Negotiate, Bonus, Cashback (Eunbi)
Lucky Spotted (Seo Dahyun)
The Cove (Yeojin)
Morning Balcony (Xinyu)
How Well You Can Follow Orders (Gaeul (part 1))
How Well You Can Follow Orders (Gaeul (part2))
Like Mother, Like Daughter (Irene & Yoon Seoyeon)
Passionate Night (Kazuha)
You Trained Him Well (Liz ft. Gaeul)
Triple Trouble (Magenta, Kim Nakyoung, Kim Lip)
Alpha Percented (tripleS Alpha Percent)
Night Club (Haseul)
Mommy's Good Boy (Eunbi)
Little Brave Man (Swan)
Haseul stood in front of the hallway mirror, smoothing out her tight yoga pants. At forty-seven, she knew she looked good. She wasn't the type to have a huge chest, but everything was firm and in the right place. Her skin was clear, and she often got mistaken for Hayeon’s older sister rather than her mother.
Being a widow for five years had been lonely, and lately, that loneliness was turning into a hunger.
The front door opened, and she heard the familiar sound of laughter. Her daughter, Hayeon, walked in, followed by Minjun.
Minjun was a great guy. He was twenty-four, had a steady job at a tech firm, and was always polite. He carried himself with a quiet confidence that Haseul found incredibly attractive.
"Hi, Mom! We're back," Hayeon called out, dropping her bag on the sofa.
"Hello, Auntie," Minjun said with a respectful bow. He always called her "Auntie," which usually made Haseul feel old, but today, she wanted to use it to her advantage.
"Oh, Minjun, you’re here again," Haseul said, walking into the living room slowly. She made sure to stand close to him—closer than a mother-in-law usually would. "You look tired. Does that office work keep you too busy?"
Minjun smiled nervously, stepping back half an inch. "It’s okay, Auntie. Just a long day of meetings."
"Well, you're in luck. I’m making a big dinner," Haseul said. She reached out and patted his arm, letting her hand linger on his bicep. She felt the muscle tighten under his shirt. "You need your strength, a big strong man like you."
Hayeon giggled, oblivious to the tension. "Mom, stop embarrassing him! He’s already the best boyfriend ever."
"I'm just looking out for him, honey," Haseul replied, her eyes locked on Minjun’s. She gave him a slow wink that made him look at the floor immediately.
During dinner, the table was small, which meant their knees were close.
Haseul sat directly across from Minjun. Every few minutes, she would "accidentally" brush her foot against his leg under the table.
Minjun would jump slightly, cough, and take a big gulp of water. He was a good man, he loved Hayeon and respected Haseul. He didn't want to think that his girlfriend’s mother was hitting on him, but it was getting harder to ignore.
"Minjun, try the spicy pork," Haseul said, picking up a piece with her chopsticks. Instead of putting it on his plate, she held it up to his mouth. "Open up."
Hayeon watched, a bit confused but still smiling. "Mom, he has hands."
"I know, but I want to make sure he enjoys it," Haseul whispered.
Minjun felt his face turn red. He didn't want to be rude, so he leaned in and took the food from her chopsticks.
"Is it good?" she asked, her voice dropping an octave.
"Yes... thank you, Auntie," Minjun stammered.
"You have a little sauce right here," Haseul said.
Before he could grab a napkin, she reached across and wiped the corner of his mouth with her thumb. She didn't pull away quickly. She let her thumb rest on his lower lip for a second too long.
Hayeon finally looked a little uncomfortable. "Okay, Mom, that's enough. You're acting weird today."
"I’m just being friendly, Hayeon. Don't be so sensitive," Haseul laughed, but she didn't look at her daughter. She was watching the way Minjun’s throat moved as he swallowed hard.
After dinner, Hayeon went upstairs to take a quick shower before they watched a movie.
This left Minjun and Haseul alone in the living room. Minjun immediately sat on the far end of the couch, staring intently at the TV.
Haseul didn't sit in the armchair. She sat right next to him.
"You know, Minjun," she started, leaning back so her shoulder pressed against his. "Hayeon is a lucky girl. You’re very handsome, and you’re so polite. It’s hard to find a man like you these days."
"Thank you, Auntie. I really care about her," Minjun said, his voice shaking slightly. He was trying to be firm, trying to remind her—and himself—where he stood.
"I know you do. But a man has needs, too. Does she take good care of you?" Haseul asked. She shifted her weight, and the fabric of her yoga pants rustled against his jeans. She put her hand on his knee.
Minjun froze. "Auntie, please. Hayeon is upstairs."
"She’s in the shower, Minjun. She can’t hear us," Haseul whispered, leaning closer until he could smell her perfume—something floral and heavy.
"You’re so tense. Why are you so scared of me?"
"I’m not scared," Minjun said, finally looking at her. "I just... I respect you. You're her mother."
Haseul leaned in even closer, her face inches from his. "I’m also a woman, Minjun. A very lonely woman who hasn't had a man’s attention in a long time. Don't tell me you haven't noticed."
Minjun looked at her lips, then back at her eyes. He felt a wave of guilt wash over him because, deep down, he had noticed. It was impossible not to. She was beautiful, and the way she was looking at him right now made his heart race for all the wrong reasons.
"I have to go," Minjun said, suddenly standing up.
"Going so soon? The movie hasn't even started," Haseul said, remaining seated, looking up at him with a smile.
"I forgot I have an early report tomorrow," he lied, backing away toward the door.
Just then, Hayeon came jogging down the stairs, drying her hair with a towel. "Wait, Minjun, you're leaving?"
"Yeah, sorry babe. Work stuff, maybe next time," Minjun said, not looking at Haseul. He kissed Hayeon quickly on the forehead and hurried out the door.
Hayeon sighed and sat down where Minjun had been. "He’s been so stressed lately. Maybe work is really getting to him."
Haseul leaned back, stretching her arms over her head so her shirt pulled tight. She saw the way he looked at her before he ran away.
"Maybe," Haseul said softly. "But don't worry, honey. I’ll make sure he feels welcome next time he comes over. I think he just needs to get used to how we do things in this house."
Hayeon looked at her mother, a small frown forming on her face. "Mom, you were really laying it on thick tonight. It was kind of embarrassing."
"I was just being a good hostess, Hayeon," Haseul replied, her voice smooth and innocent. "I just want him to feel like part of the family."
Hayeon didn't hear her. She was already scrolling through her phone, texting Minjun that she loved him.
The next Friday, Hayeon called from her job at the mall to say she would be two hours late. Minjun, however, didn't get the message in time. He showed up at the front door at 6:00 PM, holding a bag of takeout and looking tired from his long week.
Haseul opened the door wearing a silk robe that barely reached her mid-thigh. She had been waiting for a moment like this.
"Oh, Minjun. Hayeon isn't home yet," she said, her voice low and smooth. She didn't move out of the doorway, forcing him to stand close to her to speak.
"Oh, I should probably go then," Minjun said, shifting the weight of the bag.
"Don't be silly. It's hot out. Come inside and have a cold drink." She reached out, taking his wrist and pulling him gently into the air-conditioned house. "I was just about to hop in the shower, but I can wait."
She led him to the kitchen. As he put the food on the counter, Haseul stood right behind him. She could feel the heat radiating off his back. Minjun turned around and found himself trapped between the counter and Haseul’s body.
"Auntie, I really think I should wait in the car," he whispered, his heart drumming against his ribs.
"Why are you so nervous, Minjun? It’s just us." Haseul reached up, her fingers grazing the collar of his work shirt. She began to slowly undo the top button. "You're sweating. Let me help you get comfortable."
"I can't... you’re her mother," he gasped, but he didn't pull away. His eyes were fixed on the opening of her robe, where the firm curve of her chest was clearly visible.
"I am," Haseul whispered, her breath hot against his neck. "But Hayeon is young. She doesn't know how to appreciate a man like you. She doesn't know what you need after a long day."
She slid her hands inside his shirt, her palms flat against his warm chest. Minjun groaned, his resolve crumbling. Haseul’s skin was soft, and she moved with a confidence that Hayeon didn't have.
Haseul took his hand and guided it to her waist, pressing it against the smooth silk of her robe. "Do I feel like an 'Auntie' to you right now, Minjun?"
Minjun looked down at her. Her face was youthful, her eyes full of a dark, hungry fire. He was a good man, but he was also human. The constant teasing over the past few weeks had pushed him to the edge.
"No," he rasped, his fingers tightening on her waist.
"Good," she smiled, reaching down to untie the belt of her robe. It slid off her shoulders, pooling on the kitchen floor.
She wasn't wearing anything underneath. Her breasts firm and tipped with dark pink. Minjun’s breath hitched. He had never seen anything so beautiful.
"Hayeon will be home soon," he warned, though his voice lacked any real conviction.
"We have an hour," Haseul replied, stepping into his arms. She pulled his head down and kissed him hard.
Minjun gave in, dropping the bag of food as he wrapped his arms around her, lifting her up onto the kitchen counter.
Haseul wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him as close as possible. She felt the hard line of him through his trousers and let out a soft moan of triumph.
"Show me," she whispered against his ear. "Show me what my daughter is missing."
Minjun’s hands were shaking as he gripped Haseul’s thighs. He looked at her, Haseul leaned back on her elbows, arching her back just enough to make her firm breasts stand out. She looked at him with a hungry gaze, her lips parted.
"Don't stop now, Minjun," she breathed.
Minjun didn't say a word. He dropped to his knees between her legs. The scent of her perfume and the heat of her body were overwhelming. He leaned forward, his face inches away from her.
Slowly he finally pressed his lips against her soft skin, Haseul let out a sharp, jagged breath and ran her fingers through his hair, pulling him closer.
He started slow, his tongue tracing light circles, testing the waters. But the way she reacted—the way her hips bucked slightly against the counter—drove him wild. He forgot about being the "polite boyfriend." He forgot about the "Auntie" title. He only cared about the woman in front of him.
"Oh, yes... right there," Haseul moaned, her head falling back. She gripped the edge of the counter so hard.
Minjun got bolder, his tasting becoming deeper. He could hear her breath hitching, turning into small, desperate whimpers.
Haseul looked down at the top of his head, feeling a surge of power. She had spent months wondering what it would feel like to have him like this, and the reality was better than the fantasy. His youth and his strength were exactly what she needed to feel alive again.
"You're so good at this," she whispered, her voice cracking. "So much better than I imagined."
Minjun was lost in her. He felt a desperate need to please her, to prove that he was the man she wanted him to be.
Suddenly, the sound of a car pulled into the driveway. The headlights flashed through the kitchen window for a brief second, light up the room.
Minjun froze, his heart leaping into his throat. He looked up at Haseul, his eyes wide with pure terror. "Is that her? Is that Hayeon?"
Haseul didn't look scared. She listened for a moment. "No, that’s the neighbor’s car. Relax."
She reached down, grabbing him by the shoulders and pulling him back up toward her. She didn't want him to stop. She wanted him to finish what he started. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled his lips to hers, kissing him with a messy hunger.
"Don't stop," she pleaded against his mouth. "We still have time. I need you, Minjun."
He reached for his belt again, his eyes locking onto hers.
"I'm not going anywhere," he whispered back.
He reached down and finally freed his cock from his trousers. He was hard and throbbing, his body fully reacting to the tension that had been building for weeks.
Haseul’s eyes widened as she looked at him. She reached out with a manicured hand, her fingers wrapping around him. She squeezed gently, feeling the heat and the pulse of his blood.
"Look at you," she whispered, her voice thick with desire. "Hayeon has no idea what a man she has."
She didn't wait for him to respond. She slid off the counter, landing softly. She sank to her knees on the kitchen floor right in front of him. Minjun let out a shaky breath, his hands finding her shoulders for support as he looked down at her.
Haseul looked up at him, a playful, hungry smile on her face. She leaned in, her tongue licking the tip of him slowly, savoring the taste.
Minjun’s head fell back, a low groan escaping his throat.
"Auntie..." he choked out, the word sounded ridiculous in this position.
"Hush," she murmured against his skin.
She took him into her mouth, her lips forming a tight seal. She moved with a slow, deliberate rhythm that showed her years of experience. She knew exactly how to use her tongue and how much pressure to apply.
Minjun gripped her shoulders harder, his knuckles turning white as he tried to keep his balance.
The sensation was incredible. It was nothing like the shy, hesitant way Hayeon approached things. Haseul was aggressive and confident. She looked up at him while she did it, her eyes locked onto his, watching his reaction. She loved seeing the way his face contorted with pleasure, the way his breath came in short.
She increased the pace, her hand moving at the base to match the rhythm of her mouth. Minjun felt the heat building in his gut, a pressure that was becoming impossible to control. He tried to hold back, thinking of the front door and the ticking clock, but Haseul wouldn't let him. She used her other hand to reach up and stroke his thigh, pulling him closer into her.
"I'm... I'm close," Minjun warned, his voice breaking.
Haseul didn't pull away. Instead, she sped up, her eyes sparking with triumph. She wanted all of him. She wanted to prove that she could break his willpower completely.
As he reached his limit, Minjun’s knees buckled slightly. "Fuck…—" as he finally let go.
She stayed with him through every second of it, refusing to let go until he was completely spent.
When she finally pulled back, swallows what she got in her mouth, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, looking up at him with a satisfied glow.
Minjun was leaning against the counter, gasping for air, his eyes glazed over.
"Come on," she whispered, grabbing his hand and pulling him toward the living room. "The counter is too hard. I want to show you something better."
Minjun followed her like, he knew he should be getting his clothes back on, grabbing the takeout, and pretending to watch TV, but his body wouldn't listen to his conscience.
When they got to the wide, leather sofa in the living room, Haseul pushed him down. Minjun sank into the cushions, still half-dressed, his shirt open and his trousers bunched around his ankles. Before he could even catch his breath, Haseul was climbing over him. She straddled his lap, her knees digging into the cushions on either side of his hips.
She reached down, her fingers wrapping around his cock, which was already hardening again under her touch. She guided him to the entrance of her wet, aching heat. She didn't hesitate. She lowered herself down slowly, her eyes locked onto his, watching the exact moment he slid inside her.
"Oh... fuck," Minjun groaned, his head hitting the back of the sofa. She felt tight—too tight—and the heat of her was like a physical weight.
Haseul didn't wait for him to find a rhythm. She started to move immediately. She was an expert. She knew exactly how to tilt her pelvis to catch him just right. She began to grind her hips in a slow, circular motion, her firm breasts bouncing slightly with every movement. She wasn't just riding him, she was controlling him.
"You like that, don't you, Minjun?" she hissed, leaning forward so her chest pressed against his. "You like having your girlfriend's mom take care of you like this?"
Minjun couldn't even answer. He reached up, his hands finding her waist, his thumbs digging into the soft skin of her hips. He started to thrust upward, meeting her pace. She was moving like a pro, her back arched, her hands resting on his chest for balance.
"Harder," she commanded. "I want you to forget everything else. Just think about how good this feels."
Haseul was relentless. She bounced on him that left Minjun gasping for air. Every time he felt like he was going to lose it, she would slow down just a fraction, teasing him, before slamming back down even harder. She was a woman who had been starved for a long time, and she was feasting on his youth and energy.
"Haseul... I'm going to... I can't hold it," Minjun rasped. His vision was starting to blur, pushing him over the edge faster than he ever thought possible.
Haseul felt the change in his body. She felt the way his muscles tensed up and the way his thrusts became more desperate. She leaned down and bit his shoulder, her nails scratching deep into his back. "Do it," she whispered. "Give it to me."
With a sudden burst of strength, he grabbed her by the waist and lifted her off him just as he felt the first wave of his climax hit.
Haseul let out a cry, her body sliding off him and landing face-down on the sofa cushions, her ass tilted up in the air. Minjun scrambled to his knees behind her. He was shaking, his breath coming in ragged sobs. He gripped his cock with one hand, stroking himself fast and hard as the pressure finally exploded.
"Oh fuckkk!" he yelled, though he tried to keep his voice muffled.
The first thick stream of white cum hit the small of her back. He didn't stop. He kept stroking, his hand moving in a blur. More and more of him splattered across her smooth, tan skin. It coated her lower back and began to drip down between the cheeks of her firm ass. Haseul stayed there, panting, her face buried in a pillow, feeling the hot liquid land on her skin. She loved it. She loved the mark he was leaving on her.
Minjun finally collapsed back against the sofa, his hand dropping to his side. He was covered in sweat, his heart feeling like it was going to burst out of his chest. He looked at the mess he had made on her—the white streaks standing out against her dark skin—and the reality of what they had just done hit him like a freight train.
Haseul slowly sat up, turning around to look at him. She looked like a mess, her hair tangled and her makeup slightly smeared. She reached back, her fingers touching the wetness on her hip, and then she looked at her hand.
"Good boy, Minjun," she said, her voice dripping with satisfaction.
Before he could respond, they heard the distinct sound of a key turning in the front door lock.
"Mom? Minjun? I'm home! The mall let us out early because the AC broke!" Hayeon’s voice echoed through the hallway.
The cold sweat from Minjun’s face. He looked like he was about to faint. Haseul, however, didn't panic. She grabbed her silk robe from the floor and threw it on, tying the belt in one swift motion. She grabbed a nearby throw blanket and tossed it over Minjun’s lap.
"Clean yourself up, fast," she whispered, her eyes sharp. "And put that takeout on the table."
She walked toward the hallway, smoothing her hair and putting on her best "innocent mother" smile.
"We're in here, honey!" she called out, her voice perfectly steady. "Minjun was just telling me about his day. We were just about to start the food."
Minjun’s hands were still shaking as he wiped the sweat from his forehead. He had managed to clean himself up and pull his pants up just seconds before Hayeon walked into the living room. The smell of the takeout food helped mask the scent of what had just happened on the sofa.
"Hey, babe!" Hayeon said, leaning over the back of the couch to kiss Minjun on the cheek. "Sorry I'm late. You look... hot. Is the AC not working well?"
"It's just a bit humid tonight," Minjun stammered, forced to look at his girlfriend while her mother sat just a few feet away, her silk robe still slightly damp in places.
Dinner was a blur of tension. Haseul sat at the head of the table, sipping a glass of red wine. She looked perfectly calm, even as she watched Minjun struggle to hold his chopsticks steady. Every time Hayeon laughed or touched Minjun’s arm, Haseul would catch Minjun’s eye and give a tiny smirk.
"Babe, it’s so late already," Hayeon said, leaning her head on his shoulder as they finished the last of the noodles. "And it’s raining outside now. Why don’t you just sleep over? We can watch movies and stay up late. I really want us to spend more time together."
Minjun felt a knot in his stomach. "I… I don't know. I don't want to be a bother to your mom."
"Oh, nonsense," Haseul said, setting her wine glass down with a soft clink. "I think it’s a lovely idea. Minjun is always welcome here. You two go on up. I’ll finish cleaning up the kitchen."
Hayeon beamed, pulling Minjun toward the stairs. "See? Mom doesn't mind! Come on, I’m going to go change into something comfortable. I'll meet you in my room in five minutes."
Hayeon skipped up the stairs, leaving Minjun alone in the hallway with Haseul. The silence was heavy. Minjun started to follow Hayeon, but Haseul stepped in front of him, blocking the bottom of the staircase.
She reached into the pocket of her robe and pulled out a small, square foil packet. She took Minjun’s hand and pressed the condom into his palm, closing his fingers over it.
"Take this," she whispered, her voice low and dangerous. "Just in case."
Minjun stared at the packet, then at her. "Auntie... what… what is this?"
Haseul leaned in close, her lips almost touching his ear. "She’s a big girl, Minjun. And I know you're a big boy with a lot of... energy. I saw that for myself tonight." She gave his hand a firm squeeze. "Go ahead. Just don't break her. She’s not as tough as I am."
Minjun felt a rush of heat go through him. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. Haseul was giving him her blessing—or perhaps, she was just marking her territory, letting him know that even when he was with her daughter, she was the one in control.
"Go on," Haseul said, giving him a gentle push toward the stairs. "Don't keep her waiting."
Minjun walked up the stairs in a daze. When he entered Hayeon’s room, the lights were dimmed. Hayeon was sitting on the edge of the bed in a thin nightgown, looking nervous but happy.
"There you are," she said softly. "I was worried you changed your mind."
Minjun sat on the edge of the bed, the small foil packet in his pocket feeling like it was burning a hole through his pants.
Hayeon leaned against his shoulder, her hair smelling like fresh shampoo. The room was cozy, filled with posters and stuffed animals.
"Your mom is... she's really something," Minjun said, his voice a bit shaky. He was trying to sound casual, "I mean, I was surprised she was so cool with me staying over. Most moms would be standing at the door with a knife kitchen or at least making me sleep on the hard floor in the living room."
Hayeon laughed softly, her fingers tracing the calluses on his hand. "I know. She’s different. People always think she’s going to be strict because she’s so beautiful and poised, but she’s actually my best friend."
Minjun swallowed hard. "Best friends? Do you guys... talk about everything?"
"Pretty much," Hayeon said, looking up at him with honest eyes. "When my dad passed away five years ago, it was just the two of us. We had to lean on each other for everything. The grief was so heavy, Babe. I watched her cry every night for a year, but she always stayed strong for me during the day. We made a pact back then, no secrets. Ever."
She shifted closer, resting her head on his chest. "That's why she's so chill about you. I told her how much I like you, and she told me she wants me to be happy. She said life is too short to spend it being lonely or following old-fashioned rules."
Minjun felt a chill run down his spine. No secrets. If that was true, did Hayeon know what her mother was doing? Or was Haseul breaking that pact every time she touched him? Or worse—was this all part of some game they played together?
"She told me to take care of you," Minjun whispered, thinking of the condom in his pocket.
"She really likes you, Minjun," Hayeon said, her voice dropping to a shy whisper. She reached out and began to unbutton his shirt, her movements much slower and more hesitant than her mother's had been. "She told me today that I shouldn't be afraid to show you how I feel. She said a man like you needs to feel appreciated."
Minjun looked down at Hayeon. She was so young, so sincere. She didn't have the predatory fire that Haseul had, but there was a sweet heat in her eyes.
"Is that what she said?" Minjun asked, his hands moving to Hayeon's waist.
"Yeah," Hayeon breathed, her face reddening as she pulled his shirt off his shoulders. "She said I should learn from her... that she could teach me how to keep a man happy."
Minjun froze for a second. The way she said it made him wonder exactly how much "teaching" had been going on. He thought of Haseul downstairs, probably sitting with her wine, listening to the floorboards creak above her head. She had given him the tool, she had given him the permission, and she had given him the warning.
Don't break her.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out the square packet. When Hayeon saw it, her eyes widened, but she didn't look away. She looked at him with trust.
"Mom gave you that, didn't she?" Hayeon asked softly.
"She did," Minjun admitted.
Hayeon smiled, a little bit of her mother’s mischief finally appearing in her expression. "Then I guess we shouldn't let it go to waste. I want to be close to you tonight, Babe. Really close."
Minjun moved slowly, his hands trembling as he pulled the nightgown over Hayeon’s head. She was beautiful in a way that was softer than her mother, her body youthful and lithe, her pale skin.
He began to kiss her, starting at her forehead and working his way down. He kissed her cheeks, her jawline, and the sensitive skin behind her ears. Hayeon let out soft, airy gasps, her fingers curling into the sheets. Unlike the aggressive, demanding hunger of Haseul, Hayeon was like a flower opening up.
He moved his lips down to her neck and then her collarbone, then moved lower, his tongue tracing the valley between her breasts. Hayeon arched her back, her breath hitching. "Minjun," she whispered, her voice filled with a pure kind of wanting.
He spent a long time worshiping her body. He kissed her stomach, the insides of her wrists, and the soft skin of her inner thighs. He wanted to be thorough, to be the perfect boyfriend she thought he was.
Finally, the moment came. Minjun reached over to the nightstand and grabbed the foil packet. His fingers fumbled with the packaging. As he rolled the condom into place, the reality hit him hard. He looked at Hayeon, who was lying back against the pillows, her hair spread out like a dark fan, looking at him with nothing but love and trust.
He couldn't do it. Not without saying something. The guilt making it hard to breathe.
He paused, his hands hovering over her hips, his eyes searching hers.
"Hayeon," he rasped, his voice cracking. "I... I have to tell you something. Before we do this. About tonight. About your mom."
He expected her to look confused or hurt. He expected her to pull away. He was ready to confess everything—the kitchen counter, the living room sofa, the way Haseul had tasted. He wanted to tell her that he felt like he was losing his mind.
"I know," she said softly.
Hayeon didn't move. She didn't look mad. Instead, a small smile curled the corners of her lips. She reached up, her cool fingers stroking his chin, tracing the line of his jaw.
Minjun froze. The world felt like it had stopped spinning. "You... you know?"
Hayeon giggled, she pulled him down, so his face was inches from hers. "I told you, Babe. We share everything. We don't have secrets in this house."
"But... downstairs... she and I..." Minjun stammered, his brain struggling to process her reaction. "I didn't mean for it to happen. She was just so... and I..."
Hayeon placed a finger over his lips to silence him. "I know she’s been teasing you for weeks. I saw the way you looked at her, and I saw the way she looked at you. My mom is a very beautiful woman, Minjun. She’s been lonely for a long time, and she has very... specific tastes."
She shifted her hips, pulling him closer into the cradle of her thighs. "I knew she was going to try something tonight. I even told her to be nice to you while I was 'late' coming home from the mall."
Minjun’s jaw dropped. The room felt like it was tilting. "You told her to?"
"I didn't think she would be quite this fast, though," Hayeon said, she glanced at the marks on his shoulder—the red scratches Haseul had left behind. "She really couldn't help herself, could she? I guess you’re even more tough than I thought."
Minjun felt a wave of vertigo. He had spent the last hour feeling like a monster, like he had destroyed a family, only to find out that he was the only one who hadn't been in on the plan. The mother and daughter were a team.
"Why?" he managed to ask. "Why would you want that?"
Hayeon’s expression turned a bit more serious, though the smile remained. "Because I love you, Minjun. And I love my mom. If I’m going to spend my life with someone, I want to know they fit into our world. My mom knows what a real man needs. She knows things I’m still learning. She told me she would 'test' you, to see if you could handle us. Both of us."
She ran her hands down his back, her nails lightly grazing the same spots Haseul had marked. "And besides... seeing you like this, knowing you've already been with her... it makes me want you even more. It’s like you’ve been seasoned."
Minjun looked at her, truly looked at her. He saw the same hunger in Hayeon’s eyes that he had seen in Haseul’s downstairs. It was just wrapped in a younger, sweeter package. The "Auntie" and the "Girlfriend" were two sides of the same coin.
"So you're not mad?" he whispered.
"Mad?" Hayeon laughed again, pulling his head down for a deep, lingering kiss. "Babe, I’m thrilled. Now, stop talking about my mother and show me why she was so impressed. I’ve been waiting all night to see what all the fuss is about."
He gripped Hayeon’s waist, his thumbs pressing into her soft skin. He began to move, entering her with a slow, deliberate force. Hayeon let out a loud, sharp cry of pleasure, her legs wrapping around his waist, locking him in.
"Yes," she gasped against his neck. "Oh my god, Minjun..."
As they found their rhythm, Minjun found himself looking toward the bedroom door. It was closed, but he could imagine Haseul standing on the other side, or perhaps sitting in the dark hallway, listening to the sounds of her daughter experiencing what she had just tasted.
He didn't care anymore. He leaned down and bit Hayeon’s shoulder, mimicking the way her mother had bitten him. Hayeon responded by arching her back, her fingers digging into his hair.
The pace increased. The bed frame creaked rhythmically against the wall. Minjun was no longer holding back. He was moving with a wild, primal energy, fueled by the knowledge that he didn't have to choose.
Hayeon was loud—much louder than her mother had been. She called out his name, her body shaking with every thrust.
"Don't... don't stop," she begged, her eyes glazed over. "I want to feel everything."
Minjun pushed himself harder, he felt the sweat dripping off his forehead and onto her chest.
"Hayeon, I'm... I'm going to..."
"Do it, Babe! Fill me up!" she cried out, her voice echoing in the small room.
He didn't pull out this time. He slammed into her one last time, his body convulsing as he released everything into her. Hayeon screamed into his shoulder, her own climax hitting her at the same time, her body tensing up like a bowstring before finally going limp.
They lay there for a long time, the only sound the heavy thud of their hearts and the dying rain outside. Minjun felt drained, both physically and emotionally. He collapsed onto her, his face buried in the crook of her neck, sharing heavy breathing.
Minjun rolled off Hayeon and lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling. Hayeon immediately crawled over to him, resting her head on his chest and draping an arm across his stomach.
Minjun closed his eyes, a small, tired smile forming on his face. He was exhausted, but for the first time in years, he felt completely alive.
The exhaustion was total. Minjun’s body simply shut down, leaving him in a deep, heavy sleep.
For about half an hour, a sensation started to pull him back to the surface. It was a warm, wet feeling.
At first, he thought he was dreaming, but the sensation was too vivid, too real. He felt a soft tongue swirling around the tip of his cock, while a set of small, nimble fingers stroked the base.
Minjun’s eyes fluttered open. The room was still dim, lit only by the soft glow of a streetlamp filtering through the rain-streaked window. He looked down toward the foot of the bed, and his breath hitched in his throat.
There were two of them.
Hayeon was kneeling between his legs, her hair messy and her eyes bright with a new kind of confidence. But beside her, leaning over the edge of the bed with her silk robe hanging open, was Haseul.
The mother and daughter were working together, their hands moving in sync, their eyes meeting over his lap with smiles that made Minjun’s blood run hot all over again.
"Look who’s finally awake," Haseul whispered. She reached out and traced a line from his navel down to where Hayeon’s mouth was busy. "We thought we’d give you a little wake-up call."
Minjun tried to speak, but all that came out was a low, shaky groan. "Auntie... Hayeon... what are you doing?"
"We're taking care of you, Babe," Hayeon said, pulling back for a second to give him a cheeky grin. Her lips were wet and glistening. "Mom said you probably had a little bit left in you, and I wanted to see if she was right."
Haseul moved closer, climbing onto the bed so she was perched on her knees next to her daughter. She took over with her hand, her grip firm and experienced, while Hayeon watched intently, learning the technique.
"See, honey?" Haseul murmured to Hayeon, her voice a low purr. "You have to be firm but gentle. Like this."
Minjun felt like he was losing his mind. The sight of the two women—one the girl he loved, the other the woman who had dominated him hours before—playing with him together was more than he could process. His body, despite the exhaustion, was already responding. He was hardening rapidly under their combined attention.
"Oh, look," Haseul giggled, her eyes locked onto Minjun's. "He’s a fast learner. Just like I told you, Hayeon. He’s got so much potential."
Haseul leaned forward, her firm breasts brushing against Minjun’s knees as she bent down to join her daughter. Now, both of them were tasting him, their tongues competing for space, their hands crossing over each other. The sensation was overwhelming. It was a sensory overload of heat, wetness, and the scent of two different but familiar women.
Minjun gripped the headboard of the bed, his knuckles turning white. "I can't... this is too much," he gasped.
"It's just the beginning," Haseul said, pulling back to look at him, her face flushed with heat. "We decided that since we’re sharing everything, we might as well start now."
Hayeon looked up at her mother. "Can I try what you did earlier, Mom? The way you moved?"
Haseul smiled, a proud look in her eyes. "Of course, honey. Stand up. I’ll show you how to lead him."
Under Haseul’s direction, Hayeon climbed on top of Minjun again. But this time, Haseul didn't leave. She sat right behind Hayeon, her arms wrapped around her daughter's waist, guiding her movements. She reached around and played with Hayeon’s breasts while Hayeon lowered herself onto Minjun.
The feeling of being inside Hayeon while her mother coached her and touched her was something Minjun couldn't have imagined in his wildest fantasies. Every thrust was guided by Haseul’s hands on Hayeon’s hips.
"Slower, honey. Make him feel every bit of you," Haseul whispered into Hayeon’s ear.
Minjun watched them, the way their bodies moved together in a perfect, synchronized dance. He saw the family resemblance—the same curve of the hip, the same intensity in the eyes. He felt like he was being consumed by them, drawn into a circle of fire that he never wanted to leave.
"You like this, don't you, Minjun?" Haseul asked, leaning her head over Hayeon’s shoulder so she could look him in the eye. Her hand reached down, sliding between their bodies to touch the place where they were joined. "You like being our man?"
"Yes," Minjun choked out. "Yes, I love it."
Hayeon let out a long, high-pitched moan as she found her rhythm. She was moving with a new kind of power now, fueled by her mother’s presence and Minjun’s reaction.
Haseul started to kiss Hayeon’s neck, her hands moving all over her daughter’s body, while her eyes never left Minjun’s. It was a display of pure, unashamed intimacy that shattered every rule Minjun had ever known. He felt his climax building again, stronger and more violent than the ones before.
"I'm going to... I'm going to come!" Minjun yelled, his body beginning to shake.
Minjun exploded, his body bucking off the mattress. He poured everything he had left into Hayeon, while Haseul squeezed them both tight, her own body shivering as she watched them finish. It was a collective explosion of energy that left all three of them gasping for air, tangled together in a mess of limbs and sweat.
As the dust settled, Hayeon collapsed onto Minjun’s chest, her heart racing against his. Haseul lay down beside them, draping a long, tan arm over both of them.
The silence that followed wasn't awkward. It was peaceful. The storm outside had passed, leaving only the sound of the dripping eaves.
"Now," Haseul said softly, her voice full of warmth. "I think we can finally get some sleep."
She reached over and kissed Hayeon on the forehead, then turned and kissed Minjun deeply on the lips—a kiss that tasted of her daughter and herself.
"Welcome to the family, Minjun," she whispered.
Minjun lay there, sandwiched between the two most beautiful women he had ever known. He was beyond exhausted, his body feeling like it was made of lead, but his mind was at peace.
He was never going to leave this house.
The weeks that followed changed Minjun’s life forever. What started as a secret became their new normal.
At first, it was a bit awkward at the breakfast table, but Haseul’s easy smile and Hayeon’s constant affection quickly made the tension disappear.
They lived by a simple rule: they shared everything.
During the days, Minjun went to his office, he would get texts from Hayeon during her lunch break and spicy photos from Haseul while she was home alone. The "test" had turned into a permanent arrangement.
Sometimes, they got a little greedy. There were nights when Hayeon wanted him all to herself, pulling him into her room and locking the door. On those nights, Haseul would wait, sometimes teasing them through the wall or waiting for him to sneak into her bed in the early morning hours. Other times, Haseul would claim him first, using her experience to keep him busy for hours until he was almost too tired for her daughter.
He wasn't just a boyfriend anymore, he was the man of the house, loved and desired by two women who refused to let him go.
counts: ~6120 words
tags: smut, fluff, marriage, date weekend, public tease
synopsis: Two years together, with my wife, Yooyeon. Marriage with a cozy apartment, and no rush for kids. That night I spoiled her with takeout, candles, and slow, deep love, for her birthday.
I sat in the car with the engine off, windows cracked just enough to let in the late afternoon air. The parking lot was starting to empty out, cars pulling away one by one as the office people finished their Friday.
My phone showed 4:58. I kept glancing at the main door of the building, waiting for her.
Yooyeon walked out at exactly 5:02. Same black blazer she always wore on Fridays, white blouse underneath, pencil skirt that hugged her hips the way I still couldn’t get tired of. Her hair was up in a loose bun, a few strands falling around her face.
She looked tired, really tired, but even on her worst days she still looked gorgeous to me. Always has.
She spotted our car right away. I saw the tiny lift at the corner of her mouth, then she walked over
I pushed the passenger door open before she reached it.
“Hey, beautiful,” I said.
She slid in, dropped her bag on the floor, leaned over and kissed me quick—soft lips, a little sticky from whatever lip balm she’d put on that morning.
“Hey yourself,” she pulled the seatbelt across her chest and let her head fall back against the headrest. “God, I’m dead.”
“Rough one?”
“Client changed the whole campaign direction at 3:30. Again. I wanted to scream.” She rubbed her temples with two fingers. “But I didn’t. I smiled and said ‘of course, we can pivot.’ I deserve a medal.”
“You deserve dinner and a drink. Maybe two.”
She turned her head to look at me. “You’re in a good mood.”
“It’s Friday. And…” I let it hang for a second, grinning. “It’s a special day.”
Yooyeon closed her eyes and let out a small laugh through her nose. “Don’t start. You know I don’t do birthdays anymore.”
“Yeah, yeah. You’ve been saying that since you turned 24. Doesn’t mean I have to listen.”
She opened one eye and gave me that look—the one that says she’s pretending to be annoyed but isn’t really. “You’re impossible.”
“Guilty.”
I started the car. The AC kicked on, cool air hitting us both. She sighed like it was the best feeling in the world.
“So,” I said as I pulled out of the parking space, “how about you guess where I’m taking you to eat?”
She turned in her seat a little, facing me more. “Is this a trick question?”
“Maybe.”
“Okay… fine.” She tapped her chin like she was thinking hard. “Not barbecue. We did that last week. Not sushi either—you always complain your stomach hurts after.”
“True.”
“Not pasta. Too heavy for how tired I am.” She paused, studying my face. “You’re smiling too much. That means it’s something I like.”
“Keep going.”
“Is it that Italian place with the truffle pasta? The one near the river?”
“Nope.”
“Damn.” She bit her bottom lip, thinking. “Okay… the steakhouse? But you said not heavy.”
“I didn’t say not heavy. You did.”
She laughed softly. “You’re evil. Just tell me.”
“Nah. One more guess.”
She groaned, dramatic. “Fine. Is it… the rooftop Korean place? The one with the spicy tteokbokki and the soju flight?”
I raised an eyebrow. “You really want spicy after a day like today?”
“I want comfort food. And I want to drink. And I want to sit somewhere pretty and not think about work for three hours.”
I reached over and squeezed her thigh just above the knee—light, familiar. “Good guess. But not quite.”
She pouted. “You’re killing me.”
“Alright, I’ll give you a hint. It’s not fancy. It’s not crowded. And you can wear whatever you want tomorrow morning when we stay in bed late.”
Her eyes narrowed. “We’re not going out to eat?”
“We are. Just… not right now.”
She sat up straighter. “What did you do?”
“You’ll see.”
She stared at me for a long second, then leaned back again, smiling small. “You’re lucky I love surprises from you.”
“I know.”
We drove in comfortable quiet for a while. She played with the radio, skipping songs until she landed on some slow R&B she likes. Her hand rested on my thigh the whole time, thumb moving in lazy circles. That small touch still does things to me after two years.
Instead of heading toward the usual restaurants, I took the turn toward our neighborhood. She noticed immediately.
“Wait… are we going home first?”
“Sort of.”
She laughed. “You’re so suspicious.”
When I pulled into our apartment building’s underground parking, she gave me a look.
“Okay, now I’m really curious.”
I parked, killed the engine, and turned to her. “Come up with me. Five minutes. Then we leave again. Promise.”
She studied my face like she was trying to read my mind. “You’re nervous.”
“A little.”
That made her soften. “Why?”
“Because I love you. And I want tonight to be good.”
She leaned over and kissed me again—this time slower, deeper. Her hand slid up to the back of my neck. When she pulled back her eyes were warm.
“You always make it good,” she said quietly.
We got out. Took the elevator up to the fourth floor. The hallway smelled like someone was cooking kimchi jjigae. Familiar. Home.
I unlocked the door and let her step in first.
The lights were dim. I’d left only the small lamp in the living room on.
The dining table was pushed against the wall. In the middle of the room I’d spread out the thick picnic blanket we usually take to the park. Pillows from the couch were arranged around it.
Two candles flickered on the coffee table—nothing fancy, just the vanilla ones she likes.
There were takeout boxes from her favorite hole-in-the-wall place: galbi jjim, haemul pajeon, the spicy cucumber salad she always steals from my plate, and a bottle of soju in an ice bucket.
Yooyeon stopped in the doorway.
“Oh my god,” she whispered.
“Happy birthday, baby.”
She turned to me, eyes shiny. “You… you did all this?”
“Wanted to give you the night you actually want. No crowds. No dressing up. Just us. Good food. Drinks. And later…” I stepped closer, lowered my voice. “I plan to take my time with you.”
Her cheeks went pink. She looked back at the setup, then at me again.
“You remembered the haemul pajeon place.”
“Of course I did. You talk about it every time we pass by.”
She laughed, soft and surprised. “I didn’t think you were listening that hard.”
“I always listen to you.”
She walked over to the blanket, kicked off her heels, and sat down cross-legged. Pat the spot next to her.
“Come here.”
I joined her. She opened one of the boxes, inhaled deep.
“Smells so good.”
I twisted the soju cap off, poured us both a shot in the little green glasses.
She raised hers. “To… not caring about birthdays. But still getting spoiled anyway.”
I clinked my glass to hers. “To that.”
We drank. Sharp, cold, burns just right.
She leaned against my shoulder, picking at the galbi with her chopsticks.
“This is perfect,” she said quietly. “I was so tired. I just wanted to come home and crash. But this… this is better.”
“Good.”
We ate slow. Talked about stupid stuff—her annoying coworker, the new drama we’re watching, how the neighbor’s dog keeps barking at 2 a.m. Normal life stuff. But every now and then she’d look at me like she was seeing me for the first time.
After the second shot she started getting touchy. Hand on my arm. Fingers brushing my neck. Leaning in closer.
“You know,” she said, voice dropping, “I was thinking in the car… two years married. And you still look at me like you can’t believe I’m yours.”
“Because I can’t.”
She set her glass down. Crawled over until she was straddling my lap, knees on either side of me. Her skirt rode up her thighs.
“I’m yours,” she whispered. “Always have been.”
I slid my hands up her legs, under the skirt, gripping her hips. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
She kissed me hard this time. Open mouth, tongue sliding against mine. Her fingers went into my hair, tugging just enough to make me groan.
I pulled back for a second. “Food’s gonna get cold.”
“I don’t care,” she breathed. “I want you first.”
She rocked her hips once, slow, deliberate. I was already hard under her.
“Fuck, Yooyeon…”
She smiled against my mouth. “Say it again.”
“Fuck, baby…”
She reached down between us, palmed me through my jeans. “Take these off.”
We fumbled like teenagers—buttons, zippers, her skirt pushed up around her waist. She was wearing the black lace panties I like. The ones with the little bow. I groaned when I saw them.
“You wore these to work?”
“Maybe,” she teased. “Maybe I was hoping you’d rip them off later.”
I hooked my fingers in the sides and pulled. She lifted her hips to help. The lace slid down her legs. I tossed them somewhere behind me.
She pushed me back so I was lying on the blanket. Climbed on top again. Her blouse was half unbuttoned now—bra showing, chest rising and falling fast.
She leaned down, lips next to my ear. “I want you inside me. Right now. No waiting.”
I flipped us over so she was on her back. Spread her thighs with my knees. She was already wet—slick and hot when I ran my fingers through her folds.
“Jesus,” I muttered.
“Please,” she said, voice shaking a little. “Don’t tease.”
I lined up, pushed in slow at first. She gasped, nails digging into my shoulders. Then deeper. All the way.
“Fuck,” she breathed. “Yes…”
I started moving—slow, deep thrusts. Her legs wrapped around my waist, heels digging into my lower back, pulling me harder.
“Harder,” she whispered. “Please, harder.”
I gave it to her. Faster. The sound of skin on skin filled the room. She moaned loud—no neighbors close enough to care. Her hands grabbed my ass, urging me on.
“Like that?” I asked, voice rough.
“Yes—god, yes—just like that—”
She clenched around me, tight and hot. I felt her start to shake.
“I’m close,” she panted. “Don’t stop—don’t you dare stop—”
I angled my hips, hitting the spot she loves. She cried out, back arching.
“Baby—I’m gonna—”
“Come for me,” I growled. “Let me feel it.”
She shattered. Whole body trembling, thighs squeezing me tight, wet pulsing around my cock. She moaned my name—loud, broken.
I fucked her through it, chasing my own. She grabbed my face, kissed me messy.
“Come inside me,” she whispered. “Fill me up.”
That did it. I groaned hard, buried deep, and came. Pulse after pulse, spilling into her. She whimpered at the feeling, legs still locked around me.
We stayed like that for a minute—sweaty, breathing hard, still connected.
She kissed my jaw. “Best birthday ever.”
Morning light slipped through the half-closed blinds, thin stripes across the bed. I woke up slow, the way you do when you’ve slept hard after a long night. My body felt heavy in the good way—muscles loose, a little sore from everything we’d done on the living room floor, then again in the shower before we finally crashed around 2 a.m.
Yooyeon was already awake. I could tell because her hand was under the sheet, fingers tracing lazy circles on my stomach, inching lower every few seconds. Her breathing was warm against my neck. She smelled like last night’s soju, vanilla candles, and sex. My favorite combination.
I kept my eyes closed, pretending I was still out. Let her play.
She shifted closer, thigh sliding over mine. Her bare breasts pressed against my side. Soft. Warm. Nipples already hard, brushing my skin every time she moved.
“You’re awake,” she whispered, lips grazing my earlobe. “I can tell.”
I cracked one eye open. She was propped on her elbow, hair a mess, cheeks still flushed from sleep and leftover alcohol. Eyes bright, a little glassy. Still tipsy, definitely.
“Morning,” I mumbled.
“Morning, birthday boy’s wife.” She smiled slow, naughty. “I’m still buzzed. And horny.”
I laughed under my breath. “You were horny at 3 a.m. too.”
“Yeah, but now it’s daylight. Different rules.”
Her hand finally reached my cock. It was already half-hard just from her touching my stomach. She wrapped her fingers around it, gave a slow stroke from base to tip. I hissed through my teeth.
“Fuck, Yooyeon…”
“Shh.” She kissed my jaw, then my throat. “Let me wake you up properly.”
She disappeared under the sheet before I could say anything else. I felt her hair brush my thighs, then her hot mouth closed over the head. No teasing. Just wet heat, tongue swirling, taking me deeper in one smooth slide.
I groaned loud, hand flying to her head. Not pushing—just holding. Her lips stretched around me, cheeks hollowing as she sucked. She moaned around my cock, the vibration shooting straight up my spine.
“Goddamn, baby…”
She popped off for a second, just long enough to look up at me with those dark, needy eyes. “Tastes like us,” she said, voice thick. Then she dove back down, taking me all the way until her nose pressed against my stomach.
I cursed under my breath. She was good at this—always had been—but mornings like this, when she was still loose from drinking and didn’t care about being quiet or neat, she was fucking lethal. Spit slicked down my shaft, her hand pumping what her mouth couldn’t reach. She bobbed fast, sloppy, greedy. Little whimpers coming from her throat every time she gagged herself on me.
I felt my balls tighten way too quick.
“Slow down or I’m gonna—”
She pulled off with a wet pop, grinning like the devil. “Not yet. I want to ride you first.”
She climbed on top before I could catch my breath. Straddled my hips, knees digging into the mattress. Her pussy was already soaked—I could see it glistening when she spread herself with two fingers, rubbing the head of my cock through her folds.
“Fuck, look at you,” I muttered. “So wet.”
“Been thinking about this since I woke up.” She lined me up, sank down just the tip. We both groaned. “Wanted to feel you stretch me again.”
She didn’t ease down slow. She dropped her hips hard, taking every inch in one go. Her head fell back, mouth open in a silent cry. I grabbed her ass with both hands, squeezing.
“Shit—tight,” I gritted out.
She started moving right away. No warm-up. Just rocking her hips in that perfect circle she does, the one that makes me lose my mind. Her hands planted on my chest for balance, nails digging in. Breasts bouncing with every roll.
“Like this?” she panted, grinding down deep, clit rubbing against my pelvis.
“Yeah—just like that. Fuck, you’re so good at this.”
She smiled, wicked. “I know.”
She picked up speed. Hips snapping, ass slapping against my thighs. Wet sounds filled the room—her pussy sucking me in every time she lifted, then slamming back down. I thrust up to meet her, hard, matching her rhythm.
“Harder,” she begged. “Fuck me harder.”
I gripped her waist, took control for a minute—lifting her just enough to slam her back down. She cried out, loud enough the neighbors probably heard.
“Yes—yes—right there—”
Her thighs started shaking. I could feel her getting tighter, wetter. She leaned forward, changed the angle so I hit that spot inside her over and over.
“Oh god—I’m close already,” she whimpered. “Touch me—please—”
I slid one hand between us, thumb finding her clit. Rubbed fast circles the way she likes. She jerked, whole body tensing.
“Gonna come—gonna come on your cock—”
“Do it,” I growled. “Come all over me, baby.”
She shattered. Back arching, mouth open in a broken moan. Pussy clenching so hard I almost lost it right there. She kept riding through it, grinding down, milking every pulse.
When she finally stopped trembling, she collapsed on my chest, breathing ragged. But she didn’t stop moving—just slower rolls now, keeping me buried deep.
“Your turn,” she whispered against my lips.
I flipped us in one move. She laughed, surprised, legs wrapping around my waist. I thrust hard—deep, punishing strokes. She clawed my back, moaning into my mouth.
“Come inside me,” she said, voice wrecked. “Want to feel it again.”
That was all it took. I buried myself as deep as I could, groaned loud, and came hard. Pulse after pulse, filling her up. She whimpered at the feeling, thighs squeezing me tight.
We stayed locked together for a minute, catching our breath. She kissed my shoulder, my neck, my jaw.
“Best wake-up call ever,” I muttered.
She giggled. “You’re welcome.”
I rolled off her carefully. She stretched like a cat, arms above her head, looking satisfied and still a little drunk.
“I’m starving now,” she said.
“Same.”
She sat up, sheet falling to her waist. “Shower first. Then mall. I want to walk around, eat junk food, maybe buy something pretty for tonight.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Tonight?”
“Yeah.” She leaned over, kissed me quick. “You spoiled me last night. Now I want to wear something new… and let you take it off later.”
My cock twitched at the thought, even though we’d just finished.
“You’re gonna kill me,” I said.
“Good way to go.” She slid out of bed, naked, ass swaying as she walked toward the bathroom. “Come on. Shower. Then we’re going to the mall. I’m craving churros and boba. And maybe some new lingerie if you’re lucky.”
I watched her disappear through the door, heard the water turn on.
