body was writhing—not fighting, not trying to escape, but writhing with the sheer overwhelming sensation of being so completely filled.
You pulled back.
Ga Young gasped. The inhale was ragged and desperate, followed by a coughing fit that made her whole body shake. Saliva dripped from her chin. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her cheeks blotchy, her carefully arranged hair a tangled mess.
"More," she rasped. "Give me more."
You slapped her.
The crack of your palm against her cheek echoed through the suite. Ga Young's head snapped to the side. A red mark bloomed on her pale skin—the shape of your hand, stark and undeniable.
"Did I tell you to speak?"
She shook her head. The defiance was still there, but it was muted now—submerged beneath something deeper. Something that looked almost like peace.
"Then don't speak. Your mouth has one purpose right now. Do you understand?"
She nodded. Her cheek was still red. The tears had multiplied, tracking mascara-less lines down her face.
"Good. Now show me you understand."
She opened her mouth. Leaned forward. Took your cock between her lips with a hunger that bordered on worship. This time, when you pushed into her throat, she didn't gag. She swallowed around you—a deliberate, rhythmic clenching that traveled from her throat to the base of your shaft. The sensation was electric. Your vision swam.
"That's it. That's my good little throat-whore."
She moaned. The vibration traveled through her throat and into your cock, and the pleasure was so intense that your hips bucked involuntarily. You grabbed her head with both hands—fingers tangled in her hair, thumbs pressed against her temples—and began to fuck her face in earnest.
The rhythm was brutal. Deep, driving strokes that bottomed out against the back of her throat with every thrust. The wet sounds were obscene—squelching, choking, gagging, the slap of your balls against her chin. Ga Young's bound hands clenched and unclenched behind her back. Her body swayed with the force of your thrusts. Her eyes were squeezed shut, tears streaming freely, but she never pulled away. Never tapped out. Never gave any signal that she wanted this to stop.
"You love this. You love being used like a toy. Tell me you love it."
She couldn't speak—not with your cock buried in her throat—but she moaned again. The sound was desperate. Affirmative. Broken.
"Then take it. Take every inch. I'm going to come down your throat, and you're going to swallow every drop. Do you understand?"
Another moan. Higher-pitched. Almost frantic.
You fucked her throat faster. The tension was building—a coiling pressure at the base of your spine that spread outward, downward, gathering force with every stroke. Ga Young's throat muscles were fluttering around you now, spasming in rhythm with her muffled moans. Her body was trembling. Her bound hands had gone limp behind her back, all the fight drained out of her.
"I'm close—fuck, I'm close—"
You slammed into her throat one last time and held there. Buried to the hilt. Her nose crushed against your pelvis. Her throat working desperately around your shaft, trying to swallow, trying to breathe, trying to do everything at once.
The orgasm hit you like a freight train.
The first pulse of cum shot directly down her throat—thick, hot, copious. You felt her swallow reflexively, the muscles of her esophagus contracting around your shaft. The second pulse followed immediately, and the third, and the fourth, each one painting her throat white with your seed. You kept your grip on her head, holding her in place, making sure she couldn't pull away until every last drop was drained.
"Swallow. All of it."
She did. You felt her throat constrict again and again, gulping down your cum with an eagerness that bordered on desperation. When you finally pulled back, a thick string of saliva and semen connected your cock to her bottom lip. Ga Young's mouth hung open. Her tongue was coated white. Her eyes were glassy and unfocused, staring at something only she could see.
She swallowed once more. Licked her lips. The taste of you was still on her tongue, and she savored it—closing her eyes, letting out a small, satisfied hum.
"Thank you," she whispered.
The words were hoarse. Fucked-raw. Barely audible. But the gratitude in them was real.
"We're not done."
Ga Young's eyes opened. The smirk was back—smaller now, more fragile, but still there. "I know."
You untied her wrists. The silk sash left faint red marks on her skin—nothing that would bruise, nothing that would last, but enough to remind her tomorrow of what had happened tonight. She rubbed her wrists absently. Then she looked up at you, and the question in her eyes was clear: What now?
"Against the wall."