I lay there for a second, staring at the ceiling, grinning like an idiot.
Two years married, and she still made me feel like the luckiest bastard alive.
I got up, followed her into the steam.
She was already under the spray, head tipped back, letting water run down her body. I stepped in behind her, arms around her waist.
“Happy Saturday,” I said against her wet shoulder.
She turned in my arms, kissed me slow and deep.
“Happy Saturday, husband.”
We washed each other slow—hands everywhere, not rushing. Just touching. Kissing. Laughing when soap got in our eyes.
After, we dressed casual—her in tiny denim shorts and a cropped tee that showed a strip of stomach, me in jeans and a plain black shirt. She put on light makeup, left her hair down and wavy from the night before.
We walked out hand in hand.
The mall was already busy—weekend crowd, families, couples, teenagers everywhere. Air smelled like popcorn and perfume samples.
Yooyeon pulled me toward the food court first.
“Churros. Now.”
I laughed. “Bossy.”
“You love it.”
We got a big box—extra chocolate sauce. Sat on a bench, her legs over mine, feeding each other bites. She licked sugar off her thumb, eyes locked on me the whole time.
“Stop looking at me like that,” I said. “We’re in public.”
“Can’t help it. You’re cute when you’re trying not to get hard in the middle of the mall.”
I groaned. “Evil woman.”
She grinned, took another bite. “After this, lingerie store. Then maybe that bookstore you like. Then home. So you can see what I pick out.”
I leaned in, kissed the corner of her mouth where chocolate lingered.
“Deal.”
She rested her head on my shoulder, watching people walk by.
“I love days like this,” she said quietly. “Just us. No plans. No pressure.”
“Me too.”
She squeezed my hand. “Thank you for last night. Really.”
“Anytime. Every time.”
She looked up at me, eyes soft. “Love you.”
“Love you more.”
We finished the last bite of churro and wiped our hands on napkins.
Yooyeon licked a tiny smear of chocolate off her finger, eyes flicking to mine like she knew exactly what that did to me.
“Come on,” she said, hopping off the bench and grabbing my hand. “Ice cream. Brain freeze will cool me down after that churro sugar rush.”
I let her pull me toward the food court’s ice cream stall—the one with the soft-serve machines and the long line of kids and couples. She bounced a little as we walked, still in that cropped tee and tiny denim shorts that showed off her legs.
The line moved fast. When we got to the front, she leaned over the counter, reading the menu board like it was the most important decision of the day.
“Two cones,” she told the girl behind the counter. “One matcha with strawberry swirl, one chocolate with cookie bits. And extra napkins, please. We’re messy.”
The girl nodded, already scooping. Yooyeon turned back to me, grinning.
“Matcha’s for me. Chocolate cookie for you. You always steal bites of mine anyway, so fair trade.”
I wrapped my arm around her waist from behind, chin resting on her shoulder. “You know me too well.”
She leaned back into me, ass pressing just enough against my front to make me aware of it. “Mmm. I do.”
Our order came. She handed me the chocolate one and took a big lick of hers right away—green and pink swirl melting already in the mall AC. She moaned a little, dramatic.
“So good. Try.”
She held it up to my mouth. I took a bite. She watched my lips the whole time, then licked her own like she was tasting it secondhand.
We wandered while we ate, away from the food court toward the quieter end of the mall where the boutiques were. She kept stealing licks from my cone too, even though she had her own. By the time we were halfway through, her lips were sticky and her tongue was bright pink from the strawberry.
“Messy girl,” I teased, wiping a drop from her chin with my thumb.
She caught my thumb before I could pull it back, sucked it clean slow—eyes locked on mine.
“Oops,” she said, voice low. “Better?”
I felt my dick twitch in my jeans. “You’re playing dangerous games in public.”
She just smiled, innocent as hell, and kept walking.
We passed a few clothing stores, but she slowed when we got to the lingerie section— that one shop with the black and pink sign, windows full of lace and satin. She stopped right in front, tilting her head.
“This one,” she decided. “I’ve never gone in here with you before.”
I raised an eyebrow. “You sure? It’s kinda… exposed.”
“That’s the point.” She tugged my hand. “Come on. Help me pick.”
Inside smelled like vanilla and expensive perfume. Soft lighting, mirrors everywhere, music low and slow. A salesgirl in her twenties smiled at us from behind the counter but didn’t hover—good instinct.
Yooyeon went straight to the racks like she knew what she wanted. She pulled out a black lace set first—bra with thin straps, matching thong that was basically nothing.
“What do you think?” she asked, holding it against her body over her clothes.
I swallowed. “Dangerous.”
She laughed softly. “Good dangerous?”
“Very.”
She added it to her arm, then grabbed a red one—satin bra with little bows, garter belt attached, stockings clipped on display.
“Red’s bold,” I said.
“I’m feeling bold today.” She glanced around, then leaned close. “Imagine peeling this off me later. Slow. One clip at a time.”
My voice came out rough. “Keep talking like that and we’re not making it home.”
She bit her lip, pleased. “Promise?”
She kept going—picked up a white sheer babydoll thing that would hide nothing, then a green satin slip with slits up the sides.
“Too many?” she asked, looking at the pile on her arm.
“Nope. Try them on. I’ll wait.”
She disappeared into the fitting room. I leaned against the wall outside, trying to look casual while my mind ran through every piece she’d grabbed.
A few minutes later the curtain slid open just enough for her to peek out.
“Come here,” she whispered.
I checked—no one was looking. Slipped inside.
She’d put on the black lace first. Bra pushed her tits up perfectly, nipples dark through the sheer parts. Thong high on her hips, cutting across her ass in a way that made my mouth dry. She turned slow, showing me the back—two thin straps over her shoulders, ass cheeks framed like a gift.
“Like?” she asked, voice soft.
I stepped closer, hands sliding to her waist. “Fuck yes.”
She pressed back against me, grinding once—slow, deliberate. I was hard instantly.
“Shh,” she giggled. “Not here. But… soon.”
She changed quick—tried the red next. The garter belt hugged her thighs, stockings sheer black. She hooked one leg up on the little bench, posing.
“Red’s my favorite so far,” I admitted.
“Mine too.” She ran her hands down her sides. “Feels sexy. Powerful.”
Next was the white babydoll. Sheer enough I could see every curve, every freckle. She spun, fabric floating.
“Too innocent?” she asked.
“Not on you.” I pulled her in, kissed her neck. “You make innocent look filthy.”
She moaned quietly, head tilting to give me more skin.
Last one—the green satin slip. She slid it over her head, let it fall. It clung to her like water, slits showing flashes of thigh every time she moved.
“This one’s easy access,” she whispered, lifting the hem just enough to show she wasn’t wearing anything underneath in the fitting room.
I groaned low. “You’re killing me.”
She dropped the hem, turned to face me. “I’m buying all of them. But I’m wearing the red tonight. With the garters.”
I nodded, words gone.
She changed back into her normal clothes fast, handed me the pile. “You pay. I’ll wait outside. Don’t want the salesgirl thinking we were doing something naughty in there.”
I laughed. “Too late for that.”
At the counter, the girl rang everything up without blinking—black lace set, red with garters, white babydoll, green slip. Total made my wallet cry a little, but worth every cent.
Yooyeon waited by the door, swinging the bag when I came out.
“Thank you,” she said, kissing me quick—right there in the mall hallway.
“Anytime.”
We walked out slow, her arm looped through mine. The mall was still buzzing, but it felt like we were in our own bubble.
“Home now?” I asked.
She nodded. “Yeah. But first… one more stop.”
She pulled me toward a small stand selling those giant soft ice creams on sticks—dipped in chocolate, covered in sprinkles.
“Last treat before we go,” she said. “Then you get to unwrap me like a present.”
I bought two—one for each of us. She took a big bite, chocolate smearing her lips.
“Race you to the car?” she teased, already walking backward.
I caught her waist, pulled her close.
“No racing. I want to take my time getting you home.”
She smiled against my mouth, tasting like chocolate and trouble.
“Good,” she whispered. “Because I want you to take your time taking everything off me too.”
We headed to the parking lot, her hand in mine, bag swinging between us.
We got home just as the sun was dipping low.
The drive back was quiet—her hand on my thigh the whole way, fingers tapping a slow rhythm like she was already thinking about what came next.
I parked in our spot, killed the engine. Yooyeon grabbed the bag before I could, swinging it like it weighed nothing.
“Wait in the bedroom,” she said, voice low and teasing. “Don’t peek. I want to surprise you.”
I raised an eyebrow. “How long?”
“Ten minutes. Maybe fifteen. Long enough for you to get hard just thinking about it.”
She laughed when she saw my face, then pushed me toward the hallway with both hands on my chest.
“Go. Shower if you want. But be on the bed when I come in.”
I didn’t argue.
I walked to our room, flipped on the small bedside lamp instead of the overhead light—kept it dim, cozy. Kicked off my shoes, pulled my shirt over my head, tossed it on the chair. Jeans next, then boxers. I lay back on the bed in just my skin, propped against the pillows, cock already half-hard from the way she’d been looking at me all afternoon.
The clock on the nightstand said 7:12. I stared at the ceiling, listening to the sounds of her moving around the apartment—water running in the bathroom, drawers opening and closing, soft footsteps on the wood floor. Every little noise made my pulse kick up.
At 7:28 the bathroom door clicked shut. Then quiet. Too quiet.
I waited.
The bedroom door opened slow.
Yooyeon stepped in.
Fuck.
She’d picked the red one.
The satin bra cupped her perfectly, pushing her breasts up high, little black bows sitting right on the center of each cup like they were begging to be untied. The matching garter belt hugged her waist, thin straps clipping to sheer black stockings that made her legs look a mile long. No panties—just smooth skin, bare pussy already glistening under the soft light. Her hair was down, loose waves framing her face, lips painted a deeper red than usual. She’d done smoky eyes too—made them look darker, hungrier.
She leaned against the doorframe for a second, one hand on her hip, the other trailing down her stomach, stopping just above her clit.
“Like what you see?” she asked, voice husky.
I sat up straighter, cock fully hard now, throbbing against my stomach. “Come here.”
She smiled slow, pushed off the frame, and walked toward the bed. Deliberate steps—hips swaying, stockings whispering with every move. When she reached the edge of the mattress she stopped, just out of reach.
“Not yet,” she said. “Look first.”
She turned slowly, showing me the back. The garter straps framed her ass perfectly, crisscrossing over her cheeks. She bent forward a little, hands on her knees, arching her back so I could see everything—pink folds already wet, clit peeking out.
“Jesus, Yooyeon…”
She straightened, turned back to face me. Climbed onto the bed on her knees, crawling toward me like a cat. The satin bra shifted with every move, nipples hard and visible through the thin fabric.
When she reached me she straddled my thighs, not sitting down yet—just hovering, heat from her pussy radiating against my cock.
“Touch me,” she whispered.
My hands went to her waist first, thumbs brushing the satin of the garter belt. Then up, cupping her breasts through the bra. Heavy, soft. I dragged my thumbs over her nipples—she gasped, hips jerking forward so her wet slit slid along my length.
“Fuck,” I groaned. “You’re soaked already.”
“Been wet since the fitting room,” she admitted, rocking slow. “Thought about you the whole time I was trying these on.”
I reached behind her, found the bra clasp. One flick—hooks undone. The red satin fell away. Her breasts spilled out, nipples dark and tight. I leaned in, took one in my mouth, sucked hard. She moaned loud, fingers tangling in my hair, pulling me closer.
“Yes—like that—”
I switched to the other, tongue flicking, teeth grazing just enough. Her hips rolled faster, coating my cock in her slick.
“Want you inside,” she panted. “Now.”
She lifted up, reached between us, lined me up. Sank down slow this time—inch by inch, eyes locked on mine. We both groaned when she bottomed out, her ass flush against my thighs.
“So full,” she breathed. “Love how you stretch me.”
She started riding—slow at first, rolling her hips in that perfect circle. The garter straps pulled tight every time she lifted, stockings sliding against my skin. I grabbed her ass, helped her move—lifting her, slamming her back down.
“Harder,” she begged. “Fuck me like you mean it.”
I thrust up hard, meeting her halfway. The bed creaked. Her tits bounced with every slam, nipples brushing my chest. She leaned forward, kissed me messy—tongue deep, teeth clashing.
“Gonna come soon,” she whimpered against my mouth. “Touch my clit—please—”
I slid one hand between us, found her swollen clit with my thumb. Rubbed fast, firm circles. She jerked, whole body tensing.
“Right there—fuck—don’t stop—”
Her pussy clenched hard around me, fluttering. She cried out, loud and broken, nails digging into my shoulders. I felt her come—hot, wet pulses squeezing my cock, thighs shaking.
I didn’t stop thrusting—fucked her through it, drawing it out until she was trembling, gasping.
When she finally caught her breath she looked at me, eyes glassy.
“Your turn,” she said. “Come inside me. Fill me up with this on.”
She started riding again—faster now, chasing my orgasm. The sight of her in the red lingerie, garters taut, stockings still perfect, hair wild—it was too much.
“Fuck, baby—I’m close—”
“Do it,” she whispered, grinding down deep. “Come in your wife.”
I gripped her hips hard, thrust up once, twice—then buried deep and came. Groaned loud, spilling into her, pulse after pulse. She moaned at the feeling, rocking slow to milk every drop.
We stayed like that for a minute—her on top, me still inside, both breathing hard. She leaned down, kissed me soft this time. Sweaty forehead against mine.
“Worth every cent,” she murmured.
I laughed, breathless. “You’re gonna bankrupt me with more shopping trips like that.”
She kissed my nose. “I’ve got three more sets in the bag.”
She slid off me carefully, cum already starting to drip down her thigh. She didn’t bother wiping it—just lay beside me, one leg thrown over mine, head on my chest.
After a minute she lifted her head, chin on my shoulder, eyes soft but serious.
“Hey,” she whispered. “Can I tell you something?”
“Anything.”
She bit her lip, then smiled small. “I think I want a baby.”
I blinked. Turned my head to look at her properly. “Really? After all this time?”
“Yeah.” She traced my collarbone. “Her family’s been pushing forever, right? But I never wanted it because of them. I wanted it to be because of us. Tonight… wearing this, feeling you inside me, everything just clicked. I want our kid. With you.”
My heart did a weird flip. I pulled her closer, kissed her forehead. “You sure? We’ve been happy just us.”
“I’m sure.” She propped herself up on one elbow. “I’m 26 now. We’ve got the apartment, steady jobs. And I love you so much it hurts sometimes. I want to make a little person who looks like both of us. Who laughs like you when they’re sleepy.”
She paused, voice dropping. “We don’t have to rush. But… maybe we stop being careful tonight. Just see what happens.”
I searched her face. No doubt there. Just warmth. Want.
“Okay,” I said. “If you’re ready, I’m ready.”
Her smile got big. She rolled on top of me again, straddling my hips. The garters stretched tight across her thighs.
“Then let’s make sure,” she said, voice playful now. “One more round. Deep. No pulling out this time.”
I was already getting hard again just from her words. She felt it, grinned, reached down and stroked me slow.
“See? You want it too.”
She lifted up, guided me back inside her—still slick from before, warm and easy. We both sighed when I slid all the way in.
“Fuck, baby… you feel perfect,” I groaned.
She started moving, slow and deep this time. No rush. Hips rolling in that way she knows drives me crazy. Her hands on my chest, nails light.
“Imagine it,” she whispered, eyes half-closed. “Me getting round with our baby. You rubbing my belly. Us picking names in bed like this.”
I gripped her hips, thrust up gentle to meet her. “Boy or girl?”
“Doesn’t matter. As long as they’re ours.”
She leaned down, kissed me slow—tongue sliding against mine, breathing together. We rocked like that for long minutes, building steady. No loud moans this time. Just soft sounds, skin on skin, her breath in my ear.
“I love you,” she said against my mouth. “So much.”
“Love you more. Always.”
Her rhythm got a little faster. She clenched around me, close again.
“Come with me,” she breathed. “Inside. All the way.”
I held her tight, thrust deep, and let go. She came right after—quiet gasp, body shaking, milking me. I filled her again, pulse after pulse, imagining it taking root.
We stayed joined, her on my chest, breathing slow.
She kissed my jaw. “That felt different. Special.”
“Yeah.”
She smiled sleepy. “Maybe it worked. Maybe not. We’ll try again tomorrow if we have to.”
I laughed soft, wrapped my arms around her. “Every night. As many as it takes.”
She nuzzled closer, still in her red lingerie, garters tangled in the sheets.
Our future felt wide open now. Just us, plus maybe one more.
The glass doors of SM Entertainment’s headquarters slid open with a pneumatic hiss, severing the connection to the outside world. The lobby’s air conditioning was aggressive, a sterile chill that instantly dried the sweat on your neck—a violent shift from the suffocating humidity of the Seoul summer.
Against your chest, the plastic laminate of your new ID badge felt heavy, though it was still warm from the printer. You were twenty-two, fresh out of university, and officially a cog in the machine. Junior Assistant. The title was small, but the assignment was monumental: Red Velvet’s Irene. The name didn't just sit in your mind; it loomed. Bae Joohyun. The Original Visual. You were to be her shadow, her logistical anchor, the invisible hand ensuring her world remained perfect.
"You’re the new hire."
The voice cut through the ambient hum of the lobby. Ms. Kim, a woman with a ponytail so tight it looked painful and a clipboard wielded like a weapon, stood before you. Her heels clicked a military cadence on the marble as she approached.
You nodded, the word 'yes' dying in a dry throat.
"Good. Walk with me," she commanded, already turning around. "Irene-ssi’s schedule is relentless this week. She requires absolute precision. No room for error. No room for fatigue. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Ms. Kim. Perfectly."
The elevator ride was a vacuum of silence, the rapid ascent making your ears pop. Your stomach churned, a volatile cocktail of adrenaline and dread. This wasn't just a job; it was an ascension to Olympus. You had spent years admiring the cool, untouchable aura of Irene from a pixelated distance. Now, you were about to step behind the curtain, inches away from the unvarnished reality behind the perfection.
The elevator arrived at the fourth floor with a soft, melodious chime that felt mocking given the tension in your chest. The doors slid open, revealing a hallway that was a stark contrast to the quiet lobby downstairs. It was a hive of activity—stylists rushing with garment bags, producers arguing softly into phones, and the muffled thump of bass leaking from soundproofed doors.
Ms. Kim didn't offer any more advice. She didn't warn you about Irene’s temper or give you a list of do's and don'ts. She simply stepped out and checked her watch, her face setting into a mask of grim determination.
"Studio B," she said, the words clipped. "Stay close. If you fall behind, I’m not coming back for you."
She moved with a speed that defied her heels, weaving through the corridor traffic like a shark through water. You scrambled to keep pace, clutching your bag, your eyes fixed on the back of her blazer to avoid making accidental eye contact with anyone famous who might be passing by.
She stopped abruptly in front of a heavy black door at the end of the hall. There was no knock, no pause for breath. She swiped her keycard, the lock beeped green, and she shoved the door open.
Inside the room is a whirlwind of motion. The air here was heavy, humid with the collective body heat of people pushing their physical limits. The bass of the unreleased track wasn't just heard; it was felt, thumping through the floorboards and rattling the teeth in your jaw.
They moved with a terrifying synchronization, a single organism with many limbs. But in the center of the formation, serving as the gravitational pull for the chaos, was Irene.
She was mesmerizing. Her movements possessed a razor-sharp duality—hitting the beats with mechanical precision while maintaining a fluid, almost liquid grace that made the grueling choreography look effortless. Sweat slicked her hairline, catching the harsh studio lights like diamonds, but her expression was locked in a trance of absolute focus.
"Cut," Ms. Kim said, her voice sharp enough to slice through the wall of sound.
The choreographer, a lean man with eyes that seemed to track every mistake, killed the music instantly. The silence that followed was ringing and heavy, filled only by the harsh, synchronized panting of the members.
The formation broke. Irene froze mid-gesture, then slowly lowered her arms. She turned, her chest heaving rhythmically. For a split second, her gaze was unfocused, still trapped in the rhythm of the dance. Then, she blinked, and the idol mask slipped just enough to reveal the human beneath. Her dark, intelligent eyes swept over you, carrying a surprising warmth that contrasted the icy intensity of her performance just moments ago.
"Irene," Ms. Kim announced, her hand waving a dismissive, vague gesture in your direction, as if presenting a piece of office furniture. "This is your new assistant. He will be handling your daily logistics."
Irene reached up to wipe a stray lock of damp hair from her cheek. She didn't look at Ms. Kim; she looked at you.
"Hello," she said. Her voice was lower, raspy from exertion, and far softer than you expected—a gentle murmur against the studio’s hard edges. She offered a small smile, one that didn't quite reach her eyes but felt genuine in its politeness. "Welcome."
Your heart hammered against your ribs. "Thank you, Irene-ssi." The words tumbled out, your voice cracking into an embarrassingly high pitch that betrayed the knots in your stomach. "I—I’m honored to be working with you."
Irene held your gaze for a second longer, her expression softening as if she recognized the panic in your eyes. She nodded once, a slow, acknowledgment, before reaching for a towel.
Jaebin woke up later than usual. He stared at the ceiling for a full five minutes, replaying bits and pieces.
He sat up, rubbed his face hard.
“Enough,” he muttered. “Get out of the building for once.”
He needed normal. Coffee. People who didn’t live on the fourth floor. And maybe—just maybe—he wanted to see Chaeyeon again. Not in the hallway. Not by accident. On purpose.
She’d said her cafe was the one near the station. Cat logo. He remembered.
He showered fast, threw on jeans, a plain black t-shirt, sneakers. Grabbed his wallet and phone. Left the apartment before he could overthink it.
The walk took fifteen minutes. Cool air, busy sidewalks, the smell of street food vendors firing up for lunch. He found it easy—the sign was a cartoon cat with a coffee cup. “Meow Brew.” Small place, big windows, wooden tables inside.
He pushed the door open. Bell jingled.
Not too crowded. A couple of students at one table, an old guy reading a newspaper in the corner.
Behind the counter: Chaeyeon.
White apron tied around her waist. Same oversized t-shirt from yesterday, but now under the apron it looked even tighter. Her chest moved every time she reached for a cup or poured milk. Heavy. Slow bounce when she turned to grab beans from the shelf. The apron strings pulled across her back, making the fabric stretch more over her breasts.
Jaebin stood in the doorway longer than he meant to.
She looked up. Saw him.
“Jaebin!” she said, voice quiet but happy. “You came.”
He walked over, “Hey. Yeah. You said extra pretty hearts in the foam. Figured I’d test it.”
Chaeyeon laughed—soft, like always. “Sit anywhere. I’ll bring it over. What do you want?”
“Latte. Iced. Medium sweet.”
“Got it.”
He picked a table near the window. Not too close to the counter, but close enough he could still watch without being obvious. Or so he thought.
Chaeyeon worked fast. She pulled shots, steamed milk, poured with steady hands. Every time she leaned forward to draw the foam art, her breasts rested heavy on the edge of the counter for a second—pushing up, straining the t-shirt and apron. When she turned to grab syrup, they swayed side to side. Slow. Natural. Impossible to ignore.
Jaebin’s mouth went dry. He looked down at his phone. Opened a random app. Closed it. Looked again.
She was finishing his drink now. Picked up a small bottle of chocolate syrup, squeezed a tiny heart into the foam. Then another. Then a little cat face next to it. Cute. Perfect.
She walked over with the glass on a small tray. Set it down gently.
“Here. Latte with hearts and a cat. Hope it’s pretty enough.”
Jaebin looked up. Smiled. “It’s perfect. Thanks.”
She didn’t leave right away. Wiped her hands on the apron, then sat in the chair across from him. “It’s slow right now. Mind if I sit for a minute?”
“No. Please.”
She sat. Crossed her arms under her chest. Jaebin forced his eyes to her face.
“You okay?” she asked. “You look tired.”
“Long couple of days,” he admitted. “New place. Meeting everyone.”
Chaeyeon nodded slowly. “I’ve been here two years. Still get surprised sometimes.”
“Yeah?” He took a sip. Cold. Good. “Like what?”
She leaned in a little. Voice even softer. “Like how fast some girls move. Eunbi told us about last night. Said you helped her sober up.”
Jaebin almost choked on the coffee.
Chaeyeon patted his hand quick. “It’s okay. We talk. A lot. No secrets here. She said you were really sweet. Gentle.”
He rubbed his neck. “I just… didn’t want her to feel bad.”
“That’s why we like you.” She smiled again. “You’re not pushy. Not creepy. Just… normal. It’s nice.”
They sat quiet for a bit. She played with the edge of her apron. Her chest rose and fell with each breath. Jaebin tried not to stare. Failed a little.
Chaeyeon noticed. Didn’t seem mad. Just tilted her head.
“You keep looking,” she said quietly.
“Sorry. I—”
“It’s okay.” She uncrossed her arms, let them rest on the table. “They’re big. I know. People stare all the time. Customers. Coworkers. I’m used to it.”
“Still rude.”
“A little.” She shrugged. “But you don’t make it weird. You blush instead. That’s cute.”
Jaebin laughed—awkward, real. “I blush at everything here.”
“I noticed.” She glanced around the cafe—still empty. Then back at him. “You can look if you want. Here. No one else is watching.”
His heart skipped.
She leaned forward just a fraction more. Elbows on the table. Chest pushed together, cleavage deep and soft-looking under the apron edge.
Jaebin stared. Couldn’t help it. They were massive—round, full, the t-shirt fabric clinging in all the right places. He could see the faint outline of her bra now that she was closer. Simple white one. Practical. But still struggling.
Chaeyeon watched him watch her. No teasing. Just calm.
“Feel better?” she asked after a minute.
“A little embarrassed,” he admitted.
“Don’t be.” She sat back. “I like when people are honest about it. Makes me feel… wanted. Not just stared at.”
Jaebin took another sip. “You’re really nice, Chaeyeon.”
“You too.” She stood up slow, walked back to the counter. Jaebin watched her go. Watched her reach up for a new bag of beans, watched her bend to wipe the steamer—everything pressing forward.
Jaebin was almost done with his iced latte. The cat foam art had mostly melted into a cute brown swirl at the bottom of the glass.
The bell above the door jingled.
A girl walked in—tall, athletic build, dark hair pulled into a messy bun, wearing a plain navy polo shirt tucked into black work pants, name tag pinned crooked on her chest. “Natty – Warehouse Admin.” She looked tired, like someone who’d been on her feet since early morning. Her polo stretched tight across a full, round bust—bigger than average.
She scanned the room quick, eyes landing on Chaeyeon first. Then on Jaebin.
A grin spread across her face—sharp, confident.
She walked straight over to their table.
“Chaeyeon-ah!” Natty said, voice bright but a little rough from talking over machinery all morning. “And the famous new neighbor. Jaebin, right?”
Jaebin straightened up. “Uh… yeah. Hi.”
Chaeyeon turned from the counter, wiping her hands on her apron. “Natty-unnie! Lunch break already?”
“Finally. Starving.” Natty pulled out the chair next to Jaebin without asking and dropped into it. “I only get forty minutes today. Boss is on a rampage. Thought I’d grab a sandwich and say hi.”
Chaeyeon smiled. “I’ll make you the usual. Tuna melt?”
“Yes please. Extra cheese.” Natty turned to Jaebin. “So. You’re the guy everyone’s talking about. Moved in two days ago and already got half the floor.”
Jaebin laughed nervously. “Is that good or bad?”
“Mostly good.” Natty leaned back, arms crossing under her chest—making everything lift noticeably. “Jihyo said you’re polite. Yel said you’re a good jogging partner. Eunbi… well, Eunbi said a lot. In detail.”
Jaebin’s face went red again. “She talks fast.”
Natty laughed—loud, real. “She does. Don’t worry. We’re not judging. We just like fresh blood. Makes things interesting.”
Chaeyeon came back with Natty’s sandwich on a plate and a bottle of water. Set them down. “Here. Eat quick or you’ll be late.”
“Thanks, Chae.” Natty took a big bite, chewed, then pointed at Jaebin with the sandwich. “So what’s your deal? Gap year? Job hunting? Or just hiding from nine crazy girls?”
“Trying to find part-time work. Not hiding exactly.” Jaebin said.
Natty nodded. “Fair.” She took another bite. “I’m twenty-four. Been at the warehouse two years—admin stuff, inventory, scheduling drivers. Boring on paper, but pays okay and the gym’s free. I lift boxes all day, so I stay in shape.”
Jaebin glanced at her arms—toned, not bulky. Made sense. “Sounds tough.”
“It is. Back hurts sometimes. Feet too. But I like the routine. Keeps me from going soft.” She flexed one arm playfully. Then grinned. “And it helps with… other things. Stamina.”
Chaeyeon rolled her eyes from behind the counter. “Unnie.”
“What? I’m just saying.” Natty winked at Jaebin. “If you ever need a workout buddy who won’t go easy on you, knock on 401. I’m the one at the end of the hall. Door’s always unlocked when I’m home.”
They chatted a little more—Natty complaining about a new supervisor who kept changing shift schedules, Chaeyeon laughing softly and refilling Jaebin’s water even though he didn’t ask.
Natty finished her sandwich fast, crumpled the napkin, checked her phone.
“Shit. Ten minutes left. Gotta run.” She stood up. Breasts bounced once under the polo when she stretched. “Good meeting you properly, Jaebin. Don’t be a stranger. And tell Yel I said hi—she owes me ramyeon.”
“Will do.”
Natty gave Chaeyeon a quick side hug over the counter—careful not to spill anything—then turned to Jaebin. “You heading back now?”
“Yeah. Probably.”
“Walk with me partway? I go the same direction until the station.”
“Sure.”
Chaeyeon waved from behind the counter. “Come back soon, Jaebin. I’ll save you a cat latte.”
He smiled. “Deal.”
Outside, the sun was higher now. Warm on their skin. Natty walked fast, Jaebin kept pace.
“So,” she said after a block. “You settling in okay? No regrets yet?”
“Regrets? Not really. It’s… intense. But not bad.”
Natty nodded. “That’s the fourth floor for you. Intense is the baseline.” She glanced sideways at him. “If it ever gets too much, come find me. I’m good at listening. Or distracting. Whichever you need.”
Jaebin laughed quietly. “Thanks. I might take you up on that.”
They reached the corner where the paths split—her back toward the industrial area near the warehouse, him toward the apartment.
Natty stopped. Turned to face him.
“See you around, new guy.” She reached out, patted his shoulder once, “Don’t let the girls break you too fast.”
“I’ll try.”
She grinned. “Good luck,” then she jogged off.
Jaebin watched her go for a second. Then turned toward apartment.
He turned into the apartment’s underground parking lot to cut through to the stairs. Cooler down here, smell of concrete and old oil. A few cars parked crooked, motorcycles lined up against the wall.
Then he saw her.
A girl near the elevator doors, struggling with four heavy tote bags. One slipped from her grip, spilling apples, a pack of toilet paper, and a couple of ramyeon packs across the ground.
She cursed under her breath and bent to pick them up. Sweat soaked the back of her light pink t-shirt, making it cling dark in patches. Her shorts were riding up from all the bending. Long brown hair stuck to her neck and shoulders. She looked exhausted, flushed, breathing hard.
Jaebin jogged over without thinking.
“Hey—need help?”
She looked up. Face round and pretty, big eyes, small nose, lips full. Sweat beaded on her forehead and upper lip. Twenty-three, he guessed later. Chowon.
She blinked, surprised. Then smiled—tired but genuine.
“Oh… yeah. Please. These are heavier than I thought.”
Jaebin grabbed two of the totes before they could fall again. Plastic handles dug into his palms—cans, bottles, vegetables, something frozen leaking cold through the bottom.
“I’m Jaebin. 403.”
“Chowon. 409.” She straightened up, wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. “Thanks. I went grocery shopping after class. Forgot how far the walk is when it’s this hot.”
“No problem. I’ll help carry them up.”
She nodded gratefully. “Elevator’s this way.”
They walked side by side. Her breathing was still heavy, chest rising and falling fast. Sweat trickled down the side of her neck, disappeared into her cleavage.
Jaebin tried not to stare. The way her shirt stuck to her skin, outlining every curve, the faint scent of her sweat mixed with something sweet like body lotion—it hit him hard. His cock stirred in his jeans, thickening against the zipper. He shifted the bags to hide it.
Elevator dinged. They stepped in. Small space. Her arm brushed his. Warm skin.
Fourth floor.
Hallway quiet. She led the way to 409, unlocked the door with shaky fingers.
“Come in,” she said. “Just put them on the kitchen counter. I’ll sort later.”
Jaebin followed her inside. Her room was brighter than his—white curtains, plants on the windowsill, fairy lights strung along one wall. Smelled clean, like laundry and vanilla candle.
He set the bags down. Turned.
Chowon was already pulling her soaked t-shirt over her head.
She tossed it into a laundry basket in the corner. Standing there in just a white sports bra and shorts. Bra soaked too—almost see-through now. Breasts heavy, nipples dark and hard from the AC hitting wet skin. Sweat glistened on her stomach, between her breasts, down her sides.
Jaebin froze. Cock fully hard now, straining painfully.
Chowon noticed. Looked down at the obvious bulge in his jeans. Then back up at his face.
She smiled—slow, a little shy, a little bold.
“You’re… affected,” she said quietly.
“Sorry,” he muttered. “It’s just… yeah.”
She stepped closer. Close enough he could feel the heat coming off her skin.
“Don’t apologize.” Her voice was soft, breathy.
She reached out. Palm flat on his chest first. Then lower. Cupped him through his jeans.
Jaebin hissed.
Chowon’s fingers worked the button open. Zipper down slow. She tugged his jeans and boxers low enough to free him. Cock sprang out—hard, leaking at the tip.
She wrapped her hand around him. Small fingers, warm from carrying bags. She stroked once—slow, firm.
“Feels good?” she asked.
“Yeah,” he breathed.
She pumped faster. Thumb circling the head, spreading the precum. Her other hand cupped his balls gently, rolling them.
Jaebin leaned back against the counter for support. Eyes locked on her—sweat still dripping down her neck, sports bra clinging, breasts bouncing lightly with each stroke.
“You helped me,” she whispered. “Let me help you.”
She sped up. Tight grip. Twist at the top. Jaebin groaned low.
“Chowon—”
“Come for me,” she said. Voice husky now. “Right here.”
He did.
Fast. Hard. Thick ropes shot across her stomach, splattered on the sports bra, dripped down her abs. She kept stroking through it—milking every pulse until he was twitching, oversensitive.
When he finished, she let go slow. Looked down at the mess on her skin. Smiled.
“Better?”
Jaebin nodded. Legs shaky. “Way better.”
Chowon grabbed a tissue from the counter, wiped herself casually. Then him. Gentle.
“Thanks for the help with the bags,” she said. Like nothing happened.
He laughed—breathless. “Anytime.”
She pulled her t-shirt back on over the bra—didn’t bother changing. Walked him to the door.
“If you ever want to… carry more bags,” she said, teasing. “Or just come over… knock.”
Jaebin nodded. “I will.”
She opened the door. Leaned in. Kissed his cheek once—soft, sweaty lips.
“Nice to meet you, Jaebin.”
Door closed.
He stood in the hallway a second. Jeans still half-open. Heart pounding. He took a deep breath, trying to shake off, and started walking toward his door.
The elevator dinged behind him.
He glanced back out of habit.
A girl stepped out.
Swan.
Twenty-three, black crop top that ended right under her ribs, high-waisted denim shorts hugging wide hips and thick thighs that looked strong enough to crush something if she wanted. And her breasts—big. Same league as Chaeyeon’s, full, round, sitting high and heavy even without a visible bra line.
She carried a small gym bag slung over one shoulder. Earbuds dangling from her neck. Expression already annoyed before she even saw him.
Swan’s eyes flicked up. Locked on Jaebin.
She stopped walking.
“Who the fuck are you staring at?” Her voice came out sharp—mean, clipped, like she’d already decided he was wasting her time.
Jaebin blinked. “I—uh—sorry. Just… coming from Chowon’s. Helping with groceries.”
Swan snorted. Dropped her gym bag on the floor with a thud. Crossed her arms under her chest—making everything lift and push forward even more.
Jaebin’s eyes dropped for half a second before he forced them back to her face.
“Eyes up, new guy,” she snapped. “You think I don’t notice when guys like you turn into drooling idiots the second they see tits?”
He felt his face burn. “I wasn’t—”
“You were.” She stepped closer. Hips swaying with that natural curve that made her shorts ride up higher on her thighs. “Let me guess. You’ve already fucked half the floor and now you’re collecting the rest like Pokémon cards?”
“No. That’s not—”
“Save it.” She tilted her head, looking him up and down like she was judging livestock. “Jaebin, right? The nineteen-year-old gap-year baby who moved in and immediately got his dick wet with Eunbi. Then Jeewon. Then who knows what else.”
Jaebin swallowed. “It’s not like that. I’m not—”
“Not collecting?” She laughed—short, cold. “Bullshit. You’re walking out of Chowon’s room looking like you just came in your pants. Which, judging by the wet spot on your jeans, you probably did.”
He looked down. Fuck. There was a small dark patch near the zipper. He shifted his stance to hide it.
Swan’s lips curled. “Pathetic. And yet… kind of hot how easy you are.”
Jaebin stared at her. “What?”
She stepped even closer. Close enough he could smell her—sweat, faint citrus body spray, something sharp and expensive. Her breasts were almost brushing his chest now. He could feel the heat coming off her skin.
“I said it’s hot,” she repeated, slower, meaner. “You get hard just looking. You help Chowon with bags and she jerks you off like a reward. You probably popped in fifteen seconds like you did with Eunbi. Am I right?”
He didn’t answer. Couldn’t.
Swan reached out. Grabbed the front of his t-shirt and yanked him forward a little.
“Answer me.”
“…Yeah,” he muttered.
She smirked. “Knew it.” Her hand slid down—bold, no hesitation—palmed him through the jeans. He was already half-hard again from the sharpness in her voice, the way her thighs pressed together when she shifted weight.
“Still sensitive?” she asked. Voice low now. Mocking.
“A little.”
She squeezed once—firm enough to make him hiss—then let go. “Maybe I’ll use that later. When I feel like it. Not today. I’m sweaty, I’m pissed, and I need a shower. Not some quick hallway handy from the floor slut.”
Jaebin’s cock twitched at the words. He hated how much it turned him on.
Swan noticed. Rolled her eyes. “God, you’re hopeless.”
She bent down to pick up her gym bag—full ass cheeks on display for a second, thighs flexing. Jaebin stared. Couldn’t stop.
She straightened. Caught him.
“Keep looking and I’ll make you regret it,” she said. But there was a glint in her eye—something hungry under the meanness.
She walked past him. Hips swaying deliberately. Thighs rubbing together with each step.
At her door—410, right next to Chowon’s—she paused. Turned back.
“Hey, baby boy.”
Jaebin looked up.
“If you’re good… and you don’t cum in your pants just from me talking shit to you… maybe I’ll let you eat me out sometime. I like it rough. And I bite back.”
She opened her door.
“Think about it.”
The door slammed shut.
Jaebin stood there alone in the hallway.
Breathing hard.
Cock throbbing painfully against his zipper again.
He leaned his forehead against the wall for a second.
“Fuck,” he whispered. Swan had just turned the entire floor upside down with one conversation.
He dragged himself the last few steps to 403, his room
Locked the door.
Collapsed on the bed.
Stared at the ceiling.
The mean ones were always the most dangerous.
And he was already thinking about knocking on 410.
Evening, 7:55 PM
Jaebin is scrolling through nothing on his bed, trying to shake the things off his mind for what happened this day.
A soft knock. Two taps, polite.
He stood up fast. “Yeah?”
The door opened a crack. Jihyo slipped in.
She looked different tonight. Black lace dress—sleeveless, knee-length but tight enough to hug every curve. The lace pattern was see-through in places, especially over her chest where her bra (or lack of one) showed through faintly. She’d just come home; her hair was a little messy from the wind, cheeks still pink from the walk. She carried a small paper bag in one hand.
“Hey, neighbor,” she said, closing the door behind her with her hip. Voice warm, like always, but there was something heavier in her eyes tonight. “Mind if I visit for a bit?”
Jaebin blinked. “No, of course not. Come in.”
She walked over, heels clicking softly on the floor. Set the paper bag on his tiny kitchen counter. Then turned to face him fully.
“How are you holding up?” she asked. “Day three already. You still alive?”
“Barely,” he admitted with a small laugh. “It’s… a lot.”
Jihyo smiled—gentle, understanding. “I know. We can be overwhelming.” She glanced around his room. “You unpacked more. Looks nice. Did you do laundry yet? I heard the machine downstairs was free this afternoon.”
“Not yet,” he said. “I keep forgetting.”
She nodded like that was normal. Then her eyes landed on the laundry basket in the corner—half-full, mostly t-shirts and shorts, but a few pairs of boxers on top.
Without asking, she walked over and picked up one of the boxers. Black cotton, worn but clean-ish. She brought it to her nose. Inhaled slow. Deep.
Jaebin’s stomach flipped.
Jihyo’s eyes closed for a second. When she opened them again, they were darker.
“It’s been a long time since I smelled a guy like this,” she said quietly. “Since I… did anything.”
Jaebin swallowed hard. “Jihyo…”
She dropped the boxers back in the basket. Turned to him. Stepped closer.
“I’m twenty-nine,” she said, like it was a confession. “Most girls my age have someone steady. Or at least regular. I don’t. Work keeps me late. This building keeps me busy taking care of everyone else. But lately…”
She reached into the paper bag, pulled out a small foil packet. Condom. Held it up between two fingers. “I brought this. Just in case.”
Jaebin’s face went hot. Burning. He stood there like a deer caught in headlights—and Jihyo was the headlights.
She closed the distance. One hand on his cheek. Soft. Warm. “But if you want… I want.”
She leaned in. Kissed him.
Slow at first. Lips soft, tasting faintly of the mint gum she always chewed after work. Then deeper. Her tongue brushed his. Jaebin’s hands found her waist automatically—thin lace under his palms, her body warm and real.
She pulled back just enough to breathe. “Sit.”
He sat on the edge of the bed. Legs shaky.
Jihyo knelt between his knees. She unzipped his jeans with steady fingers. Pulled his cock out—already hard, aching from the day’s teasing.
She looked up at him. “You’re so cute when you’re nervous.”
Then she took him in her mouth.
Warm. Wet. Slow slide down. Tongue flat against the underside. Jaebin groaned low, hand going to her hair without thinking. She hummed around him—made his hips twitch.
She worked him steady. Not rushed. Deep enough to make him see stars, then back up to tease the head with soft licks. One hand stroked the base. The other rested on his thigh, thumb rubbing circles.
Jaebin’s breathing turned ragged. “Jihyo… I’m—”
She pulled off with a soft pop. Looked up. Lips shiny.
“Not yet.” She stood. Reached behind her back. Unzipped the lace dress. Let it fall to the floor in a black puddle. Black lace panties. No bra. Breasts full and heavy, nipples dark and tight from the cool air.
She climbed onto his lap. Straddled him. Kissed him again—deeper this time. Her breasts pressed against his chest through his t-shirt.
She tore the condom packet open with her teeth. Rolled it down on his cock slow. Careful. Made sure it was secure.
Then she lifted her hips. Lined him up. Sank down inch by inch.
Both of them groaned at the same time.
Tight. Hot. Perfect.
Jihyo started moving—slow rolls at first. Hands on his shoulders for balance. Breasts bouncing gently with each motion. Jaebin’s hands went to her hips. Then up to cup her breasts. Heavy. Soft. He squeezed. She moaned louder.
“Move,” she whispered against his mouth. “Please.”
He thrust up to meet her. Deeper.
She rode him harder. Head tipping back. Hair falling over her shoulders. Moans turning into gasps.
Jaebin felt it building—too fast, too much after the whole day.
“Jihyo—I can’t—gonna—”
“Don’t pull out,” she panted. “Stay inside. The condom’s there. Just… let go.”
He did.
Thrust up hard once, twice. Came with a choked groan—thick pulses into the condom. Body shaking. Hands gripping her hips so tight he’d probably leave marks.
Jihyo kept moving through it—slow grinds, milking him until he was twitching and oversensitive.
When he finally stopped pulsing, she slowed. Leaned her forehead against his. Both breathing hard.
She kissed him softly. Once. Twice.
“Good boy,” she murmured.
She lifted off him carefully. Tied the condom. Dropped it in the trash by the bed.
Then she lay down beside him. Curled into his side—head on his chest.
“I’m staying for a bit,” she said quietly. “If that’s okay.”
“Yeah,” he whispered. “More than okay.”
Next morning, around 6:05 AM.
Jaebin’s alarm hadn’t even gone off yet. He was half-awake, tangled in the sheet, still smelling Jihyo’s perfume on the pillow from last night. She’d left around 2 AM after they talked for a while— he’d fallen asleep thinking about her slow kisses, the way she’d held him like she needed it as much as he did.
A gentle knock on his room.
He rubbed his eyes, sat up in just his boxers. “Yeah?”
The door opened a crack.
Chaeyeon peeked in.
White tight tank top that looked painted on, thin straps digging into her shoulders stretched so tight across her chest. Over it, a loose beige cardigan—open all the way, sleeves pushed up, doing absolutely nothing to hide how full and heavy her breasts were. They swayed gently when she stepped inside carrying a small plastic basket full of wet laundry.
“Morning,” she said softly, voice still sleepy. “Sorry it’s so early. My balcony’s full again… too many uniforms from work. Can I hang some here? Yours has more space and better sun in the morning.”
Jaebin blinked, brain catching up. “Uh—yeah. Sure. Come in.”
She smiled—small, grateful—and walked to the tiny balcony door.
Jaebin sat on the edge of the bed, legs apart, trying to act normal, but eyes watched her the whole way.
The cardigan flapped open with every step, tank top clinging, nipples faintly visible through the white cotton because she clearly hadn’t bothered with a bra yet. Her breasts bounced lightly when she bent to set the basket down, then again when she reached up to clip the first wet shirt to the line he’d strung across the railing last week.
Every time she stretched—arms up to pin a towel, back arched, chest pushing forward—his cock twitched. By the third pair of shorts she hung, he was fully hard under the thin sheet he’d pulled over his lap.
Chaeyeon finished the last sock. Turned around.
Caught him staring.
Her eyes dropped to the obvious tent in the sheet. Then back to his face.
She didn’t say anything at first. Just walked over slow. The cardigan swayed open wider. Breasts shifting with each step.
She stopped right in front of him.
“You’re hard,” she whispered. Not teasing. Just stating it. Soft. Curious.
Jaebin’s face burned. “Sorry. You… look really good right now.”
Chaeyeon bit her lip once. Then reached down, took both his hands, and pulled him to sit properly at the very edge of the bed—legs spread, sheet falling away.
She knelt between his knees. Looked up at him with those big, calm eyes.
“I can help,” she said quietly. “If you want.”
Chaeyeon tugged his boxers down. His cock sprang free—hard, leaking already. She wrapped one soft hand around the base. Stroked once, slow. Then leaned in.
Her mouth was warm. Gentle. She took him in halfway, tongue swirling lazy circles around the head.
Jaebin groaned low, hand going to her hair—careful, not pulling.
She sucked slow. Deep. No rush. Just steady, wet heat. Every time she pulled back, she let spit drip down his length, used it to stroke faster.
Jaebin’s hips twitched. “Chaeyeon…”
She pulled off with a soft pop. Stood up.
“Turn around,” she whispered. “Sit back against me.”
He shifted—scooted back so his back pressed against her front.
She sat behind him on the bed, legs on either side of his hips. Twirls them to lock him. Her breasts pressed heavy against his back through the thin tank top.
She reached around from behind. One arm wrapped across his chest, hand loop around pressing flat to his chest. The other hand found his cock again—stroking slow, firm.
Her lips brushed his ear.
“Look at me,” she murmured.
He turned his head. She leaned forward just enough so one breast pressed against his cheek. Then the other. The tank top was so thin he could feel her nipple harden against his skin.
“Suck,” she whispered. “Please.”
Jaebin turned more. Took one nipple into his mouth through the tank top. Sucked gently. Fabric got wet fast. She moaned low—soft, needy sound right in his ear.
“Good boy,” she breathed. Hand speeding up on his cock. “Suck harder. Bite a little if you want.”
He did. Teeth grazing through cotton. Tongue flicking. She arched into him, breasts pressing tighter against his face.
“Fuck… just like that,” she whispered. “You like my tits this much? Been staring since the cafe yesterday, right? I saw you. Every time I bent over… you couldn’t look away.”
Jaebin groaned against her chest. Hips bucking into her hand.
“They’re so heavy,” she continued, voice husky now. “Always make my back hurt. But I like when you look. Makes me feel… wanted. Makes me wet.”
Her hand twisted at the head. Thumb rubbing the slit.
“Come for me, Jaebin,” she whispered right against his ear. “Come while you’re sucking my tits. Let it out. I want to feel you shake.”
He couldn’t hold it.
Mouth full of her breast—he came hard. Cums spilling over her fingers, dripping down his stomach. Body jerking against her. She kept stroking through it—slow, gentle squeezes—milking every drop while she rocked her chest against his face.
When he finally stopped pulsing, she slowed her hand. Kissed the side of his neck once. Soft.
“Good boy,” she murmured again.
She let him go carefully. Grabbed tissues from the nightstand, wiped him clean. Then herself. Pulled the tank top down—wet spots dark now, nipples still hard and obvious.
Chaeyeon stood. Fixed her cardigan—still useless at hiding anything. Smiled down at him—sweet, calm, like she hadn’t just jerked him off while whispering filthy things.
“Thanks for letting me use your balcony,” she said softly. “And… for this.”
Jaebin could only nod. Brain fried.
She leaned down. Kissed his forehead once.
“See you later. Have a good day.”
She walked to the door. Paused.
“If you ever want… more than just looking,” she said quietly, “just knock. I’m home most evenings.”
The door clicked shut.
Jaebin lay back on the bed. Chest heaving.
Barely six in the morning.
And already he felt like he’d never catch his breath on this floor.
6:48AM.
Jaebin had barely caught his breath from Chaeyeon’s visit when his phone buzzed. Yel’s name on the screen.