She rose. Her legs were unsteady—the long minutes of kneeling had left her knees red, her thighs trembling. She crossed to the floor-to-ceiling window and pressed her palms against the glass. The city lights glittered below, indifferent to the scene unfolding above them. Her reflection stared back at her—naked, disheveled, marked.
"Spread your legs."
She did. The position opened her completely—the long line of her spine, the curve of her ass, the dark cleft between her cheeks. Her cunt was visible from this angle, the lips swollen and glistening. She was wet. Had been wet since the moment you'd pushed into her throat, probably. Maybe since the moment you'd walked through the door.
You stepped behind her. Your left hand found her throat—not squeezing, not yet, just resting there, a reminder of who was in control. Your right hand slid down her back, over the curve of her ass, between her cheeks. You spread her open, exposing the tight pink knot of her asshole, the darker, wetter flesh of her cunt below.
"Look at you. Moon Ga Young. The nation's sweetheart. Bent over against a hotel window with her cunt dripping and her throat full of cum. What would your fans think?"
"I don't care." Her voice was raw, almost defiant. "I don't care what they think. I don't care what anyone thinks. Just fuck me. Please. Fuck me like you mean it."
You tightened your grip on her throat. Not enough to cut off air—just enough to make her feel the pressure. Just enough to remind her that you could.
"Beg."
"Please." The word came out strangled. "Please fuck me. I've been waiting two years. Two years of empty beds and empty phone calls and pretending I'm fine when I'm dying inside. Please. I need this. I need you. I need your cock inside me. I need to feel something real. Please—"
You thrust into her cunt in one brutal motion.
Ga Young screamed.
The sound was raw and animal—nothing like the polished, controlled voice she used in interviews. This was a scream torn from somewhere deep inside her, a scream that had been building for two years and finally found its release. Her cunt was tight—tighter than you'd expected, the walls clenching around your shaft with a force that made your breath catch. She was soaked, though, and the slick heat of her made the brutal entry possible.
"Oh fuck—oh fuck—you're so deep—"
You didn't give her time to adjust. You pulled back and slammed forward again, harder than before. The impact made her palms squeak against the glass. Her breasts pressed against the window, leaving smears of sweat on the pristine surface. Your left hand stayed on her throat, your right hand gripping her hip, and you fucked her with a rhythm that was punishing.
"This is what you wanted. This is what you begged for. To be fucked like an animal. To be used like a toy. To be ruined."
"Yes—yes—harder—"
You gave her harder. The wet sounds of her cunt filled the suite—squelching, slapping, the rhythmic thud of your hips meeting her ass. You could see her reflection in the window—her mouth open, her eyes half-closed, her cheeks flushed and tear-streaked. The idol image was gone. Completely obliterated. What was left was just a woman, raw and desperate, taking cock like she'd been starving for it.
You tightened your grip on her throat. Squeezed. Not enough to cut off her air entirely, but enough to make her lightheaded. Enough to make the edges of her vision go dark. Ga Young's eyes rolled back. Her mouth opened wider. A strangled sound escaped her—half moan, half gasp.
"That's it. Feel that? Feel how deep I am? Feel how full you are? This is what you needed. Not the fame. Not the money. Not the perfect husband who never touches you. This. Just this. Just a cock in your cunt and someone who knows how to use it."
"YES—YES—THIS IS—"
You released her throat. She gasped—a huge, ragged inhale that made her whole body shudder. Then you grabbed her hips with both hands and fucked her even harder. The pace was brutal now—piston-like, relentless, each thrust driving her against the window with a force that made the glass vibrate. Her ass rippled with every impact. Her breasts bounced. Her reflection stared back at her with wild eyes and a slack mouth, and she looked at herself like she didn't recognize what she was seeing.
"Look at yourself. Look at what you've become. You're not an actress right now. You're not a wife. You're just a wet hole. A set of holes. A body that exists to be fucked. Do you see her?"
"I see her—" Ga Young's voice was broken, sobbing. "I see her—I see myself—"
"And what do you see?"
"A whore." The word came out on a sob. "A desperate, dripping whore who's been neglected for two years and finally has a cock inside her. I see a whore. I see a whore. I see—"
You felt her cunt seize around you. The orgasm was sudden and violent—a convulsive, full-body spasm that made her back arch and her legs give out. You caught her before she collapsed, pinning her against the window with your body, and kept fucking her through it. The clenching of her walls was rhythmic, almost painful in its intensity, milking your shaft from base to tip.
"That's it—that's it—come on my cock—come while you're watching yourself—"
"I'm coming—I'm coming—oh god, I'm—"
She squirted. The fluid gushed around your cock, soaking your thighs, splashing against the window, dripping down the glass in long, obscene rivulets. Ga Young's scream was wordless, primal, a sound that seemed to come from somewhere deeper than her throat. Her body convulsed in your arms. Her cunt pulsed and fluttered around your shaft, and the sensation was so intense that you felt your own orgasm building—a tightening pressure at the base of your spine.
But you weren't done.
You pulled out of her. Ga Young whimpered at the emptiness. Her cunt gaped for a moment, then clenched around nothing, gushing another pulse of fluid onto the carpet. You turned her around—roughly, hands on her shoulders, spinning her like a doll—and pushed her back against the window. Her shoulder blades hit the glass. Her eyes were wild, unfocused, still hazy from the orgasm.
"Hold onto me."
Her arms wrapped around your neck. Her legs wrapped around your waist. You gripped her thighs and lifted her, positioning her cunt above your cock, and thrust inside her in one smooth motion.
Ga Young's head fell back against the glass. "Oh ffffuuuuck—"
"You wanted to be ruined. I'm not finished ruining you."
You fucked her against the window. The position was different—deeper, somehow, the angle letting you hit spots inside her that you hadn't reached before. Ga Young's moans were continuous now, a stream of broken syllables and guttural sounds that didn't belong to any language. Her nails dug into your shoulders. Her heels pressed into the small of your back. Her cunt was a mess—slick and swollen and pulsing, still gushing intermittently with the aftershocks of her orgasm.
"Harder—please—harder—"
You slammed into her. The window rattled. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you registered that there were probably people in the building across the street, people with binoculars, people who might be watching. Let them watch. Let them see what Moon Ga Young looked like when she was being fucked properly. Let them see the nation's sweetheart with her legs wrapped around a stranger, her cunt dripping down his thighs, her mouth open in a scream that had no end.
"Look at me."
She forced her eyes to focus. They were glassy, tear-filled, but they met yours.
"You're going to come again. You're going to come on this cock while I'm choking you. And you're going to watch yourself in the reflection while you do it. Do you understand?"
"Yes—yes—"
Your left hand found her throat again. Squeezed. Harder this time. Ga Young's face began to flush. Her lips parted. Her eyes rolled back. But she didn't tap out. Didn't signal. Didn't do anything except moan—a thin, wheezing sound that vibrated against your palm.
"That's it. Let go. Let yourself fall."
You fucked her harder. The rhythm was punishing—deep, driving strokes that bottomed out against her cervix with every thrust. Your right hand found her clit, the swollen bundle of nerves slick and hard under your fingertip. You pressed down. Circled. Ga Young's body convulsed.
Her orgasm hit like an explosion.
This one was different from the first—quieter, deeper, more devastating. Her cunt clamped down on your cock with a force that almost hurt. Her whole body went rigid, every muscle locked, every breath held. Then the release came, and it came with a flood. Her cunt gushed around your shaft—not just wetness this time, but a clear, copious fluid that sprayed against your thighs and soaked the carpet beneath you.
"Fuuuuuuuck—"
Her voice broke on the word. Her body went limp. Completely limp. She collapsed against you, her head falling onto your shoulder, her arms sliding from your neck. Her cunt was still pulsing weakly around your cock—little flutters of sensation that traveled up your shaft.
You released her throat. She gasped—a huge, ragged inhale—and then she started to laugh.
It wasn't a happy laugh. It wasn't bitter, either. It was the laugh of a woman who'd been holding something inside for years and had finally, finally let it out. The laugh turned into sobs, and the sobs turned into silence, and through all of it you held her against the window, your cock still buried inside her, your hands gentle on her back.