Yel: Jog? Same time. Don’t flake.
He smiled despite the exhaustion. Typed back fast: Coming.
He pulled on shorts, hoodie, sneakers. Quietly left the room. The hallway was still dark—only a few lights on. No one else stirring yet.
Downstairs, Yel was already stretching against the lobby wall. Black sports bra and leggings. She looked up when he came out.
“Morning, little bro,” she said, grinning. “You look like you got zero sleep.”
“Long night,” he admitted. Didn’t elaborate.
She raised an eyebrow but didn’t push. “Let’s run. I need to burn off yesterday’s deadline stress.”
They started easy—same park loop as before. Air crisp, sun just peeking over buildings. Yel kept pace beside him, breathing steady. After the first lap she spoke.
“You’re quieter today. Everything okay?”
“Yeah. Just… adjusting.” He laughed once. “This floor is a lot.”
Yel smirked. “Told you. But you’re still here. Means you like it.”
“Maybe.”
They did three loops. Sweaty, legs burning in a good way. When they slowed to walk, Yel bumped his shoulder.
“Breakfast after? My treat. There’s a cheap kimbap place near the station. I’m starving.”
Jaebin nodded. “Sounds good.”
They grabbed triangle kimbap, hotteok, and iced coffee from a small stall. Sat on a bench outside, eating in comfortable silence at first.
Yel finished her kimbap first. Wiped her hands. “So… any job leads yet?”
“Applied to a few cafés and delivery gigs last night. Waiting.”
“Good. Don’t rush. But don’t slack either.” She looked at him sideways. “You’re doing fine, you know. Most guys would’ve run screaming by now.”
He smiled. “Thanks. Means a lot coming from you.”
She ruffled his hair—habit now. “Anytime, dongsaeng.”
They walked back slowly. Reached the apartment at 8:30 a.m. on the dot.
“See you later?” she asked at the elevator.
“Yeah. Thanks for the run. And breakfast.”
She saluted lazily. “Don’t be a stranger.”
Jaebin went straight to his room. Stripped, showered hot—water pounding away the sweat and the morning’s memories. Chaeyeon’s whispers still echoed in his head. Jihyo’s slow kisses from last night. He dried off, threw on clean jeans and a plain t-shirt, sat at the desk with his laptop.
Job applications. He opened the browser, refreshed his email. Nothing new yet. Started filling out another form—part-time stock clerk at a small mart. Typed slowly, double-checking everything.
A knock at the door. Sharp. Three quick raps.
He opened it.
Natty.
Still in her warehouse polo—navy blue, name tag crooked. Hair in a tight ponytail. She looked like she’d already been on shift for hours, but her eyes were bright.
“Hey, new guy,” she said. “Got a minute?”
“Yeah. Come in.”
She stepped inside. Closed the door. Looked around quick—saw the laptop open.
“Job hunting?”
“Trying.”
Natty grinned. “Perfect timing. There’s an opening today. Daily helper at the warehouse. Cash pay, 10 a.m. to 6 p.m. Nothing fancy—moving boxes, sorting inventory, helping with shipments. Boss needs someone ASAP because one guy called in sick. I put in a word for you last night after the cafe.”
Jaebin blinked. “Seriously?”
“Yeah. You’re young, look strong enough, and you’re not a flake. They’ll take you on trial today. If it works, maybe more shifts.”
He stood up. Heart picking up. “That’s… awesome. Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet. It’s hard work. Heavy lifting. Dusty. But pays decent for a day—80,000 won cash at the end.”
“I’ll take it.”
Natty nodded. “Good. Shift starts at 10. I can give you a ride—my bike downstairs. Faster than bus.”
Jaebin hesitated. “I can go alone. Don’t want to trouble you. We’ll meet there?”
She studied him for a second. Then shrugged. “Suit yourself. But don’t be late. Boss hates that. Address is on this.” She pulled a folded paper from her pocket—warehouse location scribbled in pen, plus a rough map.
He took it. “Got it. Thanks, Natty. Really.”
She smirked. “Don’t fuck it up. And if you do good today… maybe I’ll buy you ramyeon after shift. As a welcome-to-work treat.”
Jaebin laughed. “Deal.”
Natty turned to leave. Paused at the door.
“Oh—and if you survive the day without dropping anything on your foot… maybe I’ll let you carry my bags sometime.” She winked—quick, playful. “See you at 10.”
The door clicked shut.
Jaebin looked at the clock. 8:50 a.m.
First real job lead since moving in.
Jaebin changed into his sturdiest clothes—old cargo pants, a plain gray t-shirt that could get dirty, and the worn sneakers he usually saved for bad weather.
He grabbed a small backpack with water bottle, phone charger, and a spare mask just in case. Checked the time: 9:20 a.m. Plenty of buffer.
He headed downstairs. The lobby was quiet except for the security guard nodding hello. Outside, the sun was already climbing, heat building on the asphalt.
Natty was waiting near the motorcycle parking spots in. She leaned against it, helmet tucked under one arm, still in her navy warehouse polo and black pants. A few strands had escaped her ponytail from the morning ride.
“You made it,” she said, pushing off the bike. “Good. I was half-expecting you to oversleep after whatever chaos happened on the fourth floor last night.”
Jaebin laughed awkwardly. “I’m up. Promise.”
Natty eyed him up and down—quick, appraising. “You look ready. That’s half the battle.”
“I’m heading out now. You sure you don’t want the ride? It’s twenty minutes by bus, ten on this thing.”
“I’m good,” he said. “Bus is fine. Don’t want to make you late.”
She shrugged. “Suit yourself. But when you get there, don’t go straight inside. Wait at the assembly point—right in front of the main gate. There’s a yellow line painted on the ground. Another daily helper is starting today too. They’ll group you both for briefing at 10 sharp.”
“Got it.”
Natty pulled her helmet on, visor up. “Boss is Kim—short guy, glasses, always yelling but fair. Don’t talk back, work hard, and you’ll be fine. See you inside.”
She swung a leg over the scooter, kicked it to life. Engine growled low.
“Try not to drop anything on your foot,” she called over the noise. “I’d hate to carry you home.”
Jaebin grinned nerves. “I’ll try.”
She gave a quick thumbs-up, visor down, and pulled out of the garage with a small wave.
Jaebin watched her go, then headed for the bus stop two blocks away.
The ride was bumpy—crowded morning commute, standing room only.
Bus stopped at the industrial area. Warehouses lined the street—gray concrete boxes, chain-link fences, loading docks buzzing with forklifts.
Jaebin got off, followed the signs to “Main Gate – PT LogiTrans.”
He found the yellow line easily, a faded strip of paint in front of a tall metal gate.
A guy about his age was already waiting—tall, black cap pulled low, earbuds in. He nodded once when Jaebin approached. Jaebin nodded back. Neither spoke. Both just stood there, shifting weight, waiting.
At 9:58 a.m., the gate rattled open.
A short man in a blue company vest—glasses, clipboard, permanent frown—stepped out.
“Daily helpers?” he barked.
Both raised hands.
“Follow me. Briefing now.”
They walked single file through the gate, past stacks of pallets and humming conveyor belts.
Inside the small break room—plastic chairs, vending machine, whiteboard—the man pointed.
“Sit.”
They sat.
Three minutes later, Natty slipped in through the side door. She’d changed into a high-vis vest over her polo. She took the seat directly across from Jaebin, gave him a small, private smirk, then looked forward like she hadn’t.
The boss—Kim—cleared his throat.
“Listen up. You two are trial today. No screw-ups. Jaebin, right?” He glanced at the clipboard. “And Namhee.”
Both nodded.
“Rules, safety first—hard hat, vest, gloves at all times. No phone on the floor unless break. No smoking inside. Follow orders from full-timers. Lift with your legs, not your back. If you drop something, report it. If you get hurt, report it. If you slack, you’re gone. Any questions?”
Silence.
“Good.” Kim pointed at a map on the whiteboard. “Today: inbound shipment. 400 boxes from Busan. Sort by zone—A through F. Stack on pallets. Natty will show you the zones and pair you with a senior for the first hour. After that, you’re on your own. Lunch at 12:30, thirty minutes. Finish at 6. Cash at end of shift if you don’t die.”
He looked at them both. “Any problems?”
“No, sir,” Jaebin said.
Namhee shook his head.
Kim grunted. “Out.”
They filed out.
Natty fell into step beside Jaebin as they walked toward the main floor.
They reached the loading dock. Forklifts beeped, workers shouted codes. Natty handed him a hard hat and gloves from a rack.
“Put these on. And try to keep up.”
She turned to lead him toward the incoming pallets.
First real job.
First day outside the apartment bubble.
And Natty was right there—watching, making sure he didn’t crash and burn.
He pulled on the hard hat.
Adjusted the gloves.
Took a breath.
Time to work.
The first few hours went smoother than Jaebin expected.
He followed every order from the senior full-timer—a stocky guy named Donghoon who barked instructions but never yelled without reason. “Stack A-zone pallets three high, no leaning. Use the hand truck for the heavy ones. Don’t drag boxes—lift.”
Jaebin did exactly that. No dropped shipments, no complaints. By lunch he’d already earned a quick “Not bad, kid” from Donghoon.
Lunch break at 12:30 was in the break room—plastic tables, vending machine coffee that tasted like burnt rubber. Jaebin sat with Namhee and two older full-timers. They ate cup ramyeon and kimbap from the convenience store next door.
One of the older guys—graying hair, missing one front tooth—pointed his chopsticks at Jaebin.
“You the new one Natty recommended?”
Jaebin paused mid-bite. “Yeah. She told me about the slot this morning.”
Toothless guy laughed. “Figures. Natty’s got a soft spot for fresh faces. She put your name on the list last night after shift. Said you’re reliable. We don’t get many like that on trial days.”
Donghoon looked up from his phone. “She’s scary when she’s mad, though. Don’t piss her off.”
Jaebin smiled small. “Noted.”
The rest of lunch passed with small talk—sports, weather, complaints about the new forklift driver who kept backing into pallets. Jaebin stayed quiet mostly, just listened. Felt good to be somewhere normal for a few hours. Just work.
The afternoon dragged a little—more inbound boxes, sorting, taping, moving. Sweat soaked his t-shirt. Dust stuck to his arms. But he kept pace. No mistakes.
At 5:00 p.m.—one hour left—Donghoon clapped him on the shoulder.
“Back area needs cleanup. Cardboard pile’s gotten out of hand. Flatten it all, stack neat by the compactor. You’re on it alone—no one else goes back there much. Finish by six and you’re done.”
Jaebin nodded. “Got it.”
The back of the warehouse was quieter. Dimmer lights, stacks of empty pallets, a mountain of flattened cardboard boxes waiting to be bundled. Dust floated in the air. The compactor hummed low in the corner. Almost no one came here unless ordered.
Jaebin pulled on fresh gloves, started breaking down the pile. Rip, fold, stack. Rip, fold, stack. Sweat dripped down his back. The work was mindless—good after the morning’s focus.
He was halfway through when he heard footsteps behind him.
Natty.
She stepped closer.
“Checking on you,” she said. Voice low. “Making sure you didn’t bury yourself under cardboard.”
Jaebin wiped his forehead with his sleeve. “Almost done. No burials yet.”
She walked closer. Looked around—no one else back here. The main floor noise was distant, muffled by walls and machinery.
“Good.” She stopped right in front of him. Reached up, tugged his hard hat off gently. Set it on a nearby pallet. “You did well today. Heard Donghoon say you’re quick. Boss is happy.”
Jaebin’s heart picked up. “Thanks to you putting my name in.”
Natty smirked. Stepped even closer. Her polo stretched tight across her chest—sweat-darkened in spots, nipples faintly outlined from the AC hitting damp fabric.
“I like being right about people.” Her hand slid to his waist. Fingers hooked in his belt loop. Pulled him forward a step. “And I like rewarding people who don’t disappoint.”
Before he could answer, she dropped to her knees on the concrete—right there in the dusty back corner.
Jaebin’s breath caught.
She looked up at him—eyes dark, confident. Unzipped his cargo pants slow. Tugged them and boxers down just enough.
His cock was already half-hard from the risk, the way she stared.
Natty wrapped her hand around the base. Stroked once—firm. Then leaned in.
Her mouth was hot. Wet. She took him deep right away—no teasing buildup. Tongue pressed flat, cheeks hollowed. Jaebin groaned low, hand going to the pallet stack for balance.
She worked fast. Purposeful. Head bobbing steady, hand twisting at the bottom. Every few strokes she pulled back to lick the head—slow swirl—then dove down again. Throat relaxed. No gag.
Jaebin’s hips twitched forward without permission. She took it. Let him shallow-thrust into her mouth.
“Fuck… Natty—”
She hummed around him. One hand cupped his balls, rolled them gently. The other stroked what her mouth couldn’t reach.
The warehouse noise covered everything—forklifts beeping far away, conveyor belts rumbling. No one would hear. No one would come back here.
She sped up. Sucked harder. Eyes locked on his the whole time—watching him fall apart.
Jaebin’s thighs tensed. “I’m—gonna—”
She didn’t pull off. Just nodded once—small, clear. Keep going.
He came hard—thick pulses down her throat. Body jerking. Hand gripping the cardboard stack so tight it crumpled under his fingers.
Natty swallowed everything. Kept sucking soft through the aftershocks until he was empty, twitching.
When she finally pulled off, she licked her lips slow. Stood up. Wiped the corner of her mouth with her thumb.
“Cash at six,” she said casually, like she hadn’t just blown him behind the compactor. “Don’t be late for payout.”
Jaebin laughed—breathless, stunned. Zipped himself up with shaky hands.
Natty adjusted her vest. Gave him a quick once-over.
“You’re officially not useless,” she said. Smirked. “See you out front at six.”
She turned. Walked away—hips swaying just a little extra.
Jaebin stood there a second. Chest heaving. Dust settling around him.
He picked up the next cardboard sheet.
Kept flattening.
But he was smiling the whole time.
Shift almost over.
And somehow—this felt like the best part of the day.
Evening, around 6:15 PM.
The shift ended right on time. Jaebin handed in his vest and hard hat at the front office. Boss Kim—still frowning, but less sharply—counted out 80,000 won in crisp bills and slid them across the counter.
“You did okay today. Come back tomorrow if you want more shifts. Natty already put you on the list.”
Jaebin pocketed the cash. “Thanks, sir. I’ll be here.”
Outside the gate, Natty was waiting near her bike. She’d changed out of the high-vis vest, polo untucked now, sleeves rolled higher. She looked tired but satisfied—hair a little messy from the helmet.
“Survived,” she said, tossing him a spare helmet. “Get on. I’m not letting you take the bus smelling like cardboard dust.”
Jaebin didn’t argue. He climbed on behind her. The bike was small—his chest pressed against her back, hands on her waist. She felt solid, warm through the polo. Natty kicked the engine to life.
“Hold on tight,” she said over the growl. “I ride fast when I’m hungry.”
They pulled out onto the main road. Evening traffic was thick, but Natty weaved through it like she owned the lanes.
Wind rushed past, cooling the sweat still on Jaebin’s skin. He kept his grip light at first, then firmer when she accelerated through a yellow light. Her stomach flexed under his palms—strong from lifting boxes all day.
The ride back took fifteen minutes. She pulled into the apartment garage, killed the engine, and kicked the stand down.
Jaebin climbed off, handed her the helmet.
“Thanks for the ride. And the job. And… earlier.”
Natty smirked, hanging the helmets on the handlebars.
“You earned it. All parts.” She stepped closer—close enough he could smell her citrus body spray mixed with faint warehouse dust. “Tomorrow’s another shift if you want it. Same time.”
“I’ll be there.”
She reached out, tugged his t-shirt collar straight like a big sister fixing her little brother.
“Go shower. You stink.” She laughed once—short, real. “See you around, warehouse boy.”
She walked toward the elevator without looking back.
Jaebin headed up alone. Room 403 felt quiet. He stripped fast—clothes straight into the hamper—stepped under hot water. Soap, scrub, rinse. The dust and sweat washed away. His muscles ached in a good way—real work ache. He dried off, threw on clean shorts and a loose tank top. Stomach growled. Time for dinner.
He boiled water for ramyeon, again, cracked an egg in, tossed in some green onion from the fridge. Simple. Fast.
He was halfway through eating—bowl on the desk, chopsticks in hand—when three soft knocks came.
He opened the door.
Chaeyeon.
Still in her work clothes from the cafe: white tank top now dry, but still tight, loose cardigan open as always, leggings. Hair tied back in a messy bun, a few strands loose around her face. She smiled—soft, a little shy.
“Hey. Sorry to bother you. Just came to grab my dry laundry from your balcony. Shift just ended.”
Jaebin stepped aside. “No bother. Come in.”
She walked past him—close enough her arm brushed his. The scent of coffee and vanilla followed her.
She stepped out onto the small balcony, started unclipping socks, shirts, a couple of towels. Jaebin watched from the doorway.
Watched the way her tank top pulled tight every time she reached up.
Watched her breasts shift and bounce gently with the motion.
Watched the curve of her hips when she bent to fold something.
He was exhausted—legs heavy, shoulders sore from lifting boxes all day. But watching her, something else stirred. Heat low in his stomach. Cock twitching in his shorts. The day’s teasing, Natty’s mouth in the warehouse shadows, Jihyo last night—it all piled up.
Chaeyeon finished folding the last towel, wants to turn around with the basket in her arms.
“Thanks again for letting me—”
Jaebin stepped behind her fast. Arms wrapped around her waist from behind. Pulled her back against his chest. One hand slid up under her tank top—palm flat on her soft stomach. The other cupped one heavy breast through the tank top. Squeezed gently.
Chaeyeon gasped—soft, surprised. The basket slipped from her hands, landed on the floor with a quiet thud.
“Jaebin…?”
He pressed his face into the side of her neck. Kissed the skin there once—hot, open-mouthed.
“I want you,” he whispered. Voice rough from the day and want. “Right now. Please.”
His hips pressed forward—hard cock against her ass through their clothes. He squeezed her breast again—firmer this time. Thumb brushed over her nipple. It hardened instantly under his touch.
Chaeyeon’s breathing changed—faster, shallower. She didn’t pull away. Instead, she leaned back into him. Head tipping to give him more neck.
“You’re tired,” she murmured. But her voice was breathy. “Long day…”
“I know.” His hand slid lower—fingers dipping under the waistband of her leggings. “But I need you. Right now.”
Chaeyeon whimpered—small, needy sound. She reached back, hand finding his hip, pulling him tighter against her.
“Okay,” she whispered. “… take me.”
Jaebin groaned low against her skin. Hand sliding fully into her leggings—fingers finding her already wet through her panties. He rubbed slow circles over her clit. She arched into his touch.
He turned her around gently. Backed her against the balcony railing—careful, not too hard. Kissed her deep. Tongue sliding against hers. Hands roaming—up her tank top, pushing it high so her breasts spilled free. Heavy. Warm. Nipples dark and tight.
He broke the kiss. Bent down. Took one nipple into his mouth. Sucked hard.
Chaeyeon moaned—loud enough the thin walls might carry it. Fingers in his hair.
“Bed,” she panted. “Please. Bed.”
Jaebin lifted her—arms under her thighs. She wrapped her legs around his waist. He carried her the few steps inside. Dropped her gently on the mattress.
She looked up at him—eyes dark, cheeks flushed.
“Condom?” she asked softly.
He nodded. Grabbed one from the drawer—same pack Jihyo had left last night.
Chaeyeon pulled her tank top off completely. Cardigan tossed aside. Leggings and panties next—naked now. Soft curves. Full breasts. Wet between her thighs.
Jaebin stripped fast. Rolled the condom on with shaky hands.
She pulled him down on top of her.
“Slow first,” she whispered. “Then hard.”
He pushed in—inch by inch. Tight. Hot. Perfect.
Chaeyeon’s nails dug into his back.
“Yes… like that.”
He started moving—slow thrusts. Deep. Building.
She wrapped her legs around him. Pulled him deeper.
“Harder now,” she breathed. “Please. I want to feel you.”
Jaebin gave her harder. Faster. Bed creaking. Skin slapping. Her breasts bouncing with each thrust. He buried his face between them—kissing, sucking, groaning.
Chaeyeon came first—back arching, moan muffled against his shoulder. Walls clenching around him.
He followed seconds later—deep inside the condom. Body shaking. Collapsing on top of her.
They lay there panting. Sweaty. Close.
Chaeyeon stroked his hair gently.
“You okay?” she whispered.
“Yeah.” He kissed her collarbone. “More than okay.”
She smiled—soft, tired, happy.
Day wasn’t over. But right now—nothing else mattered.
Hyerin slammed the door of the manager’s office so hard the framed artist photos on the wall rattled.
The clock on the wall showed 11:47 p.m. Most of the staff had already gone home.
Park Minwoo, thirty-four, looked up from his laptop without much surprise. He’d been expecting this visit since the first day sales of Binary02 2025 Christmas Event Objekts update dropped at 7 a.m.
“1.2k?” Hyerin’s voice cracked on the number like she still couldn’t believe it herself.
“One point fucking two thousand. Soomin did 1,700. Dahyun passed 1,500 before lunch. Even maknae got 2k. And me? 1.2?!”
She threw her phone on the desk. The screen was still open to the Objekt real-time ranking. Her bar was a sad thin line at the very bottom.
Minwoo closed the laptop slowly. “Sit down, Hyerin.”
“I don’t want to sit. I want to know why the fuck this is happening after everything I did.”
Her eyes were red, not just from crying but from three hours of rage-scrolling through every fan comment, every comparison post.
Minwoo leaned back in his chair. “You know why.”
“No, I don’t. So you better explain it to me like I’m five, oppa. Because last time we talked about this you said—” She stopped, voice dropping to a hiss.
“You said if I let you fuck me whenever you wanted for three months, you’d push the sexy rebrand. You’d approve every thirsty TikTok, every low-cut top at fansigns, every thigh-high stockings at music shows. You promised the company would let me go full slutty concept for this comeback. And I did it. Every single thing.”
She took one step closer. Her breathing was fast.
“I let you bend me over this same desk. I swallowed every drop when you asked. I rode you in the van after rehearsal until my thighs shook. I even let you record it once—‘for reference,’ you said. And now I’m still dead last?!”
Minwoo didn’t flinch. He’d heard worse tantrums from other girls. But Hyerin was different. She never cried pretty. When she was mad she looked dangerous.
He stood up, walked around the desk, and stopped right in front of her.
“You want the honest answer?” he asked quietly.
“Try me.”
“You’re hot. Very hot. The body is insane now—tits bigger, ass rounder, waist snatched. Everyone noticed. But being sexy isn’t enough anymore.” He reached out and tucked a fallen strand of hair behind her ear. She slapped his hand away.
“Fans aren’t stupid,” he continued. “They can smell desperation from a mile away. The moment you went from ‘cute maknae’ to ‘I’ll suck dick for streams’ energy, half of them got turned off. The other half already stanned someone else. You changed too fast. Too obvious.”
Hyerin laughed, bitter. “So I whore myself out for nothing?”
“Not nothing.” Minwoo’s hand slid down, fingers brushing the side of her hoodie-covered breast, then lower, until he cupped her hip. “You got the body you wanted. You got the permission. You got to feel what it’s like to be desired by someone who can actually do something about it. That’s not nothing.”
She grabbed his wrist, but didn’t push him away this time.
“I still want the sales,” she whispered.
“I know.”
Silence stretched between them.
Then Hyerin’s grip on his wrist tightened, pulling his hand up until his palm covered her breast fully.
“Then make it worth it,” she said, voice low and rough. “Right now. If I’m already the slut of the group, at least fuck me like one.”
Minwoo looked at her for a long second—searching for bluff, maybe regret, maybe tears.
He found none.
He pushed her back until her ass hit the edge of the desk. One hard shove and she was sitting on it, legs spread instinctively. He yanked the hoodie over her head in one motion. No bra underneath. Her nipples were already hard from anger and cold air and something darker.
He took one in his mouth while his hand worked the knot of her sweatpants drawstring. Hyerin hissed when his teeth grazed her, then moaned when he sucked harder.
“You’re so fucking greedy,” he muttered against her skin, tugging the pants and panties down to her knees in one go. “Even when you’re mad you get wet.”
“Shut up, just fuck me.”
He didn’t argue.
Minwoo dropped his own pants just enough. No foreplay tonight; she didn’t want it and he didn’t have the patience. He lined up and pushed inside in one long, brutal thrust.
Hyerin’s head fell back, mouth open in a silent scream. Her nails dug into his shoulders through his shirt. The desk creaked under them.
He fucked her hard from the start—sharp, punishing strokes that made her tits bounce and her thighs tremble. Every time he bottomed out she let out a choked “ah—fuck—” like she was mad at her own body for liking it so much.
“You wanted this,” he growled against her neck. “You begged for the approvals. You opened your legs every time I called. Now you’re mad the fans don’t love you for it?”
“I hate you,” she gasped, but her hips rolled up to meet him anyway.
“Yeah?” He grabbed her throat—not choking, just holding. “Then why are you clenching so tight around me? Why is your pussy dripping down my balls?”
She answered by biting his shoulder hard enough to leave teeth marks.
He sped up, desk rattling louder. Papers slid off the edge. Her phone clattered to the floor, screen still glowing with that humiliating 1.3k.
“Look at me,” Minwoo ordered.
She did. Eyes glassy, cheeks flushed, lips swollen.
“Next comeback,” he said between thrusts, “I’ll get you the center. I’ll make sure every fancam zooms on your ass. I’ll leak the photos myself if I have to. But you—” another deep thrust “—have to stop looking like a kicked puppy online. You want to be the slutty one? Then own it. Smirk at the haters. Post thirst traps and laugh when they call you desperate. The moment you look like you enjoy it, they’ll start paying.”
Hyerin’s breath hitched. She was close—dangerously close.
“Promise?” she managed.
“I promise.”
She came then—hard, sudden, whole body locking up around him. A long, broken moan tore out of her throat. Her nails raked down his back. He kept fucking her through it, chasing his own release.
When he finally pulled out and came across her stomach and tits, she didn’t move to clean it up. She just looked down at the mess, breathing heavily.
Minwoo stepped back, chest rising and falling. He pulled his pants up, fixed his belt.
Hyerin stayed sitting on the desk, legs still open, cum slowly sliding down her skin.
The next morning came too fast.
Hyerin barely slept.
She’d gone straight from the office to the dorm, showered until the water ran cold, then lay in bed scrolling through the same three apps until her eyes burned.
The Objekt numbers hadn’t moved much overnight. Still 1.2k maybe 1.3 something. Still dead last.
By 7 a.m. she was already in the company building for vocal training, makeup already half-done, wearing the outfit she’d picked out the night before in a fit of petty revenge.
Black cropped blazer, barely there. White ruffled crop top underneath that showed most of her underboob if she breathed too deep. High-waisted light-wash denim jeans hugging every curve she’d worked so hard to earn.
She looked expensive. Expensive and expensive-to-fuck.
And she knew it.
Minwoo noticed the second she walked into the small meeting room he’d booked for “schedule check.”
“You’re late,” he said, but his eyes were already dragging down her body.
“Traffic,” she lied, dropping her bag on the couch and walking straight toward him.
He was sitting on the edge of the conference table, legs spread casually. Tie loosened. Shirt sleeves rolled up.
Hyerin didn’t waste time on greetings.
She climbed onto his lap without asking, knees bracketing his thighs, hands already on his shoulders for balance. The blazer fell open immediately, giving him a full view of the white ruffles barely covering her nipples.
“You’re in a mood,” Minwoo murmured, hands sliding up the back of her thighs, squeezing the denim-covered ass.
“I’m always in a mood when I’m losing.” She rocked her hips once, grinding down deliberately. He was already half-hard under the slacks.
She reached between them, fingers working his belt open with practiced speed. Zipper down. Hand inside. He groaned low when she wrapped her fingers around him and gave one slow stroke.
“Already?” she teased, voice breathy.
“You walked in looking like a walking OF ad. What did you expect?”
She didn’t answer with words.
Instead she lifted her hips, yanked her jeans down just enough to free one leg, then pushed her thong to the side. No prep. No warning. She lined him up and sank down in one smooth, greedy drop.
“Fuck—” Minwoo’s head tipped back against the wall. His hands clamped onto her waist, hard enough to bruise.
Hyerin bit her lip to keep from moaning too loud. She was still a little sore from last night, but that only made it better.
She started riding him immediately—slow at first, then faster, rolling her hips in tight circles that made him curse under his breath.
Minwoo’s hands roamed. One slid under the ruffled top, thumb brushing over a stiff nipple. The other gripped her ass, helping her bounce harder.
“You posted again, didn’t you?” he asked, voice rough.
Hyerin nodded, breath hitching every time she bottomed out.
“Yeah.”
“This outfit?”
She leaned in close, lips brushing his ear. “This exact fucking outfit.”
His cock twitched inside her at the thought.
She sped up, thighs burning, ass slapping against his lap in a lewd rhythm.
“Show me.”
Hyerin didn’t stop moving. She reached into the pocket of her blazer—still half-on—and pulled out her phone. Unlocked it with face ID while still bouncing on him.
The TikTok app was already open.
She turned the screen toward him.
The video was less than thirty seconds. Simple. Her in the hallway mirror of the dorm at 5 a.m., slow turn, blazer sliding off one shoulder, crop top riding up just enough to flash the bottom curve of her tits, then a quick hair flip and pout to the camera. Caption:
Minwoo stared at the numbers while she kept riding him.
“Still low,” he muttered.
“Lower than last week,” Hyerin hissed, slamming down harder, making him groan. “The same people saying ‘she’s trying too hard’ and ‘desperate vibes’ and ‘where did the innocent Hyerin go?’ Like bitch, she died. She got fucked into the ground by her manager and now she likes it.”
Minwoo laughed darkly, thrusting up to meet her next drop.
“You’re clenching so hard when you talk dirty. You like being called desperate?”
“I hate it.” She grabbed his face, nails digging into his jaw. “But I’m wetter than I’ve ever been, so maybe I do.”
He flipped them suddenly—lifted her off his lap, spun her around, and bent her over the conference table. Her phone clattered onto the wood, screen still showing the stats.
Ass up. Jeans yanked down to mid-thigh. Thong pulled aside again.
He slammed back into her from behind in one brutal thrust.
Hyerin cried out—sharp, needy. Her palms slapped against the table for balance.
“Keep talking,” Minwoo growled, pounding into her steadily. “Tell me how much you hate the comments.”
“They say I’m a slut now,” she gasped. “That I’m ruining the group image. That I should’ve stayed cute. That my body looks fake—”
He reached around, fingers finding her clit, rubbing fast circles.
“—and I read every single one while touching myself last night.”
Minwoo’s rhythm faltered for a second. “You’re insane.”
“I know.” She pushed back against him, meeting every thrust. “And I came so hard thinking about how many of them are secretly jerking off to my videos anyway.”
He fucked her harder. The table scraped across the floor a few inches.
“Post another one today,” he ordered. “After this. Same outfit. Messy hair. Lipstick smeared. Maybe show the hickeys I’m about to leave on your neck.”
Hyerin moaned at the thought, walls fluttering around him.
“Say it,” he demanded.
“I’ll post it,” she panted. “I’ll make it obvious I just got fucked. I’ll write something like… ‘busy morning’ with a winky face.”
“Good girl.”
She came suddenly, violently—whole body shaking, thighs trembling, a broken sob tearing out of her throat.
Minwoo didn’t stop. He fucked her through it, chasing his own release, until he finally pulled out and painted thick stripes across her lower back and ass.
They stayed like that for several long seconds—her bent over the table, him breathing hard behind her.
Eventually he stepped back, tucked himself away, fixed his clothes.
Hyerin straightened slowly. Her legs felt like jelly. Cum was already starting to drip down the back of her thigh.
She looked at her phone again.
Still open on the same video.
She took a screenshot of the view count.
Then she opened the camera, turned it to selfie mode, and angled it so the mess on her back was visible in the reflection—blazer still hanging off her shoulders, hair wrecked, cheeks flushed, lips bitten red.
She didn’t smile.
She just stared straight into the lens, eyes dark and defiant.
Then she hit record.
Short clip. Ten seconds.
Voice low, almost a whisper:
“Busy morning.”
Wink.
End.
She posted it immediately. Caption: busy morning 🖤
Minwoo watched the whole thing over her shoulder.
When the upload finished, he leaned down and pressed a surprisingly gentle kiss to the back of her neck.
“Next comeback,” he promised quietly. “Center. Heavy push. And I’ll make sure every single person who called you desperate eats their words.”
Hyerin turned her head just enough to look at him.
“Then keep fucking me until the numbers go up.”
He smirked.
“Deal.”
She pulled her jeans back up—cum still sticky against her skin—and walked out of the room like nothing happened.
The door clicked shut behind her.
Minwoo stayed behind, staring at the table where her handprints were still faintly visible on the polished surface.
The kind of hour where the air feels too still, where even the streetlights outside look half-asleep. The TV's been mumbling nonsense in the background for god knows how long. Your eyelids feel heavy, your brain even heavier. Seriously, you should’ve been asleep by now.
So when the buzzer echoes through your small apartment, it takes you a second to realise it wasn't coming from the TV. You rubbed your eyes and pushed yourself up, half expecting it to be a delivery mix-up or maybe some drunk neighbour pressing the wrong button.
But when you open the door, it's her. Seo Dahyun. Soda.
Hood pulled low, strands of hair clinging to her cheeks, her eyes red not from sleep, but something else. She's clutching her phone so tight her knuckles are pale, the other just hangs limply by her side.
She doesn't say a word. Just standing there, chest rising and falling in uneven bursts as if she just rushed to here (she did, you found out later), and her lips trembling like she's still deciding whether to speak or not.
"Soda?" you murmur her nickname, voice still thick with sleep. "What are you-"
"He broke up with me."
It's quiet. Flat. Like she had recited the news to herself, as nonchalant than it should’ve been. But she couldn't hide the crack in her tone, enough to give her away. You’ve known her since middle school.
“Who?”
“Who else?”
You blink once. Twice. The sentence sinks in like a slow burn like your consciousness back to life.
Then you step aside. "Get in."
She doesn't hesitate. Dahyun walked past you without meeting your eyes, the faint smell of rain and the scent that is undoubtedly hers following her in. She kicks off her shoes with a dull thud (one of them landing sideways) and drops her phone onto the couch before collapsing beside it, knees drawn up, arms wrapped around your huge Snorlax plushie like she's trying to squeeze the ache out of her chest.
You would've snatched a photo already if the air wasn't so suffocating.
Instead, you close the door behind her. The click sounds far too …final.
For a while, neither of you says anything. The TV in the background was still mumbling nonsense, but it did fill up the silence with half-hearted laughter. It felt almost wrong to even keep it on, like the world outside didn't get the memo that your best friend was just trying to keep every piece of her from falling apart.
You move toward her slowly, scratching the back of your neck. "…want some soda?"
She shook her head (she would've laughed at that by this point, you knew she loved that joke). Her eyes stay fixed on the floor, seemingly distant.
"He said that it doesn't work."
"What does that even mean? What doesn't work."
"That I'm…too much, apparently. Too clingy."
Her voice breaks on the last word. Small. Bitter. Feels like she's trying to turn the pain into sarcasm (just like you. Wow, best friend certified.) and failing miserably.
You dropped onto the spot next to her on the couch, being extra careful of every single movement. "Too much? Too clingy? How? You're the most empathetic girl in the world."
She lets out a dry laugh. "Can you believe that? Too clingy. Like caring is not allowed now. What the fuck."
You finally take a proper look at Dahyun. She tried so hard to stay composed, trying to joke about it away as usual, the way she always does when she's hurt. But her eyes couldn't hide it this time. There was this deep, hollow sadness sitting behind them, the kind that comes from being made to feel like her utmost love was too heavy for someone to carry.
She exhales shakily, her shoulders rise and fall in slow, uneven waves. "It's stupid, right? It's the same shit every time. I care too much, I ask too many questions, I…I text first too often. It's like —" She presses her palm to her mouth, her breathing shaky, and her voice clearly cracking, "-- It's like I'm not allowed to love people unless I pretend not to care about them."
Her words hang heavy in the air. You can hear, no, FEEL the frustration behind them. The anger that bottled up when you're tired of being gentle, tired of being told you're too much for people who don't know how to appreciate it.
It took you a full minute to find what barely was the right word to comfort her. "Soda…you just gave your time and heart to someone who didn't deserve it."
She didn't move for a second. Just stares down at her hands, the fingers picking at the hem of her sleeve. And then, without looking up, she whispers, "Then why does it keep happening to me?"
You wanted to answer, but nothing managed to come out of your throat. "I–-"
"You wouldn't understand anyway." She turned her head slowly, like the motion itself is a betrayal. The Snorlax plushie slips from her arms and lands face-down on the floor with a soft, defeated thump.
"Soda—"
"You don't understand!" The words rip out of her, jagged and raw. "You've never been the one left behind like this!"
You flinched. Not from the volume (though it's the first time you've ever heard her raise it), but from the venom oozing out of it. Seo Dahyun, who once apologised to a chair she bumped into, is screaming at you, her best friend. And she’s up, pacing the narrow strip of floor between the couch and the coffee table. Bare feet slap the rug, then the cold tile, then the rug again. Her hoodie’s zipper is half-down, revealing the thin strap of a tank top underneath, damp from the rain. Wet strands of her hair stick to her cheek in the dark.
"You always act like you have your life all figured out."
"Soda, I don't have my life figure—"
"Like you are so fucking calm. Like nothing ever hurt you!”
“Soda, listen to me—”
“I hate it! I hate how your life is just stable and quiet, while mine is in fucking shamble!"
The accusation hangs in the air, unfair and sharp. You don't move. You can't move. Your hands stay open on your thighs, palms up, like you are offering something she doesn't want. You know she's not yelling at you. It's the ghost of every single exes who told her she was too much, too needy. The echo of her own voice, telling her she's wrong.
Then she stops in front of you, chest heaving. Her eyes are glassy, red-rimmed, but the tears haven't fallen yet.
"I just—" Her voice cracks again, but smaller now. "I just need to feel something else. Anything else."
Her hands are on your shirt before you can answer, fisting the fabric, and tugging you forward. It wasn't gentle, and it certainly wasn't asking. You just lift your arms and let her yank your shirt off, the fabric catching on your ears for a second before it's gone. She tossed it aside absentmindedly, and couldn't give a damn where it landed.
Her hoodies then followed, fully zipped down in one motion. It puddles on the floor like shed skin. She's in a thin white tank now, her perky nipples visible through the damp fabric, and you try so hard not to stare. You tried to stay within the line, but she already threw it when she climbed onto your lap, knees bracketing your hips, her thighs trembling.
"Soda" You say, with utmost care. "Hey, Soda, listen to me—"
"Shut up." She whispers, but it's more like pleading than demanding. "Just, don't talk for a second, okay?"
Her fingers fumble with your belt, metal clinking too loud for comfort in the quiet space. She gets it undone, shoves your jeans and boxer down just enough. And then her own short. Then her underwear. She rises up on her knees, one hand braced on your shoulder, and the other guiding your exposed member to her entrance. She's wet already (unsure how, but you didn't dare to question), and her breath hitched as your head brushed her folds.
"Tell me you want this…" She whispers, eyes locked on yours. "Tell me you want me. Please."
"Fuck…" You groaned. You should've stopped her. Should've calmed her down, but what came out was: "I always do, Soda."
With the approval, she sinks down in one slow, deliberate slide, taking you to the hilt. The sound she made was half-sob, half-relief. Her head falls back, throat exposed, and you watch all the reliefs pouring out through her tears, tracking down her cheeks and dripping down onto your bare chest.
"Gosh…" she panted, her hips rolling in a circle, grinding down like she's trying to memorise the shape of you in her. "You - mmph, you feel so good…"
She then starts moving, her hips rolling in tight circles and grind down like she's trying so fucking hard to erase the bad memory away. Her breath hitches every time she bottoms out, a small and wounded sound that makes your heart ache.
"Tell me.." Her voice trembled. "Tell me I'm not too much, you idiot. "
You swallowed hard. "You're not. Soda. Never."
She makes a broken sound and kisses you. Messy, desperate, teeth clacking. Her tongue slides against yours, tasting like salt and rain and something very her. She pulled off the kiss and rested her forehead against yours. Her hand slides up to your chest, nails grazing your skin. It does hurt, yes, but it was still light, careful, like she's afraid to leave deep marks. Afraid to ruin you. Afraid to ruin what you both have.
"Say it again. Please." She pleaded. "I'm not too much."
"You're not too much." You repeated, rougher this time. "You're…more than they deserved."
Her pace quickens, hips snapping harder and slamming down harder, but there's still hesitation in it, like every thrust is still a question. The couch creaks beneath you. The TV is still on, running some nonsense infomercial. It's absurd. It's obscene. It's just enough.
"Harder," She whispers, "Yes, fuc- yes~" and you weren't sure if she meant you or herself. You slide your hands to her waist and her back, just holding there and letting her take what she needs. She rides you like she's trying to outrun the pain, but her eyes kept flicking to yours.
She leans back to your touch, and you watch her. Tank top riding up, breasts bouncing with every roll of her hips, the slick slide of her pussy taking you again and again.
"Am I...hurting you?" She whispered.
"Not at all." You panted. "You're doing fine."
She bites her lip, nods (good that she is still responding well, that's the Seo Dahyun you know), and moves again. Faster. Rougher. But her hands stay gentle, her fingers splayed across your chest like she's anchoring herself. Or relying on the anchor that is you.
"I don't want to be mean…" She moaned, almost to herself. "I just…I just want—"
"I know…" You smiled. "I got you. Do you feel good?”
" Yeah, fuck…you feel so good in me." She looked at you, her glassy eyes were on the verge of shattering. "You'll,,, stay with me like always…right?"
"Of course." Without hesitation. Without missing a single beat. "I'm always here for you."
And then she breaks. Sobs. A real one. It was raw, guttural, like she was finally being allowed to let it out. Her face crumples, forehead pressed to your neck, and the tears come hot and fast. You feel her clench around you. You don't think because it was deliberate, but it was just reflex from all the emotions, her thighs trembling violently as the wave hits.
Her fingers dig deeper into your shoulders. Just holding you tightly like you're the only thing left in her world. "I'm sorry," she chokes out between sobs, voice muffled against you. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I’m sorry—"
You don't want to answer with words (Not the thing she wanted to hear at this moment. You can read her more than enough times). Your arms around her tightened even more, one hand sliding up to cradle the back of her head, fingers threading through her damp hair. She's shaking so hard. So fragile. So small. Yet she still moved her hips in tiny, involuntary jerks, chasing the last of it even as she fell apart.
And then, the orgasm crashes through her. Her whole body locks up, back arching, a mantra of "fuck" and "I'm coming" tearing out of her throat as she let herself go. Hard, messy, tears and snot and sweat mixing on your skin. (It was a pain to clean it off, but that's not important right now.)
"Let it out." You whispered. "I got you, Soda. Do it for me."
And she did. Hard. With a broken cry that was half your name, half a curse. You feel it the way she pulses around you, the way her breath stutters as she begged you to hold her tight and not let go, and the way her nails dug half-moons into your flesh before going slack. It was too much for you to hold back, and you followed soon after. All the built up spilled into her with a low, helpless groan. Your hips jerked up once, twice, before stilling.
She doesn't pull away.
Just collapse fully, her weight grounding you both. Just the warmth from the heated session and the bond between you two.
"I…didn't hurt you, did I?" Her tone too careful. Too fragile.
You shake your head. "You bonking me accidentally with a metal bat last week hurts more."
“Damn you…” That finally brings out a weak chuckle out of her. "I just…I just… didn't know how to be angry without breaking something."
"It's fine." You smiled. "You’re not breaking anything.”
“Really?”
“Mhm. You're still here. And I'm still here for you."
She exhales into your skin, shaky but light. The silence stretched, but it was comfortable.
And then, the TV cuts to a commercial for a blender. Hearing the rambling, Dahyun snorts, "We're literally fucking to the sound of a NutriBullet ad."
You soon followed with an airy laugh. "Don’t point that out, Soda, damn it."
She shifts, still on your lap, and winces. "Damn you, I'm gonna be so sore tomorrow."
"Well, it's your fault for riding too hard, Soda. I get it, I'm too irresistable."
She smacks your chest lightly, cheeks flushing. "Shut up…I was just processing."
"Mhm…hope that was a great processing time you had."
"Stop teasing me, damn it." She pinched your shoulder, forcing a groan out of you. "You didn't exactly complain."
"Why would I?" You brush a strand of hair from her face, tuck it behind her ear. “Hey.”
She hummed.
“You want that soda now?”
She let out another snort before she looked up to you with the smile you adored so much. Small, tired, real. Undeniably hers. “Diet Coke. With ice. And a straw.”
You sighed, a grin managed to escape. “Tsk. So bossy.”
“Deal with it, idiot.”
But she doesn’t move to get off you yet. Not yet. Just stay there, and breathe with you.
Summary: At the beach with your flirty friend Karina, applying sunscreen on her back turns into something more...
Genre: smut, friends to lovers, female reader
Word count: <1k
Applying suncream on Karina’s narrow back… that was totally normal, right?
Your hands trembled as you massaged the sunscreen over her shoulder blades and down the lightly furred dimple of her spine.
This was something friends did for each other all the time. You were sure it didn't mean anything. It couldn't mean anything. You were nothing special to Karina - she was equally flirty and friendly with everyone.
You sat straddling her back. She was in a tiny black bikini and shorts, the neatly looped black bow the only part of her back you couldn't reach.
Your fingers kept skating towards it, but you didn't dare to slip underneath.
“Just undo it,” she said, her voice a little muffled. She was resting her cheek on her hands, eyes shut like she barely cared.
“The-?” you stuttered.
Karina huffed, reaching behind to flick open the black bow.
You gazed at the thin tan line underneath, then finally dared to skate your fingers over it. You tried not to think about her soft breasts squished on the sand.
“Go lower, too,” Karina said, in a strange voice. If you didn't know better, you might think she was nervous.
You shimmied down to her legs, then gazed at the hem of her shorts. It was impossible not to stare. Her butt squeezed out of the distressed denim. Sand and seawater caked her thighs.
The shorts were so tiny that where they went between her legs, you could see a sliver of black bikini bottom and a dusting of pussy hair. Your throat went dry.
She shimmied down her shorts for you to apply the suncream. Your fingers timidly covered the area.
The shorts went lower and lower until she just kicked them onto the sand, leaving her in only her bikini bottom.
For a second, your fingers accidentally skated over the edge of her pussy. Karina sucked in a breath.
“Sorry!” you said, upsetting the suncream bottle in the sand. “That was an accident. I swear.”
“Are you sure?” she said, and suddenly, her brown eyes were staring seriously into yours.
“What?”
“I mean…” she said, her fingers tracing shapes in the sand. “That would be a shame. What if I wanted you to touch me there… again?”
“Here? In public?” you whispered, eyeing the couples sunbathing a little way off, the kids playing in the distant ocean. You couldn't believe what you were hearing. It was all happening too fast. You needed time to think.
She batted her thick eyelashes, lying down like she was about to nap in the sand again. “I suppose it was a mistake.”
This was your moment. You had to act now, or Karina would never look at you like this again.
Daring your hand to stay still, you slipped her bikini bottom to the side, and slid your fingers over her bare pussy.
To your shock, it already glistened with wetness. It was softer than you could ever imagine, except for the gritty sensation of sand.
Karina’s eyes were still closed, but you could feel her rolling her hips up against your hand.
Unable to resist, you slipped a finger inside her, and earned a sweet sigh. She was burning hot, and sucked your finger in so deep you were breathless.
You buried your fingers in her pussy, knuckle deep, tracing every sigh, every tremble of the fat of her butt.
When you looked up, you saw the couple nearest staring at you, but you didn't care. Karina had no idea, and you knew she looked beautiful. Let them stare.
When she came, it was with a low, husky moan. Wetness soaked your fingertips.
Karina twirled around, flashing you a shy smile. Her bikini top, still untied, slipped off her chest, revealing her small breasts and round, dark nipples.
She pressed the cups to her chest, laughing. “I forgot it was untied.”
“No,” you said. “I want to see. You're beautiful.”
Looking quickly around, she let it slip down again, then pressed shyly against you.
Her fingers slid inside your bikini bottoms. As soon as she plunged her fingers inside you, you came with a shudder.
“Sorry,” you mumbled. “I—I was so worked up, and-”
“I like it. Easy to please,” she whispered in your ear. “I think I can get more than one orgasm out of you. Wanna see my hotel room?”
You couldn't agree fast enough.
Once you both looked respectable, she grabbed your hand and you ran down the shore.
“I like you, you know!” Karina called into the wind. “That's why I invited you out today, away from the others. Because I like you!”
You were so giddy you felt like you were flying. Karina didn't need to hear that you liked her back. It was obvious to anyone with eyes that you were head over heels.
—
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Little smut fic about Chaehyun and Xiaoting.
1200 words. :3
The light poured in from the window, Xiaoting looked right into Chaehyun's eyes and felt pure joy. They could not speak each other's languages, but they had love to do it for them. Xiaoting brushed back Chaehyun's hair to reveal her pretty face, then kissed her.
They started kissing hard, like they could not get enough of each other's lips. Their tongues touched and moved around each other mouths, pushing and hungry. Xiaoting's hands slipped under Chaehyun's shirt, feeling her big squishy boobs that she liked so much. She rubbed her thumbs over the nipples. Chaehyun made a moaning sound right into Xiaoting's mouth and it made Xiaoting want more.
Chaehyun pushed Xiaoting down on the bed and sat on top of her with a big smile. She moved her hips slow, rubbing against Xiaoting's thigh. Chaehyun's pussy was getting wet as fuck so she pull off her shirt quick, showing her big tits that Xiaoting grabbed. Xiaoting sat up and started sucking on one nipple, pulling it between her lips.
Xiaoting said something in Chinese, like "ah," but Chaehyun didn't know what it meant, and she didn't care right now. Chaehyun pulled off Xiaoting's shorts and put her fingers between her legs to rub her pussy. She touched the beautiful Chinese girl's pussy, stroking up and down to tease her clit. Xiaoting's clit was swollen and sensitive, and she pushed her hips up for more, opening her legs for Chaehyun.