She kept saying it. Over and over. Like a prayer. Like a confession. Like the only words she had left.
You carried her to the bed. Laid her down on the white sheets. Her body was marked—red impressions of your fingers on her throat, faint bruises already forming on her hips, her cunt swollen and gaping and still leaking onto the mattress. She looked up at you with eyes that were clearer than they'd been all night.
"Stay," she said. "Please. Just until I fall asleep."
You climbed into the bed beside her. Pulled the sheets over both of you. Ga Young curled against your chest, her face pressed into the hollow of your throat, her breath warm on your skin.
"I haven't felt this alive in years," she murmured. "I haven't felt anything in years."
"Feel it now."
She did. Her breathing slowed. Her body relaxed. The tension that had been coiled in her muscles since the moment you'd walked through the door finally, fully released.
Outside the window, the city glittered on, indifferent and eternal. Inside the suite, Moon Ga Young closed her eyes, and for the first time in two years, she slept without dreaming of being somewhere else.
The morning light through the Signiel's floor-to-ceiling windows was the color of honey. It pooled on the white sheets, caught the edge of the champagne flute still sitting on the coffee table, painted Ga Young's bare shoulder in shades of gold.
She was still asleep.
Her breathing was slow and even, her face half-buried in the pillow, her dark hair fanned across the cotton like spilled ink. The marks from last night were already fading—the faint impressions on her throat, the bruises on her hips. In sleep, she looked younger. Softer. The sharp, sardonic edge that had defined her when you'd walked through the door had melted away, replaced by something unguarded.
You slid out of bed carefully. The sheets whispered against your skin. Ga Young stirred but didn't wake—just shifted, her hand reaching out to the empty space where you'd been, her fingers curling around nothing.
You dressed in silence. Shirt. Pants. Belt. The routine was automatic, muscle memory from a dozen similar mornings. The suite was quiet except for the distant hum of the HVAC system and the soft shush of traffic eighty floors below. Your shoes were by the sofa where you'd kicked them off. You bent to pick them up.
"Where are you going?"
The voice was sleep-roughened but still unmistakably hers—that smoky, noir-film cadence that made everything sound like a secret. You turned.
Ga Young was sitting up in bed. The sheet had fallen to her waist. Her hair was a tangled mess, her eyes still puffy from sleep and last night's tears. She looked nothing like the polished actress from the dramas. She looked like a woman who'd been thoroughly fucked and had slept better than she had in years.
"Home," you said. "You were asleep. I didn't want to wake you."
She laughed. The sound was low and warm and entirely unselfconscious. "Nuh uh." She swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood, crossing the room toward you with the sheet still trailing behind her like a train. "I'm still your client. The weekend, remember? You're not going anywhere."
She reached you and wrapped her arms around your waist from behind. Her cheek pressed against your spine. Her bare breasts flattened against your back, and the warmth of her body seeped through your shirt. She smelled like sex and sleep and the faint floral remnants of whatever expensive soap the Signiel stocked in its bathrooms.
"Ga Young—"
"Shh." Her arms tightened. "You're not leaving. Not yet. Not until I say so."
The suite door clicked open.
You heard it before you saw it—the soft sound of the electronic lock disengaging, followed by the whoosh of the door swinging on its hinges. Two voices drifted in from the hallway, mid-laugh, the kind of easy, familiar laughter that came from years of friendship.
"—and then he said, 'That's not a prop, that's my actual—'" The voice cut off.
Karina stood in the doorway.
Wonyoung was right behind her.
They were both carrying shopping bags—the discreet, expensive kind that came from boutiques in Cheongdam-dong, the logos embossed in subtle gold foil. They were both wearing black outerwear—Karina in a long trench coat, Wonyoung in a cropped leather jacket—and they were both staring at you with expressions that shifted from surprise to recognition to something else entirely.
Something hungrier.
"Unnie!" Ga Young's voice was delighted. She released you and stepped around, completely unbothered by her nudity, the sheet slipping from her shoulders and pooling on the floor. "You're early. I thought you weren't coming until noon."
Karina's eyes flicked from you to Ga Young and back again. A slow smile spread across her face. "We wanted to surprise you." She stepped into the suite, and Wonyoung followed, closing the door behind her. "But it looks like you're the one with the surprise."
"Wait." You looked at Ga Young. Then at Karina. Then at Wonyoung. "You three know each other?"
"We're best friends." Wonyoung's voice was light, almost teasing. She set her shopping bag down on the console table by the door. "We've been best friends for years. Since trainee days. Did you really think it was a coincidence that we all ended up calling the same agency?"
"We talk," Karina said. She was still smiling, but there was something sharper beneath it—a blade hidden in silk. "We talk about everything. The husbands. The loneliness. The emptiness." She paused. "The men we hire to make us feel alive again."
Ga Young had retrieved her robe from the floor—the champagne-colored silk, still wrinkled from last night—and was tying it loosely around her waist. "When I heard that Karina unnie had found someone who actually made her come, I had to see for myself. And then Wonyoungie called me the next morning, practically glowing, and I knew." She turned to you, her eyes bright. "I knew I had to book you. And I knew I had to make it a weekend."
"A weekend?"
"Senior Park didn't tell you?" Karina's trench coat was already unbelted. She shrugged it off her shoulders, and it slid to the floor in a whisper of black fabric. Beneath it, she was wearing lingerie—not the practical black lace from your first encounter, but something deliberately chosen. A deep burgundy set, the color of aged wine, the bra cupping her breasts in a way that made them look fuller, the panties high-cut and sheer. "This booking is for all three of us. The whole weekend. Friday to Sunday."
Wonyoung was unzipping her leather jacket. Her movements were slower than Karina's, more deliberate, but no less confident. The jacket came off, and beneath it was a pale lavender set—the color soft against her skin, the fabric delicate, almost bridal. The contrast between the innocent lingerie and the knowing look in her eyes was intentional. You could see it in the way she tilted her head, the way she watched you watching her.
"Three clients," she said. "Three women who need to be reminded what it feels like to be touched." She stepped closer. "Three women who've been talking about you for weeks."
On the coffee table, you noticed for the first time a folded piece of paper. It was propped against the champagne bottle, your name written on the front in Senior Park's precise, old-fashioned handwriting. You crossed to it and picked it up.
Your client for this weekend is the three of them. They've been planning this for a month. Don't disappoint them. — SP
You swallowed.
The sound was audible in the quiet suite. Ga Young heard it and laughed—that same low, warm laugh from before. "Nervous? The man who made me come twice against a window is nervous?"
"Not nervous." You folded the note and tucked it into your pocket. "Just… recalibrating."
"Recalibrate faster." Karina had crossed the room to stand beside Ga Young. The two of them together were a study in contrasts—Karina's burgundy against Ga Young's champagne, the idol's sharp, aggressive beauty against the actress's delicate, knowing allure. "We've been waiting a long time for this. All three of us. We've been planning it ever since Wonyoungie called me the morning after your session."
"I didn't just call her." Wonyoung had moved to your other side, bracketing you between the three of them. Her lavender lingerie made her skin look luminous, the pale tea-colored nipples visible through the sheer fabric. "I told her everything. Everything you did. Everything you said. Every way you made me feel." Her voice dropped, became something softer, more intimate. "And she told me what you did with her. And then Ga Young unnie said she wanted to find out for herself, and we decided—why not all three of us? Why not a weekend?"
"Because none of us has ever had this." Ga Young's hand found your shoulder. Her fingers traced the line of your collarbone through your shirt. "None of us has ever had a man who knew what he was doing. Who cared about making us feel good. Who looked at us like we were women instead of objects." She paused. "We wanted to share you. Just for a weekend. Just to remember what it feels like."
"To be alive," Karina said.
"To be wanted," Wonyoung added.
"To be fucked properly," Ga Young finished.
The three of them were close now. Close enough that you could smell them—Karina's perfume, something floral and expensive; Wonyoung's shampoo, jasmine and vanilla; Ga Young's skin, still warm from sleep, still carrying the faint musk of last night's sex. They were looking at you with the same expression. The same hunger. The same desperate, aching need that you'd seen in each of them individually but never all at once.