They took off their clothes and throw them on the floor. Chaehyun turned around so her round ass was over Xiaoting's face, she bent down to Xiaoting's pussy to 69. She licked from the bottom to the top, tasting how wet and a bit salty it was. Then she sucked on the clit, making Xiaoting grab her thighs tight and dig her nails in. Xiaoting stuck her tongue into Chaehyun's pussy, licking inside the folds and tasting her juices with a moan.
They moved together, hips going up and down. Chaehyun put two fingers inside Xiaoting's pussy, pushing them in deep and bending them to find that perfect spot, Xiaoting's walls squeezed around them tight. Xiaoting did the same, sliding her fingers into Chaehyun's tight pussy while slapping her ass cheek with her other hand. It left a pink mark, and Chaehyun liked having her ass played with.
The room was full of sounds, like wet licking and quiet moans. They didn't care about speaking different languages because their bodies said everything. Chaehyun came first, her whole body shaking as she pushed against Xiaoting's tongue. Her cum spurt out to cover Xiaoting's lips and chin, and Xiaoting kept going and demanding more. Then Xiaoting came too, her pussy squeezing hard and squirting a little on Chaehyun's hand.
Xiaoting's hips raised up and Chaehyun fingerfuck her hard, teasing the clit with her tongue until Xiaoting was finished. They fell down on the bed, breathing heavy and holding each other. But they weren't done yet because Chaehyun had a big dildo surprise. Chaehyun looked at Xiaoting with a smile and reached into the drawer for the strap-on. Xiaoting looked at it, then smiled widely and clapped.
Chaehyun put the strap-on on fast, adjusting the buckles around her hips. It was a big black one, thick and long like the BBC's they watch in porn, with a thing that went inside her own pussy to give her pleasure too. Xiaoting watched, her eyes wide, biting her lip. She spread her legs on the bed to present her wet pussy, ready for Chaehyun to claim.
Chaehyun climbed back on top, kissing Xiaoting soft at first, then deeper. She rubbed the tip of the strap-on against Xiaoting's pussy to get it lubricated with juices. Xiaoting moaned, lifting her hips to meet it eagerly. Chaehyun pushed in slow, inch by inch. Xiaoting gasped, her hands on Chaehyun's back, nails digging in a little, her pussy gripped the toy tight.
Once it was all the way in, Chaehyun started to thrust, pulling out and thrusting back in. Xiaoting's pussy gripped it each time, making wet lewd sounds. Chaehyun went faster, her own clit rubbing against the strap-on, building her pleasure too. Xiaoting wrapped her legs around Chaehyun's waist, pulling her deeper, moaning for more.
They kissed again, tongues pushing while their bodies slap together. Xiaoting reached down to grab and slap Chaehyun's ass, squeezing it as she got fucked by Chaehyun's big rubber black cock. Chaehyun broke the kiss to suck on Xiaoting's neck, then kissed her whole face. Xiaoting said words in Chinese softly, and Chaehyun answered with Korean ones. It did not matter that they could not speak each others language, they had hot girl sex to communicate.
Chaehyun flipped them over so Xiaoting was on top now. She held the strap-on in place as Xiaoting sank down on it and wiggled her hips down to the bottom. Xiaoting rode it slow at first, lifting her hips up and down, feeling it hit deep inside. Her tits jiggled with each move, and Chaehyun reached up to play with them, pinching the nipples.
Xiaoting bounced up and down, her pussy making wet sex noises that Chaehyun loved. Chaehyun's hands guided her hips, helping the (?) rythym (?). Sweat covered their perfect bodies and made them glisten like they were oiled up asian sex goddesses. Xiaoting leaned down to kiss Chaehyun's mouth, then her tits, sucking on a nipple while she kept riding.
They switched again because Chaehyun wanting to be rougher. She pulled Xiaoting up on all fours, getting behind her and slapping Xiaoting's ass. The strap-on slid back in and Chaehyun started pounding hard, her hips slapping against Xiaoting's ass. Xiaoting pushed back, moaning loudly, she needed more. Chaehyun reached around to rub Xiaoting's clit and bring her to a climax faster.
Xiaoting's body tensed, another orgasm was coming. "Chaehyun!" She cried out, pussy clenching around the toy as she came hard, juices spray the bed beneath her. Chaehyun kept going a bit longer, then pulled out with a pop, taking off the strap-on quick.
They were side by side facing each other. Chaehyun began to scissor Xiaoting, their pussies grinding together. They started to scissor hard with their clits rubbing in slow circles and loud moans. Their hands roamed everywhere on their bodies, Xiaoting could not keep hers away from Chaehyun's busty tits.
Chaehyun slipped two fingers into Xiaoting again and Xiaoting did the same. They fingerfuck each other lazy, kissing deep. Tongues and fingers moved in, moans become louder, their respective languages mixed to encourage each other.
They reached a climax together and squirted one each other hard, bodies shaking with loud moans. Cum mixed on their fingers and they licked them clean, tasting each other. They cuddled close after, kissing nonstop and refusing to keep their hands away.
A few minutes later Chaehyun was pounding Xiaoting with the strap-on again. It went in slow, and Xiaoting rocked back, taking it deeper. Chaehyun fucked her slow and lazy, grabbing Xiaoting around the hips and waist to enjoy her body and give her pleasure.
They went on like that for a while, switching positions, trying different things. No words needed, just their endless and pure girl love that no man could ever give them because men suck and are cringe. By morning, they were tired but happy, wrapped in warm blankets, smiling at each other.
They knew they'd do it all again soon, because they loved each other.
Jaebin carried the last cardboard box up the narrow stairs and pushed open the door to room 403 with his shoulder.
The apartment smelled fresh, small, one room plus a tiny kitchen and bathroom, but it was his.
No parents nagging about dishes, no little sister stealing his snacks. Just him, a single bed, a cheap desk, and one window that looked out at the train tracks.
He dropped the box with a thud and wiped sweat from his forehead. “Finally,” he muttered.
The moving company guys had already left. Jaebin stood in the middle of the empty space, breathing hard. His phone buzzed in his pocket.
Mom: Did you arrive safely? Eat something. Don’t skip dinner just because you’re excited.
He typed back fast: Yeah, I’m good. Unpacking now. Love you.
He turned the phone face down on the desk and started opening boxes. Clothes first, then the rice cooker his mom forced him to take, then books and his old gaming laptop.
He was halfway through sorting socks when someone knocked on the door. Three quick taps.
Jaebin froze. He wasn’t expecting anyone.
He walked over and opened the door a crack.
Standing there was a girl. Long dark hair tied in a loose, white t-shirt stretched tight across her chest, denim shorts, and a friendly but slightly tired smile. She held a small paper bag in one hand and a plastic bottle of barley tea in the other.
“Hi,” she said. “I’m Jihyo. From 402, right next door.”
Jaebin blinked. “Oh. Uh… hi. I’m Jaebin. Just moved in today.”
“I know.” She laughed a little. “I heard every time you dropped something.”
Jaebin’s face went red. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to be loud.”
“No, no, it’s fine. I was actually waiting for you to finish so I could say welcome.” She lifted the paper bag. “I brought red bean buns. Fresh from the bakery downstairs. And this tea. Moving is hot work.”
Jaebin stared at the bag, “You didn’t have to…”
“I wanted to. New neighbors are rare here.” She tilted her head. “Can I come in for a second? Or is it too messy?”
He stepped back fast. “It’s messy, but… yeah, come in.”
Jihyo walked inside and looked around. “Wow. You work fast. Most guys would just leave boxes everywhere for a week.”
“I hate living out of boxes,” he said, scratching the back of his neck. “Feels like I’m still homeless.”
She nodded like she understood. “Smart. I like that.” She set the bag and tea on the tiny kitchen counter. “So, college? Work? Or…?”
“Just graduated high school. Taking a gap year. Maybe find a part-time job soon. I didn’t want to stay home doing nothing.”
Jihyo leaned against the counter. Her shirt pulled tighter when she crossed her arms. Jaebin tried very hard to keep his eyes on her face.
“Gap year is brave,” she said. “Most people just rush into university because they’re scared to stop. What do you want to do?”
“I… don’t know yet.” He laughed awkwardly. “Maybe game design? Or just anything that pays enough so I don’t go back home in shame.”
Jihyo smiled wider. “Honest. I like that too.”
She opened the paper bag and pulled out two red bean buns wrapped in wax paper. “Here. Eat one while it’s still warm.”
Jaebin took it, “Thanks,” he said quietly.
They stood there eating in silence for a moment. The bun was soft, sweet, still warm. Jaebin realized he hadn’t eaten since breakfast.
Jihyo finished hers first and wiped her hands on her shorts. “Okay, I should let you unpack. But… quick question.”
“Yeah?”
“How old are you?”
“Nineteen. Just turned in May.”
She nodded slowly. “Nineteen. Cute.”
Jaebin almost choked on the last bite. “C-cute?”
Jihyo laughed, covering her mouth. “Sorry, sorry. You just look… fresh? Like you haven’t been ruined by the world yet.” She waved her hand. “Don’t mind me. I’m twenty-seven. Been working full-time for three years. I forget how young nineteen sounds.”
She turned toward the door, then stopped. “Oh, one more thing.”
Jaebin looked up.
“This building,” she said, lowering her voice a little, “has kind of a… reputation. Not bad reputation. Just… lively. A lot of girls live here. Nine of us, actually, including me. All on the fourth floor.”
“Nine?” Jaebin’s brain short-circuited for a second.
“Yeah. We call it Paizuri Apartment. Not officially, of course. Just between us.”
Jaebin stared. “Paizuri…?”
She grinned like she was sharing a secret. “Don’t google it. You’ll only find weird stuff, you know what I mean.”
He swallowed. “I… uh… yeah. I know.”
“We’re not scary, I promise. Just… friendly. Very friendly. If you ever need sugar, or help with the washing machine, or just someone to talk to at 2 a.m. because you can’t sleep, knock on any door on this floor. We don’t bite. Maybe.”
Jaebin’s heart was hammering so loud, “Okay,” he managed.
Jihyo reached out and patted his shoulder once. Her hand was warm. “Welcome to the fourth floor, Jaebin. See you around.”
She opened the door and stepped out.
“Wait,” he said suddenly.
She turned back, one eyebrow raised.
“Um… thank you. For the buns. And the tea. And… coming to say hi.”
Jihyo’s smile softened. “Anytime.”
The door clicked shut.
Jaebin stood there for a full minute, staring at the closed door. His face felt hot. His chest felt tight. He looked down at the half-eaten bun still in his hand, then at the empty space where Jihyo had been standing.
“Nine girls,” he whispered to himself. “All on this floor.”
He walked to the window and looked out at the train passing by. The sun was already going down. Orange light came through the glass and painted the floor.
He laughed once, short and nervous.
“What the hell did I just move into?”
Jaebin finished unpacking the last box around 8 PM.
His stomach growled loud. The red bean bun from Jihyo was nice, but it wasn’t dinner.
He checked his wallet—enough for a triangle kimbap and maybe a canned coffee.
He grabbed his keys, slipped on sneakers, and headed out.
The hallway light flickered once when he passed. Thin carpet, pale yellow walls, the faint smell of someone’s instant ramen drifting under a door. He walked toward the elevator.
As he pressed the down button, the door 405 opened.
A girl stepped out. Short black hair with blue tips, oversized hoodie that still couldn’t hide how full her chest was, black leggings, white sneakers. She had earbuds in one ear and was scrolling on her phone with her thumb. She looked up, saw Jaebin, and pulled the earbud out.
“Oh. New guy,” she said. Voice a little rough, like she hadn’t talked in a while.
Jaebin nodded. “Yeah. Jaebin. 403.”
“Yel.” She gave a small wave. “405. You going down?”
“Yeah. Convenience store. Hungry.”
“Same.” She slipped the phone into her hoodie pocket. “Mind if I walk with you? I was just gonna grab air anyway. Been staring at my screen for six hours straight.”
“Sure,” Jaebin said. He tried not to stare at how the hoodie zipper strained a little when she moved.
The elevator dinged. They stepped in. It was small—barely enough room for two people without touching. Yel leaned against the wall opposite him, arms crossed under her chest. Jaebin looked at the floor numbers.
“So,” she said after the doors closed. “You just graduated?”
“Yeah. High school. Moved here today.”
“Big step. Most guys your age would still be at home playing games and eating mom’s food.”
Jaebin laughed once. “That was the plan until I decided I didn’t want to be that guy.”
Yel nodded. “Respect. I moved out at nineteen too. Freelance illustrator now. Pays okay if I don’t sleep.”
“You draw for a living?”
“Mostly webtoons, some album covers, random commissions. Deadlines are evil, though.” She rubbed her eyes. “That’s why I need air. My room smells like coffee and regret.”
The elevator hit ground floor. Doors opened. Cool night air rushed in from the lobby. They walked out together.
The convenience store was only a five-minute walk—bright lights, glass doors, the usual 7-Eleven sign glowing yellow and green. A few cars passed slowly.
Yel pulled her hood up against the breeze. “So what’s your plan? Job? School? Or just… existing?”
“Gap year. Probably get a part-time somewhere soon. Café maybe. Or delivery. Something easy.”
“Easy is good at first,” she said. “Don’t burn out. I learned that the hard way. Worked sixteen-hour days for three months straight last year. Almost ended up in the hospital.”
“Damn.”
“Slower pace these days. More coffee, less panic.” She glanced at him sideways. “You look like the type who overthinks everything.”
Jaebin raised an eyebrow. “That obvious?”
“Very. Your shoulders are up to your ears right now.”
He forced them down. “Habit.”
They reached the store. Automatic doors whooshed open.
Yel grabbed a basket. “I’m getting ramyeon and a choco pie. You?”
“Triangle kimbap. Maybe hot bar chicken.”
They split up for a minute. Jaebin picked tuna mayo kimbap and two pieces of fried chicken on a stick. Yel came back with spicy ramyeon cup, a banana milk, and two choco pies.
At the counter, the part-time guy—older, bored—scanned everything without looking up.
Yel paid first. She pulled out her card, then paused. “Hey, new guy. Want me to add your stuff? My treat. Welcome tax.”
Jaebin shook his head fast. “No, no, I can—”
“Too late.” She tapped her card again before he could argue. “Done.”
The cashier handed her the receipt. Yel grabbed both bags and nodded toward the door. “Come on. Let’s eat outside. My room’s too hot and my brain needs to shut off.”
They walked to the small bench in front of the store. Plastic table, two chairs, cigarette butts on the ground. Not fancy, but it had a streetlamp shining right on it.
Yel sat first, crossed her legs. Jaebin sat across from her and opened his kimbap.
She tore the lid off her ramyeon cup, poured hot water from the dispenser inside the store, and put the lid back on. “Three minutes,” she said. “Perfect timer.”
Jaebin bit into the kimbap. Rice, tuna, mayo, seaweed. Simple, good.
Yel watched him eat for a second. “You’re quiet.”
“Still processing the day,” he admitted. “Moved in, met Jihyo next door, now you. Feels fast.”
Yel smirked. “Jihyo-unnie already got to you, huh?”
“She brought red bean buns.”
“Of course she did. She’s the welcome committee. Sweet like that.” Yel stirred her ramyeon with chopsticks. Steam rose up. “She tell you about the floor yet?”
“Yeah. Nine girls. Paizuri Apartment.”
Yel laughed—short, real. “God, that name. We were drunk when we came up with it. Now it stuck.”
She looked at him straight. “You freaked out yet?”
“A little,” he said honestly. “Not bad freaked out. Just… didn’t expect it.”
She took a sip of banana milk. “We’re not a cult or anything. Just… ended up here one by one. Good rent, close to stations, and we all get along. Mostly.”
“Mostly?”
“Drama happens. Small floor, thin walls. But nothing crazy.” She paused. “You’ll meet the rest soon enough. They’re curious about you already.”
Jaebin swallowed. “They know I moved in?”
“Jihyo-unnie texted the group chat five minutes after she left your room. ‘New neighbor. Boy. Nineteen. Cute. Be nice.’”
Yel opened one choco pie and broke it in half. She held out a piece. “Here. Sugar helps with shock.”
He took it. They ate in quiet for a bit. Cars passed. A train rumbled in the distance.
Yel finished her ramyeon, crushed the cup, and leaned back. “Okay. Real talk. You single?”
Jaebin almost dropped his chicken stick. “Uh… yeah. Why?”
“Just checking. Some guys move here thinking it’s paradise, then get weird when girls actually talk to them. I like to know upfront.”
“I’m not… weird,” he said. “I think.”
“Good.” She stood up, stretched. Her hoodie rode up a little, showing a strip of stomach. Jaebin looked away fast.
“I should head back. Got a deadline at midnight.”
“Yeah. Thanks for the food. And… walking together.”
Yel shrugged. “Anytime. If you hear screaming from 405 at 3 a.m., it’s just me arguing with my tablet. Don’t call the cops.”
He grins.
She started walking back toward the apartment. Jaebin grabbed the trash and followed a step behind.
At the elevator, she pressed 4. Doors closed.
“Hey,” she said suddenly.
“Yeah?”
“If you can’t sleep tonight… knock on my door. I’m usually up late. We can share coffee or just sit in silence. No pressure.”
Jaebin nodded slowly. “Okay.”
The elevator dinged. Fourth floor.
Yel stepped out first. “Night, Jaebin.”
“Night, Yel.”
She walked to 405, gave a small salute without turning around, and disappeared inside.
Jaebin stood in the hallway alone for a second. His heart was beating fast again.
He opened his own door, stepped in, locked it.
11:17 PM.
Jaebin was lying on his bed in just boxers and a loose t-shirt, scrolling through his phone with the lights off except for the screen glow. He was tired from unpacking but wired. Too much newness in one day.
His eyes were starting to close when three soft knocks came at the door.
Not loud. Not angry. Just… there.
Jaebin sat up fast. Heart jumped.
“Who…?” he called quietly.
A woman’s voice answered from the other side. Low, smooth, a little husky from the day.
“It’s Eunbi. From 408. Sorry it’s late.”
He scrambled off the bed, pulled on his shorts, checked his hair in the dark mirror by reflex. Then he opened the door a crack.
Eunbi stood in the hallway light.
Long black hair still perfect even after a full day, slight wave at the ends.
Black blazer open over a white blouse that hugged every curve—especially the heavy swell of her breasts pushing against the buttons like they were fighting to get free. Pencil skirt tight on her hips, black stockings, low heels.
She carried a plastic bag from the chicken place two blocks away. Smelled like fried skin and garlic soy.
She smiled. Small, tired, but warm. And something else underneath. Something hungry.
“Hey, new kid,” she said. “Heard you moved in. Thought you might be hungry.”
Jaebin blinked. “Uh… hi. Yeah. I mean—thanks. You didn’t have to.”
“I wanted to.” She lifted the bag a little. Steam still coming off it. “Half yangnyeom, half garlic. Extra spicy because I like it that way. Figured you might too.”
He stepped back. “Come in. It’s… not much, but.”
Eunbi walked past him. Her perfume hit him—something expensive, warm, like vanilla and smoke. She looked around the room, eyes scanning the bare walls, the single bed, the unpacked lamp still in its box.
“Fresh start,” she said, almost to herself. “I remember that feeling.”
She set the bag on the tiny kitchen counter, turned, and leaned back against it. The movement made her blazer fall open more. Jaebin’s eyes flicked down for half a second—couldn’t help it—then snapped back to her face.
She noticed. Didn’t say anything. Just smiled a little wider.
“You’re Jaebin, right? Nineteen?”
“Yeah.”
“Eunbi. Thirty.” She said the number like it was nothing. Thirty years old, but she didn’t look it the way most thirty-year-olds did. “I work at a marketing agency downtown. Long hours. Late nights. Tonight was one of those.”
“You just got home?”
“Fifteen minutes ago. Saw your light under the door. Figured I’d say hi before I crash.”
She reached into the bag, pulled out the chicken box, opened it. The smell filled the room instantly. “Eat with me? I hate eating alone after a day like today.”
Jaebin nodded. “Sure. Let me grab plates.”
“No need.” She pulled out two pairs of disposable chopsticks from the bag. “We can share straight from the box. Less dishes.”
They sat on the floor because the bed felt too weird and there was only one chair. Back against the bed frame, legs stretched out. The chicken was hot, crispy, sauce sticky on fingers. Jaebin took a piece—yangnyeom first. Burned his tongue a little because of the spicy.
Eunbi ate slower. Watched him more than she ate.
“You’re quiet,” she said after a minute.
“I'm eating! But yeah... still taking everything in.”
She laughed softly. “This place does that. Hits you all at once.” She licked a bit of sauce off her thumb.
“You met Jihyo already?”
“Yeah. This afternoon.”
“And Yel?”
“Tonight. Walked to the store.”
Eunbi nodded. “They’re sweet. Young energy. Me… I’m the old one.” She said it with a small shrug, but her eyes said the opposite. “Been here four years. Seen boys come and go.”
“Boys?”
“Neighbors. Roommates. Boyfriends of other girls. Some stay. Most don’t.” She took another piece of chicken, bit into it, chewed slowly. “You planning to stay?”
“I… yeah. Signed for a year.”
“Good.” She looked at him straight. “We like boys who stay.”
Jaebin swallowed hard. The chicken suddenly tasted like nothing.
Eunbi wiped her hands on a napkin, then leaned back on her palms. The blouse pulled tight across her chest. Buttons looked ready to pop. She didn’t fix it.
“You’re cute when you’re nervous,” she said quietly.
“I’m not—”
“You are.” She tilted her head. “It’s okay. I like it.”
Silence stretched. Not uncomfortable. Heavy.
She spoke again. “I’m not gonna lie to you, Jaebin. I came here with chicken, but that’s not the only reason.”
His heart slammed against his ribs.
She kept going, voice low. “I had a shitty day. Boss blown up, clients changing their minds every hour, heels killing my feet. I get home, shower, change… and all I can think about is how long it’s been since someone touched me like they meant it.”
Jaebin couldn’t breathe right.
Eunbi looked at him. No shame. Just want.
“I’m not asking for forever,” she said. “Just tonight. If you want.”
He stared at her. The way her lips were parted a little. The way her chest rose and fell faster now. The way she didn’t look away.
“I…” His voice cracked. “I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything.” She reached over, slow, and brushed her fingers along his arm. Light. Testing. “Just nod if you want me to stay. Or tell me to go. No hard feelings.”
Jaebin’s mouth was dry.
He looked at her hand on his arm. Then up at her face. Then down again—at the way her skirt had ridden up just enough to show more thigh.
He nodded once. Small. But clear.
Eunbi’s smile changed. Softer, but sharper too.
“Good boy,” she whispered.
She moved closer. Knees touching now. She leaned in, slow enough he could stop her if he wanted.
He didn’t.
Her lips brushed his. Soft at first. Then deeper. She tasted like garlic soy and heat. Her hand slid to the back of his neck, fingers in his hair. Pulling him closer.
Jaebin’s hands found her waist. Hesitant. Then firmer.
She made a small sound against his mouth. Almost a moan.
When she pulled back, her eyes were dark.
“Bed?” she asked. Voice rough.
“Yeah.”
She stood first. Offered her hand. He took it.
She led him the three steps to the mattress. Pushed him down gently. Then climbed on top, straddling his hips.
Her blazer hit the floor. Blouse buttons came undone one by one. Slow. Teasing.
Jaebin watched, heart racing, hands shaking a little on her thighs.
Eunbi leaned down, lips near his ear.
“Relax,” she murmured. “I’ve got you.”
Her breasts pressed against his chest through the thin fabric left. Heavy. Warm. She rocked her hips once—slow grind.
Jaebin groaned low in his throat.
She smiled against his neck. “That’s it.”
Eunbi’s blouse was gone now, tossed somewhere near the foot of the bed. Her black lace bra looked expensive—thin straps digging into soft shoulders, cups barely containing her.
She reached behind her back with one smooth motion. The clasp popped open. Fabric fell away.
Jaebin’s breath caught hard.
Her breasts were heavy, full, pale skin. Nipples dark and already tight. She didn’t cover up. Just let him look.
“Like what you see?” she asked, voice low and teasing.
He could only nod. Words were gone.
Eunbi smiled—slow, knowing. She slid down his body until she was kneeling between his legs. Her hands found the waistband of his shorts and boxers together. She tugged them down in one pull. His cock sprang free, already hard, tip shiny.
She wrapped her fingers around him once, loose, testing. Jaebin hissed through his teeth.
“Sensitive,” she murmured. “Good.”
She leaned forward. Pressed her breasts together with both arms. The soft weight enveloped him completely—warm, smooth, tight in the best way. She looked up at him through her lashes.
“First time someone’s done this for you?”
Jaebin swallowed. “Yeah.”
“Thought so.” She started moving—slow slide up, slow slide down.
The friction was perfect, slick from a little spit she let drip between her cleavage first. “Just relax. Let me take care of it.”
He tried. He really tried.
Her movements were steady at first. Controlled. Every time the head of his cock disappeared between her tits, she squeezed a little harder. Then released on the way up. Jaebin’s hands fisted the sheets. His hips twitched without permission.
“Fuck,” he breathed.
Eunbi laughed softly. The sound vibrated through her chest, right into him.
“You’re doing good,” she said. “Hold on a little longer if you can.”
But he couldn’t.
The sight of her—hair falling over one shoulder, lips parted, eyes locked on his face while her breasts worked him—was too much. The heat, the softness, the way she looked like she was enjoying it just as much as he was. It built too fast.
“Eunbi—I’m—” His voice cracked. “Gonna—”
“Go ahead,” she whispered. “Right here. Let it happen.”
She sped up just a fraction. Pressed tighter. One hand came up to cup the underside of her own breast, pushing them together even more.
Jaebin’s back arched off the mattress. A low groan ripped out of him.
He came hard—thick ropes spilling across the tops of her breasts, dripping down into the valley between them. Pulse after pulse. His whole body shook with it.
Eunbi didn’t stop moving until he was empty. Then she slowed, milking the last few drops with gentle squeezes. When he finally went soft against her skin, she let go.
Eunbi sat back on her heels. Looked down at the mess he’d made on her chest. She dragged one finger through it—slow—then brought it to her lips and licked it clean. Like it was nothing.
Jaebin stared. Brain still rebooting.
She noticed his expression and laughed—real, warm, a little wicked.
“Surprised?” she asked.
“Yeah. I lasted like… thirty seconds.”
“Fifteen,” she corrected gently. “But who’s counting?”
He covered his face with both hands. “God. That’s embarrassing.”
“No.” Eunbi leaned over him, breasts still glistening, brushing his stomach as she got close. “It’s honest. I like honest.” She kissed his forehead once. Soft. “You were wound up all day. New place, new girls, new everything. Of course you popped fast.”
Jaebin peeked through his fingers. “You’re not… mad?”
“Why would I be mad?” She sat beside him now, one leg tucked under her. “I came here to feel good. You just gave me exactly that. Watching you lose it like that? Hot as hell.”
She reached over, wiped a bit more of his cum off her skin with her finger, then wiped it on the inside of her discarded blouse like it was a napkin. “But tonight’s just this. Titfuck only. No more.”
Jaebin blinked. “Wait… what?”
She shrugged one shoulder. “I’m not ready to go all the way yet. Not on night one. I wanted to tease you. Feel you throb between my tits. See your face when you couldn’t hold back. That’s enough for me tonight. Makes me feel powerful. Knowing I can make you come that fast just from my chest. Knowing you’ll be thinking about it every time you see me in the hallway.”
Jaebin groaned again—this time half-embarrassed, half-turned on all over.
Eunbi stood up. Picked up her bra, slipped it back on without cleaning herself first. The lace stuck a little to the wet skin. She didn’t care. Buttoned two buttons on her blouse—enough to cover, but anyone looking close would know.
She walked to the tiny bathroom, wet a tissue, wiped her chest properly this time. Then came back, sat on the edge of the bed.
“You okay?” she asked.
“Yeah. Just… processing.”
“Good.” She touched his cheek once. Thumb stroking lightly. “Get some sleep. You’ve got a big day tomorrow. Nine girls on this floor, remember? They’re gonna start circling.”
Jaebin laughed weakly. “I’m already dead.”
She walked to the door.
“Eunbi?”
She paused, hand on the knob.
“Thanks,” he said. “For… everything.”
She looked back. Smiled “Anytime, honey.”
The door clicked shut behind her.
Jaebin lay there in the quiet.
He stared at the ceiling. Fifteen seconds.
Tomorrow was going to be insane.
But tonight?
Tonight, he’d survived Eunbi.
Barely.
Jaebin’s alarm went off at 6:30 AM
He slapped it quiet before it could wake the whole floor. His body felt heavy. Last night replayed in flashes— he groaned into the pillow.
“Get up,” he told himself out loud. “You promised.”
Back home, he’d told his mom he was moving out to be independent.
Part of that promise was no more lazy mornings. He’d start jogging every day. Build habits. Not turn into the guy who gains twenty kilos living alone on instant noodles.
He rolled out of bed. Brushed teeth. Pulled on gray sweatpants, a black hoodie, old running shoes. Looked in the mirror—hair messy, eyes a little red, but alive.
“Okay. You got this.”
He grabbed his phone, earbuds, keys. Opened the door quietly.
And almost walked straight into Eunbi.
She was right there in the hallway, locking 408. Black pencil skirt again, white blouse tucked in tight, blazer over one arm, heels clicking softly as she turned. Hair pulled back in a neat low bun. Makeup perfect. Coffee thermos in one hand.
She froze when she saw him. Then her lips curved—slow, private smile.
“Morning, Jaebin.”
His face went hot in half a second. “M-morning.”
She stepped closer. Close enough he could smell her perfume again—same one from last night. Vanilla and smoke. It hit him like a memory punch.
“You’re up early,” she said. Voice low so it wouldn’t carry.
“Jogging. Promised myself I’d… start working out. Live alone and all.”
Eunbi’s eyes flicked down his body—hoodie, sweatpants, sneakers—then back up. “Good boy. Discipline looks good on you.”
Jaebin swallowed. “You… going to work?”
“Early meeting. Boss wants reports before the rest of the office wakes up.” She adjusted her bag on her shoulder. The movement made her blouse pull tight across her chest.
“Sleep okay?” she asked, innocent tone.
“Yeah. Mostly.”
“Mostly?” She stepped even closer. Her free hand brushed his sleeve—just a graze. “Dream about anything fun?”
He couldn’t look at her eyes. Stared at her collarbone instead. “Maybe.”
Eunbi laughed under her breath. Soft. “Thought so.” She leaned in, lips near his ear. “Next time… maybe I won’t stop at just my tits.”
Jaebin’s knees almost buckled.
She pulled back like nothing happened. “Have a good run. Don’t trip thinking about me.”
She walked past him toward the elevator. He stood there frozen until the doors dinged shut.
“Fuck,” he whispered to the empty hallway.
He shook his head hard, jogged down the stairs instead of waiting for the elevator. Needed the extra burn.
Outside, the air was cool in the city, not freezing. Streets still quiet. A few delivery bikes zooming by.
Jaebin started slow—jog down the block, past the convenience store where he’d gone with Yel last night, past the small park with the broken benches.
He was on his second lap around the park when he heard footsteps behind him. Steady. Matching his pace.
He glanced over.
Yel.
Hair tied up in a high ponytail today. Black sports bra that left nothing to imagination—her chest bouncing with each step—gray tank top loose over it, black running shorts, sneakers. Earbuds in, but she pulled one out when she caught up.
“New guy,” she said, breathing even. “Didn’t expect company.”
Jaebin slowed a little so they could talk. “You jog too?”
“Every morning I don’t pull an all-nighter. Clears my head. You?”
“First day trying. Promised myself no slacking.”
Yel nodded. “Respect. Most guys say that then quit after three days.”
“I’m not most guys,” he said.
She smirked. “We’ll see.”
They kept pace together. Not racing—just steady. The park loop was maybe 800 meters. Trees bare, leaves crunching underfoot. Sun coming up stronger now, turning everything gold.
After the first full loop, Yel spoke again. “You look… distracted.”
Jaebin almost tripped. “What?”
“Your form’s off. Shoulders tight. Like you’re carrying something heavy.”
He laughed awkwardly. “Just… new place. New everything.”
“Uh-huh.” She side-eyed him. “Or maybe you ran into Eunbi in the hallway?”
His foot caught a crack in the pavement. He stumbled, caught himself.
Yel laughed—short, real. “Knew it. She’s got that effect.”
“She just… said hi. Going to work.”
“Sure she did.” Yel sped up a tiny bit. Jaebin matched her. “She knock on your door last night?”
Jaebin’s face burned again. “Yeah.”
Yel didn’t push. Just kept running. “She’s intense. But good intense. Don’t overthink it.”
“I’m trying.”
They did another lap in silence. Breathing harder now. Sweat starting on his forehead. Yel’s tank top stuck a little to her skin. Her sports bra did nothing to hide how full she was—bouncing with every step. Jaebin forced his eyes forward.
After the third loop, Yel slowed to a walk. Hands on hips. Breathing deep.
“Cool down?” she asked.
“Yeah.”
They walked the last stretch side by side. Park emptying out a little.
Yel wiped sweat from her neck with the hem of her tank. Flash of stomach. Jaebin looked away fast.
“So,” she said. “How was night one? Survive?”
“Barely.”
She grinned. “Eunbi?”
He nodded once.
“Figured. She’s been… restless lately. Work stress. She picks someone to blow off steam with. You’re fresh meat.”
Jaebin rubbed the back of his neck. “She didn’t… we didn’t go all the way. Just…”
Yel raised an eyebrow. “Just?”
He hesitated. Then muttered, “Titjob.”
Yel stopped walking. Looked at him. Then burst out laughing—loud enough a pigeon flew away.
“Oh my god,” she said, still laughing. “Fifteen seconds?”
Jaebin groaned. “She told you?”
“No. But I know her. And I know that look on your face.” She punched his arm lightly. “Don’t be embarrassed. She’s good at that. Really good. Most guys don’t last longer the first time.”
“Still embarrassing.”
“Honest is hot.” She started walking again. “She’ll probably tease you for weeks now. But in a good way.”
They reached the apartment entrance. Both breathing hard, shirts damp.
Yel stopped at the door. “Hey. Same time tomorrow?”
Jaebin nodded. “Yeah. If I don’t die first.”
“You won’t.” She pulled her ponytail tighter. “And if you need to talk about… whatever happens next on this floor… my door’s open. Late nights, remember?”
“Thanks, Yel.”
She gave a small salute. “See you, runner boy.”
She disappeared inside first.
Jaebin stood there a second, maybe minutes. Minding his mind to keep it together, facing whatever things would happen this day.
He finally pushed through the lobby door, wiped his forehead with the sleeve of his hoodie and headed straight for the elevator. Pressed the up button. Doors opened almost right away—empty. Lucky.
He stepped in, leaned against the back wall, and hit 4. The doors started closing slow.
Halfway shut, a hand shot out to stop them.
The doors bounced back open.
And Jaebin turned just in time to walk face-first into soft, warm pressure.
His nose and cheek smooshed right into the biggest, softest pair of breasts he’d ever felt in his life.
He froze. Completely. Couldn’t even pull back right away because the elevator was still small and she was filling most of the doorway.
“Oh my god—sorry! Are you hurt?”
The voice was soft. Gentle. Almost baby-like, but deeper, like someone who spoke quietly on purpose.
Jaebin stumbled back one step, face flaming. “N-no! I’m fine! I’m the one who—sorry!”
He finally looked up.
Chaeyeon.
Twenty-three, but her face looked younger—round cheeks, big doe eyes, small nose, lips naturally pink and full. Cute in that innocent way that made you want to protect her. Except her body was anything but innocent.
Tall—maybe 170 cm—wide shoulders, thick thighs in black leggings, oversized white t-shirt that did zero to hide how massive her chest was. Bigger than Yel’s. Bigger than Jihyo’s. Bigger even than Eunbi’s.
She had one hand still holding the door open, the other clutching a tote bag full of what looked like groceries—bananas, a carton of milk, a bag of rice cakes.
“I didn’t see you turning,” she said, voice still soft, worried. “Are you okay? Your face hit pretty hard.”
Jaebin rubbed his nose. It didn’t hurt. Just… stunned. “Yeah, I’m good. Really. My fault. I was spacing out.”
Chaeyeon stepped fully inside now. The elevator doors finally closed behind her. She pressed 4 too, even though it was already lit.
She looked down at him, “You’re the new guy, right? Jaebin?”
“Yeah. Moved in yesterday.”
She smiled—small, shy, but real. Dimples appeared. “I’m Chaeyeon. 406. I heard about you from Jihyo last night. She said you’re nice.”
Jaebin laughed once, nervous. “She said that?”
“Mhm. And that you blush easy.” Chaeyeon tilted her head. “She wasn’t wrong.”
His ears burned hotter. “I… yeah. Guilty.”
The elevator hummed upward. Slow. Too slow.
Chaeyeon shifted her tote to the other arm. The movement made her chest jiggle—once, heavy, impossible to ignore. Jaebin’s eyes flicked down for half a second then snapped back to the floor numbers.
She noticed. Didn’t say anything about it. Just spoke softer.
“You were jogging?”
“Yeah. Trying to start a routine. Don’t want to get lazy living alone.”
“That’s good.” She nodded seriously. “I like morning walks. Not running—my knees complain—but walking helps me think. I’m a barista. Early shifts. I walk to the café sometimes instead of taking the bus.”
“Which café?”
“Little one near the station. The one with the cat logo. I make the lattes.”
“I’ll have to stop by sometime.”
“You should.” Her smile got a little bigger. “I can make yours extra pretty. Hearts in the foam and everything.”
Jaebin smiled back, “Sounds good.”
The elevator dinged. Fourth floor.
Doors opened.
Chaeyeon stepped out first. Jaebin followed.
She turned toward 406. Paused. Looked back at him.
“Hey… um…”
“Yeah?”
“If your nose really hurts later… or if you just want ice or something… knock on my door, okay? I have a freezer full of gel packs. And cookies. Fresh ones. I baked last night.”
Jaebin blinked. “You bake too?”
“Mhm. Stress baking. Helps me relax after long shifts.” She hugged the tote closer to her chest—again, the shirt stretched. Jaebin tried very hard to keep eye contact. “So… yeah. Door’s always open. I forget to lock it sometimes.”
“That’s… not safe.”
“I know.” She laughed quietly. “But the girls on this floor look out for each other. And now you too, I guess.”
Jaebin nodded slowly. “Thanks, Chaeyeon.”
She gave a little wave—fingers wiggling cute. “See you around, Jaebin. Careful with doors next time.”
She walked to 406. Unlocked it with one hand. Glanced back once more—smile soft, eyes warm—then disappeared inside.
Jaebin stood there for a second. Hallway quiet except for the faint sound of music from someone’s room. Probably Yel again.
He touched his nose. Still no pain. Just the memory of softness pressing against his face.
“God,” he muttered under his breath. “They keep getting bigger.”
He walked the few steps to 403. Unlocked his door. Stepped in.
Closed it.
Leaned against the wood for a second.
Jaebin had just finished a quick lunch—ramyeon from the cupboard, one egg cracked in, green onion he’d chopped with a dull knife.
He was sitting cross-legged on the floor, back against the bed, scrolling through job listings on his phone. Part-time café work, delivery gigs, anything that didn’t require experience or a degree.
Three quick knocks.
He looked up. “Yeah?”
Door opened without waiting for more. Yel poked her head in.
“Hey, neighbor. Not busy, right?”
Jaebin sat up straighter. “Uh—no. Just eating leftovers. Come in.”
She stepped inside and kicked the door shut behind her. She was in comfy mode now, oversized gray hoodie, same one from yesterday, zipper halfway down, black bike shorts, fuzzy socks.
No makeup, hair a little messy from whatever she’d been doing all morning. She looked smaller like this. More approachable. Less intimidating.
“Smells like spicy ramyeon in here,” she said, sniffing the air. “Classic broke college kid meal.”
“I’m not in college yet,” he reminded her.
“Same difference.” She walked over, plopped down on the floor right next to him without asking. She leaned back on her hands and stretched her legs out.
“Ugh. Brain is fried. Been staring at line art for four hours straight. Needed a break before I start deleting everything in rage.”
Jaebin closed his phone screen. “You okay?”
“Yeah. Just… need human contact that isn’t a tablet stylus.” She turned her head toward him. Grinned. “So here I am. Your official chill buddy for the next thirty minutes. Or until my client messages me again.”
He laughed—small, surprised. “I’m honored.”
“You should be.” She nudged his knee with hers. Playful. “So. How’s day two treating you? Survived the morning jog, bumped into anyone interesting?”
His face heated instantly. “You mean Chaeyeon?”
Yel’s eyes lit up. “Ohhh, you already met the big titty goddess? Spill.”
“She was coming out of the elevator. I turned too fast. Face-planted into her… yeah.”
Yel cackled, head tipping back. “She’s got those things like airbags. You okay? Nose still working?”
“Barely,” he muttered. “She was super nice about it though. Offered ice and cookies.”
“Of course she did. Chaeyeon’s the mom of the floor. Always feeding people, always worrying.” Yel stretched her arms over her head. The hoodie rode up a little, showing a thin strip of stomach. Jaebin looked at the wall fast. “She’s sweet. You’ll like her. Everyone does.”
“Yeah. She seems… calm.”
“Unlike me.” Yel dropped her arms and scooted even closer. Now their thighs were touching. She didn’t seem to notice. Or maybe she did and didn’t care.
“I’m the chaotic one. Youngest too. Always have been. Grew up with three older sisters who bossed me around. So, I never got to be the big sister. Sucks.”
Jaebin glanced at her. “You want to be a big sister?”
“Little brother, actually.” She said it casual.
“I mean, I’m twenty-one. Still the baby in my family. No one to look after. No one to tease or protect or feed ramyeon to when they’re sad.”
She looked at him sideways. “You’re nineteen. Prime little brother material.”
He blinked. “Wait. You’re adopting me?”
“Unofficially. Yeah.” She reached over and ruffled his hair—messy from the jog, still damp from the shower. “You’re cute when you’re flustered. And you don’t talk back much. Perfect dongsaeng.”
Jaebin’s heart did a weird flip. Not the horny kind like with Eunbi last night. Something softer. Warmer. He actually liked how close she was sitting. The easy way she talked. The teasing without meanness.
“I… don’t mind,” he said quietly.
Yel’s grin softened into something real. “Good. Because I’m gonna bug you a lot now. Bring you snacks. Steal your charger. Complain about deadlines at 2 a.m. Standard little-sister torture, but reversed.”
He smiled, “I can live with that.”
She leaned her head on his shoulder—just for a second, testing. Then lifted it again. “You’re comfy. This is dangerous.”
“Dangerous how?”
“You’re gonna get used to me being here. Then I’ll never leave.” She laughed, “Anyway. Tell me something. What do you do when you’re not jogging or getting smothered by Chaeyeon’s assets?”
Jaebin thought for a second. “Play games. Mostly single-player stuff. Sometimes I draw a little. Nothing good.”
“You draw?” Her eyes brightened. “Show me.”
“It’s trash—”
“Show me anyway. Big sister orders.”
He hesitated, then grabbed his sketchbook from under the bed. Flipped to a page—a rough pencil sketch of a city skyline at night, some mecha robot concept he’d doodled last month.
Yel took the book. Studied it seriously. No teasing this time.
“Not bad,” she said after a minute. “Line work’s clean. Perspective’s off here—” she pointed with her pinky “—but you’ve got style. You should do more.”
“Maybe.” He shrugged. “Haven’t had time.”
“You’ve got time now.” She handed the book back. “I’ll drag you into my freelance hell sometime. We can draw together. Misery loves company.”
Jaebin nodded. “Sounds like a deal.”
They sat quiet for a bit. Not awkward quiet. Comfortable. Yel picked at a loose thread on her hoodie sleeve. Jaebin finished the last of his ramyeon.
“You know,” she said suddenly, “I’m glad you moved in. This floor was getting… estrogen heavy. Needed some guy energy. Even if you’re a shy baby.”
“I’m not that shy.”
“You’re blushing right now.”
“Shut up.”
She laughed again, then she stood up, stretched tall, “Okay. Break over. Gotta go finish these panels before my editor hunts me down.”
She walked to the door, paused with her hand on the knob. “Hey.”
“Yeah?”
“Come over later if you want. Like… dinner time. I make tteokbokki. Not promising it won’t be spicy enough to kill you, but.”
Jaebin smiled. “I like spicy.”
“My guy.” She winked. “See you, little bro.”
The door clicked shut.
Jaebin sat there alone again. Room felt bigger without her in it. Emptier.
He touched the top of his head where she’d ruffled his hair.
Little brother.
He didn’t hate it.
Not even a little.
Evening, around 7:40 PM.
The sun had dropped behind the taller buildings an hour ago, leaving the sky a deep purple streaked with orange.
Jaebin pushed open the small sliding door to his balcony—a tiny concrete ledge barely big enough for one chair and a dying potted plant the last tenant left behind.
He stepped out in just his loose t-shirt and shorts, barefoot, the cool evening air hitting his skin right away.
He leaned on the metal railing and looked out. The city skyline wasn’t anything special from this angle—mostly mid-rise apartments, neon signs from the convenience stores below, the red blinking light on top of a distant office tower. Trains rattled by every few minutes, lights streaking like slow comets. It felt somehow... peaceful, despite whatever happens today.
He exhaled slow. “This place is insane,” he muttered to no one.
His eyes wandered left along the building’s facade. The balconies were staggered—some had laundry hanging, some had plants, most had nothing.
Four rooms from his, maybe room 407 or 408, a light was on behind thin white curtains. Not fully closed. A gap maybe ten centimeters wide.
He didn’t mean to stare. He really didn’t.
But movement caught his eye.
A girl stepped into view.
She was facing away at first—long straight black hair down her back, slim waist, wearing only light gray panties that hugged her hips. No bra. No top. Bare.
That’s Jeewon—he didn’t know her name yet, but that’s who it was.
She reached up with both arms, stretching like she’d been sitting all day. Her back arched. And then her breasts came into full side view as she turned slightly toward the window.
Big.
Not just big—full, round, heavy in that natural way that made them sway a little even with the smallest movement. Nipples dark against the paleness, already perked from the cool.
Jaebin’s throat went dry.
She didn’t notice him. Or if she did, she didn’t care.
She bent forward to pick something up from the floor—a fresh white tank top maybe—and the motion made everything bounce once.
Jaebin gripped the railing harder. His heart started hammering like it had last night with Eunbi, but this was different.
This wasn’t invited. This was accidental. Wrong to watch. But he couldn’t look away.
Jeewon straightened up. Slipped the tank top over her head, caught for a second on her chest, she had to tug it down twice.
When it finally settled, it clung tight, outlining every curve, the material so thin he could still see her nipples underneath.
She turned more toward the window then. Facing out.
Jaebin froze.
She was pretty—sharp jawline, full lips, eyes that looked tired but bright. Maybe twenty-two, twenty-three or maybe older. She ran a hand through her hair, pushing it back from her face. Then she walked closer to the sliding door, like she was checking something outside.
Her eyes scanned the balconies.
And landed right on him.
Jaebin’s stomach dropped.
For one long second they just stared at each other across the gap—him on his tiny ledge, her inside her lit room, tank top stretched tight over those impossible breasts.
She didn’t scream. Didn’t cover up. Didn’t even look mad.
Instead, one corner of her mouth lifted. Small smirk.
She raised one hand—slow—waved once. Casual. Like she was saying hi to a neighbor she’d seen a hundred times.
Jaebin lifted his hand automatically. Waved back. Awkward. Face burning so hot he thought it might glow.
Jeewon tilted her head. Then she reached up again—both hands this time—cupped the undersides of her breasts through the tank top for a second, lifted them slightly like she was adjusting, then let go.
She is teasing.
Jaebin’s mouth opened. No sound came out.
She laughed—soft, muffled through the glass—and mouthed something he couldn’t hear. Probably “sorry” or “oops” or maybe just “hi.”
Then she reached over, slid her curtain the rest of the way closed.
The light stayed on behind it, silhouette faint now.
Jaebin stood there another full minute. Breathing shallow. Cock half-hard in his shorts without him even realizing it had happened.
He finally stepped back inside. Closed his sliding door. Locked it like that would erase what just happened.
He dropped onto the bed. Stared at the ceiling.
“Who the hell was that?” he whispered.
He didn’t know her name. Didn’t know her room number for sure. But he knew one thing:
She’d seen him looking.
And she hadn’t minded. Not one bit.
Jaebin was still on the bed, blanket half over his head, trying to calm his pulse after what he’d just seen on the balcony.
He kept telling himself it was an accident. She probably didn’t even mean for him to see. Probably.
Three soft knocks.
He sat up fast. Heart jumped again.
“Yeah?” he called, voice rough.
The door opened without him getting up. Just cracked enough for her to slip through.
It was her.
Jeewon.
Smaller body than he expected up close—maybe 160 cm, slim shoulders, narrow waist, legs that looked long for her height in tiny sleep shorts.
But her chest… the white tank top was thin cotton, stretched so tight across her breasts that the fabric looked ready to tear at the seams. No bra underneath. Nipples pressed against the tank top.
Every breath made them shift. She closed the door behind her with her back, hands behind her like she was nervous but not really.
“Hi,” she said a little playful. “I’m Jeewon. 407. Saw you staring from your balcony.”
Jaebin’s mouth went dry. “I—I didn’t mean to—”
She laughed quietly and stepped closer. Bare feet on his floor. “It’s okay. I left the curtain open on purpose. Wanted to see if the new guy would look.”
He stared. Couldn’t help it. Her tits were right there, inches away now, heaving gently with each step. Bigger up close. Rounder. The tank top rode up a little at the bottom, showing a sliver of underboob.
She stopped at the edge of his bed. Looked down at him sitting there in his shorts and t-shirt, blanket bunched around his waist.
“You’re cute when you’re embarrassed,” she said. “Blushing again.”
Jaebin rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry. I just… moved in yesterday. Everything’s a lot.”