"Take off your shirt," Karina said.
The command was soft but firm. The same voice she'd used when she'd first welcomed you to her mansion, but stripped of the nervousness now. This was a woman who'd spent three weeks waiting for this moment. This was a woman who knew exactly what she wanted.
You unbuttoned your shirt. Slowly. Deliberately. The three of them watched every movement—the slide of each button through its hole, the parting of the fabric, the reveal of your chest. When you shrugged the shirt off your shoulders, Wonyoung made a small sound—a quiet, involuntary hum of appreciation.
"His body is different in the daylight," she murmured. "I couldn't see it properly last time. It was dark. I was…" She swallowed. "I was distracted."
"You were crying," Ga Young said. Not unkindly. Just matter-of-fact. "You told me you cried."
"I did. I cried a lot." Wonyoung's eyes met yours. "But I also came. Twice. The first real orgasms of my life."
"Mine too." Karina's voice was quieter now. "The first real ones. The only real ones."
Ga Young's hand slid from your shoulder to your chest. Her palm was warm against your skin. "And I came twice last night. The first time I've ever come with a partner. The first time I've ever come without faking it." Her fingers traced the line of your pectoral, down to your abdomen. "So you see, we have a lot to thank you for. And a lot more we want to experience."
"Together," Karina said.
"Together," Wonyoung echoed.
The word hung in the air between you. Together. Three women who'd spent years being neglected, being ignored, being treated like accessories to their husbands' careers. Three women who'd found each other in the loneliness and decided to do something about it. Three women who were looking at you now with the same expression—expectant, hungry, alive.
"Are you going to be able to handle all three of us?" Ga Young's voice was teasing, but there was a genuine question beneath the playfulness. "We're not going to be gentle with you. We've been planning this for a month. We have… ideas."
"Three days," Karina said. "Three women. One man." She stepped closer, close enough that her breasts—still encased in that burgundy lace—brushed against your arm. "Think you can keep up?"
"Senior Park seemed to think so." You looked at the note still folded in your pocket. "He wouldn't have booked me if he didn't."
"Senior Park is a smart man." Wonyoung had moved behind you. Her hands found your shoulders, her fingers pressing into the muscle, kneading gently. "He told us you were the best. He told us you could handle anything. He told us you wouldn't break."
"I won't break."
"Good." Ga Young's hand was still on your chest, her thumb tracing idle circles over your sternum. "Because we're not going to break you. We're going to use you. All three of us. However we want. Whenever we want. For the whole weekend." She looked up at you, and her eyes were dark and serious despite the smile playing at the corner of her lips. "Is that understood?"
"Understood."
"Good boy." She patted your chest and stepped back. "Then let's get started. The bedroom's big enough for all four of us. I checked."
She turned and walked toward the bedroom, the champagne robe trailing behind her like a whisper. Karina followed, her hips swaying with that dancer's grace she'd never lost despite years away from the stage. Wonyoung released your shoulders and moved around you, her lavender lingerie pale against the gray walls of the suite, and when she reached the bedroom doorway, she looked back over her shoulder.
"Are you coming?"
The question was simple. The answer was simpler.
You followed them into the bedroom.
The bed was still rumpled from the night before—the sheets twisted, the pillows scattered, the faint impressions of Ga Young's body still visible on the mattress. The morning light was stronger here, flooding through the windows, making everything look clean and bright and new. The three women arranged themselves on the bed with the ease of long practice—Ga Young in the center, propped against the headboard; Karina on her left, sitting cross-legged with her burgundy lingerie stark against the white sheets; Wonyoung on her right, her long legs stretched out in front of her, her lavender set a soft contrast to the sharper colors around her.
They looked at you. Waiting.
"Clothes off," Ga Young said. "All of them. We want to see what we're working with."
You unbuckled your belt. The sound was loud in the quiet room. Three pairs of eyes tracked the movement of your hands—the slide of leather through the buckle, the pop of the button, the hiss of the zipper. Your pants fell to the floor. Your boxers followed.