“I get it.” She sat on the edge of the mattress without asking. Close enough that her thigh touched his. “This floor can be overwhelming. Nine of us. All… friendly. You’ve met a few already?”
“Yeah. Jihyo, Yel, Eunbi last night, Chaeyeon this morning.”
Jeewon’s eyes sparkled. “Eunbi already? She moves fast.” She leaned in a little. Her chest brushed his arm—soft, warm pressure through the tank top. “Did she let you finish between her tits?”
Jaebin choked on air. “How—”
“Figures.” She smiled wider. “And she texted the group chat. ‘New boy popped quick. So sweet.’ Don’t worry. We all think it’s hot.”
He covered his face with both hands. “Kill me now.”
Jeewon giggled—soft, real. She pulled his hands down gently. Her fingers were small, cool.
“Hey,” she said. “Look at me.”
He did.
She was close now. Face inches from his. Lips full, glossed a little. Eyes dark and steady.
“I came over because I wanted to say hi properly,” she whispered. “And maybe… help you relax. You looked tense out there on the balcony.”
“I’m… fine.”
“You’re hard,” she said simply.
Jaebin glanced down. His shorts were tented obviously. No hiding it.
Jeewon’s hand moved slow. Palm flat on his thigh first. Then higher. She cupped him through the fabric—gentle squeeze.
He hissed.
“See?” she murmured. “You need this.”
She slid off the bed, knelt between his legs on the floor, her chest pressing against his knees as she leaned in.
She hooked her fingers in his waistband. Tugged shorts and boxers down together. His cock sprang free—hard, leaking at the tip already.
Jeewon licked her lips once. “Nice.”
She didn’t waste time.
One hand wrapped around the base—small fingers barely meeting. The other cupped his balls lightly. Then she leaned forward.
Her mouth was warm. Wet. She took him in slow—halfway first, tongue flat against the underside. Jaebin groaned low, head falling back against the wall.
She hummed around him. The vibration shot straight up his spine.
She started moving—slow bobs at first, lips tight, cheeks hollowing when she pulled back. Every time she went down deeper. Throat relaxed. No gag. Just smooth, steady suction.
Jaebin’s hands fisted the sheets. “Fuck… Jeewon…”
She pulled off for a second—just to breathe. A thin string of spit connected her lips to the tip.
“You can touch my hair if you want,” she said. Voice husky now. “Or my tits. Whatever feels good.”
He hesitated. Then reached down. One hand in her hair—soft, straight strands slipping through his fingers. The other… he cupped one breast through the tank top. Heavy. Overflowed his palm. He squeezed gently.
She moaned around his cock when he did that.
She sped up. Head moving faster. Hand stroking what her mouth couldn’t reach. Wet sounds filled the small room—sloppy, obscene.
Jaebin’s hips started moving on their own. Small thrusts. She took it. Let him fuck her mouth shallow.
“Jeewon—I’m close—”
She didn’t pull off. Just looked up at him—eyes watering a little from the depth, but steady. Nodded once. Keep going.
He groaned louder. Hand tightening in her hair. The other squeezed her breast harder—felt the nipple harden under his thumb through the fabric.
It hit fast.
He came with a choked sound—thick pulses straight down her throat. She swallowed around him. Kept sucking gentle until he was empty, twitching, oversensitive.
When she finally pulled off, she licked her lips. Clean. Wiped the corner of her mouth with her thumb. Smiled up at him.
“Better?” she asked.
He could only nod. Brain fried.
She stood up. Tank top still clinging to her curves—nipples hard points now. She leaned down, kissed his forehead once. Soft.
“Welcome to the floor, Jaebin,” she whispered. “If you ever want more… knock on 407. Door’s open.”
She walked to the door. Paused with her hand on the knob.
“And next time you see me changing… feel free to watch longer. I like being seen.”
The door clicked shut behind her.
Jaebin lay there. Shorts still around his thighs.
He stared at the ceiling.
Day two.
And he still hadn’t met everyone.
11:03 PM.
Jaebin was half-asleep on his bed, phone on his chest, screen dark.
A knock. Not soft. Not polite. Three hard raps, then the doorknob rattled like someone was trying it without waiting.
He sat up fast. “Who—?”
The door pushed open before he finished.
Eunbi.
She stumbled in, heels clicking uneven on the floor. Black dress—short, tight, one strap slipping off her shoulder. Hair messy now, bun half-undone, strands sticking to her flushed cheeks. Makeup smudged under her eyes. She smelled like soju, sweet fruit mixer, and cigarette smoke from whatever bar she’d been at.
She kicked the door shut with her heel. Missed the first time. Tried again. Got it.
“Jaebin-ah,” she slurred, voice thicker than usual. She leaned back against the door for support. Breasts pushed up high in the low neckline, almost spilling out.
Jaebin stood up slow. “You okay? You’re drunk.”
“Very.” She laughed—short, bitter. Pushed off the door and wobbled toward him.
Almost tripped over his sneakers on the floor. He caught her elbow quick.
“Easy,” he said.
She looked up at him. Eyes glassy, pupils big. “You’re sweet. Always catching me.”
He guided her to sit on the edge of the bed. She dropped heavy, thighs spreading a little under the dress. Skirt rode up high enough to show lace panties—black, sheer in the middle.
“Why didn’t you go to your room?” he asked.
“Key… somewhere.” She patted her small purse, then gave up. “And I didn’t want to be alone. Not tonight.”
Jaebin crouched in front of her so they were eye level. “You need water? Or coffee? I can make instant.”
Eunbi shook her head slow. Reached out, cupped his cheek with one warm hand. Thumb brushed his lip.
“No water. No coffee.” Her voice dropped lower. “There’s only one thing that sobers me up fast.”
He swallowed. “What?”
She leaned in. Breath hot against his ear. “Eat my pussy.”
Jaebin froze.
She pulled back just enough to look at his face. Smiled crooked. “Don’t look shocked. You already know I’m not shy.”
“I… yeah. But you’re drunk.”
“Drunk, not dead.” She spread her legs wider. Dress bunched at her hips now. Panties visible—wet spot already darkening the sheer panel. “I’ve been thinking about your tongue all night. Bar was boring. Guys staring at my tits, buying drinks, talking shit. I kept picturing your mouth instead.”
Jaebin’s heart slammed. Cock twitched in his shorts.
Eunbi noticed. Reached down, palmed him through the fabric. Slow rub. “See? You want it too.”
He didn’t deny it.
She hooked one finger under her panties, pulled them to the side. Shaved smooth. Lips swollen, glistening. She was soaked.
“Come here,” she whispered. “Please.”
Jaebin hesitated one more second. Then knelt between her thighs.
She leaned back on her elbows. Watched him.
He started slow—kissed the inside of her thigh first. Soft skin. She shivered. Then higher. Nosed along her slit, breathing her in—musky, sweet from the alcohol still on her skin.
Eunbi sighed. “Good boy.”
He licked once—flat tongue from bottom to top. Tasted salt and heat. She moaned low, hips lifting a little.
“More,” she said. Voice rough now.
He gave her more. Tongue circling her clit—slow at first, then faster. Sucked gently. She gasped. One hand went to his hair, fingers twisting.
“Fuck… just like that.”
He pressed harder. Tongue dipping inside her, then back to her clit. Two fingers slid in easy—she was dripping. Curled them up, found that spot. Rubbed steady while his mouth worked her.
Eunbi’s breathing turned ragged. Thighs started shaking around his head.
“Don’t stop,” she panted. “Don’t you dare stop.”
He didn’t.
She came fast—back arching, moan loud enough the thin walls probably carried it. Walls clenched around his fingers. Wetness flooded his mouth. He kept licking through it, gentle now, until she pushed his head away weakly.
“Too much… too sensitive…”
Jaebin pulled back. Lips shiny. Chin wet.
Eunbi lay there panting. Chest rising and falling hard. Dress straps both off her shoulders now. Breasts almost fully out.
She looked down at him. Smiled—lazy, satisfied.
“See?” she said. “Sober now.”
Jaebin wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “You sure?”
“Clear as day.” She sat up slow. Pulled him up by his shirt. Kissed him deep—tasted herself on his tongue. Moaned into his mouth.
When she pulled away, her eyes were sharper. Less glassy.
“Better than coffee,” she murmured.
She stood up. Wobbled once. Steady. Fixed her dress—barely. Panties still crooked.
“I should go to my room now,” she said. “Before I decide to stay and ride you until morning.”
Jaebin’s cock throbbed at the words. He didn’t argue.
Eunbi leaned down. Kissed his forehead. Then his lips again—soft this time.
“Thank you, Jaebin-ah. For not sending me away.”
She walked to the door. Paused.
“Tomorrow… maybe I return the favor. Properly.”
The door clicked shut.
Jaebin sat on the floor where he’d knelt. Tasted her still on his tongue. Heart racing.
He looked at the clock. 11:27 p.m.
Day two still wasn’t over.
But he was exhausted.
He stripped off his shirt. Crawled under the blanket.
He closed his eyes.
Dreams were going to be wild tonight.
a/n: inspired by @mistyrani's The Apartment series. Don't forget to check that out, that's great series!
I sit in the back row of class like always, pretending no one talks to me.
I'm the quiet guy, the one who gets good grades, hands in homework on time, never causes trouble. Teachers like me, but kids mostly ignore me. That's fine. I like it that way.
Except for Chaeyeon.
She sits two seats in front of me. She's nice to everyone, but for some reason she's extra nice to me. She'll turn around and ask if I got the notes when I'm zoned out, or share her snacks during break. She smiles at me like I'm actually worth talking to. No one else does that.
But God, her tits.
They're fucking huge. Like, seriously massive. K cup at least, maybe bigger. They strain against her school blouse every single day, buttons looking like they're about to give up. When she leans forward to write, they rest on the desk, soft and heavy.
I can't stop looking. I try to be sneaky about it, glancing when she's not paying attention, but I'm always scared she'll catch me.
At night, when I'm alone in my room, that's all I think about. I lock the door, pull up porn on my phone, but it's never enough. I always end up imagining her. Those massive tits bouncing as she walks down the hall. How soft they'd feel if I could just touch them. I jerk off thinking about sliding my cock between them, how warm and tight it would be, her looking up at me with those kind eyes while I fuck her chest slow at first, then harder.
I cum so fast when I think about that. Every time.
Today in class, she dropped her pencil and bent down to get it. Her blouse pulled tight, and I saw the edge of her bra, white with a little lace. My dick twitched instantly. I had to shift in my seat so no one would notice.
She sat back up and smiled at me like nothing happened.
"You okay?" she whispered. "You look kinda red."
"I'm fine," I mumbled, looking down at my notebook fast.
She giggled softly. "You're always so quiet. It's cute."
Cute. She called me cute.
Lunchtime, she sat next to me again. Most days she eats with her friends, but sometimes she picks me. Today was one of those days.
"I saved you a seat," she said, patting the bench.
Her chest bounced a little when she sat down. I tried not to stare, but fuck, it's impossible. They're right there.
We talked about normal stuff. The upcoming test, some dumb thing the teacher said, her complaining about how her backpack straps dig into her shoulders because it's heavy.
"Yeah, carrying all those books must suck," I said, trying to sound normal.
She laughed. "It's not just the books. Everything's heavy these days."
She adjusted her bra strap under her shirt without thinking, and I nearly died. My mind flashed to helping her with that, my hands on her shoulders, sliding down, cupping those massive tits from behind, feeling how heavy they really are.
But I just sat there like an idiot, eating my sandwich, dick half hard under the table.
She's so nice to me. Talks to me when no one else bothers. Laughs at my dumb jokes. Shares her notes when I miss something.
And all I do is think about fucking her tits.
One day maybe I'll say something. Maybe.
But probably not.
I'm too scared.
She's too nice.
And these thoughts... they're all mine. Dirty little secrets I keep hidden.
It's the day after Christmas break starts, but school stuff doesn't stop.
Chaeyeon texted me last night asking if I wanted to study together at her place. Her parents are out of town visiting family or something, and she said it'd be quiet, just us, no distractions.
I said yes before I even thought about it twice.
Now I'm standing in front of her house. It's a nice house, bigger than mine, quiet neighborhood.
I ring the doorbell and wait, backpack heavy with books but my mind heavier with everything else.
The door opens and there she is, smiling big like always. She's wearing a loose pink sweater and leggings. No school uniform today, so her chest looks even bigger without the blouse trying to hold everything in. The sweater stretches across them, soft fabric hugging the shape.
"Hey! You made it," she says, stepping aside to let me in. "Come on, no one's home. Parents left this morning, won't be back till New Year's. We can study all day if we want."
Just us. All day.
I mumble a hi and step inside, trying not to look down, but I do anyway. Fuck, they're huge.
She leads me to the living room. There's snacks on the coffee table, drinks, notebooks spread out. Big couch, TV off. She sits down and pats the spot next to her.
"I figured we'd start with math since that's the hardest. I made flashcards too."
She's so prepared, so nice. Always thinking ahead.
We start studying. She's close, our knees almost touching. Every time she leans over to point at something in the book, her sweater shifts and I get a better view of how full they are. Soft. Heavy. I can see the outline of her bra under the sweater.
I'm trying to focus on the problems, I really am, but my brain keeps drifting.
This is it. We're alone. No one around. No one to interrupt.
What if?
What if I just... asked? Or more?
No, I can't. She's too nice. She'd hate me.
But what if she didn't?
We take a break after an hour. She gets up to grab more drinks from the kitchen, and I watch her walk away. The sweater rides up a little in the back, leggings tight on her ass, but it's her chest that pulls my eyes when she turns around.
"Want soda or water?" she calls.
"Soda's fine," I say, voice cracking a bit.
She comes back with two cans, hands me one, and sits even closer this time. Our thighs touch now. She doesn't move away.
"You're really good at this stuff," she says, opening her notebook again. "Explain that last problem one more time?"
I lean in to show her, my arm brushing against her chest accidentally. Soft. So fucking soft. Just the side, but it sends a jolt straight to my dick.
She doesn't pull away.
My mind goes blank.
This is the only chance. Ever.
I don't think.
My hand moves on its own.
I grab her left tit, full on, cupping it through the sweater before my brain even catches up.
It's heavy. Warm. Softer than I imagined.
She gasps, freezes.
I freeze too, hand still there, squeezing a little without meaning to.
Then it hits me.
What the fuck did I just do?
I yank my hand back like I touched fire.
"Oh god, Chaeyeon, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean—fuck, I'm sorry!"
She's staring at me, eyes wide, mouth open a little. Not moving.
I feel tears coming already. Panic. Shame.
"Please don't hate me," I blurt out, voice shaking. "I just—your chest is so big and I think about it all the time and we're alone and I lost it, I'm so sorry, please don't tell anyone, I'll leave, I'll—"
I'm rambling, standing up, ready to run out the door.
She grabs my wrist before I can move.
"Wait," she says quietly.
I stop, looking at her. Tears in my eyes now, blurry.
She's still sitting, looking up at me. Not mad. Not yelling.
Just... surprised?
"Sit down," she says softly.
I do, legs shaky.
"You... think about my boobs all the time?"
I nod, can't look at her face. Staring at the floor.
"How long?"
"Since... forever. Like, months. Every day."
She doesn't say anything for a second.
I risk a glance. She's biting her lip a little, cheeks pink.
"And you... want to touch them?"
I nod again, throat tight.
More than that.
Way more.
The words come out before I can stop them.
"I think about... putting my dick between them. All the time. When I jerk off. Every night. I'm sorry, I know it's gross, I know you hate me now—"
"I don't hate you."
I look up.
She's looking at me, not smiling, but not angry either.
"You're crying," she says, reaching out and wiping a tear off my cheek with her thumb.
"I'm sorry," I whisper again.
She takes a breath.
"I've noticed you looking. A lot."
I want to die. Real die.
"But... you never said anything. You're always so quiet and sweet."
I don't know what to say.
She shifts a little on the couch, facing me more.
"Do you... really want that? To... use them?"
My heart stops.
I nod slow.
She looks down at her chest, then back at me.
"I've never... done anything like that. With anyone."
"Me neither," I say fast. "I've never even kissed anyone."
She smiles a tiny bit at that.
"You're really worked up about this?"
I grin awkwardly
She thinks for a minute. Long minute.
I sit there, waiting to be kicked out.
"Okay," she says finally.
I blink.
"What?"
"Okay. But... just that. Nothing else today. And you have to promise not to tell anyone. Ever."
I can't believe it.
"Yes, yes, I promise."
She grins little, cheeks redder now.
"I kinda... wondered what it would feel like. If someone wanted mine that bad."
She pulls her sweater up slow, over her head.
Gulp.
Underneath, a simple white bra, struggling to hold everything. Her tits spill out the top, sides, massive and pale.
She reaches behind, unhooks it.
Lets it fall.
They're free now.
Bigger than I dreamed. Heavy, hanging a little, pink nipples big and puffy.
I stare, mouth open. Shit
She laughs softly, nervous.
"Go ahead. Touch them. Properly this time."
My hands shake as I reach out.
Both of them this time.
I cup them, lift a little. Fuck, so heavy. Skin so soft.
She lets out a little breath.
"Warm," you say.
I squeeze gently, thumbs brushing her nipples.
She shifts closer.
My dick is rock hard, straining against my jeans.
She notices, glances down.
"You can... take it out. If you want."
I fumble with my zipper fast, pull it out. It's throbbing, precum already at the tip.
She looks at it, eyes wide.
"It's... nice."
I almost cum just from that.
"Lean back," she says softly, pushing my shoulders a little so I'm against the couch arm.
I do, breathing hard, cock sticking up straight.
She moves in closer, on her knees between my legs now.
She cups her tits from the sides, pushes them together tight.
They're so big, they mash up perfect, a deep cleavage right there.
Then she leans forward, brings them down to my cock.
Slides it right between them.
Oh fuck. Fuck
So warm. So soft.
She presses them harder around me, wrapping my dick completely in her massive tits.
Better than any porn.
She starts moving, slow at first, up and down, her hands holding them tight so it squeezes me just right.
I groan, head back, watching her work.
Her tits jiggle a little with each stroke, heavy and full.
She looks up at me, cheeks flushed, biting her lip.
"Like that?" she asks quietly.
"Yes," I moan. "So good."
She smiles a little, goes faster.
The feeling is unreal. Her skin sliding on me, warm and smooth, the pressure perfect.
She's doing all the work, bobbing her chest up and down, my cock disappearing between them over and over.
Precum slicks it up, making it easier, wetter.
I'm not gonna last long.
Not even close.
"I won't cum on you," I say fast. "I'll pull out—"
"It's okay," she whispers. "If you want. On them."
That does it.
I thrust up a little, but mostly let her keep going.
A few more strokes, and I cum hard.
Ropes of it shoot up, hit her chin a bit, then drip down over her tits, sticky and white.
She keeps moving slow till I'm empty, milking it out.
I shake, groaning loud.
She holds them together a second longer, then lets go slow.
Looks down at the mess on her chest.
"Wow," she says softly. "A lot."
"I'm sorry," I start again.
She shakes her head.
"It's fine. Kinda... hot, actually."
I sit there, spent, dick softening.
She stands up slow, right in front of me, grab tissues from the table, cleans up slow.
"I'm… really wet right now."
Fuck.
I don't say anything. Can't.
Then she hooks her thumbs in the waistband of her leggings.
Pushes them down, along with her panties.
Just like that.
They drop to her ankles. She steps out.
She's naked from the waist down.
Her pussy is right there.
Smooth, shaved clean, lips puffy and pink, glistening.
I never imagined it would look this good. This perfect.
A little wet trail on the inside of her thigh.
It's small and neat, clit peeking out a little, lips swollen.
So fucking pretty.
She's just standing there, letting me look.
No hiding. No shyness now.
My mouth goes dry.
"Chaeyeon…"
She smiles soft.
"Thought you should see. Since you've been thinking about me so much."
I stare. Can't stop.
She steps closer, climbs onto the couch, one knee on each side of me.
Straddles my lap.
Her bare pussy brushes my jeans first, then settles right on my cock.
It's already getting hard again fast.
She's warm. Wet. I feel it through the fabric at first, then she reaches down, pulls my soft-but-growing dick out again.
Slides her pussy along it.
Up and down slow.
No penetration. Just sliding.
Her wetness coats me instantly.
Soft lips hugging the top of my shaft, clit rubbing against it.
"Fuck, Chaeyeon…" I groan, hands going to her waist automatic.
I grab her there, fingers digging in a little.
She's so warm. Skin soft.
She rocks her hips slow, grinding on me.
Her tits bounce under the sweater with each move.
I can feel how slick she is. Hear it even, quiet wet sounds.
She leans in, breath on my neck.
"Maybe we can do this," she whispers. "Just this. For now."
I nod fast.
"Yes. Please."
She keeps going, sliding back and forth, pussy lips spread around my cock now.
It's like fucking without being inside.
So hot. So wet.
Her clit bumps the head every time she moves forward.
She lets out little breaths, soft moans.
I hold her waist tighter, help her move.
She doesn't stop me.
We go like that for minutes.
Slow at first, then faster.
Her wetness everywhere now, dripping down.
I'm rock hard again.
She leans back a little, hands on my shoulders, grinding harder.
Her tits jiggle more in front of me.
I want to touch her tits again, but I don't. Not yet. Not without her words.
This is enough.
More than enough.
She starts breathing faster.
"Feels good," she says quiet.
"Yeah," I manage.
She slides faster, clit rubbing right on me.
Her thighs shake a little.
I feel her tense.
Then she gasps, pushes down hard, grinds slow.
Cums.
Quiet, but I feel it.
Her pussy pulses against my cock, more wet.
She shivers, holds onto me.
I'm close too, just from that. From feeling her cum on me.
"Don't stop," I say.
She keeps moving, slower now, riding through it.
A few more slides and I cum again.
Not as much this time, but still shoots up between us, hits her stomach, her pussy.
She doesn't pull away.
Lets it land
We stay like that for a while, her straddling me, my cum sticky between us, her pussy still resting warm and wet against my softening cock.
She's breathing slow now, head on my shoulder, arms loose around my neck. I keep my hands on her waist, thumbs rubbing small circles on her bare skin.
Everything feels unreal. Like if I move too fast it'll all disappear.
She lifts her head after a minute, looks at me close.
"You okay?" she asks soft.
I nod. "Yeah. You?"
She smiles, small and shy again. "Really okay. That felt… good."
Her hips shift a little, just a tiny rock, and I feel myself twitch against her. Already starting to get hard again. Third time today. I didn't think that was possible.
She feels it too, glances down.
"Already?" she laughs quiet.
"So.. sorry" I mumble. "Can't help it."
Her cheeks go pink. She bites her lip, thinking.
I slide my hands down a little, to her hips, then her thighs. Bare. Smooth.
She doesn't stop me.
I'm throbbing now, full hard again fast.
She rocks once more, slow, sliding her wet pussy along me.
We both breathe out.
I can't take it anymore.
My hands tighten on her hips.
I lift her a bit, gentle but firm, and twist us so she's on her back on the couch.
She gasps soft as I push her down, but doesn't fight it.
Her legs spread automatic, knees up.
She's bare now, wet it's shining from sweat. Everything, tits, body, pussy, and it's perfect, everything from her is perfect.
I kneel between her legs, cock sticking straight out, head red and leaking.
She looks up at me, eyes big, breathing fast.
I grab the base, line up.
The head brushes her lips.
She shivers.
"Just the head," I say, voice shaky. "I promise. Just the head."
She nods slow.
"Okay."
I push forward slow.
The tip slides between her lips, spreads them.
Warm.
So fucking warm.
Wet.
Tight.
Just the head pops in.
We both groan.
She's so tight around it. Squeezing already.
Her hands grab my arms.
I hold still, just the head inside, feeling her pulse around me.
"Fuck, Chaeyeon…" I whisper.
She's biting her lip hard, eyes half closed.
"Good?" I ask.
She nods fast.
"Yeah. Really good."
I don't move yet.
Just stay there, feeling it.
Her walls flutter around the tip.
So hot inside.
I wanna push all the way, bury it deep, but I promised.
Just the head.
I pull back slow, almost out, then push the head in again.
Slow.
In and out.
Just that much.
She moans soft each time it pops in.
Her hips lift a little, wanting more. But she doesn't say it.
I keep the pace slow, fucking her with just the head.
Her pussy makes it easy, so slick.
Every time I pull back, her lips cling to me.
When I push in, she takes it easy.
Her tits bounce under with each little thrust.
I lean down, rest on my elbows over her.
Close now.
Face to face.
She wraps her arms around my neck.
I keep moving, slow and shallow.
Just the head.
Over and over.
"You feel so good," I whisper against her mouth.
She kisses me then.
First kiss ever.
Soft. Sweet.
Her tongue touches mine shy. I groan into it. Keep thrusting slow.
She breaks the kiss, breathing hard.
"More," she whispers. "Please."
I freeze. "You sure?"
She nods. "Just… a little more."
I push deeper.
Halfway now.
She gasps loud.
Tight. So fucking tight.
Hot. Wet walls squeeze me.
I pull back, push again. Deeper this time.
Three quarters.
She moans, legs wrapping around my waist. Pulling me.
"Don't stop," she says.
I can't hold back now.
I thrust slow but full.
All the way in.
Bottom out.
She cries out soft.
Buried deep.
Her pussy flutters hard around me.
I hold still again, let her adjust.
"So full," she whispers.
"Yeah."
I start moving. Slow deep thrusts. Out almost all the way, then back in.
She takes every inch easy now, so wet.
Her moans get louder. Hands in my hair.
I kiss her neck, her jaw. Thrust faster.
The couch creaks a little.
Her tits bounce hard. I lean down, suck one nipple.
She arches.
Moans my name. First time hearing it like that.
I fuck her steady. Harder now.
She's close. I feel it. Her pussy tightens. Thighs shake.
She grabs my back. Cums hard. Walls pulse around me.
Squeezing.
Milking.
I can't hold it. I thrust deep one last time.
Cum inside her. Hot. Lots. Filling her.
She holds me tight. We shake together.
I stay inside, breathing hard.
Don't wanna pull out.
Ever.
After a minute, I lift my head. Look at her.
She's smiling soft. Eyes glassy.
"That was… wow," she says quiet.
"Yeah."
I kiss her slow. She kisses back.
I finally pull out gentle.
Cum leaks out of her. On the couch a little. She doesn't care.
You sit in the back of the taxi, watching the city lights on this cold Christmas night.
You're on your way to Minjeong's family home for the first time.
Minjeong sits next to you, her hand in yours.
"You nervous?" Minjeong asks, squeezing your hand. Her voice is soft, but there's a tease in it.
"A little," you admit. "First time meeting your family. What if they hate me?"
She laughs, leaning her head on your shoulder. "They won't. Mom's been asking about you forever. Dad… umm well, he's quiet, but he'll warm up. Just be you."
The taxi pulls up to a house in the suburbs, you pay the driver, and you both step out.
As you walk up the path, she stops and turns to you. "Remember our deal? We visit my family this Christmas, yours next year. No backing out."
"I wouldn't dream of it," you say, pulling her close for a quick kiss. Her lips are cold but soft, and she smiles against yours.
The door opens before you knock. A woman in her late forties stands there, beaming. "Minjeong! And this must be your boyfriend. Come in, come in! It's freezing out."
"Hi, Mom," Minjeong says, hugging her tight. "This is him. Babe, meet my mom."
You shake her hand, feeling a bit awkward. "Nice to meet you, Mrs. Kim. Thanks for having me."
"Oh, call me Aunt or just Mom if you want," she says with a wink. "Dinner's almost ready. Your dad's in the living room, watching the game."
Inside, the house smells like roasted turkey and pine from the Christmas tree. Her dad is on the couch, remote in hand. He's older, with gray hair, and nods at you without standing.
"Hello, son. Sit down."
Minjeong pulls you to the couch. "Dad, be nice. He's the one I told you about."
He grunts. "The one from the city apartment? How's that going?"
"Good," you say, trying to sound confident. "We like living together. Close to work and all."
Minjeong chimes in, "Yeah, Dad. Our place is small but cozy. We cook together, watch movies. It's fun."
Her mom calls from the kitchen, "Minjeong, help me set the table!"
Minjeong stands, but not before whispering in your ear, "See? Not so bad." She heads off, leaving you with her dad.
"So," he says, eyes on the TV. "What do you do for work?"
You explain your job in simple terms—office stuff, nothing exciting. He nods, asks a few more questions about your family, how you met Minjeong. It's stiff at first, but he loosens up when you mention liking sports.
Dinner is a ready, turkey, stuffing, veggies, and pie. Minjeong sits next to you, "Try the stuffing," she says. "Mom makes it best."
You take a bite. "It's great, Mrs. Kim."
"Call me Mom," she insists again. "So, tell us how you two met. Minjeong says it was at a coffee shop?"
"Yeah," Minjeong says, grinning. "I spilled my drink on him. Total accident."
"Was it?" you tease back. "I think you did it on purpose to talk to me."
She rolls her eyes. "You were the one staring."
Her parents laugh, and the mood lightens. Stories flow, about Minjeong as a kid, stubborn and smart, about your awkward first date where you got lost.
After dinner, you help clear plates. In the kitchen, Minjeong corners you by the sink. "You're doing good," she murmurs, her body close. "They like you."
"Really?" you ask, glancing at the door.
"Yeah. Mom's already planning our wedding in her head." She giggles, then gets serious. "Thanks for coming. Means a lot."
You kiss her forehead. "Anything for you."
Later, by the tree, her family exchanges gifts. Minjeong gives you a small box—a casual watch you mentioned liking. "For our time together," she says softly.
You hand her yours—a necklace with a snowflake pendant. "Because you're my Winter."
She blushes, putting it on. Her mom snaps photos, cooing.
As the night winds down, Minjeong yawns. "We should head back soon. Our apartment's waiting."
Her dad nods. "Drive safe. Come again."
Outside, in the snow, Minjeong links arms with you. "That wasn't bad, right?"
"Not at all," you say. "Your family's nice."
She stops under a streetlight, looking up at you "Let's go home. I want to celebrate our first Christmas alone."
You hail a taxi under the falling snow, and one pulls up quick. You open the door for Minjeong, sliding in after her. The driver nods, and you give him your apartment address. It's not far, maybe twenty minutes, but the holiday traffic makes it feel longer. Minjeong leans against you right away, her pink sweater soft on your arm.
"Tired?" you ask, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.
"Yeah," she murmurs, eyes half-closed. "Family stuff always wears me out. But it was good, right?"
"Definitely. Your mom kept pushing seconds on me. I think I ate enough for a week."
She smiles, nuzzling closer. "She's like that. Wants everyone full and happy." Her hand rests on your thigh, casual but warm. The taxi hums along, Christmas lights from houses flashing by. Snow sticks to the windows now, turning the world outside into a blur.
You stroke her hair, feeling the strands slip through your fingers. She's quiet for a bit, then says, "Thanks for the necklace. I love it."
"Glad you do. It suits you." You glance down; the snowflake pendant rests just above her sweater's neckline.
A few minutes in, her breathing evens out. Her head drops to your shoulder, heavy and relaxed. She's asleep, lips parted a little, looking peaceful but soft. You don't mind; it's cute. You pull out your phone quietly, scroll through some messages from friends wishing Merry Christmas. One from your buddy: "How's meeting the parents? Survive?"
You text back: "Yeah, went smooth. Heading home now."
The driver glances in the rearview. "Nice night for it. You two look happy."
"We are," you say, keeping your voice low. "First Christmas together."
He chuckles. "Ah, young love. Enjoy it."
You nod, watching Minjeong sleep. Her skirt rides up a bit from shifting, showing more of her legs, but you tug it down gently. No need to wake her. The taxi hits a pothole, and she stirs, mumbling something incoherent.
"Shh," you whisper, kissing the top of her head. She settles back, hand tightening on your thigh for a second before relaxing.
Finally, the taxi stops at your building—a simple apartment complex, lights dim in the lobby. You pay the fare, adding a tip. "Minjeong, we're here."
She blinks awake, rubbing her eyes. "Already? I passed out."
"Yeah, on my shoulder. Drooled a little too," you tease.
"Did not!" She swats your arm, laughing softly. "Liar."
You help her out, grabbing her fuzzy black bag. Snow's coming down harder now, sticking to her hair like tiny stars. She shivers, pulling her sweater tighter. "Brr. Let's get inside."
Your apartment's on the third floor, no elevator, so you climb the stairs. She's ahead, skirt swishing with each step. At the door, you fumble for keys while she leans on the wall, watching you with a smirk.
"Hurry up, it's cold," she says.
"Patience," you reply, unlocking it. Inside, it's warm— you left the heat on. The place is small: living room with a couch, TV, and a fake Christmas tree in the corner, lights still on. Kitchenette off to the side, bedroom down the hall.
Minjeong kicks off her shoes, sighing. "Home sweet home." She hangs her bag on the hook, then turns to you. "Want hot chocolate? Or something stronger?"
"Hot chocolate sounds good. With marshmallows?"
"Of course." She heads to the kitchen, pulling out mugs. You follow, leaning on the counter. She's humming a Christmas tune, measuring cocoa.
"You okay? Seemed like you crashed hard in the taxi."
"Yeah, just... family can be a lot. Dad grilled you, huh?"
"A bit. But I think he likes me. Asked about my job twice."
She stirs the milk on the stove. "That's his way. Means he's interested." She glances over, eyes playful. "Mom texted me already. Says you're 'handsome and polite.'"
You grin. "Score."
"Don't let it go to your head." She adds cocoa, stirring. The smell fills the air, sweet and cozy. You step behind her, arms around her waist.
"Missed this," you say, chin on her shoulder. "Just us."
"Me too." She leans back into you. "Visiting was fun, but I like our space."
You kiss her neck lightly, feeling her shiver—not from cold this time. "Yeah?"
"Yeah." She turns off the stove, pours the drinks. Adds marshmallows that melt slow. Hands you one. "Cheers to our first Christmas."
You clink mugs. "Cheers."
On the couch, tree lights glowing, you sip together. She's curled up next to you, legs tucked under. "What now? Movie?"
"Sure. Something holiday?"
She nods, grabbing the remote. Flips to a classic—Home Alone. "This okay?"
"Perfect." You pull a blanket over you both. She snuggles closer, head on your chest now.
Halfway through, she's laughing at the traps. "Remember when we tried making gingerbread houses last week? Ours collapsed."
"Yeah, your fault. Too much icing."
"Was not! You built the walls crooked."
You tickle her side. "Admit it."
"Stop!" She giggles, squirming. "Fine, maybe. But yours tasted better anyway."
The movie plays, but you're half-watching, half-focused on her. Her hand traces patterns on your shirt, absentminded. "Hey," she says during a quiet part. "What was your favorite Christmas as a kid?"
You think. "Probably when I got my first bike. Rode it all day in the snow, fell a bunch."
"Cute. Mine was when we went to grandma's. She baked cookies nonstop." She pauses. "We should start our own traditions."
"Like what?"
"I don't know. Maybe midnight walks. Or ugly sweaters."
You laugh. "You in an ugly sweater? I'd pay to see that."
"Deal. Next year." Her fingers slip under your shirt, cool on your skin. Not pushing, just touching. "Or... other stuff."
Your heart picks up. "Like?"
She looks up, eyes dark in the low light. "We'll see."
The movie ends, credits rolling. She stretches. "Bedtime? Or stay up?"
"Stay up a bit. Not ready to end the night."
"Me neither." She stands, pulling you up. "Come on, let's open the gifts we saved for home."
You'd agreed—family gifts there, private ones here. In the bedroom, under the small tree on the dresser, two packages wait. She grabs hers for you, wrapped in red paper.
"You first," she says, sitting on the bed.
You unwrap it: a framed photo of you two from summer, at the beach. Laughing, waves behind. "Love it. Thanks."
She smiles. "Thought it'd look good on your desk at work."
Now yours for her: a soft scarf, cashmere blend, in her favorite blue. "For cold days."
"It's perfect." She wraps it around her neck. "Soft."
You sit beside her, bed dipping. "Happy Christmas, Minjeong-ah."
"Happy Christmas." She leans in, kisses you slow. Not rushed, but deeper than before. Her hands on your face, yours on her waist. She pulls back, breathing a little heavy. "We should... talk about next year."
"Yeah?"
"Our deal. Your family."
You nod. "They're excited. Mom's already planning dinner."
"Good. I want them to like me too." She fiddles with the scarf. "Nervous, though."
"Don't be. They'll love you." You tuck her hair back. "Like I do."
She blushes. "Say that again."
"I love you."
"I love you too." Another kiss, her body pressing closer. You feel the curve of her under the sweater, but keep it light. Hands stay above waist.
She breaks away. "Want to change? Pajamas?"
"Sure." You both strip down—nothing new, you've lived together months. She slips into shorts and a tank, you into sweats. Back in bed, under covers.
She cuddles up. "Tell me a story."
"About what?"
"Us. Future."
You think. "Okay. Next Christmas, we host both families. Big dinner."
She laughs. "Yeah? And after?"
"After, we sneak away. Just like now."
"Mmm. Sounds good." Her leg hooks over yours. "Keep going."
"We travel. See snow somewhere fancy."
"Like mountains?"
"Yeah. Cabin, fire, hot tub."
"Ooh." She traces your arm. "Naked in the hot tub?"
She grins, kissing your jaw. "Sleep. But hold me."
You do, arms around her. She fits perfect, back to your chest. "Night."
"Night." Her voice fades, sleep coming.
You lie there in the dark, holding Minjeong close, her back pressed to your chest. The snow keeps tapping the window, and even with the heat on, the room feels chilly tonight. She shifts a little, pulling the blanket higher.
"It's cold," she whispers, voice sleepy but clear.
"Yeah," you say, tightening your arm around her waist. "Bed's not warming up fast enough."
She wiggles back against you, her butt fitting right into your lap. Even through pajamas, you feel the softness of her.
"Body heat's the best way," she murmurs, a small laugh in her tone.
You kiss the back of her neck. "You trying to start something?"
"Maybe." She reaches back, finding your hand and pulling it up under her tank top, resting it just below her breasts. Her skin is cool at first, but warms quick under your palm. "Just want to feel warmer. And closer."
You slide your hand higher, cupping one breast gently. She's not wearing a bra, and her nipple hardens against your fingers right away. "Like this?"
"Mmm." She pushes back again, slower this time, grinding lightly. You feel yourself getting hard in your sweats, pressing against her ass. "Yeah. Keep going."
You kiss her shoulder, then her neck, soft and slow. Your thumb circles her nipple, teasing. She lets out a quiet sigh, hand sliding down to rest on your hip, pulling you tighter against her.
"Take these off?" she asks, tugging at your waistband.
You lift your hips enough to push your sweats and boxers down, kicking them to the foot of the bed. She does the same with her shorts and panties, moving careful so the blanket stays over you both. Now there's nothing between you—just skin on skin, warm and soft.
She reaches back between her legs, guiding your cock so it rests along her slit. She's already a little wet, slick against you. "Just like this," she whispers. "Slow. Warm me up inside."
You rock your hips gentle, sliding back and forth along her without pushing in yet. Every move makes her breathe deeper. "Feels good?" you say against her ear.
"So good." She tilts her hips, and on the next slow slide, the head of your cock slips just inside her. You both pause, breathing together.
"Okay?" you ask.
"Yeah. More."
You ease in slow—inch by inch—until you're buried deep. She's tight and warm, hugging you perfect. Neither of you move fast; it's all lazy, cozy thrusts. Spooned together under the blanket, her back to your chest, your arm around her, hand still cupping her breast.
"Fuck, you're warm," she breathes, pushing back to meet each gentle stroke.
"You too." You kiss her neck again, then her jaw when she turns her head. Your free hand slides down her stomach, fingers finding her clit. You rub soft circles, matching the slow rhythm of your hips.
She moans quiet, biting her lip. "Don't stop. Just like this."
You keep it steady—deep, slow, warm. The cold is gone now; the bed feels like a little hot bubble just for you two. Her breathing gets faster, little gasps every time you bottom out.
"Close," she whispers, hand reaching back to grip your thigh.
"Come for me," you say soft in her ear. "Let me feel it."
A few more slow thrusts and circles on her clit, and she tenses, body shaking gentle against yours. Her pussy clenches around you in waves, warm and wet. She buries her face in the pillow to muffle the soft cry.
You hold deep inside her, letting her ride it out. When she relaxes, breathing heavy, she turns her head for a lazy kiss. "Your turn. Stay inside. Want to feel you come too."
You start moving again—still slow, still deep. The way she's squeezing you from her orgasm makes it hard to last. You bury your face in her hair, breathing her in.
"Minjeong... gonna come."
"Do it," she whispers. "Fill me up. Warm me more."
A few more thrusts and you let go, pulsing deep inside her. It's quiet, intense, perfect. You stay buried, arms tight around her as you both come down.
After a minute, she laughs softly. "Not cold anymore."
You kiss her shoulder. "Told you body heat works."
She laces her fingers with yours over her stomach. "Best Christmas present."
You wake up slow, sunlight sneaking through the curtains, soft and gray from the snow outside. It's morning—December 26 now—and the bed is still warm from last night. Minjeong's curled against you, her back to your chest like before, your arm draped over her waist. You can feel she's awake too; her breathing isn't deep anymore.
"Morning," she mumbles, voice husky from sleep. She pushes her butt back a little, right against your morning hard-on.
"Morning," you say, kissing the spot behind her ear. "Sleep good?"
"Best," she whispers. "Dreamed about you." Her hand finds yours under the blanket, guiding it down between her legs. She's already wet, warm and slick from last night still there. "Feel that? Woke up wanting you again."
You groan soft, fingers sliding easy along her. "You're gonna kill me."
She laughs quiet. "Good way to go." She rolls over to face you, eyes half-open, hair messy across the pillow. The blanket stays pulled high, trapping the heat. "Kiss me."
You do—slow at first, lips brushing, then deeper. Tongues touch, lazy and warm. Her leg hooks over your hip, pulling you closer. Your cock presses against her stomach, hard and ready.
"Inside," she breathes against your mouth. "Slow again. Like last night."
You shift, moving between her legs as she opens them under the blanket. It's cozy, dark, just your bodies and breath. You line up, push in gentle—one smooth slide until you're deep. She's so warm, so wet, hugging you tight.
"Fuck," you mutter, forehead against hers. "You feel perfect."
She moans soft, arms around your neck. "Move. Nice and slow."
You start thrusting—long, deep strokes, not fast. The blanket moves with you, keeping everything trapped and hot. Her hips roll up to meet each push, taking you all the way in every time.
"Like this?" you ask, voice low.
"Yes," she gasps. "Just like this. Don't stop."
You kiss her neck, then her lips again, swallowing her little sounds. One hand slides under her tank top, cupping her breast, thumb on her nipple. She arches into it, pussy clenching around you.
"You're so hard," she whispers. "Love feeling you first thing in the morning."
"Love being inside you first thing," you say back. You pick up the pace just a little—still deep, but steady now. The bed creaks quiet under you both.
Her nails dig light into your back. "Touch me," she says. "Need your fingers too."
You reach down between you, finding her clit with your thumb. You rub slow circles while you thrust, matching the rhythm. She gets wetter, tighter, breathing faster.
"Close already," she says, eyes locked on yours. "You make me come so easy."
"Come on my cock," you tell her, voice rough. "Want to feel it."
A few more deep thrusts, steady circles on her clit, and she breaks—body tensing, pussy pulsing hard around you. She bites your shoulder to muffle the moan, shaking under the blanket.
You keep moving through it, drawing it out until she goes limp, breathing heavy.
"Your turn," she whispers, legs wrapping tighter around your waist. "Come inside me again. Fill me up like last night."
You bury your face in her neck, thrusting deeper, faster now. The heat, the wetness, her voice—it's too much.
"Minjeong... fuck..."
"Do it," she urges, clenching on purpose. "Give it to me."
You come hard, pushing deep and staying there, pulsing inside her. Wave after wave, until you're spent, collapsed on top of her but holding your weight on your elbows.
You both stay like that, breathing together, still connected. The blanket is a warm bubble around you.
"Best morning ever," she says after a minute, smiling lazy.
"Yeah," you agree, kissing her soft. "Merry day-after-Christmas."
She giggles. "We should stay in bed all day."
"Don't have plans anyway."
She tightens around you one more time, playful.
"Last night was fun," she says, "Mom won't stop texting about how nice you were."
You grin. "Told you they'd like me."
"Yeah, yeah." She kicks your foot under the table. "But next year, your family," she said.
"Deal. They'll love you more than I do."
She laughs, rolling to your side, tucked her closer.
Outside, snow keeps falling quiet. Inside, it's just you two, nowhere to be.
You wake up in the morning, missing Hyeju already even though you only said goodnight a few hours ago.
She's your girlfriend for over a year now, she's been away for a few days on a short work trip, and the distance is killing you.
You grab your phone on the nightstand quick and hit the video call button before she even rings.
The screen lights up, and there she is, your beautiful girlfriend Hyeju, smiling sleepy-eyed at the camera. Her long dark brown hair is a bit messy from just waking up, falling over her shoulders.
She's wearing a simple white top that hugs her body just right, and those full lips are painted bright red, making her pout look extra tempting even in the soft morning light.
"Hey babe," you say, grinning as you prop your phone against a pillow so you can see her better. "Good morning. You look so cute right now."
She giggles, tilting her head and pushing some hair behind her ear. "Morning you. I miss you. Couldn't sleep good without you here." Her voice is soft and a little husky from sleep, and she leans closer to the camera, giving you that innocent wide-eyed look.
"I miss you more," you reply, your eyes roaming over her face, lingering on her red lips. "You put that lipstick on just for me?"
She bites her lower lip playfully, then nods. "Yeah, thought it'd make you smile. Do you like it?" She pouts a little, making a kissy face at the screen.
"Love it. Makes me wanna kiss you right now." You shift in bed, feeling that familiar heat building already. It's been a few days, and just seeing her like this is getting you worked up.
She laughs softly. "I wish you could. What are you doing today? Tell me about today."
You two chat for a bit about normal stuff, what you ate for breakfast, how work might suck later, her plans for the day.
She's sitting up in bed now, that blanket pulled up around her waist, her white top dipping low enough to show a hint of cleavage. Her hair keeps falling forward, and she keeps brushing it back, looking all fluffy and sweet.
"You're so pretty when you wake up," you say after a pause, your voice dropping lower. "That messy hair, those lips... makes me think about all the things I wanna do when I see you next."
She blushes a little, but smiles shyly. "Oh yeah? Like what?"
You smirk little, deciding to push it. "Like pulling you close, kissing that red lipstick off your mouth until it's all smeared. Then kissing lower..."
Her eyes widen, but she doesn't look away. "Babe... you're bad. It's morning!"
"Morning is the best time," you tease. "Come on, Hyeju. Show me more. Angle the camera down a bit. Let me see that top better."
She hesitates, biting her lip again. "You're really starting this now? We're just talking normally..."
"Yeah, but I miss touching you. Please? For me?" You give her your best pleading look.
She sighs but giggles, adjusting the phone so you get a better view of her body. She's leaning forward now, on her knees a bit, the white top stretching tight over her chest. "Like this? Happy now?"
"Fuck yes. You look so hot. Touch yourself a little. Over the shirt."
Hyeju glances around her room like someone might hear, even though she's alone. "Okay... but you too. I wanna see you."
You nod, pulling off your shirt quick and angling your phone to show your body. You're already hard just from looking at her. "See what you do to me?"
Her cheeks go redder, but she smiles. "Wow... I miss that." Her hand slides up her side, cupping one breast over the fabric. "Like this?"
"Yeah, just like that. Squeeze it harder. Imagine it's my hand."
She does, letting out a small moan. "Mmm... feels good. But not as good as you."
"Tell me what you're thinking," you say, your hand moving down to stroke yourself slowly on camera.
"That I want you here," she whispers, her other hand joining, pinching her nipple through the shirt. You can see it harden. "Want you to kiss my neck, bite me a little... then lower."
"Pull your top down, baby. Let me see those tits, been dreaming about them."
She looks at you with those big eyes. Slowly, she pulls the straps down, exposing her bare breasts. They're perfect, perky full, nipples hard from the cool air and excitement. "Better?"
"So much better. Play with them for me. Pinch your nipples."
She obeys, rolling them between her fingers, arching her back a bit. "Ah... babe, this feels dirty. But I like it."
"You look so sexy right now, Hyeju. That red lipstick, your hair all wild... fuck, I'm stroking myself thinking about sucking on those."
She moans louder, one hand still on her breast, the other sliding down her stomach. "Show me how hard you are. Please."
You adjust the camera, showing her your cock in your hand, stroking slow. "All for you."
"Oh god... I want that inside me." Her hand dips lower, under the covers. You hear the sound of cloth moving. "I'm touching myself now. Wet already."
"Tell me exactly," you groan, speeding up a bit.
"My fingers on my clit... circling it. Thinking about your tongue there instead." She's breathing heavier, her chest rising and falling.
"Slide them inside, baby. Fuck yourself like I would."
She nods, eyes half-closed. "Okay... ah, yes. Two fingers... I'm so wet for you."
You watch her face change, that cute pout turning into pleasure. "Look at the camera when you do it. Let me see your face."
She does, staring right at you as she pumps her fingers. "Babe... I need more. Tell me what you'd do to me."
"I'd flip you over, pull your hair, fuck you hard from behind while you moan my name."
"Yes... like that. Harder." Her free hand grabs her breast again, squeezing.
"Rub your clit faster. I wanna hear you cum."
She's rocking now, the covers slipping down to show her hand moving between her legs. "I'm close... talk more."
"You're my dirty girl, Hyeju. Those red lips would look so good wrapped around my cock right now. Sucking me while I finger you."
"Ah fuck... yes!" She cries out, body shaking as she cums, eyes locked on you.
That pushes you over, and you cum hard to your hands and stomach.
After, she's panting, smiling lazy at the camera. "That was... wow. Morning turned naughty quick."
You laugh, catching your breath. "Best way to start the day. Love you."
"Love you more. Can't wait to do that in person."
You talk a bit more, cleaning up, going back to normal stuff until you both have to hang up. But that call stays on your mind all day.
That night, after a long day, you finally get home and crash on the bed.
Your phone lights up almost right away - it's Hyeju calling. You answer the video call with a tired but happy smile.
Her face fills the screen, soft lighting in her hotel room making her look even prettier. She's wearing a tight black long-sleeve top, thin enough that you can clearly see the outline of her bra underneath, clings to every curve, stretching tight across her chest, her breasts pushed up and straining against it. Her long hair is down, framing her face.
"Hey you," she says softly, propping the phone up on something so she can lean back against the headboard. "Finally done with your day?"
"Yeah, just got in. Missed hearing your voice all day." You settle back too, getting comfy. "What about you? How was everything?"
She shrugs, the movement making the thin black top shift and hug her body even more. "Boring meetings mostly. Food was okay. I kept thinking about our call this morning though." She smiles shyly. "Made the day better."
You grin. "Same here. Couldn't focus half the time. Kept remembering how you looked when you came for me."
She covers her face with one hand, laughing. "Stop! You're gonna make me blush right away."
"Can't help it. You were so hot." Your eyes drop to her chest on the screen.
She glances down at herself, then back at you with a playful look. "This old thing? It's just comfy for the room." She pulls at the fabric a little, making it stretch tighter across her breasts. You can clearly see the lace pattern of her bra through it now. "You like it?"
"Like it? Babe, I can see your bra right through it. It's so tight on you. Your tits look amazing."
She bites her lip, shifting so the light catches the outline better. "I knew you'd notice. Thought maybe you'd want to see me in something different tonight."
"How was dinner? Tell me about your night first," you ask, voice already getting lower.
She starts talking about the restaurant she went to with colleagues, what she ate, some funny story about someone spilling wine. You listen, nodding, but your eyes keep drifting to how the black top clings to her waist, her hips when she moves. She's sitting cross-legged now, the thin sleeves hugging her arms.
"…and then I came back here and took a long shower," she finishes, running a hand through her hair. "Felt nice. What did you do after work?"
"Just gym quick, then home. Ate some boring chicken and rice." You pause, smirking. "Been thinking about you in that shower though."
She raises an eyebrow. "Oh yeah? What part?"
"You naked, water running down your body, touching yourself maybe… thinking about this morning."
Hyeju laughs softly, but her cheeks go pink. "Maybe a little. Couldn't help it after what we did."
"Show me more of that top," you say, leaning closer to your phone. "Stand up for a second. Let me see the whole thing."
She hesitates just a second, then sets the phone down and stands. She picks it back up, angling it so you see from her face down to her thighs. The black top is skin-tight, long sleeves ending at her wrists, the thin material almost see-through in the light. Her black bra is fully visible underneath, cups pushing her breasts up high, straining with every breath.
"Turn around slow," you tell her.
She does, giving you a view of her back, the top hugging her waist and the curve of her ass in tight pants. When she faces you again, she's smiling. "Happy?"
"So fucking happy. Come back to bed. Sit close to the camera."
She climbs back onto the bed, kneeling this time, closer to the phone. Her chest is right there now, the black top stretched so tight you can see the texture of her bra lace clearly.
"Touch yourself over it," you say quietly. "Just lightly at first. Trace your fingers over your tits."
Hyeju looks at you for a long moment, then nods. Her hands come up, slowly running over the thin black fabric, outlining her breasts. "Like this?"
"Yeah… exactly like that. Press harder. Feel how tight it is."
She does, cupping herself through the top, squeezing gently. The material is so thin it barely feels like anything's there. "Mmm. It's really thin, huh? You can see everything."
"I can see your nipples getting hard already," you say, and it's true—they're poking against the fabric now.
She glances down and laughs softly. "Your fault." One hand keeps rubbing, the other slides down her stomach. "Are you touching yourself yet?"
"Not yet. Waiting for you to tell me to."
"Good boy," she teases, then moans quietly as she pinches her nipple through the layers. "Okay… take it out. Show me."
You pull your pants down quick, already hard, stroking slow for her to see.
"God, I miss that," she whispers, eyes fixed on your hand. "Touch your tits more for me, babe. Pull the top up a little so I can see your stomach."
She grabs the hem and lifts it just enough to show her flat stomach, then higher, almost to the bottom of her bra. Her fingers trace her skin there. "I want your mouth here… kissing down."
"I'd kiss every inch," you groan, stroking faster. "Now pull it all the way up. Show me that bra properly."
Hyeju looks around the room out of habit, then slowly peels the tight black top up and over her head. She's left in just the black lace bra, full breasts spilling slightly over the cups. She tosses the top aside and leans closer again.
"Better?" she asks, voice breathy.
"Much better. Play with them. Push them together for me."
She does, hands cupping her breasts, squeezing them together so the cleavage looks insane. "Like this? You like watching me?"
"Love it. You're so sexy in that bra. Pinch your nipples now—hard."
She slips her fingers under the lace, pulling the cups down just enough to expose her hard nipples, then rolls them between her fingers. "Ah… yes. Tell me more."
"I'd suck those so hard right now. Bite them while I finger you."
Hyeju moans, one hand still on her breast, the other sliding down into her pants. "I'm so wet again already. This morning wasn't enough."
"Take the pants off," you say. "I want to see everything."
She shifts, pushing her pants down and kicking them off, now just in the black lace bra and matching panties. She spreads her legs a little, hand slipping inside the panties.
"Show me how wet," you tell her.
She pulls her fingers out, holding them up to the camera—glistening. Then she licks them clean, eyes on you. "All because of you."
"Fuck, Hyeju…" You're stroking fast now.
She slides her hand back down, rubbing herself openly now. "I need you so bad. Tell me what you'd do if you were here right now."
"I'd rip that bra off, pin you down, fuck you deep while you scream my name."
"Yes… please," she gasps, fingers moving faster. "I'm close already."
"Cum for me, baby. Let me watch."
She arches, crying out as she orgasms, body shaking, breasts bouncing in the bra.
You follow right after, groaning loud.
Afterward, she's panting, smiling at the camera as she pulls the covers up a little. "Two times in one day… you're turning me into someone bad."
"I love you bad," you say, catching your breath. "My favorite outfit of yours."
She laughs, picking it up and holding it to the camera. "I'll wear it when I get home. For real this time."
You talk a little longer, soft and sweet now, until you're both sleepy.
"Goodnight, babe," she whispers finally.
"Goodnight, Hyeju."
"Love you."
The next night you're already waiting when her call comes in. You pick up and Hyeju's face lights up the screen, cheeks pink, eyes sparkling like she's hiding the best secret.
"Babe! Guess what I did today," she says right away, barely letting you say hello.
You grin. "Tell me."
"So after all the boring work stuff finished, I had a couple hours free. I walked around the old town near the hotel and found this tiny little adult shop tucked between a café and a bookstore. Super cute from outside, like no one would ever guess." She leans closer and whispers, "I went in."
Your eyebrows shoot up. "You did?"
She nods fast, biting her lip. "I bought something… for us. Well, for me right now, but mostly for when I'm missing you."
She reaches off-camera and comes back holding a black silk bag. She opens it slowly and pulls out a realistic-looking dildo, skin tone, thick, maybe seven inches, with a suction base.
She holds it up to the camera, "Jjajan! Look at this thing. Feels super soft but firm. The lady said it's the most popular one."
You laugh, already getting hard just from how excited she looks. "Holy shit, Hyeju. You really walked in there and bought a cock that's not mine?"
She giggles, cheeks red. "I told the lady it was because my boyfriend is far away and I needed something that feels real. She totally understood." She runs her fingers up and down the shaft on camera. "It's kinda heavy. And look—" she presses the base to the nightstand and it sticks perfectly. "Suction cup. I already tested it in the shower earlier."
"You used it already?" you groan.
"Just a quick test," she says innocently. "Wanted to make sure it worked before I showed you tonight."
Tonight, she's wearing a soft pink satin camisole, thin straps, low neckline, her nipples faintly poking through the shiny fabric. Her hair is loose and a little damp like she just showered again.
"So… since it's my last night here," she says, voice dropping lower, "I thought we could have some proper fun. I want you to watch me use it. Like, really use it."
You're already pushing your boxers down. "Show me everything, baby. Don't tease too long."
She smiles and props the phone against a pillow, so you have a perfect view of the whole bed. Then she sticks the dildo to the headboard, right at mouth height first.
"First I need to get it wet," she says softly. She leans forward, lips parting, and slowly slides the head into her mouth. She moans around it, eyes locked on you, taking it deeper little by little until half is in, her cheeks hollowing as she sucks.
"Fuck, Hyeju… just like that."
She pulls off with a wet pop, strings of spit connecting her lips to the tip. "Tastes like silicone, but I'm pretending it's you." She licks up the side, then spits on it again, stroking with her hand. "Tell me how you want me."
"On your back first. Legs open. Rub it on your pussy over your panties."
She lies back, camisole riding up to show her flat stomach. She's wearing tiny black lace panties tonight. She spreads her legs wide for the camera and drags the slick head up and down the lace, gasping every time it bumps her clit.
"Already soaked," she whispers. "Feel how easy it slides?"
You're stroking slow, watching every move. "Take the panties off. I wanna see you stretch around it."
She hooks her thumbs in and slides them off, tossing them toward the camera so they land on the lens for a second. Then she's fully naked from the waist down, knees up, feet on the bed. She rubs the dildo through her wet folds, coating it more.
"Look how pink I am," she says, spreading herself with two fingers. "All for you."
"Put it in, baby. Slow."
She lines the head up and pushes. Her mouth falls open as the first couple inches sink in. "Oh fuck… it's thick." She pulls back a little, then pushes again, taking more. "Ahh… yes…"
You groan. "Deeper. All the way."
She nods, eyes fluttering, and slides down until the whole thing is buried inside her. She holds still for a second, breathing hard. "It's so deep… I feel full."
"Ride it. Show me how you'd ride me tomorrow night when you're home."
She grabs the headboard for balance and starts moving, slow at first, lifting up and dropping back down. The wet sounds fill the call. Her tits bounce under the satin top with every thrust.
"Talk to me," she pants. "Tell me I'm your good girl."
"You're my perfect little slut right now," you say, stroking faster. "Fucking yourself on that big cock because you can't wait for the real one."
"Yes… yes, I'm your slut," she moans, speeding up. The dildo glistens every time she lifts off it. "I'm gonna cum so hard on this thing thinking about you."
"Do it. I wanna see you squirt on it."
That pushes her. She reaches down and rubs her clit fast while slamming herself down harder. "Close… babe, I'm so close—"
"Cum for me, Hyeju. Right now."
She screams your name, whole body shaking, thighs trembling as she squirts a little, wetness dripping down the dildo onto the sheets. The sight sends you over; you cum hard, groaning loud enough that she hears and smiles through her aftershocks.
She slowly pulls off, the toy slipping out with a wet sound. She picks it up, still breathing heavy, and licks it clean right in front of you.
"Tomorrow night," she says, voice hoarse, "this thing is getting retired. I only want you inside me from now on."
You laugh, spent and happy. "Get your ass home, baby. I'm counting the hours."
She blows a kiss, cuddles under the covers still flushed and glowing. "See you tomorrow. Love you."
"Love you more."
You stand at the arrivals gate, heart beating faster than usual.
It's been almost a week without her, and those video calls only made you want her more.
The board flips—her flight has landed. People start coming out, but you keep scanning every face until you spot her.
There she is. Hyeju walks out pulling her small suitcase, looking even better. Her long brown hair is straight and shiny, falling over one shoulder.
She's wearing a tight black strapless top that hugs her chest perfectly, the ribbed fabric stretching over her breasts, showing off her shape in sight. Paired with light blue high-waisted denim that make her legs look endless. Simple necklace, red lips again, and that confident little smile when she finally sees you.
"Babe!" she calls out, speeding up and dropping her bag to run the last few steps.
You open your arms and she crashes into you, wrapping her arms tight around your neck. You lift her off the ground a little, hugging her hard, breathing in her scent.
"Missed you," you say into her hair.
"Missed you more," she whispers, pulling back just enough to kiss you deep right there in the middle of the airport, don't care who's watching.
You grab her suitcase with one hand, keeping the other around her waist as you walk out. "You look so good, Hyeju."
She laughs, pressing closer to your side. "I wore it for you. Knew you'd like it." Her hand slides down to squeeze your ass quick when no one's looking.
In the car, you throw her bag in the back and get in the driver's seat. She's already leaning over the console, kissing your neck while you start the engine.
"Drive fast," she says against your skin. "I need you now."
You pull out of the parking lot, one hand on the wheel, the other on her thigh. "Tell me about the flight. Boring?"
"Yeah, just watched some movies. Kept thinking about what we'd do when I got home." Her hand covers yours, pushing it higher up her leg, under the hem of her shorts.
"Like what?" you ask, glancing at her.
"Like you ripping this top off me. Fucking me the second we get inside." She bites her lip, eyes on you.
Your fingers brush the edge of her panties. "You're already wet, aren't you?"
She nods. "Since I saw you waiting. Touch me. Just a little."
You slide your hand fully under her shorts, feeling how soaked her panties are. She moans softly, spreading her legs as much as the seat allows.
"Good girl," you say, rubbing slow circles over the fabric. "Been waiting all week for this pussy."
"All yours," she breathes, head back against the seat. "Don't stop."
You keep teasing her the whole drive home, never enough to make her cum, just keeping her on edge. She squirms, grabbing your arm, begging quietly.
"Please... faster..."
"Not yet. Wait till we're home."
The second you park in the driveway, she's out of the car, pulling you by the hand to the door. You barely get it unlocked before she's on you again, kissing hard, pressing her body against yours.
Inside, you kick the door shut and push her against it. Your hands finally on that black strapless top you've been staring at. You grab her breasts over the tight top, squeezing hard.
"These tits in this top all day," you groan, kissing down her neck. "Drive me crazy on those calls. Now they're mine."
"Yes... touch me," she gasps, arching into your hands.
You peel the top down slow, exposing her bare breasts—no bra after all. Her nipples are already hard. You lean down and suck one into your mouth, biting gently while pinching the other.
"Ah fuck... yes," she moans, fingers in your hair.
You keep going, sucking and licking until she's grinding against your leg. Then you pull the top all the way off, tossing it on the floor.
"Shorts next," you say, unbuttoning them fast and pushing them down with her panties. She steps out, now completely naked except for her shoes.
She looks at you with those big eyes, red lips parted. "Your turn."
You strip quick, cock already hard and throbbing. She drops to her knees right there in the entryway, taking you in her mouth without a word.
"Fuck, Hyeju..." You watch her red lips slide down your shaft, taking you deep. Her tongue swirls, eyes looking up at you.
She sucks hard, one hand stroking what she can't fit, the other cupping your balls. Wet and messy, just how you like it.
"Those lips... finally around my cock," you groan, hand in her hair.
She moans around you, going faster until you pull her up.
"Not yet. Want to fuck you first."
You pick her up easy—she wraps her legs around your waist—and carry her to the bedroom. You throw her on the bed, climbing over her.
"Spread your legs," you say.
She does, showing how wet she is. You rub teasing your cock against her pussy.
"Please... inside," she begs.
You push in slow, watching her face as you fill her completely.
"Oh god... yes," she cries, nails digging into your back.
You start thrusting, deep and hard, her tits bouncing with every move.
"Harder," she gasps. "I've been waiting all week."
You grab her hips, pounding into her, the bed shaking.
"Yes... just like that... fuck me!"
You lean down, biting her neck, her shoulder, then sucking on her nipples again while you fuck her.
"I'm gonna cum," she moans, legs tight around you.
"Cum on my cock, baby."
She does, screaming your name, pussy clenching hard around you.
That sends you over—you pull out quick and cum on her stomach, groaning loud.
You both collapse, breathing heavy. She smiles up at you, tracing fingers through the mess on her skin.
"Welcome home sex is the best," she says, laughing softly.
You kiss her deep, tasting yourself on her lips. "We're not done yet. Round two on the shower."
She grins. "I love being home."
You spend the rest of the night making up for every day apart, slow and sweet, then rough again, until you're both exhausted and tangled in the sheets, her head on your chest.
a/n: first time writing e-sex, sorry if it's little cringe
Tags: fluff, friendship (maybe more, maybe not), slice of life
Word count: 5.2k
a/n: honestly, I don't know how else to explain it. I've always wanted to write something out of this fic's main premise, but the execution will have to speak for itself. it's just a short fluff fic, so here we go...
Velvet's Café had just opened four weeks ago, and business has been what one would expect, except tonight. It was only a street away from the nearest university, Seoul State, where some of its students and sometimes staff would either hang out and order something or make a stop to have a cup of iced americano, a latte, or some pastries to go.
“Kamsahamnida. Masitge deuseyo!” has been Kim Doyun’s usual farewell as they either walk into their tables or exit through doors with their takeouts. Maybe he shouldn’t have taken the job. But he needed something to make some money from, and what better way of doing it than accepting an offer from his first cousin’s expanding business. Perhaps he shouldn’t have accepted this as early as the second semester of freshman year. He could have spent nights like these hanging out with his friends after classes, instead of always going out on weekends, torn between exploring his young adulthood and staying home with his family while they talked about what was going on in the news or variety shows.
The moon was now hovering in the sky. It was the peaceful silence of nights like these that once convinced him to accept this shift, but now, he wasn’t so sure. Not even his phone was there to save his boredom. It was about 9:50 at night, and the only thing keeping him going at this point was the consideration of resigning, that was if his plea to change shifts to an earlier schedule was not possible. He was still a freshman, after all. He should not have been working his ass off this hard. Either way, the clock kept ticking and his foot was tapping on the floor to it, wishing he could start cleaning up instead of waiting for a single customer who might never come. He had to take in the fact, their café was still a small fish, perhaps the smallest one in a larger river dominated by hungry, hungry coffeehouse chains.
Within five seconds, Doyun felt the shivers trickling in his spine, the sharp and chilling sensation only made him clench his hands and consider turning the air conditioner off. Start taking off the leftovers. No one’s coming, he told himself as he lifted his right leg, with his right hand tugging into his apron. Just do it. Take it off and clean the place up.
That was until someone had triggered the café bells as they entered the saloon door. A woman, perhaps a student or a resident around Duyeon’s age. “Annyeonghaseyo.” His greeting wasn’t as lively as it was when he first worked, but it has been embedded into his brain that he could not go on without proper greeting, despite the fact that he was supposed to close pretty soon. Nevertheless, a customer’s a customer, he justified.
If there were any other workmates available at this hour, they probably would have told them off, yet for some reason, he just welcomed her inside because he knew he did not have the spine to do such a thing. Must be the naive or gentleman side in him, or both.
The woman simply gave a slight bow before proceeding to the pastry counter. She looks nice, his mind immediately babbled, noticing the small mole below the left side of her lips. Not that it mattered, but he has served people that caught his attention or stunned him while they ordered, but it was her unique high-pitched voice that caught this young barista off-guard once she opened her mouth. “Jogiyo. May I take some pastries to go?”
He almost shook his head in front of her while hearing her say this multiple times, but he also paid attention to where her fingers were pointing. “Oh—of, course... Do you not want a, uh, a drink to go to as well?” Was he feeling lightheaded? Was he also mistaken that her finger was pointing to basically all of the leftovers? He’s no stranger to mixing up orders, but he hasn’t gotten one wrong considering he repeats orders by the end.
“Can I?” It seemed like she didn’t just want the pastries. “I thought you’re closing in about ten minutes?” But the longer she talked, the more it made things clear for him. That’s just her voice, and it somehow enlivened him. “That’s what the sign says outside.” Made him more enthusiastic, like he was trained to behave as far as during his first shift.
“Yeah, but it’s okay, miss… If you want to order something, I can make it in time.”
“Oh… Okay then…” The woman quickly looked through the small menu right in front of her, not taking much more of his time. “Would an iced matcha latte be fine with you?”
“Ne,” he told her with a rapid nod. “What size would you like?”
“Just a medium cup will be fine,” she answered, maintaining her polite smile to him.
He completed the list, getting a grip on himself since it was practically just two sets of order from her. “Okay, I’ll just repeat your order. You want all of these pastries, and a medium cup of matcha latte.” This would’ve been less awkward with a lot more noise.
“Ne,” she simply answered before pursing her lips while slowly looking around the cafe.
He proceeded to process the overall payment on the cashier. His awkwardness in the air couldn’t even be more apparent, but the woman had sensed his discomfort and fixation moments ago. She had to warm up the tension for both their sakes, mostly for herself.
“It’s the voice, isn’t it?” she broke the ice of silence, her innocent eyes darting at him.
His eyes widened, like a rubber band being stretched to its limits. Caught. “Pardon?”
“You’re weirded out by my voice,” she addressed the elephant in the room, albeit with the harshest assumption she thought. “I sound like a child or I inhaled some helium.”
His heart was immediately flowing with guilt, but it gave him a push to defend himself. “Aniyo, aniyo!” Perhaps he should’ve been more courteous when she entered. But that would have been just us patronizing. It was pointless to argue with himself when she’s basically read his initial impressions of her. If he was not as unenthusiastic earlier, he would’ve greeted her just like anyone else. “That’s not the case, but I, ummm, I didn’t mean to make things awkward, miss.”
“Gwenchanayo.” He didn’t say or think anything yet aside from apologizing, but she immediately assured him. “It’s not the first time I’d heard of those things… I’ve kinda gotten used to it, that I assumed it’s—Dwaesseo.” She realized that the man’s neither a therapist or councilor, though his ears remained attentive. “How much is the payment?”
“Ah, yeah…” He informed her of the price, to which she pulled out her wallet. After their almost complete disastrous transaction, the barista handed her the receipt and made his last drink of the night while she sat on the chair nearest to the counter. He would’ve still been frozen by his small mess, but thankfully, she was on her phone. It seemed like she wasn’t as bothered by his reaction, but caution still kept his mind guarded while he got the ingredients and equipment to make the drink, putting his gathering of the pastries to a pause. Doyun would have gotten the bamboo whisk from the cabinet and made himself look fancier, but he didn’t want to take too much of the woman’s time.
Using the second best procedure he learned, he had to blend the matcha powder and hot water from the dispenser into a blender for thirty seconds. With something that he usually does in five minutes, Doyun was able to get it into the ice-filled cup within four, pouring in coconut milk on top. Closing the cup with the lip, the remaining minute was spent on reheating the pastries into the microwave. Unknown to him, the woman’s eyes had already shifted right at him. She was unsure whether to be concerned or impressed, but the limited time was enough for the barista to do his final order, whether for tonight or a long while, if he chose to step down after this shift.
As soon as a loud ring came from the microwave, the woman got up from her seat and walked into the counter. Doyun’s peripherals expected her movement. “It’s.”
“I don’t think your voice is weird,” he had to affirm to her. “I was just surprised when you first spoke, that’s all. It’s really unique. It is kind of feel-good, soothing in a way. And sounding like someone on helium without the need to do so sounds pretty cool… But that’s just my opinion.”
Sensing her lips slowly curve upwards, she opened her mouth with regards. “Ahhh…” She wanted to thank him, but a fraction of her pride held her lips shut.
“And I don’t mean that in a bad way,” he quickly added. “I mean feel-good like ASMR or that Lofi Girl if she had a voice. But actually, I was more surprised with you ordering all of the leftovers. You ended up pointing your fingers at all of the pastries, I wasn’t sure if I got your order right.” He had also meant to say cute, charming or adorable, but he kept himself from slipping words that might’ve gotten him in trouble. They’re both strangers.
The woman chuckled, shaking her head while his words had already gotten through her, making her feel more at ease. “It’s okay, you got it right. That’s my bad… From outside, I didn’t know half of them were already gone… I don’t want the rest of ‘em to go to waste.”
“We actually give most of our leftovers to shelters or deliver them to their suppliers by morning, so none of them would’ve been wasted regardless…” he informed her.
“Oh, really?” His clarification brightened her spirits up. “That’s a relief, then… I’ll still be taking all of it.” And yet, she was also unashamed of her own gourmand-driven decision.
“Sure thing…” He couldn’t hold in his chuckle, getting the tongs from the counter. “Believe it or not, it's actually nice to have the counter be cleared for one tonight.”
“Have there not been many customers here?” she wondered. His words weirdly felt like an insult that even she felt some guilt for not visiting this place sooner, given her desire to explore more new and fresh places around or outside the university campus.
“We’ve only been open for a month, so we’ve only been getting the most customers in the morning until afternoon… When it’s night, well,” he raised and extended his left hand into the empty seats and tables. “The place basically becomes a ghost town.”
“Seems like a really cozy place, though…” She admitted, though not in a pouty way, just more encouraging. “More people should come here whenever they just wanna study, or just hang out with their close buds. Or meet new folks… Especially even when it’s late.”
“With Ediya and Starbucks being a long staple around these parts?” He didn’t want to scoff nor make himself sound like he was doubting his own cousin’s business. “Well, I don’t know about that, but thanks for the compliment.” He could be both realistic and appreciative at the same time.
“Your menu has a lot of cheaper prices, so that’s one upper hand you have. And another, you guys are new, so there’s still a lot of room for discoverability.” He knew she brought up valid points, to his surprise. “In terms of the quality, well, I’ll be the judge of that.”
“Then I can resign if it won’t be satisfactory.” The woman’s eyes widened at his bet, but they ended up both laughing at their playful exchange as soon as she realized. He was confident about his craft, and oddly enough, she had trust in his earnest concoction, having witnessed his continual bursts of compliance and dedication from her seat.
“Would be nice to have this place open a little later, like around midnight,” she added, subconsciously pouting out of instinct while she took another scan of the cafe, a gaze that he followed. “If that’s something you considered, at least. It’s just a suggestion.”
“And if you want, I can give that suggestion to our manager... We’re related, actually.” Doyun didn’t have to say it, but he had to come up with something to stop his pauses. “She’ll probably hire a few more staff for it, but it’s not much of a problem when she’s already running her own bakery.”
“Oooooh…” Nevertheless, she was intrigued by openness, especially the last part. “Well, I’d like that… More people definitely would, if they get a chance to hang out somewhere at night. Staying inside our dorms tends to get boring, too… And not everyone’s a party animal.”
A small window to her routine gave him some clue about her. “You go to Seoul State?”
“I do,” she nodded at a moderate pace. “Just this year.”
His guess was right, after all, making him snicker. “Oh, same. I’m a freshman too.”
Her smile widened into a beam. It’s like she just met a new friend. “You’re kidding?” It didn’t even cross her mind, but it also made sense to her. “What major are you from?”
The shivers in his spine began to warm up. “I’m taking Marketing. How about you?”
“Mass Communication,” she simply answered.
“I see… That must be why you’re pretty honest and easy-going.”
His words sounded more sincere than flattering. “I don’t know. That’s just how I grew up… Decided it’d be convenient if they go hand-in-hand while I sort things out…” But she didn’t want to talk too much about her major. “And, uhh, Marketing, huh? Is that why you’re so good as a barista? You know your way into making caffeinated drinks… Hyping up and connecting with people while making their drinks.”
To him, she actually sounded more of a natural sweet talker than he tried to be.“It’s just a gig… Admittedly I’ve always been drinking coffee since high school… So maybe that’s why I got into it.”
“Too much caffeine isn’t good for you, you know?” she giggled.
He let out a sigh. “Yeah, I learned it the hard way," but it’s not just that... I thought cafés are pretty special places to be in. At least before things get busier eventually, I just think that’s the beauty of places like this. Some may call me a people pleaser, but even then, my job is pretty much just making them coffee by the end of the night, right? If someone like me gets too nosy and annoying for customers, then maybe we’ll just be replaced by those unmanned cafés everyone’s been going crazy for nowadays.”
His moment of vulnerability somewhat touched her. “Hmm… I know some folks like unmanned cafés, and I admit, I kinda get the appeal too, but I’d love and prefer if we have more willing and passionate baristas looking after their customers. Everything would be much less soulless. And there's nothing annoying with that… I don’t think machines can ever give a simple compliment or just be considerate, the way you do.”
He didn’t have much to add. “That’s, umm… That’s a considerate thing to say. Thanks.”
“That’s just my opinion,” she giggled, avoiding his gaze as she mirrored his words.
“Well, it’s one we sometimes need to hear.” Maybe even more than sometimes.
They remained standing in place, their smiles not resting at this renewed atmosphere they were able to accumulate just within minutes. For a moment, they forgot to realize they were just a barista and customer, until Doyun looked back at the packed pastry to his left, just lying on the table. The thought of it getting colder with every second made him panic for the quality of the food.
“Oh, right!” He carried the paper bag from his side onto the front of the counter. “Here are your pastries,” Followed by her drink. “...And your one medium iced matcha latte.”
With a soft bow, the woman picked up her takeouts from the barista, the warm bag on the left and her cold drink on the right. “Kamsahamnida.” Despite her polite gratitude, however, her legs have yet to move to the door.
Amidst their silence, Doyun noticed the current time on the clock. 10:15. “Omo, omo… I’m sorry for taking more of your time, miss!”
“No, no, don’t be,” she told him, even shaking her head just to convince him. “Don’t worry about the time… If it gets cold, I can just use my oven back at my dorm.”
Both his eyebrows raised in fascination. “You have an oven at your dorm?”
She couldn’t help but form a coy smile, yet she’s not embarrassed. “Just a small one.”
“Oh… Majayo,” he chuckled, in disbelief at himself for thinking of something more extreme. “That makes sense.” Even a large oven would not be surprising nowadays.
“Yeah… And by the way, do you have Instagram?” she asked him out of the blue.
“What?” He almost stuttered, still processing what she meant.
“The café, I mean,” she clarified. “Or any social account you may have.”
“I—ah…” He scanned the counter. Despite some pressure fueling him, he was briefed about this certain situation before by his cousin. He just never expected it to actually play out in person. “Oh, um, here it is.” His hand reached for a small laminated sign containing their social media accounts, as well as their various payment methods.
Placing both takeouts on the floor for a second, she held the sign with her left hand, typing the socials on her phone on her right as quickly as she could. “Seems like you didn’t know the café had an account.”
“I’m not the one handling it,” he explained. “So I don’t really have much of a clue what’s going on there. But whenever there’s something new to the menu, I’m sure it’ll be there.”
“That makes sense…” She slid her phone down on her pocket, before picking up her food and drink with both hands. “And I, uhh, I’ll stay tuned to that.”
Doyun immediately exited the counter the second she walked towards the entrance, getting there first so he could open the nearest sliding door for her. “I’ll get the door for you.”
“Oh…” It made him stop her tracks, but she didn’t want to keep him waiting or tire his arm out either. “Kamsahamnida,” she murmured while hurrying outside the door.
“You sure you don’t need any help with that?” he asked, extending his arm on the door.
Despite reaching the outdoors, she couldn't take her eyes off his arms and face. “Gwenchanayo… I can handle these. Appreciate it, though!” For the first time, something within herself was forcing her to start marching away. “But, umm… Kalkeyo!”
“Annyeonghi gaseyo…” he bowed and waved to her from a distance, before adding, “Masitge deuseyo!”
The whole afternoon he was sulking by himself, wishing himself out of this position of dealing with mundane tasks, he failed to realize what could still be special about it, all thanks to one late conversation with this delightful stranger. Still, the exhaustion this barista has gone through the whole month made him reconsider if being a barista at freshman year was the ideal extracurricular for him. Hence, he took a few days off.
= = =
Two days had passed and it was Thursday night. Doyun was already on his bed, about to close his eyes, when he got a call from his older cousin. A video call too, to his confusion. He could’ve pressed the reject button if he wanted, but she’s also his employer, and the possibility of getting another earful from her in person only made him answer the call, letting out a deep sigh and bracing himself for whatever she might spill around 09:20.
“Doyun-ah!” He had to lower his volume five bars, hearing her rejoice right into his ear. “I owe you a lot, kid… You've done a great job.”
He scratched his head, finding himself in a situation like Go Minsi receiving her award. “Uh, thanks, but about what exactly, Yerim-noona?”
“More customers came in person to your branch in Seoul State,” the older woman cheered. “And our bakery here in Seongdong-gu! Delivery’s always convenient for customers, but you got to understand, we here could only handle so much.”
Was he still dreaming? “How’d that happen?” A growth like this was almost sudden, but not necessarily unwelcomed for business, considering her main bakery’s already steady success, as if her still being there at this hour wasn’t enough to stress her dedication.
“You tell me. There’s this account on Instagram…” She sent him the link. “They might not have millions of followers, but to us, they’re kind of an icon for their post two days ago. Got us not just more followers, but we’re getting a lot of actual in-person orders.”
The username: ppangppanggo_0406. It’s a foodie account rather than a personal one. An account with 9,923 followers, not including himself, was only a year old. Their latest post was only posted two days ago, yet it gained more likes than her own follower count, more than a quarter of the university’s population. He did not have to look further. The entrance of the building. The date and time it was taken. All eight assorted pastries he took out of the counter. The iced matcha latte he made under pressure. The caption contained scores, ranging from 4.5 to 5 alongside brief assessments.
Within a few seconds, Doyun realized that only one person could have definitely taken these photos. Exhaling with a snicker, the young woman had become more of a mystery to Doyun, but nevertheless, he now has her to be grateful for. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to remind him he was appreciated. That it’s worth it.
“Huh… Wow… That’s pretty, wow… But why didn’t you think of that in the first place?” He teased her cousin, covering his own jittering brought by this accomplishment from being too obvious. He was a mere barista who took her offer because of making a quick buck, but he knew his cousin deserved this increasing growth and more.
“I was busy with our main branch, so I was hoping you could handle the accounts. If not, make more on others… I can give you the pass—” Her face of rejoice slowly turned into suspicion. “Jamkkanman, are you not following our socials? Doyun-ah?”
He sensed she would question him right there and there, so he got his fingers to work in a flash while his head hovered above the phone camera. “Iiiiiiiiiiiii just followed it now.”
Yerim hissed from her side of the call, her eyes darting at him with terror just right after seeing a familiar account follow the café’s account. “Waaaahhh, jinjja, Kim Doyun-ah! I ought to—Kid, this is not what I’m paying you to do, come on.”
“Mianhae, noona…” He held in his laughter. “I’ll take care of the accounts, if you want… But maybe I could ask for a slight change in our condition?”
Looking at the camera, his question made her pay full attention to him. “What is it?”
= = =
Friday. For him, classes ended in the afternoon, although his shift had a little change in schedule. The clock reached 10:30, and yet the café remained open. Not to mention the customers chilling on most of the tables, combined with people ordering their drinks to go. The café has gotten him a new cashier as a partner for this shift, thankfully a friend.
The sign of Velvet’s Café outside has extended its closing time during weekends, from the old 10:00 P.M. into the new 1:30 A.M., though nothing was final. It was still a trial period by this time, approved by none other than his cousin and the café's head founder, Kim Yerim. The scale and aesthetic of the café has lived to its true potential.
Even as late as this hour, groups of friends or couples would still find the time to order and sit down on wooden chairs, chilling as if they’re in a lounge, taking sips of their tea and coffee, with some having their desserts under the calming atmosphere, complemented by the lo-fi music played by the place’s newly installed speaker. Some of them would argue about the cultural impact of KPop Demon Hunters. Some would steal kisses from each other. Some focus on working on their laptops with their headphones.
If this lively yet cozy night couldn’t have made him more motivated in his job, the next group of customers to enter the café would make Doyun freeze in front of the cashier. His workmate scratched his head from his left, shaking his head and scoffing before heading straight back into the kitchen to substitute for Doyun’s tasks.
“You’re here again.” Her voice sounded even more angelic since the first time he heard. “I mean, it’s your shift again.” The woman had two friends walking behind her, looking at him with curiosity, yet it appeared as if they were expecting his particular presence.
“I had class throughout the last few days, but yeah… I’m back for the weekend.” At the same moment, he didn’t want to let the elephant leave the room. Not her voice. Or her bluntness. Not literally, anyways. But her voice gave him a wake-up call. “So, it’s you… Ppangppango?”
Her eyes briefly closed while her smile widened. “Yeah… I’m not too open about that, though. It’s just a little hobby of mine.”
“Well, your ‘hobby’ kinda gave our café a huge boost, you know?” he crossed his arms, trying and failing to maintain a professional tone, despite his eagerness to thank her.
“I didn’t do much,” she humbly countered. “Your products spoke for themselves. I just gave an honest review because well… They’re really amazing.”
“I–uh, kinda owe you on that one.” He sounded more vulnerable with his delivery.
The woman’s eyes widened, and yet, she felt comfort in his words. “Glad I can help.”
But despite this warm moment, Doyun had to keep up his professionalism as a barista when he noticed how merrily humorous the woman’s friends were acting behind her. He quickly cleared his throat. “So… what will you be ordering tonight, miss?”
“Miss?” the woman’s taller friend repeated, a teasing smile and gaze slowly forming as she gave her shoulder a little bump, signaling something only they were aware of. “He’s really calling you Miss?” the brown-haired friend murmured with a giggle.
The woman simply shook her head, immediately bending her smile into a slight frown. “Hayeon-ah. Are you girls gonna order or will tonight be your treat?” While remaining somewhat playful, her cadence hushed them, as if she was disciplining them like kids.
“Unnie!” Hayeon whined, but she knew this was a public space. “Arasseo, arasseo… I didn’t even say anything about him.” She shifted her attention to him. “But I will have… An iced mocha cappuccino. Medium cup... And maybe Chaewon-ah might catch up with us later. She’ll probably want one of these strawberry trifles.”
“So you can just take a bite out of it?” Shion sneered. “What will Chae think of that?”
“It might be her favorite, but we know she’s gonna be able to eat them all, anyways,” Hayeon shrugged. “A little nibble won’t hurt… I’ll give you a slice too, if you want.”
“Fine… Please add those to the orders,” she told the barista before facing her tall friend. “How about you, Lynn-chan?”
“Hmmm…” The taller woman looked through the glass, somewhat mirroring her friend’s habit that same night. I’ll have three buns of curry bread, three pieces of those cookies, and one medium cup of winter melon milk tea…” Lynn quickly took out a bill from her pocket to give to the woman, confounding her. “And here’s my part of the payment.”
With his mannerly nods, Doyun listed down and repeated her friends’ orders, and even though this task wasn’t assigned to him, his partner had already accepted he was stuck there until the end. The woman tried to reject Lynn’s cash, but the latter and Hayeon saw themselves to find a table, leaving her alone with him. “Okay. How about you—”
“Sion,” she interrupted, handing out her payment with a welcoming, friendlier gaze. She did not need to hear the total price, but she just wanted to unveil her own name, instead of just hearing ‘miss’ once more. “My name is Shion. And I’ll have a medium hot matcha latte… And a slice of chocolate cake.”
“Ah, right…” While processing the payment to her, he let his mouth talk. “Call me if you need anything else, Shion-ssi.” To the point where he couldn’t filter out and process his own words. “I mean we have a pager that you can use from your table, if you want to add something later… Or if you want… You can also call me by my name. Doyun.”
She expressed her amusement by exhaling through her nose as she received both her receipt and the pager from him. “Will do, Doyun-ssi... Gomapseumnida.” A quick and simple touch of their fingers made the barista feel not a spark, but more of a flutter in his chest, and still, he was too occupied with his job to even process such a feeling while the lady joined her friends at their table, with him being unaware that her face quickly shrank into embarrassment as they waved their arms and invited her with laughter.
He relayed the orders to his partner from the kitchen, who immediately prepared the ingredients for the drinks of the three. While there was yet another customer, Doyun picked up the tongs next to the pastry counter, which he slid open with more energy.
“Seems like you two are close,” his partner noticed as he placed a tray on the counter.
He straightened his posture. “Not at all… I just met her recently.” He turned to him, figuring out his assumption. “What makes you say that, Juho-yah?”
“Well, geunyang.” That wasn't enough of an answer, but the smirk in his face said it all. “She seems interested in you.”
His eyes squinted, his one eyebrow higher than the other. “How?”
Juho nudged his arm playfully. “Just an honest observation, dude… Besides, you took over the cashier instead of passing it to me, being my responsibility, so…”
“Huh… Did I, now?” He broke his own awkwardness with a light snicker. “Mianhaeyo.”
“It’s all right,” Juho assured. “Just start making the drinks, bro. I’ll handle the pastries.”
Doyun stole a glance to the women’s table, seeing Shion and her friends complain about their latest midterms project. The moment he looked away to plug in the blender and make the first drink, Shion was listening to Lynn and Hayeon’s critiques about their strict, two-faced professors, when her eyes slowly landed back on Doyun. Her fingers were subconsciously tapping onto the pager on the table, waiting not just for their order, but his attention.
= = =
It ain't much, but I hope you liked it, even though it's the same length as some of my one-shots. maybe I'll make a continuation, because I had scenarios of this played out (lol that's the problem with me). just not too soon, 'cause I'm focusing on writing up shorter fics of this certain length, if not shorter, within a well... short time.
anyways, I'll start working on my next short fic or one-shot asap. thank you for the read, take care, and have a nice day!
Three days later, 2 p.m.
The little bell above the cafe door jingles as you step in, Yoon spots you immediately, wipes her hands on her apron, and jerks her chin toward the empty corner table like she's been waiting.
"Sit. I'm on break in thirty seconds."
She brings two iced Americanos without asking, slides into the chair opposite you, and folds her arms. The playful smirk she usually wears is gone.
"So," she starts, voice low so the other baristas don't hear, "you survived the house meeting from hell. Congrats."
You wince. "Sieun told you everything?"
"Sieun told everyone everything. In detail." Yoon raises an eyebrow. "Sumin lost it. Full-on unnie rage. Stood in the living room at 8 a.m. screaming that you're turning the house into a harem and she's calling the landlord today. Demanded a vote on whether to kick you out."
Your stomach drops. "A vote?"
"Yeah. Six girls, one guy. Guess how that went."
She counts on her fingers. "J cried and threatened to move out with you. Sieun just laughed in her face. Isa said, and I quote, 'Try it and see what happens.' Seeun threatened to burn Sumin's portfolio if she dialed the landlord. I voted no because I'm tired of looking for new roommates. 5–1. Sumin was the only yes."
She sips her coffee, watching the way your shoulders sink.
"She hasn't spoken to you since, has she?"
You shake your head. The past three days Sumin has been a ghost: leaving for "interviews" before you wake up, locking her door at night, eating in her room. When you pass in the hallway she looks straight through you like you're made of air.
"It's not even about the sex," Yoon says quietly. "Well… not only. She's scared. She's the one who begged us to let a guy move in because rent was killing us. She feels responsible. And now she thinks she brought a wolf into the chicken coop and everyone's getting hurt—starting with J, then Sieun, Isa… and herself."
You stare at the table. "She thinks I'm playing everyone."
Yoon exhales. "She thinks she's the only one seeing clearly while the rest of us are too horny or too soft to notice we're being used. And the worst part? She's jealous and hates herself for it. That's why she's punishing you instead of just saying she likes you."
The words hit like cold water.
"Sumin… likes me?"
Yoon snorts. "Please. She's been different since the first morning you threw your jacket at naked her. Softer. Cooking extra portions 'by accident.' Fixing your busted bike without asking. Classic Sumin denial."
She leans forward, voice dropping even lower.
"Go home tonight. Corner her. Not in front of everyone—just you and her. Tell her the truth: that none of us feel played, that this house was already chaos before you showed up, and that if she wants you gone she has to say it to your face, not hide behind a vote."
Yoon reaches across and flicks your forehead, the old big-sister gesture that somehow makes your eyes sting.
"And if she admits she's scared of losing you too? Don't be an idiot. Listen. For what it's worth… I'm glad you're here, pyro. Even when you make everything complicated as hell."
The bell jingles again while Yoon is still looking at you, her eyes softer than you've ever seen them.
She freezes.
You follow her gaze. A girl in an expensive camel coat has just stepped inside, shaking rain off a black umbrella. Tall, sharp cheekbones, long straight hair still perfect despite the weather. She scans the room like she owns it, then smiles—small, polite, lethal.
Yoon's hand tightens around her empty glass so hard you hear the ice crack.
"Shit," she whispers.
The girl spots her at the same second. Her expression flickers: surprise, then something colder, like she's putting armor back on.
"Yoon-ah," she says, voice smooth, walking over as if the last five years never happened. "Still slinging coffee, I see."
Yoon doesn't answer right away. Her jaw is locked so tight you can almost hear it creak.
You've never seen her like this—small, suddenly seventeen again, shoulders folding inward.
The girl stops at the table, eyes flicking to you, curious, then back to Yoon.
"Didn't expect to see you," she says, softer now, almost gentle. "You look… the same."
Yoon finally speaks, voice flat. "What are you doing here, Xinyu?"
Xinyu? that's new name, you haven't heard from anyone.
"New office two blocks down. Thought I'd try the best coffee in the neighborhood." A pause.
The words hang in the air.
You feel the history without knowing the details yet: the way Yoon's fingers tremble slightly on the table, the way Xinyu's smile doesn't quite reach her eyes.
Xinyu pulls out the chair beside you and sits.
"I owe you an apology," she says quietly, looking only at Yoon. "I was a coward. I was terrified of what people would think, and I threw you away to save myself. I've hated myself for it every day since."
Yoon's eyes are glassy, "You don't get to walk in here after five years and fix it with one sentence."
"I know." Xinyu's fingers twist the umbrella handle. "I don't expect forgiveness. I just… needed to say it. Out loud. To your face."
Silence stretches, thick and painful.
You want to reach for Yoon's hand under the table, but you don't move. This isn't yours to fix.
Finally Yoon speaks, barely above a whisper.
"You destroyed me," she says. "I loved you so much it scared me too. And you made me the villain so you could keep your perfect life."
Xinyu's eyes fill. "I know."
Another beat.
"I hated you for years," Yoon continues, voice cracking. "Then I just… got tired. I built a family that actually wants me. Messy, loud, ridiculous girls who would burn the world down before letting someone hurt one of us." She glances at you, quick, meaningful. "I'm not that scared kid anymore."
She stands, smoothing her coat like it can smooth the past.
"I'll go," she says. "I just… needed you to hear it from me. I'm sorry, Yoon-ah. I'm so fucking sorry."
She walks out without waiting for absolution.
The bell jingles again. She's gone.
Yoon stares at the empty doorway for a long time.
Then she drops her head into her hands, shoulders shaking with silent, furious tears—the kind she's held in for half a decade.
You slide your chair closer, wrap an arm around her without asking. She leans into you, hard, like she might break if she doesn't hold on.
After a minute, she wipes her face roughly on her apron.
"Don't tell the girls," she mutters. "Especially not Sumin. She'll try to hunt Xinyu down with a knife."
"Your secret," you say quietly.
She exhales, shaky.
"God, I need a drink."
You stand, pull her up with you.
"Come on. My treat. Somewhere with soju."
You leave the cafe together, for the first time since you moved in, you're the one holding someone else together.
And you realize the house isn't the only thing that's complicated.
It never was.
Five years ago, late spring, senior year.
The window in Xinyu's room is cracked open, two of them are supposed to be study for the college entrance mock exam, but the textbooks have been abandoned on the floor for an hour.
Yoon sits cross-legged on Xinyu's bed, hair tied up in a messy bun, wearing Xinyu's oversized basketball jersey because she spilled iced tea on her own shirt earlier. Xinyu is sprawled on her stomach beside her, chin propped on folded arms, pretending to read English vocabulary flash cards.
Xinyu flips one card, reads aloud in a dramatic whisper: "Ubiquitous. Meaning: existing or being everywhere at the same time." She glances sideways. "Kinda like the way you're always in my head lately."
Yoon snorts, cheeks pink. "Shut up. Focus."
"I am focusing." Xinyu rolls onto her side, elbow propping her head, eyes soft. "On you."
Yoon's pencil stops moving. The room suddenly feels too small.
Xinyu reaches out, slow enough that Yoon could pull away. She doesn't. Xinyu's fingers brush a loose strand of hair behind Yoon's ear, then stay there, thumb grazing her cheek.
"You ever think," Xinyu says, voice barely above the cicadas, "that maybe we're not just best friends?"
Yoon swallows. "Every day since February."
Xinyu's smile is small, shy, nothing like the confident one she wears at school. "Me too. Scary, right?"
"Terrifying," Yoon admits.
Xinyu scoots closer until their knees touch. "I keep thinking about what it'd feel like to kiss you. And then I get mad at myself for being a coward."
Yoon's heart is hammering so loud she's sure Xinyu can hear it. "Then stop being a coward."
Xinyu's eyes flick to Yoon's lips, then back up. "Can I?"
Yoon answers by leaning in first.
Their first kiss is soft, clumsy, noses bumping, a tiny startled laugh from both of them, then perfect. Xinyu tastes like the peach gum she was chewing earlier. Yoon's hands find Xinyu's waist like they belong there. Xinyu sighs into her mouth, fingers threading into Yoon's hair, pulling her closer.
When they break apart, foreheads still touching, both are smiling like idiots.
"Wow," Xinyu whispers. "That was… wow."
"Shut up," Yoon laughs, breathless, kissing her again, deeper this time.
They fall sideways onto the pillows, textbooks forgotten. Xinyu ends up half on top, one hand under Yoon's jersey, tracing slow circles on her stomach.
"Is this okay?" Xinyu asks against her neck.
"More than," Yoon breathes.
Xinyu kisses down her jaw, her throat, lingering at the spot just below Yoon's ear that makes her shiver. Yoon's fingers slip under Xinyu's tank top, tracing the line of her spine.
"I've wanted to touch you like this for months," Xinyu murmurs. "Every time you wore that stupid red hoodie I just wanted to drag you somewhere and—"
"And what?" Yoon teases, voice shaky.
"This." Xinyu kisses her again, slow and deliberate, sliding a thigh between Yoon's. They move together instinctively, hips rolling, quiet gasps swallowed by each other's mouths.
Hours later, the room is dark except for the streetlight bleeding through the curtains. They're tangled under the thin summer blanket, clothes half-off, skin warm and sticky.
Xinyu traces lazy hearts on Yoon's bare shoulder. "I'm keeping you forever, okay?" she whispers.
Yoon kisses her wrist. "Promise?"
"Promise."
They fall asleep like that: legs intertwined, Xinyu's head on Yoon's chest.
Three weeks later.
The last week of June, the day the mock-exam results are posted.