Your cock was already half-hard. Responding to the attention, the anticipation, the sheer overwhelming presence of three beautiful women watching you undress. Ga Young's eyes flicked down, then up again. The corner of her mouth twitched.
"He's bigger than I remembered," Karina murmured.
"He's thicker than I remembered," Wonyoung added.
"And he knows how to use it." Ga Young's voice was satisfied. "He used it in my throat last night. And in my cunt. And against the window." She gestured at the glass, still faintly smeared from where her body had pressed against it. "I left a mark."
"So did I." Wonyoung's voice was soft, almost wistful. "At my penthouse. On the sheets. I haven't washed them yet. I keep thinking I should, but I can't bring myself to do it."
"I know what you mean." Karina's eyes met yours. "I still have the sheets from my first time with him. They're in the back of my closet. Joon-ho never goes in there. He never goes anywhere in that house except his study and his bedroom." She paused. "He has his own bedroom. We've always had separate bedrooms. He said it was better for his sleep."
"Seok-joong has his own apartment." Wonyoung's voice was flat. "He lives there with his current girlfriend. A trainee. She's nineteen."
"My husband has his own continent." Ga Young's laugh was bitter. "He's been to Seoul for six weeks in two years. Six weeks. He's probably slept with half of Manhattan in that time."
The three of them were quiet for a moment. The morning light poured through the windows, and the city glittered below, and the three women on the bed were looking at each other with an expression that was part grief and part fury and part something else—something that looked almost like hope.
Then Ga Young shook her head. "No. No more talking about husbands. That's not what this weekend is for." She looked at you, and the fire was back in her eyes. "This weekend is for us. For pleasure. For release. For everything we've been denied." She patted the mattress beside her. "Come here. It's time to earn your paycheck."
You climbed onto the bed.
The mattress dipped beneath your weight. The three women shifted to accommodate you—Ga Young making room in the center, Karina and Wonyoung flanking her on either side. You ended up face-to-face with Ga Young, close enough to see the faint lines around her eyes, the small scar on her chin from some childhood accident, the way her pupils were already dilating with anticipation.
"Kiss me," she said. "Kiss me, and then kiss them. We've been waiting. We've all been waiting."
You kissed her.
It was different from last night's kisses. Last night had been about dominance—the rough press of lips, the battle for control, the assertion of power. This kiss was slower. More deliberate. A kiss of greeting rather than conquest. Ga Young's lips parted beneath yours, and her tongue met yours with a soft, exploratory touch. She tasted like sleep and champagne and something indefinably her.
When you pulled back, she was smiling. "Now Karina."
You turned. Karina was watching you with dark eyes, her burgundy lingerie stretched tight across her breasts, her breathing already uneven. She didn't wait for you to lean in. She closed the distance herself, her hands coming up to frame your face, her kiss hungry and urgent and full of three weeks of waiting.
"It's been too long," she whispered against your mouth. "Three weeks. Three weeks of thinking about you. Three weeks of touching myself and pretending it was your hands."
"And now?"
"Now I don't have to pretend." She kissed you again—quick and fierce—then pulled back. "Wonyoung's turn."
Wonyoung was the shyest of the three. She'd been hesitant last night, tentative in the penthouse, uncertain about what she was allowed to do. But now she leaned in with more confidence, her lips brushing yours with a gentleness that was almost teasing. Her hand found your chest, her palm flat against your sternum, feeling your heartbeat.
"I've been thinking about you too," she murmured. "Every night. Every morning. I've been thinking about what you did to me. What you made me feel." She kissed you again—longer this time, deeper. "I want to feel it again. All of it. Everything."
"You will."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
She smiled. The expression transformed her face—made her look younger, lighter, more like the idol she'd been before the marriage and the neglect and the loneliness. "Good. Then let's get started. Ga Young unnie's been waiting the longest. She should get the first turn."
"Agreed." Karina was already shifting on the bed, repositioning herself to give Ga Young more room. "We've got three days. We can take our time."
"Three days," Ga Young echoed. She was lying back against the pillows now, her champagne robe falling open, her body bare and waiting. "Three days, three women, one man." She looked up at you, and her smile was sharp and hungry and full of promise. "Let's see what you're made of."