The hallway is packed, humid with summer sweat and nerves. Yoon weaves through the crowd, heart light for once, clutching a peach-flavored candy Xinyu slipped into her pocket that morning with a note: meet me behind the gym after school ♡ don't be late, coward.
She's smiling like an idiot when she reaches the bulletin board.
That's when she hears it.
Xinyu's voice, sharp and loud, carrying over the noise.
"No, I'm serious! She's been following me around for months. I told her I just wanted to be friends, but she kept texting, showing up at my house… it's creepy."
A circle of girls from the dance team gasps in perfect unison.
Yoon stops dead.
Xinyu stands in the center, hair perfect, arms crossed, face twisted into something Yoon has never seen on her: disgust.
"I even found notes in my locker. Like, actual love letters. I felt bad at first, but it's too much. She's obsessed."
Someone whispers, "Wait… Yoon? Quiet Yoon from class 3-2?"
Xinyu laughs, cold and bright. "Exactly. I tried to let her down easy, but she wouldn't listen. Yesterday she cornered me crying, saying if I didn't date her she'd tell everyone I led her on. Can you imagine?"
The crowd swells. Phones come out.
Yoon feels every stare like needles.
She takes one step forward. Her voice comes out smaller than she wants.
"Xinyu."
The hallway goes quieter than should be possible.
Xinyu turns. For one split second her mask slips: eyes wide, lips parted, pure panic. Then the mask slams back down.
Yoon tries again. "That's… that's not what happened."
Xinyu's laugh is cruel now. "See? This is exactly what I mean. She can't take no for an answer."
A senior boy Yoon doesn't even know mutters, "Fucking psycho."
Someone else: "Didn't know she was like that."
Yoon's hands shake at her sides. The candy in her pocket feels suddenly ridiculous.
She looks at Xinyu, pleading with her eyes: tell them the truth. Tell them about the kisses, the nights, the promises.
Xinyu meets her gaze for one heartbeat, long enough for Yoon to see the terror underneath, then looks away.
"I feel bad for her," Xinyu says, loud enough for everyone, "but I can't let her ruin my life."
The crowd closes ranks. Yoon is suddenly on the outside of a circle that used to be her whole world.
She doesn't cry. Not yet.
She just turns and walks, shoulders curled in, the sound of laughter and whispers chasing her down the hall like wolves.
Behind her, Xinyu's voice cracks for the first time, so quiet only the closest girls hear:
"I'm sorry… I'm so sorry…"
But it's too late.
By lunch the entire school knows Yoon is the delusional gay girl who stalked the prettiest senior until she broke.
By the next day, Yoon stops coming to school for a week.
By the end of summer, Xinyu is dating the boy who called Yoon a psycho.
And Yoon learns, for the first time, how it feels to love someone so hard your heart rips in half when they hand you the knife.
She never tells anyone the real story.
Until five years later, drunk on soju and rain, she finally lets herself bleed again.
You and Yoon walk three blocks in the rain before you find a pojangmacha open, its orange tarp flapping, plastic stools slick with water. The ajumma inside doesn't ask questions—just slides two green soju bottles and a plate of sizzling pork belly across the counter.
Yoon downs half her first glass in one go.
You wait.
"Ask," she says finally, voice rough from the burn. "I know you're dying to."
You pour her another. "After Xinyu… did you ever date guys?"
She snorts, bitter. "Tried. Three, maybe four. Thought if I forced it, I could go back to being 'normal.'" She uses air-quotes, the word tasting bad in her mouth. "They were nice enough. One even lasted eight months. Took me to Jeju, bought me flowers, the whole thing."
She pokes at the pork with her chopsticks, not eating.
"It felt… polite," she says quieter. "Like we were both reading from a script. Kissing them was fine. Sex was fine. But it never caught fire. Never made my chest hurt the way—" She stops, jaw tight. "The way Xinyu did. One look from her and I forgot how to breathe. With the boys, I was just… breathing."
She downs the second glass.
"I realized I'm not bi. I'm just… gay. And I spent years punishing myself for it because the first girl who ever touched me decided I was a stain on her reputation."
The rain drums harder on the tarp. You pour again.
"And then," she laughs, wet and humorless, "I met Isa."
You raise an eyebrow.
"First day she moved in. Black hair, sharp eyes, that fucking smirk. Walked into the kitchen in an oversized tee and nothing else, stealing my coffee like she owned the place. My heart did the exact same stupid flip it did at seventeen." She drags a hand through her hair. "I wanted her so bad I almost dropped the pan."
She stares into her empty glass.
"But six girls in one house? Feelings get weaponized fast. Someone cries, someone moves out, rent goes up, everything fractures. I decided I'd rather keep the family than risk it on a crush. So, I became the tough girl. The one who carries everyone, fixes everything, never asks for anything back."
She finally looks at you, eyes red-rimmed but steady.
"Until you showed up and suddenly everyone's feelings are on the table anyway." A broken laugh. "Guess I can't outrun this shit forever."
The ajumma slides another bottle over without being asked.
Yoon lifts it toward you in a mock toast.
"To first loves that ruin you," she says, voice cracking, "and second chances that scare you even more."
You clink your glass against the bottle.
"They don't have to ruin you," you say quietly.
She smiles—small, tired, real.
"Maybe not," she whispers. "But they sure as hell leave scars."
She leans her head on your shoulder, just for a second, the weight of five lost years settling between you like the rain that won't stop falling.
And for the first time since you moved in, Yoon—the unbreakable one—lets someone carry her.
The soju bottles are empty.
Yoon's head is on the table, cheek pressed to the sticky plastic, mumbling something about "stupid pretty girls with stupid pretty lies." Her eyes are glassy, cheeks flushed red from alcohol and old hurt.
You pay the ajumma, she waves off the change with a knowing smile, and haul Yoon up. She's heavier than she looks, all sarcasm and muscle memory. She loops an arm around your neck, legs unsteady.
"Pyro… you're warm," she slurs, face buried in your shoulder. "Don't leave me too, okay? Everyone leaves."
"I'm not going anywhere," you tell her, and she makes a small, broken sound that punches you straight in the chest.
The rain has slowed to a drizzle. You half-carry, half-drag her the three blocks back to the cafe. It's near end of her shifts, her boss and some staffs are on the counter.
Boss looks up when the bell jingles, sees Yoon draped over you like a very drunk scarf, and sighs the sigh of a man who's done this before.
"She okay?" he asks.
"Just… very drunk," you say.
He snorts. "Rare sight. Yoon drunk off her ass. Usually she drinks the rest of us under the table." He jerks his thumb toward the back door. "Take her home, kid. I'll cover her shift for the rest."
Yoon lifts her head long enough to spot him. Her eyes narrow into slits.
"Ya, Kim-ssi," she yells, voice cracking, and flips him a very wobbly middle finger. "Your latte art still looks like a dying cat."
Then her head drops back to your shoulder, out cold.
Her boss just laughs, fond and tired. "Tell her she's opening tomorrow."
You nod, adjusting your grip so she doesn't slide down. Her breath is warm against your neck, slow and even now, the fight drained out of her.
Outside, the street is quiet. You shift her into a proper piggy-back, her legs dangling, arms loose around your shoulders, and start the walk home. She's heavier than Sieun, heavier than J, but you don't mind. Her weight feels like trust.
Halfway there she stirs, mumbling into your hair.
"…sorry I'm heavy."
"You're not," you lie.
"…sorry I'm messed up."
"You're not," you say again, softer.
She presses her forehead to the back of your neck, voice barely audible.
"Don't let Sumin kick you out, okay? If you go… everything falls apart again."
Her fingers curl weakly into your shirt, holding on like you're the only solid thing left in the world.
"I'm not going anywhere," you promise for the second time tonight.
She exhales, long and shaky, and goes limp, fully asleep against your back.
The house is dark when you push the door open with your shoulder, Yoon still heavy on your back.
You toe off your shoes, climb the stairs slow so the old wood doesn't creak too loud. Her room smells like coffee grounds and the vanilla candle she never lights.
You ease her onto the bed. She's limp, drunk-soft, hair fanned across the pillow. You tug her socks off, unbutton the damp work shirt, peel it away gently. She stirs only enough to murmur something lost in sleep.
You pull the blanket up to her chin, set water and pills on the nightstand, turn to leave.
Her hand shoots out, fast even drunk, fingers closing around your collar. She pulls, hard. You stumble forward, knees hitting the mattress. Before you can catch balance her mouth is on yours.
The kiss is raw, desperate, tasting of soju and rain and five years of things she never said. Her tongue slides against yours like she's starving. Her other hand fists your shirt, drags you down until you're half on top of her, the mattress dipping under your weight.
She arches, needy, pressing herself flush against you. You feel her heartbeat hammering through the thin tank top she still wears. Her legs part; you settle between them without thinking, hips slotting together like they were made for it.
Her hands are everywhere, under your shirt, nails scraping down your back, tugging at your belt with clumsy urgency. You help her, shoving jeans down, kicking them off. She yanks your shirt over your head, mouths at your neck, your collarbone, teeth sharp enough to mark.
You drag her tank top up and off, her breasts spill free, nipples already hard. You close your mouth over one, sucking hard, and she gasps into your hair, hips rolling up to grind against the bulge in your boxers.
She hooks her thumbs in your waistband, shoves everything down. You're bare against her, hot and aching. She spreads her thighs wider, guides you in with a trembling hand.
You push inside in one slow thrust. She's slick, burning, clenching around you like she's been waiting years for this. Her head tips back, throat exposed, a broken sound escaping as you fill her completely.
You move together, urgent, almost bruising. The bed creaks beneath you, her nails dig into your shoulders, anchoring. Every thrust drags a soft, wrecked noise from her throat. She locks her ankles at the small of your back, pulling you deeper, meeting every snap of your hips with her own.
It's not gentle. It's not sweet. It's grief and want and apology and confession all at once.
Her breath hitches, body tightening, you feel her start to unravel. You slide a hand between you, thumb finding her clit, circling fast. She comes hard, walls pulsing around you, face buried in your neck to muffle the cry.
You follow seconds later, burying yourself deep, spilling inside her with a low groan against her shoulder.
After, she doesn't let go. Arms tight around your neck, legs still tangled with yours, she holds you like you might vanish if she loosens her grip even an inch.
You stay inside her, foreheads pressed together, breathing the same air.
The room is quiet except for rain on the window and two heartbeats slowing into the same rhythm.
She falls asleep first, fingers still curled into your hair.
You pull the blanket over both of you, kiss the corner of her mouth once, soft.
Morning light creeps through the blinds in thin, guilty stripes.
You wake first. Yoon's still wrapped around you, one leg thrown over yours, her face tucked into the crook of your neck. Her breath is warm and slow, lips parted, the sharp edges of last night softened in sleep. There's a faint bruise blooming on her collarbone where you sucked too hard, another on the swell of her breast. Your own back stings from her nails.
For a long minute you just lie there, heart thudding too loud, trying to piece together what the hell just happened. The soju, the rain, Xinyu, the tears, then this: raw, wordless, necessary.
Yoon stirs. Her hand slides up your chest, slow, like she's checking you're real. When her eyes open they're puffy, bloodshot, but clear. No regret. Just quiet, heavy recognition.
She doesn't speak. Neither do you.
She presses her forehead to yours, exhales shakily, then kisses you: soft, slow, morning-sweet. It's not hungry like last night; it's careful, like she's asking permission after already taking everything.
You answer by rolling her gently onto her back, settling between her thighs again. She's still slick from last night, from both of you. You slide inside her easy and slow, watching her eyes flutter shut, lips part on a silent gasp. Her hands find your shoulders, not clawing this time, just holding.
You move together like that, unhurried, almost reverent. The headboard doesn't bang. The bed barely creaks. It's quiet enough to hear her breath hitch every time you bottom out, quiet enough to feel her heartbeat under your palm when you brace it over her chest.
She comes first, soft and shuddering, a single tear slipping from the corner of her eye into her hair. You follow right after, burying your face in her neck, muffling the sound against her skin.
After, she keeps you inside her, legs locked around your hips like she's afraid distance will break whatever this is.
Eventually she whispers, voice hoarse, "Don't tell them yet."
You nod against her shoulder.
"I need… time," she says. "To figure out what I want before the whole house explodes again."
You kiss the tear track on her temple. "We'll go slow."
She laughs, watery and small. "We're already naked and full of each other. Slow might be ambitious."
You both smile at that, small, secret, real.
She traces the scratches on your back with gentle fingers. "Sorry," she murmurs.
"Don't be," you answer.
She pulls the blanket higher, tucks her head under your chin.
"Stay till I fall back asleep?" she asks, already halfway there.
You tighten your arms around her.
"Sure."
You ease Yoon's door shut with the softest click, barefoot, shirt half-buttoned, hair a disaster. The hallway is still dim, everyone else asleep or pretending to be.
You turn.
J is leaning against the wall right outside Yoon's room, arms crossed, bunny slippers, oversized sleep shirt slipping off one shoulder, eyes wide and way too awake.
She raises an eyebrow so high it nearly touches her hairline.
"Morning, roomie," she whispers, voice syrupy with mischief. "Did you just come out of Yoon's room looking like you lost a fight with a lawnmower?"
You freeze, finger already at your lips in a desperate shh.
J pads two steps closer, sniffs the air dramatically, then grins like she just won the lottery.
"You smell like sex and soju," she stage-whispers. "Also Yoon's vanilla candle. Bold choice."
"J, please—"
She holds up both hands, fake innocent. "Relax, I'm not the house loudspeaker… yet." She tilts her head, studying the fresh red scratches peeking above your collar. "She's got claws, huh? Respect."
You try to edge past her toward your room. She mirrors you, blocking the hallway like a tiny, evil goalie.
"Spill or I scream 'GROUP MEETING' right now," she threatens, lips twitching.
You sigh, defeated. "It just… happened. She was drunk. Upset. One thing led to—"
J's eyes go soft for half a second, then sparkle again. "Aww, you big softie. Comforting our scary girl with your magic dick. Classic hero move."
"J."
"Kidding!" She punches your arm lightly. "Look, your secret's safe. For now. But I want details later. Over pancakes. With extra syrup. And you're making them shirtless."
You roll your eyes so hard it hurts.
She leans in, suddenly serious. "Just… don't hurt her, okay? Yoon acts tough, but she's the one who holds us together. If you break her, we all break."
The teasing is gone. Her voice is small, honest.
"I won't," you say quietly.
J searches your face, then nods once, satisfied.
"Good boy." She pats your chest like you're a large, obedient dog. "Now go shower before you stink up the whole house. I'll stall anyone who asks."
She spins on her heel, bunny slippers flopping, already humming as she heads downstairs.
Halfway down she calls back without turning, "Also, you've got a hickey the size of Jeju on your neck. Cute!"
You slap a hand over it and bolt for your room, heart racing, praying the rest of the house stays asleep just a little longer.
Tags: Fluff-Smut, Titfuck, Blowjob, Public sex, Cowgirl, Doggystyle, Creampie
Synopsis: Natty and Chris are childhood friends, both of them are stucked into each other. Even their own parents are teasing them for being the cutest 'couple'. Quite surprising that both of them stayed as friends.
School's field trip, supposed to be a normal overseas trip turned into something risky and passionate.
"I won't marry a crybaby like you!"
"I won't either marry an ugly idiot like you!"
These are their usual banters. Kids being kids. As they grew up into teenagers, Chris slowly gets awkward with Natty. From tanned, skinny kid who he used to tease her 'flat as cardboard'; now blossomed into beautiful, fair skinned woman with assets that never fail to make boys twist their necks.
Natty is still stucked on him. Despite she already has girl friends, she walked along and ate lunch with him. Some thought they're in a relationship but neither one of them tries to talk about it.
He's in the art club while Natty is on the dance club. He usually watching her dancing at the auditorium. Few people are there to watch as well. Most of them are men who just came for Natty.
Whenever Natty's dance moves turned into sexy-ish. These men cheered and whistled for her while him couldn't even steer his gaze away from her.
There's a time when after the dance routine, she walked towards to him to grab the water bottle from him and hydrate herself. Chris looked at her drenched in sweat. The tight crop top clings to her sweaty skin. His eyes saw a bead of sweat slowly goes into the tight valley of her breasts.
Unfortunately for him, Natty noticed it. "Eyes up here, stud." She giggled as Chris tries his best to regain his composure. She grabbed the towel from his hand and dries herself with it.
○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●
Two months later. Field trip.
As the bus filled with chattering classmates, Natty sauntered over to where Chris was sitting by the window, her hips swaying slightly. She plopped down in the seat beside him with a grin. "Hey there! Mind if I join you on this little adventure?" she teased, her voice light and playful.
Chris's eyes widened as he took in Natty's appearance. The thin white fabric of her top did little to conceal the curves of her ample breasts, the lacy edges of her black bra peeking through. He swallowed hard, trying not to stare too obviously. "O-oh, hey Nat." he stammered, feeling his face flush.
Natty noticed his gaze lingering on her chest and smirked knowingly. "Bet we will have a great adventure today, right?"
Chris absent-mindedly nodded at her. He tries his best to look at something instead of the enticing view of her chest.
As the bus rumbled along the highway, the excited chatter of the students gradually died down. One by one, they drifted off. Soon, only the soft snores and vehicle noises could be heard.
Natty glanced around, sensing that their classmates are already fallen asleep. Her gaze settled on Chris, who's engrossed in his book, seemingly oblivious to everything else. A mischievous glint appeared in her eyes as an idea formed.
She leaned in closer to Chris. "Hey, remember back when we were younger? You used to tease me about being flat as a board." she whispered, a note of amusement in her voice. "Well, looks like the joke's on you now, huh?"
Chris frozen as Natty pressed herself against him, the soft weight of her breasts cushioning his arm. He could feel the heat radiating from her body, smell the sweet scent of her perfume. It took every ounce of willpower not to let out a shuddering groan.
"C'mon Nat, that was ages ago! I was just messing around like we always do." he whispered back, his voice strained. "Besides, I've grown up since then. I'm not that kid anymore."
Natty simply smirked, clearly enjoying the effect she was having on him. She leaned in even closer, her lips nearly brushing his ear as she spoke. "Mmm, but these haven't stopped growing, have they? They're so soft and heavy now… I bet you're dying to get your hands on them, aren't you Chris?"
Natty pulled back slightly, fixing Chris with a challenging gaze. "Admit it, Chris. Admit that I'm no longer the scrawny little girl you used to tease. Tell me how much my body have changed, how beautiful and womanly i've become…" Her voice dropped to a husky whisper. "And I'll let you feel how soft and full they are." She arched her back subtly, emphasizing the swell of her cleavage mere inches from his face.
"What do you say, hmm? Ready to eat your words and worship these instead?"
Chris's resolve crumbled under Natty's smoldering gaze and the tantalizing proximity of her voluptuous curves. His tongue darted out to wet his suddenly dry lips as he struggled to form a response. "I… I admit it, okay? You're not flat anymore, Nat. Far from it." he breathed, his voice low and rough with barely restrained lust. "Your... tits are fucking incredible. So big and round and perfect…"
Natty's smile widened, a pleased hum escaping her as Chris finally gave up. "Mmm, that's more I like it. I knew you'll appreciate how womanly I've become." she purred, pressing even closer until her hardened nipples were visibly straining against her bra.
With a swift and daring motion, Natty hooked the hem of her thin white top and tugged it upwards, exposing the creamy swells of her breasts barely contained by the lacy black cups of her bra. The flimsy garment did little to hide the rosy peaks of her nipples, visibly stiffening under Chris's heated gaze.
"Go on then, touch them. I want to feel you all over my tits." she urged breathlessly, arching her back to present her ample bosom to him like an offering. "Don't be shy now, I know you wanted it sooooo badly."
Chris's trembling hands made contact with the supple flesh of Natty's breasts. He cupped the heavy globes reverently, marveling at their weight and softness. Natty let out a breathy moan, pressing herself more fully into his palms. "Mmm yes, just like that… Your hands feel so good on my tits." she purred, her eyelids fluttering shut in bliss.
Emboldened by her reaction, Chris began to knead and massage the pillowy mounds, his thumbs brushing over the straining peaks of her nipples through the thin lace. He could feel them hardening even further under his ministrations, poking insistently against the delicate fabric. "Fuck Nat, they're amazing… So big and sensitive."
Just as Chris was losing himself in the sensation of Natty's breasts filling his hands, she suddenly pulled away and slid gracefully down to kneel between his legs. His eyes widened in surprise as she deftly unfastened his belt and popped open the button of his jeans. "Whoa! Nat, what are you doing?!" he gasped, equal parts shocked and aroused by her bold move.
Natty looked up at him through her lashes, a wicked grin playing about her glossy lips. "Oh, I think you know exactly what I'm after, stud. I remember seeing something rather… unimpressive down here a few years back. But I bet you've grown up nicely in more ways than one, haven't you?"
Natty's fingers wrapped around Chris's thick cock, giving it a slow, appreciative stroke. "Well well well, You got one impressive thing down here, hmm?" she cooed admiringly, her thumb swirling around the sensitive head, smearing the bead of pre-cum that leaking.
She leaned in closer, her hot breath ghosting over his length as she admired it from base to tip. "Mmm, so big and hard already… And all for me. I knew you couldn't resist these tits." Natty purred, giving her breasts a little jiggle for emphasis. Her hand continued its slow strokes, exploring every throbbing inch of him.
Natty leaned in, her pink tongue darting out to lap at the swollen head of Chris's cock, lapping up the bead of precum that had formed. Then, with a wicked gleam in her eye, she spit directly onto his cock, coating it in a sheen of saliva. "Let's put my assets to work, shall we?" she purred sultrily.
Keeping a firm grip on his slick cock, Natty guided it to nestle between the soft, pillowy breasts. Her bra is enough to squeezed them together around his throbbing cock, enveloping him in velvety warmth. "Mmm, doesn't that feel nice? My big, soft titties wrapped around your huge, hard cock…"
Natty began to slide her breasts up and down Chris's slick cock, the soft flesh yielding and conforming to every ridge and vein. She set a steady, sensual rhythm, moaning softly as she pinched her sensitive nipples with each stroke. "Ohhh fuck yes, your dick feels so good between my tits… I love how it pulses and throbs against me." she panted, picking up the pace slightly.
Her eyes locked with his, dark with lust and mischief as she worked him over. Droplets of saliva dribbled down her chin as she focused intently on pleasuring him, determined to make him lose control. "That's it baby, just relax and enjoy the ride. Let my big, beautiful breasts milk your cock until you explode all over them…"
Lost in a pleasure, Chris could only groan and thrust his hips slightly, pushing his aching cock deeper into the heavenly valley of Natty's cleavage. The wet, slick friction combined with the tantalizing view of her breasts bouncing with each movement was rapidly pushing him towards the edge. "Holy shit Nat, your tits feel incredible… I don't know how long I can last." he grunted, his abs tensing as he fought to hold back his impending release.
Natty merely smirked up at him, doubling her efforts. She leaned down to suck his cockhead, tongue swirling around it while she keeps stroking using her breasts. "Mmm, that's the point, stud. I want to feel you throb and twitch as you paint my tits with your hot, sticky cum."
With a strangled cry, Chris felt his balls tighten and his cock pulse urgently between Natty's soft breasts. The coil of tension in his lower belly snapped, sending shockwaves of ecstasy coursing through him as he erupted. "FUCK, Natty!" he groaned, his hips jerking erratically as thick ropes of cum shot forth, splattering obscenely across the pale swells of her breasts and the valley between them.
Natty moaned in delight, continuing to pump his spurting cock with her breasts as he rode out his intense orgasm. "Yes, that's it baby, give me every last drop…"
As the final spurts of Chris's climax painted Natty's heaving bosom, she released his spent cock and sat back on her seat, admiring her handiwork. Globs of his thick semen coated her breasts, dripping down to pool in her cleavage. She scooped some up with her fingers and brought them to her mouth, sucking them clean with a sultry moan. "Mmm, Kinda salty but not entirely unpleasant…" she purred, her tongue darting out to lap at the remnants on her fingers.
Chris took a moment to look in the erotic sight of her - flushed cheeks, glistering lips, and breasts glazed with his release. She leaned close, bringing her face close to his as she whispered,
"That was just the beginning, Chris." She leaned back on her seat, grabbing a handful of wet tissues from her purse to clean the mess on her chest.
Glancing around to ensure no one had witnessed their lewd activities, Natty quickly adjusted her clothing, smoothing her shirt back into place and crossing her legs primly as if nothing happened. Only the satisfied smile creeps on her face.
○●○●○●○●○●○●○●
Later on, the bus is stopped at it's destination. As the group of chattering students followed their teacher along the winding path, Natty slipped her hand into Chris's, tugging him off the main trail. He stumbled after her, confused, until they found themselves standing alone in a narrow, dimly lit alleyway, far from the unsuspecting crowds.
"What the hell, Nat? Where are we?" Chris looked around at the grimy brick walls and scattered trash cans. "We should be with the class."
Natty turned to him, a sly grin spreading across her face as she leaned in close. "Relax, Chris. I just wanted a little privacy to continue our earlier exploration." she purred, her hand sliding down to palm the bulge already starting to form in Chris's pants.
Natty pushed Chris into the wall and suddenly lifted off her shirt. With a flick of wrist, she finally unclapsed her bra. Making her ample breasts jiggling free from it's tight confines.
His jaw dropped as Natty's breasts sprang free, the soft mounds practically spilling out of her bra. He stared, transfixed, at the creamy flesh and the surprisingly large areolae surrounding her dusty-pink nipples.
Natty laughed at the stunned expression on his face, her own eyes sparkling with mischief. "Like what you see, big boy?" she teased, stepping closer and pressed herself against his. "These weren't just meant for staring, you know. I want to feel your mouth on them, explore me like a land you never explored before."
Chris wasted no time in claiming Natty's enticing breasts, his hands kneading the pillowly flesh as he sucked her nipple deep into his mouth. He lavished attention on the sensitive peak, rolling it between his tongue and teeth while his other hand palmed her opposite breast, tweaking the stiffening bud into a pert nub.
Natty gasped and arched into him, her head falling back against the cold bricks as she threaded her fingers through his hair, holding him close. "Yes, just like that… Oh god! Chris!"
The sound of traffic and chatter from the distant serves as a reminder of their risky situation, but neither of them seemed to care about it, too lost in the heat of their lust.
Chris couldn't handle it anymore as he spun Natty around, Pressing her front against the cold wall. His hands moved with urgency, yanked down Natty's shorts. He could see the dewy droplet of arousal clinging to her aching clit, begging to be tasted.
With a growl, Chris let go his raging cock from his pants. He rubbed the swollen head against her soaked slit. The slick friction sent sparks of pleasure racing up to their spine, it urged him to claim her right then and there.
"Fuck, Nat, you're so wet for me already… I can't wait to fuck this tight little cunt."
Natty whimpered and rocked her hips back against Chris, seeking more of that delicious friction against her aching clit. The head of his cock parted her slick folds, teasing her entrance as he held her still, savoring the moment.
"Please, Chris, I need you inside me… Fill me up!" she pleaded, her voice hitching with desperation. "I want you to fuck me hard against this wall!"
Like an obedient puppet he is, his hips snapping forward to bury his cock to the hilt in Natty's welcoming heat. They both cried out at the intense pleasure, her inner walls clenching tightly around his invading length.
Instantly, Natty's face contorted in a mixture of pain and pleasure as his cock stretched her virgin passage to its limits. The raw intensity of the sensation left them momentarily breathless, her nails digging into the brick wall as she struggled to adjust to the unfamiliar fullness.
"Yes, oh god yes… It hurts, but it's so good!" Natty managed to gasp out. "I've wanted this for years, Chris… Wanted you to be my first, my only…"
Chris's heart pounded in his chest as he watched Natty's face twist with a mix of pain and pleasure. "Don't worry, Nat, I've got you… Just breathe and let go." he murmured, his hands settling on her hips as he began to move, setting a slow, steady pace to help her get used to it. "You're doing so damn good, taking my cock like it was made for you…"
As Natty's hips started to meet his thrusts, Chris leaned in to capture her lips in a searing kiss, pouring all his desire and affection to the woman who's part of his whole life.
His hands roamed greedily over Natty's curves, cupping and kneading her plush breasts as he continued to piston his hips, driving his cock deeper into her quivering core with each powerful thrust. Her arms tightly around his neck, pulling him closer as she arched her back, pressing themselves together.
"Oh fuck! Chris, harder please!" Natty urged, her voice a breathy moan punctuated by the lewd slaps of skin on skin as their bodies collided.
Sensing Natty teetering on the brink of her climax, Chris intensified his movements, slamming into her with reckless abandon as he chased his own impending orgasm. The alley echoed with the rhythmic pounding of their coupling, the lewd sounds of flesh meeting flesh growing louder with each thrust.
"That's it, Nat, come for me… Milk my cock with your sweet little cunt." Chris growled, his fingers digging into the flesh of her hips as he angled his thrusts to hit that sensitive spot deep within her. "I'm gonna fill you up. Fuck! I'm close!"
Natty's back bowed sharply as the first waves of her climax crashed over her, her inner muscles clamping down on his pistoning cock like a vice. "CHRIS! OH GOD YES!"
At the same moment, Chris buried himself to the hilt, his cock pulsating violently as he spilled his hot seed deep inside Natty's spasming cunt. Their combined cries of pleasure filled the alley, mingling with the frantic beat of their hearts as they rode out the intensity of their shared orgasms.
As the aftershocks subsided, Chris slowly withdrew, his softening cock slipping free of Natty's well-fucked pussy with a wet pop. They stood there for a moment, chests heaving, exchanging dazed, sated smiles.
After a while, Natty quickly cleaned herself up with the tissues, wincing slightly as she wiped away the evidence from her now-unvirgin cunt. The cool air of the alley did little to soothe the tender, swollen clit.
Once she was presentable again, Chris helped guide her arms into her shirt. As he fastened her bra and adjusted her clothes, Natty leaned into him, savoring the closeness and the afterglow of their shared experience.
"Thanks for that, Chris." she murmured, looking up at him with a playful smile. "You fucked me well, Big boy."
Chris chuckled. "You're irresistible, Nat. How could I hold back when your body is so fucking inviting."
Natty giggled. She rubbed her nose against his. "Thanks to the nature. I've grown into someone who you can't resist."
They quickly rejoin their fellow classmates which they stopped infront of the restaurant. Chris flashed Natty a playfull wink as they fell into step beside each other once more, the rest of the class unaware of their secret.
"My gosh, You two. Where you guys have been? I'm worried sick here!" Their homeroom teacher, Mrs. Jung's face is mixed of worried and relief as soon as she saw them together.
"Sorry, Mrs. Jung. Natty wanted to go to the bathroom. So I walked along with her." Chris explained. He quickly formed an believable excuse of their sudden disappearance.
Mrs. Jung just sighed in relief. "Next time, Don't just leave without saying anything. Okay?" They both nodded. Part of them felt guilty for worrying their 42 year old homeroom teacher but they also relieved that she believes their white lie.
1:43 am, Natty couldn't sleep in a hotel room with three girls sleeping soundily. Their noise isn't a reason why but it's Chris and their earlier explorations still reeling in her mind. She grabbed her phone and typed-
○●○●○●○●○●○●○●
'Hey, You awake?'
Chris went back to reality as his phone vibrates on his hand. He's also couldn't sleep at this late hour. He checked the message and typed a reply-
'Yeah. Why?'
'Glad you are. Come outside, I miss you already.'
It doesn't take long before Chris gets off from the bed and carefully goes to the door without waking others up and start being suspicious about him leaving the hotel at this hour.
As soon as they reunite, Natty guided Chris to the nearb beach. The sound of the waves crashing against the shore providing a soothing backdrop. Once Natty led him to the part of the beach where large boulders where it will be a cover of her risky plan, she turned to him. Her eyes gleaming with mischief and desire.
Without waiting for a response, she captured his lips in a searing kiss, her tongue delving past his lips to dance with his own. Her hands roamed over his chest, fingers deftly working open the buttons of his shirt as she pressed her curvy form against him, igniting a renewed hunger in both of them.
"I couldn't stop thinking about you all day, Chris." Natty purred, stepping closer until her body pressed against his. "That little creampie we had earlier wasn't nearly enough to satisfy me. I need more… I need you to fill me up again."
"Oh fuck! Nat, your mouth feels incredible… Just like that, baby." Chris gasped, his fingers tangling in her hair as he watched her work, mesmerized by the way her cheeks hollowed with each downward stroke.
Natty pushed him down on the sand. Chris's breath hitched as Natty knelt between his legs, her hands freeing his straining erection from his pants. Instantly, she wrapped her lips around the swollen head, her warm, wet mouth engulfing him to the hilt. A low, guttural groan tore from his throat as she began to bob her head, sucking him expertly.
Natty hummed around Chris's cock, the vibrations sending pleasurable shudders through his shaft. She increased her pace, sucking him with wild abandon, driven by her insatiable hunger for his taste. Her free hand slid down to cup and massage his heavy balls, coaxing more of his essence.
Just as Chris was about to cum, Natty pulled back, her lips glistening with his precum. She looked up at him with hooded eyes, a sultry smile playing on her lips as she has different plan.
Hoarse groans escaped Chris as Natty's skilled mouth worked him over, pushing him closer to the edge. The salty sea air mixed with the musky scent of their lust, heightening the erotic atmosphere. Natty could tell Chris was nearing his limit, his hips bucking involuntarily as she took him deeper, swallowing around his thick girth.
Chris opens his eyes. His breath heavy as he watched Natty and her playfull smile. "Nat, What the--"
Chris's protest dissolved into a startled gasp as Natty suddenly undressed herself, leaving her exposed and vulnerable under the starlit sky. Before he could even speak more, she sank down onto him, her slick heat enveloping his throbbing cock in one smooth motion.
"Fuuuck, Nat… You're fucking insane." Chris breathed, his voice husky with awe and lust.
His eyes widened in disbelief as he watched Natty ride him, her naked form glowing ethereally in the moonlight. The sight of her bouncing breasts, the sway of her hips, and the lewd squelch of their joining was almost too much to bear. He gripped her waist, guiding her movements as she set a slow, sensual pace, grinding her clit against his pubic bone with each downward plunge.
As Natty picked up speed, her breasts bounced freely, casting hypnotic shadows on his eyes. The erotic sight, coupled with the relentless rhythm of her hips, drove him to the brink of madness. He met her downward thrusts with upward ones of his own, plunging deeper into her welcoming heat.
"Natty, shit… I'm getting close!" Chris warned, his voice strained with the useless effort of holding back his impending release.
Their mouths fused in a heated kiss, tongues entwining in a lewd dance. His hands groped Natty's ass, fingers digging into her skin as he lost himself in the overwhelming sensations.
"Don't you dare to hold it back, Chris. I want it all until the very last drop! Fill my fucking womb!"
Natty's words ignited a fierce possessiveness within Chris, fueling his desire to claim her again and again. With a primal grunt, he surged upward, meeting her downward strokes with brutal force. The sound of their flesh slapping together echoed across the deserted beach, a symphony of raw, animalistic pleasure.
With a final, powerful thrust, Chris buried himself to the hilt once again, his cock erupting in a torrential flood of hot semen. Natty's inner walls clenched around him, milking every last drop as she rode out her own climax, her body shaking with the force of her release.
"You want it, Nat? You want my cum deep inside you?" Chris growled, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he neared the climax. "Then take it, fucking take it all!"
As the final waves of their orgasms washed over them, Chris and Natty collapsed into each other, panting and spent. They lay there, tangled in a mess of limbs and sweat-soaked skin.
Slowly, Chris opens his eyes to gaze at Natty, his expression softening with tenderness and adoration. "Goddamn it, Nat… If you keep this up, It will the death of me." he whispered, brushing a strand of hair from her flushed face.
Natty chuckled at his words, Her eyes rolled dramatically. "Chris… You're being dramatic." she replied, snuggling closer to his warm body. That earned his soft laugh.
"I want to play in the ocean right now, You'll join me?" Natty suddenly asked. Chris blinked few times before he nodded.
Hand in hand, Chris and Natty walked into the gentle surf, their laughter carrying on the cold breeze as they engaged in a playful water fight. The cool ocean water enveloped their naked bodies, providing a refreshing contrast to the heat of their passion.
As they splashed and giggled, Chris found himself marveling at the serendipity that had brought him and Natty together. From childhood friends to secret lovers, their journey had been unpredictable yet perfect in its own way.
Natty's eyes widen at his confession. Her smile grew ear to ear as she wrapped her arms around his neck. "Are you seriously asking me that? Of course! I would love to, Chris. Yes, yes, yes!"
Lost in thought, Chris turned to Natty, his eyes searching hers in the moonlight. "You know, I never imagined we'd end up like this… But I can't picture my life without you." he confessed, his voice tinged with emotion. "What do you say we make this official?"
Under the silvery glow of the full moon, Chris and Natty shared a tender, meaningful kiss, sealing their newfound commitment to each other. The ocean lapped gently at them, as if nature itself was a blessing.
Tags : Aprhodisac, Seductive, Roleplay, Mother in law, Woman on top, Dom women, Sex under influence.
Lenght : 11000 words.
Previous chapter
With a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. Her voice was a soothing melody like seductive, but there was an underlying tension that you couldn't ignore. "Nice to mee you, Mr. Lee Jung, I am Wonyoung's mother and my name is Kwon Eunbi.
Kwon Eunbi.
The woman before you was elegance personified, draped in a gown of deep emerald satin that shimmered under the soft chandelier light. Every gesture was a study in aristocratic grace—the way her slender fingers curled around the delicate porcelain teacup, the tilt of her chin as she observed you, the subtle arch of an eyebrow that conveyed more than words ever could. The rich green fabric clung to her voluptuous figure, highlighting the generous swell of her bust where the deep V-neckline plunged daringly, and hugged the powerful curve of her thighs before cascading to the floor. A single diamond pendant rested in the shadowed valley between her breasts, catching the light with each measured breath she took. She smelled of expensive jasmine perfume and something sharper, like ozone before a storm.
For a heartbeat, you were utterly transfixed—not just by her beauty, but by the sheer magnetic force of her presence. Her dark eyes held galaxies of unspoken secrets, and the fullness of her lips curved in a smile that promised both danger and delight. The air thickened with the tension of her unspoken power, making your throat go dry. But then reality crashed back—the chloroform headache pounding behind your temples, the velvet ropes binding your wrists to the antique chair arms, the memory of Wonyoung’s terrified face as the van door slammed shut. You swallowed hard, forcing your gaze away from the hypnotic dip of her neckline.
"Nice to meet you too, Miss Kwon," you managed, the words scraping out like gravel. Your voice sounded foreign, strained against the oppressive silence of the gilded drawing room.
Eunbi took another slow sip of her tea, her dark eyes never leaving yours. The diamond pendant nestled in her cleavage seemed to wink mockingly. "You must be curious why you're here, aren't you?" Her voice was a velvet ribbon, soft and elegant, wrapping around the stark reality of your bound wrists. It held the cadence of a noblewoman discussing the weather, not a kidnapping. The scent of jasmine hung thickly in the air, cloying and sweet, masking the faint chemical tang of chloroform still clinging to your senses.
You didn't answer, couldn't find the words. Your throat felt raw, your mind still fogged. But the confusion, the utter bewilderment at why Wonyoung’s impossibly poised mother would orchestrate this, must have been written plainly across your face – the furrowed brow, the slack jaw, the wide, uncomprehending eyes.
Eunbi’s elegant facade softened, just a fraction. She set her teacown down with a soft clink against the saucer, the sound unnaturally loud in the heavy silence. Her gaze drifted to the diamond pendant resting against her skin, her fingers brushing it lightly. "It’s about Wonyoung," she said, her voice dropping to a near whisper, losing its earlier musicality, replaced by something heavier, more intimate. "My daughter. The girl you’ve been playing 'Daddy' to."
The word hung in the air, charged and uncomfortable. You shifted against the velvet ropes binding your wrists. "You know it," you stated flatly, the accusation clear. "You know everything about this… arrangement.”
Eunbi didn’t flinch. A slow, knowing smile curved her lips, transforming her aristocratic beauty into something predatory. Her dark eyes gleamed with undisguised intelligence. "Of course I know," she purred, her voice a low thrum that vibrated in the plush silence. She leaned forward slightly, the deep emerald silk straining over her generous bust, the diamond pendant catching the light like a cold star. "Did you imagine such an expensive, legally binding contract involving my daughter could escape my notice?" She chuckled, a dry, humorless sound. "Every clause, every stipulation, every… performance." Her gaze lingered on you, sharp and assessing. "But knowledge isn’t the interesting part, Mr. Lee. Curiosity is." She paused, letting the tension coil tighter. "Aren’t you even remotely curious Why my daughter craves these… role-playing games so desperately?"
You remained silent, jaw clenched. Admitting curiosity felt like stepping onto treacherous ground. Yet, the question echoed the doubts you’d buried deep during those intense nights with Wonyoung – the unsettling blend of innocence and seduction, the desperate clinginess beneath her playful facade. Your gaze, sharpened by suspicion and lingering chloroform haze, flickered past Eunbi’s imposing figure, scanning the opulent room. It landed on a heavy velvet curtain drawn across a section of the ornate, paneled wall. Something about its deliberate concealment pricked at your instincts.
Eunbi’s dark eyes, sharp as obsidian shards, tracked your fleeting glance. A slow, triumphant smile unfurled on her lips, chillingly devoid of warmth. "Ah," she breathed, the single syllable thick with satisfaction. Without another word, she rose with liquid grace. The deep emerald silk of her gown whispered against the plush carpet as she crossed the room, her movements a study in predatory elegance. She stopped before the curtain, her hand hovering near the gold-tasseled pull cord. Her profile, illuminated by the soft chandelier light, was starkly beautiful and utterly unreadable. "Curiosity killed the cat," she murmured, almost to herself, her voice a velvet caress laced with steel. "But satisfaction brought it back." With a sharp tug, the heavy velvet parted.
Revealed behind the curtain wasn't a window, but a large, framed photograph bathed in soft light. Your breath hitched. It showed Eunbi, perhaps a decade younger but radiating the same formidable presence, her arm draped possessively around a man’s shoulders. Beside them, beaming with youthful innocence, stood Wonyoung, looking no older than ten. But it was the man who seized your focus. Tall, broad-shouldered, with a familiar jawline and the same intense, dark eyes that stared back at you every morning in the mirror. The resemblance was uncanny, unsettling. It wasn't just similar; it was you, impossibly captured in a moment you never lived.
Eunbi traced the outline of the man’s face on the glass with a perfectly manicured fingertip, her voice dropping to a low, venomous whisper. "Wonyoung grew up without a father." She paused, letting the silence thicken. "Then, one day, I met this man." Her finger tapped the image sharply. "Charming. Protective. He filled that void perfectly. I made him a father figure for my daughter." Her elegant facade cracked, revealing a glimpse of raw, jagged pain beneath. "He promised stability. He promised family."
Suddenly, she whirled around, the emerald silk of her gown swirling like storm-tossed water. Her eyes, dark and blazing, pinned you to the chair. "But..." The word hissed out, laden with decades of bitterness. "They betrayed me." Her knuckles whitened as she gripped the edge of the curtain. "They had an affair behind my back. My daughter... and the man I trusted to be her father." A harsh, mirthless laugh escaped her. "Can you imagine? The two people I loved most, whispering secrets, touching... loving each other in the shadows of my home."
You stared, utterly paralyzed. The implications crashed over you like icy waves. Wonyoung's desperate need for affection, her blurring of familial and romantic lines... it wasn't just playacting. It was a twisted echo of her past. The room seemed to tilt, the opulent furnishings blurring into a nauseating smear of colour. Your own role in this grotesque theatre – the "Daddy" she sought – felt suddenly, horrifyingly clear. You weren't just fulfilling a fantasy; you were stepping into the shoes of the man who had shattered her world and her mother's.
Eunbi watched your comprehension dawn, a cruel satisfaction flickering in her dark eyes before they welled with fresh tears. Her elegant composure fractured completely. "I caught them," she whispered, her voice thick with decades-old agony, cracking like thin ice. "In my bedroom. Her innocence... gone. His betrayal... complete." A shudder wracked her frame, powerful shoulders trembling beneath the emerald silk. "Junhwan... that man... he saw the devastation. Saw what he'd done to us both." She choked on a sob, her manicured hand flying to her mouth. "He couldn't live with the guilt. The coward..." Her voice dropped to a ragged, venomous whisper. "...decided to end his life".
For a heartbeat, genuine sympathy surged within you – the raw, shattered grief etched onto her beautiful face was undeniable. The image of a young Wonyoung caught in such a devastating betrayal, the tragic aftermath... it painted a horrifying picture of the roots of her current compulsions. You leaned forward slightly against your velvet bonds, your own voice softening. "Miss Kwon... Eunbi... I'm so sorry. That's..."
The words died in your throat. The transformation was instantaneous and chilling. The tears vanished. The trembling ceased. The raw agony smoothed over like water freezing into polished ice. Eunbi lifted her head slowly. Where moments ago there had been shattered grief, now resided something cold, calculating, and utterly terrifying. A slow, predatory smirk stretched across her lips, devoid of warmth or humanity. Her dark eyes, glinting like obsidian chips under the chandelier light, locked onto yours with unnerving intensity.
"It's all Wonyoung's fault," she hissed, the elegant cadence replaced by a grating, venomous anger that scraped against the silence. "My bitch's daughter." The words dripped with pure, distilled hatred. "That little slut, just like her father. Twisting everything pure into something filthy." Her knuckles whitened as she gripped the curtain's edge. "Did you think her tears were real? Her loneliness? All an act. A whore's performance to lure weak men." She leaned forward, the deep V of her gown revealing the tense muscles in her neck. "So I locked her away. In the castle. Alone. Where she couldn't spread her poison." The smirk widened, revealing perfect teeth in a rictus of cruel satisfaction. "Let her rot with her fantasies."
Then Eunbi looked at you with a condescending look, her dark eyes sweeping over you like you were something unpleasant tracked onto her priceless rug. "Everything was perfect as it should have been," she stated, her voice dripping with icy disdain. "Wonyoung was contained. Broken. Her spirit safely extinguished in that gilded cage. Until you came." Her lip curled into a sneer. "You, with your pathetic 'daddy' charade. You rekindled that filthy spark in her eyes. You made her hope." She spat the word like poison. "And that... that insolent flicker of defiance... that is what I cannot abide."
She leaned in suddenly, her expensive jasmine perfume cloying in the confined space. Her lips brushed your ear, her breath a chilling whisper against your skin. "That's why I spread rumors about your daughter at school," she murmured, her voice a venomous caress. "And paid someone to bully her. To break her spirit, just like her 'sister's' needed breaking. To remind everyone of their place."
The words hit you like a physical blow. The image of Leeseo's tear-streaked face, the bruise on her arm, her trembling defiance – it all snapped into horrifying clarity. Rage, white-hot and primal, surged through you, burning away the lingering chloroform haze and the shock of Eunbi's revelations. "YOU!" you roared, the sound raw and guttural, straining against the velvet ropes binding your wrists. The chair legs scraped violently against the polished floor as you surged forward, your body a coiled spring of fury. "So you're the one who spread that filth about Leeseo! You hurt my daughter!"
Eunbi merely laughed, a low, throaty sound devoid of any warmth, echoing in the opulent silence. She leaned back slightly, her dark eyes gleaming with cruel amusement as she watched your futile struggle against the restraints. Her elegant posture remained unruffled, a queen observing a trapped insect. "Such passion," she purred, her voice dripping with condescension. "For a *rented* father. How touching." She traced the rim of her teacup with a manicured fingertip. "But struggle all you like, Mr. Lee. The knots are silk-lined velvet, tied by professionals. You won't free yourself." She chuckled again, the sound grating against your raw nerves. "Your precious Leeseo was merely collateral damage. A necessary step to ensure Wonyoung understood the consequences of defiance... and to ensure you understood yours."
Your muscles screamed with the effort, the velvet ropes biting deep into your wrists despite their deceptive softness, leaving angry red welts. Every fiber of your being screamed to lunge at her, to wipe that smug superiority off her face. The image of Leeseo’s bruised arm, her fearful eyes after the bullying, fueled a rage so intense it blurred your vision. But the bonds held fast, mocking your impotence. You slumped back, chest heaving, hatred burning in your gaze as you glared at her.
Eunbi watched your surrender with palpable satisfaction. She set her teacup down with deliberate precision and strolled closer, stopping just outside your reach. The scent of jasmine felt suffocating now. She tilted her head, studying you with unnerving intensity, her expression shifting from amusement to something colder, more calculating. "This vendetta," she stated coolly, her voice losing its mocking lilt, becoming sharp and businesslike, "it consumes resources. Distracts me." She waved a dismissive hand, encompassing the room, the unseen security, the elaborate setup of your kidnapping. "I tire of it. And frankly, Mr. Lee, you and your troublesome little family are becoming... tedious." She paused, letting the insult hang in the air. Then, her dark eyes locked onto yours, devoid of pity, only cold pragmatism. "I will stop. The rumors cease. The harassment ends. Leeseo is left alone. Wonyoung..." she hesitated for a fraction of a second, "...remains untouched by me." A slow, deliberate smile touched her lips, devoid of warmth. "But there are conditions."
You stared, the abrupt shift from venomous hatred to cold negotiation leaving you reeling. "Conditions?" you rasped, suspicion warring with a desperate sliver of hope. "What conditions?”
Eunbi’s predatory smirk returned, softer this time, edged with a chilling sensuality. She took a slow step closer, the emerald silk whispering secrets against the carpet. Her dark eyes, no longer blazing with hate but glinting with a dangerous allure, swept over your bound form. "Oh, Mr. Lee," she breathed, her voice dropping to a husky murmur that sent an involuntary shiver down your spine despite the rage still simmering within you. She leaned in, her expensive perfume enveloping you, her gaze lingering on your lips. "Aren't you and my darling Wonyoung... so very fond of your little role-plays?" Her fingertip traced a feather-light path along the tense line of your jaw, her touch surprisingly cool. "The 'Daddy' and his precious girl..." She chuckled, a low, throaty sound. "Adorable. Truly."
She straightened, her expression shifting to one of mock contemplation, a single manicured nail tapping her bottom lip. "But I find myself... curious." Her eyes locked onto yours, holding you captive. "I want you to play with me." The air crackled with her implication. "The rules are simple," she purred, her voice dripping with honeyed venom. "I will be your... devoted mother-in-law." Her hand drifted to the deep V of her gown, fingertips brushing the diamond nestled there. "And you..." She leaned in again, her lips a breath away from your ear, her whisper a velvet caress that felt like a violation. "...will be my dutiful, obedient son-in-law. Show me just how well you can... perform for family.”
"Is that all?" you rasped, the words scraping your throat raw, defiance warring with utter exhaustion.
Eunbi’s predatory smile widened, a slow, chilling unfurling. "No," she purred, her voice dripping with honeyed menace. "Not nearly." With deliberate grace, she reached into the hidden pocket of her emerald silk gown. Her slender fingers emerged holding three small pills, each a distinct, vibrant color: a poisonous-looking green, a sickly yellow, and a deep, arterial red. They glinted like malevolent jewels in the chandelier light. She held them out on her palm, presenting them as if they were exquisite chocolates. "Three pills," she stated, her dark eyes locking onto yours with hypnotic intensity. "One each day. You will take them in sequence: green, then yellow, then red." She paused, letting the implication hang thick and suffocating in the air. "If you manage to complete all three days... Without succumbing to my... persuasion... you win. Your freedom. Leeseo’s safety. Wonyoung’s reprieve. All guaranteed.”
Her gaze sharpened, becoming impossibly cold. "But," she hissed, leaning in so close her expensive jasmine perfume choked you, her lips brushing your ear in a mockery of intimacy, "if you falter... if you yield to even a *fraction* of the desire I will ignite within you..." Her hand closed possessively around the pills, then opened again, her fingers tracing a slow, deliberate path down your bound chest. "...then you lose. Utterly. And you become mine. Body and soul. Ready or not." The final words were a velvet whisper, a sentence passed.
The ultimatum hung like a guillotine blade. Freedom and safety for your daughters, bought with your own resistance against this terrifying woman. Or eternal servitude in her gilded hell. The image of Leeseo's fearful eyes and Wonyoung’s fragile defiance burned brighter than the chandelier. Rage and desperation warred, but the choice was clear. There was only one path forward. "I will do it," you rasped, the words tasting like ash but ringing with finality.
Without hesitation, your bound hand strained against the velvet rope. Fingers trembling with adrenaline and lingering fury, you snatched the sickly green pill from Eunbi’s palm. She watched, utterly still, her dark eyes unblinking obsidian pools. You tilted your head back and swallowed it dry, the small, hard shape scraping down your throat. A beat of silence stretched, thick and expectant. Nothing happened. No sudden pain, no wave of dizziness, no unnatural heat. Just the pounding of your own heart against your ribs and the cool, assessing gaze of your captor.
Eunbi’s lips curved into a slow, triumphant smirk. It wasn't warm; it was the satisfied expression of a predator seeing its prey step into the snare. "Very good, son-in-law," she purred, the title dripping with saccharine condescension. She moved with sudden, startling grace, her fingers working deftly at the intricate knots binding your wrists. The velvet ropes fell away, pooling like dead serpents on the polished floor. She didn't step back. Instead, her hand, cool and smooth, brushed against the raw skin of your freed wrist. "Now," she breathed, her voice dropping to an intimate murmur laced with command, "since your dear wife is... indisposed," – a subtle, cruel emphasis on 'wife', meaning Wonyoung – "perhaps you could assist your devoted mother-in-law?" Her gaze swept dismissively across the vast, immaculate expanse of the gilded living room. "This house requires tending. Dust gathers, even in the most carefully maintained cages." She turned, the emerald silk whispering secrets, and began walking towards a hallway lined with ornate, dark wood doors.
The dismissal was clear. You stood, muscles protesting after the enforced stillness, the lingering scent of jasmine and chloroform clinging to your clothes. The green pill sat heavy in your gut, a silent, ominous presence. You focused on the mundane task she'd set – cleaning. Anything to ground yourself. You found a polished walnut cabinet stocked with cleaning supplies that smelled faintly of lemon and disinfectant. Grabbing a feather duster and a microfiber cloth, you walked towards the hallway Eunbi had indicated. It was long, lined with expensive-looking abstract art and lit by recessed lighting that cast deep pools of shadow. You began methodically dusting the intricate frames, the repetitive motion a desperate anchor against the surreal horror of your situation. The silence was profound, broken only by the soft rasp of the duster and the frantic drumming of your own heart. You concentrated on the grain of the wood, the texture of the cloth, the cool metal of the frames – anything but the memory of her touch, her words, and the terrifying promise of the pills.
Time stretched, thin and elastic. You were halfway down the hall, dusting a particularly angular bronze sculpture, when you heard the soft click of heels on marble behind you. You turned, the feather duster frozen in your hand.
Eunbi stood framed in the doorway of what looked like a study. The transformation was jarring. Gone was the severe emerald silk gown. Now she wore a man's oversized, deep red boxer shirt, unbuttoned completely down the front. It gaped open, revealing a startling expanse of pale, smooth skin and a delicate white lace bra that barely contained her full breasts. Below, impossibly short denim shorts hugged her hips, the frayed edges riding high, exposing the full, firm curve of her buttocks and the tops of her strong thighs. Her dark hair was slightly tousled, and she held a crystal tumbler of amber liquid in one hand. She leaned casually against the doorframe, a picture of calculated nonchalance that screamed seduction.
Your breath hitched. Shock slammed into you first – the sheer audacity, the sudden shift from captor to... this. Then, a treacherous heat bloomed low in your belly, a flicker of arousal you instantly despised. Your gaze snagged on the smooth skin revealed by the open shirt, the tempting swell of cleavage above the lace, the long, toned legs disappearing into the shorts. You tore your eyes away, focusing fiercely on the bronze sculpture, your knuckles white around the feather duster. *The green pill*, you thought desperately, clinging to the memory of swallowing it like a shield. It’s the pill. It has to be. You forced your breathing to slow, your jaw clenched tight. This was the game. This was her "persuasion." You wouldn’t yield.
Eunbi’s low chuckle vibrated in the quiet hallway. She took a slow sip from her tumbler, her eyes never leaving you, dark pools of amusement and challenge. "Son-in-law," she purred, her voice like velvet dipped in honey, "you seem... distracted." She pushed off the doorframe, taking a deliberate step closer. The scent of expensive whiskey mingled with her jasmine perfume, an intoxicating, dangerous blend. "This house," she gestured vaguely upwards with her glass, "requires attention in all its heights." She stopped just an arm's length away, her presence overwhelming. "The chandelier in the grand foyer," she murmured, her gaze sweeping over your rigid posture. "Dust gathers on the crystal. It dulls the sparkle." A slow, deliberate smile touched her lips. "Can you clean the upper areas?" She paused, letting the implication hang. "Let me hold the stairs... steady for you."
You just nodded, a sharp, jerky movement. Anything to escape her proximity, her unsettling transformation. You turned abruptly, the feather duster clutched like a weapon, and strode past her towards the sweeping marble staircase that dominated the mansion's entrance hall. Her gaze felt like a physical weight on your back as you ascended, each step echoing in the cavernous silence. Reaching the upper landing, you focused fiercely on the task. You stretched, dusting the intricate plasterwork cornices near the vaulted ceiling, the physical exertion a welcome distraction. The cool air up here felt cleaner, less saturated with her presence and perfume. You concentrated on the repetitive motion, the soft rasp of feathers against plaster, the distant hum of the mansion's climate control. The pill. Just the pill. Ignore her. Focus on Leeseo. Wonyoung.
Below, a sudden, sharp sound shattered the quiet. A sneeze. Then another, followed by a muffled, almost frantic gasp. Instinct, honed by years of fatherhood, kicked in before conscious thought. "You okay, Mother-in-law?" you called down, your voice tight with a concern you immediately regretted showing. You leaned over the polished bannister, peering down towards the foot of the stairs where she stood.
The sight froze you mid-breath. Eunbi was bent slightly, one hand braced against the wall, the other clutching her discarded whiskey tumbler, now lying forgotten on the marble floor, its amber contents spreading like a stain. But it wasn't the spilled drink that held your gaze. Her oversized red shirt had slipped completely off one shoulder, pulled down by the sudden movement. The fabric gaped open, revealing not just the smooth curve of her shoulder, but the entire, startling expanse of her left breast, fully exposed above the delicate white lace cup of her bra. The pale, heavy flesh spilled over the lace edge, the dark nipple stiffening visibly against the cool air of the foyer. Her other breast was barely contained within its own lace prison, threatening to escape. The denim shorts seemed impossibly shorter from this angle, riding up high on her firm buttocks.
Her face was turned away, buried in the crook of her elbow as another violent sneeze wracked her frame. "Ah-*choo*!" It was a surprisingly forceful sound, echoing in the vast space. She shuddered, the movement causing the exposed breast to jiggle slightly. When she lowered her arm, her face was flushed, her eyes watery. She looked up at you leaning over the bannister, her dark gaze wide and suddenly vulnerable.
"Oh... oh dear," she murmured, her voice thick and nasal, a stark contrast to her earlier purr. She made a weak attempt to pull the shirt back over her shoulder, but her fingers fumbled, only managing to expose more pale skin. Another sneeze seized her, bending her double. "Ah-CHOO!" She gasped for breath, one hand pressed to her chest, the other braced against the cold marble wall. Her legs seemed to tremble. "Son-in-law..." she whimpered, her voice a thin, trembling thread. She looked utterly drained, the predatory confidence replaced by a startling fragility. "I... I don't feel well. So weak..." Her eyelids fluttered dramatically. "Could you... could you please take me to my room? I don't think I can make it alone.”
The request hung in the air, thick with the scent of whiskey and her cloying perfume. Your gaze flickered from her tear-filled, pleading eyes down to the exposed swell of her breast, the dark nipple pebbled against the cool air. The sight sent a jolt through you, a strange mixture of revulsion and undeniable, treacherous heat. The green pill felt like a lead weight in your gut. *This is it. The persuasion. The test.* You hesitated, your knuckles white on the bannister. "Really?" you rasped, the word tight with suspicion and the unwelcome stirring in your own blood.
Eunbi nodded weakly, another tremor running through her. The movement caused the open shirt to gape wider, deliberately showcasing the full, heavy curve of her left breast spilling over the lace, the vulnerable flush spreading down her chest. "So dizzy..." she whispered, her voice a breathy tremor. "Please..."
The sight – the blatant exposure, the calculated vulnerability – sent a jolt like an electric current straight to your core. It wasn't just arousal; it was a primal surge, a dangerous cocktail of revulsion and raw, undeniable heat that burned through the lingering haze of the green pill. Your mouth went dry. You swallowed hard, the sound loud in the sudden silence. "Alright," you rasped, the words scraping your throat. "I'll help you, Mother-in-law."
You descended the stairs quickly, your movements stiff with tension. Eunbi swayed dramatically as you approached, letting out another pitiful whimper. Without ceremony, you bent down. One arm slid beneath her knees, the other hooked firmly under her shoulders. She was surprisingly light, her body yielding as you lifted her effortlessly against your chest. The moment your bodies connected, the world seemed to narrow.
Her exposed breast pressed flush against your sternum, the lace bra offering negligible separation. You felt the heavy, warm weight of it, the softness yielding against your muscle. Her nipple, hardened by the cool air or something else, was a distinct, insistent point of contact that seared through your thin shirt. Your hands gripped her thighs just below the denim shorts – bare skin, impossibly smooth and firm beneath your fingers, radiating heat. Her scent, jasmine and expensive whiskey and something uniquely *her*, enveloped you, thick and cloying. It wasn't just perfume; it was the scent of warm skin, exertion, and a dangerous, intoxicating femininity that seemed to seep into your pores. Your own body responded instantly, a treacherous heat pooling low in your belly, your pulse hammering against your ribs like a trapped bird. Every step jostled her against you, the friction maddening, the softness of her thigh against your arm, the fullness of her breast against your chest a constant, provocative reminder.
You carried her down the opulent hallway, each step echoing the frantic rhythm of your heart. She nestled her head against your shoulder, her breath warm and uneven against your neck. Her hand, resting lightly on your chest, fingers splayed, seemed to burn through the fabric. "Just here, son-in-law," she murmured, her voice a husky whisper that vibrated against your skin, nodding towards a heavy oak door. You shouldered it open, revealing a bedroom of obscene luxury – all dark silks, polished mahogany, and a massive four-poster bed dominating the space. The air smelled faintly of her perfume and expensive linen. You moved towards the bed, your muscles taut with the effort of holding her, holding yourself back. The treacherous heat inside you warred with the cold dread of the green pill's influence, the image of Leeseo and Wonyoung flickering like a dying candle against the overwhelming sensory assault of the woman in your arms.
Reaching the edge of the bed, you bent to lower her onto the plush duvet. But as her weight left your arms, her hand shot out. Not weak or trembling now, but strong and purposeful, fingers locking like steel around your bicep. With a sudden, shocking pull, she yanked you forward. You stumbled, losing your balance completely. Your body crashed down on top of hers, the breath knocked out of you in a startled grunt. Her legs, strong and surprisingly agile, wrapped around your waist, locking you in place, pinning you against her softness. The oversized red shirt was now a lost cause, gaping wide, revealing both lace-clad breasts pressed firmly against your chest. The thin barrier of your shirt felt like nothing; you felt the heat, the soft weight, the hardened peaks of her nipples branding your skin.
"Son-in-law," Eunbi breathed, her voice a husky purr directly into your ear. Gone was the frail act. Her eyes, dark and gleaming with predatory triumph, held yours captive. Her free hand slid up your back, nails tracing a slow, deliberate path that sent shivers down your spine despite your revulsion. Her hips pressed up against yours, a deliberate, grinding motion that left no doubt about her intent. "I'm not feeling well," she murmured, her lips brushing the shell of your ear, her breath hot and scented with whiskey. "Can you... accompany me here?" The words dripped with spoiled seduction, an invitation wrapped in velvet menace. "Just lie with me. Hold me. Make your mother-in-law feel... better." Her hand slid lower, dangerously close to the waistband of your pants. The heat of her body, the scent of jasmine and arousal, the insistent pressure of her thigh against your hardening cock – it was a sensory assault amplified tenfold by the green pill's insidious influence. A thick fog of desire, potent and treacherous, began to cloud your mind, whispering surrender.
The image flickered – Leeseo’s tear-streaked face, Wonyoung’s defiant gaze. The pill. It’s the pill. The thought sliced through the haze like a shard of ice. This wasn't weakness; it was chemical warfare. With a guttural sound, a surge of adrenaline-fueled disgust ripped through the artificial heat. You planted your hands firmly on the mattress, not on her skin, and shoved yourself upwards with every ounce of strength you possessed. Her legs, locked around your waist, resisted for a split second, her eyes widening with genuine surprise at the force of your rejection. You tore yourself free, stumbling backwards until your shoulders hit the cool wood of a heavy armoire, putting precious distance between you and the siren sprawled on the bed.
Eunbi lay there, the oversized shirt gaping obscenely, her expression shifting from predatory triumph to a mask of startled indignation. Her chest heaved, not with feigned weakness now, but with thwarted fury. You straightened, your breath ragged, your body still humming with the unnatural arousal the green demon in your gut demanded, but your mind was a citadel under siege, holding firm. "You better rest first, Mother-in-law," you rasped, the words scraping your throat raw. Your voice was low, tight, vibrating with the effort of control. "I'll leave you alone." You didn't frame it as a request. It was a declaration. An escape route you were taking, consequences be damned.
You turned your back on the dangerous tableau – the rumpled silk sheets, the exposed skin, the eyes burning holes into your retreating form. The walk back to the hallway felt like traversing a minefield. Every nerve screamed, hyper-aware of her presence behind the closed door. The feather duster lay abandoned on the stairs. You retrieved it, your knuckles white on the handle. The rest of the day became a blur of forced, meticulous cleaning. You polished banisters until they gleamed, dusted every ornate frame with robotic precision, and scrubbed invisible stains from marble floors. Each task was a mantra, a shield against the memory of her weight, her scent, the treacherous heat she’d ignited. You kept the image of Leeseo’s trusting eyes and Wonyoung’s guarded vulnerability at the forefront of your mind, a lifeline in the sea of Eunbi’s calculated seduction. She emerged once, dressed now in a severe black pantsuit, her hair impeccably coiled. She watched you silently for a long moment, her dark eyes unreadable, before disappearing again without a word. The silence was heavy, charged, but you endured. Night brought a reprieve in the form of a locked guest room door and a sleepless vigil against the green pill’s lingering whispers.
Morning light bled through the heavy curtains, harsh and unwelcome. A sharp rap on the door startled you. Opening it revealed only the polished floor outside and a small, innocuous white envelope. Inside lay a single yellow pill, identical in size to the green one but radiating a more ominous energy. A slip of crisp paper fluttered out. The handwriting was the same elegant script: *"The second day. Be careful. The pill's effect is getting stronger."* A cold dread, sharper than any arousal, coiled in your stomach. You swallowed the yellow pill dry, the chalky residue clinging to your throat like a promise of doom. Its effect was immediate, a subtle but undeniable shift. Colors seemed brighter, textures more intense. The faint scent of jasmine from the hallway felt like a physical caress. Your skin prickled with heightened sensitivity, every brush of fabric against your body sending small, unwelcome jolts of awareness. The memory of Eunbi’s exposed breast, the feel of her thigh beneath your hand, flashed with startling, visceral clarity. You clenched your fists, forcing your focus onto the simple task of making the bed. Stronger. Much stronger.
Descending the grand staircase hours later, the air shifted. Gone was the sterile scent of polish and dust. Instead, a rich, intoxicating aroma wrapped around you – garlic sizzling in butter, caramelizing onions, the deep, savory perfume of slow-cooked meat. It was a masterful symphony of smells, promising comfort, warmth, home. Your stomach growled, a traitorous response. Following the scent trail, you moved towards the kitchen, the heart of this unsettling mansion. The doorway framed a scene that stopped you dead.
Eunbi stood before the massive Viking range, her back to you. She wore a sheer white sleeping dress, the thin silk clinging like a second skin. It was treacherously transparent. Against the stark white fabric, the vibrant red of her lingerie screamed. The thong strap cut a bold line high across her buttocks, revealing the full, smooth curve of each cheek. The fabric was minimal, a narrow strip disappearing into the cleft, leaving the swell of flesh below utterly exposed. Higher up, the matching bra strap was just visible, but the true shock was the complete transparency of the dress' back panel – you could see every intricate detail of the bra clasp, the delicate lace edging the red fabric that barely contained her.
The sizzle of garlic in olive oil filled the air, rich and inviting. Eunbi swayed her hips slightly as she stirred a bubbling pot of stew, the movement deliberate, hypnotic. The sheer skirt shifted, riding up further, offering a fleeting glimpse of the thong’s front where it vanished between her thighs. Then, as if sensing your presence, she turned.
The front view was breathtaking. The flimsy white silk clung to every curve, dampened slightly by steam or sweat at her collarbones. The tiny red bra cups strained against her full breasts, the lace edging barely grazing the swollen, dark areolas. The fabric was so minimal that the lower curve of each breast spilled free, the hardened nipples visibly pressing against the sheer overlay of her dress. Her gaze met yours, heavy-lidded and knowing. "Hungry, son-in-law?" she murmured, her voice thick with suggestion. She didn't adjust her dress, didn't cover herself. Instead, she arched her back subtly, pushing her chest forward. "I made your favorite. Beef stew." Her lips curved into a slow, predatory smile. "It needs... tasting."
You forced yourself to move, taking a seat at the massive granite island. The air crackled with tension. Eunbi served you a steaming bowl, leaning far over the counter as she placed it before you. The neckline of her dress gaped, offering an unobstructed view down the valley of her cleavage, the red lace bra struggling to contain her bounty. The scent of her skin – jasmine, arousal, and the rich stew – was overwhelming. You picked up your spoon, your hand trembling slightly. The first mouthful was divine, the tender beef melting on your tongue. But every chew, every swallow, felt like a betrayal under her intense scrutiny. She watched you eat, her eyes tracing your throat as you swallowed, her own lips parting slightly. The yellow pill amplified everything – the taste of the stew, the heat radiating from her barely clothed body, the treacherous stiffness straining against your zipper. You shifted on the stool, trying to find a position that didn't scream your discomfort. Be strong. For Leeseo. For Wonyoung.
You focused on the food, shoveling it in mechanically. The silence stretched, thick and suffocating, broken only by the clink of your spoon and the frantic pulse hammering in your ears. Eunbi finally turned away, gliding towards the sink with an exaggerated sway of her hips. The sheer fabric clung to the red thong, outlining every curve as she began washing the single pot she’d used. You watched her back, the play of muscles beneath the damp silk, the hypnotic rhythm of her movements. The yellow pill made the sight vibrate with dangerous intensity. You finished the last bite, the bowl empty except for the lingering, intoxicating aroma. Clearing your throat, your voice came out rough, strained. "You don't eat, Mother-in-law?" You kept your gaze fixed on the empty bowl, not trusting yourself to look at her.
Eunbi paused, her hands stilling in the soapy water. She glanced over her shoulder, a slow, knowing smile spreading across her lips. "Oh, my poor son-in-law," she purred, her voice dripping with faux sympathy. "A lot of the cutlery is dirty." She gestured vaguely towards the sink with a soapy hand. "So I can't keep you company." Her eyes locked onto yours, dark and challenging. "Can you help dear?" The request hung in the air, heavy with implication. She turned back to the sink, bending forward slightly, the thin fabric of her dress stretching taut across her backside. The red thong vanished into the cleft, the full, exposed curves of her buttocks gleaming under the kitchen lights. The yellow pill screamed its influence, making the sight impossibly vivid, the heat radiating from her a physical force against your skin. Your cock throbbed painfully against the confines of your pants, a traitorous response you fought to ignore.
"Sure," the word slipped out, low and rough, almost against your will. Your feet moved of their own accord, carrying you across the cool tiles. The space behind her was narrow, forcing you to stand close, your chest mere inches from the sheer silk covering her back. The scent of jasmine and warm, damp skin filled your nostrils, amplified by the pill until it was dizzying. Your hands, trembling slightly, reached around her waist. Not to embrace, but to mimic helping. Your fingers brushed the edge of the granite counter on either side of her hips, ostensibly bracing yourself as you leaned in to peer over her shoulder at the sudsy water. But your forearms pressed against the swell of her hips, the heat of her body searing through your thin shirt. Her breath hitched, a soft, almost imperceptible sound, as your body aligned with hers. The curve of her ass pressed firmly against your straining erection.
Eunbi didn't pull away. Instead, she shifted her weight back, leaning into you with deliberate pressure. Her hands moved slowly in the soapy water, washing the same spoon with agonizing slowness. "You're so helpful, son-in-law," she murmured, her voice thick and husky. She tilted her head slightly, exposing the smooth column of her neck. "The water's hot... makes me feel a little faint." Her hips rolled back in a subtle, grinding motion against your cock. The friction, even through layers of fabric, was electric, sending jolts of pure, treacherous need straight to your core. The yellow pill screamed its influence, turning the feel of her body against yours into an exquisite torment. Your hands tightened on the counter edge, knuckles white.
The rhythm started subtly. A slight sway of her hips as she rinsed the spoon. Then another. Your body betrayed you instantly, hips rocking forward instinctively to meet the motion. The yellow pill amplified every sensation – the heat radiating from her skin through the sheer silk, the firm pressure of her ass against your straining erection, the faint scent of her arousal mingling with the steam. Your breath hitched, catching in your throat. Another slow, deliberate roll of her hips. Your body answered, pushing forward, grinding against her. The rhythm built, a silent, dangerous dance. Your hands slid from the cold granite, trembling. They hovered for a moment, inches from the curve of her waist beneath the damp silk. The pill's influence was a roaring tide, drowning out reason, whispering *touch her, claim her*.
Your fingers closed around her waist. Not gently. Possessively. The thin fabric offered no barrier; you felt the heat of her skin, the soft give of her flesh beneath your grip. A low moan escaped Eunbi’s lips, half-surprise, half-triumph. She pressed back harder, grinding against you in a slow, sinuous circle. "Yes," she breathed, arching her neck, exposing the delicate skin to your ragged breath. "Feel how much your mother-in-law needs you, son-in-law." Her hands abandoned the spoon, sliding back along her own thighs, then reaching behind to grasp your hips, pulling you impossibly closer, locking you into the rhythm. Your hips moved of their own accord now, thrusting against the lush curve of her ass, the friction maddening even through layers of clothing. The yellow haze intensified, narrowing your world to the feel of her, the scent of her, the desperate need coiling low in your belly.
Then she turned. Swiftly. Fluidly. Her body pivoted within the cage of your arms, her back against the counter’s edge. Her eyes, dark and glazed with the same unnatural hunger, met yours. There was no pretense now. No feigned frailty. Only raw, predatory desire. Her gaze dropped to your mouth. "Kiss me," she commanded, her voice a throaty rasp. It wasn’t a request. It was a dare. A challenge thrown down by the drug coursing through both your veins. The image of Leeseo, of Wonyoung, flickered like a dying ember, drowned out by the roaring need. Your control snapped.
You crushed your mouth to hers. Hard. Possessive. It wasn’t tenderness; it was a claiming. Her lips were surprisingly soft beneath the bruising pressure, yielding instantly. They parted with a gasp you swallowed, your tongue invading, tangling with hers in a fierce, desperate dance. The taste of her was intoxicating—jasmine, salt, and the lingering sweetness of the stew. Your hands, still gripping her waist, slid upwards, rough and demanding. They found the swollen curves spilling from the flimsy red bra beneath the damp silk. You squeezed. Hard. The soft flesh yielded under your fingers, the lace biting into your palms. Eunbi cried out, not in pain, but in raw, animalistic pleasure, arching her back, pushing herself deeper into your grasp. Her fingers clawed at your shoulders, pulling you impossibly closer, her hips grinding against your aching hardness. The yellow pill turned the kiss into a wildfire, the feel of her breasts in your hands a searing brand. Reason was ash. Only instinct remained, primal and consuming. You devoured her mouth, your hands kneading her flesh, lost in the chemical storm she had orchestrated.
Between bruising kisses, her voice was a ragged gasp against your lips, thick with triumph and the drug’s haze. "Tell me," she panted, her breath hot and mingling with yours. Her eyes, dark and glazed, locked onto yours with fierce intensity. "Am I more aroused than Wonyoung?" The name hit you like a physical blow. Wonyoung. It echoed through the yellow fog, sharp and discordant. Her face flashed in your mind – guarded, vulnerable, defiant. The memory was a shard of ice plunged into the inferno. Your body froze mid-thrust against her. The roaring need choked off, replaced by a wave of cold, sickening revulsion. What were you doing? Who were you doing it with? This wasn't desire; it was chemical poison. Eunbi’s triumphant smirk faltered as she felt the change, her grinding hips stilling. Confusion flickered in her drugged eyes, quickly replaced by a flicker of doubt. "Son-in-law?" she breathed, her voice suddenly unsure.
You shoved yourself backwards, breaking the contact violently. Your hands, moments ago kneading her flesh, now pushed her away, creating a foot of space that felt like a chasm. The air between you crackled with the sudden void. Your breath came in ragged gasps, your face flushed crimson, not with passion now, but with shame and the desperate struggle against the yellow pill’s insistent thrum. You couldn’t look at her – at the sheer dress clinging obscenely, at the red lingerie screaming its presence, at the swollen lips you’d just ravaged. "I need to go," you choked out, the words raw, scraping your throat. It wasn't an explanation; it was a desperate plea for escape. You turned on your heel, stumbling slightly, your legs unsteady beneath you. The kitchen tiles felt treacherous, the rich aroma of stew now cloying and nauseating. You didn't look back. You couldn't.
A low, throaty chuckle followed you. It wasn't mocking, not exactly. It was the sound of a predator momentarily surprised by its prey’s sudden, unexpected lunge for freedom. Eunbi watched your retreating back, her own chest heaving slightly, her lips slick and bruised from your assault. Her dark eyes, still glazed with the drug’s influence but sharpening with calculation, tracked your every clumsy step. The sight of your stiff, jerky movements, the rigid set of your shoulders, the unmistakable flush creeping up your neck – it was all fuel. She saw the conflict warring within you, the physical arousal betrayed by your posture battling the revulsion that had finally surfaced. Her laughter faded into a satisfied hum. "Of course, son-in-law," she purred, her voice dripping with false sweetness laced with triumph. "Run along. But remember… the door locks both ways." The implication hung heavy in the air – escape was temporary. The game, her game, was far from over. She leaned back against the counter, crossing her arms beneath her breasts, pushing them up against the damp silk, a silent, provocative challenge as you fled the room.
You stumbled into the oppressive grandeur of the hallway, the cool air doing nothing to douse the inferno raging inside you. Your heart hammered against your ribs like a frantic drum solo, a sickening counterpoint to the lingering taste of her on your tongue. Jasmine. Salt. Stew. Her. Every nerve ending screamed, hypersensitive under the yellow pill’s cruel amplification. The memory of her body pressed against yours – the yielding softness of her ass grinding against your cock, the firm swell of her breasts filling your hands, the heat radiating through the flimsy silk – flooded back with brutal clarity. It wasn't just memory; it was a physical echo, a phantom sensation that made your skin crawl with need even as your mind recoiled. A primal, lewd urge surged, thick and choking: to turn back, to shove her against that counter again, to rip the sheer dress away, to squeeze her breasts until she cried out, to bury your face between her thighs and devour. The sheer wrongness of it, the violation wrapped in chemical lust, twisted your stomach. Wonyoung. Leeseo. Their names were like ice water thrown on the flames, but the yellow haze smothered them almost instantly, leaving only the insistent, animal throb.
You pressed your forehead against the cold wood of a closed door, gasping. Sweat slicked your palms. You clenched your fists so tight your nails bit into your palms, focusing on that sharp, clean pain. *Hold it back. Hold it.* The darkness behind your eyelids pulsed with lurid images: Eunbi’s exposed nipple, the red lace vanishing between her cheeks, her lips parted in that predatory smile. The urge to taste her again, to feel her writhe, was a physical ache low in your belly, a relentless pressure building behind your zipper. You squeezed your eyes shut tighter, grinding your teeth until your jaw ached. The hallway seemed to tilt, the ornate patterns on the wallpaper swirling like malevolent snakes. A wave of dizziness washed over you, thick and syrupy. The frantic drumming of your heart began to slow, replaced by a heavy, unnatural lethargy. The vivid, amplified sensations – the scent of polish, the texture of the wood grain beneath your forehead, the distant clink from the kitchen – started to fade, muffled as if submerged in oil.
Your knees buckled. The last thing you registered was the jarring impact of the unforgiving marble floor rushing up to meet you, a brief, sharp pain radiating through your shoulder before the yellow haze swallowed everything whole.
The chill seeped into your bones before consciousness fully returned. You blinked, disoriented, the sterile scent of bleach and linen replacing the phantom jasmine and stew. Sunlight, harsh and unfamiliar, streamed through tall windows onto pristine white sheets. You weren't on the cold marble floor anymore. You were in a bed – a vast, impersonal expanse in a room you didn't recognize. Panic flared, sharp and cold, cutting through the lingering fog of the yellow pill. *Leeseo. Wonyoung.* Where were you? How long had you been out?
Your gaze snapped to the source of quiet movement. Eunbi sat at a small, elegant table near the window, bathed in the morning light. The sheer yellow silk was gone. She wore a crisp, high-necked blouse in soft cream, buttoned to the throat, and tailored navy trousers. Her posture was impeccable, hands folded neatly on the polished wood surface. The predatory hunger, the raw desperation amplified by the pill, was utterly absent. Her expression was serene, almost placid, a faint, contented smile playing on lips that looked untouched, no longer bruised or slick. Her eyes, when they met yours, held a calm, almost maternal warmth. "Ah, you're awake," she said, her voice soft, modulated, devoid of the husky rasp.
Confusion warred with the lingering dread. "What…" you rasped, your own voice rough and dry. You tried to push yourself up, but a wave of weakness washed over you. "What happened to me?" The memory of the kitchen floor rushing up, the yellow haze swallowing everything, was stark and terrifying.
Eunbi didn't move immediately. She watched you struggle for a moment, a flicker of amusement dancing in her calm eyes. Then, she chuckled softly. It wasn't warm; it was sharp, brittle, laced with sarcasm. "Ah, the predictable consequence," she said, her voice smooth as polished stone. She finally rose, gliding towards the bed with unnerving grace. She stopped beside you, looking down with detached interest. "That little yellow pill you so readily consumed? Its primary effect is… potentiation. Amplification."
She leaned in slightly, her crisp blouse rustling. "It heightens sensory input – touch, scent, taste – exponentially. But its secondary mechanism is far more… instructive. It creates a physiological imperative." Her gaze sharpened. "When you resist the amplified desires it creates, when you fight the instincts it awakens… your heart rate accelerates dangerously. Blood pressure spikes. The autonomic nervous system rebels." She gestured dismissively towards your prone form. "The fainting spell? That was your body's emergency shutdown. A fail-safe against your own stubborn denial. Technically," she concluded, her lips twisting into a cold smile, "it is an aphrodisiac pill. One designed to ensure compliance.”
The clinical detachment in her voice chilled you more than the sterile room. "So it's all an aphrodisiac pill?" you managed, the words scraping your throat raw. The memory of the overwhelming lust warring with revulsion, the physical agony of resisting, the terrifying loss of control – it all clicked into a horrifying picture. It wasn't just desire; it was chemical coercion designed to break you.
Eunbi nodded slowly, a satisfied gleam in her calm eyes. "Precisely. A sophisticated one. Amplifies sensation, lowers inhibition... and punishes resistance." She paused, letting the implication hang heavy in the antiseptic air. "But understand this," her voice dropped to a chilling whisper, devoid of warmth despite the sunny room. "The yellow pill merely incapacitates you for defying its imperative. The red one?" She reached into the pocket of her tailored trousers, her movements deliberate. When her hand emerged, she held a single capsule between her thumb and forefinger. It was a deep, arterial crimson, almost glowing under the harsh sunlight. "This," she murmured, holding it up like a poisonous jewel, "is the final step. Consume it... and if you resist the *absolute peak* of the desire it unleashes?" A cold, terrifying smile touched her lips. "Cardiac arrest. Your heart stops. Permanently."
She placed the crimson pill carefully onto the pristine white sheet beside your hip. The contrast was obscene. "The choice," she stated, her voice regaining its detached serenity, "is yours. Continue our... exploration... and accept the red pill's terms. Or," she gestured vaguely towards the door, "walk away now. Forget everything. Forget Wonyoung's secret. Be mine." Her eyes locked onto yours, unblinking. "Do you still want to continue, or—"
Your hand shot out before the final syllable left her lips. Fingers closed around the small, terrifying capsule. Without hesitation, without breath, you shoved it into your mouth. It hit your tongue – cold, smooth, utterly tasteless. A dry swallow forced it down, scraping your throat like sandpaper. Your eyes never left hers, defiance burning through the lingering weakness.
Eunbi’s serene mask shattered. Her eyes widened, genuine surprise flashing across her face before vanishing behind a predatory gleam. A slow, deliberate clap echoed in the sterile room. Clap… Clap… Clap. Her lips curved into a triumphant, chilling smile. "Bravo… Bravo… Mr. Lee," she purred, her voice thick with dark admiration. "You never disappoint. Such reckless courage." She leaned closer, the scent of expensive perfume replacing the sterile bleach. "I hope our role-playing will be more… fun now." The word dripped with implication. She straightened, smoothing her immaculate blouse. "I'll be waiting for you at the dinner table." She turned, her movements unhurried, elegant. At the door, she paused, glancing back. She couldn't hide the cunning grin splitting her face – a promise of torment disguised as pleasure. "Don't keep Mother in law waiting.”
Eunbi gasped softly, a sound that wasn't entirely pain. Her eyes, wide and dark, locked onto yours. "Please, son-in-law," she whispered, her voice trembling, thick with vulnerability and something else entirely. "My leg... it hurts so much." Her plea was a command disguised as desperation. Her uninjured foot shifted slightly, pressing against the mattress, subtly lifting her hip, making the fabric taut. An invitation. Or a trap.
Your fingers trembled against the soft linen hem. The fabric felt impossibly thin beneath your touch, radiating the heat of her skin. You lifted it slowly, inch by torturous inch, revealing smooth skin above her sensible flat. The swelling was visible just above her ankle bone, an angry red bloom beneath pale skin. The scent of crushed mint intensified, mingling with her perfume and the intimate musk rising from beneath the lifted hem. Your blood roared in your ears, a primal drumbeat syncing with the frantic pulse throbbing in your groin. The red pill’s poison ignited, transforming the clinical act into something visceral, charged.
You unscrewed the blue tin. The ointment inside was cool, thick, smelling sharply of camphor and herbs. Scooping a dollop onto your fingers, you hesitated. Focus on the injury. Only the injury. Your gaze fixed on the swollen flesh above her ankle as you lowered your hand. The moment your slick fingertips touched her skin, Eunbi gasped—a sharp intake of breath that dissolved into a low, throaty moan. Not pain. Pleasure. Rich, resonant, and utterly deliberate. Her calf muscle tensed beneath your touch, smooth and firm. You began to smear the ointment in slow circles, the camphor scent sharp in your nostrils. Her skin was impossibly soft, warm silk beneath your fingers. Another moan escaped her, deeper this time, vibrating through the quiet room. Then came the whisper, husky and commanding: "Up higher, son-in-law."
Your heart slammed against your ribs like a trapped beast. Blood roared in your ears, drowning out everything but the frantic drumming in your chest and the slick sound of your fingers sliding over her skin.
Stop.
Pull back.
The command screamed in your mind. But your hand betrayed you. It moved upward of its own accord, gliding past her ankle, past the swell of her calf, towards the delicate curve behind her knee. The linen hem rode higher with each inch, revealing more smooth, pale skin. Your thumb pressed into the hollow behind her knee, massaging gently. Eunbi arched her back off the duvet, a soft cry escaping her parted lips. Her uninjured leg shifted, bending at the knee, opening her posture subtly. The linen dress slid further up her thigh, revealing the soft, creamy expanse above her knee, tantalizingly close to the shadowed warmth beneath the fabric.
Then your fingers reached the softness of her inner thigh. The skin here was impossibly smooth, untouched by the sun, like cool silk stretched taut over yielding warmth. It felt softer than anything you’d ever touched, yet beneath the velvet surface lay a hidden strength, muscles coiled like springs. Your palm pressed flat against it, fingers splayed. The sheer softness was hypnotic, the tightness beneath it a thrilling contradiction. You could feel the faint tremor running through her muscle, a vibration echoing the frantic pulse between your own legs. The ointment, smelling sharply of camphor, slicked your path as your hand slid higher, drawn irresistibly toward the forbidden heat radiating from her core. Eunbi’s breath hitched, then released in a long, shuddering sigh. It wasn't a gasp of pain. It was pure, unadulterated pleasure – low, throaty, and thick with invitation. Her head fell back against the pillow, exposing the elegant line of her throat, her eyelids fluttering shut. Her lips remained slightly parted, that sigh lingering in the air like smoke, thick and intoxicating. Her hips lifted almost imperceptibly, pressing her inner thigh harder against your exploring hand. The linen dress was bunched high now, dangerously high, the shadowed apex between her legs a dark promise inches from your fingertips. The scent of her arousal bloomed suddenly, potent and musky, cutting through the sharp camphor – a primal perfume that made your vision blur. Your cock throbbed painfully against the denim, demanding release.
"Upwards," Eunbi breathed, the single word a husky command that vibrated through the charged air. Her voice was thick, languid, yet edged with undeniable authority. Her eyes snapped open, locking onto yours. They weren't soft or vulnerable anymore. They were dark pools of liquid fire, reflecting your own frantic desire. Before you could react, before you could even process the command, her own hands moved. They slid beneath the crumpled hem of her pale blue linen dress. With deliberate, agonizing slowness, she gathered the fabric. Inch by inch, she pulled it upwards, revealing the smooth plane of her abdomen, the curve of her hip bone, the delicate indent of her navel. Higher it went, past the gentle swell of her belly, bunching around her waist. Your breath caught violently in your throat, trapped. Your eyes widened, pupils dilating until the iris was a mere sliver of color. There it was. Not nakedness, but something infinitely more provocative. Delicate black lace formed a narrow triangle, barely covering the dark, neatly trimmed curls at the apex of her thighs. But it was the centerpiece that stole your sanity: a string of lustrous pearls, impossibly white against the dark lace, sewn directly onto the fabric. They traced a shimmering path right down the center, nestled snugly against the cleft of her sex, disappearing into the shadowed depths where her thighs met. The pearls glistened faintly, catching the dim light, each one a perfect, cool bead pressed intimately against her hottest, most secret flesh. The sight was obscenely elegant, devastatingly erotic. Your gaze was riveted, unable to tear away from the lacy thong and the pearls guarding her slit.
The scent of her arousal bloomed stronger now, a heady musk that obliterated the sharp camphor of the ointment. It filled your nostrils, thick and primal. Your cock strained against your jeans, a painful, insistent throb that pulsed in time with your frantic heartbeat. You felt dizzy, the room tilting slightly. Your hand, slick with ointment, hovered just inches from the pearls. The urge to touch, to trace the cool beads over the burning heat beneath, was a physical ache. You tried to summon Wonyoung’s defiant glare, Leeseo’s bruised face – anchors to reality, reasons to flee. "I... I can't," you choked out, the words scraping raw against your throat. You started to pull your hand back, muscles screaming in protest.
from a wound. Her moans deepened, throaty vibrations you felt against your lips.
The softness was madness—pillows of warm silk that filled your mouth, heavy against your tongue. You devoured them, alternating between sharp bites and deep sucks that made her gasp and arch. Her hips bucked upward again, seeking friction against the rough denim of your jeans. The trapped ridge of your cock burned where it pressed against her thigh. Each desperate grind sent jolts through you, ratcheting tension tighter. The halo—that impossible aura of her scent, her heat, her dominance—closed in like a vise. It wasn't arousal anymore; it was suffocation demanding release. A snarl tore from your throat. Hands that moments ago worshipped her breasts now gripped the collar of your shirt. Fabric screamed. Buttons flew like shrapnel, pinging against the mahogany bedpost. The shirt ripped clean down the middle, discarded in a heap. Your belt buckle clattered, undone in frantic jerks. Denim and boxers shoved down in one violent motion, kicked away. Cool air hit bare skin. You were naked above her, cock straining against the humid heat radiating from her exposed core.
Eunbi bit her lip, teeth sinking into the plump flesh until it whitened. Her gaze—dark, liquid, utterly predatory—locked onto yours. "I like rough guys," she whispered, voice husky with whiskey and want. Her hips lifted, grinding against the damp lace covering her mound. The movement made the pearls glisten obscenely. Your eyes snapped downward. The thong was a travesty: delicate black lace stretched taut over slick folds, the pearls nestled against her cleft like forbidden treasure. Wetness soaked through, darkening the fabric. Your fingers hooked under the waistband. No hesitation. No gentleness. A brutal yank. Fabric tore. The lace thong shredded like wet paper, peeling away from flushed skin with a sticky rrrrip. Her chubby mound lay exposed—wet, swollen, gleaming with her slickness. The pearls clung momentarily to damp curls before falling onto the silk sheets like discarded beads.
"Better," Eunbi gasped, spreading her thighs wider. Her fingers plunged into her own wetness, spreading slick folds. "See how hungry I am for you?" Her thumb circled her clit—hard, swollen, pebbled tight. "Rougher, son-in-law. Show me how much you want to punish this greedy cunt." Her words were gasoline on the red pill's fire. You gripped her hips, fingers digging into soft flesh hard enough to bruise, and hauled her toward the edge of the bed. Her legs hooked over your shoulders, ankles locking behind your neck. The scent of her—musky, fermented, thick with arousal—filled your lungs.
You didn't taste her. You attacked. Your mouth crashed onto her exposed core—tongue thrusting deep, lapping at her slick walls in broad, punishing strokes. Eunbi shrieked, back arching violently off the mattress. "YES! FUCK! LIKE THAT!" Her hands fisted in your hair, grinding your face harder against her. Your tongue speared her entrance, fucking her ruthlessly while your nose ground against her throbbing clit. Wetness gushed, coating your chin. She tasted like brine and scorched earth—bitter, addictive, utterly corrupt.
You withdrew abruptly, leaving her gasping. "Turn over," you ordered, voice ragged. Her eyes widened—genuine surprise flickering through the haze of lust—before a slow, wicked smile spread across her face. She rolled onto her stomach, ass lifted high. The globes were pale, perfect, trembling slightly. You spat onto your palm, slicked your aching cock in one rough stroke, and positioned yourself at her entrance. No warning. No gentleness. You slammed home to the hilt in one brutal thrust. Eunbi screamed into the duvet, body convulsing around you. "AGAIN! HARDER!" she sobbed, pushing back against you. You pistoned into her, hips snapping forward with savage force. Each drive punched the breath from her lungs. The wet slap of skin on skin echoed off the ornate ceiling. Her fingers clawed at the sheets, tearing silk. "BREAK ME!" she howled, voice cracking. "MAKE YOUR MOTHER-IN-LAW YOUR SLUT!"
Her demand ignited something feral. You gripped her hips, fingers digging deep into soft flesh hard enough to bruise purple tomorrow, and hauled her backward onto your cock. Deeper. Rougher. The angle shifted—your tip grinding against some hidden ridge inside her. Eunbi shrieked, a sound like tearing metal. Her inner muscles clamped down, vise-tight, milking you. "THERE! GOD—YES! THERE!" Her body bucked wildly, out of control. You pinned her down, forearm braced between her shoulder blades, and hammered into that spot relentlessly. She came instantly—a guttural roar tearing from her throat as her cunt spasmed around you, drenching your thighs in hot fluid. But you didn't stop. Couldn't. The red pill's poison demanded more. You fucked her through the convulsions, driving deeper with each stroke. Her cries dissolved into wet, choking gasps. "Please—oh god—too much—" she whimpered, face mashed into the mattress. You ignored her. Your rhythm grew frantic, desperate. The pressure built—coiled steel in your gut. With a final, brutal thrust, you buried yourself to the root and came. Not pulses—a volcanic eruption. Hot seed flooded her depths, spurting in thick, relentless jets. Eunbi whimpered, body limp beneath yours.
Then suddenly, the sound of the door opening—a soft click cutting through the panting silence. You froze, cock still buried deep inside Eunbi's spasming cunt. Your head snapped toward the doorway. Shock punched the air from your lungs. Wonyoung stood framed in the doorway, eyes wide, lips parted in silent horror. Beside her, Yujin clutched her arm, knuckles white, her own face a mask of disbelief. Time fractured. The humid scent of sex hung thick, undeniable. Eunbi groaned beneath you, hips shifting weakly—a deliberate, obscene grind. The red pill’s haze shimmered violently. Awareness crashed in. This wasn't just lust. This was the poison—amplifying every sensation, twisting desire into a monstrous compulsion. The wet heat clinging to your skin, the musk choking the air, Eunbi's satisfied sigh beneath you—it all screamed wrong.
You scrambled backward, tearing yourself free with a wet, sucking sound. Your legs tangled in discarded clothes. "Wonyoung!" Your voice cracked, raw and desperate. You tried to push upright, palms slipping on sweat-slicked sheets. "I can explain—" The words choked off. A white-hot lance seared through your chest—not pain, but pure, electric overload. Your muscles locked. Teeth clenched so hard your jaw screamed. Vision fractured into blinding shards of light. You convulsed violently, spine arching off the bed like a snapped bowstring. Foam bubbled at the corners of your lips. A guttural sound escaped—not a scream, but the death rattle of control.
Wonyoung surged forward, horror twisting her beautiful face into something unrecognizable. "Dad!" The childhood name tore from her, raw and terrified. She dropped to her knees beside the bed, hands fluttering uselessly. Yujin was only a heartbeat behind, her usual composure shattered. She grabbed your thrashing shoulders, trying to pin you down. "What did you do to him?" she snarled at Eunbi, tears streaking her cheeks.
Eunbi watched from the foot of the bed, utterly composed amidst the chaos. She adjusted the torn remnants of her white silk dress, a faint smirk playing on her lips. "Me?" Her laugh was a tinkling bell in a slaughterhouse. "He took the pills willingly, darling. Yellow for heightened senses, red for... uninhibited urges." She gestured vaguely at your convulsing form. "Seems he couldn't handle the cocktail. Or perhaps," her eyes slid to Wonyoung, cold and assessing, "the sight of his precious daughter witnessing his... *performance* was simply too stimulating for his fragile heart. Oops. Looks like I gave him too much." She took a deliberate step back, distancing herself from the crisis she'd engineered.
Your body jerked violently, limbs flailing against Yujin's desperate hold. Spittle flecked your chin. Through the blinding pain and terrifying paralysis, Wonyoung’s face swam into fractured focus – pale, tear-streaked, utterly shattered. Every instinct screamed to reach her, to shield her from this horror you had become. With a gargantuan effort fueled by pure panic, your arm spasmed upward. Your trembling hand, slick with sweat, clumsily found her cheek. It wasn't gentle; it was a desperate clawing against the darkness pulling you under. Your thumb scraped roughly across her wet skin, smearing tears and mascara into a dark streak. Your voice, thick with foam and agony, rasped out the only truth left: "I... love... you... Wonyoung..." The words were barely audible, slurred by the seizure locking your jaw. Then, the world tilted violently. The ornate ceiling dissolved into swirling grey static. The frantic sounds – Yujin's choked sob, Wonyoung's sharp gasp, Eunbi’s detached observation – faded into a muffled roar. Everything plunged into absolute, suffocating darkness.
Until you heard a voice, a familiar one and lovely, “Daddy… “
To Be Continue
Note : For the dear readers of this series, I thank you for still reading it even though this series is on hiatus for a very long time. This is the first series I've made, I was almost frustrated to continue it, but since you guys still want the series to continue so I decided to continue. I plan to end the series with 2 or 3 chapters in the future.
